The steamer was at the dock. Good-byes were said. Charley was gone. The
boat steamed away, taking the first one from the home nest. It was hard
for mother to give up her boy, but she felt it was best for him. Oh, how
long the time seemed to me! No more could we wander about together. Our
little canoe lay idle upon the beach. There was no little brother to
help row the boat, or swing in the old swing from the big maple tree, or
chase the plovers along the shore. Our little pet dog was always
searching about for Charley. His bows and arrows were put away out of
sight. The house seemed still; it was as if some one lay dead. John felt
just as sad as any of us. Our neighbors came to cheer us, telling us we
should meet again when the spring time came.
Mother still was busy getting the rest of us ready to go. Mr. Crane was
our neighbor. He came from the headlands near Fairport, Ohio. His
daughter Elizabeth came with him and her brother to be their
housekeeper. They owned a farm in Ohio. They were a large family and
money could be earned easily at the island as the fish were so plenty.
They came with several other Ohio families. Mr. Crane was coming back
next season and I could return with them. Nearly all our summer people
were gone. We had just two left and they were going on the last boat.
The Mormons were now taking boats and nets every chance they got and the
Gentiles felt very unsafe. Our two Mormon friends told our people there
was great trouble among them in the Church, as Strang's laws were
becoming unbearable.
The weather had changed and snow and ice were now with us, and brother
Anthony had gone to Green Bay to his uncle John Gebeau. In another week
brother Lewis and I would be gone. How often I said to John, "Now you
will be good to father and mother, won't you? for they will have no one
but you, and you will read to them and tell them about Ireland and your
old home."
John promised all and mother told me afterward she never could have
lived through the winter only that John was so kind. He read them
stories, and being a good singer, he sang his old native songs of
Ireland. All was ready. Our trunks were packed. Mr. Crane's goods were
on the dock. Fishing had been good and those who had not had their nets
stolen were going home with money. There were about twenty families of
the Gentiles to remain all winter at the settlement at Cable's dock. The
rest went to their winter homes.
I was busy bidding my little playmates farewell, as the boat was
expected every hour. At last the steamer was beside the dock. Elizabeth
Crane had packed my trunk, as mother could not do it. I had my dolls
packed and then took them out, saying to mother, "I will leave my dolls
so you can see them and you won't be so lonesome." When she could speak
she said, "Yes, leave the dolls. When I look at them I shall think you
are near." So the dolls were left in their little beds covered up with
their sheets and quilts just as I always put them to sleep. We all ate
our dinner together. It was a sad, silent meal. Mr. Crane and Elizabeth
were charged over and over again to take good care of me if I should be
sick. They promised to do all they could for me. Mr. Crane said. "I
shall take care of your child as if she were my own." I said to John.
"Now who will go to England, Ireland and Scotland with you these long
winter evenings?" He said, "I guess I will have to take your father and
mother with me as you children will all be gone." "Well John, be sure
you take little dog Prince and all the dolls. Don't leave them here
alone." The whistle blew, good-byes were said, mother caught me in her
arms with one last long kiss and "God bless you, my child." Mr. Crane
and Elizabeth with brother hurried to the boat, John and father coming
as the captain shouted "all aboard." Father kissed me, saying, "Be a
good girl, come home in the spring and God bless you."