Forty-two years amongst the Indians and Eskimo

by Beatrice Batty

Some time after this the bishop made a voyage in the Mink to Big River and Great Whale River, both on the eastern coast of Hudson’s Bay. At Great Whale River the work was of a varied character, amongst Indians, Eskimo, and English. The Eskimo were assembled in some numbers for the whale fishery. But it was not a success that season. The whales, or rather porpoises, remained outside the river, and would not come in. ‘A whale fishery when the whales are numerous is a very exciting sight. I myself,’ says the bishop, ‘have engaged in a fishery in which a thousand were killed, but that was many years ago. The Eskimo gave much cause for encouragement; no matter what they were about, when summoned to school or service the work was dropped instantly, their little books were taken up, and off they trotted, singing, listening, praying; they showed that they were thoroughly in earnest.’

‘How grieved was my heart that I had no one to leave behind who might take the Eskimo as his special charge!’ says the bishop. But the man desired was even then approaching Moose Fort in the annual ship. It was Mr. Peck, a layman, who had spent some of the earlier years of his life as a sailor. ‘It was by searching the Scriptures in my mess on board one of H.M.’s vessels that the light shone into my darkened soul; it was then I knew its truth,’ he says. The bishop was much pleased with the earnestness and evident fitness for the work of the young missionary. After remaining at Moose only a week, the latter set out in a boat with three or four Indians for his distant and lonely home. After a few months he returned to Moose to be ordained.

‘The two events of the winter,’ writes the bishop, February 1878, ‘have been the children’s school-treat and the ordination of Mr. Peck. The treat was a great success. Fifty-six partook of our hospitality. We divided them into two parties on two successive evenings; I never saw children enjoy themselves more. We had many games to amuse them, finishing each evening with a religious service. Edward Richards, one of the Coral Fund protégés, is with us, assisting generally in the mission. He has done good work this winter in giving instruction to Mr. Peck in the Indian language. My son is spending the winter with us, cheering us much, and assisting in the work. In the summer he takes his mother, Beatrice, and Bertie to England, the two latter to go to school. I am afraid I shall find a bachelor’s life here rather hard.’

On May 10, 1878, the bishop, with heartfelt thanksgiving, ordained Mr. Peck deacon and priest. ‘He left us,’ writes Mr. Horden on June 18, ‘with our deepest sympathy and our most earnest prayers. He left us well prepared for his work, and with a good insight into the two difficult native languages he will be in constant contact with, the Cree and the Eskimo. He is full of zeal—zeal tempered with prudence, and I think that, should his life be spared, a noble career is before him. The surroundings of his home are very desolate, and he needs all the help and sympathy we can give him.’

This summer was spent as usual in almost constant travel by the bishop, who still had not been from end to end of his vast diocese. The station next in importance to Moose at that time was York Factory, but he had never yet seen it, owing to the great distance. This summer he visited Albany. Although it was the end of June, ice was still lying on the coast when he set out in a large canoe, accompanied by six Indians. The way lay along the western shore of James’ Bay. The scenery is very dreary, the coast low and flat, not a hill to be seen. At the end of three days he found himself ‘at a very small village, consisting of the residence of the fur trader, a nice church, a good parsonage, a few well-built houses, and a number of Indian tents.’

‘I was most heartily welcomed,’ he writes. ‘It was late in the evening when I got out of the canoe, and the next morning early I entered the church for service. The Rev. Thomas Vincent, who has built both his house and church, principally with his own hands, is most indefatigable. I saw no heathen Indians here, I heard no Indian drums, I beheld no superstitious rites, but I heard hymns of praise rising to heaven. A large number had been prepared for confirmation, and many knelt at the Lord’s table.’

After a stay of a fortnight’s duration the bishop returned to Moose, and started for Matawakumma, 500 miles distant, where the Rev. John Saunders, a native, like Mr. Vincent, of Albany, was now located. Matawakumma means, ‘the lake of the meeting of the waters.’ It is a large lake, irregular in outline, surrounded by woods. The first thing which strikes the visitor on approaching the station is the neat little church perched on a rising ground, like a beacon set on a hill, the rallying point for the little band of Ojibbeway Indians of the neighbourhood. Then the residence of the fur-trader comes in sight, the store and other buildings, and the modest parsonage-house, with its garden and accessories. The whole way from Moose the bishop saw not more than a dozen people. The journey took rather more than a fortnight. The road was a broad river, impeded in its course by many rapids and shoals, and by numerous waterfalls, some of which are very beautiful.

‘Various portages had been made, and we were going on, as we thought, safely,’ writes the bishop, ‘when suddenly there is a heavy crash, and the water comes rushing into the canoe. We had come with force upon a rock, which had made a great hole in the bark. We paddle to the shore as fast as possible, take everything out of the canoe and begin repairing it. One goes to a birch tree and cuts off a large piece of bark, another digs up some roots and splits them, a third prepares some pitch, and in the course of an hour or two the bark is sewn into the bottom of the canoe, the seams are covered with pitch, and we are once more loading our little vessel.

‘At the end of our second week we come to an encampment of Indians. It is Sunday, and we stay and spend the day with them. They are old friends, Henry Martyn and his wife and others. Indians who are Christians, baptized and communicants. Indians who can give a reason for the hope which is in them. Indians who can read their books and write their letters, and who may be depended upon quite as much as any Europeans.