{"id":55,"date":"2021-06-23T10:13:31","date_gmt":"2021-06-23T14:13:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/?post_type=chapter&p=55"},"modified":"2022-02-01T11:05:31","modified_gmt":"2022-02-01T16:05:31","slug":"chapter-i-a-visit-to-grosse-isle","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/chapter\/chapter-i-a-visit-to-grosse-isle\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter I: A Visit to Grosse Isle","rendered":"Chapter I: A Visit to Grosse Isle"},"content":{"raw":"
\r\n

Alas! that man's stern spirit e'er should mar\r\nA scene so pure\u2014so exquisite as this.<\/p>\r\n<\/blockquote>\r\nThe dreadful cholera was depopulating Quebec and Montreal when our ship cast anchor off Grosse Isle, on the 30th of August 1832, and we were boarded a few minutes after by the health-officers.\r\n\r\nOne of these gentlemen\u2014a little, shrivelled-up Frenchman\u2014from his solemn aspect and attenuated figure, would have made no bad representative of him who sat upon the pale horse. He was the only grave Frenchman I had ever seen, and I naturally enough regarded him as a phenomenon. His companion\u2014a fine-looking fair-haired Scotchman\u2014though a little consequential in his manners, looked like one who in his own person could combat and vanquish all the evils which flesh is heir to. Such was the contrast between these doctors, that they would have formed very good emblems, one, of vigorous health, the other, of hopeless decay.\r\n\r\nOur captain, a rude, blunt north-country sailor, possessing certainly not more politeness than might be expected in a bear, received his sprucely dressed visitors on the deck, and, with very little courtesy, abruptly bade them follow him down into the cabin.\r\n\r\nThe officials were no sooner seated, than glancing hastily round the place, they commenced the following dialogue:\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cFrom what port, captain?\u201d\r\n\r\nNow, the captain had a peculiar language of his own, from which he commonly expunged all the connecting links. Small words, such as \u201cand\u201d and \u201cthe,\u201d he contrived to dispense with altogether.\r\n\r\n\u201cScotland\u2014sailed from port o' Leith, bound for Quebec, Montreal\u2014 general cargo\u2014seventy-two steerage, four cabin passengers\u2014brig Anne, one hundred and ninety-two tons burden, crew eight hands.\u201d\r\n\r\nHere he produced his credentials, and handed them to the strangers. The Scotchman just glanced over the documents, and laid them on the table.\r\n\r\n\u201cHad you a good passage out?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTedious, baffling winds, heavy fogs, detained three weeks on Banks\u2014foul weather making Gulf\u2014short of water, people out of provisions, steerage passengers starving.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAny case of sickness or death on board?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAll sound as crickets.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAny births?\u201d lisped the little Frenchman.\r\n\r\nThe captain screwed up his mouth, and after a moment's reflection he replied, \u201cBirths? Why, yes; now I think on't, gentlemen, we had one female on board, who produced three at a birth.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat's uncommon,\u201d said the Scotch doctor, with an air of lively curiosity. \u201cAre the children alive and well? I should like much to see them.\u201d He started up, and knocked his head\u2014for he was very tall\u2014against the ceiling. \u201cConfound your low cribs! I have nearly dashed out my brains.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cA hard task, that,\u201d looked the captain to me. He did not speak, but I knew by his sarcastic grin what was uppermost in his thoughts. \u201cThe young ones all males\u2014fine thriving fellows. Step upon deck, Sam Frazer,\u201d turning to his steward; \u201cbring them down for doctors to see.\u201d Sam vanished, with a knowing wink to his superior, and quickly returned, bearing in his arms three fat, chuckle-headed bull-terriers, the sagacious mother following close at his heels, and looked ready to give and take offence on the slightest provocation.\r\n\r\n\u201cHere, gentlemen, are the babies,\u201d said Frazer, depositing his burden on the floor. \u201cThey do credit to the nursing of the brindled slut.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old tar laughed, chuckled, and rubbed his hands in an ecstacy of delight at the indignation and disappointment visible in the countenance of the Scotch Esculapius, who, angry as he was, wisely held his tongue. Not so the Frenchman; his rage scarcely knew bounds\u2014he danced in a state of most ludicrous excitement, he shook his fist at our rough captain, and screamed at the top of his voice\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cSacre, you bete! You tink us dog, ven you try to pass your puppies on us for babies?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHout, man, don't be angry,\u201d said the Scotchman, stifling a laugh; \u201cyou see 'tis only a joke!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cJoke! me no understand such joke. Bete!\u201d returned the angry Frenchman, bestowing a savage kick on one of the unoffending pups which was frisking about his feet. The pup yelped; the slut barked and leaped furiously at the offender, and was only kept from biting him by Sam, who could scarcely hold her back for laughing; the captain was uproarious; the offended Frenchman alone maintained a severe and dignified aspect. The dogs were at length dismissed, and peace restored.\r\n\r\nAfter some further questioning from the officials, a Bible was required for the captain to take an oath. Mine was mislaid, and there was none at hand.\r\n\r\n\u201cConfound it!\u201d muttered the old sailor, tossing over the papers in his desk; \u201cthat scoundrel, Sam, always stows my traps out of the way.\u201d Then taking up from the table a book which I had been reading, which happened to be Voltaire's History of Charles XII., he presented it, with as grave an air as he could assume, to the Frenchman. Taking for granted that it was the volume required, the little doctor was too polite to open the book, the captain was duly sworn, and the party returned to the deck.\r\n\r\nHere a new difficulty occurred, which nearly ended in a serious quarrel. The gentlemen requested the old sailor to give them a few feet of old planking, to repair some damage which their boat had sustained the day before. This the captain could not do. They seemed to think his refusal intentional, and took it as a personal affront. In no very gentle tones, they ordered him instantly to prepare his boats, and put his passengers on shore.\r\n\r\n\u201cStiff breeze\u2014short sea,\u201d returned the bluff old seaman; \u201cgreat risk in making land\u2014boats heavily laden with women and children will be swamped. Not a soul goes on shore this night.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cIf you refuse to comply with our orders, we will report you to the authorities.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI know my duty\u2014you stick to yours. When the wind falls off, I'll see to it. Not a life shall be risked to please you or your authorities.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe turned upon his heel, and the medical men left the vessel in great disdain. We had every reason to be thankful for the firmness displayed by our rough commander. That same evening we saw eleven persons drowned, from another vessel close beside us while attempting to make the shore.\r\n\r\nBy daybreak all was hurry and confusion on board the Anne. I watched boat after boat depart for the island, full of people and goods, and envied them the glorious privilege of once more standing firmly on the earth, after two long months of rocking and rolling at sea. How ardently we anticipate pleasure, which often ends in positive pain! Such was my case when at last indulged in the gratification so eagerly desired. As cabin passengers, we were not included in the general order of purification, but were only obliged to send our servant, with the clothes and bedding we had used during the voyage, on shore, to be washed.\r\n\r\nThe ship was soon emptied of all her live cargo. My husband went off with the boats, to reconnoitre the island, and I was left alone with my baby in the otherwise empty vessel. Even Oscar, the Captain's Scotch terrier, who had formed a devoted attachment to me during the voyage, forgot his allegiance, became possessed of the land mania, and was away with the rest. With the most intense desire to go on shore, I was doomed to look and long and envy every boatful of emigrants that glided past. Nor was this all; the ship was out of provisions, and I was condemned to undergo a rigid fast until the return of the boat, when the captain had promised a supply of fresh butter and bread. The vessel had been nine weeks at sea; the poor steerage passengers for the two last weeks had been out of food, and the captain had been obliged to feed them from the ship's stores. The promised bread was to be obtained from a small steam-boat, which plied daily between Quebec and the island, transporting convalescent emigrants and their goods in her upward trip, and provisions for the sick on her return.\r\n\r\nHow I reckoned on once more tasting bread and butter! The very thought of the treat in store served to sharpen my appetite, and render the long fast more irksome. I could now fully realise all Mrs. Bowdich's longings for English bread and butter, after her three years' travel through the burning African deserts, with her talented husband.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen we arrived at the hotel at Plymouth,\u201d said she, \u201cand were asked what refreshment we chose\u2014'Tea, and home-made bread and butter,' was my instant reply. 'Brown bread, if you please, and plenty of it.' I never enjoyed any luxury like it. I was positively ashamed of asking the waiter to refill the plate. After the execrable messes, and the hard ship-biscuit, imagine the luxury of a good slice of English bread and butter!\u201d\r\n\r\nAt home, I laughed heartily at the lively energy with which that charming woman of genius related this little incident in her eventful history\u2014but off Grosse Isle, I realised it all.\r\n\r\nAs the sun rose above the horizon, all these matter-of-fact circumstances were gradually forgotten, and merged in the surpassing grandeur of the scene that rose majestically before me. The previous day had been dark and stormy, and a heavy fog had concealed the mountain chain, which forms the stupendous background to this sublime view, entirely from our sight. As the clouds rolled away from their grey, bald brows, and cast into denser shadow the vast forest belt that girdled them round, they loomed out like mighty giants\u2014Titans of the earth, in all their rugged and awful beauty\u2014a thrill of wonder and delight pervaded my mind. The spectacle floated dimly on my sight\u2014my eyes were blinded with tears\u2014blinded with the excess of beauty. I turned to the right and to the left, I looked up and down the glorious river; never had I beheld so many striking objects blended into one mighty whole! Nature had lavished all her noblest features in producing that enchanting scene.\r\n\r\nThe rocky isle in front, with its neat farm-houses at the eastern point, and its high bluff at the western extremity, crowned with the telegraph\u2014the middle space occupied by tents and sheds for the cholera patients, and its wooded shores dotted over with motley groups\u2014added greatly to the picturesque effect of the land scene. Then the broad, glittering river, covered with boats darting to and fro, conveying passengers from twenty-five vessels, of various size and tonnage, which rode at anchor, with their flags flying from the mast-head, gave an air of life and interest to the whole. Turning to the south side of the St. Lawrence, I was not less struck with its low fertile shores, white houses, and neat churches, whose slender spires and bright tin roofs shone like silver as they caught the first rays of the sun. As far as the eye could reach, a line of white buildings extended along the bank; their background formed by the purple hue of the dense, interminable forest. It was a scene unlike any I had ever beheld, and to which Britain contains no parallel. Mackenzie, an old Scotch dragoon, who was one of our passengers, when he rose in the morning, and saw the parish of St. Thomas for the first time, exclaimed: \u201cWeel, it beats a'! Can thae white clouts be a' houses? They look like claes hung out to drie!\u201d There was some truth in this odd comparison, and for some minutes, I could scarcely convince myself that the white patches scattered so thickly over the opposite shore could be the dwellings of a busy, lively population.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat sublime views of the north side of the river those habitans of St. Thomas must enjoy,\u201d thought I. Perhaps familiarity with the scene has rendered them indifferent to its astonishing beauty.\r\n\r\nEastward, the view down the St. Lawrence towards the Gulf, is the finest of all, scarcely surpassed by anything in the world. Your eye follows the long range of lofty mountains until their blue summits are blended and lost in the blue of the sky. Some of these, partially cleared round the base, are sprinkled over with neat cottages; and the green slopes that spread around them are covered with flocks and herds. The surface of the splendid river is diversified with islands of every size and shape, some in wood, others partially cleared, and adorned with orchards and white farm-houses. As the early sun streamed upon the most prominent of these, leaving the others in deep shade, the effect was strangely novel and imposing. In more remote regions, where the forest has never yet echoed to the woodman's axe, or received the impress of civilisation, the first approach to the shore inspires a melancholy awe, which becomes painful in its intensity.\r\n\r\nLand of vast hills and mighty streams,\r\nThe lofty sun that o'er thee beams\r\nOn fairer clime sheds not his ray,\r\nWhen basking in the noon of day\r\nThy waters dance in silver light,\r\nAnd o'er them frowning, dark as night,\r\nThy shadowy forests, soaring high,\r\nStretch forth beyond the aching eye,\r\nAnd blend in distance with the sky.\r\n\r\nAnd silence\u2014awful silence broods\r\nProfoundly o'er these solitudes;\r\nNought but the lapsing of the floods\r\nBreaks the deep stillness of the woods;\r\nA sense of desolation reigns\r\nO'er these unpeopled forest plains.\r\nWhere sounds of life ne'er wake a tone\r\nOf cheerful praise round Nature's throne,\r\nMan finds himself with God\u2014alone.\r\n\r\nMy daydreams were dispelled by the return of the boat, which brought my husband and the captain from the island.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo bread,\u201d said the latter, shaking his head; \u201cyou must be content to starve a little longer. Provision-ship not in till four o'clock.\u201d My husband smiled at the look of blank disappointment with which I received these unwelcome tidings, \u201cNever mind, I have news which will comfort you. The officer who commands the station sent a note to me by an orderly, inviting us to spend the afternoon with him. He promises to show us everything worthy of notice on the island. Captain \u2014\u2014 claims acquaintance with me; but I have not the least recollection of him. Would you like to go?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cOh, by all means. I long to see the lovely island. It looks a perfect paradise at this distance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe rough sailor-captain screwed his mouth on one side, and gave me one of his comical looks, but he said nothing until he assisted in placing me and the baby in the boat.\r\n\r\n\u201cDon't be too sanguine, Mrs. Moodie; many things look well at a distance which are bad enough when near.\u201d\r\n\r\nI scarcely regarded the old sailor's warning, so eager was I to go on shore\u2014to put my foot upon the soil of the new world for the first time\u2014I was in no humour to listen to any depreciation of what seemed so beautiful.\r\n\r\nIt was four o'clock when we landed on the rocks, which the rays of an intensely scorching sun had rendered so hot that I could scarcely place my foot upon them. How the people without shoes bore it, I cannot imagine. Never shall I forget the extraordinary spectacle that met our sight the moment we passed the low range of bushes which formed a screen in front of the river. A crowd of many hundred Irish emigrants had been landed during the present and former day; and all this motley crew\u2014men, women, and children, who were not confined by sickness to the sheds (which greatly resembled cattle-pens) were employed in washing clothes, or spreading them out on the rocks and bushes to dry.\r\n\r\nThe men and boys were in the water, while the women, with their scanty garments tucked above their knees, were trampling their bedding in tubs, or in holes in the rocks, which the retiring tide had left half full of water. Those who did not possess washing-tubs, pails, or iron pots, or could not obtain access to a hole in the rocks, were running to and fro, screaming and scolding in no measured terms. The confusion of Babel was among them. All talkers and no hearers\u2014each shouting and yelling in his or her uncouth dialect, and all accompanying their vociferations with violent and extraordinary gestures, quite incomprehensible to the uninitiated. We were literally stunned by the strife of tongues. I shrank, with feelings almost akin to fear, from the hard-featured, sun-burnt harpies, as they elbowed rudely past me.\r\n\r\nI had heard and read much of savages, and have since seen, during my long residence in the bush, somewhat of uncivilised life; but the Indian is one of Nature's gentlemen\u2014he never says or does a rude or vulgar thing. The vicious, uneducated barbarians who form the surplus of over-populous European countries, are far behind the wild man in delicacy of feeling or natural courtesy. The people who covered the island appeared perfectly destitute of shame, or even of a sense of common decency. Many were almost naked, still more but partially clothed. We turned in disgust from the revolting scene, but were unable to leave the spot until the captain had satisfied a noisy group of his own people, who were demanding a supply of stores.\r\n\r\nAnd here I must observe that our passengers, who were chiefly honest Scotch labourers and mechanics from the vicinity of Edinburgh, and who while on board ship had conducted themselves with the greatest propriety, and appeared the most quiet, orderly set of people in the world, no sooner set foot upon the island than they became infected by the same spirit of insubordination and misrule, and were just as insolent and noisy as the rest.\r\n\r\nWhile our captain was vainly endeavouring to satisfy the unreasonable demands of his rebellious people, Moodie had discovered a woodland path that led to the back of the island. Sheltered by some hazel-bushes from the intense heat of the sun, we sat down by the cool, gushing river, out of sight, but, alas! not out of hearing of the noisy, riotous crowd. Could we have shut out the profane sounds which came to us on every breeze, how deeply should we have enjoyed an hour amid the tranquil beauties of that retired and lovely spot!\r\n\r\nThe rocky banks of the island were adorned with beautiful evergreens, which sprang up spontaneously in every nook and crevice. I remarked many of our favourite garden shrubs among these wildings of nature: the fillagree, with its narrow, dark glossy-green leaves; the privet, with its modest white blossoms and purple berries; the lignum-vitae, with its strong resinous odour; the burnet-rose, and a great variety of elegant unknowns.\r\n\r\nHere, the shores of the island and mainland, receding from each other, formed a small cove, overhung with lofty trees, clothed from the base to the summit with wild vines, that hung in graceful festoons from the topmost branches to the water's edge. The dark shadows of the mountains, thrown upon the water, as they towered to the height of some thousand feet above us, gave to the surface of the river an ebon hue. The sunbeams, dancing through the thick, quivering foliage, fell in stars of gold, or long lines of dazzling brightness, upon the deep black waters, producing the most novel and beautiful effects. It was a scene over which the spirit of peace might brood in silent adoration; but how spoiled by the discordant yells of the filthy beings who were sullying the purity of the air and water with contaminating sights and sounds!\r\n\r\nWe were now joined by the sergeant, who very kindly brought us his capful of ripe plums and hazel-nuts, the growth of the island; a joyful present, but marred by a note from Captain \u2014\u2014, who had found that he had been mistaken in his supposed knowledge of us, and politely apologised for not being allowed by the health-officers to receive any emigrant beyond the bounds appointed for the performance of quarantine.\r\n\r\nI was deeply disappointed, but my husband laughingly told me that I had seen enough of the island; and turning to the good-natured soldier, remarked, that \u201cit could be no easy task to keep such wild savages in order.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou may well say that, sir\u2014but our night scenes far exceed those of the day. You would think they were incarnate devils; singing, drinking, dancing, shouting, and cutting antics that would surprise the leader of a circus. They have no shame\u2014are under no restraint\u2014nobody knows them here, and they think they can speak and act as they please; and they are such thieves that they rob one another of the little they possess. The healthy actually run the risk of taking the cholera by robbing the sick. If you have not hired one or two stout, honest fellows from among your fellow passengers to guard your clothes while they are drying, you will never see half of them again. They are a sad set, sir, a sad set. We could, perhaps, manage the men; but the women, sir!\u2014the women! Oh, sir!\u201d\r\n\r\nAnxious as we were to return to the ship, we were obliged to remain until sun-down in our retired nook. We were hungry, tired, and out of spirits; the mosquitoes swarmed in myriads around us, tormenting the poor baby, who, not at all pleased with her first visit to the new world, filled the air with cries, when the captain came to tell us that the boat was ready. It was a welcome sound. Forcing our way once more through the still squabbling crowd, we gained the landing place. Here we encountered a boat, just landing a fresh cargo of lively savages from the Emerald Isle. One fellow, of gigantic proportions, whose long, tattered great-coat just reached below the middle of his bare red legs, and, like charity, hid the defects of his other garments, or perhaps concealed his want of them, leaped upon the rocks, and flourishing aloft his shilelagh, bounded and capered like a wild goat from his native mountains. \u201cWhurrah! my boys!\u201d he cried, \u201cShure we'll all be jintlemen!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cPull away, my lads!\u201d said the captain. Then turning to me, \u201cWell, Mrs. Moodie, I hope that you have had enough of Grosse Isle. But could you have witnessed the scenes that I did this morning\u2014\u201d\r\n\r\nHere he was interrupted by the wife of the old Scotch dragoon, Mackenzie, running down to the boat and laying her hand familiarly upon his shoulder, \u201cCaptain, dinna forget.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cForget what?\u201d\r\n\r\nShe whispered something confidentially in his ear.\r\n\r\n\u201cOh, ho! the brandy!\u201d he responded aloud. \u201cI should have thought, Mrs. Mackenzie, that you had had enough of that same on yon island?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAye, sic a place for decent folk,\u201d returned the drunken body, shaking her head. \u201cOne needs a drap o' comfort, captain, to keep up one's heart ava.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe captain set up one of his boisterous laughs as he pushed the boat from the shore. \u201cHollo! Sam Frazer! steer in, we have forgotten the stores.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI hope not, captain,\u201d said I; \u201cI have been starving since daybreak.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe bread, the butter, the beef, the onions, and potatoes are here, sir,\u201d said honest Sam, particularizing each article.\r\n\r\n\u201cAll right; pull for the ship. Mrs. Moodie, we will have a glorious supper, and mind you don't dream of Grosse Isle.\u201d\r\n\r\nIn a few minutes we were again on board. Thus ended my first day's experience of the land of all our hopes.\r\n

OH! CAN YOU LEAVE YOUR NATIVE LAND?<\/strong>\r\nA Canadian Song<\/p>\r\nOh! can you leave your native land\r\nAn exile's bride to be;\r\nYour mother's home, and cheerful hearth,\r\nTo tempt the main with me;\r\nAcross the wide and stormy sea\r\nTo trace our foaming track,\r\nAnd know the wave that heaves us on\r\nWill never bear us back?\r\n\r\nAnd can you in Canadian woods\r\nWith me the harvest bind,\r\nNor feel one lingering, sad regret\r\nFor all you leave behind?\r\nCan those dear hands, unused to toil,\r\nThe woodman's wants supply,\r\nNor shrink beneath the chilly blast\r\nWhen wintry storms are nigh?\r\n\r\nAmid the shades of forests dark,\r\nOur loved isle will appear\r\nAn Eden, whose delicious bloom\r\nWill make the wild more drear.\r\nAnd you in solitude will weep\r\nO'er scenes beloved in vain,\r\nAnd pine away your life to view\r\nOnce more your native plain.\r\n\r\nThen pause, dear girl! ere those fond lips\r\nYour wanderer's fate decide;\r\nMy spirit spurns the selfish wish\u2014\r\nYou must not be my bride.\r\nBut oh, that smile\u2014those tearful eyes,\r\nMy firmer purpose move\u2014\r\nOur hearts are one, and we will dare\r\nAll perils thus to love!\r\n\r\n(This song has been set to a beautiful plaintive air, by my husband.)","rendered":"

\n

Alas! that man’s stern spirit e’er should mar
\nA scene so pure\u2014so exquisite as this.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The dreadful cholera was depopulating Quebec and Montreal when our ship cast anchor off Grosse Isle, on the 30th of August 1832, and we were boarded a few minutes after by the health-officers.<\/p>\n

One of these gentlemen\u2014a little, shrivelled-up Frenchman\u2014from his solemn aspect and attenuated figure, would have made no bad representative of him who sat upon the pale horse. He was the only grave Frenchman I had ever seen, and I naturally enough regarded him as a phenomenon. His companion\u2014a fine-looking fair-haired Scotchman\u2014though a little consequential in his manners, looked like one who in his own person could combat and vanquish all the evils which flesh is heir to. Such was the contrast between these doctors, that they would have formed very good emblems, one, of vigorous health, the other, of hopeless decay.<\/p>\n

Our captain, a rude, blunt north-country sailor, possessing certainly not more politeness than might be expected in a bear, received his sprucely dressed visitors on the deck, and, with very little courtesy, abruptly bade them follow him down into the cabin.<\/p>\n

The officials were no sooner seated, than glancing hastily round the place, they commenced the following dialogue:\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom what port, captain?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, the captain had a peculiar language of his own, from which he commonly expunged all the connecting links. Small words, such as \u201cand\u201d and \u201cthe,\u201d he contrived to dispense with altogether.<\/p>\n

\u201cScotland\u2014sailed from port o’ Leith, bound for Quebec, Montreal\u2014 general cargo\u2014seventy-two steerage, four cabin passengers\u2014brig Anne, one hundred and ninety-two tons burden, crew eight hands.\u201d<\/p>\n

Here he produced his credentials, and handed them to the strangers. The Scotchman just glanced over the documents, and laid them on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHad you a good passage out?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTedious, baffling winds, heavy fogs, detained three weeks on Banks\u2014foul weather making Gulf\u2014short of water, people out of provisions, steerage passengers starving.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny case of sickness or death on board?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll sound as crickets.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny births?\u201d lisped the little Frenchman.<\/p>\n

The captain screwed up his mouth, and after a moment’s reflection he replied, \u201cBirths? Why, yes; now I think on’t, gentlemen, we had one female on board, who produced three at a birth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat’s uncommon,\u201d said the Scotch doctor, with an air of lively curiosity. \u201cAre the children alive and well? I should like much to see them.\u201d He started up, and knocked his head\u2014for he was very tall\u2014against the ceiling. \u201cConfound your low cribs! I have nearly dashed out my brains.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA hard task, that,\u201d looked the captain to me. He did not speak, but I knew by his sarcastic grin what was uppermost in his thoughts. \u201cThe young ones all males\u2014fine thriving fellows. Step upon deck, Sam Frazer,\u201d turning to his steward; \u201cbring them down for doctors to see.\u201d Sam vanished, with a knowing wink to his superior, and quickly returned, bearing in his arms three fat, chuckle-headed bull-terriers, the sagacious mother following close at his heels, and looked ready to give and take offence on the slightest provocation.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere, gentlemen, are the babies,\u201d said Frazer, depositing his burden on the floor. \u201cThey do credit to the nursing of the brindled slut.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old tar laughed, chuckled, and rubbed his hands in an ecstacy of delight at the indignation and disappointment visible in the countenance of the Scotch Esculapius, who, angry as he was, wisely held his tongue. Not so the Frenchman; his rage scarcely knew bounds\u2014he danced in a state of most ludicrous excitement, he shook his fist at our rough captain, and screamed at the top of his voice\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cSacre, you bete! You tink us dog, ven you try to pass your puppies on us for babies?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHout, man, don’t be angry,\u201d said the Scotchman, stifling a laugh; \u201cyou see ’tis only a joke!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoke! me no understand such joke. Bete!\u201d returned the angry Frenchman, bestowing a savage kick on one of the unoffending pups which was frisking about his feet. The pup yelped; the slut barked and leaped furiously at the offender, and was only kept from biting him by Sam, who could scarcely hold her back for laughing; the captain was uproarious; the offended Frenchman alone maintained a severe and dignified aspect. The dogs were at length dismissed, and peace restored.<\/p>\n

After some further questioning from the officials, a Bible was required for the captain to take an oath. Mine was mislaid, and there was none at hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cConfound it!\u201d muttered the old sailor, tossing over the papers in his desk; \u201cthat scoundrel, Sam, always stows my traps out of the way.\u201d Then taking up from the table a book which I had been reading, which happened to be Voltaire’s History of Charles XII., he presented it, with as grave an air as he could assume, to the Frenchman. Taking for granted that it was the volume required, the little doctor was too polite to open the book, the captain was duly sworn, and the party returned to the deck.<\/p>\n

Here a new difficulty occurred, which nearly ended in a serious quarrel. The gentlemen requested the old sailor to give them a few feet of old planking, to repair some damage which their boat had sustained the day before. This the captain could not do. They seemed to think his refusal intentional, and took it as a personal affront. In no very gentle tones, they ordered him instantly to prepare his boats, and put his passengers on shore.<\/p>\n

\u201cStiff breeze\u2014short sea,\u201d returned the bluff old seaman; \u201cgreat risk in making land\u2014boats heavily laden with women and children will be swamped. Not a soul goes on shore this night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you refuse to comply with our orders, we will report you to the authorities.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know my duty\u2014you stick to yours. When the wind falls off, I’ll see to it. Not a life shall be risked to please you or your authorities.\u201d<\/p>\n

He turned upon his heel, and the medical men left the vessel in great disdain. We had every reason to be thankful for the firmness displayed by our rough commander. That same evening we saw eleven persons drowned, from another vessel close beside us while attempting to make the shore.<\/p>\n

By daybreak all was hurry and confusion on board the Anne. I watched boat after boat depart for the island, full of people and goods, and envied them the glorious privilege of once more standing firmly on the earth, after two long months of rocking and rolling at sea. How ardently we anticipate pleasure, which often ends in positive pain! Such was my case when at last indulged in the gratification so eagerly desired. As cabin passengers, we were not included in the general order of purification, but were only obliged to send our servant, with the clothes and bedding we had used during the voyage, on shore, to be washed.<\/p>\n

The ship was soon emptied of all her live cargo. My husband went off with the boats, to reconnoitre the island, and I was left alone with my baby in the otherwise empty vessel. Even Oscar, the Captain’s Scotch terrier, who had formed a devoted attachment to me during the voyage, forgot his allegiance, became possessed of the land mania, and was away with the rest. With the most intense desire to go on shore, I was doomed to look and long and envy every boatful of emigrants that glided past. Nor was this all; the ship was out of provisions, and I was condemned to undergo a rigid fast until the return of the boat, when the captain had promised a supply of fresh butter and bread. The vessel had been nine weeks at sea; the poor steerage passengers for the two last weeks had been out of food, and the captain had been obliged to feed them from the ship’s stores. The promised bread was to be obtained from a small steam-boat, which plied daily between Quebec and the island, transporting convalescent emigrants and their goods in her upward trip, and provisions for the sick on her return.<\/p>\n

How I reckoned on once more tasting bread and butter! The very thought of the treat in store served to sharpen my appetite, and render the long fast more irksome. I could now fully realise all Mrs. Bowdich’s longings for English bread and butter, after her three years’ travel through the burning African deserts, with her talented husband.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen we arrived at the hotel at Plymouth,\u201d said she, \u201cand were asked what refreshment we chose\u2014’Tea, and home-made bread and butter,’ was my instant reply. ‘Brown bread, if you please, and plenty of it.’ I never enjoyed any luxury like it. I was positively ashamed of asking the waiter to refill the plate. After the execrable messes, and the hard ship-biscuit, imagine the luxury of a good slice of English bread and butter!\u201d<\/p>\n

At home, I laughed heartily at the lively energy with which that charming woman of genius related this little incident in her eventful history\u2014but off Grosse Isle, I realised it all.<\/p>\n

As the sun rose above the horizon, all these matter-of-fact circumstances were gradually forgotten, and merged in the surpassing grandeur of the scene that rose majestically before me. The previous day had been dark and stormy, and a heavy fog had concealed the mountain chain, which forms the stupendous background to this sublime view, entirely from our sight. As the clouds rolled away from their grey, bald brows, and cast into denser shadow the vast forest belt that girdled them round, they loomed out like mighty giants\u2014Titans of the earth, in all their rugged and awful beauty\u2014a thrill of wonder and delight pervaded my mind. The spectacle floated dimly on my sight\u2014my eyes were blinded with tears\u2014blinded with the excess of beauty. I turned to the right and to the left, I looked up and down the glorious river; never had I beheld so many striking objects blended into one mighty whole! Nature had lavished all her noblest features in producing that enchanting scene.<\/p>\n

The rocky isle in front, with its neat farm-houses at the eastern point, and its high bluff at the western extremity, crowned with the telegraph\u2014the middle space occupied by tents and sheds for the cholera patients, and its wooded shores dotted over with motley groups\u2014added greatly to the picturesque effect of the land scene. Then the broad, glittering river, covered with boats darting to and fro, conveying passengers from twenty-five vessels, of various size and tonnage, which rode at anchor, with their flags flying from the mast-head, gave an air of life and interest to the whole. Turning to the south side of the St. Lawrence, I was not less struck with its low fertile shores, white houses, and neat churches, whose slender spires and bright tin roofs shone like silver as they caught the first rays of the sun. As far as the eye could reach, a line of white buildings extended along the bank; their background formed by the purple hue of the dense, interminable forest. It was a scene unlike any I had ever beheld, and to which Britain contains no parallel. Mackenzie, an old Scotch dragoon, who was one of our passengers, when he rose in the morning, and saw the parish of St. Thomas for the first time, exclaimed: \u201cWeel, it beats a’! Can thae white clouts be a’ houses? They look like claes hung out to drie!\u201d There was some truth in this odd comparison, and for some minutes, I could scarcely convince myself that the white patches scattered so thickly over the opposite shore could be the dwellings of a busy, lively population.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat sublime views of the north side of the river those habitans of St. Thomas must enjoy,\u201d thought I. Perhaps familiarity with the scene has rendered them indifferent to its astonishing beauty.<\/p>\n

Eastward, the view down the St. Lawrence towards the Gulf, is the finest of all, scarcely surpassed by anything in the world. Your eye follows the long range of lofty mountains until their blue summits are blended and lost in the blue of the sky. Some of these, partially cleared round the base, are sprinkled over with neat cottages; and the green slopes that spread around them are covered with flocks and herds. The surface of the splendid river is diversified with islands of every size and shape, some in wood, others partially cleared, and adorned with orchards and white farm-houses. As the early sun streamed upon the most prominent of these, leaving the others in deep shade, the effect was strangely novel and imposing. In more remote regions, where the forest has never yet echoed to the woodman’s axe, or received the impress of civilisation, the first approach to the shore inspires a melancholy awe, which becomes painful in its intensity.<\/p>\n

Land of vast hills and mighty streams,
\nThe lofty sun that o’er thee beams
\nOn fairer clime sheds not his ray,
\nWhen basking in the noon of day
\nThy waters dance in silver light,
\nAnd o’er them frowning, dark as night,
\nThy shadowy forests, soaring high,
\nStretch forth beyond the aching eye,
\nAnd blend in distance with the sky.<\/p>\n

And silence\u2014awful silence broods
\nProfoundly o’er these solitudes;
\nNought but the lapsing of the floods
\nBreaks the deep stillness of the woods;
\nA sense of desolation reigns
\nO’er these unpeopled forest plains.
\nWhere sounds of life ne’er wake a tone
\nOf cheerful praise round Nature’s throne,
\nMan finds himself with God\u2014alone.<\/p>\n

My daydreams were dispelled by the return of the boat, which brought my husband and the captain from the island.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo bread,\u201d said the latter, shaking his head; \u201cyou must be content to starve a little longer. Provision-ship not in till four o’clock.\u201d My husband smiled at the look of blank disappointment with which I received these unwelcome tidings, \u201cNever mind, I have news which will comfort you. The officer who commands the station sent a note to me by an orderly, inviting us to spend the afternoon with him. He promises to show us everything worthy of notice on the island. Captain \u2014\u2014 claims acquaintance with me; but I have not the least recollection of him. Would you like to go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, by all means. I long to see the lovely island. It looks a perfect paradise at this distance.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rough sailor-captain screwed his mouth on one side, and gave me one of his comical looks, but he said nothing until he assisted in placing me and the baby in the boat.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t be too sanguine, Mrs. Moodie; many things look well at a distance which are bad enough when near.\u201d<\/p>\n

I scarcely regarded the old sailor’s warning, so eager was I to go on shore\u2014to put my foot upon the soil of the new world for the first time\u2014I was in no humour to listen to any depreciation of what seemed so beautiful.<\/p>\n

It was four o’clock when we landed on the rocks, which the rays of an intensely scorching sun had rendered so hot that I could scarcely place my foot upon them. How the people without shoes bore it, I cannot imagine. Never shall I forget the extraordinary spectacle that met our sight the moment we passed the low range of bushes which formed a screen in front of the river. A crowd of many hundred Irish emigrants had been landed during the present and former day; and all this motley crew\u2014men, women, and children, who were not confined by sickness to the sheds (which greatly resembled cattle-pens) were employed in washing clothes, or spreading them out on the rocks and bushes to dry.<\/p>\n

The men and boys were in the water, while the women, with their scanty garments tucked above their knees, were trampling their bedding in tubs, or in holes in the rocks, which the retiring tide had left half full of water. Those who did not possess washing-tubs, pails, or iron pots, or could not obtain access to a hole in the rocks, were running to and fro, screaming and scolding in no measured terms. The confusion of Babel was among them. All talkers and no hearers\u2014each shouting and yelling in his or her uncouth dialect, and all accompanying their vociferations with violent and extraordinary gestures, quite incomprehensible to the uninitiated. We were literally stunned by the strife of tongues. I shrank, with feelings almost akin to fear, from the hard-featured, sun-burnt harpies, as they elbowed rudely past me.<\/p>\n

I had heard and read much of savages, and have since seen, during my long residence in the bush, somewhat of uncivilised life; but the Indian is one of Nature’s gentlemen\u2014he never says or does a rude or vulgar thing. The vicious, uneducated barbarians who form the surplus of over-populous European countries, are far behind the wild man in delicacy of feeling or natural courtesy. The people who covered the island appeared perfectly destitute of shame, or even of a sense of common decency. Many were almost naked, still more but partially clothed. We turned in disgust from the revolting scene, but were unable to leave the spot until the captain had satisfied a noisy group of his own people, who were demanding a supply of stores.<\/p>\n

And here I must observe that our passengers, who were chiefly honest Scotch labourers and mechanics from the vicinity of Edinburgh, and who while on board ship had conducted themselves with the greatest propriety, and appeared the most quiet, orderly set of people in the world, no sooner set foot upon the island than they became infected by the same spirit of insubordination and misrule, and were just as insolent and noisy as the rest.<\/p>\n

While our captain was vainly endeavouring to satisfy the unreasonable demands of his rebellious people, Moodie had discovered a woodland path that led to the back of the island. Sheltered by some hazel-bushes from the intense heat of the sun, we sat down by the cool, gushing river, out of sight, but, alas! not out of hearing of the noisy, riotous crowd. Could we have shut out the profane sounds which came to us on every breeze, how deeply should we have enjoyed an hour amid the tranquil beauties of that retired and lovely spot!<\/p>\n

The rocky banks of the island were adorned with beautiful evergreens, which sprang up spontaneously in every nook and crevice. I remarked many of our favourite garden shrubs among these wildings of nature: the fillagree, with its narrow, dark glossy-green leaves; the privet, with its modest white blossoms and purple berries; the lignum-vitae, with its strong resinous odour; the burnet-rose, and a great variety of elegant unknowns.<\/p>\n

Here, the shores of the island and mainland, receding from each other, formed a small cove, overhung with lofty trees, clothed from the base to the summit with wild vines, that hung in graceful festoons from the topmost branches to the water’s edge. The dark shadows of the mountains, thrown upon the water, as they towered to the height of some thousand feet above us, gave to the surface of the river an ebon hue. The sunbeams, dancing through the thick, quivering foliage, fell in stars of gold, or long lines of dazzling brightness, upon the deep black waters, producing the most novel and beautiful effects. It was a scene over which the spirit of peace might brood in silent adoration; but how spoiled by the discordant yells of the filthy beings who were sullying the purity of the air and water with contaminating sights and sounds!<\/p>\n

We were now joined by the sergeant, who very kindly brought us his capful of ripe plums and hazel-nuts, the growth of the island; a joyful present, but marred by a note from Captain \u2014\u2014, who had found that he had been mistaken in his supposed knowledge of us, and politely apologised for not being allowed by the health-officers to receive any emigrant beyond the bounds appointed for the performance of quarantine.<\/p>\n

I was deeply disappointed, but my husband laughingly told me that I had seen enough of the island; and turning to the good-natured soldier, remarked, that \u201cit could be no easy task to keep such wild savages in order.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou may well say that, sir\u2014but our night scenes far exceed those of the day. You would think they were incarnate devils; singing, drinking, dancing, shouting, and cutting antics that would surprise the leader of a circus. They have no shame\u2014are under no restraint\u2014nobody knows them here, and they think they can speak and act as they please; and they are such thieves that they rob one another of the little they possess. The healthy actually run the risk of taking the cholera by robbing the sick. If you have not hired one or two stout, honest fellows from among your fellow passengers to guard your clothes while they are drying, you will never see half of them again. They are a sad set, sir, a sad set. We could, perhaps, manage the men; but the women, sir!\u2014the women! Oh, sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

Anxious as we were to return to the ship, we were obliged to remain until sun-down in our retired nook. We were hungry, tired, and out of spirits; the mosquitoes swarmed in myriads around us, tormenting the poor baby, who, not at all pleased with her first visit to the new world, filled the air with cries, when the captain came to tell us that the boat was ready. It was a welcome sound. Forcing our way once more through the still squabbling crowd, we gained the landing place. Here we encountered a boat, just landing a fresh cargo of lively savages from the Emerald Isle. One fellow, of gigantic proportions, whose long, tattered great-coat just reached below the middle of his bare red legs, and, like charity, hid the defects of his other garments, or perhaps concealed his want of them, leaped upon the rocks, and flourishing aloft his shilelagh, bounded and capered like a wild goat from his native mountains. \u201cWhurrah! my boys!\u201d he cried, \u201cShure we’ll all be jintlemen!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPull away, my lads!\u201d said the captain. Then turning to me, \u201cWell, Mrs. Moodie, I hope that you have had enough of Grosse Isle. But could you have witnessed the scenes that I did this morning\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Here he was interrupted by the wife of the old Scotch dragoon, Mackenzie, running down to the boat and laying her hand familiarly upon his shoulder, \u201cCaptain, dinna forget.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cForget what?\u201d<\/p>\n

She whispered something confidentially in his ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, ho! the brandy!\u201d he responded aloud. \u201cI should have thought, Mrs. Mackenzie, that you had had enough of that same on yon island?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, sic a place for decent folk,\u201d returned the drunken body, shaking her head. \u201cOne needs a drap o’ comfort, captain, to keep up one’s heart ava.\u201d<\/p>\n

The captain set up one of his boisterous laughs as he pushed the boat from the shore. \u201cHollo! Sam Frazer! steer in, we have forgotten the stores.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope not, captain,\u201d said I; \u201cI have been starving since daybreak.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe bread, the butter, the beef, the onions, and potatoes are here, sir,\u201d said honest Sam, particularizing each article.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right; pull for the ship. Mrs. Moodie, we will have a glorious supper, and mind you don’t dream of Grosse Isle.\u201d<\/p>\n

In a few minutes we were again on board. Thus ended my first day’s experience of the land of all our hopes.<\/p>\n

OH! CAN YOU LEAVE YOUR NATIVE LAND?<\/strong>
\nA Canadian Song<\/p>\n

Oh! can you leave your native land
\nAn exile’s bride to be;
\nYour mother’s home, and cheerful hearth,
\nTo tempt the main with me;
\nAcross the wide and stormy sea
\nTo trace our foaming track,
\nAnd know the wave that heaves us on
\nWill never bear us back?<\/p>\n

And can you in Canadian woods
\nWith me the harvest bind,
\nNor feel one lingering, sad regret
\nFor all you leave behind?
\nCan those dear hands, unused to toil,
\nThe woodman’s wants supply,
\nNor shrink beneath the chilly blast
\nWhen wintry storms are nigh?<\/p>\n

Amid the shades of forests dark,
\nOur loved isle will appear
\nAn Eden, whose delicious bloom
\nWill make the wild more drear.
\nAnd you in solitude will weep
\nO’er scenes beloved in vain,
\nAnd pine away your life to view
\nOnce more your native plain.<\/p>\n

Then pause, dear girl! ere those fond lips
\nYour wanderer’s fate decide;
\nMy spirit spurns the selfish wish\u2014
\nYou must not be my bride.
\nBut oh, that smile\u2014those tearful eyes,
\nMy firmer purpose move\u2014
\nOur hearts are one, and we will dare
\nAll perils thus to love!<\/p>\n

(This song has been set to a beautiful plaintive air, by my husband.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":3,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-55","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/55","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/55\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":249,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/55\/revisions\/249"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/55\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=55"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=55"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=55"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/roughingitinthebush\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=55"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}