MISSIONARY TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS.
1. Shipwreck
From PA28:14-17: Retrospect of the History of the Mission of the Brethren's Church in Labrador for the Past Hundred Years:
Jens Haven's account of a trip north from Nain to survey for a second mission site. In August 1774 he set out with fellow brethren Brasen, Lister, and Lehman (ships crew 2 sailors and captain and 2 Eskimos to make compliment of nine) in a small sloop.
"It had snowed the whole night, and was very cold. A brisk gale sprung up from the north-east, which inspired us with the hope that we should reach Nain. September 14th, towards four p.m., we all at once found ourselves in shoal water, which surprised us exceedingly, as we were in the usual channel between Nain and Navon, and more than a league from the nearest island. We tacked about immediately. Scarcely had we done this, when the vessel struck on a rocky bottom, which, as we afterwards learned, is dry at spring-tide. The boat was lowered immediately, in order to take the soundings round the ship, and, as we found deep water at the prow, we proposed casting an anchor forwards. There was too much sea, however, to allow us to row out with it; we therefore let down a small anchor to steady the boat during this operation. But no sooner was the large anchor on board the boat, than the sails got loose, and drove it before the wind; so that it took the men half an hour's hard rowing to get back to the sloop, and reach the rope which we threw out to them. After the anchor was cast, we endeavoured to wear the ship off, but finding that the anchor drove, and that we had now only four feet of water, we were obliged to desist till the tide should turn, and commended ourselves meanwhile to the mercy of God. We had, however, but slender hope that the ship would hold out so long, as the waves broke over us incessantly, and we expected every moment to see it go to pieces. We secured the boat as well as we could, by means of three strong ropes, two inches thick, and, in full resignation to the Lord's will, determined to stay in the sloop till morning, if possible. The wind roared furiously; every wave washed over us; and the foaming of the deep was rendered yet more terrible by the thick darkness of the night. Towards ten o'clock the ship began to roll most violently, and to drive upon the cliffs in such a manner that everything on board was turned upside down, and we could not but fear that the timbers would soon part. Shortly after ten the rudder was carried away by a huge wave, which broke over the whole vessel, and covered us with a winding-sheet. Our two sailors entreated us to take to the boat, if we wished to save our lives. We represented to them the danger of braving so rough a sea in so small a boat; and that, supposing it could outlive that, it must inevitably perish in the breakers on the coast, which we could not avoid in the darkness. We begged them to stay by the ship as long as possible; perhaps we might maintain the post till daybreak, and, at all events, should it come to the worst, we had the boat to fly to. They appeared to give in to our arguments; but we were obliged to watch their motions lest they should slip off with the boat. We waited in stillness what our dear Lord should appoint for us.
By two o'clock in the morning of the 15th, the sloop had shipped so much water, that the chests on which we sat began to float, and we were obliged to leave the cabin and go on to the upper deck, where a fearful scene presented itself. The middle deck was entirely under water, and the waves were rolling mountains high. All were now convinced that it was time to leave the vessel. But here we were met by a new difficulty. The sea was so rough, that, had we brought the boat alongside, it would inevitably have been stove in. We therefore drew it astern, and, climbing one by one down the anchor shaft, jumped into it, and through the mercy of God, we all, nine in number, succeeded in reaching it. We now found that we had taken this step only just in time, for two of the three ropes by which the boat was moored had already given way, and the third held only by one strand, the others having parted, so that we should very soon have lost the boat. Our first business was to bale out the water which the boat had shipped in no small quantity. Oars being useless in such a sea, we let the boat run before the wind, which it did with incredible celerity. We attempted in vain to get under the lee of different islands, as the breakers drove us off the coast whenever we approached it. At length we thought we saw a prospect of finding harbourage between two islands, but we were again interrupted by rocks and breakers. The boat filled with water, which kept us constantly at work, and as there appeared to be no other resource left, we resolved in God's name to run the boat on shore, which was about twenty yards distant, but begirt with cliffs on which the waves were dashing furiously. We darted rapidly through them, when the boat struck on a sunken rock with such violence, that we were all thrown from our seats, and the boat instantly filled with water. The captain, John Hill, and the two sailors, threw themselves into the sea, and swam to land, which they gained in safety, and from whence they reached out an oar to assist the rest in landing. Br. Lister was the first who neared the shore, but he was driven back into the sea by the violence of the waves. On approaching the rocks a second time, he found a small ledge, by which he held on, till the oar was extended to him by his companions on the strand. I had been thrown out of the boat by the first shock, and resigned myself to the Lord's gracious hands to do with me what He pleased. After swallowing a large quantity of water, I was hurled back into the boat, and as it drifted to the shore, I succeeded in grasping the friendly oar. At the same time, the Esquimaux pilot clung to my legs, and thus we were both drawn up the rocks together. Br. Brasen thrice gained the rocks, and twice caught hold of the aor, but he was so exhausted, and encumbered besides by his heavy garments, that he could make no effort to save himself, and finally sank. Br. Lehman was heard exclaiming, as the boat struck, 'Dear Saviour, I commend my spirit into Thy hands!' We all thought that he had got on shore, but it pleased the Lord thus to take him to Himself. The rest of us who had reached dry land were rescued for the present from a watery grave, but we found ourselves on a bare rock, half dead with cold, in so dark a night, that we could not see a hand before us, -without shelter, without food, without boat,- in short, without the smallest gleam of hope that we should ever leave this fearful spot alive. We knew that no Esquimoes were likely to come this way, as they had all resolved to winter to the south of Nain. The cold was intense, so that we were obliged to keep ourselves warm by constant motion. When morning came, we sought for our boat, but in vain: a few fragments of it which had been washed on shore, was all that we could find, and we concluded that it had gone to pieces. We also met with a fw blankets, some broken biscuits, and other articles, which we collected very carefully. At low water, we discovered the bodies of our two brethren lying close together on the strand, but they were quite dead. They were safe from all trouble, and had brethren surviving to bury their remains, while we had no other prospect than to pine away with hunger, and leave our bodies to be entombed by birds and beasts of prey. About seven o'clock in the morning, we had the joy to see, first the prow and then the stern of our boat emerging from the water. But our joy was damped on dragging it to land, for the planks were torn off from both sides of the keel, and the few ribs left were in splinters. Happily, however, the prow, stern, and keel, were yet entire. We now set ourselves to repair the boat, impracticable as it seemed with such a lack of materials for the purpose. Yet we contrived to lash the blankets over the open spaces, sewing to them, in addition, all the seal-skins we could muster from our upper and nether garments, including even our boots. We spent three days in these miserable repairs, and, on the 18th, launched our boat for Nain, which, by the help of an Eskimo party that we met not far from the settlement, we succeded in reaching the same evening."
2. Augustus
"December the 1st [1867] was marked by a severe snow-storm, so that we feared all the seal-nets would be lost. The next day, the thermometer shewed 8o below zero, or 40o below the freezing-point. Yet some men ventured out in their kayaks and secured four seals. But one of them, a young man named Augustus, did not return in the evening. He had been enclosed by the thin floating ice, which became more solid every hour, but yet did not set sufficiently to be crossed in order to reach the land. Night came on, and his companions could see him at a distance, but, being unable to reach him, had to return home without him. We were greatly distressed on his account, and much prayer was made for him, that the Lord would save him in this danger. It seemed quite impossible that any one could spend many hours, sitting in a kayak, in such extreme cold, without being frozen to death. In the night a high wind sprang up, and next morning almost all the ice formed the previous day was driven out to sea, so that we feared the worst. Some men went out to look for him, but, in the afternoon, how rejoiced were we to see him return in his kayak, with a seal which he had
taken. Another, which he had harpooned, was lost in the ice. He said, "While I live, I shall tremble. Kneeling in my kayak, I did not preceive the cold much. But I thought of my sins, and prayed the Lord to deliver me this once. I was not a little alarmed when I perceived that I was driving towards the last point of land, and that the ice shewed no signs of breaking. However, there came a swell from the sea, and broke up the ice, so that I could reach the land."
-(PA27:53-54 (1867): "Extracts of the Diary of Hopedale")
1. Shipwreck
From PA28:14-17: Retrospect of the History of the Mission of the Brethren's Church in Labrador for the Past Hundred Years:
Jens Haven's account of a trip north from Nain to survey for a second mission site. In August 1774 he set out with fellow brethren Brasen, Lister, and Lehman (ships crew 2 sailors and captain and 2 Eskimos to make compliment of nine) in a small sloop.
"It had snowed the whole night, and was very cold. A brisk gale sprung up from the north-east, which inspired us with the hope that we should reach Nain. September 14th, towards four p.m., we all at once found ourselves in shoal water, which surprised us exceedingly, as we were in the usual channel between Nain and Navon, and more than a league from the nearest island. We tacked about immediately. Scarcely had we done this, when the vessel struck on a rocky bottom, which, as we afterwards learned, is dry at spring-tide. The boat was lowered immediately, in order to take the soundings round the ship, and, as we found deep water at the prow, we proposed casting an anchor forwards. There was too much sea, however, to allow us to row out with it; we therefore let down a small anchor to steady the boat during this operation. But no sooner was the large anchor on board the boat, than the sails got loose, and drove it before the wind; so that it took the men half an hour's hard rowing to get back to the sloop, and reach the rope which we threw out to them. After the anchor was cast, we endeavoured to wear the ship off, but finding that the anchor drove, and that we had now only four feet of water, we were obliged to desist till the tide should turn, and commended ourselves meanwhile to the mercy of God. We had, however, but slender hope that the ship would hold out so long, as the waves broke over us incessantly, and we expected every moment to see it go to pieces. We secured the boat as well as we could, by means of three strong ropes, two inches thick, and, in full resignation to the Lord's will, determined to stay in the sloop till morning, if possible. The wind roared furiously; every wave washed over us; and the foaming of the deep was rendered yet more terrible by the thick darkness of the night. Towards ten o'clock the ship began to roll most violently, and to drive upon the cliffs in such a manner that everything on board was turned upside down, and we could not but fear that the timbers would soon part. Shortly after ten the rudder was carried away by a huge wave, which broke over the whole vessel, and covered us with a winding-sheet. Our two sailors entreated us to take to the boat, if we wished to save our lives. We represented to them the danger of braving so rough a sea in so small a boat; and that, supposing it could outlive that, it must inevitably perish in the breakers on the coast, which we could not avoid in the darkness. We begged them to stay by the ship as long as possible; perhaps we might maintain the post till daybreak, and, at all events, should it come to the worst, we had the boat to fly to. They appeared to give in to our arguments; but we were obliged to watch their motions lest they should slip off with the boat. We waited in stillness what our dear Lord should appoint for us.
By two o'clock in the morning of the 15th, the sloop had shipped so much water, that the chests on which we sat began to float, and we were obliged to leave the cabin and go on to the upper deck, where a fearful scene presented itself. The middle deck was entirely under water, and the waves were rolling mountains high. All were now convinced that it was time to leave the vessel. But here we were met by a new difficulty. The sea was so rough, that, had we brought the boat alongside, it would inevitably have been stove in. We therefore drew it astern, and, climbing one by one down the anchor shaft, jumped into it, and through the mercy of God, we all, nine in number, succeeded in reaching it. We now found that we had taken this step only just in time, for two of the three ropes by which the boat was moored had already given way, and the third held only by one strand, the others having parted, so that we should very soon have lost the boat. Our first business was to bale out the water which the boat had shipped in no small quantity. Oars being useless in such a sea, we let the boat run before the wind, which it did with incredible celerity. We attempted in vain to get under the lee of different islands, as the breakers drove us off the coast whenever we approached it. At length we thought we saw a prospect of finding harbourage between two islands, but we were again interrupted by rocks and breakers. The boat filled with water, which kept us constantly at work, and as there appeared to be no other resource left, we resolved in God's name to run the boat on shore, which was about twenty yards distant, but begirt with cliffs on which the waves were dashing furiously. We darted rapidly through them, when the boat struck on a sunken rock with such violence, that we were all thrown from our seats, and the boat instantly filled with water. The captain, John Hill, and the two sailors, threw themselves into the sea, and swam to land, which they gained in safety, and from whence they reached out an oar to assist the rest in landing. Br. Lister was the first who neared the shore, but he was driven back into the sea by the violence of the waves. On approaching the rocks a second time, he found a small ledge, by which he held on, till the oar was extended to him by his companions on the strand. I had been thrown out of the boat by the first shock, and resigned myself to the Lord's gracious hands to do with me what He pleased. After swallowing a large quantity of water, I was hurled back into the boat, and as it drifted to the shore, I succeeded in grasping the friendly oar. At the same time, the Esquimaux pilot clung to my legs, and thus we were both drawn up the rocks together. Br. Brasen thrice gained the rocks, and twice caught hold of the aor, but he was so exhausted, and encumbered besides by his heavy garments, that he could make no effort to save himself, and finally sank. Br. Lehman was heard exclaiming, as the boat struck, 'Dear Saviour, I commend my spirit into Thy hands!' We all thought that he had got on shore, but it pleased the Lord thus to take him to Himself. The rest of us who had reached dry land were rescued for the present from a watery grave, but we found ourselves on a bare rock, half dead with cold, in so dark a night, that we could not see a hand before us, -without shelter, without food, without boat,- in short, without the smallest gleam of hope that we should ever leave this fearful spot alive. We knew that no Esquimoes were likely to come this way, as they had all resolved to winter to the south of Nain. The cold was intense, so that we were obliged to keep ourselves warm by constant motion. When morning came, we sought for our boat, but in vain: a few fragments of it which had been washed on shore, was all that we could find, and we concluded that it had gone to pieces. We also met with a fw blankets, some broken biscuits, and other articles, which we collected very carefully. At low water, we discovered the bodies of our two brethren lying close together on the strand, but they were quite dead. They were safe from all trouble, and had brethren surviving to bury their remains, while we had no other prospect than to pine away with hunger, and leave our bodies to be entombed by birds and beasts of prey. About seven o'clock in the morning, we had the joy to see, first the prow and then the stern of our boat emerging from the water. But our joy was damped on dragging it to land, for the planks were torn off from both sides of the keel, and the few ribs left were in splinters. Happily, however, the prow, stern, and keel, were yet entire. We now set ourselves to repair the boat, impracticable as it seemed with such a lack of materials for the purpose. Yet we contrived to lash the blankets over the open spaces, sewing to them, in addition, all the seal-skins we could muster from our upper and nether garments, including even our boots. We spent three days in these miserable repairs, and, on the 18th, launched our boat for Nain, which, by the help of an Eskimo party that we met not far from the settlement, we succeded in reaching the same evening."
2. Augustus
"December the 1st [1867] was marked by a severe snow-storm, so that we feared all the seal-nets would be lost. The next day, the thermometer shewed 8o below zero, or 40o below the freezing-point. Yet some men ventured out in their kayaks and secured four seals. But one of them, a young man named Augustus, did not return in the evening. He had been enclosed by the thin floating ice, which became more solid every hour, but yet did not set sufficiently to be crossed in order to reach the land. Night came on, and his companions could see him at a distance, but, being unable to reach him, had to return home without him. We were greatly distressed on his account, and much prayer was made for him, that the Lord would save him in this danger. It seemed quite impossible that any one could spend many hours, sitting in a kayak, in such extreme cold, without being frozen to death. In the night a high wind sprang up, and next morning almost all the ice formed the previous day was driven out to sea, so that we feared the worst. Some men went out to look for him, but, in the afternoon, how rejoiced were we to see him return in his kayak, with a seal which he had
taken. Another, which he had harpooned, was lost in the ice. He said, "While I live, I shall tremble. Kneeling in my kayak, I did not preceive the cold much. But I thought of my sins, and prayed the Lord to deliver me this once. I was not a little alarmed when I perceived that I was driving towards the last point of land, and that the ice shewed no signs of breaking. However, there came a swell from the sea, and broke up the ice, so that I could reach the land."-(PA27:53-54 (1867): "Extracts of the Diary of Hopedale")
Photography by E. "Pep" Wheeler, north of Nain ca. 1929, in the collections of the Arctic Studies Center, Smithsonian Institution
3. A Tale of Mutiny and Cannibalism
From a letter from Okak (PA24:128-129): "On the 24th of September last, our people brought information respecting a man who had been found in a state of starvation. Before long, he was brought hither, and we provided for his wants as wellas we could. When he had gained some strength, we sent him to Nain in the newly-constructed sailing boat of one of our people. He stated that he and another had separated from a party, which at first consisted of nine men, and had wandered about on land. His companions died of exhaustion, and he himself was near death when he was discovered. Scarcely had he left us, when five others made their appearance, in a deplorable state of filth, hunger, and nakedness. They stated that two of their companions had died, and that they sought to satisfy the cravings of hunger with their flesh. They did not profess to have suffered shipwreck, but said they had been induced by the ill-treatment of the captain, to leave their ship, in the hope of meeting with some other vessel, or with European settlers on the coast. These five were thoroughly coarse, ungrateful beings. There was something mysterious about them, and perhaps the less is said, the better. We were truly thankful that some of our people were found willing, so late in the season, to take them also to Nain."
From a letter from Nain (PA24:124): "In the autumn [1860], we had a very unpleasant visit from six sailors, who had not suffered shipwreck, but had run away from their vessel. As was the case with those the year previous, they were found in the most wretched condition by some Esquimaux belonging to Okak. They were Americans, and were so evidently bad characters, that we should have handed them over to the civil authorities, had any such existed. As they contradicted each other, it is uncertain in what circumstances their ship was, when they left it. According to the statement of the majority, they had a dispute with the captain on account of his tyrannical conduct. They therefore left the ship in a small boat, when near the land, in the 66th degree of north latitude, in the vain hope of falling in with settlers. With the greatest coolness they stated that they had eaten one of their comrades, who had died. Altogether, three of their party had perished before they reached Okak; and, from some brutal expressions they let fall, we were led to fear that the survivors were not guiltless concerning their death. They were in a dreadful state of suffering and exhaustion from hunger; and although they had plunged themselves into this distress, we felt called upon to act towards them the good Samaritan's part. We therefore supplied their most pressing wants, and in three days sent them by an Esquimaux boat to Hopedale. They showed but little gratitude for the services rendered them. The Esquimaux who took them to Hopedale were brought into considerable peril in consequence of a sudden storm, but the strangers would not afford them the least assistance. They even stole the provisions which we had given the Esquimaux for their subsistence on the voyage, and made use of them in addition to their own. When the Esquimaux had returned in safety from this expedition, they made use of the significant expression, "Kingmititut nerilaukput," that is, "they gorged themselves like dogs".
From a letter from Hopedale (PA24:121): "There is one circumstance of a not very pleasant character to which we must refer. It is the fact, that some runaway sailors were sent to us from Nain, who had been found by the Esquimaux near Okak, in a starving state. They were very disorderly, and we were glad to be able to forward them to Kippokak the day after their arrival."
4. The Shaman and the Nennerluk (Crantz 1820:309)
A singular story, which circulated at Nain in 1773, and gained credit with the Esquimaux, may be mentioned as an instance of that deeply-rooted inclination for the marvellous and supernatural which rendered it so difficult, even for the Christian converts to wean themselves from their attachment to former superstitious notions and observances. It was reported that the men in the north had at length killed Innukpak, with his wife and children. This was a murderer of such monstrous size, that, while he stood in the valley of Nain, he might have rested his hand on the summit of the adjacent mountain. His dress was the white skin of the nennerluk, an amphibious bear, that hunted and devoured seals, each of whose ears was large enough for the covering of a capacious tent. This beast did not scruple to eat human flesh, when he came on shore, where some affirmed they had seen him, and were vexed when their testimony was doubted. Indeed the Brethren in Okkak thought they saw such a sea -monster one evening, in the August of 1786, which rose up to the height of a huge ice-berg, in the mouth of the bay, showed its white colour, and then plunged down again, leaving a whirlpool of foam. The Esquimaux, without hesitation, pronounced it to be the nennerluk; but as the description is so vague, we may justly call in question whether they were not deceived by some tumbling ice-berg.” (Crantz 1820:309)
Material Cited
Crantz, David
1820 Appendix: Narrative of the First Settlement made by the United Brethren on the Coast of Labrador, with a brief View of the Progress of the Mission. The History of Greenland: Including an Account of the Mission Carried on by the United Brethren in that country. pp.287-319. Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown: London.
PA = Periodical Accounts
