The Romance of the Early Days Wh

Then they turned me loose with an ancient gasoline
jaunch called Mina W. and an engineer of doubtful
skill, one bleak December morning in 1920.

Perhaps the Committee didn’t know much more
about the proposition than they told me, but if they
knew little, I knew less. However, that first 400-
mile exploring tour during three months of winter,
with its short, dark days, its storms of wind and
blinding snow, travelling amid confusing fogs, tumul-
tuous eddying tidal rapids, and dangerous reefs,
filled in that meagre description with a wealth of
memorable detail and plenty of vivid colouring.
I’ve tried to buck a wild sou’easter in Malaspina
Straits with a “‘hesitating’’ engine and damaged
shaft, the waves going clear over us every time.
I’ve tried to find my way into Secret Cove in pitch
dark without a light to be seen, and with a storm ris-
ing. I have had to walk a loose boom of floating
logs at night with snow on them, in ordinary shoes.
These and many other such experiences gave me a
knowledge of the coast that no book or second-hand
description could afford.

Experience on these trips soon convinced me that
a new gas-boat, comfortable and seaworthy, must
be secured if the missionary (this missionary any-
way) was to keep physically fit, mentally balanced,
and temperamentally sweet. It was a glad day for
me when, in 1922, a fine new boat, built specially for
the mission, was launched at the Vancouver ship-
yard. She was named the Sky Pilot. On August
16th I set out for my home port, Vananda. I had