side, and I after it, shouting to the helmsman to tack back. This
he did, but I failed to cut him off the first time, as he got a bit
rattled. However, we rescued the ball.

We had chosen two islands two hundred miles apart for cottage
hospitals, one at Battle Harbour, on the north side of the entrance of
the St. Lawrence (Straits of Belle Isle), and the other at Indian
Harbour, out in the Atlantic at the mouth of the great Hamilton Inlet.
Both places were the centres of large fisheries, and were the
"bring-ups" for numberless schooners of the Labrador fleet on their
way North and South. The first, a building already half finished, was
donated by a local fishery firm by the name of Baine, Johnston and
Company. This was quickly made habitable, and patients were admitted
under Dr. Bobardt's care. The second building, assembled at St.
John's, was shipped by the donors, who were the owners of the Indian
Harbour fishery, Job Brothers and Company. Owing to difficulties in
landing, this building was not completed and ready for use until the
following year, so Dr. Curwen took charge of the hospital ship Albert,
and I cruised as far north as Okkak (lat. 57 deg.) in the Princess May, a
midget steam launch, eight feet wide, with a cook and an engineer. As
there was no coal obtainable in the North, we used wood, and her
fire-box being small the amount of cutting entailed left a permanent
impression on our biceps.

A friend from Ireland had presented this little boat, which I found
lying up on the Chester Race-Course, near our home on the Sands of
Dee. We had repaired her and steamed her through the canal into the
Mersey, where, somewhat to our humiliation, she had been slung up onto
the deck of an Allan liner for her trans-Atlantic passage, as if she
were nothing but an extra hand satchel. Nor was our pride restored
when on her arrival it was found that her funnel was missing among the
general baggage in the hold. We had to wait in St. John's for a new
one before starting on our trip North. The close of the voyage proved
a fitting corollary. In crossing the Straits of Belle Isle, the last
boat to leave the Labrador, we ran short of fuel, and had to burn our
cabin-top to make the French shore, having also lost our compass
overboard. Here we delayed repairing and refitting so long that the
authorities in St. John's became alarmed and despatched their mail
steamer in search of us. I still remember my astonishment, when, on
boarding