Its desolate Aspect.—Forests.—Marshes.—Barrens.—Ponds.—Fur-bearing Animals.—Severity of Climate.—St. John’s.—Discovery of Newfoundland by the Scandinavians.—Sir Humphrey Gilbert.—Rivalry of the English and French.—Importance of the Fisheries.—The Banks of Newfoundland.—Mode of Fishing.—Throaters, Headers, Splitters, Salters, and Packers.—Fogs and Storms.—Seal-catching.
Generally veiled with mists, Newfoundland appears at first sight gloomy and repulsive. Abrupt cliffs, showing here and there traces of a scanty vegetation, rise steep and bare from the sea, and for miles and miles the eye sees nothing but brown hills or higher mountains, desolate and wild as they appeared in the eleventh century to the bold Norwegian navigators who first landed on its desert shore. The waves of the ocean have everywhere corroded the rocky coast into fantastic pinnacles or excavated deep grottoes in its flanks. In one of these cavities the action of the surge has produced a remarkable phenomenon, known under the name of “The Spout.” In stormy weather the waves penetrate into the hollow and force their way with a dreadful noise from an aperture in the rock as a gigantic fountain visible at a distance of several miles.21
The interior of the country corresponds with the forbidding appearance of the coasts, and offers nothing but a succession of forests, marshes, and barrens. The forests, if they may thus be called, generally grow on the declivities of the hills or on the sides of the valleys, where the superfluous waters find a natural drain. The trees consist for the most part of fir, spruce, birch, pine, and juniper or larch; and in certain districts the wych-hazel, the mountain-ash, the elder, the aspen, and some others are found. The character of the timber varies greatly according to the nature of the subsoil and the situation. In some parts, more especially where the woods have been undisturbed by the axe, trees of fair height and girth may be found; but most of the wood is of stunted growth, consisting chiefly of fir-trees about twenty or thirty feet high, and not more than three or four inches in diameter. These commonly grow so closely together that their twigs and branches interlace from top to bottom, while among them may be seen innumerable old and rotten stumps and branches, or newly-fallen trees, which, with the young shoots and brushwood, form a tangled and often impenetrable thicket. The trees are often covered with lichens, and tufts of white dry moss are entangled about the branches. Other green and softer mosses spread over the ground, concealing alike the twisted roots of the standing trees and the pointed stumps of those which have fallen,377 the sharp edges or slippery surface of the numerous rocks and boulders, and the holes and pitfalls between them. Every step through these woods is consequently a matter of great toil and anxiety. In the heat of summer, while the woods are so thick as to shut out every breath of air, they are at the same time too low and too thinly leaved at top to exclude the rays of the sun, the atmosphere being further rendered close and stifling by the smell of the turpentine which exudes from the trees.
Inclosed in these gloomy woods, large open tracts, called marshes, are found covering the valleys and lower lands, and frequently also at a considerable height above the sea on the undulating backs of the mountains. These tracts are covered to a depth sometimes of several feet with a green, soft, and spongy moss, bound together by straggling grass and various marsh-plants. The surface abounds in hillocks and holes, the tops of the hillocks having often dry crisp moss like that on the trees. A boulder or small crag of rock occasionally protrudes, covered with red or white lichens, and here and there is a bank on which the moss has become dry and yellow. The contrast of these colors with the dark velvety green of the wet moss frequently gives a peculiarly rich appearance to the marshes, so that when seen from a little distance they might easily be mistaken for luxuriant meadow-grounds, but a closer inspection soon destroys the illusion, and shows, instead of nutritious grass and aromatic flowers, nothing but a carpet of useless cryptogamic plants. Except in long-continued droughts or hard frosts, these marshes are so wet as to be unable to bear the weight of a person walking over them. A march of three miles, sinking at every step into the moss, sometimes knee-deep, and always as far as the ankle, is, it may well be supposed, toilsome and fatiguing, especially when, as must always be the case in attempting to penetrate the country, a heavy load is carried on the shoulders. This thick coating of moss is precisely like a great sponge spread over the country, and becomes at the melting of the snow in the spring thoroughly saturated with water, which it long retains, and which every shower of rain continually renews.
The “barrens” of Newfoundland are those districts which occupy the summits of the hills and ridges, and other elevated and exposed tracts. They are covered with a thin and scrubby vegetation, consisting of berry-bearing plants and dwarf bushes of various species, resembling the moorlands of the north of England, and differing only in the kind of vegetation and its scantier quantity. Bare patches of gravel and boulders and crumbling fragments of rock are frequently met with upon the barrens, and they are generally altogether destitute of vegetable soil. But only on the barrens is it possible to explore the interior of the country with any kind of ease or expedition. These different tracts are none of them of any great extent; woods, marshes, and barrens frequently alternating with each other in the course of a day’s journey.
Another remarkable feature of Newfoundland is the almost incredible number of lakes of all sizes, all of which are indiscriminately called ponds. They are scattered over the whole country, not only in the valleys but on the higher lands; and even in the hollows of the summits of the ridges and the very tops of the hills. They vary in size from pools of fifty yards in diameter to lakes upward378 of thirty miles long and four or five miles across. The number of those which exceed a couple of miles in extent must on the whole amount to several hundreds, while those of a smaller size are absolutely countless. It is supposed that a full third of the surface of the island is covered by fresh water, and this reckoning is rather below than above the mark. In a country so abundantly provided with lakes or ponds, it seems strange to find no navigable rivers. The undulating surface of the land, with its abrupt hills and deep gullies, is, without all doubt, one cause of this absence of larger streams.
Each pond or small set of ponds communicates with a valley of its own, down which it sends an insignificant brook, which takes the nearest course to the sea. The chief cause, however, both of the vast abundance of ponds and the comparative scantiness of the brooks, is to be found in the great coating of moss which spreads over the country, and retains the water like a sponge, allowing it to drain off but slowly and gradually.
The wilds of Newfoundland are tenanted by numerous fur-bearing animals, affording a great source of gain to some of the fishermen, who in winter turn furriers. Arctic foxes are here in all their variety. Beavers, once nearly extirpated, but now unmolested owing to the low value of their fur, are increasing in numbers. Brown bears are pretty numerous, and Polar bears sometimes find their way to the northern promontory of the island upon the ice which comes drifting down in spring from Davis’s Straits. By way of contrast, in hot summers the tropical humming-bird has been known to visit the southern shores of Newfoundland. Reindeer are abundant, but unfortunately their enemies the wolves have likewise increased in number, since the reward given by the Colonial Government for their destruction has ceased to be paid.
Although in the same latitude as Central France and the south of Germany, Newfoundland has a long and severe winter, owing to the two vast streams of Arctic water, the Davis’s Straits and East Greenland currents, which combine and run by its shores; and the summer, though sometimes intensely hot, is so short and so frequently obscured by fogs that, even were the soil less sterile, agriculture must necessarily be confined to narrow limits. The little wheat and barley, cultivated on the inside lands far above the sea-shore, is often cut green, and carrots, turnips, potatoes, and cabbages are nearly all the esculent vegetables which the land has been proved capable of producing.
Hence we can not wonder that the whole island, which is considerably larger than Scotland, has only about 90,000 inhabitants, and even these would have had no inducement to settle on so unpromising a soil if the riches of the sea did not amply compensate for the deficiencies of the land. Fish is the staple produce of Newfoundland, and the bulk of its population consists of poor fishermen, who have established themselves along the deep bays by which the coast is indented, and catch near the coast vast quantities of cod, which they bring in and cure at their leisure, in order to have it ready for the ships when they arrive. With the outer world they have little communication, and a visit to St. John’s, the capital of the island, forms an epoch in their solitary lives.
This town lies at the head of a wide and secure bay, and consists of a main street fronting the water, from which narrow, dirty lanes and alleys branch out379 towards the land. The dingy, unpainted houses are built of wood, the Government edifices only being constructed of brick or stone. The long rows of fish-stages along the shore attract the stranger’s attention, but he is still more astonished at the countless gin and beer shops, which at once tell him he is in a place where thirsty s............