There's a fine tidy harbor in there, and we'd be findin' some
schooners anchored there now."
"We'll go in and see."
"I think 'twould be well and meet some of the fleet. There's liviyeres
in there too. There's some liviyeres handy to most of the harbors on
the coast."
"Liveyeres? What are liveyeres?"
"They're the folk that live on the coast all the time,--the whites and
half-breeds. Newfoundlanders only come to fish in summer, but
liveyeres stay the winter. The shop keepers we calls planters. They're
set up by traders that has fishin' places. The liveyeres has their
homes up the heads of bays in winter, and when the ice fastens over
they trap fur. In the summer they come out to the islands to fish."
Doctor Grenfell had heard all this before, but now as he looked at the
dreary desolation of the rocks it seemed almost incredible that
children could be born and grow to manhood and womanhood and live
their lives here, forever fighting for mere existence, and die at last
without ever once knowing the comforts that we who live in kindlier
warmer lands enjoy.
Presently a beautiful and splendid harbor opened before the _Albert_.
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