CHAPTER XVIITHE PACKET MONTH

‘February is the most interesting month of the year to us; it is the “Packet Month,” the month in which we have our one communication with the outer world during the dreary months of our long winter. On the third day of the month, 1886, we had two arrivals—Mr. Broughton and Mr. Vincent, the agents from Rupert’s House and Albany—each bringing the “packet” of his respective district. The news was generally good, but from the smallest post of all—English River—came the saddest possible. Three children of the only resident there, the whole of whom were in robust health in the autumn, were cut off by diphtheria in the course of eleven days, in the beginning of winter.

AN INDIAN TRAVELLING ON SNOW-SHOES

‘On the 5th, a little after breakfast, the “packeters” were espied crossing the river, in snow-shoes. Directly they arrived their precious load was transferred to the Hudson’s Bay Company offices; there hammers and chisels, seized by willing hands, soon knocked the covers from the boxes, and the work of distribution commenced. All my letters are thrownupon the table; the eye travels along them somewhat nervously, brightening as this and that well-known hand is seen, looking with sad inquiry at such as are black-edged, and disappointedly anxious if those expected most are not forthcoming. The receiving of letters is good; the answering of them, when they are many in number, is great drudgery. Telephones have not come our way yet, and the nearest telegraph office is about four hundred miles distant.

‘On the 7th the break-up of our party commenced. Mr. Broughton started for Albany. In the evening the packet was closed, and the next morning the “packeters” once more turned their faces southwards, and set out on their three hundred miles’ tramp to Abbitibbe; thence the packet will be forwarded to Temiscamingue and Matawa, and twelve days more will take it to England.’

In March Mr. Nevitt left Moose Fort for Rupert’s House, with the purpose of at length establishing a permanent mission at that station. ‘For many years I had longed, with a most earnest longing, to see a missionary established there, until the heart was beginning to grow sick, and at last I determined to give up all help here at Moose, rather than allow my dear hungering people to remain longer without a shepherd to watch over them. I therefore told Mr. Nevitt to prepare for departure. This was neither unexpected nor disagreeable to him. A train of dogs and a sledge arrived from Rupert’s House, which, after a few days’ stay here, were to return thither with supplies of various kinds. Here was an opportunitynot to be neglected. A few necessaries were collected and placed in the sledge, and, after having been commended to God’s providential care, he set out for his new home, accompanied by two members of his future flock. One of them, Richard Swanson, was educated at our mission school at Moose; the other, Samuel Wesley, at the school at Albany.’

This spring there was a flood of a somewhat serious character at Moose. At three o’clock one morning in April, a heavy crash awoke all the inhabitants of the fort. An immense field of ice was borne in on the land, the water rose several feet at once, and everyone was on the alert. Nothing serious happened during the day, and Mrs. Peck, who was staying at Moose on account of her health, and the servant retired to bed about half-past nine.

At eleven the alarm bell was rung; almost everyone fled to the factory; the bishop took Mrs. Peck to one of the mission buildings further from the river, he himself remaining up to watch. Early the next morning they went to the company’s establishment, where the bishop spent the day in bed, for he had passed the greater part of two nights without removing his clothes. Had the water risen only a little higher, the results would have been very disastrous. As it was, the scene all around was desolate in the extreme. However, Easter Sunday dawned bright and fair, the ice yielded to the current, and the water found again its proper channel.

When May came that year the snow had disappeared,the grass was becoming green, the air was mild and genial, and the birds were singing in the woods, despite the huge ice blocks which still were lying there. June, 1886, was the finest month the bishop had ever known in Hudson’s Bay. Generally at that time winter has scarcely departed, and the trees show no appearance of life; but now the poplars were bursting into leaf, the willows were already clothed with the first fresh flush of green, birds hopped among the branches, the cattle bells told that the cows were grazing near at hand, and the meadows formed one superb carpet. The hearts of all in that sterile land rejoiced, but Moose was comparatively empty, for the season being so advanced the Indian brigades had left early.

‘Before starting they came to me, mostly one by one, each to give me his little confidence. One said: “I have not yet given my subscription to the church, and will give it now, but I am not able to do as much as I did last year; then I made a good fur hunt, this year but a very poor one; but I know we must not appear before God empty, so I will do what I can.” Another said: “Pray for me while I am away. I know I have given you a great deal of trouble, and I am very sad at heart at thinking how wickedly and foolishly I have acted, but I hope I shall be very different in future.” Another: “My wife has been taken ill; I shall be glad if you will go to her, and read and pray by her.” Another and another and yet another required a book, some two, a Prayer and hymn-book; then all descend totheir boats, which speedily make from the shore, and, impelled by heavy oars, they commence their journey.’

On July 1, 1886, the bishop wrote: ‘It is hot; we are being literally baked, and from the heat there is scarcely any shelter, for the houses, all made of wood, retain the heat in such a manner that they are like ovens. But we are getting exactly the weather we need, with a prospect of very fair crops of potatoes and turnips, and, what is better, of being free from the terrible epidemics which have caused so much sorrow during the last few years. The packet, or rather the first instalment of it, reached us late in the evening of Sunday, June 20—the first news from the outer world since the beginning of February; and then for a day or two we were deep in letters and newspapers. But the 23rd was the great day of arrivals, for we had no less than three. In the early morning, soon after getting up, we saw a large boat coming up the river; the boat from Rupert’s House, coming for supplies for the mission. Presently we saw a large canoe, and from the shape of it we knew it must be from Fort George, and that our dear friend and earnest worker, Mr. Peck, must be in it; and very soon I had the pleasure of grasping by the hand a sunburnt, weather-beaten son of toil, who, after more than four months of hard and continuous work—of travel by snow-shoe, dog-sledge, and canoe—returned to his wife, to find her as well as she had ever been in her life, and hoping to see a steam-launch, which had been sent out for his use, ready forsea, that he might at once leave again for his northern home. But in this he was disappointed, for the job of putting the various parts together was more difficult than we had anticipated. During the whole month the hammers were giving forth their noise from four o’clock in the morning until night. All the mission staff, setting aside their work, spent day after day in steaming planks, nailing them on, in sawing wood, in caulking, and painting, and puttying. On the same day came the remainder of the packet.

‘Throughout the first days of July all were still occupied with Mr. Peck’s boat. The hammering went on; nail after nail was driven, and the caulking went on incessantly; the air was filled with the odour of burning tar. On the 9th the craft was ready to be launched. In the evening almost everyone in the place was at the mission, either as a spectator or a helper. We had a long way to drag the boat, and this occupied nearly two hours. Then we had the pleasure of seeing it descend quietly into the water, in which, I trust, it will make many voyages for the extension of the kingdom of our Lord among the Indians and Eskimo of the wide district of East Main.

‘All now were busy in preparation for departure, for the sooner our friends arrived at their place of destination the better. Saturday was so employed, and so was Monday; while on Sunday we held three delightful services, at two of which Mr. Peck preached.

‘On Tuesday the boat was loaded with casks of flour, cans of beef and salt pork, chests of tea, and all the other etceteras needful to housekeeping, for at Fort George the nearest shop is three hundred miles away. About two o’clock in the afternoon it went down the river. An hour afterwards, Mr. and Mrs. Peck and our kind doctor entered a canoe and, amid the blessing and prayers of a large number of people assembled on the bank of the river, they set off. Canoe and boat went on to Ship’s Sands, an island eight miles down the river. Here they passed the night. The next day Mr. Peck went on board his boat, while Mrs. Peck continued her voyage in the canoe. In a few days East Main was reached; here Mrs. Peck rested for a night. East Main was formerly the principal Hudson’s Bay Company’s station in James’ Bay, but the river silting up and preventing the annual ship from getting near enough for protection from the open sea, Moose became the head-quarters of the fur trade. A hundred and fifty miles had yet to be travelled, which would occupy five or six days. At last Fort George, a few miles up the Fort George River, was reached, the home of the faithful missionary and his brave and faithful wife.

THE CHURCH AT FORT GEORGE

‘When the Pecks had left, an influenza cold attacked almost everyone at Moose, persistently clinging to the sufferers; but is it any wonder that we have colds here, when sometimes there is a difference of over fifty degrees between the temperature of the morningand evening? In the morning we may be almost roasting: before evening the wind may have suddenly chopped round to the north, and, sweeping over the frozen bay, may render fires and warm coats desirable, if not necessary.’

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