Extracts from a Journal of a Voyage of Visitation in the "Hawk," 1859

In Short

This volume is a collection of journal entries documenting a pastoral voyage undertaken by the Bishop of Newfoundland in 1859. Sailing aboard the Hawk, the author visits scattered outports and coves to provide baptism, communion, and marriage services to settlers who have rarely—if ever—seen a clergyman. The book acts as a primary historical document, capturing the intersection of extreme physical isolation, frontier survival, and the persistent, often desperate desire of the inhabitants for spiritual connection and institutional recognition in a vast, unforgiving landscape.

The Story

The narrative begins with a clear mission: the Bishop of Newfoundland, having ceased formal reporting for some years, decides to detail a summer visitation to the northern coasts. His goal is to reach the "livers"—the isolated families who occupy remote coves and inlets—to address what he terms "religious destitution." Throughout the summer, the Hawk moves from one harbour to the next, often delayed by adverse winds, thick fog, or the simple challenge of locating families who have moved to fishing grounds.

Upon arriving at each destination, the pattern is consistently demanding. The Bishop sends out scouts to find the residents, who are often startled but welcoming. He describes the material reality of these lives: families living in extreme seclusion, children growing up without formal education, and adults who have improvised their own religious rites. These improvisations—such as neighbors baptizing one another’s children or couples marrying themselves without benefit of clergy—are met by the Bishop with both shock and deep empathy. He works to "rectify" these irregular unions and baptisms, often spending hours instructing parents or sponsors in the basics of the Anglican liturgy.

The arc of the voyage is marked by the tension between the vast, wild scenery and the small, human-centered mission of the crew. The Bishop reports on the abundance of salmon and cod, the presence of French vessels, and the frequent, biting annoyance of mosquitoes. As he moves southward toward the Bay of Islands, the narrative deepens, focusing on the social complexities of the settlements. He encounters men who have abandoned wives in other towns and women who have become local spiritual leaders in the absence of a resident priest. He does not shy away from the moral failures he discovers, yet he maintains a tone of persistent, quiet service.

By the time the Hawk returns to St. John’s in the autumn, the scope of the mission is revealed in the final statistical tables. The Bishop has visited forty-eight different locations, conducted dozens of baptisms, performed numerous marriages, and consecrated over a dozen cemeteries. The journey concludes not with a grand transformation of the region, but with the record of a sustained, grueling, and methodical effort to link these forgotten, solitary outposts to a broader religious community. The final entries emphasize that while the physical conditions of the trip were difficult, the work of bringing order to these lives was, to him, the essential, if quiet, duty of his office.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The journey starts with the Hawk pushing into White Bay, where the Bishop encounters families who have lived for months in near-total seclusion. He immediately begins the process of inviting these settlers to services, navigating both the physical dangers of the coast and the complete lack of formal religious precedent among the local inhabitants.

The work of visitation As the ship moves between coves, the Bishop documents the repetitive, often taxing labor of holding services on deck. He struggles against unpredictable weather, which frequently forces the ship to remain anchored for days, and uses these pauses to provide counsel, baptism, and marriage to the gathered residents.

The social complications In the middle sections, the narrative turns toward the complex domestic lives of the settlers, including accounts of bigamy and the breakdown of traditional social structures. The Bishop attempts to resolve these irregularities with a mixture of rigid ecclesiastical expectation and genuine, compassionate concern for the people’s spiritual welfare.

The conclusion of the mission The final movement sees the Hawk completing its southern circuit, concluding the season's work as the weather turns colder. The narrative ends with a comprehensive statistical summary that transforms the personal, anecdotal experiences of the summer into a formal ledger of service and administrative duty.

The People

The central figure is the Bishop himself, a man who acts as both a spiritual authority and a pragmatic, weary traveler. He is characterized by his patience and a persistent sense of duty; he views the "destitution" of his flock not as a moral failing of the people, but as a crisis of access. He is deeply committed to the Anglican tradition, yet he is frequently moved by the raw, untutored sincerity of the people he encounters.

Opposite him are the "livers"—the fishermen, their wives, and their children. These figures are defined by their resilience and their isolation. Joseph Osmond, for instance, appears as a man of great self-sufficiency, capable of surviving the harsh winters and the "wild and lonely life," yet he remains hungry for the religious rites he cannot provide for himself. These people are not depicted as simple or unthinking; rather, they are shown as individuals struggling to maintain their humanity and social identity while separated from the structures of civilization. Their interaction with the Bishop reveals their desire for a connection that bridges the gap between their isolated, physical existence and the larger world they only occasionally touch.

In Its Own Voice

The appearance of these people was not so wild as might be expected from their wild and lonely life.

(Describing the initial meeting with a family living in a remote, cliff-bound harbour.)

It was strange to see grown-up people directed how and where to find the places in their Prayer-books.

(Reflecting on the challenges of introducing formal liturgy to a community that has had no previous access to church services.)

There was never a thee, or a thou, passed between them.

(Noting the surprisingly peaceful, if religiously separate, coexistence between Protestant settlers and their Roman Catholic neighbors.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book investigates the tension between institutional order and human survival in a frontier environment. It asks how communal identity is maintained when the standard pillars of society—the church, the school, and the law—are absent. The Bishop is not merely counting converts; he is documenting the human cost of isolation and the profound, persistent human need for ritual. The text functions as a meditation on the difficulty of sustaining a civilization at the margins. It explores whether the trappings of faith can endure in a place where the primary focus is, out of necessity, the capture of cod and the gathering of wood.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in Canadian history, maritime culture, or the social history of the 19th-century church will find this an invaluable, ground-level account. The writing is precise and observational, offering a rare, unembellished look at the reality of life in Newfoundland’s outports. There is a distinct, quiet beauty in the Bishop’s descriptions of the landscape—the "reaches and tickles" of the bays and the "lofty and precipitous hills"—that remains vivid and affecting.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the Bishop’s specific, mid-Victorian worldview. He writes from a position of institutional privilege and carries the period's inherent assumptions about "civilizing" the remote. He is sometimes judgmental toward the improvisational, non-conformist practices he encounters, viewing them as "confusion worse confounded." The book is also a slow, methodical read; it mimics the pace of the Hawk itself, often delayed by the wind and the slow work of human connection. It is not a fast-moving narrative, but rather a slow, immersive experience that requires the reader to sit with the Bishop in his cabin, waiting for the weather to clear, and observing the quiet, profound struggle of people trying to find meaning in a vast, silent wilderness.