entrance, and with that sea the captain did not care to trust his
ship near them. So he ran on to Spear Harbour, just beyond, where
we lay to for the night. The next day I made the following entry
in my diary:

"Early this morning we moved down to Battle Harbour, where Mrs.
Hubbard left us to return home. It was a most dismal time and
place for her to part from her husband, but she was very brave. It
was not yet six o'clock, and we had had no breakfast, when she
stepped into the small boat to go ashore. A cold, drizzling rain
was falling, and the place was in appearance particularly dreary;
no foliage nor green thing to be seen--nothing but rocks, cold and
high and bleak, with here and there patches of snow. They pointed
out to us a little house clinging to the rocks high up. There she
is to stay until the steamer comes to take her home, to spend a
summer of doubts and hopes and misgivings. Poor little woman! It
is so hard for those we leave behind. I stood aside with a big
lump in my throat as they said their farewell." Up there in the
dark wilderness for which we were bound Hubbard talked with me
frequently of that parting.

On July 6th, the day after we left Battle Harbour, the captain
informed us for the first time that the boat would not go to
Rigolet on the way up, and gave us the option of getting off at
Indian Harbour at the entrance to Hamilton Inlet or going on to
Nain with him and getting off at Rigolet on the way back. Hubbard
chose the former alternative, hearing which the customs officer
came to us and hinted that nothing could be landed until we had had
an interview with him. The result of the interview was that
Hubbard paid duty on our entire outfit.