by James Spurr
Laden with Oliver as their principal cargo, the canoe Bemose and Dunlap paddled was the equal in weight to the other two, carrying more supplies in their midsection and manned by only two instead of three searchers. Wasebitong was in the bow of the canoe in the lead, with Trove at the stern. Marie was in the bow of the third canoe, having left first but which was now slipping behind the others, with James in the stern. Marie and James were the least experienced and their clumsy stroke and poor coordination immediately revealed itself in both their speed and course.
With James to starboard half a length, Bemose, while keeping stroke, spoke over her right shoulder to James and Marie. “You see there, on shore, what they call the ‘Mission House?’ All looked to their left, on the shore of Mackinaw Island, as it rather quickly slipped behind them.
Bemose continued, spacing her words between her gestures and work, “The people are uncertain; Reverend Ferry has built classrooms and lodging for native and Metis children.”
Oliver, his breathing easy, offered, “It sounds like a worthwhile project.” After two strokes of his partners, he asked, “When did it open?”
Bemose timed her response, “Two years ago. The people wonder if it is not a school to make them white.”
James asked Bemose, correcting his course yet again, “What do you think?”
Bemose quickly replied, though missed her stroke, “Wasebitong and I visited yesterday. It looked to be a good faith attempt to teach and assist.”
Marie observed, “It appears most obvious to me. All of these different cultures on the Lakes must be shown how to interact with each other.” She missed her stroke, perhaps thinking conversation was a legitimate reason. The canoe strayed from its earlier course.
Bemose nodded as Marie slipped still further behind. Bemose guessed she had time, with the next stroke, to add only one more comment and be assured of being heard, “Wasebitong, I think, understood immediately his advantage, having lived in both worlds since birth.” After her next stroke, she reported, “He was most interested in the Metis children. It must, I think, have occurred to him that he is by birth more of that culture than native.”
Oliver interjected, more loudly so to be heard by those on both craft, “We ought remind him, his father shipped aboard Invincible so to assist the Metis.”
Last in the procession, no one noticed James looking to Dunlap. Bemose wondered, sitting in front of Dunlap and with no way to observe him, whether with that invitation, Dunlap would offer any recollections or details.
She heard only his regular breathing, a capable man hard at work, keeping his silence among a very diverse group of searchers for the remnants and remains of that for which only he had any recall.
The canoes continued a point north of east, crossing the open waters between Mackinaw Island and the northern shore of Lake Huron at a gradual angle given the calm seas.
All noticed, though were too winded to speak of it, a cloud of black smoke darkening the brightening horizon to the south, over their quarter. A steam ship made its way to Mackinaw. Bemose thought of the changes she was witnessing, commerce not so dependent upon wind and weather, the possibility of a flood of persons and cargo not deterred or delayed by the risks presented by vessels under sails or paddles.
Bemose thought of Wasebitong. He was young and strong, excited and enjoying the lead in craft with which his brother was struggling. He gave no offense, but was simply demonstrating his competence with a part of the expedition well familiar to him. Bemose and Wasebitong had made the canoe trip several times together, Bemose many times before that and often with William, when they would winter in the Sault. Bemose appreciated James recognizing their experience and treating his much younger brother with respect. While they all recognized James was their leader, like all good captains, he took into account expertise on hand that could benefit all, even if not his.
They settled into a routine, loosened and removed clothing so to vent perspiration and spoke very little. Of those words exchanged, the majority were between James and Marie, struggling to keep the pace, a straight course and some semblance of coordination. Few of those words were audible to the others, but the general confusion was often obvious, prompting a small smile from Wasebitong, frustration from Trove at having to slow and concern from Bemsoe and Oliver, not wanting the pairings to stress a young marriage.
“Marie, please, paddle on the same side…” James pleaded.
She shot back, as breathless as he, “If I do that James, the canoe will turn off course.”
He replied and tried to explain, “No, I will correct the course with my paddle both adding thrust and steering.”
She nodded, “So I hear from the others but it does not seem to work with us.”
He flushed, exasperated by his new bride, who while criticizing his performance “at the helm,” not heard by him from anyone but his father since a young boy, Marie had the grace to use the collective pronoun, “us.” Her approach, he knew, both pointed to why he loved her even as her techniques with a paddle were driving him to frustration.
He offered in defense, “Please believe me, I will paddle on the opposite side, by so doing balance the forward thrust and make steering only nominally necessary.”
Marie replied, “But how do I know that? I can’t see you.” She unexpectedly skipped the next stroke, placed the paddle across her lap and turned around to finish their conversation face to face.
Not anticipating her action, James completed a powerful stroke, hoping to correct the course but instead, in light of her unannounced holiday, sent their craft even further askew.
James sent her a look of exasperation, suggesting with his eyes she return to her work as he now switched sides yet again and tried to bring their craft in general alignment of those craft, further ahead than ever before.
She turned, in a huff, wanting to continue to discuss and James offered only by way of suggestion, “Just trust.”
Soon, Wasebitong and Trove settled upon a small island, barely separated from the mainland in an area of what might number several dozen of the same. The party stopped for lunch, a welcome break for all.
As James and Marie stepped ashore, they were provided all food and drink enjoyed by others, already unloaded, set out and half devoured.
Bemose smiled at Dunlap’s well intentioned suggestion, “Perhaps I might assist by shifting the pairings.”
James quickly squelched the idea, “We will be fine. Just taking some time to learn and coordinate.”
Bemose looked at Marie, who instantly gave James a loving look for defending them, as a couple, to all amid obvious difficulty, if not incomepetence. She took his hand slightly, with such subtlety that only Bemose noticed. Bemose thought Marie may not know how to paddle or even to trust, but she certainly knew how to love.
The sun broke through what developed as partly cloudy skies by mid afternoon and as it made its way through its arc, each longer and more pronounced than the day before given the time of year, James marveled at the beauty of the shore, with its rocky coast and majestic pines. He felt joy in taking to the water in a small craft. “A canoe,” he noted to Marie, “allows, I think, the most intimate experience with nature of all options afloat.”
Clearly fatigued and with blisters on her hands wrapped for protection, Marie nearly gasped, “I care little for what size the vessel, but by all means, give me sails, steam or pulled by a horse!”
The party moved ever closer to Detour Passage and James was determined to make the turn north for the St. Mary River well before stopping for the day. By late afternoon, the canoes rounded close to the shore to minimize any adverse current, but James called out, from well behind, “Two more hours, all, and we make camp!”
As they settled into the routine for a final push, the skies grew dark, with a front moving down quickly from the north. The clouds were more a deep gun metal blue than black and James read the color, direction and sudden drop in temperature as an impending snow squall.
As the
river narrowed, with the party in the middle, the north wind suddenly grew cold and fierce. The paddlers donned coats and assured all supplies were secure. The wind slowed their progress, hitting them right on the bow, and the resulting seas building with the adverse current created some concern. The waves disrupted their regular stroke and sent some splash among them just as large, wet snowflakes began to fall.
Nearly instantly, visibility was much reduced and the first two canoes reduced speed through the water, hoping James and Marie would close the gap. And they did, sooner than James thought possible.
James was paddling very hard, concerned for Marie not having the skill to keep the bow on course. The party had made only just more than an hour of progress since the turn at Detour, but his instincts combined with the intense concentration and physical effort required for safe navigation in such conditions forced James to consider their precarious position; one which he had encountered before.
With the wind on the bow, from the same direction as the current, the problem was windage. The three canoes threaded a needle, each trying to maintain their position in a narrow eye, both sides of which presented forces they could not safely counter.
James fully appreciated their situation and knew that Marie could not. He was worried that should any one of the canoes fall just a point or two off of the by now near gale force wind, or not keep the wind dead on the bow, it would begin to press from the side, force their bows to turn further and quickly away from the wind, across the swell. As James paddled hard through the snow squall, calling to Marie encouragement and direction, he imagined with just the slightest mistake in stroke, the current would assist and conspire with the wind and seas in forcing the initial and perhaps final turn. James imagined Marie looking back to him, for help and sense of surprise for ever having placed her into such a position as the canoe swamped and they spilled into the freezing river.
James led, for the first time of the day. He trusted that Wasebitong and Bemose understood the danger and Trove and Dunlap were very good in the stern, steering with skill and precision. He was very worried for Marie, with no experience, exhausted, and little or no trust in him. He admitted to himself his limited skill and the unlikelihood that he would steer as deftly as others in the party. Within some lengths of taking the lead, James saw a dim grey shadow emerge from the white snow falling so hard in the fierce wind so to sting his eyes. He shouted, “To the left bank, just ahead.” The shore curved so to reach out for them, decreasing the distance they would need to paddle, with the wind kept to a very narrow angle off their bows.
Within minutes, they made the landing. The seven searchers were exhausted, warm and wet, with exposed skin at the same time raw from the cold north wind. The snow was a nuisance as they unpacked the gear needed for shelter for the night.
Trove helped James unload a canvas, which would soon make a proper lean to and shelter under which front flap they might be able to build a fire. He looked James directly in the eye and asked, “Bring back any memories?”
James instantly knew to what Trove referred. He swallowed hard, nodded and acknowledged the close call. He said only, “This time, with a better result, by the grace of God.”
Trove nodded and the two parted. There was hard work to be done making camp in the storm and with time enough later for tragic recollection.
Later than evening, with the snow squall passed, a hot dinner very much appreciated by all and the camp fire beginning to wane before it would be revived for the night, Trove uncorked a brown jug and passed it to James. He offered, “Here is to you, Captain, for finding this shore and none too soon.” He took a swallow and James followed, passing it to Oliver. The jug stopped at Dunlap, although Wasebitong made a futile attempt at participation.
James was all too quiet. The fire crackled and the wind could still be heard, high in the trees. Trove tried once again to make conversation, confirming for James, “Had you gone on, we would have seen it all again.”
James nodded, “Once is enough.”
Then Trove began to recall, for all to listen and learn how close they had come to ruin.
* * *
November, 1813
Lake Erie
Trove descended the companionway steps of Friends Good Will, sliding the hatch cover back in place, hoping to keep the wardroom in the small sloop somewhat drier.
But the gesture was futile. With the rising winds and seas, a November gale, vicious and raw, blew what felt like solid water below and threatened their landfall at Erie. A northwest wind whipped the seas to a froth, with freezing rain icing the spars, rigging and deck.
Friends Good Will departed Detroit two days before. With Harrison’s victory at the Thames, the native threat on the American side quickly subsided and several chiefs had already sued for peace.
Captain William transferred personnel and military goods between Sandwich, Detroit, Amherstberg, Frenchtown, and Sandusky the remaining days of October, preparing various posts for the oncoming winter. Meanwhile Perry and Harrison came to conclude the season had advanced beyond what a strike at Fort Mackinaw, in the hopes of seizing Lake Huron as well as Erie and St. Clair, would reasonably require.
Captain William was saddened to receive orders for Erie. He knew many navy personnel and shipwrights yet in the town and would nonetheless be very lonely. Trove tried to console him as they sent down the topmast, yards and brought in the jibboom at the now captured Amherstberg Royal Naval Yard in preparation for winter and their departure east.
On a cold day with flurries sparkling in the sun, the spars lashed securely on deck, Trove reminded, “Perhaps Bemose and the little one can winter in Erie now that we have chased Proctor to Niagara.”
James added, “She looked to be doing very well, even after birth less than two months before and her voyage down Lake Huron. I am certain Oliver and Mary, with his company stationed in Detroit, will dote on the lad.”
Captain William smiled at the thought and admitted, as to Bemose, “She is remarkable, no doubt and thank God for the support of her people, helping her come south and introduce me to my second son.” He then looked at James and confessed, in front of Trove, who never knew much family love or sentiment, “I never thought I would ever feel the joy of a birth of a son again. Seventeen years between, no doubt, but rather than that fact making me age, I think instead Shining Water’s birth has made me young!”
Trove knew Captain William felt the utmost reluctance when he ordered the docklines cast off. James tried to help by reminding, “Once the Lake freezes, let us secure you leave and you can visit George in Detroit,” using his step brother’s Christian name, having seen him only once.
The first day was near calm; the second fine sailing with a southwest breeze that so often in November deceives and promises a prolonged “Indian summer.”
But through the night, the wind came on to blow cold and hard from the Northwest. The seas built and Friends Good Will, were there only room enough, could easily reach to the northeast under little sail and ride out the storm. Putting in across the bar at Erie was out of the question and as had sailors for centuries, the captain and crew of Friends Good Will consciously chose to remain at sea for their safety. By daylight, all knew that reaching with the storm was no longer an option. Lake Erie was too small and the eastern shore loomed just ahead. Captain William tacked and put her on the wind with a double reefed main and staysail and tried to keep her off a lee shore. James assumed the watch while Trove tried to get some sleep.
Six hous later, Trove was half through his watch and stood dripping over a chart studied by Captain William and James. The three discussed their options. James observed, “If the wind should continue unabated for some time the seas will demand much of our stays, already ready for replacement.”
Captain William nodded, “She is taking a beating.”
Trove asked, “Can we tuck up under the northern shore, perhaps behind Long Point and find calmer waters?”
Both Captain William and James ac
knowledged the suggestion but James reminded, “We would be close to land still controlled by Proctor. He may well be massed at Long Point or Dover Mills.”
Captain William near shouted, as Friends Good Will smashed down into the trough of a particularly steep sea, requiring all three of them brace for support and reach out for deck beams, “We do not know what vessels he may have. I doubt they are large or powerful but Perry said nothing about us invading Canada!”
Trove had the deck, although all three instinctively felt Friends Good Will roll upright and lose power. Trove realized she was nearly in irons and as he was closest and on duty, he stuck his head back out into the storm, shouting back to the helmsman, “Watch your course! On the wind, not into it!” Trove knew the course given was difficult in large seas and reefed sails and sensed he should take the deck yet again to assist.
He asked, “Any change of course for now?”
Captain William pointed to the mouth of the Niagara River. He explained, “Fort Erie has no vessels, there are none flying the Union Jack on the river and the current would help should we need to put back out into the open water. The fetch is insufficient for seas to build and we have support in both Black Rock and Buffalo should we need.”
Both Trove and James nodded approvingly.
Captain William ordered, “Come about and put her on the wind for Fort Erie, three points east of north!”
Through the day, with occasional snow squalls, low scudding clouds and no other vessels in sight, Friends Good Will, despite the name on her transom, beat her way toward the northeast corner of Lake Erie. By late afternoon, the seas had subsided. While still whitecaps, there was by that time, simply not enough fetch, or distance between the shore and the sloop, for the wild wind to deliver them up as steep and dangerous as for so many hours before.
Trove, now relieved, lay in his bunk feeling much encouraged by the diminished stress on the rig. He thought they might just all see this out with a mast still standing.