There were 43 passengers. There were two families besides our own, and
outside of them were a number of young men, plowmen and shepherds,
intent on getting land and sending for their people to join them the
next spring. There was an exception in a middle-aged man, brisk and
spruce, who held himself to be above his fellow-passengers, and said
nothing about where he came from or who he was. The only information he
gave was, that he had been in the mercantile line, and that he was to be
addressed as Mr Snellgrove. He waved his right hand in conversation and
spoke in a lofty way, which to Allan and myself was funny. When he had
got his sealegs and his appetite, he began lecturing the passengers as
to what they ought to do, enlarging on organizing a committee, of which
he was to be head. I think I see him, strutting up and down the deck by
the side of the captain with whom it gratified him to walk. The only
other passenger besides him who was not connected with farming was Mr
Kerr, to whom I became much attached. He was well-informed on subjects
I had heard of but knew nothing, and we talked by the hour. His
companionship was to me an intellectual awakening. Among his purchases
in Troon was material for a suit of clothes, which he made during the
voyage, for he was a tailor. He had left Greenock in such haste that he
had not time to go to his lodging for any of his belongings. Mr
Snellgrove affected to despise him both for his trade and his political
principles, and never missed an opportunity to sneer at him; Mr Kerr
never replied.
Day followed day without relieving the monotony. At times we would get a
glimpse of the topsails of a ship gliding along the horizon, but usually
the ocean seemed to have no other tenant than our own stout brig. One
afternoon the cook rushed out of his den with the shout 'There she
spouts!' and looking where he pointed we saw a whale cleaving the waves.
We were in our third week out when we ran into a fog. The wind fell and
the brig rolled in the swell, causing her tackle to rattle and sails to
flap as if they would split. The second day the fog was thicker, and the
ocean smooth as glass. For fear of collision with another ship, the
lookout man kept blowing a horn which had a most dismal sound. The
captain and mate tried to get the sun at noon but could not find the
faintest trace. After dinner a gull flew past, which made the cook say
he smelt danger. A few were below but the most of us were on deck when a
slight bump was felt and then another. The rattling in the rigging
stopped and the ocean swell broke on our stern. The mate started to the
companion scuttle and shouted to the captain, that the ship was
grounded. In a minute he appeared, his face white and twisted with
anguish. His anxiety was not alone for the passengers and crew but for
himself. He was owner of the brig and if she was wrecked he was ruined.
The mate was casting the lead and when he shouted 'We are on a sandbank'
there was a sigh of relief deepened by the carpenter's report that the
ship was not making water. Grannie, who had managed to creep up the
ladder from the deserted hold, remarked 'We are sooner in Canada than I
expectit.' Her exclamation brought the reaction from our dread and we
burst into laughter. 'It is not Quebec,' shouted Allan in her ear, 'we
are aground.' 'A weel,' she replied, 'I will cling to the rock o' my
salvation.'
The order was given to get ready the boats. There were two, the yawl
that had been hauled on top of the house on deck, and lay keel up. Oars
were mislaid and on hanging her to the davits it was noticed in time
there was no plug in the hole for drainage. The other boat, which was
our reliance, was the long boat abaft the foremast. Its cover was torn
off and we saw it was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that had
been stowed there to be out of the way. These were pitched aside by
willing hands and the tackle had been fastened to hoist her overboard,
when there was a shout from the fog of Ahoy. We saw a man in yellow oil
skins rowing towards us. Jumping on board, he asked 'What is keeping
you here?' 'You tell us,' replied the captain, who was overjoyed to see
him. The fisherman said we had been drifted by the current towards
Newfoundland, and had the ship not grounded she would in a few hours,
have been dashed against the cliffs that line the shore and every soul
been lost. It was the most wonderful escape he had ever known.
'How are we to get off?' asked the captain. 'You will float off when the
tide makes.' 'And then what will we do if there is no wind?' 'You will
go on the cliffs, but there will be a capful of wind at ebb tide.' The
captain had sent for his chart, and the fisherman pointed out where the
brig stood. He said if a breeze did not come in time for her to make a
slant southwards we were to take to the boats and row to the cove which
he covered with his thumb. 'If you can get your anchor over the side, it
may help you,' he added.
He and his comrades were out catching bait. He heard our horn and then
saw our lump of a brig loom through the fog. We were sorry to see him
leave and row off to his schooner, of which he had the bearings. To
hoist the anchor from where it had been stowed when we lost sight of
Tory island and bitt it to the chain was tedious work but it was begun.
We waited hopefully for the tide and, sure enough, it lifted us gently.
On feeling we were afloat once more we gave a cheer. Soon after a faint
breath of air was felt, the ship got steerage way, and we slowly hauled
off the dreaded coast. The breeze cleared the fog and in the rays of
the setting sun we saw the cliffs against which we might have been
shivered and the fishing-boats to which our friend belonged.
On gathering in the hold our talk was of our escape. The master said it
was proof to him God was with us; we thought we were lost when we
grounded, yet that sandbank was what had saved us. Just then Mr
Snellgrove came down the ladder. 'I have just bade the captain good
night,' he said, 'and I am authorized by him to inform you all danger is
past. Had an executive committee been appointed the moment the vessel
struck matters would have gone on with less confusion. We are safe,
however, notwithstanding we have a Jonah on board.'
Mr Kerr who was, like all of us, excited by the accident, asked, 'You
mean me?'
Yes, you are a fugitive from the justice which would have punished you
as you deserve for sedition. The world has come to a strange pass when
tailors would dictate to the Powers ordained by God how the realm is to
be governed. For one I am loyal to my King and his advisers in all they
ordain. England's glorious bulwark is her throne and the nobility who
surround it.'
The little man stood on the lower rungs of the ladder, in front of the
lantern that swung from a beam, so I saw him clearly. To our surprise Mr
Kerr came forward and spoke slowly and quietly. 'I do not wish you, my
fellow passengers, to look upon me any longer as a fugitive from
justice, and will explain how it comes that circumstances give color to
the charge. I have a brother, older than myself and father of a large
family. One day in April, a clerk in the sheriff's office, who is a
cousin, came to me at night to tell me that a spy who had attended a
meeting of the Liberal club, had laid an information that my brother had
spoken disrespectfully of the King, George the Fourth, and his advisers.
On the strength of this, a warrant was prepared for his arrest on the
charge of sedition. The spy had made a mistake in the first name and had
given mine instead of my brother's. My cousin said, if I would disappear
the prosecution would be baffled. To save my brother, for a prosecution
would ruin him, I fled at once, going to Troon, where I knew a ship was
ready to sail for Canada. On the officers going to my lodging to arrest
me, they found I had gone. How they came to know I had gone to Troon I
cannot say. Probably they sent word to all ports where ships were ready
to sail. As you know, I was arrested on board this boat and discharged,
because the magistrate had no authority to hold me. It was to save my
brother that I am here. What he said at the club I do not know, for I
was not there.'
'A plausible story,' said Mr Snellgrove, 'but you told a lie when you
answered to a false name before the Troon magistrate.'
'I told no lie,' answered Mr Kerr in a calm voice, 'for I was not asked
to plead, but I knew I could have saved myself and have sent my brother
to jail by correcting the mistake of the spy.'
Mr Snellgrove was about to say more when a murmur of disapproval caused
him to slink to his berth. My master came forward and taking Mr Kerr by
the hand said, 'I respected you before; I honor you now,' and all, men
and women, pressed to shake his hand.
After breakfast next morning there was much talk over our escape from
death, and the more light thrown on it in discussion the stronger grew
the feeling that we had been saved by the interposition of Providence.
Had the brig not struck the sandbank and done so at low tide, not a soul
would have reached land, and relatives would never have known what
became of the Heatherbell unless part of her wreckage was picked up.
There ought to be public acknowledgment of our rescue and expression of
our united thanks. The captain agreed it would be right, so, that
afternoon, all hands assembled, except Mr Snellgrove, who sat at the bow
pretending to read a book. The impression made on me, by the sight of
the sailors joining in the psalms and the children gathering round their
mothers' skirts in wonder, has survived these fifty-five years. The
master at the request of the captain, took charge. He read the story of
Paul's shipwreck and then prayed with a fervor that made me cry. To the
surprise of all, he asked Mr Kerr to improve the occasion. He began by
saying it was not for mortals to judge the ways of God, to complain of
visitations or to condemn acts that are inscrutable, but it was the
bounden duty of man, when good did befall him, to ascribe the praise to
God. They had a marvellous escape from a cruel death, and without
inquiring into the how or wherefore it was our part to acknowledge the
hand that saved us. After a good deal more in that strain of thought he
changed to the purpose of our voyage. We were crossing the ocean to
escape conditions in the Old Land that had become a burden to us,
hoping, in the New Land before us, there would be brighter surroundings.
To preserve that New Land from the mistakes and evils that blast the Old
was a duty. To try and reproduce another Scotland such as they had left
would be to reproduce what we were leaving it for. What we ought to try
is to create a new Great Britain in Canada, retaining all that is good
and dropping all that is undesirable. I want, he said, to see a land
where every man is free to secure a portion of God's footstool and to
enjoy the fruits he reaps from it, without an aristocracy taking toll of
what they did not earn, and a government levying taxes on labor to
support soldiers or to subsidize privileged classes of any kind whatever
their pretences.
How much more the speaker would have said I do not know, for Mr
Snellgrove, who had come forward on his beginning to speak, here shouted
'Treason!' The master to prevent a scene, for a young shepherd moved to
catch hold of the offender, gave out the 100th psalm, and we closed in
peace.
The hold was so dark that Mr Kerr could not see to sew, so on fine days
he worked on deck. Sitting beside him he taught me how to hold a needle,
for he said every man should be able to make small repairs. He advised
me to seize every opportunity to learn. When a boy he could have learned
to speak Gaelic and regretted he had let the chance go by. Should he get
work in Montreal, he would study French. A man's intellect grows by
learning whatever accident throws in his way, and the man who, from
foolish conceit, refuses to take advantage of his opportunities remains
a dolt. Read and observe, he said, and you will be able to say and do
when your fellows are helpless. He got cuttings of canvas from the
bosun, shaped them into a blouse, and got me to sew them together. The
other boys laughed at me, and called me the wee tailor, but the blouse
did me good service for many a day. While so much with him, I asked Mr
Kerr about his political trouble. Though a Liberal he belonged to no
club and was against using other than constitutional means to bring
about reforms, and these reforms must come. It could not continue that
Great Britain was to be ruled by a parliament composed of aristocrats
and their creatures, for the great mass of the people had no voice in
it. No Methodist, Baptist, or other dissenter was allowed a seat in
parliament, and there were noblemen who controlled the election of more
members than the city of Glasgow. Manchester and Birmingham have no
members. Half of Scotland is owned by a dozen aristocrats. Whenever you
hear men shout disloyalty and claim to be the only true-blue supporters
of their country, you may be sure they are selfishly trying to hold some
privilege to which they have no right. He told of many of his
acquaintances who had been prosecuted for petitioning for the mending
of political grievances, of a few who had been ruined by imprisonment
and law costs, of the men who had been banished to Australia, and the
three men who had been hanged. Hundreds had fled, like himself, to
escape prosecution.
After our misadventure off Newfoundland our voyage was prosperous.
Coming on deck one sunny morning we saw land, which was Cape Ray, and
before the sun set we were in the Gulf of St Lawrence. We were not alone
now, for every few hours we sighted ships. They were part of the Spring
fleet to Quebec, now on their voyage home with cargoes of timber. One
passed us so close that the captains spoke, and when the homeward
captain shouted he was for the Clyde there were passengers who wished
they were on board her, and the tear came to their eyes when they
thought of Scotland and of those who were there. The Bird Rocks were
quite a sight to us, but the Ayrshire folk held they were not to be
compared with Ailsa Craig. On the Gulf narrowing until we could see land
on both sides, a white yacht bore down to us and sent aboard a pilot. He
was a short man, with grizzled hair. Being the first Frenchman we had
seen, we gathered round him with curiosity and listened to his broken
English with pleasure, for the tone was kindly and he was so polite,
even to us boys. He brought no very late news, for he had left Quebec
ten days before, when the weather was so hot that laborers loading ships
dropped in the coves from sunstroke. Each tack that brought the brig
higher up the river changed the scenery, a range of forest-clad trees on
the north bank, and on the south bank a row of whitewashed cottages, so
closely set that they looked as if they lined a street, broken at
intervals by the tin-covered roof and steeple of a church. There were
discussions among our farmers as to the narrowness of the fields and
what kind of crops were on them, for they looked patchy and were of
different colors, which the pilot was generally called on to decide, and
it was funny to watch his difficulty in understanding their broad
Scottish speech. Reaching where the ebb tide was stronger than the
breeze, anchor was dropped for the first time. Before the tide turned,
the pilot cried to dip up water, and there was a shout of delight when
we tasted it and found the buckets were filled with fresh water. Wasn't
there a big washing that day! As much splashing as the porpoises made
who gambolled at a distance. Cool, northerly breezes helped us on our
way, and exactly five weeks from the day we left Troon we came to anchor
off Cape Diamond, which disappointed us, for we looked for a higher rock
and a bigger fort. On the ship mooring, the pilot sat down, and in a
frenzy of delight at his success in bringing her up safely, flourished
his arms and chuckled in his own language. Darting from a wharf came a
fine rowboat with four oarsmen, and an official in blue with gilt
buttons holding the helm. We were so engrossed in watching it, that we
did not notice Mr Snellgrove had joined us, decked out grandly in
finest clothes. Before the captain could say a word to the
customs-officer, Mr Snellgrove asked him whether the governor-general
was at his residence, and on being told he was, said he would accompany
his majesty's official on shore, and, so saying stepped on the boat and
seated himself in silent dignity in the stern, turning his back to us
who were looking on. The officer's visit was brief; the boat pushed off
and we had our last look of Mr Snellgrove, transformed from a
steerage-passenger into a dandy expecting to mix with the grandees of
Quebec. Next day, in talking with the captain, he told the master
Snellgrove had kept a draper's shop at Maybole, failed for a big sum,
and had come to Canada expecting to get, with the letters of
introduction he had from a number of noblemen, a government situation.
The intention being to weigh anchor on the tide flowing, leave to go on
shore was refused to the passengers. The captain, having to report at
the customs, he, however, took Mr Kerr with him, to get materials for
repairs he was making to the captain's clothes. Mr Kerr caught hold of
me, and I had a hurried look at what appeared to me to be a foreign
town, leaving out the street that ran along the harbor, which seemed to
be lined with taverns frequented by soldiers and sailors. Mr Kerr bought
a fancy basket from a squaw, as a present to the mistress, who had been
kind to him. While we were gone, the ship was visited by boats offering
bread for sale, and willing to take in exchange split peas or oatmeal.
Black lumps were held up as maple sugar. They were so dirty that
curiosity was soon satisfied. The boat that brought us a pilot, went
back with Snellgrove's trunk. On the tide beginning to flow the anchor
was lifted and we were borne upwards, passing the crowd ashore, among
whom were many soldiers. A gun was fired from the citadel and the flag
fluttered down, for it was sunset when we got into the stream.
Everything being new and strange nothing escaped us, and every passenger
was on deck watching. The number of ships surprised all. There were rows
of them for two or three miles, in the midst of fields of the logs which
were to form their cargoes. As I sat beside Mr Kerr in the twilight, he
spoke of the sights I could not help seeing in the street along the
waterfront of Quebec, or hearing the language used. There was evil in
the world of which a man should try to keep ignorant. It was not
knowledge of the world to look into, much less to dabble in its filth. A
lad who kept his thoughts clean was repaid by health and happiness,
while entertaining evil imaginings led to a weak intellect and
discontent with oneself. I had noticed before, when anybody began a
dirty story that Mr Kerr rose and left. Another time he told me, his
constant effort was to think of only pleasant things, to try and relieve
what was disagreeable by looking from a sunny standpoint and to meet
disappointments by searching if there was not some good in them.
On the tide beginning to turn, the anchor was dropped. The tide is felt
as high as Three Rivers and it is possible for a ship to go that far by
floating up with it. The second night after leaving Quebec we were
startled by a loud knocking on the companion of the forecastle and an
imperative shout to tumble up. An east wind had come and every minute
was valuable. The anchor was lifted and sails set, and before the sun
appeared we were sweeping past Three Rivers. Interest was kept up by the
villages and fields we passed, and it was the decision of the farmers
that it was poor land badly worked. More novel to us, was the succession
of rafts we met, each covering acres, with masts and houses on them, and
men along their sides keeping them in midstream by means of long oars.
As we passed up lake St Peter the wind freshened, the clouds came lower
and the rain poured. The captain and pilot were in great glee, for they
told us if the wind held we would pass up the St Mary's current and
anchor off Montreal before dark. Strong as the wind was and with every
sail set that would draw, it was found we could not stem the current
without help, so the ship was brought close to the bank, a rope passed
ashore, and a string of oxen appeared, who helped to draw her into
calmer water. The night was dark and rainy but we kept on deck and
watched the lights of Montreal.
They had not been at sea a week when the three farmers had agreed they
would keep together on reaching Canada and take up land side by side.
They were also of one mind in making Toronto (it was not so named then)
their starting-point in search of new homes. The captain's advice was,
that one of them should take the stage at Montreal; by so doing he would
get to Toronto at least a week ahead of the rest of the party, in which
time he could hunt up land. This would save delay and the expense of
staying in lodging while looking for a place to settle. It was arranged
the master should go. At daylight he got ashore and was in time for the
stage that left for Prescott. We were all up early that morning, eager
to see Montreal. The clouds had gone and the mountain looked fresh and
green. The town consisted of a few rows of buildings along the river.
There being no wharf or dock the ship was hauled as close to the shore
as her draft allowed, and a gangway of long planks on trestles set up.
Nearly every passenger walked over it to say they had set foot on
Canada. A number of the men went into the town to see it. In two hours
one of them was brought back drunk and without a copper in his pockets.
Mr Kerr told me he would stay in Montreal if he got a place. He returned
in the afternoon to tell us he had got work and to take away his few
belongings. He bade all good-bye. On coming to me, I went with him, for
he had asked the mistress that I go with him to see the town. The
narrowness of the streets and the foreign look of the houses with their
high-pitched roofs impressed me less than the muddy roadways, for I had
never thought there could be a town with unpaved streets and no
sidewalks. Mr Kerr, on his way to his boarding-house, showed me the shop
where he was to begin work next morning. While we were in his bedroom a
gong sounded for supper. It was all new to me, the people, their talk,
and the food. I wondered to see meat and potatoes for supper, hot buns,
and apple-pies. After supper we had a walk, and in going along one of
the streets there was a man before us carrying a baby. Raising her head
above his shoulder the child looked at us and said something to him.
Without reflecting, I wondered how a child could have learned French so
early in life. On turning back to the ship Mr Kerr took me into a shop
and bought me a cap, and I had need of one. On coming in front of the
ship, he shook my hands as if he did not want to let me go, and made me
promise I would write him and tell where we had settled. For himself, he
would stay in Montreal at least long enough to get his belongings by
ship from Greenock.
The captain having given notice that everybody must leave the ship next
day, there was early bustling in finishing packing and arranging for the
next stage in our journey, which was to be by a Durham boat to Prescott.
Carts were on hand to haul our luggage to the canal, where lay the boat
that had been hired for our party. A carter hoisted a chest on his
little vehicle and hurriedly drove off. Instead of taking the direction
of the other carts, he went straight up the dump that led into the town.
I shouted to him to stop. He laid his whip on the horse and drove
faster. It flashed on me he was a thief, and I ran after him. I could
never have caught up to him had it not been market day and the street
was crowded with people and carts. I jumped up beside him and pulled at
his collar to make him stop. He tried to push me on to the road, but I
clung to him, when he lashed me with the whip. I shouted for help, but
all being French they did not know what I said, but they saw something
was wrong and with many exclamations the crowd stood staring at us. Just
then a little, stout man, in a black gown, elbowed his way through the
crowd, and asked me in English what was the matter. I told him the
carter had stolen the chest. He spoke to the carter in French. 'The man
denies it,' said the priest, for such I now guessed he was. I hurriedly
narrated what had happened, and for proof pointed to the name painted on
the chest. Speaking with severity to the carter, the fellow turned his
horse towards the river and the priest told me he would take the chest
back to where he got it. 'But he may not do so,' I exclaimed. The priest
gave me a sharp look, as if surprised that I should be ignorant of his
power. 'He dare not disobey me.' I thanked the priest from the bottom of
my heart, and in a few minutes the carter had dumped the chest on the
spot where he had taken it and drove away. On telling the mate what had
happened, he said it was common for emigrants, both at Quebec and
Montreal, to be robbed by fellows who regarded them as fair game.
We followed the cart that took the last of our luggage, forming quite a
procession, and each one of us who was able carried something. I had a
bag in one hand and an iron pot in the other. Grannie held a firm grip
of Robbie, who she feared might be lost in Montreal, for the puir laddie
hadna a word of French. On coming to the canal we were disappointed with
both it and the boat. The canal was a narrow ditch and as to the boat,
it was short and narrow and had no deck, except a few feet at either
end. 'We cannot live in that cockle-shell!' exclaimed Mrs Auld. Her
owner replied 'She was one fine boat, new, built by Yankee.' He was the
only one of the crew who understood English, and was quick in his
motions. He soon had all we brought with us stowed, and when a corner
was found for the last chest, it was a surmise where the crew and
passengers could find standing-room. The decked portions were allotted
the women and children, the men and boys roosted on top of boxes and
bales as they could. When all was ready, the conductor took the helm,
the crew lined up on the bank with a tow-line over their shoulders, and
off we started. The weather was fine and the country we passed
beautiful. At the first locks we came to, the mistress stepped to a
farmhouse beside the canal, and came back with the pail she had taken
with her full of milk. It was the first the children had since we left
Scotland. It was late in the day when the boat got to the end of the
canal; the conductor, who told us to call him Treffle, said we would
wait and have supper before going on the lake. Driftwood was gathered
and fires made, pots and pans being set on stones. The crew fried fat
pork, which, with bread, was their supper. We made porridge, for we had
still a good supply of oatmeal, and of ship-biscuit. The sails were
hoisted and we got away before it was quite dark. The wind was westerly,
so we had to tack. Had it not been that the boat had a centreboard we
would have made small progress. The centreboard was a novelty to us, and
we could see how close it helped the little vessel to sail in the eye of
the wind. The size of the lake surprised everybody and all the more when
Treffle told us it was the St Lawrence. 'My, it is a big river and it is
in a big country!' exclaimed Mrs Auld. Everybody had to sleep as they
best could; some slept sitting, more by leaning against one another,
nobody had room to stretch himself. We were tired and glad to rest in
any way. Mrs Auld said we were like herring in a barrel, packed heads
and thraws. In waking at daylight we heard the sound of water dashing
and roaring, and looking upwards saw the river tumbling downwards in
great waves, which were, for all the world, like those of the Atlantic
in a gale, except that they stayed in the same place. Treffle said these
waves were due to the rushing water striking big rocks in the bed of the
river, over which they kept pouring, and gave the name Cascades to the
rapid. The boat was tied up, as the crew were to have breakfast before
their hard work in making a passage past the rapids. I went with the
mistress to a house that was not far away for milk. A smiling woman met
us at the door and asked us inside; the house was clean and neat. We
tried to make her understand what we wanted but failed until I put the
pail between my knees and imitated milking a cow. She laughed heartily
and by signs made us know she did not have a cow. Stepping to the
fireplace she dipped a tin into a big pot that simmered in a corner and
handed it to the mistress. It was soup. Holding out some money, she made
signs to fill the pail. Having done so she picked out five coppers from
the money offered, and bade good-by with many a smile and nod. The soup
proved to be fine, just one drawback, its flavor of garlic. 'They use no
split peas to make their pea-soup here,' remarked Mrs Auld, 'and it is
an improvement.' 'No, no,' interjected Treffle, 'soup be good because
all time kept boiling; pot by the fire Sunday to Sunday.' The chill in
the morning air made the hot soup grateful.