Canada, by Jove

By Betty Annand

Canada by Jove is a historical fiction novel about a handsome and daring young Englishman, Bert White, who accompanies his brother, Ernie, on a journey across the ocean to Canada in 1910. They leave England with only a few pence in their pockets, but with their pleasing personalities, musical talents and imaginations, they arrive in Montreal with enough cash to enjoy a few weeks of leisure before looking for employment.

This novel takes the reader on a journey through the towns and cities of 1900s Canada from the East Coast to the West Coast. Readers experience the hardships that early settlers had to endure, and except for the town of Glory, all the cities and towns mentioned in this book are, or were, real.

Bert is willing to try his hand at any job that comes his way but he soon discovers that being a cowboy isn’t as romantic as he had imagined and a hobo’s life isn’t enviable.

In Calgary Bert meets Nell, a pretty young girl who has come from Nova Scotia to stay with her sister and brother-in-law. They marry and after their fourth child is born, they set out on a journey by car for Vancouver—a four month journey in an older model touring car, loaded down with all their belongings and tenting gear, through mountains and canyons on dirt, trail-like roads. The dangers they encounter on this trip are frightening but the scenery and the towns they visit make it all worth while.
Join this extra-ordinary couple as they build a life and raise a family at a time when the Canadian west was in its infancy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Sep 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228619383

Book preview

Canada, by Jove

By Betty Annand

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-0-2286-1938-3

Kindle 978-0-2286-1939-0

PDF 978-0-2286-1940-6

Print ISBNs

BWL Print 978-0-2286-1941-3

LSI Print 978-0-2286-1942-0

B&N Print 978-0-2286-1937-6

Amazon Print 978-0-2286-1943-7

Copyright 2021 by Betty Annand

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

Dedication

I dedicate this novel to my parents, Bert and Nell White—

without them there would be no story.

Chapter 1

Make us proud, lads. Those were the last words the brothers, Ernest (Ernie) and Hubert (Bert) White, heard their father say, as they leaned over the ship’s railing and waved goodbye. Ernie called back, but the lump in Bert’s throat only allowed a nod. He would miss them all; his parents, his Aunt Dolly, and his other eleven siblings, but none as much as his beloved Gran.

The entire family and Ernie’s fiancé, Ada, had travelled from Sandwich to London on the train to see the brothers set sail for Canada. Bert had sat with his Gran, holding her hand in his so she could squeeze it whenever she suffered a bout of pain. Knowing she wasn’t well, he had told her she didn’t have to come, but she had been determined to be there when he boarded the ship. When they said goodbye on the pier, it was all they could do to hide their sorrow, both knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Of all her seventeen grandchildren, Bert was Gladys’ favourite. As soon as he could talk, he began to sing, thus she knew they had a kindred spirit. His mother had named him Bert having no idea that his great-grandmother had shared the same name. Gladys had never told anyone that her mother, Bert Tunner, had sang and danced in the garbage-laden pubs and streets of Old Nichol; one of the worst slum districts in London and the place where Gladys was born in 1829.

By the time he was seventeen, Bert was adept at singing and playing the piano and the violin. Although he wasn’t vain, he took pride in his appearance. He had a good head of black hair and kept it brushed neatly to one side with a natural wave in the front. His features were evenly proportioned, and not only was he a handsome young man with an amiable personality, but he was fearless, inquisitive and adventurous—an ideal candidate for a journey to the wilds of Canada.

Ernie, not quite as adventurous as Bert, was equally as fearless and he also looked forward to the voyage. Although only an inch taller than Bert, Ernie had a habit of standing overly straight, which exaggerated his height—and his slightly protruding tummy. His hair, a bit lighter in colour than Bert’s, had already begun to thin, adding generously to his countenance, which not only shone, but beamed. Always full of enthusiasm, Ernest practically bounced when he walked, and his overall appearance portrayed a true optimist with a personality to match.

His voice wasn’t as melodic as Bert’s, but he was equally fond of singing and they were both members of their church’s choir. Ernie preferred to dress conservatively, and for the voyage had chosen a black suit, white shirt and black tie. Bert, who referred to his brother’s suit as ‘Funerary Finery,’ had instead purchased a less sombre suit in a medium grey with a light blue check that was belted at the waist in the latest style. He shocked his family even more when he complimented the suit with a pale blue shirt and a blue and navy striped tie. Both wore bowler hats, but Bert wore his at a jauntier angle.

Both brothers were trained machinists and welders, and Ernie had been working on a bridge for the Government when he fell and landed on his head. Every full moon thereafter, he suffered with severe headaches until the pain became so excruciating that the queen’s surgeon—so their father declared—was called in to examine him. The prognosis was that a total change of scenery might be worth trying. Thus, his father decided to send him to Canada for a time, and being convinced that the country was not yet fully civilized, he reasoned that it would be safer if he had a companion. Bert was thrilled when his father chose him.

Martin White, whose success in the construction business was intermittent due to his eccentricities, was at this time low on funds. Nevertheless, he insisted his sons travel across the sea first class and well clad, even if their pockets were empty. Thankfully, meals were included in the price of the fare. When his Gran offered to give them spending money, Bert insisted they wouldn’t need it, saying that if there wasn’t a preacher aboard, they could probably conduct a Sunday service. He said Ernie could manage the preaching and he could take care of the music. He also said he was taking along a pair of shears and would offer to cut hair if anyone needed a trim.

But you have never cut anyone’s hair in your life! Gladys protested.

Don’t worry, Gran, I shall snip a little off here and a little off there and then tell them it’s the latest style in Canada. We shall arrive in Montreal with our pockets bulging with money. Gladys just shook her head and laughed. She would give anything to be there to see it, having no doubt they would be able to achieve whatever they set out to do.

Once the ship was under way, the two voyagers soon forgot any regrets they had about leaving the home they grew up in, and like two young boys, they examined every nook and cranny they were allowed to explore. Although Bert was twenty-three and Ernie twenty-five, they had all they could do to keep from holding their arms out at their sides and running back and forth in the wind on the promenade deck.

When it was time for tea, they were seated at a table with six other passengers: a friendly young couple from London, a single middle-aged man, who spoke French but very little English, and another English couple with a pouting teenage daughter. By the time the meal was over, Ernie had all the adults chatting away as though they were the best of friends, and the teenage daughter was no longer pouting, having fallen madly in love with Bert.

There was a piano in the ship’s salon, and once Bert played and sang a few songs, he couldn’t enter the room without being cajoled into playing more. His Gran had taught him most of the American composer, Stephen Foster’s, songs and they were the favourite of everyone on board since many hadn’t heard them before. They especially liked the song, Beautiful Dreamer. Some of the passengers even went so far as to approach the captain and suggest he hire Bert to play every evening. The captain, who had also heard Bert play and had enjoyed it as well, sent for him.

Ernie, thinking he would be the best negotiator, went along with Bert to the captain’s quarters. Captain Bradshaw Potts, a middle-aged man with a portly figure and a tidy goatee, appeared to be much sterner than he actually was. Now then, Mr. White, he began, looking very sombre, it seems you are much in demand, and since I have hired a pianist from time to time, perhaps you would like to take on the job while you’re aboard. I usually pay by the hour, so if you’ll excuse the pun, it’s a matter of no play, no pay. Then he surprised the brothers by putting his head back and emitting a hearty laugh.

Ernie took this as a favourable sign and suggested that they be allowed to perform other means of entertainment as well. All free of charge of course, and at no cost to you, captain. Of course, we shan’t refuse small gratuities, but we shan’t ask for them either.

The captain began to wonder if he had made a mistake. These young men might be smooth-talking shysters for all he knew, and he had a duty to protect his passengers. Before he had a chance to say anything, Ernie added, Captain, may I inquire if you have a preacher aboard?

No, I usually handle any burials and weddings myself, why do you ask?

Well, you see, my brother and I shall be happy to conduct Sunday services for the two Sundays we are at sea. I have taken the service at our church from time to time and have my bible with me, and Bert can lead the singing. We are members of the Anglican Church, but we welcome all denominations. Would that be acceptable?

All thoughts of shysters vanished; the captain smiled and replied, Gentlemen you’ve just put my mind at rest. I will even attend your services, and if there’s anything you need, please feel free to ask.

Ernie was in his glory. He hadn’t been completely truthful when he said he’d taken the service at his church—he’d simply read a few pieces from the scriptures, but he had always longed to preach and wasted no time preparing a sermon. After the first Sunday, Bert declared that his brother did such a splendid job, he could have been preaching in Westminster Abbey. Most of the boys in the White family knew how to tell a story, but none as well as Ernie, thus he had no trouble holding the attention of his audience.

Bert also did a commendable job by playing the piano and leading the singing. He chose the liveliest hymns and some members of the congregation declared it the most entertaining church service they had ever attended. Thus, all were very generous when the collection plate was passed, allowing the brothers enough money for a week’s accommodation when they arrived in Montreal.

Although Bert didn’t have an opportunity to practice barbering, he cleverly invented another means of raising money. He organized a daily exercise club, and for a nominal fee, he led the group through a daily morning routine of stretches and bends before doing six laps at a fast pace around the promenade. Fortunately, the latest style in women’s attire had no cumbersome hoops or bustles to slow the ladies down, and because some of the men and women were single, a few romantic relationships developed.

Because the brothers were interested in all types of machinery, they asked the captain if they might go below to see the engine room. The captain replied that he had another man aboard who had asked to do the same thing, so he would arrange a tour for the three of them. When he said the other man’s name was Leonard Striker, Ernest said they had already met. Leonard and Blanch Striker were the friendly young couple who ate at their table, and both had joined Bert’s exercise group. That evening they visited with the Strikers before retiring.

Are you intending to remain in Canada for a time? Ernie asked Leonard.

Yes, we have plans to immigrate if we like it. And you?

I really do not know. First, I shall have to find work, and then I shall decide.

What about you, Bert, Mrs. Striker asked.

If it’s like I’ve imagined, I shall probably stay in Canada for the rest of my life. Have you been to Montreal before, Mrs. Striker?

No, this is our first visit, but I have done a little reading about it. Evidently it is a very religious city. After the author, Mark Twain, visited there, he wrote that it was the first time he was ever in a city where you couldn’t throw a brick without breaking a church window. I imagine they are mostly Roman Catholic churches though, but I’ve also read that they are quite beautiful, so I am looking forward to seeing them.

I am sure there shall be a few Anglican churches as well. If not, Ernie enjoys preaching and he shall soon have one up and running. Then finding the woman easy to talk to, he went on to say, But what intrigues me most about the country is the freedom the average Canadian enjoys, or so I have been told. I mean, I have heard that the only difference between the rich and the poor is a bank account, and titles are of no consequence.

Oh my, you do sound rebellious!

A trait I’m proud to say I inherited from my grandmother. She was, and still is, a freedom fighter.

Well, I just hope Canada is what you say it is, but I’ll be happy if we don’t have to contend with that dreary fog for days on end.

Bert smiled then asked, Forgive me if I am being too inquisitive, but do you have family in Canada?

Leonard, who had been listening, answered for his wife, No, both of our families live in England, but we hope to raise a few Canadians once we get settled. Isn’t that so, Blanch? he asked, while putting his arm around her. Instead of answering, Blanch blushed sweetly and smiled.

When Ernie asked Leonard what sort of job he would be looking for when they arrived in Canada, Leonard surprised him and said that he already had a job and a house to rent. I am sure you have heard of the English Shipyard Company, Vickers, Sons, and Maxim? Well, I’ve been working for them for the past five years, and now they are building a shipyard in a place called Maisonneuve. I believe it’s a neighbourhood in Montreal. The company has hired me, along with a few more English tradesmen, to train some of the local workers, and because they want their employees to remain in Canada, they are providing us with a place to live.

What sort of work do you do? Ernest asked.

I’m a machinist.

Bert looked at Ernie and they both laughed. For a second, Leonard looked offended, but then Bert said, Forgive us, but that’s what we are!

You mean you are both machinists? When they nodded, Leonard looked thoughtful for a minute then said, The White Brothers—you wouldn’t by any chance be the White brothers who blew up one of Queen Bess’s cannons?"

Oh dear, I thought we would be able to leave our past mistakes behind, Ernie answered while pretending to be embarrassed.

I must hear the story, or I shan’t sleep a wink tonight. Please, Bert, do tell us all about it, Blanch begged.

If you insist, but it’s not something we are proud of. You see, Ernie and I, along with our eldest brother, Sid, were hired to dismantle all Queen Bess’s cannons. We had almost finished the job, except for one cannon that we could not budge, and no amount of prying would loosen it from its setting. Finally, we decided to use dynamite. Unfortunately, none of us had any experience working with it before. We had no idea how much to use, so instead of doing the sensible thing and asking someone, we decided that more was sure to work better than less, and in a manner of speaking, we were right. That cannon certainly moved!

Here Ernie joined in and said, I’m sure they could hear the noise it made as far away as London. Thinking about it caused him to begin laughing, and Bert, who could still picture it, couldn’t help but laugh too.

That old cannon went flying up in the air as though it had been shot from a volcano. I can see it now, he said with tears running down his cheeks. They both couldn’t stop laughing, and it was so contagious that the Strikers joined in.

Finally, when they stopped laughing, Ernie apologized, I’m sorry, Mrs. Striker, but it makes us laugh just to think of it. Neither of us could hear for a week and had to ask everyone to write down whatever they had to say.

But that’s not the end of their story, my dear, Leonard added, From what I’ve been told—instead of falling into the ocean, the cannon, still in one piece, landed right in the middle of a certain Lord’s fancy rose-bed, just when her Ladyship was hosting a garden party. They say that she and her guests ran for cover, thinking they were being attacked by the French.

That rumour is not quite right, Bert insisted. Although, his Lordship and Ladyship were in fact, enjoying a cup of tea in the garden, they were alone. They did, however, make a run for the potting shed. Then, after recovering from the shock, they were even more astounded to discover that there was one of Queen Bess’s cannons sitting among their prize roses as though it had grown there.

Instead of being upset, his Lordship, a man with a jolly good sense of humour, and a vivid imagination, was delighted. When we arrived to recover the gun, fully expecting to be met by a very irate landowner, his Lordship begged us to leave it where it landed. He even went so far as to promise that if we would just go away and not say anything about it, he wouldn’t either. I thought he kept his promise, but he must have shared the story with someone, because you heard about it.

Just then the captain came by and notified them that they could visit the engine room in the morning. Before they said goodnight, Leonard suggested they come to Maisonneuve with him. He said that, seeing as Vickers was an English firm, they had an excellent chance of finding employment. That night Bert and Ernie went to bed with high hopes.

Chapter 2

The next day they went below to have a look at the ship’s engines and talk to the engineers and the rest of the crew. Having watched one of the stokers as he shovelled coal into the fire, Ernie asked the man his name and then told him how much he admired his excellent physique. The man replied that it had nothing to do with his job as a stoker and then went on to explain that he had been a boxer before he went to sea. This gave Ernie an idea and he asked the fellow, whose name was Chuck, if he still had his boxing gloves. Chuck said he didn’t, but there were some on board.

We ‘as this ‘ere room we can use to exercise in. ‘Course none of us needs exercising when we gets through shovelling coal at nights, but I likes to work out with the gloves on my days off, so the captain got some for me. There’re two pairs an’ sometimes one of the chaps’ spars with me.

That evening, when they were getting ready for bed, Ernie suggested that they should stage a boxing match. Chuck is about your size, Bert, and I remember you doing very well in the school matches.

Bert reminded Ernie that he had only boxed one time, and that was when he was ten years old, but it didn’t dissuade Ernie. You would only have to go five rounds. I would gladly have a go at it, but right now a blow to my head could cause irreparable damage. I daresay there are a lot of bored men on board who would pay a good price just to see a good show of fisticuffs.

It is entirely different than fisticuffs! Boxing is a form of art, and not some sort of barroom brawl, Bert declared, angrily. Ernie apologized and then tried to ease Bert’s concerns by telling him that he would be in his corner at all times, and that after the fight they could divide the profits between them all. It was a tempting argument, and Bert knew that if they didn’t find a job soon after they arrived in Montreal, the money would come in handy.

Ernie insisted that if Bert didn’t want to box, he would understand, but he still kept talking about how advantageous it would be to have enough money so they could spend a few weeks sightseeing before they looked for work. He was so persuasive that finally Bert gave in, I know I am an ass for agreeing, but what have I got to lose except a few teeth and my good looks! I shall do my best to put on a good show, but I warn you, if this chap Chuck was any good at all, I may only last a few rounds.

Chuck, who could always use a little extra money, agreed to the fight and after spreading the word around the ship, the bout was held. The attendance was even better than Ernie had anticipated and, surprisingly, quite a few wives came with their husbands—something they would never have done in England. Chuck had once been a good boxer, but he had what fighter’s call a glass jaw and hadn’t won many matches. Bert, on the other hand, hadn’t a chance against a seasoned fighter, even one with a glass jaw, and he spent most of his time in the ring trying, unsuccessfully, to defend himself. As Ernie watched his brother suffer one blow after another, he began to feel guilty for organizing the match, and between rounds, he begged Bert to let him stop the fight, but Bert refused to quit.

Bert didn’t do badly in the first rounds and might even have scored a point for round two, but then Chuck, who hadn’t been in the ring for many years, began to feel at home and although he didn’t want to hurt Bert, he had been trained to win every fight he took part in, so poor Bert suffered the consequences. He was knocked down twice, but both times managed to get up off the mat before the count of ten.

The allotted five rounds seemed like twenty, and Bert was barely standing at the end of the last round. Both his eyes were still black and blue the day they disembarked. The captain had invited the brothers to share a bottle of his best rum in his quarters on the last night aboard ship, and while they were having a drink, he offered them both a job anytime they wanted it. Ernie said he would be happy to take the Sunday services on his return to England, but Bert just thanked him and said that he wouldn’t be going back.

The brothers didn’t go directly to Maisonneuve with the Strikers because they now had enough money to stay in a hotel in Montreal and do some sightseeing. They were pleasantly pleased with what they saw, and both wrote long letters home. They each wrote one letter to the family, and Ernie wrote to his fiancé, Ada. They had planned on getting married as soon as Ernie could return to England or whenever Ada was able to come to Canada, so although they were sad to be apart, they were sure it would only be a year or two before they could be together forever.

What Mark Twain had said was true. Wherever Bert looked he could see steeples and domes of churches looming over the buildings and monopolizing the landscape. He wrote his Gran telling her how majestic they appeared, and how beautiful the ones he visited were inside. He stated how impressed he was with many of the buildings, especially the bank of Montreal with its six huge Roman pillars at the front, and many smaller ones inside. The ornate domed ceiling was circled with lights, and the building had such a regal ambience, he felt honoured to deposit his money there.

Then, he felt obliged to explain how he and Ernie managed to arrive with enough money to make a deposit in the bank and couldn’t resist adding an ‘I told you so.’ He also described the hotel they were staying in and the unusual, but tasty, food they served. They had arranged to have their mail delivered at the post office, so he sent her the address and told her he would let her know if they moved.

In the second letter Bert wrote to his grandmother, he mentioned that they were having quite a time trying to communicate with the local people, because not many spoke English. I can just imagine how difficult it was for the Indians who lived here when the French came. Like us, they must have had to use sign language in order to be understood. Then he tried to describe the magnificent monument in memory of Paul Chomeday de Maisonneuve, the founder of Montreal, that was in the centre of the Place des’ Armes. The statue was very interesting, but what Bert liked the most was one of the four sculptured figures at its base.

The sculpture was of an Iroquois man and Bert was mesmerized with it. He had heard about the different tribes who lived in Canada, but he had imagined they all looked wild and fierce, not handsome and noble like the one on the statue. He wrote his Gran saying he hoped to meet some of them before long, and he wondered if the ones she had met in New York, many years ago, looked as proud as the one on the monument. He recalled his Aunt Dolly telling him that she had met an Indian Chief when she was a little girl and went to London to see the first World’s Fair with her grandfather. The chief had given her an eagle feather, and she had not only met the chief, but an Indian princess too. I hope I shall be as fortunate, he thought.

Ernie also enjoyed exploring the city, but after two weeks, he became anxious to find a job and begin earning wages, so they decided to take a tram to Maisonneuve and look up Leonard and Blanch Striker. The Strikers had an extra bedroom and insisted the brothers stay with them. Leonard had been right, and they were both offered jobs training local workers. Ernie had experience deep-sea diving, so he was hired to train men in that field, while Bert was hired to teach welding and machining. While both jobs paid well, they proved to be difficult because of the language barrier.

Ernie’s job was also very tiring. Most days he, and two or more of his students, had to wear diving suits. There were so many parts to the cumbersome suits that had to be secured every time they made a dive that it took a long time to be outfitted. First, they had to put on special diver’s underwear and then the diving tenders would help them into their suits and lace up their leg flaps. Next, they put on their eighty-four pound belts. Once they were in their suits, they had to sit down while the tenders put on their heavy metal boots and huge helmets. Ernie always wore what was referred to as a horse collar around his neck before he put the helmet on to prevent chafing, but some divers didn’t use one.

Once the helmet was in place, and all the tubes in order, the tenders would begin tightening up the bolts to seal the helmet to the suit. The face plate would be open during this procedure so the diver could breathe. When everything was in order, the face plate would be closed and the air turned on, then the diver would give the signal to ‘button her up,’ and he would be ready to dive. It was very awkward to walk once the suit was on and the divers had to be helped, but once they were in the water, the buoyancy made the suits much lighter and easier to manage. Needless to say, it was a stressful job, but Ernie didn’t complain because the wages were better than he could find anywhere else.

After teaching for a year, Bert grew bored with the job, so he decided to apply for a job as a tram operator. The pay wouldn’t be as good, but it would give him the opportunity to see more of the city and meet more local citizens. Because he liked to think he was more of a socialist than a capitalist, he was anxious to compare the lives of the Canadian working class to the average English commoner. Every spare moment he had, he took rides on all the lines of the Montreal Tramway, and after a month, he decided he preferred the Hochelaga and Lachine line. The little