Thomas Bennett was living near to Cable's dock. There were several
families at the little settlement. Some came from Canada, others were
summer people going home in the fall. Mrs. Bennett and her three
children were going on a visit across the lake. Her people lived at
Cross Village. Her father and mother came with their own boat to take
her with them. I remember so well the morning she left us. We all felt
sorry to see her go. Mr. Bennett was a fond father and kind husband. His
wife and children were everything to him. There were three little girls,
the eldest five, the next three years, and the baby six months.
Preparations were made the evening before for an early start. Father,
mother and I went to the beach to see them off. It was hard for Mr.
Bennett to let them go. He kissed his children many times, then his
wife, and he said, "Isabel, how can I let you go. Come back to the
house, you must not go." She felt very sad, saying, "Yes, Thomas, I know
you will miss us, and I will not stay so long as I was going to. I will
come back in a week." Good-bys were said, little hands waved and the
boat went sailing out over the rippling waves. Mrs. Bennett held the
baby high in her arms for her papa to see, little white handkerchiefs
were fluttered as far as we could see them. Somehow we all felt sad. Mr.
Bennett walked on the shore saying, "Oh, my wife, my children. Why did
I let them go? I shall never see them more." We tried to comfort him,
but we could not. As the darkness came on and the wind blew fiercer our
hearts grew heavy. Mr. Bennett walked all night on the shore and my
father with him. I lay in my bed listening to the sound of the sullen
roar of the sea as the breakers dashed high on the beach. At times it
seemed the waves would never stop their rolling until they swept us
away. They came so near our door once or twice I went to the window to
look out, and nothing but a sheet of white foam could be seen. At times
it was like the sound of distant thunder as the waves broke and washed
about us. All the next day the sky was dark, the waves had a moaning,
sobbing sound that was very sad to hear. We waited two days, then the
messengers came over from Cross Village. Two Indians were sent with a
letter from the Catholic priest telling all he could of the sad
accident.
Early the next morning after the storm some Indians at Cross Village
went to the beach to see if their canoes were all secure. The first
object they saw was the boat of their neighbor drifting along the shore.
No one was to be seen in the boat. They waited until the boat came in
reach so they could pull it out from the breakers that still ran high.
The boat was almost full of water. They took the water out as soon as
possible, and in among the quilts lay little three-year-old Rebecca. She
still breathed, her body was warm. The Indians in their excitement
delayed taking the child to the house, thinking there might be more
bodies washed upon the shore. They carried the child to the good
priest's house and everything that human power could do was done to save
the child, but it was too late, "Baby Rebecca had gone to join the
angels."
Oh the sadness, it was hard. It seemed sometimes Mr. Bennett could not
survive the shock. None of the other bodies were ever recovered. Mrs.
Bennett was a very beautiful woman with a sweet, loving disposition.