[Battle Harbor] Finally, as the wind showed no signs of changing, the captain, to our intense delight, decided to beat around to Battle Harbor and we anchored here at about 5:50 P.M., July 17th.  Many of the icebergs we passed were glorious, and the scene was truly arctic.  It was bitterly cold, and heavy coats were the order of the day.  We passed Cape St. Charles, the proposed terminus of the Labrador Railroad to reduce the time of crossing the Atlantic to four days, saw the famous table-land, and soon opened Battle Harbor which we had to beat up, way round to the northward, to enter.  It was slow business with a strong head current, but the fishermen say a vessel never came around more quickly.  We found the harbor very small, with rocks not shown in chart or coast pilot, and had barely room to come to without going ashore.  We went in under bare poles, and then had too much way on.

The agent for the Bayne, Johnston Co., which runs this place, keeping nearly all its three hundred inhabitants in debt to it, is a Mr. Smith, who has taken the professor and seven or eight of the boys on his little steamer to the other side of the St. Lewis Sound.  The doctor has gone with them to look after some grip patients, and the professor expects to measure some half-breed Eskimo living there.  The boys are expecting to get some fine trout.  The grip was brought to this region by the steamer bringing the first summer fishing colonies, and has spread to all and killed a great many.

There is an Episcopal rector here, Mr. Bull, who says everybody had it.  I believe it is owing to his care and slight medical skill that none have died here.  It is hard for this people to have such a sickness just as the fishing season is best.  The doctor has opportunity to use all and far more than the amount of medicine he brought, much to Professor Lee’s amusement.  He is reaping a small harvest of furs, grateful tokens of his services, that many of his patients send him, and some of his presents have also improved our menu.

This place is named Battle Harbor from the conflict that took place here between the Indians and English settlers, aided by a man-of-war.  The remains of the fight are now in a swamp covered with fishflakes.  There are also some strange epitaphs in the village graveyard, with its painted wooden head-boards, and high fence to keep the dogs out.  These latter are really dangerous, making it necessary to carry a stick if walking alone.  Men have been killed by them, but last year the worst of the lot were exported across the bay, owing to a bold steal of a child by them and its being nearly eaten up.  They are a mixture of Eskimo, Indian and wolf, with great white shaggy coats.

The steamer with mail and passengers from St. John’s, Newfoundland, is expected every day, and as our rivals for the honor of rediscovering Grand Falls are probably on board, there is a race in store for us to see who will get to Rigolette first, and which party will start ahead on the perilous journey up the Grand River.  As they have refused our offer of co-operation, we now feel no sympathy with their task, and will have but little for them till we see them, as we hope, starting up the river several days behind our hardy crew.