‘Morning dawned, the storm had subsided, a boat was despatched for letters, the schooner was again ordered to sea, all hearts beat high, and by ten o’clock our illusions were dispelled. The guns had been fired by the York schooner, which had been despatched to Moose to acquaint us with our misfortune, and to bring the little that had been saved from the wreck. It was very little, yet sufficient to remove anxiety as to our living for this winter, as we thus became possessed of flour and tea, which we can only obtain by the ship, for in our wintry land no fields of wheat wave their golden heads, and no sound of the reapers ever falls upon the ear. Of the many packages sent me, the Coral Fund box was the only one which came to hand, all the rest are at the bottom of the sea: and of the contents of your box, everything was much damaged, except the service book, now lying on the communion table at Moose. The packet-box was saved, which accounts for my receiving your letter.
‘The Moose ship left England in company with the Hudson’s Bay Company’s ship, bound for York Factory, which is a post about seven hundred miles north of Moose, and came across the Atlantic and nearly through Hudson’s Straits without any mishaps. On August 13 the two ships were together, a few miles to the east of Mansfield Island; the captains visited and congratulated each other upon having passed the most dangerous portion of the voyage, and expected that within a week the one would be at York and the other at Moose. But how blind is man! Within a few hours both of them were ashore on Mansfield Island, about twelve miles distant from each other. The York ship had a very large number of men on board, and by almost incredible exertions she was got off, but not until she had sustained such damages as necessitated the constant use of the pumps. The Moose ship could not be got off, and still lies with nearly all her valuable cargo on the rocks. The York ship came to her and took all the crew on board, together with what had been saved, and proceeded to York Factory. There she was examined, and then it appeared how near all had been to death; the wonder was how she could possibly have kept afloat. To return to England in her would have been madness, so she still lies at York. Happily a second vessel had gone to York, which took home nearly the whole of the crews of the two disabled ships.
‘When I last wrote I asked for the service book for my new church; that edifice has now, I am happy to say, been opened; the interesting ceremony took place on Whit-Sunday, May 15, 1864. The ice had entirely disappeared from the river; the sun shone forth brilliantly, all Nature smiled. A large congregation assembled at our usual hour for service, and all seemed impressed with the solemnity of the occasion. The subject of the sermon was the dedication of Solomon’s temple. At its close the collection amounted to upwards of 4l., and after that a number of Europeans, natives, and Indians, assembled round the table of the Lord. It was the first time I ever administered a general communion, many of the Indians not understanding English; but on this occasion I wished them to see that, in spite of diversity of language, God is alike the God of the white man and the red. Altogether it was a most interesting and happy day. It is literally a church in the wilderness. I hope it will not be long before others rise in this part of the country.
‘I have lately heard of my poor Eskimo brethren in the far-off desert; that infant church has been much tried. Just one half of its members have been carried off by death; there were but four, two of whom are gone, and both somewhat suddenly. One of them was the young Eskimo interpreter, who when I was last with them was of such very great service to me. Late in the fall he went off in his kayak to set a fox trap. He did so, but as he was getting into the canoe to return home it upset with him, and the coldness of the water prevented him from swimming. His body was not discovered until the evening of the following day. The other was the only baptized woman, her name was Elizabeth Horden. These trials must be necessary, or they would not be sent.’
CHAPTER VII
FIRST RETURN TO ENGLAND
In 1865 Mr. Horden and his family came home; the journey was a long and very anxious one. ‘Among the many dangerous voyages which our bold sailors undertake,’ he writes, ‘there is none more dangerous, or attended with more anxiety, than the one to or from Moose Factory. Hudson’s Straits are dangerous, Hudson’s Bay fearfully so, James’s Bay worst of all. It is full of sunken rocks and shoals; it is noted for its fogs.
‘When the ship came, it was in a somewhat disabled condition, so severely had she been handled by the ice. However, we repaired her at Moose, and although it was very late in the season we determined, putting ourselves in God’s hands, to trust ourselves in her. We left Moose with a fair wind, which took us in safety over our long, crooked, and dangerous bar; but we had not proceeded above half a day’s sail before a heavy storm came upon us. Dangers were around us, the dread of all coming to Moose Factory, the Gasket Shoal, was ahead; the charts were frequently consulted; the captain was anxious, sleep departed from his eyes. We are at the commencement of the straits; we see land, high, rugged, barren hills; snow is lying in the valleys, stern winter is already come; it seems a home scarcely fit for the white bear and the walrus. What are these solitary giants, raising their heads so high, and appearing so formidable? They are immense icebergs which have come from regions still farther north, and are now being carried by the current through Hudson’s Straits into the Atlantic Ocean. The glass speaks of coming bad weather, the top-sails are reefed, reefs are put to the main-sail; and now it is on us, the wind roars through the rigging, the ship plunges and creaks. Night comes over the scene, there is no cessation of the tempest; it howls and roars, it is a fearful night! One of the boats is nearly swept away, and is saved with difficulty; we have lost some of our rigging; one man is washed overboard, and washed back again. The sea breaks over the vessel, and dashes into the cabin; but One mightier has said, “Hitherto shalt thou come, and no farther.” By the morning, the morning of the Sabbath, the wind had abated.’
Dreary weeks followed; the time for arrival in England had long since passed, and our travellers were still beating about in the Atlantic. Luxuries had vanished, comforts had departed, necessaries were becoming very scarce, and they began to ask each other, ‘Is England ever to be reached?’ Then the children saw a steamer for the first time in their lives, and their surprise was great; and now they pass vessel after vessel. They are running up the English Channel, a pilot comes on board, and on they go, till they are safely moored in the West India Docks. Now to a railway station and into a railway carriage, out of that and into a cab through the busiest part of London; the shops are brilliantly lighted up; the children are at the windows, their exclamations of surprise are incessant, a new world is opened to their view—a world of bustle, a world of life.
Mr. Horden spent a busy year in England, travelling, as he expressed it, ‘from Dan to Beersheba,’ speaking on behalf of ‘his beloved people’ and his work; everywhere eliciting sympathy and interest. In his absence from the station Mr. Vincent of Albany had gone to Moose, to provide for the spiritual wants of the flock and to keep the school going. The children were examined before the Christmas holidays in Scripture and Catechism and arithmetic, after which they were rewarded with little presents sent in the bales from England. He reported the mission as presenting a cheering aspect. ‘From every quarter,’ he writes, ‘the heathen are being gradually brought under the influence of the Gospel; we have much cause for encouragement, but we also meet with opposition. I visited an outpost in the Rupert’s River district last summer, about five hundred and fifty miles distant from this station, called Mistasinnee. Both there and on the way I had frequent opportunities of preaching the Gospel to anxious inquirers, and before leaving that post I had forty-eight baptisms, half the number being adults; the trip occupied about two months. We are having a very mild winter, but not a favourable one for living, as rabbits and partridges are very scarce. Sometimes we have a difficulty in making up something for dinner. I hope, however, as the season advances, we shall do better, for partridges then will be returning to the northward, and we may get a few in passing.’