How the angler loves to whip the water of the Humber River! He knows that the salmon will respond to his call. He also loves to hear the gentle dip of the oars, and every swish of his line is full of music. The wild-duck, the water-fowl, and the rock ptarmigan are his shy companions. And when meal-time arrives his appetite finds relief in a hearty meal cooked over a fire on the bank of the river.
Much of the inland scenery is also magnificent. A ramble through the forests on a summer day is a source of refreshment and inspiration. In the vicinity of Grand Falls, where the Exploits River goes tumbling to Notre Dame Bay, the landscapes are as picturesque as any that are to be seen in Wales. Since the erection there of large pulp and paper mills by Lord Northcliffe the district has become a hive of industry. The clang, clang of the woodman’s axe rings out through the forest, and the song of the logger can be heard in the distance as he hauls his logs to the water’s edge, to send them down the river, to be turned into paper at the mills.
There goes the woodman to the work of felling the timber. The path along which he trudges to his toil winds like a snake through labyrinths of trees, the soft colours of which are so restful to the eyes. The air is filled with the scent of the spruce-trees, and it clings to your lips like honey. Through these forests the Indians at one time hunted for game, and who shall say that their spirits do not linger still among their wild and much-loved haunts? The path is carpeted with moss that feels like a sponge beneath your feet. The greenish-grey tint of the lichen clinging to the trees is most effective when it stands in the shadows a little removed from the pathway. The larch, the pine, and the birch lift their proud heads above the spruce-trees, the white of the pine glimmering like silver in the sunlight. If the stillness of the woods is broken at all, it is by the thud of the woodman’s axe, the sound of falling water, or the weird, haunting note of the woodpecker.
Apart from the scenery that is observable when standing on land, there is the majestic scenery observable from the steamer as you take a sea-trip from, let us say, St. John’s to Notre Dame Bay. The steamers usually call at places of interest and beauty in Conception Bay, Trinity Bay, and the Fogo Islands on the east coast, as well as Fortune Bay on the south coast and Bay of Islands on the west coast. The coasts of Newfoundland are indented by so many bays, harbours, coves, and tickles that the scene is continually changing. In fact, so enchanting are the coasts viewed from the sea that if the weather is fine it is impossible to spend a monotonous moment on deck.
CHAPTER IX
HAUNTS OF THE PIRATES
If the Atlantic Ocean is associated with mystery and romance, it is associated with tragedy too. Alas! how many of its tragedies are unrecorded upon the pages of history! Until the sea gives up its dead, many of the deeds that have been perpetrated upon its bosom will remain as obscure as the treasures at the base of its restless waters.
Off the coast of Newfoundland many were the diabolical deeds of pirates in the days that are no more. Very few have found their way to the written page, but the fishermen have handed them down by word of mouth from generation to generation. The following tale of plunder and carnage by the pirates of the eighteenth century was given to the writer by a Newfoundlander, who received it from the lips of the grandson of the hero.
The hero was crossing the Atlantic as a cabin-boy on a vessel trading between England and Newfoundland. The vessel made excellent progress, and the crew were in jubilant spirits, anticipating a safe arrival at their destined haven, where they would discharge cargo and load up fish for the English market. But as they drew near to the shore of Newfoundland, they sighted a ship in the distance bearing down upon them. In a short time the black flag was run up on the approaching vessel, and all knew that a pirate bold was chasing them. To escape was impossible, as the pirate showed herself a much smarter vessel than the merchantman. There was no means of escape from the deadly ship. She was bound for plunder, and therefore neither property nor life would hinder her crew in their villainous work. They knew that the merchant ship was outward bound, and in her lockers would be gold wherewith to purchase her homeward cargo. They were after this gold, for the greed of their calling had entirely overcome them.
After a broadside or two from the pirate the merchant ship hove up, and was soon boarded by their enemies. Mercy there was none, and death and carnage were on every hand.