Extracts from a Journal of a Voyage of Visitation in the Hawk, 1859 | Page 3

attending our family prayers in the cabin.
Friday, July 8th. Little Harbour Deep.--Before four o'clock, two of my men, with a boy from shore, went to Grandfather's Cove (Grande-Vache) to invite the families (Randalls) living there to our services. Though so early, one of the families had gone to their fishing ground before our men arrived. The others gladly accepted the invitation. This being the first day of missionary work, or services, on board the Church-ship, I had to instruct my friends, Mr. Johnson and Mr. Tucker, how to arrange and deck the large cabin for the congregation. The day, happily, was very fine, so that we were able to put several of the many packages and boxes on deck.
The congregation, in the morning, consisted of only the two families (Wiseman and Randall) and our captain. In the afternoon (4.30 P.M.), our crew also attended. One girl was hypothetically baptised, and four children received. The elder Johnson said the prayers and baptized; the younger read the lessons. I addressed the little congregation both morning and evening. There is something of both pleasure and pain in these quiet services; pleasure, in hoping that God, in his mercy, may bless some word of exhortation, or some prayer, to the edification of these forsaken ones; pain, in observing how by the people themselves the prayers and lessons seem to be wholly not appreciated, or not understood. Not one could read, several of them had never heard the service before, so they rose up and knelt down as automatons; and would, I doubt not, have been just as ready to kneel at the Psalms as at the Confession, and to sit at either, or both, as when hearing the lessons or sermon. After the service, one man bought a Prayer-book for his daughter, and we gave them several children's books and tracts. I examined the bigger children after the service; one girl, probably ten or twelve years of age, could not repeat the Lord's Prayer or the Creed; a second imperfectly; a third tolerably well. It was, indeed, pitiful; and enough to fill the heart of any pastor, and specially their chief pastor, with sorrow and shame.
After the second service, I accompanied my friends in a boat to the head of the harbour, where it receives a small stream (the drain of some lake, or of the bogs and mosses in the neighbourhood), which winds and creeps between some magnificent mountains. While they were fishing I wandered, climbing over the boulders, along the borders of the stream, to enjoy the solitude and deep silence of the winding valley. The absence of all living creatures, except mosquitoes and dragon-flies, is a striking feature; and the occasional whistle or scream of some sea-bird only renders the prevailing stillness more strange; grateful or painful, according to the disposition and state of mind.
We returned to the ship soon after sunset, frightfully eaten by mosquitoes. The fishers had all had plenty of bites, and realized a new phase of "fly-fishing," but carried home among them one trout only. The mosquitoes had got possession of the Church-ship, and paid us off for invading their solitudes.
Saturday, July 9th. At sea.--We left Little Harbour Deep soon after three o'clock A.M., with a fair wind, which died away outside, and we did not reach our next place of call (Little Coney Arm) till five o'clock P.M. There new delay and difficulty awaited us. We fired two guns, but no person came off, and not a single boat could anywhere be seen. The whole shore seemed deserted. Nevertheless, we discerned houses in the harbour, and stood towards the entrance; but finding the water shoal suddenly, the captain let go the anchor, and sent a boat in, with the mate and three of my companions. They brought word, to my great mortification, that nearly all the inhabitants had gone to fish in other parts of the bay, and that but one old man, with the females and children of three families, remained. Him they brought off to be our pilot. Unfortunately, in getting again under way, we went to leeward of the entrance, and immediately after the wind dropped altogether. The tide then drifted us into Great Coney Arm, and every tack took us farther to leeward. It seemed almost certain we should be carried to the head of the Bight, to spend the Sunday in a solitary place; but by keeping a boat ahead, with four hands, sometimes of the crew, sometimes of the clergy, we maintained our ground until, about eleven o'clock, a breeze sprang up in our favour, and we regained the entrance of the Little Arm, and came to anchor just at midnight, whereby I learnt a lesson of patience and perseverance.
Third Sunday after Trinity, July 10th. Little Coney Arm.--Four families reside