Free The Beothuk Expedition by Derek Yetman

our poor chaplain was near frightened out of his wits by a noise from one of the casks on deck. I ordered it opened and discovered the midshipman of the Liverpool hidden there. This is in clear violation of my order that only our own people be permitted on board. I confronted the man, who is plainly very ill, and demanded to know who had brought him to the Dove . He was scarcely sensible but was able to lie well enough, saying he had stowed himself away in hopes of rejoining his ship. I did not believe him for a moment, given his state of extreme weakness. But I am now in the maddening position of either denouncing him for a liar or accepting what he says. Of course, I cannot accuse him of untruths when I have no evidence to the contrary. All the same, I suspect our Mr. Squibb of having had a hand in it, and likely the warrant officers as well.
    To add to my frustration, I find that I cannot rid myself of this unwanted stowaway. On our approach to Joe Batt’s Arm we espied three topsails on the horizon, bearing east off Shoal Bay. These were surely the sails of our frigates Tweed , Lark and Liverpool , whose bows we would have crossed had we arrived an hour sooner. I was further impeded in ridding myself of the sickly boy when, on entering the arm, we discovered an outbreak of spotted fever amongst the inhabitants. I would have put him ashore except I had no desire to expose my crew to the affliction.
    That the place should be infected is no surprise to me. The harbour is a cesspool of waste from the fishery and the brigs that are anchored there. Even the rats line the gunwales in hopes of deserting for something better. No doubt in winter the place returns to its natural state, when the harbour is abandoned and the tide and weather cleanse the land and water. But for now I kept our distance and hailed the boats for news of John Cousens.
    The replies that were thrown back at me were a shock to my ears. I may only imagine their effect upon the sensibilities of one so delicate as Reverend Stow. These are plainly the drunkest, roughest collection of blasphemers this side of Christendom, and their captains are no better. One of them even threw a bottle at my head when I addressed him, and but for the pitch of our vessels it might have caused me a grievous injury. Mr. Bolger offered to put a ball across the deck of this festering scow, and while the prospect was attractive, I would have none of it. For now the spotted fever prevents my ordering an immediate arrest, but the lout will know my justice at another time.
    The only information I have been able to obtain is that Cousens is at either Toulinguet or Fogo Harbour. I have ordered Lieutenant Squibb to set a course for the latter place at once. I am grateful for an excuse to quit this foul inlet, which to my mind is typical of the entire northern district. It has become a wild and lawless place since the last war, with nothing of the order and religion that should mark an outpost of England.
    Of course, this state of affairs suits many of the merchants who operate here, for it allows them to do as they wish without regard for the law. I fear that this stew of anarchy breeds notions against the Red Indians as well. Those involved in trade will naturally seek to protect their interests, while their ignorant servants believe they must kill the savages or be killed themselves. Captain Palliser has put his faith in my ability to strike a truce. I have no doubt that I shall prevail, for truth and justice are always on the side of the righteous. I am therefore determined to capture an emissary of these people, to whom we may demonstrate our good intentions. And find one we shall, so that they may know the compassion of our Sovereign King.

Jonah Squibb
    Joe Batt’s Arm had little to recommend it, aside from its proximity to the fishing grounds. Named by Captain Cook for a relative of his wife, it was a narrow inlet with a great many rocks that soon impeded our progress. With