Grand River

By J.Barry MacLeod

GRAND RIVER takes the MacLeod family from Scotland to Nova Scotia and beyond, enduring the hardships of immigration and war, love and loss, crime and punishment. It focuses on three brothers who make their way through major historic events of the 20th century and explores the complex relationships that constitute family.

Neil, the impetuous brother who enlists in the army in 1914 without informing his first love and fiance, and spends decades trying to win her back. Rod, the dreamer, fascinated by the science of flight goes to England to learn how to become a better pilot and finds himself fighting over the skies of France. He spends years searching war-torn Europe for the mysterious nurse who helped him recover from a near fatal plane crash. Norman, the youngest brother, became educated in the Arts and Business and became a successful entrepreneur who ended up on the wrong side of the law.

Told with humor and respect for history, Grand River is a heart-warming, family saga that is enlightening and enduring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jul 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228852315

J.Barry MacLeod

J.Barry MacLeod grew up in Louisbourg, Nova Scotia. He now lives in Amherst with his wife, Wendy.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by J. Barry MacLeod

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-5230-8 (Hardcover)

978-0-2288-5229-2 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-5231-5 (eBook)

To Kelly, Deanne, and Wendy for their inspiration, encouragement, assistance, and patience.

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 1

It was a time of despair and hope - despair for those who would have to remain in the Highlands during the clearances of the mid-nineteenth century and hope for those who were able to leave. The clearances were the result of the landlords, mostly English, removing their tenant farmers off the land so they could use the land for grazing areas on which sheep could be raised. Farming was difficult at best on the rocky, barren slopes and profits made were just marginal. The potato blight, which affected the Irish more harshly than the Scots, nevertheless created extreme hardship for the clans. Whether the clearances were done for genuine economic reasons or because the Highlanders supported the Jacobite rebellions decades ago would be discussed in kitchens and pubs for decades.

One family that had achieved some degree of success and therefore able to accumulate some funds were the MacLeods - Alexander and his wife, Annag. He had attained some measure of success growing barley, good barley, which was used in the production of the Scot’s favourite libation, whiskey. They gave up their land and along with their sons, John Norman, and Murdock, made the arduous journey from the village of Dunvegan on the Isle of Skye toward the city of Glasgow. There they found refuge in a boarding house and several days of walking and searching, Alexander found work on a barley acreage owned by the Glasgow Burns distillery company. He was elated for he was going to be doing what he loved to do and was within walking distance of the final product of his toils. He was able to move his family into a small but comfortable cottage nearby.

Within a few short years, John Norman and Murdock grew into young men and both worked in the distillery. Murdock was content there and hoped he would be able to stay and make it a career of some sort. John Norman was well liked by management and was doing well, but he was not content. He had been reading about the Americas and wanted to fulfill his dream of being a landowner. He had heard of other fellow Scots who made their way to Canada where land was plentiful and arable. He had gotten married, already had two boys, John Angus and Daniel James, and thought if he was ever to make a bold move, he had had to do it soon. His wife, Fiona, although skeptical, agreed. If they were going to do it, they must do it now. Annag was saddened by the thought of her son and grandsons being so far away, but Alexander knew the dream of owning one’s own land and if he were young, he would venture off as well. John Norman and Fiona made up their minds; to Canada they would go.

John Norman moved his family into the city of Glasgow in 1883 and began his search for passage to Canada. Glasgow had become a bustling city, the industrial revolution making its location on the river Clyde, helping to make a major European seaport and shipbuilding center. However, like seaports all over the world there were slums and undesirable places to live, not a place where he wanted to bring up a family. Accommodations for transients were difficult to find. Those that were available were cramped, unclean, and owned by unscrupulous landlords taking advantage of those trying to leave the country. John Norman was able to procure a room in a converted old warehouse on the waterfront. It was large, with a small wood or coal stove for cooking and heating, although barely adequate for either. They would have to share toilet and bathing facilities with other families. Fortunately, it was the spring of the year and keeping warm was a chore but not impossible, the west of Scotland could be damp and cool, sunny days being a rarity. John N., as he became known, and his boys would spend their days watching the comings and goings of the sailing ships among the docks hoping to find one that give them passage to Canada, Nova Scotia in particular. They had learned about Scottish settlements in places like St. Anne’s and Pictou where land was plentiful and the air clean. Many of those waiting were not so particular. They would get on any ship that would take them anywhere in the new world; they would find work doing something.

One night late in August, John was sitting in one of the many alehouses along the waterfront. He was beginning to worry about his diminishing funds and the onset of colder weather. He was able to find sporadic work loading cargo and such but those meagre wages would simply pay for his day-to-day needs. Fiona was worried about the boys schooling and their need for more suitable clothing. She was a patient woman but her patience was wearing thin. John N. was finishing his last pint when a small, weathered man came in and asked if he could sit at the table.

Of course, sure, rest your bones and have a pint, John N. said. I was just going to leave.

Oh, stay a bit, son, the old timer said, You’re new around here, ain’t ya? I thought I knew everyone around the docks, except them that don’t stay long, and what do you do?

Well, not much now and then. He told the man about his past, his plans for the future, and his hope of getting passage to Canada.

Well laddie, maybe I can be of some help to ya. You see I am the captain of a barque that is planning to set sail in three days for Halifax. That’s in Nova Scotia. I have a cargo of bales of heavy wool from the Highlands and a few barrels of whiskey. Might be able to find room for you - how many?

Just four of us, my wife and two lads, and our belongings, but there aren’t many of those.

Well, the Captain said, I’m sure we can make room for you and your lass and boys. The cost of the trip would be twenty-five pounds each and any food you get from the pantry would be extra.

Sounds like a fair deal to me John N. said. A bit expensive, he thought, but under the circumstances, the would-be settlers had little choice. He paid the captain five pounds in advance and sealed the deal over a few drams of whiskey. They were to be at pier number seven early in the morning of September 2 at which time they would set sail. The captain was small in stature with a narrow face and a scruffy, short, grey beard. He had piercing eyes and a smile that revealed dark tobacco stains on the few teeth that he had. John N. watched the old captain limp away and out the door. He thought maybe he should sit a bit with the hope that the smell of dark ale and scotch whiskey would be dissipated by the time he made it home.

Fiona felt more than a little trepidation after he told her about the wonderful travel arrangements he had made; it was clear to her that he was not drinking tea all evening.

A hundred pounds, John, and you’ve no proof that you gave him the money? You are daft! She sat down, head in hands. Do you even know the man’s name?

Aye, John said as he took off his coat and sat beside her at the table. The two boys were awake, eager to know what was going on.

Are we going someplace where it is warm, Papa? We heard people say there are places in the new world where it’s warm all the time, not like here.

We are going to a place called Nova Scotia, my lad, said John. The summertime is warm and so’s the spring, but the winter’s cold, I guess. There is a settlement there of our own people and there is plenty of good land where we can farm again. We will have a good life, boys, you’ll see.

Do you even know this captain’s name and where to find him? Fiona interrupted as she served their supper of fish stew and biscuits. And will there be enough room and food on this boat?

We have to bring our own grub, Fiona, and if we run out we can buy some from the ship’s larder.

And for a fine price too, I’m sure, said Fiona. I hope you know what you’re doing, John Norman MacLeod. We don’t have that much money left and we have to start all over whenever we get to wherever we are going.

Let me finish, John N. replied, becoming a bit annoyed about his wife’s doubts and fears, especially in front of the boys. "The captain’s name is Jonathan Lewis from Aberdeen and he has made the ocean journey many times. His ship is the Oban Argosy and a fine ship she is, he says, a sailing vessel with lots of room. Now, stop worrying. We’ve a lot to do in the next couple of days, packing up all our stuff. You get all you need to make our food, Fiona, and me and the boys will start packing our trunks and bags."

They quietly finished eating, each one sitting there with their own thoughts about what might lie ahead.

September 7 began cold and dreary, with enough of a northerly wind to make things quite uncomfortable. John N. was able to get two large trunks laden with clothing and boots and blankets down the narrow and dark stairwell to the street below. Fiona and the boys carried several canvass bags with the provisions they would need for the monthlong crossing. Dried meats, salt fish, potatoes, oatmeal, and molasses would make up the bulk of their menu. Fiona was able to make some small ginger cakes for an occasional treat. John N. was able to squirrel away a small jug of whiskey. They loaded everything onto an old wheelbarrow that they found. It was able to be repaired well enough to get to the waterfront where they arrived among the din of rogues and waifs who were eager to relieve anyone of their belongings if they were not careful. Dan and Angus ran ahead in great anticipation of the days ahead. Pier seven was bustling with people and cargo ready to board the boats as they rode on the incoming tide. There were schooners, two brigantines, several fishing boats of different shapes and sizes, a barge loading machinery, but no sailing ship and no Captain Lewis. John N. and Fiona sat on the wheelbarrow in disbelief and despair. Dan and Angus could not hold back their tears. Are we not going? Papa, do we have to stay here in this awful place?

John N. became more distraught as the morning went along and he said to Fiona, I think we have enough money to get back to Glasgow. I am sure I can get my old job back and the boys can go to school. I’m sorry my dear, I guess it was just a crazy dream I had.

John N. was ashamed, embarrassed, and angry, angrier than he had ever been in his life. He had put his wife through a difficult situation for nothing. He had been swindled out of half their travel funds by a rogue sea captain and he had allowed it to happen. He had seen charlatans and swindlers before but never taken in by their chicanery until now. He felt he must get back to Glasgow or maybe Edinburgh, find a job, and make amends. The weather was making things more unpleasant as the day wore on and more and more people were crowding into the area. Among them the fish mongers and peddlers of all types were trying to sell their wares. Then above the din of all the commotion, he heard someone call, MacLeod! MacLeod! Over here! He turned to see a wiry little man beckoning to him. It was Captain Lewis. He reached out to John N. and apologized for the confusion.

The harbour master moved his usual docking spot to make room for more and more boats coming into port. Looks like we might be getting a bit of a sou’wester brewing off the coast, may hold us up a might but no worry. He moved over to introduce himself to Fiona and the two boys.

Fine looking family you have, MacLeod, especially those two fine looking lads and your woman, why she looks healthy and strong too, for sure, the kind you will need where you are going. He introduced himself to Fiona. I am Jonathan Lewis, Lassie, captain of the Oban Argosy, at your service.

Fiona held his hand. We thought you were dishonest, that you took our money and ran off. I am so glad we were wrong.

Oh no, lass, the captain said, I’m not one of that kind. Not a crook for sure. Some may call me a little disorganized, maybe even messy, and when ashore, I has a bit more highland nectar than I should, but I treats people fair and square. Not to worry, lass, not to worry.

Fiona became more at ease. She actually liked the old seaman, not because of his appearance so much, but because he called her lass.

They made their way to Pier 3 and boarded the Argosy, as Lewis called her. She’s a fine ship, MacLeod, spent time sailing the North and Irish seas, hard sailing in those waters. She even had a voyage or two on the Pacific around the horn. I was just a bosun on ’er then, thought I would never get home to smell the heather again, but this won’t be like that for sure.

John N. scanned the ship’s hull. It looks like the old girl was dragged across the land, not over sailed around it!

Lewis chuckled. Ach, she needs some scrapping of the hull, barnacles building up on ‘er, and maybe some paint, but she is sound from bow to stern so don’t you worry about anything. Now we have a crew of eight; not too many, but good men and enough to get us there. They will stay out of your way and you should stay out of theirs. They will have lots to do. Their quarters are up in the fo’c’sle. I stays in my cabin, if you could call it. She’s pretty small back there. You folks will be in the middle of the cargo hold. Nothin’ fancy, but we will make it comfortable for you and like I told you, the cargo is wool and whiskey and all to go off at Halifax. Lewis grinned. And don’t you be thinkin’ about that whiskey, Mr. MacLeod!

Halifax, but we paid to go to a place called St. Anne’s, not Halifax! John N exclaimed.

Aye, I did say that and I will take you to St. Anne’s, but we may get to Halifax first, pendin’ on the winds and tides. Now you get your blankets and stuff ready. The crew will tote it down for you. Get yourselves prepared for we sail at noon on the outgoing tides.

By noontime, a stiff breeze was coming from the west and the Oban Argosy made its way slowly from the harbour and the River Clyde past Greenock and the narrow channel at Seamill and along the shore of the western lowlands. John N. and Fiona watched the shores of their homeland slowly disappear and wondered if they would ever be back. At nightfall, the Argosy dropped anchor at the town of Ayr where more woolens were loaded on board. The captain suggested the MacLeods should come ashore and eat at the Stag’s Head pub for some of the best fresh bannock and venison stew you could find anywhere. John N. had a pint or two of ale with his meal and the boys were entertained by the crew and other patrons telling stories about buried pirate treasures and mysterious sea creatures. Fiona had a mug or two of hot tea and thought that the bannock and stew was no better than hers.

The Argosy weighed anchor on the morning tide and under full sail made her way onto open waters through the Rathlin Sound and into the North Channel. They passed along the cliffs of Northern Ireland and the scenic green fields of Bushmills and Donegal. The natural beauty of the area masked the hardships through which the people lived: the tyranny of the English landlords, the abject poverty caused by the potato famine followed by the mass exodus of people off the lands, and their emigration to Canada and the New England states. Captain Lewis planned his course toward the southwest and with brisk winds hoped to be off the coast of Nova Scotia in record time. What he did not know now was that high winds off Africa were churning the Caribbean Sea and the southern Atlantic waters into a boil and this violent system was moving along the coastline of the Americas.

On day twenty-one, Lewis reckoned he was only a few days from Nova Scotia nearing Halifax. The seas were calmer now and the winds had subsided considerably. By midday, the sky had become dark and then the rains came. They were steady at first but soon, fanned by higher southwest winds. The Argosy listed to starboard while pounding through the heavy waves. The MacLeods huddled together as the ship pitched and rolled seemingly out of control and this continued through the night. The morning brought an eerie calm. John N. opened the hatch and came on deck to see the captain and crew scrambling to tie up those sails which were not torn to shreds and to tie down the broken booms.

Is it over? he asked, hoping for the best but fearing the worst answer.

No sir, it is not. We are in the eye of this beast and it’s a bad one. Maybe the worst of it is over, but we will have to go through it again and hope that she is not more angry. She blew us off course though. We are too far north of Halifax so you might be getting to Cape Breton sooner after all. Now you go back down below and tie anything down that’s loose and look after your lass and those boys, and don’t worry, we’ll make it if this old girl stays together.

At dawn, the dark sky was an ominous sign and the rains began again. The barque began to roll from side to side and forward to aft as the ocean swells grew larger. The neatly packed bales of wool in the ships hold were now tumbling from side to side and the whiskey barrels tipped and rolled about. John N. and the boys spent their time trying to keep Fiona comfortable as she was weak from her constant nausea. Topside, the winds increased to storm force and the heavy rains continued their assault on the rigging. Her sails became just tattered sheets and one of the three masts succumbed to the forces and split in half. It hung overboard in the churning water. Captain Lewis had fastened himself to the helm and had to watch helplessly as two crewmen were swept overboard. He kept thinking about the night before, in the relative calm mist, when he thought he spotted land off in the distance. Was it real or just a cloud formation on the horizon? He had no idea where he was now and remembered hearing about the great sandbar off Nova Scotia that had cost the lives of many seamen and their ships. The Argosy was now at the mercy of nature as she careened forward into the maelstrom. Within hours Lewis could see what he thought was a rocky shoreline. Was there a cove or some sort of harbour? He did not know. All he could do was hold fast.

The first hit simply slowed the forward motion of the disabled craft but the second was a violent crash as rocks smashed the hull’s timbers and allowed water to gush into the hold. The MacLeods scrambled to the hatch, opened it, and lifted themselves onto the deck where the rains hit them like thousands of needles and the winds tried to blow them into the sea. One of the crewmen jumped off the ship toward the rocks thinking it was worth the chance rather than being crushed on board. Captain Lewis felt the ship was now wedged between the rocks and the shore and would probably stay together until the storm abated. Everyone huddled together in the Captain’s quarters in the aft section which was badly damaged, but was still above the water line.

Later in the morning, as the rain stopped and the winds began to subside, the villagers began to arrive on the scene of the shipwreck. They removed the body of the young seaman from among the jagged rocks and wondered how many others perished. Then the first mate stepped out onto the deck. Captain Lewis followed by the MacLeods and the remainder of the crew. The men onshore tossed a rope to the ship and each person waded ashore through the pounding surf, John N. and the boys cradling Fiona as best they could as she had become too weak to walk. The villagers made the lost sailors feel at home almost immediately, each taken to a home where they could recover from their ordeal. The MacLeods found refuge with Allister MacDonald and his wife and family who had come from Scotland several years before. They had intended to find the reputed good farmlands of the Annapolis Valley, but an unscrupulous captain had taken them to the French settlement of Isle Madame, many miles away, and not the place for a Scottish protestant among the very catholic families there. They had made their way to St. Peter’s and built their homestead there. In the old days there was no love lost between the MacDonalds from the Hebrides and the MacLeods from Skye, but Allister and John N. developed a kinship quite soon, especially after a jug or two of homemade punch. Mrs. MacDonald helped Fiona upstairs to a bedroom and brought her some hot soup. Having had seven children she quickly recognized Fiona’s problem.

I think, Mrs. MacLeod, you are going to have a baby, but not for a while.

During the weeks that followed, Captain Lewis and his crew began to disperse. Lewis said his good-byes, wished the MacLeods best wishes and apologized for the rather exciting voyage he had provided. He used the rail service to make his way to Halifax in the hope of finding a way to return to Scotland.

Two of the crew stayed in Isle Madame and one went on to Canso to try and make some money in the fishing business. Two others went off to Sydney to find work on the coal carriers working along the Atlantic coast and up the St. Lawrence River. They never returned to St. Peter’s. The cargo of raw woolens, that which was not ruined by seawater, was dried and used to make yarns by the local settlers. The barrels of whiskey, those which weren’t ruptured in the shipwreck, disappeared quite quickly. It was said that there were jars of Scotch in every cupboard and barn between St. Peter’s and Sydney.

John N. and Fiona were becoming more anxious as each day went on. Winter was just a couple of months away and they needed to find a place of their own; a place where the boys could settle down until the spring of the year when they could continue their journey to St. Anne’s. Fiona was feeling well now but she didn’t want to become a burden for the MacDonald’s. Then one day there was a knock on the door. Allister opened the door for the man standing there.

Well, well, Ian Strachan, come on in, I haven’t seen you for some time. Kathleen, put on a fresh pot of tea, let me take your hat and coat, Ian. It’s good to see you.

Ian Strachan was a tall, lean, man, straight posture, well dressed in his tweed jacket and tartan tie. His family came to Nova Scotia several years ago after hearing about the vast woodlands in eastern Canada. His father started a sawmill and lumber business in Port Hawkesbury and the young Ian sold wagon loads of lumber along the Cape Breton coast as far as the industrial area in and around Sydney.

What brings you here today, Ian, buying logs or selling planks? Allister asked with a bit of a snicker. Wait, let me introduce you to our new friends, the MacLeods from Skye. He went upstairs to fetch them, and then made the introductions.

I know all about the shipwreck, Strachan said. A terrible thing, especially the young man who perished. I understand the village laid him to rest in the church yard, his kin will never know what happened to him.

He was a fine lad too interjected John N. And so were the two that were lost at sea. They worked hard. We probably owe them our lives. The ladies returned with mugs of hot tea and biscuits as the men talked about the weather and politics, although the MacLeods knew nothing about politics in Canada.

After hearing about John N.’s journey and his plans to move on to St. Anne’s, Strachan spoke up. You know, Mr. MacLeod, this area between here and Sydney is growing and we need people to settle here as well. I heard about your plight and came to offer a suggestion. There is a house in Grand River, just a few miles from here. An Irish family began to build it but before it was completed they moved on to West Louisbourg. Kehoe was their name, I believe, and why they left I don’t really know. Different folks came by but decided to move on as well. Too bad. It is a nice house, needs some finishing, but there is nice property with it: five acres of land with some timber, a barn that needs completing, and the land goes to the water’s edge near the mouth of the river. The county took possession of the property and now holds the deed and I know it could be had for a good fair price. I am sure you would like it here and we need good people. Think about it, and if you’re interested I can make arrangements for you to see it.

John N. stood, looking at Fiona. This is all very sudden, needs some thought. It’s not at all what we planned.

I know it’s a major decision, sir, but try not to wait too long. Someone else is interested, just a single man, probably wouldn’t stay long either. This is a home for a family. Strachan rose and put on his hat and coat and gloves. Thank you for your hospitality Allister and it was a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. MacLeod, and I hope you will give my suggestion serious thought. He paused as he opened the door. You know, I am staying at my sister’s tonight out in the country, but I have a little business in Grand River tomorrow so I can come by in the morning and if you would like to join me I will show you the property and the whole area. He didn’t wait for a response, just closed the door and was on his way. Ian Strachan was all business.

The next day, Strachan arrived bright and early at the MacDonald house. John N. and Fiona were still not sure what to do. For some reason, their hearts were set on St. Anne’s or maybe even Pictou where they knew there were other Scottish settlers. However, they thought it would be courteous to allow this Strachan man to show them a property. After all, he had gone through a lot of trouble to help them. The sun was shining and there was just a slight breeze when the family climbed onto the buckboard, the parents on the front seat with the driver and the two boys in the back. The horse, a large grey well-groomed stallion kept a steady gait along the trail through the stands of hardwood and softwood trees. Occasionally the shimmering ocean would appear between the foliage and entire scene impressed the visitors. Arriving at the settlement, Strachan wasted no time in getting to the Kehoe house, as it was called. Angus and Dan ran directly to the shoreline and onto the beach.

The house was one like most houses of the day, a large, peaked roof over two stories with four windows on the front. An ell protruded from the left side containing a large kitchen with a large cast iron wood or coal burning stove with a tank for hot water. Off the kitchen was a dining room with a fireplace and a smaller parlor which also had a fireplace. Upstairs were four bedrooms all of which would require some finishing work.

Those people must have left in a hurry, Fiona said. They even left some pieces of furniture along with that grand stove.

Aye they did, replied Ian. And they never once came back. Strange, and such a well-built house too. The barn is good as well but needs work to finish it.

John N. walked through some of the acreage with its valuable timber and firewood and the thick undergrowth of reeds and ferns. He could hardly believe that all this could be his.

Fiona eventually called the boys from the beach. We must go now. The MacDonalds were having supper for us and we have a ways to go.

There was not much talking on the way back, Strachan wondering what the two newcomers would do and the MacLeods wondering what to do. On returning to the MacDonald house, the MacLeod family went upstairs to talk about the day, and what they should do. At the supper table, the talk was about everything other than the day’s activities, so much so that the MacDonalds and Ian Strachan believed that their new friends would be moving on.

Finally, John N. spoke, You folks have been awful good to us since we arrived here as shipwrecked people, and Mr. Strachan we thank you for showing us a property. We liked it so much we have decided to stay. The MacLeods from Skye are settling in Grand River, Cape Breton. All we have to do now is reckon on how he can pay for all this.

Ian Strachan rose to his feet. Not to worry, I will get the deed put in your name and you can pay my company when you can. Welcome, new friends! Allister MacDonald rose, This calls for a dram or two of highland nectar.

CHAPTER 2

1913

The years following their arrival on the eastern shores of Cape Breton were both happy and harsh. Fiona had given birth to three boys: Roderick in 1896, Neil in 1899, and Norman in 1901. These were joyous occasion as each birth was relatively uneventful, and the boys being healthy babies. However, Fiona became pregnant one more time after Norman, but the baby girl was stillborn. Fiona was heartbroken and depressed; the family would say she never was quite the same after that. The harsh Atlantic winds of winter along with the cold temperatures brought more snow than they ever imagined. The spring and summer kept the family busy cutting firewood for the next winter and trying to coax the rocky soil to produce vegetables. Hunger was not a real problem there being an abundance of wildlife, deer, rabbits and waterfowl and fish that could be salted and dried or pickled. They survived along with the other families in the area: Maclntyres, Morrisons, MacDonalds, another family of MacLeods (unrelated), and a Cameron family from the Orkneys. No harder group of working people you could ever find. There was also an English couple and their son who were quite aloof, perhaps thinking being English they were in a different socioeconomic class than the others but in January in Grand River there was no class distinction. One family with a much more interesting background were the Georges, Jacob, Tess, and their son, William. They passed through St. Peters in 1905 on their way to Sydney on a cold, winter day. They travelled by horse and a wagon with a makeshift canvas covering what looked like a beaten up chuckwagon from the west. Jacob stopped at the MacGillivary general store to buy some provisions. They had been living on potatoes and turnips for the last little while.

Jacob went in, apprehensive about what kind of reception he would find. Missa sir, he said to MacGillivary. So far is it to the town of Sydney? I haven’t much vittles left and my boy and woman are quite cold. I have a little money, if I could buy a little meat and bread and maybe a blanket I’d be fixin’ to get on my way.

Sydney, one man asked. You are at least a week from there, maybe longer. The road is full of mud holes from the rains we just had and the damn motor truck got the road all tored up and besides we expect our first big snow of the year any day now.

Jacob lowered his head; now he was desperate.

Do you mind if I bring them in to get warm and have a little water and maybe a place to rest my horse? He’s pretty much spent.

MacGillivary looked around at the others as if he needed approval, replying, Sure bring them in.

Tess and William made their way to the large wood stove at the back of the store. They hadn’t felt such good warmth in weeks. Mrs. MacGillivary brought them hot tea and biscuits with molasses and a piece of cold roast beef, while another man took the horse to the barn for oats, water, and a rest. Later they were shown to room in the store loft where they could sleep and be warm. Jacob was content and so grateful for the generosity of these people. He wasn’t accustomed to it, but his big worry now was what next from here.

The next day broke with sunshine and cold temperatures. The store began to fill with the usual men sitting around the stove lamenting about the weather, the state of politics, always finding something to complain about. Other folks came to see the people that had stayed overnight with the MacGillivarys. Many had not seen a Negro before and were just curious. John N. and Fiona arrived to get some supplies and met the Georges when they came downstairs. When told of their plans, John N. said they would never make it through the mud to Sydney, and if they did, there may not be any work for them.

My boys, Dan and Angus, say that some days they don’t get called for work at all. The mines are slow and shipping is slow too, and it would be hard to find a place to live. The boys live together in one room. The company says they are gonna build more houses but who knows, they lie about everything.

Jacob had gone to the barn and began to harness his horse, prepared to move on but not knowing where they would be going.

We can’t let them go like this, Mrs. MacGillivary said. They will freeze to death somewhere. Alex, what about that Bates cabin on the old wood road toward Fourchu? They moved to Louisbourg, I think. It could be bought cheap maybe.

John N. would call his old friend, Ian Strachan, who kept aware of everything going on in the county. The Georges stayed a couple of days more, Jacob insisting on doing chores to pay for his keep. Eventually, the cabin became available and the family could stay there at least until spring. It was a small structure but well-built and contained a table and chairs and most importantly, a good stove. The Georges moved in with the help of some villagers. They didn’t know exactly where they were but were content for the first time in a long while. The locals were enthralled with his story about his moving from the American south to the city of Boston where he plied his trade as a carpenter building houses for the white folk as he would say, while he would live in a ghetto outside the city. He had heard that things were better in Canada and saved enough for a steamship ticket to Nova Scotia and the village Birchtown, which was originally settled by blacks who had been loyal to the British during the revolutionary war. However, conditions were not much better there than in Boston, so thinking life might be better up east where there was industry, he made his plans to leave. And here I is, he would say. Don’t know for how long, only good Lord knows.

As time went on, the older MacLeod boys, Dan and Angus, left school and against Fiona’s wishes went off on their own to find fortune in the coal mines and steel mill of the industrial area of Sydney and Glace Bay. Angus would spend his life there; Daniel would move on. The three younger lads continued their schooling and did the things that young boys do - things that parents would not approve, like jumping the ice dampers as they were called. These were large fragments of ice which would drift in along the shoreline in early spring. Rod and Neil would lead the way with the younger, smaller, and less agile Norman trying to keep up. It was a dangerous sport - one slip could find oneself on the beach rocks or worse falling between the flows into the icy ocean water and it was about to happen. Rod went off first to home, then Neil, and then Neil heard the screams from Norman. He made his way back over the slippery rocks to where Norman had fallen and jammed his leg between two large stones. Neil tried to pry the stones apart with a piece of driftwood but was unable to budge it. Norman was now crying uncontrollably. Neil wrapped his coat around his brother and became frantic himself as the incoming tide brought the frigid water closer and closer. He ran as fast as he could toward the house before seeing a man in a wagon on the road. It was Jacob George. The older man was able to wedge a wooden log under the rock which pinned Norman’s leg and was able to move it enough for Neil to pull his little brother free. Jacob placed the boy in his wagon and took him to the house. It was several hours before Dr. Morrison, the hardnosed but compassionate country physician who was a sometimes dentist, or obstetrician, or surgeon, arrived. Norman’s foot was almost at a right angle to his leg, but the doctor was able to anesthetize the boy with chloroform long enough to set the broken bones and ligaments.

This should have been done in a hospital, Fiona, you know that but there was no time to get him to Sydney. He placed a plaster cast around the leg and gave some pain medication to Fiona. He will need that for few days and a little brandy once in a while won’t hurt either. Now his foot might be turned in a bit, Fiona, but the ligaments, well they might bother him off and on the rest of his life. Now try and keep him off that leg for six weeks or so. It won’t be easy, those boys are rather rambunctious. He waited until Norman awoke then put on his coat, gathered his supplies and began to leave.

I don’t know how to thank you Doctor, but we will do something, said Fiona.

Just a hot pan of those scones of yours will be just fine. I will drop in within a few days to check on your boy. He closed the door and left.

When John N. came home and had heard what happened and saw his youngest boy in agony, he threatened to get a switch and give a lashing to those older boys for letting everything happen.

"No, don’t, Papa, it was not their