e side or the other, the
Government having asked us to remain and see things settled. While
each side was fencing for an advantage, a good-sized schooner sailed
into the harbour, brought up alongside the steamer, and was seen to
begin unloading dry fish. A dash was made for her by the boats as
before; only this time it was the attack of Lilliputians on Gulliver.
We on the shore could not help laughing heartily when shortly we saw a
string of over a dozen fishing boats harnessed tandem in one long line
towing the interloper--as they had the blackleg--away up the inlet
where they moored and guarded her. It appeared that the buyer had sent
her to a far-off anchorage, and unknown to the strikers had had fish
put into her there. The steamer might have followed and got away with
the ruse. But the skipper underestimated the enemy, always a fatal
mistake, and lost out.

The agreement made a day or so later was perfectly peaceful, and
perfectly satisfactory to both sides, for the fish turned out a good
price, and the buyer did not lose anything on the transaction but the
demurrage on his steamer and a little kudos, which I must confess he
took in very good spirit. Even if he did have a grasping side to his
character, he was fortunate in possessing a sense of humour also.

The fall brought yet another call to go South to St. John's, and once
more in the little Strathcona we ploughed our way through the long
miles to the southward. This time it was for the reorganization of the
Institute government, to form a council and to install the new
manager from England. This was Mr. Walter Jones, a man whose wide
experience among naval "Jackies" had been gained in a large institute
of much the same kind. This gave him the credentials which we needed,
for he had made it not only a social but an economic success. He has
been much sought by the various churches in St. John's as a speaker to
men, and his Sunday evening lantern services and lectures at the
Institute are a real source of uplift and help to men of every
religious denomination.

The fall of the year was very busy. Dr. Seymour Armstrong, formerly
surgical registrar at the Charing Cross Hospital in London, an able
surgeon, and a man of independent means, joined me for that winter at
St. Anthony. He had already wintered twice at our Labrador hospitals,
and was fully expecting to give us much further help, but two years
later the great war found him at the front, where he gladly la