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The voyage of the
"Alexander" across the ocean was comparatively uneventful. The weather was
fine, no serious storm was experiencd, and the good ship made her way
slowly it is true but comfortably towards her destination. There were no
mishaps of consequence to be recorded, no sickness to cause alarm, and
only one death occurred, that of a little child whose frail form was
committed to the deep in the presence of its bereaved mother. Doctor
MacDonald was busy among the passengers, and thanks to his skill and
devotedness, the usual epidemics experienced on immigrant ships were
happily avoided.
Father James, too, helped
by his presence to keep order amongst the passengers, and though the ship
was greatly crowded good cheer constantly prevailed, and a spirit of
kindly fellowship went a long way towards beguiling the tedium of the
voyage. After six weeks on the water, and well up towards the end of June,
one clear morning something like a blue cloud, lying low on the horizon
was descried from the deck of the vessel, and soon the inimitable coast
line of far famed Abegwit sprang forth from the haze that enveloped it, as
if eager to meet them half way. There were some who gazed on it in
absolute silence, rendered mute by the depth of their feelings, whilst
others, their eyes streaming with tears, thanked God, whose guiding hand
had led them safely through the dangers of the ocean voyage. There lying
in full view was the land of their adoption, henceforth the scene of all
their hopes and aspirations. There it lay with its primeval forest
stretching down to the waters edge, mingling the green of the spruce with
the red of the native clay in pictures formed by the glorious sunlight in
the limpid waters of the surrounding sea.
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT'S
FAREWELL
Fareweel, fareweel my native
hame,
Thy lonely glens and heath-clad mountains,
Fareweel thy fields of storied fame,
Thy leafy shows and sparkling fountains;
No more I'll climb the Pentland's steep,
Nor wander by the Esk's clear river,
I seek a home far o'er the deep
My native land, Fareweel forever.
Thou land wi' love and freedom crown'd,
In ilk wee cot and lordly dwelling
May manly hearted youth be found,
And maids in every grace excelling;
The land where Bruce and Wallace wight,
For freedom fought in days of danger,
Ne'er crouched to Proud usurper's might
But foremost stood, wrong's stern avenger.
Tho far from thee, my native shore
And toss'd on life's tempestuous ocean
My heart, aye Scottish to the core,
Shall cling to thee with warm devotion,
And while the waving heather grows,
And onward rolls the winding river,
The toast be "Scotlands broomy Knowes
Her mountains, rocks, and glens forever."
Hume.
(You Have Gone From Us
Forever)
A Hebridean Farewell
Where wide Atlantic's long
reverberant wave,
Breaking among the slumbrous Hebrides,
By many a low green wave, -
Though Love shall cling to many a haunted shore
While ye go faring o'er the dark'ning seas,
Ye shall return no more.
Yet, whether the deserts
stretch around,
Or through dull cities, go your wandering feet,
How shall that sleepless sound
Which filled your nights and days since ye were born
Upon the door of dreams through darkness beat,
And wake your hearts forlorn !
Or, in the shadows of life's passing days,
Or when the stars are dim with weeping rain,
Once more the misty bays
Shall rise to your remembrance, wide and lone, -
You'll see the peat-smoke windward drift again,
And hear the grey seas moan.
Westward the breezes bear you from our sight,
Beyond the dark horizons sinking slow,
Far past the verge of Night ;
Yet, valiant hearts, who were in need most true,
When years drift by, and Time's tired pulse beats low,
We shall remember you.
Watt
The good ship continued on
her course, keeping all the while as near the shore as possible, so that
the passengers might have a chance to contemplate at leisure the beauties
of the land henceforth to be their home. Up Northumberland Strait they
made their way, past Point Prim, where the clearings made by the exiled
Acadians were still plainly visible, past the Head of Hillsboro Bay, where
fourteen years before, ships of war lay in the offing demanding at the
cannon's mouth the surrender of Fort LaJoie; past the two headlands
stretching out into the waters, as if eager to clasp hands across the
entrance to the harbour; past the three tides, where the East, West and
North Rivers mingle their waters on their way to the Gulf, and as the
immigrants gazed enraptured by the beauty of what they &:w, the Captain
brought his vessel to, and soon she was riding at anchor at a point
directly opposite the sloping ground, whereon stands today the City of
Charlottetown.
Needless to say that in
1772 Charlottetown did not resemble in any detail the City of today. In
fact at that date it was nothing more than a City in embryo. Its site, it
is true, had been well chosen and it had been carefully laid out with wide
streets intersecting at right angles. It contained military barracks of
some pretensions, a residence for the Governor, who had arrived only two
years previous, a hotel or two that scarcely surpassed the standing of
ordinary taverns, private residences to accomodate a scanty civic
population; so that taking it all in all, it was only a mere village,
though it was the centre of Government, and the principal scene of
business activity for the entire Colony. The immigrants, however, had not
much time to study these things ; as their stay here was only short, so
eager were they all to continue their journey. Soon the anchor was weighed
once more, and the "Alexander" glided up the East River till they reached
Lot 36, where lay the lands purchased in the previous year by Captain
MacDonald. Here the final stop was made, and the passengers leaving the
Ship landed on the North side of the Hillsborough River, at a point known
for some time as "The Portage."
This name had come down
from the time of the early French Settlers, who on their journeys from
Fort LaJoie to St. Peters, were accustomed to go up the East River in
boats or canoes, land at this point and portage across country to the head
of Tracadie Bay, whence they could continue by water to their destination.
From this time the name "Portage" gradually fell into disuse, because it
necessarily lost much of its application by the changed conditions that
followed the arrival of the immigrants; and furthermore, because they
deemed it advisable to select a name for the locality that would serve to
recall memories of the Motherland beyond the seas. As they were coming up
the river they saw on the North bank, the remains of a Fort erected by the
French, which give to the neighborhood around about it the name French
Fort. Guided by this circumstance they decided to give their new
settlement the name of Scotchfort, and this name it has continued to hold
till our day.
Here then, was the end of
the great journey that had occasioned so many months of anxious
preparation, and had entailed so many sacrifices, trials and tears. Here
was the land they had so often desired, so often dreamed of, and which in
many moments of despondency they feared they might never see. Here at last
they had reached the goal of their wishes, and as they gazed around them,
mingled feelings of fear and discouragement welled up within them, and
found outward expression in grave forebodings with regard to the future.
Around them were the lands, cleared by the labors of the French settlers,
who were driven out after the fall of Louisburg in 1758, but now these
clearings were gradually disappearing under the vigorous growth of
fourteen years. The cellars and foundations of the houses they had
occupied ere still quite visible, and these ruins tend to recall to the
minds of the new immigrants the painful memories of their own
expatriation. Near by could be seen the charred ruins of the old French
Church of St. Louis, which had shared in the destruction wrought at the
Conquest, and right beside it the Cemetery, where lay the bodies of the
Acadian Pioneers who had been spared by a timely death from witnessing the
ruin of their homes.
No wonder then, that amidst
such surroundings the new immigrants should be sad and dejected; no wonder
indeed, that as they stood on the River bank, in the midst of their
possessions just removed from the ship, and scattered about in distracting
confusion on the shore, their hearts should be filled with sombre
melancholy and sigh again for Scotia's "rugged hills."
But, the tall form of
Father James moves amongst them. He speaks words of trust in the
Providence of God. He has a word of cheer for this one, of sympathy for
that other, or of kindly reprimand for a third, and his Priestly presence
soothes their troubles, allays their anxieties, calms their fears, and
fills their failing souls with a spirit of determination to face all
difficulties with hope and courage. So they turn their faces to the future
and with abiding trust in God, they begin to measure the possibilities of
the situation.
Some preparation had been made for their coming, by the laborers sent out
in the previous year by Captain MacDonald. The forest had been felled in
places, primitive log cabins had been erected which now stood in readiness
to welcome their first occupants. In one of these Father James said his
first Mass in Prince Edward Island, surrounded by as many worshippers as
could find access within its narrow walls, and thus did the Son of God
come down amongst his faithful people, amid circumstances of poverty and
destitution, that might well bring back to their minds the touching story
of his coming on the first Christmas night in the stable of Bethlehem.
The straitened
circumstances of that first Mass were only an index of the privations,
which the immigrants would have to endure in every phase of their new
life. It was to all that many hardships were in store for them, and
looking forward with what hope they would, they could not expect to be
able to do more than eke out a mere subsistence at least for many years to
come.
It would indeed, be
difficult to picture conditions in Prince Edward Island in 1772. The
changes wrought by a hundred and fifty years of steady progress have so
obliterated the landmarks of the past, that it is practically impossible
to realize the state of the Colony at that date. The soil was still
covered by the primeval forest except in a few places, where attempts at
permanent settlements had been made. Much of the clear lands, abandoned by
the French was gradually disappearing under a fresh growth of young trees,
that had sprung up to surprising heights in the years succeeding the
Conquest.
There were scarcely any
roads in the country except some rudimentary attempts at such, in the
vicinity of Charlottetown, and in consequence travelling was difficult and
often dangerous. The principal highways were the rivers, and over these
the travellers proceeded in boats or canoes if the season was summer, and
on foot or on skates when winter's frost had covered their bosoms with a
coat of ice. When the waterways failed it was necessary to travel the
forest guided usually by a pocket compass, or by a blaze or mark cut on
the trees to indicate the direction of the route. Of the ordinary
necessaries of life the Colony had never more than a scanty supply, and
owing to the difficulties of communication from place to place they were
at times well nigh impossible to procure. The modern conveniences that in
our day obtain in all civilized communities had not yet reached Prince
Edward Island, and in consequence, the inhabitants were almost always at
their wits ends how to devise ways and means of meeting the most ordinary
problems that arose in their daily lives. |
