Forty-two years amongst the Indians and Eskimo

by Beatrice Batty

‘Well, thank God! I have written the last word of my Cree translation of the Bible. I had hoped to get it done by the time the river broke up, that I might then put my work aside for another winter, and devote myself to the Indians who will be coming in from the far interior; that I might take my long journeys to those distant centres of the mission whence the Indians cannot come; that Cree and Ojibbeway and Eskimo might again hear from my lips of the wondrous love of God in the gift to the world of His well-beloved Son; and my hope has been realised. The last word of the New Testament was written many years ago, but all will probably be re-written; all will at any rate be revised, if God permit, next winter, so as to bring it into accord with the Revised Version. It is, I think, a very good translation of the Authorised Version, and I could make but little improvement in it. My first work next winter will be to go through very carefully, with my most valued assistant from Rupert’s House, all I have written this winter. Every word will be examined, and wherever an improvement can be made it will be made; and then the New Testament will come under review, and then I trust one of the principal works of my life will be accomplished, my most cherished hope realised—my people will have the Word of God in a form they can thoroughly understand.’

In June, 1892, the bishop visited Rupert’s House, and, still full of energy and indefatigable in his work, had scarcely returned when he prepared to start off on a much longer trip to Whale River and Fort George.

On the eve of setting off he wrote, alluding to the arrival of a ‘packet’ with letters and papers:

‘Just think of seven months of reviews and missionary publications, as well as other periodicals, coming at one time, and that the busiest time of the year, when every minute must be utilised for work. The consequence is that many papers are never opened at all. It is sometimes a question with me as to whether this is a gain or a loss; it certainly keeps my mind fixed on my work, of which there is always a great deal more to be done than can be well got through. You good people at home cannot at all realise our position; we are in another world, and you have the same difficulty in endeavouring to realise it as you would have in realising the condition of life in the planet Mars.

‘On Saturday last I returned from Rupert’s House, having with me my daughter, Mrs. Broughton, her husband, and family. They will now live at Moose, Mr. Broughton having been appointed to the charge of the whole southern department. At present they are staying with me, but next week they go to the Factory, five minutes’ walk from my house, which will then be vacated by its present occupants, who are returning to Canada. To-morrow I set off for Fort George and Whale River, Mr. Peck’s district. I shall be absent about a month, and trust that in that time I may be able to do much for the Master. We are passing through the hottest summer known here for many years; the heat is sometimes almost unbearable, while the mosquitoes are most venomous and annoying. Our gardens look well so far, and we hope to have good crops by-and-by.’

In August the bishop was back at Moose Fort. ‘I am once more in the old house,’ he writes, ‘home from my long summer journeyings, and I don’t think I shall leave it again this year, but employ myself in my usual educational and translation duties. I first went to Whale River, which receives its name from the large number of porpoises found there: there was formerly a great trade in the oil produced from them as well as in their skins. I started from Moose in the Mink schooner on July 15. We had foul winds, and the cold became severe, and many icebergs were about, which occasionally gave our vessel some heavy blows. Then we passed the Twins, two large islands of equal size, on which grows neither tree nor shrub; then we caught sight of Cape Jones, which divides James’ Bay from Hudson’s Bay, and Bear Island, a large, high rock of most forbidding aspect; and then we ran along Long Island, which has a very bad repute as the centre of the abode of storms, and as we pass it the great tors on the mainland rise one after the other in their majesty of desolation; and there is more ice, and more islands, and an abundance of fog, hiding everything from view. And here, at last, is the south point of the river, and presently we come to anchor, for the wind will not allow us to proceed up to the Hudson’s Bay Company’s establishment; but a canoe is soon alongside, and in that I am taken ashore, and am presently among those who have been eagerly looking for me, and who receive me with a warm welcome. There is much work to do, and I am alone.

‘Our first service on Sunday commences at half-past six in the morning: all the Indians at the place are present, and all seem to enjoy it; some among the congregation I have not seen for years. They had wandered off to Ungava, many hundreds of miles distant, and had long remained there; they now say that they intend to make Whale River their permanent trading post. We take breakfast, and then for our Eskimo service. You see before you a goodly number of clean, intelligent-looking people, short and stout; you see that they have books in their hands, and notice that they readily find out the places required; they sing very nicely, having greatly improved since my last visit to them. Thank God for the blessing He has vouchsafed to the missionaries’ labour. And now we attend the English service. One young person is confirmed, and three partake of the Lord’s Supper. After this we have dinner; this finished, it will soon be time for our second Indian service, so let us walk quietly to the house we use as a church. It is already crowded with young and old; all sing the sweet Indian hymns, and use the Church prayers in their Indian dress. I baptize twelve children and perform four marriages. The Indians retire, and soon the interesting Eskimo flock in and take their places; two people are confirmed, and four partake of the sacrament. We are all a little tired now, the more so from the atmosphere being very close in the church; so we go up to the top of the extensive plain on which are pitched the Indian and Eskimo tents, and take a brisk walk among the heather, which gives us an appetite for tea. On the table is tea, preserved milk, sugar, bread, and marrow fat. Our last service is afterwards held; the old familiar English one. We have had a busy day, and yet not quite so busy as it would have been at Churchill, on the western side of the bay, where, in addition to the three languages spoken here, we should have had the Chipwyan. We have a little conversation and then go to bed, for we must be early astir tomorrow morning.

‘Yes, in the morning there was a great stir: all hands were up at four o’clock, loading the schooner, which had taken everything in by six o’clock, when I held my last service, the last in all probability I shall ever hold at Whale River. I then had breakfast, after which, having said good-bye to and shaken hands with every one—English, half-caste, Indian and Eskimo—I hastened on board. The anchor was at once raised, and we began to descend the river amidst volley after volley of musketry, the Indians wishing to testify their appreciation of what had been attempted for their good.

‘After we had left the river we bent our way southward, and went as fast as the baffling winds would allow us. We had the high rocky coast on our left, on which side lay Long Island; then we passed Bear Island and Cape Jones, and Lucker Creek and Wastekan Island, the highest land between Cape Jones and Fort George, and Governor’s Island, and Horse Island, and others, and so came to the mouth of Fort George River. We were seen at the fort, when instantly the flag was run up. On and on we went until we arrived opposite the landing-place, when the anchor was dropped and a boat took me ashore. I was directly in the midst of old and warm friends, who gave me the heartiest of welcomes.

‘I was eight days at Fort George, and they were all busy ones. I kept school twice a day, devoting the mornings to the Indian children and the afternoons to those speaking English. I held likewise two services each day, one in each language, and for the few days that some Eskimo were at the place, one for them as well. The principal Eskimo here is called Nero, and he is really a fine fellow, about the size of a big English boy, although I think the English boy would have but little chance with him in a wrestling match. I got him to assist me in one of the services, and what he did he did well.