Part 7 (2/2)

Surely the children are the one and only hope of this country. Through them we may trust to raise the moral standard of the generations to come, but it is going to be a very slow process to make any headway against the ignorance and absence of desire for better things which prevails so largely here.

I must tell you of the latest addition to our family. On the first boat in the spring there arrived a family, brought by neighbours, to say what the Mission could do for them. I think I have never seen a more forlorn sight than this group presented when they stepped from the steamer. There was the father (the mother is dead), an elderly half-witted cripple capable neither of caring for himself nor for his children, four boys of varying sizes, and a girl of fourteen in the last stages of tuberculosis. The family were nearly frozen, half-starved, and completely dazed at the hopelessness of their situation. The girl was admitted to the hospital, where she has since died, and the youngest boy, Israel, we took into the Home. Alas, we had only room for the one. Israel was at first much overawed by the standard of cleanliness required in this inst.i.tution, and protested vigorously when we tried to put him into the bathtub. He explained to us that he never washed more than his face and hands at home, not even his neck and ears, the limitation of territory being strictly defined and scrupulously observed.

_June 20_

Unlike last year this summer promises to be hot, at least for this country. I have felt one great lack this year. You have to pa.s.s the long months of what would be lovely spring in England without a sign of a living blade of flower, though a few little songbirds did their best bravely to make it up to us. Already we are being driven almost crazy with the mosquitoes and black flies, songsters of no mean calibre, especially at night. In desperation our little ones yesterday succeeded in killing an unusually large specimen, and after burying it with great solemnity were heard singing around the grave in no uncheerful tones, ”Nearer, my G.o.d, to Thee.”

I hate to think that these next few weeks will be the last I shall spend in this country and with these children. The North seems to weave over one a kind of spell and fascination all its own. I look back sometimes and smile that I should ever have felt the year long or dreary; it has pa.s.sed so quickly that I can scarcely believe it already time to be thinking of you and England again. I may emulate the example of Mrs. Lot, but with the certainty that a similar fate to hers does not await me.

I have just unpacked a barrel of clothing sent from home to the Orphanage, and find to my disgust that it is almost entirely composed of muslin blouses and old ladies' bonnets! What am I to do with them?

The blouses I can use as mosquito veiling, but these bonnets are not the kind our babies wear. I shall present one to Topsy, who will look adorable in it.

You hint it is hard to get up interest in Labrador because we are neither heathen nor black. I can imagine your sewing circle of dear old ladies (perhaps they sent the bonnets) discussing the relative merits of working to send aeroplanes to the Arabs, bicycles to the Bedouins, comforters to the Chinese, jumpers to the j.a.panese, handkerchiefs to the Hottentots, hair nets to the Hindoos, mouth organs to the Mohammedans, pinafores to the Pa.r.s.ees, pyjamas to the Papuans, prayer-books to the Pigmies, sandwiches to the South Sea Islanders, or zithers to the Zulus. Just wait till I can talk to your dear old ladies!

A few days ago we had a very narrow escape from fire; indeed, it seemed for some time as if the whole of the Mission would be wiped out. It was a half-holiday and our boys had gone fis.h.i.+ng to the Devil's Pond, a favourite spot of theirs, about a mile away.

Unfortunately Noah was seized with the idea of lighting a fire by which to cook the trout, the matches having been stolen from my room.

It had been dry for several days, there was quite a wind, and the fire, catching the furze, quickly got beyond the one required for culinary purposes. The boys first tried to smother it with their coats, but finding that of no avail ran home to give the alarm. By the time the men could get to the spot the fire had spread so rapidly that attention had to be turned towards trying to save the houses. The doctor's house was the one most directly threatened at first, and we proceeded to strip it of all furniture, carrying everything to the fore-sh.o.r.e to be ready to be taken off if necessary. The doctor was away on a medical call, and you can imagine my feelings when I expected every moment to see the Northern Light come round the point, the doctor's house in flames and his household goods scattered to the winds! Then we dismantled this place--the children having been sent at the outset to a place of safety--and removed the patients from the hospital. Every man in the place was hard at work, and there were few of us who dared to hope that we should have a roof over our heads that night. Happily the wind suddenly dropped, the fire died down, and late that night we were able to return and endeavour to sort out babies and furniture. The G.o.ddess of disorder reigned supreme, and it was only after many weary hours that we were able to find beds for the babies and babies for the beds. And it was our boys who started the fire! I am covered with confusion every second when I stop to think of it, and wonder if this is not the psychological moment to make my exit from this Mission.

_July 11_

By invitation of the doctor I am off for a trip on the Northern Light next week. He offers me thus the chance to see other portions of the Sh.o.r.e before he drops me at the Iron Bound Islands, where I can connect with the southern-going coastal steamer. The Prophet has encouraged me with the observation that ”nearly all the female ladies what comes aboard her do be wonderful sick,” but I am not to be deterred. So:

”Now, Brothers, for the icebergs of frozen Labrador, Floating spectral in the moons.h.i.+ne along the low, black sh.o.r.e.

Where in the mist the rock is hiding, and the sharp reef lurks below; And the white squall smites in summer, and the autumn tempests blow.”

This is a mere sc.r.a.p of a greeting, for the day of departure is so near that I feel I want to spend every minute with the kiddies. I count on your forbearance, and your knowledge that though my pen is quiet, my heart still holds you without rival.

_On board the Northern Light July 16_

Is to-day as lovely in your part of the world as it is in mine, and do you greet it with a background of as exciting a night as the one that has just pa.s.sed over us? I wonder. I came across some old forms of bills of lading sent out to this country from England. They always closed with this most appropriate expression, ”And so G.o.d send the good s.h.i.+p to her desired port in safety.” It has fallen into disuse long ago, but about break of early day the idea took a very compelling shape in my mind. We put out from Bonne Esperance just as night was falling, and there was no moon to aid us. The doctor had decided on the outside run, and brief as is my acquaintance with the ”lonely Labrador,” I knew what that meant. I therefore betook myself betimes to bed as the best spot for an unseasoned mariner. Twelve o'clock found us barely holding our own against a furious head wind and sea--”An awful night for a sinner,” as our cheery Prophet remarked as he lurched past my cabin door. Icebergs were dotted about. Great combers were pouring over our bow and the floods came sweeping down the decks sounding like the roar of a thousand cataracts.

The only way one could keep from being hurled out of one's berth was to cling like a leech to a rope fastened to a ring in the wall, for the little s.h.i.+p was bouncing back and forth so fast and so far that it was impossible to compare it with the motion of any other craft. Day began to dawn about 3 A.M. By the dim light I could make out mighty mountains of green foaming water. At each roll of the steamer we seemed to be at the bottom of a huge emerald pit. Suddenly some one yelled, ”There she goes!” and that second the boat was dragged down, down, down. An immense wave had caught us, rolled us so far over that our dory in davits had filled with water to the brim. As the s.h.i.+p righted herself, the weight of the dory snapped off the davit at the deck, and the boat, still attached by her painter, was dragged underneath our hull, and threatened to pull us down with it. In two seconds the men had cut her away, but not before she had nearly banged herself to matchwood against our side.

Now we are lying under the lea of St. Augustine Island waiting for the wind to abate. The chief engineer has just offered to row me ash.o.r.e to hunt for young puffins. More later.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A PUFFIN GHETTO]

There were hundreds of them in every family, and so many families that it resembled nothing so much as a puffin ghetto. I judged from the turmoil that they were screeching for ”a place in the sun.” The noise they made did not in the least accord with their respectable Quaker appearance. Shall I bring you one as a pet? Its austere presence would help you to remember your ”latter end.”

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