thehibbardjournal-blog

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Monday, June 24

I am now improving the first opportunity I have for a day or two two[sic] write. I have heard a great deal of surprise expressed at the good weather we have had since our arrival. The air has been free from fog nearly the whole time, which is very unusual here. Today we have a very good specimen of Labrador weather, a thick fog with occasional rain. On Saturday Friday last I went out with Capt. and part of the crew, to take my first lessons in using a fish-net. I had supposed it plenty hard enough to pull an oar in a boat which was at liberty to obey an oars-man’s effort , and pass through the tide, but when we came to row with might and main, a large [sein?] dragging at our stern and well nigh stopping our progress it was harder yet. However we got some bait though not the kind we would like. There is a kind of fish, called by the fishermen Capelin, which comes here in great numbers every year. They make their appearance in schools about the same time that the cod come. They are about 8 inches long and rather slim. But these have not yet made come and we took instead an inferior kind of bait, the [something] fish, a fish as long as the above but so slim as to resemble the eel. These are here now abundantly but we only got a basketfull. Next morning we went out over [moiré?], in company with the crew of the John Murray, with whom we are to catch bait for the season. We found the capelin just coming in and got enough for all the boats of both vessels. There was something quite novel to me in hauling half a dozen bushels of these little navigators at one time and seeing them pitching and frisking about in one heap, and I could not help thinking about how some of the Apostles used to fish with nets. I would that fishermen nowadays would do as they did, in some respects at least. The might become “fishers of men” without leaving their usual association. But I don’t think either of the “Poor Fishermen” of old used to catch fish on a Sunday, at least not after they began to follow Christ, but alas my companions do, for they were out yesterday getting bait for today. They pretend this is necessary, but with all respect due to their [???], I can’t see the necessity for it only saves them the time in the morning and concerning as to this I think I should be willing to trust Providence I think if it concerned me. I have had much conversation with them on the subject but can’t seem to satisfy them that it is wrong, or at least not many of them. I hope the time is coming when this needless [???] work will be done away, and holy time better observed than it is now.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Thursday June 20

I arose yesterday about day light, and went out in one of the boats fishing. Unfortunately there was no wind and I could find little that was either pleasant or [something]antic in pulling the oar for two or three miles, but after stretching my arms an inch or two I was not a little rejoiced to find we were approaching the fleet of boats. Our anchor down we commenced the days[sic] work. I now found myself a “green hand.” Nonwithstanding that I had fished with some success before, it was in vain that I baited my hook with the greatest care, and threw it out like my companions. The fish would not bite at my line, or if they did were sure to run off with the bait, and mock my greatest efforts at taking them. My line got entangled with those of the other fishermen, and left me in a regular snarl, to the no small amusement of all hands. However I comforted myself that my turn for luck would come in due time, and sure enough it did. I gave my first fish a much heartier welcome than he did me, and my concern lest he should be lonesome in my [room? Roam?], was soon put to an end  by the appearance a companion for his misery. There is something peculiarly cruel about the fishing business. Tis surely a barbarous way to kill any sensible creature, but the fisherman never thinks of this he is so accustomed to it, and as for the green hand, he is too much excited by catching the finny prey to feel much empathy. So I labored on until it was time to return to the vessel. We had been a number of hours on the ground, much longer than I am accustomed to work before breakfast, and I did not stand it like my comrades, but kept my courage up as well as I could and felt more joy than I expressed when we proceeded to weigh anchor. And here came another siege at the oar, but when we were nearly in the wind sprang up and, we had the satisfaction of seeing our sails filled, and ourselves gliding along at our ease. We reached the schooner in due time, and needed nothing to give our breakfast a relish.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Monday, June 17

Capt. aroused me this morning by the usual salute, “all hands ahoy”and I was soon on deck along with the rest of the crew, and active preparations were soon making for the labors of the summer. It was then about two o'clock rather early to commence work, landsmen would think, but it is the usual hour for rising here. The first thing was to get the things out of the main hole, that fish might be packed there. Accordingly the sein[?] boat was filled with wood, and half a dozen of us going ashore in it carried the wood up the beach out of the reach of the water. It was pretty hard work, but I weathered it better than I had anticipated, and after working three hours returned to breakfast with a remarkably good appetite. I found myself extremely exhausted but soon was rested and am much encouraged in the hope of a favorable effect from the voyage upon my health.

We are lying in a narrow passage between two high rock eminences not far from the open sea which is visible toward the North. Two anchors from our bow and two lines from our Stern made fast to the rocks of a ragged promontory keep us safely in our berth. The land on which it is situated is an island I am told but this circumstance can add but little to the isolated situation of the solitary dwelling which displays its unpretending form a cable link from our vessel. It is him and irregular shape very shabby and patched poorly lighted to appearance by small Windows. There are two or three pens around which which they are pleased to denominate gardens but the huge snow bank which now in the middle of June obstinately clings to the Cliff behind us bespeaks to me no favorable omen for the business of gardening. Plenty of cabbages and turnips are raised I am told. There are likewise one or two old buildings near the waterside used about the fishing business while plenty of boats lie on the shore or float near it. Two caws[?] are picking the sterile shore for an unenvied substance but I was surprised to see them looking as well as they do. But to the eye of a New Englander the most curious part of the whole scene is the appearance of the great number of large, lean, lazy looking dogs of all colors wandering about in every direction. As I first saw a number of these creatures I was about pronouncing an anathema on the poverty-stricken inhabitant of the hut who would harbor such parasites to eat out his scanty stores but was hastily prevented by the recollection that I am now in a part of the country where the dog is the most useful of domesticated animals. I changed my notion of them altogether when I learned that a respectable pile of lumber lying on the beach was drawn by them forty miles. Thus far must be brought all the timber the people can have. They appear from what I have seen of them to be a kindhearted people but are rather immoral; still in this last particular they put to shame our crew who have enjoyed all the light and privileges of happy New England.

There are now seven schooners in harbor containing probably rising of a hundred souls. One of them came in today: she made a fine appearance as she passed us under full sail running with a free wind, and brought to my mind in a favorable manner the old saying that “the most beautiful object in the world is a vessel under sail.” She soon luffed up with a graceful curve, filled away on the other tack, repassed us and bore down the harbor shortening sail as she went. She returned however and moored alongside.  

Our boats went out this morning but returned with very few fish. The time for fishing has not come yet, but [???] the few caught, they will be along soon. The boats were gone about seven hours, and the men without breakfast. It would be a dreadful hardship in the country to work so long on an empty stomach, but is thought nothing of here. Don't know whether I can weather this or not but shall probably become accustomed to it.

A boat is now alongside with eggs for sale. They are the wild fowls eggs, rather longer than hens egg, and beautifully spotted with all colors. A number of bushels are lying in the boat in bulk from which I take it eggs are not scarce. The weather is fine today was an ordinary winter dress is comfortable on deck even without exercise. Snowbanks sweating freely I observe.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Saturday, June 15 I had been doing some work yesterday almost for the first time since I came aboard, and was reaping the benefit of it in the way of sweet sleep, when, about 10 o'clock, I was awakened by a fierce outcry of, “all hands up. Squall coming.” Capt. rushed over my bed, which lies on his state room floor, and there was a general rush for the companion-way. I stopped however, and partly dressed myself, knowing I could be of no use on deck, being entirely unacquainted with the rigging. There was a tumult on deck for some time, but the squall was mostly rain and did not last long. I calmed myself, after so exciting a scene, as well as I could and getting [???] more asleep cared no more for squalls during the night. “Sail-ho,” exclaimed Capt Sanborn, who was carefully looking into the dense mist ahead, and soon all hands were looking intently in that direction. She proved to be a schooner from Newburyport, bound like us for Salmon River. We approached and hailed her, learned something of our whereabouts, or at least got her Capt's opinion as to it, and sailed in company with her some distance. This proved no disagreeable event for it is some days since we have seen any vessel or anything else has occurred to break the monotony of the voyage. From the information we derived from her however, we were led astray from our course and lost some time by it. But Cook and I are a thinking an incident occurred this forenoon, which effectively broke our monotony, and we shall be satisfied by this for a long time without desiring anything further of the kind. I had just gone into his galley to warm myself a little, when we discovered that a pan of fat in the oven was on fire. Cook opened the oven and drew out the pan, when in an instant a large share of the limited space in the galley was filled with flame. I made a plunge for the door, and cook after me, neither of us stopping to pay our parting respects, but wo be to us! and especially to my companion, our boat lay so near the galley, that there was barely room for anybody to pass, and a hasty exit was out of the question. Cook quickly turned for the other door and escaped into the open air with singed hair and scorched face. The crew joked us not a little about coming out in such a hurry, notwithstanding that Cook thinks I went none too fast, and altogether we make a laughing matter of it, though no one envies Cook his burnt face. Tis not a deep burn however, and will soon heal doubtless. It might be thought that the title of Cook was a little degrading, and so it might be sometimes, yet so I call my good friend who prepares our food, unromantic as it is, because the rest call him so, because I can't recollect his name, and because it is in perfect conformity with the fishing business. In short this is no place for complements of any kind, and when my shipmates protested against trying to remember my name, and christened me “Doctor” I made not a particle of objection. Today we have been coasting along the shore of Labrador. An offshore wind has dispelled the mist which has hung over us so long and we can now see the shore clearly. It has been a rocky barren coast all the way rising into bleak hills of moderate height and thickly scattered over with snowbanks and [???] of ice. The air is chilly of course but not more so than we have had days past and in fact not so much so this afternoon by reason of the fine weather. I felt not a little interested when Capt. pointed out to me a white object in the horizon which he informed me was an island of ice. We passed afterward quite near a small one. The part above water was not larger than a good-sized cottage I thought and appeared not as magnificent as some I have heard of. Still it afforded a very good idea of what an iceberg is except in size and would doubtless have made a better appearance had the sun been shining. There was something grand and romantic in its unwieldy and irregular form, and I should be glad to see it afloat for it now grounded, and the motion of the waves would I imagine have been an addition to its appearance but I would not like to encounter it in close action in either case. Towards night we arrived at the entrance to Salmon River. Passing up the river with a very light wind we passed a number of small buildings on a point of land which was the first dwelling we had seen I think since we left Newburyport. We gave and received three salutes as we passed and I didn't wonder the inhabitants of this barren coast should feel like saluting at the arrival of their annual visitors the fishermen. We had hoped to reach our mooring places tonight but soon found ourselves entirely becalmed. And after some rolling succeeded in getting far enough from the shore towards which we had inclined to anchor in safety. Night has now come on, Jack's mud hook is down, and the week's work is well-nigh done I think

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Friday, June 14 How the question among the weather-wise, considered in my last entry, was decided, as the night of the 10th drew on, might perhaps be inferred from my long silence. The wind was freshening when I retired. The vessel began to rool rather more heavily, and I was lying awake, listening to the roaring of the wind, and dashing of the waves, when one of the men came down to tell Capt. that the wind was “freezing up.” Capt. went on deck, and soon came the order, “Call all hands up and reef the fore-sale.” Accordingly there was a general turn-out, but my meditations as to probabilities and possibilities, was soon interrupted by the order, “put two reefs into her,” together with sundry remarks about the wind, from which I gathered that it was increasing. I was not disappointed in the impression I had formed of feeling a heavier rooling. In fact I was soon tossing from side to side of my berth, feeling more and more sea-sick and heartily wishing the night was over. There was a great deal of noise and confusion on deck, but I could not distinguish one thing from another sufficiently distinctly to notice anything unusual, until I heard the Capt’s sharp voice. “What's the matter.” “Fore-sail’s gone,” was the quick reply; “get her before the wind,” exclaimed Capt. and preparations were made to replace the shattered sail. This being done we again hove to under a “too reef foresail” and rode the night out, notwithstanding Capt’s off expressed fear that we should lose boats galley and all off deck. It was about 1242 o'clock when, after a long mental debate, I mustered courage enough to overcome my sick feelings (for these were the only hindrance) and come on deck. The Mermaids had lit up their submarine lamps, and were beautifully illuminating the top of each foam crested wave, with a phosphorescent light. I suppose their object was to cheer the heart of “poor Jack” amid his hardships and toils, for they certainly did nothing toward guiding him across the pathless deep. All else was dark, though the clouds were not so thick but the sky was less dark than the deep. I leaned over the rail to watch the waves as they raised and lowered us alternately, now coming so high that I might dip my hand in the brine; now sinking into a deep abyss beneath me. Our whole wake was lighted up quite distinctly and in the phosphorescent waves alongside I could see little brilliant atoms flying about in every direction. I could hardly be satisfied with looking, but I was sick and weak, the wind was blowing cold, and going below I sought my couch, where the wind and motion of the vessel decreasing I was glad to get a little sleep. We had rather a rough day, Tuesday. I was too sick to eat, or do anything useful, and kept my berth nearly all day. I rested pretty well during the night, and next day it was calmer. Yesterday occurred an incident exemplifying sea life. A flaw of wind had taken the foresail aback, when the fore beam “guy” (so the sailors call it) parted, and in an instant the foresail jibed. Cook was fussing by the fore shut[?] At the time, and by some means his head became entangled in the parts of the sheet. He was thus carried by the neck across from side to side of the vessel, and his head drewn?? over the side of our Starboard after boat. Tis a wonder he was not instantly killed, but he mercifully escaped with a bruised head, a sprained neck and severe headache. Today it became more calm, and after getting up and taking the air, I felt much revived. In fact that distressing, discouraging feeling seasickness, was gone altogether, and I was gay as a lark all day. We have been coasting along the southwestern shore of Newfoundland all day. The fog has been so thick between that nothing could be seen of land excepting an occasional head land which could be just discerned.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Monday, June 10 We are now running in an East North easterly direction, along the coast of Nova Scotia, with an easterly wind. I have felt better than formerly today, though far from well yet. I am much troubled for want of proper food, for my stomach is weak. I feel rather dull and am not fit for reading, writing, or study. When I first came aboard, I was struck by the appearance of our cook. He is a foreigner, from Ireland he says, though he is far from being one of the low Irish. He has evidently been brought up among refined people, and has got into a worse place here, than he had by any means anticipated. He finds a great deal of difficulty about his cooking, and I cannot help pitying him, for I think he was so brought up that he knows not how to turn his hand to any business. Dinner came upon the table today altogether uneatable. [???] for the cook was [???] of course. He is evidently a sensitive person, and appeared to feel his position keenly while he fell under the reproach of the Capt.      Heard a number of ominous remarks from sailors about a “dirty night.” Prospects of the weather were discussed by Capt and others, various opinions expressed, and I am patiently, though not altogether, disinterestedly awaiting the event.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Saturday, June 8 I enjoyed the commencement of my voyage very well. True I felt a little sad at parting with my kind friends Mr. Mariam's family, who showed themselves practical friends even beyond my expectation, but I could look forward in the hope of good health as the result of my voyage, and take courage. But my comfort was but momentary. The sea did not cool very badly, but the motion of the vessel seemed different from any one I was ever in. This peculiarity was remarked by others as well as myself, and I suppose it was owing to this that I was more seasick yesterday afternoon than I have ever been before. I ate no dinner, barely tasted of coffee at supper, and was very weak of course. I had hoped to have maintained my title to a berth of which I taken possession, but when I found how crowded we were I had little inclination to do so. I spread my mattress on the floor in Capts state room, and my sickness was soon lost in sleep. Arose quite early this morning feeling sick at my stomach, but after going on deck, was somewhat [???]. the sun has shone brightly all day, and no doubt it is a very warm day ashore but here the wind blows cold, and I am obliged to increase my clothing to keep comfortable. The cold no doubt affects me more on account of my sickness. I have been more or less sick all day, though much better than yesterday.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

June 7 I was very busy all day Wednesday getting ready for my intended voyage. It has been excessively hot weather for two or three days and I feel the effect of it very much. With some difficulty I dragged myself about town purchasing mattress, blankets, quilts, mittens, eating utensils, and all the various articles which compose a fisherman's outfit. One thing I am lacking, I have no English dictionary. I pondered a long time whether I should purchase one or not. A little money is a small affair, but in some circumstances it is magnified exceedingly. Persons who are always blessed with abundant means know nothing of the perplexity of seeing two objects both of which are greatly wanted and needed, yet only one of which can be afforded. Well, after pondering a while and looking over my scanty purse, thinking on the one hand of the expenses I might have to incur before I could reach home, and on the other of the great lack of a dictionary of my native tongue, I concluded to purchase at least a cheap one. So I set off for town, but not finding one of the kind I wanted, I did not purchase, and am off without any. Noah Webster is my favorite lexicographer. It was owing to my preference for him that I did not purchase. I believe he has the best dictionary of our language, but I had not the farthest idea of going into the expense of his work unabridged, and whether his smaller works are preferable to other authors I cant say. Next morning I went to the wharf before breakfast, to be sure the vessel should not go without me. But my [???]tion was useless, as she did not sail till this morning. I did not know when she would start, and after each meal during the day, I took leave of Mr. Merriam's family, not knowing whether I should return or not. My patience was pretty well exhausted, at least my natural patience, for I trust I have a kind of patience which is not natural. It was with a fluttering heart that I went to the post office on Wednesday night. I rather expected a letter from home and what would they say to my going to Labrador? The clerk handed me a letter. It was mailed at [seiban suban seilvan seilran] and [subscribed???] In father's handwriting. I tore it eagerly open and hastily ran through its contents, till I ascertained their consent to my going, and then walked away quite relieved. They had not received my last letter announcing my absolute intention of going, but saw from a preceding letter that such was my decision. Last night I slept aboard; was not particularly pleased with the accommodations but it was full as good as I had expected, and better than I had last fall in the grand island. I returned to Mr. Mariam's to breakfast, and coming back to the vessel we were soon under sail. I waved a parting goodbye to friend Henry Mariam who reached the wharf when we were a cable's length from it, and turned my face towards Labrador. [Leading on pilot??????] after we had got outside the [bar?], We laid on canvas for Cape Sable[?] running East by South according to the compass. The variation made our true course due East. The wind was in a southeasterly direction, and we were on it. Having got fairly aboard and gazed upon the receding town and various parts of the harbor till I was tired, I began to consider my present situation. Here I am, aboard a small sized schooner, with 20 hands all told, mostly Irishmen. [?]am large fishing boats take up almost the whole main deck, while there is merely room on the quarter deck to walk each side of the Cabin. Altogether it is a very cluttered up place but I am determined to make the best of every thing. Feeling a want of something to do I took my diary to write a little. Don't know whether one of my shipmates ever saw anyone writing before or not; should rather think he had sometime though, for as he bent intently over my shoulder, watching my every movement, he remarked in Irish brogue, “he’s a very good hand.” So much for the refinement of my ships company.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

Diary Newburyport, June 4, 1850 After much hesitation and doubt I have finally decided on going to Labrador. It seemed to me best that I should go and although both my parents were rather against it yet I have good reason for thinking that they took a wrong view of many circumstances which no one could understand as well as I myself. To spend three month in a place so remote from the comfort of civilization must indeed always involve some risk but I think the risk no greater with me now than some weeks ago when mother proposed to me to go to that distant region. I think it best to go and I can hardly view it in any other light. The die is now cast and, Providence permitting, we shall sail day after tomorrow (Thursday). I am to do some work while on board, if I am able, enough to pay my board. I could hardly think of going on any other conditions for I am unable to do any hard work and as for paying my board, alas for the invalid purse! That will never do. I sometimes have an unpleasant feeling of dependence when I think how much dear father has done for me and he may have to do yet more perhaps. Still no one could be more willing to do anything for me, that [???] to benefit me than he. Thank God! for the blessing of kind and considerate parents. I was invited out to tea this afternoon with Mr Mariam's family, by a Mrs. Wordbury, living on Adelphia St., Newbury. Her husband was lost at sea a year or two since. I found a goodhearted family, no ways disagreeable, though a little antique in manners. None the worse for this last qualification, but I was almost amused by the characteristic pervading other members of the family, which we sometimes meet with, of pronouncing the most trivial remark with all the deliberation of an old man giving a proverb.

[thehibbardjournal-blog]

My great-aunt gave me an old journal the other day. It belonged to one of our ancestors, one David S. Hibbard. I know nothing about him, other than that he was alive in 1850 and presumably for some time previous. In this blog I will post a transcription of his diary, as best I can read it, one entry at a time.