Our curiosity as to how our boat was to get up the rapid was soon
satisfied. Along both sides of the boat ran a stout plank, to which were
securely fastened a row of cleats, about two feet apart. The crew
gathered at the bow, each man holding a long pole with an iron point. On
the order being given by the conductor, who held the helm, two men
stepped out and took their place on the planks, one on each side, and
dropped the iron points of their poles into the river, until they struck
bottom. Then, pressing the end they held against their shoulders, pushed
with all their might. As the boat yielded to their thrust, they stepped
backward down their planks, making room for another man in front, until
there were four on each side of the boat, pushing with their utmost
strength. As the men who first got on the planks reached the end, they
jumped aside and made their way to the bow to begin anew the same
operation, of dropping their poles into the water, tucking the head of
them into the hollow of their shoulders, and, leaning forward, push as
they did before, receding step by step, the cleats giving the needed
purchase to their feet. The current was swifter than any millstream, yet
the boat was pushed slowly up until we reached the entrance to a canal,
smaller than that at Lachine, for it was only 2-1/2 feet deep and so
narrow that the crew jumped it when they wished to cross. It served the
purpose, however, of enabling the boat to pass the worst part of the
rapid, where it foamed in great billows. Quitting the canal the swift
current was again met and the setting poles again put into use. Our lads
were eager to try their hands, but a few minutes was enough, their
shoulders being too soft for the work. Those of the crew were calloused
almost like bone, but even to them it was hard work, for the sweat
rolled down their faces, as they struggled along the planks bent double.
On reaching the next rapid, Treffle asked all who could to get out and
walk along the bank, as the boat was drawing too much water. Robbie
wanted to go with us, but grannie clung to him. 'Should the boatie cowp,
who would save him gin I was na at hand?' she asked. To help the crew,
we pulled at a towline until she got to another small canal. As we went
on, we had the excitement of watching boats pass us on their way to
Montreal, shooting the rapids. They were heavily loaded, mostly with
bags of flour, yet ran down the foaming waters safely. To us boys, was
more exciting the passage of rafts, for they splashed the water into
spray. Having overcome that rapid, we all got on board, and the crew had
an easier time in pushing along until we got in sight of a church
perched above a cluster of cottages. The mistress asked Treffle how they
made the passage before the small canals were cut where the rapids were
most dangerous. He explained, that at the first rapid all the freight
was unloaded and conveyed in carts to the landing-place on lake St
Francis, while the empty boats were poled and towed close alongside the
edge of the bank, avoiding the boiling water. In those days the boats
were lighter and sailed in companies, and their crews united to take
them up one by one. The village, the Cedars, was to be the resting-place
of the boatmen until next day, and scattering among the houses, where a
few of them had their families, they left the boat to the passengers.
Treffle led the way to houses where provisions could be bought and at
prices so low that the women wondered. Saying nothing so good to make
men strong, he bought for the mistress a big piece of boiled pork,
which, sliced thin, we enjoyed either with bread or our ship-biscuit. We
watched the baking of bread. It was fired in queer little white
plastered ovens set in front of each house, looking somewhat like
beehives placed on top of strong tables. The ovens are filled with wood,
which is set on fire, and when the oven is hot enough the wood is raked
out, the loaves shoved in, and the door shut. We youngsters gathered
round one on seeing the woman was about to open it. When she drew out
the first loaf, with a fine crust and an appetizing smell, we could not
help giving a cheer, it was so wonderful to us. We went back to the
boat with a lot of food, to which was added fish, bought from a man as
he landed from his canoe, which we fried. That evening we had the best
meal since we left home, and at night had plenty of room to sleep, for
the air being hot a number of us slept beneath the trees. We safely got
past the fourth and last of the rapids, floating out of a little canal
into a large lake. The wind was still in the west, so we had to keep
tacking, and it was afternoon when we passed Cornwall and steered for
the south side of the St Lawrence. Allan was pointing out to Grannie
what was British and what was American; she remarked, on comparing the
houses on the two banks, 'That gin Canadians wad build houses of wood,
they ocht to hae the decency to paint them.' On nearing the
landing-place at the foot of the rapids, Allan pointed to a group of
people and told her they were Yankees. She shook her head, she did not
believe him, they were too like our ain folk to be Yankees. The Soo is
the longest rapid of the St Lawrence measuring nine miles, but is not
nearly so wild as those we had passed, having fewer waves and intervals
of smooth water. There was no canal to help in getting to the head of
it, and it was beyond the strength of our crew to push the boat up with
setting-poles. There was a towpath along the U.S. bank on which stood
three yoke of oxen. A stout cable was hooked to their whiffle-tree and
they started. On getting fairly into the strength of the current the
crew dropped their poles into the water, and it was all men and oxen,
strained to the utmost, could do at times to stem the sweep of the
mighty tide. It was slow work but we won to smoother water and the boat
tied up for the night. It was hot when we entered lake St Francis, it
was sultry now. Alongside us was a Durham boat like ours, but longer. It
was packed worse than our own, men, women, and children huddled as close
as captives on a slaveship, and like ourselves worn out with fatigue and
facing the thunderstorm that we heard coming without covering of any
kind. The quiet determination to endure much in the belief that we were
coming to a country where we would better our condition sustained all in
doing our best to make light of our trials. To a young woman, who was
trying to get a fretful baby to sleep, the mistress sent me with a tin
of milk and we had some talk. I asked if she was not sorry she had left
the Old Land. 'No, no,' she replied, 'we had no prospect there; here,
with hard work we have the prospect of comfort and of depending on
nobody for work or help.' She kissed her babe and speaking to him said,
'Yes, Willie, you will never know in this country what your mother came
through.' It was this hope that sustained us all. There was only a small
house in sight and the near bush was scrub, so we did not ask to go on
shore and had to wait, patiently, for the heat and mosquitoes kept us
awake. The storm did not last long, but wetted all to the skin who could
not creep under the decked parts of the boat. It brought great relief in
freshening the air. The boatmen were astir before daylight, hoisting the
sails, for the wind had turned to the north, as it often does after a
thunderstorm. There were places, where the current ran so fast that
setting-poles had to be used, but we got on well, and, by-and-by,
sighted two towns--Ogdensburg and Prescott, the one bright and tidy, the
other with a weather-beaten uninviting look. We rejoiced to see a small
steamboat at the Prescott wharf. It was waiting for the stage from
Montreal. A bargain was made to take our party to Kingston. On the boat
we had met at the Soo coming in, she had too many emigrants for the
steamer to take on board, but her captain agreed to tow her. The offer
was made to let any of the women change boats, but none accepted. Like
ourselves, they were travelling in families and feared to be parted. We
were real sorry in bidding good-by to the crew of the Durham boat, for
they had been kind and made companions of the children. As one wee tot
came up to her special favorite, she pursed her lips to be kissed; the
Canadian took the pipe out of his mouth and gave the queerest cry of
delight I ever heard. We could not speak to each other, but in the
language of grimace and expression of countenance the French Canadian
excels. The Montreal stage at last appeared, drawn by four horses, and
on its passengers getting settled in the cabin, the steamer began her
voyage. She was not like the steamboats of later days, which are houses
built on hulls. She was just a good-sized barge with an engine and two
paddle-wheels, which sent her along at a slow rate, all the more slowly
on account of her towing the Durham boat. Our party crowded her fore
deck and our baggage, piled on the freight she had when we got on, was
higher than her paddle-boxes. We stopped three times to take on wood
during the passage, reaching Kingston next morning, where we were to get
a steamer for Toronto, but had to wait for her arrival. She was a larger
boat but of the same pattern as the one we left, having her cabins below
deck. There were over a hundred emigrants, and we so crowded the
steerage that we were packed as close as in the Durham boats. The
prospect of being so near our journey's end made us endure discomfort
cheerfully. I remember how the great size of lake Ontario impressed us
all, having an horizon like that of the Atlantic. We had wondered at the
width of the St Lawrence and at where all the water came from to dash
down its rapids, but this great lake surprised us more, with its
sea-gulls and big white painted ships bowling along. Mr Auld remarked
the county of Ayr would be but an island in it, and Mr Brodie that you
might stick Glasgow in a corner and never know it was there were it not
for the reek. Many were the surmises as to how the master had got on, if
he had got land, if he would meet us, and what our next move would be.
The mistress shared in none of their anxiety. She was calm in her
confidence of her husband's ability and energy. She was convinced he had
secured land and that he would be waiting on the wharf when the steamer
sailed into Toronto. They were what every married couple ought to be--of
one mind and one heart. Our first sight of Toronto pleased us all, and
we had a long view of it, sailing round the island before reaching the
entrance to the harbor. Our eyes were strained as we came near the wharf
in the hope of picking out master among the people who crowded it. All
of a sudden Robbie shouted Father, and a man waved his hand, whom, as
the boat drew closer in we all recognized. The sailors were still
hauling the steamer into her berth, when Mr Brodie shouted 'Have you got
land?' Yes, was the reply. 'Thank God!' ejaculated Mr Brodie, and we all
said the same in our hearts; the relief we felt only emigrants, after a
weary journey, to a strange country can know. Pressing round the master,
with Ruth in his arms and Robbie pulling at his coat tails, he said he
had got land, not far from Toronto, and had secured carts to move us
that day to take possession. First of all, he said, we will have dinner.
Here I stopped. It was my youngest daughter who insisted on my telling
How I Came to Canada, and I had consented on condition she would write
down what I said, for I am a poor penman and no speller. Recalling what
had happened in my early life, and I did so generally as I lay in bed in
my wakeful hours, I dictated to Mary as she found leisure. On reading
over what she had written I had only one fault to find with her
work--she had not taken down the Scotch as I had spoken it. She had put
my words, so she said, into proper English. She protested against my
halting in my narrative with the arrival at Toronto, and insisted I go
on and tell of our life in the backwoods. I cannot resist her pretty way
of pleading with me when she wants anything, for she is so like my
sainted mother that I often start at the resemblance. To me, in her
young face and figure my mother lives again. The agreement was to tell
How I Came to Canada. To that I now add, How we Got On in its Backwoods.
HOW WE GOT ON IN THE BACKWOODS