Saturday night. We
built a fire in the stove, made tea and fed ourselves, the cats, and
the hen from our grub bag. I invariably insisted that our drivers
travel as long as there was light, which at this season lasted until
after eight o'clock, and we pushed on until we came to Corbett's Bite,
a place that also rejoices in the name of New York, the same having
been facetiously bestowed upon it by some fisherman wag, because four
small huts had been collected there to make a "city."

The inhabitants of New York had all moved to their fishing quarters
farther out on the coast when we arrived, and we took possession for
the night of the best of the huts. Filth and slush lay an inch deep on
the floor of the single room. A hole in the roof provided a means of
escape for the smoke from the fire we built in an improvised fireplace,
and, at the same time, a constant source of fear on our part lest some
of the dogs which roamed at will over the roof, fall through it and
into our fire. An old bench and loose boards taken from a
semi-partition in the room served as beds for our party, and we passed
a fairly comfortable night.

We were off at daylight, and at half-past eight that morning (May 3d)
reached Williams Harbour, where I had hoped to engage the teams of John
and James Russell and proceed immediately to Battle Harbour, which
place was now only a few miles off. But the Russells were away and did
not return until night, so that we were unable to proceed until the
following morning. With their teams of eight and six dogs the Russells
got us away early, however, and at half-past eleven that morning (May
4th) we arrived at Fox Harbour, eight miles across the bay from Battle
Harbour. Now a new problem presented itself, which was all the more
exasperating for the reason that we were in sight of our goal. The ice
pack was in the bay, and it was quite impossible to cross it until the
wind might shift and blow the pack out. It is true that by a tortuous
trail some thirty miles around we could with dogs reach Cape Charles,
just below Battle Harbour; but none of the few drivers that knew the
trail was anxious to undertake the journey, and as the probabilities
were that even if we did succeed in reaching Cape Charles we should be
in the same fix there as where we were, our only course seemed to be to
remain at Fox Harbour and wait. No vessel, they told us, had yet
arrived either at Battle Harbour or Cape Charles.

George Wak