With Nothing But Our Courage

by Karleen Bradford

  May 14th, 1784

  Still here and it would seem that we will be here for quite a while longer. I do not know how we will stand it. Father is worried, too, because we have only been issued with supplies for a month, although we have been assured that more supplies will follow us. They did give him ammunition, though, so he will be able to hunt. We had been promised more clothing, too, but it seems that the difficulties of distributing clothing are too great. I really do not understand that. I only understand that I have but one threadbare dress and my coat is in tatters. My stockings have been darned and mended until they are stiff. My boots will surely not last another month. Everyone else is in the same straits.

  There are not enough boats assembled yet. Captain Jacob Maurer is in charge and he has been busy all winter, so we have been told, building bateaux and procuring other boats from wherever he can find them. Meanwhile, we all live in tents issued to us by the army. We have only one tent for our whole family. It is large, but at night the five of us are quite squashed up together. We don’t really mind because the nights are still cold. Mother makes Laddie sleep outside, though, and Jamie is not happy about that.

  Hannah and her family are right beside us this time.

  May 16th, 1784

  Grannie’s little lilac bush has bloomed! Only one small spray of blossoms, but that spray is large enough that the spindly stem it is on is bent almost to the ground. I just shut my eyes and bury my nose in the deep purple blossoms and inhale great wafts of their smell, and for a moment or two I can almost believe I am home and all of this has just been one long bad dream.

  But then I have to open my eyes.

  May 18th, 1784

  I am too cold and wet to write much. It has been raining constantly, with the result that we have had no fire and have had to make do with cold johnnycake and salt pork to eat. The mud all around our camp is so deep that we cannot move around very much. Just going over to Hannah’s tent today I got the remains of my boots so muddy that Grannie made me take them off before I came into the tent. Even that did not help as my boots are so full of holes that my feet were just as filthy.

  Grannie fights against dirt and mud constantly but I do not think she will win.

  May 20th, 1784

  Some Indian men came into camp today and brought fresh fish. They wanted to trade for flour but of course none of us had any to spare. They left the fish anyway, which I think was very kind of them.

  The rain has stopped. Father built a lovely fire. I collected dandelion greens for a salad and Mother boiled fish with potatoes and turnips and some of Grannie’s herbs. The turnips were a little mouldy but I cut the bad parts off and we had a wonderful feast.

  May 21st, 1784

  Some of the men who will be sailing the boats in which we will go upriver got drinking and wild last night. They are getting as impatient as we are. Grannie made Jamie and me go into our tent and stay there. She wouldn’t even let me out to go into the bush to relieve myself until I convinced her that it was absolutely necessary! Then Jamie declared he had to go, too, and Mother said we couldn’t go alone, and Father said he had better keep a watch out, so it was a regular parade into the bushes to the latrine. With Laddie bouncing around us and barking his big head off too, of course.

  Very embarrassing.

  May 25th, 1784

  Finally! The boats are ready and are being loaded. It is reassuring to see all the supplies that are being sent along with us. As I write this, sitting on the riverbank and watching all the commotion, I can see the soldiers loading on tents and bales of cloth (a new dress this summer perhaps?) and hoes and axes and other tools. Boxes of provisions as well, and seed for planting, although Father, who is standing beside me, is worried that we will not be settled in time to plant our crops this year.

  We leave tomorrow.

  May 30th, 1784

  Somewhere on the St. Lawrence River

  This is the first chance I have had to write in my journal since we left. What a journey this is turning out to be!

  The bateau in which we are travelling is like the one we sailed Lake Champlain in, but flat-bottomed to make it easier to drag through the rapids. Which we had to do immediately after setting off from Lachine. I will write of that later.

  The bateau is manned by five sailors, as was the Lake Champlain one, but these men are French-Canadians. We say “Bon jour” to them every morning. That means “Good morning.”

  Again, we are packed in so tightly there is scarce room to breathe. As before, there are four families in the boat — including the Rosses, thanks be — and all our belongings. It is a mercy that we do not have much. There are twelve other bateaux travelling with us in a kind of brigade. All of us are families of men in Sir John Johnson’s Regiment and we will settle together. That is reassuring because we have gotten to know each other well over the past winter.

  At night we come onshore and make our camp. It is really quite pleasant after the dirt and confusion of the camp at Lachine. As I sit here I am warmed by the fire and can see the boatmen cooking our dinner. One of them shot a brace of squirrels and the stew they are making smells wonderful. The weather has turned warmer, which is good in one way, but bad in another. The insects have begun to torment us. They are just as bad here as they were back home. Tiny black flies manage to get into my hair, my ears, down the neck of my dress — everywhere! And how they bite! I am scratching as much as writing at the moment. For shelter we have boat sails and tarpaulins slung over branches, but as long as it doesn’t rain they are sufficient.

  The sound of the river is in my ears as I write and I can see the moonlight shining off its waters. It is very beautiful.

  June 1784

  June 1st, 1784

  The boatmen sing constantly as we go along. Even though the boats have sails, they mostly have to row because the wind is against us from the west and we are going into a very strong current.

  This is actually a very pleasant way to travel. Except for the insects. When we put in to shore for our noon meal we are immediately attacked by the black flies and mosquitoes, and the flies descend in such droves to cover our food that it is hard to take a bite without crunching down on one of them.

  June 3rd, 1784

  More rapids today. We have just finished going through them and are camped for our noon meal. The boatmen have made a huge bonfire in order to dry out, as several of them got very wet. One of the men slipped and fell right into the water and I heard him shout out something that I suspect might have been a swear word. Perhaps it is just as well that I haven’t learned too much French!

  The first time we went through rapids I was quite frightened, certain that all the boats were going to be lost. It is still frightening, but so far we have managed without mishap. Now I’ll describe how it is done.

  When we reach the beginning of the rapids, we passengers all disembark and take whatever is most precious to us, in case one of the boats does tip. These items we have to carry. There is a man called a conductor who is in charge of all the boats. His duty is to give directions for the safe management of the boats and keep them together whilst we are on the river. When we come to a rapids he directs the passage of the boats through, one by one. Two men stay in each boat to pole it. The others get out and walk along the shore and pull the boat through with ropes. The other Loyalist men help as well, and Father is always right in there with them.

  The reason it is so frightening is because the rapids are so very powerful. I cannot help but fear for the safety of the men in the boats. If a boat ever tipped the man would be thrown into the rushing water and surely dashed to pieces on the rocks. One of the boats almost tipped today. We all stood with our hearts in our mouths until the men got it under control again.

  They are brave men, those sailors.

  They are distributing our bowls of soup now. I will have to stop writing.

  Later

  A near disaster! After our noon meal the boatmen began to load the boats up again and we began to g
ather up our possessions and take them down to the shore. No one noticed that the bonfire was spreading. All of a sudden there was a great outcry from one of the boatmen and we all rushed to see the fire racing through the leaves on the ground and heading for the forest.

  Everyone grabbed up tarpaulins, blankets, anything they could reach, and began beating at the flames. I even beat at them with my blanket until Grannie saw me and pulled me away. Thank goodness the ground is not too dry yet and the flames were soon under control. I was quite sooty, but well pleased with myself. It was a very satisfying feeling to batter out that fire.

  June 7th, 1784

  Johnstown!

  Well, we are here. I can hardly believe it. Johnstown is no more than a collection of tents strewn along the riverside. We have been given two. Father and Mother share a small one, Jamie, Grannie and I share the larger. (And Laddie, when Grannie is not looking.) The Rosses, as usual, are close beside us.

  About twenty families are to settle here; the rest have continued upriver. Mr. Mitchell went with them. He is going to Cataraqui where there is already a school built. I will not miss him, but I wonder how long it will be until a school is built here? There is nothing at all so far.

  I am being called. I must help with supper.

  Everyone is strangely quiet. We are tired, of course, but I think it is more than that. Our long journey is finally over. What will happen now?

  June 10th, 1784

  Food is being distributed, but no clothing yet. I don’t care. It was beautifully warm today and Hannah and I raced along the riverbank in just our old dresses and our bare feet. Who needs boots now?

  Mother is busy organizing the food and supplies that we have been given, but every once in a while she just stops and gazes out at the forest all around us with a despairing look. Last night I heard her ask Father, “How, Robert, are we ever to make our home here? It is nothing but a wilderness!”

  Father tried to reassure her, but it did not seem to help. It is hard to believe that this wild place can ever be home.

  June 12th, 1784

  They are surveying the land. When they are finished, Father says, all the families will draw lots for which piece of land we will own. As the head of a family, Father will get 100 acres, and Angus will get another 100 acres as well because he was a soldier. The rest of us in the family will also get 50 acres each, including Jamie and me. Uncle Allan will be entitled to 200 acres because he is a non-commissioned officer. It sounded very generous to me, but Mother had something to say about that.

  “Generous indeed,” she burst out. “When we have lost everything we owned, everything we ever worked for all these years because of our allegiance to Britain? And my baby —”

  She broke off. I reached out to her but before I could say anything she gave herself a shake and straightened up. Her mouth got all grim looking.

  “We’ve earned everything Britain can give us,” she said. I had not thought of it that way. It made me feel sad all over again.

  Father, Uncle Andrew and Uncle Allan are scouting out the woods each day. They would like to get adjoining lots and are looking for someplace with a stream running near it. I supposed Duncan would be entitled to 100 acres, too, and I suggested to Father that he look for a lot near us for him. Now Father is teasing me mercilessly, saying that I must be sweet on him. What nonsense! I was only thinking of Duncan’s friendship with Angus.

  June 14th, 1784

  Father is worrying. The summer is wearing on and they have not yet finished surveying the lots. It will surely be too late to plant crops by the time we are settled. We will have to depend on Government supplies for the winter, Father says. He hates that!

  June 21st, 1784

  The wait grows wearisome. There is nothing for us to do. Hannah and I amuse ourselves by exploring along the river shore, but Father and the others are fretting about the delay.

  Grannie, of course, is never idle. She is out early every morning replenishing her supply of roots and herbs. This morning she took Hannah and me along as well.

  “High time you girls learned about these things,” she said.

  It is very interesting. Some plants will not be ready for picking until September or October, Grannie says, but there are many that we can harvest now. You would never know what is growing wild out there if you didn’t have someone like Grannie to show you. I will make a list of the ones I know:

  Spikenard for coughs and colds.

  Bloodroot for sore noses.

  Catnip for stomachache or sore throat.

  Tansy tea as a tonic. (I know this one too well. It tastes terrible! Grannie thinks the worse a medicine tastes the better it is for you.)

  Hop tea for regulating the blood. (How do you “regulate the blood”? What in the world does that mean? I asked Grannie, but she just shushed me.)

  Black alder mixed with lard, resin and beeswax for scalds and burns. (I’ve had enough of those!)

  Smartweed steeped in vinegar for bruises and swellings. (That’s what we put on Jamie’s head when he slid off the roof.) Sometimes wormwood is used instead. Especially for the legs of horses. I remember we used that once on old Blue.

  Now I’m remembering old Blue and missing him.

  Back to the herbs:

  Burdock, a weed that mother detested because it insisted on invading her kitchen garden. Grannie steeped the dried leaves of it and gave it to Mother whenever she had indigestion, though, and it always seemed to help, so I suppose it could not be all bad.

  Spearmint tea and mullein tea for colds.

  Elecampane for open wounds. When made into a syrup it is supposed to help children suffering from whooping cough. (Thanks be we have not had need of that in this family.)

  There is also something called nerve-vine. Grannie once tried to get me to chew the roots of it to “quieten my nerves,” but I managed to talk her out of it by promising to be exceptionally quiet without it. (I don’t believe I have nerves!)

  And back to wormwood. Grannie makes a tea out of it that she gives to us if all else fails. It is so bitter it makes tansy tea taste sweet! When I smell wormwood tea brewing I take myself off no matter how sickly I feel.

  June 23rd, 1784

  Good news from Angus! His battalion is being disbanded and he will be here with us before the end of the month.

  He didn’t mention Duncan.

  June 30th, 1784

  Angus is here, and so is Duncan! Mother is smiling again and even Grannie is in a good mood. Father says they will be drawing the lots very soon and it is about time!

  I have had a wonderful surprise — Angus brought me a kitten! She is all black with white paws so I have named her Mittens. She is the tiniest thing I have ever seen, but very brave. Laddie had to sniff her over as soon as he saw her, of course, and you would think she would have been afraid of such a huge monster — she isn’t even as big as his head — but no such thing. When his sniffing grew a bit too rough, she just arched her back, ruffled up all her fur, spat at him like a little fury, and scratched his nose. He was so surprised! Jamie was most upset and certain that she had hurt Laddie. I found that very amusing, given the difference in their sizes, but I must admit that the dog has been giving her a wide berth ever since. She is curled up on my lap right now, purring away. Amazing that such a loud purr can come forth from such a small animal! It makes writing quite difficult, but I certainly don’t care. It is just so grand to have such a warm, furry little thing to cuddle. I let Hannah hold her, too, of course, and Mother is quite taken with her.

  July 1784

  July 2nd, 1784

  We are all registering for land but there is much skullduggery afoot. It seems that some people are very greedy. Father says that some officers have been registering their children as officers so that they may receive a larger grant. One man registered his month-old baby as a major, and another registered his two dogs as his sons!

  Mittens has decided she wants to play with Laddie. He is very worried about it. I think he fears f
or his nose.

  July 8th, 1784

  Finally! The drawing of the lots will be done today. It is very hard to wait.

  Mittens is curled up asleep between Laddie’s paws. I think he thinks he is her mother now. It is most amusing to watch them together. She pounces on his tail when he is sleeping and he jumps up, ready to do battle, then gets all soft and loony when he sees it’s just the kitten. I would never have believed he could be so gentle.

  Later

  What a day! This settling of lots was a very complicated affair involving a lot of noise and shouting. At one point it seemed that two men might even come to blows when they could not agree on a fair trade.

  This is how it was done. The men drew pieces of paper with numbers of lots out of a hat and then the surveyor entered their lot numbers upon the map that he had drawn. Then everyone started swapping and trading around in order to get the particular lots they wanted. I don’t think I drew breath until we found out which one we would get. The officers got to draw first and got all the land fronting upon the river. After much conniving, Uncle Andrew and Uncle Allan managed to get land near ours. Angus managed to get a lot right next to ours, and Duncan was finally able to swap for a lot nearby as well. It took a whole day of bargaining and bartering and Father is exhausted, but we are all well pleased. There is a good stream going through all our properties and Father says that is a blessing. It will provide us with water without the need for a well right away.