Part 6 (2/2)

We had come by a slanting course down and across the lake, reaching in under Point Abino in good shape and were rejoicing that the larger portion of the crossing was well over. As we rounded from under the lee of the Point and pa.s.sing it, changed our course for Port Colborne, a nasty sea come down from the northwest with an increasing breeze. We were soon in trouble, the bow-part began to roll and jump on its own account at a different rate than the more staid and heavy after-part, sometimes rising up on end and then seeming to try and take a dive, but held from going away by the long elm timbers which writhed while their chains squealed and rang under the strain.

The worst sensation was when the seas, coming in on the quarter, swept through the opening between the two parts, swis.h.i.+ng between the plates and das.h.i.+ng against the after bulkhead made it resound like a drum, sending the spray up over the deck while they coursed through the rower side. It was very exciting, but not at all comfortable. The pace of the tug seemed to get slower and slower, but all we on board could do was to keep the long timbers and their fastenings in their places, see that the bulkheads held their own, and stand by and watch the contest with the waves.

At length, as we got more under the lee of the land, the waves subsided, the pace increased, and at last we were safe between the piers at Port Colborne.

Making all arrangements for the next few days, the leader hurried home, f.a.gged out, but exultant, for the worst part of the journey was over and we had put the rest of the way fairly under our own control.

CHAPTER VII.

DOWN THROUGH THE WELLAND--THE MISERIES OF HORSE TOWING TIMES--PORT DALHOUSIE AND A LAKE VETERAN--THE PROBLEM SOLVED--TORONTO AT LAST.

The barges with the ”guards” on them had been sent down through the ca.n.a.l as soon as they had crossed the lake, and were now safely moored at the Ontario level in the outer harbour at Port Dalhousie, there to await the arrival of the united boat. The men in charge returning up the ca.n.a.l to join the main expedition.

Starting from Port Colborne, the two parts of the steamer were separated to go down the ca.n.a.l. The bow part was kept in the lead, but both as near one another as possible, so that the crews could take their meals on the after part, on which they also pa.s.sed the nights. The stern part was taken down the long upper level by a small tug, but teams were employed in towing for all the remaining portions of the ca.n.a.lling. Memories of things as they then existed on the old Welland are in striking contrast to the conditions obtaining at the present day.

The miseries of human slaves on the ”middle pa.s.sage” of the Atlantic have been dilated upon until sympathy with their sufferings has abounded, but it is doubtful if they were in any way worse than those of the miserable beings then struggling on the ca.n.a.l pa.s.sage between Lakes Erie and Ontario.

The ca.n.a.l bank and tow paths were a sticky mush, which in those autumn months was churned and stamped into a continuous condition of soft red mud and splas.h.i.+ng pools. From two to six double teams were employed to haul each pa.s.sing vessel, dependent upon whether it was light or was loaded, but in either case there was the same dull, heavy, continuous pull against the slow-moving ma.s.s, a hopeless constant tug into the collars, bringing raw and calloused shoulders.

Poor beasts, there was every description of horse, pony, or mule forced into the service, but an all-prevailing similarity of lean sides and projecting bones, of staring unkempt coats, gradually approaching similar colour as the red mud dried upon their hides. Rest! they had in their traces when mercifully for a few moments the vessel was in a lock, or when awaiting her turn at night they lay out on the bank where she happened to stop. It was the rest of despair.

The poor devils of ”drivers,” boys or men, who tramped along the ca.n.a.l bank behind each tottering gang, were little better off than their beasts.

Heavy-footed, wearied with lifting their boots out of the sucking slush, they trudged along, staggering and half asleep, until aroused by the sounds of a sagging tow line, with quickened stride and volley of hot-shot expletives, they closed upon their luckless four-footed companions. What an electric wince went through the piteous brutes as the stinging whip left wales upon their sides! A sudden forward motion brought up by the tw.a.n.g of the tow line as it came taut, sweeping them off their legs, until they settled down once more into the sidling crablike movement caused by the angle of the hawser from the bow to the tow path.

The new Welland, with its larger size and tug boats, has done away with this method of torturing human and horse flesh. One wonders whether it is the ghosts of these departed equines, that, revisiting the scenes of their torture, make the moanings along the valley, and the whistlings on the hills, as they sniff and whinny in the winds along the ca.n.a.l.

We had a good deal of difficulty at first in our ca.n.a.lling, especially in meeting and pa.s.sing vessels. The after-part took every inch of the locks, and was unhandy in shape. However, by dint of rope fenders, long poles and a plentiful and willing crew we got along without hurting anyone else or ourselves.

It was in one of these sudden emergencies which sometimes arise that Captain Manson was thought to have got a strain which developed into trouble later on. He was a splendidly-built fellow, over six feet in height, in the plenitude of youth, handsome, laughing, active, and of uncommon strength, the sort of man who jumps in when there is something to be done, throws in his whole force and saves the situation.

The bow-part, being short and light, went merrily on, its crew chaffing the other for their slower speed, for which there was much excuse.

One day on a course in the ca.n.a.l below Thorold we rounded the corner of the height above the mountain tier of locks. It was a wondrous sight to see laid out before us the wide landscape of tableland and valley spread out below, through which we were to navigate and drop down 340 feet on the next four and one-quarter miles. To the left was the series of locks which circled, in gray stone structures, like a succession of great steps, down the mountain side. These were separated one from the other by small ponds or reservoirs with waste weirs, whose little waterfalls tinkled, foaming and glinting in the sun. Directly in front, and below us, were the houses and factories of Merritton, with trains of the Great Western and the Welland Railways spurting white columns of steam and smoke as the engines panted up the grade to the heights of the Niagara Escarpment from which we were about to descend.

Beyond these came glimpses of the ca.n.a.l as it wound its way toward St.

Catharines. Still lower down the Escarpment, spires and towers of the city itself, and yet lower and still further away lay on the horizon the blue waters of Lake Ontario. How beautiful and hopeful it was!

As the Greeks when emerging from the strife and struggles of their long and painful homeward march, hailed the sea with shouts of happy acclaim, for beyond those waters they knew lay home and rest. So, too, it might have been for us, or at least for one of us, for another link had been gained in our long and trying voyage. Far away, from the height, we could see Lake Ontario, the goal of the expedition, the ardently sought terminus of our labours, and on the other side of its waters lay Toronto and the future for the bonnie s.h.i.+p. But times to-day are more prosaic, so, taking a hasty but satisfying look, we turned to negotiate the next lock.

That night at the bottom of the tier, the stern part moored in one pond and the bow in the next below, a ”jubilation” was held in the after-cabin by the combined crews. We had safely got down all the steps, and had pa.s.sed the large boat safely through, so that we might well rejoice.

Beyond this day there was not much that occurred; the way was simple and we had got the ”hang” of things. At St. Catharines half the city came out to see the strange looking hulk wending its way down the ca.n.a.l, and through the locks, close to the town.

At length we came down through the five mile level where the ”Canadian Henley” is now held, with its floating tow path to carry the teams, and arrived at Muir's Dock, just above the final lock at Port Dalhousie, after five days occupied in coming through the Ca.n.a.l. The two parts were moored alongside the gate while waiting for the dock to be made ready for our turn to enter.

The position of the village now known as Port Dalhousie was originally, in 1812 days, being called ”Twelve Mile Creek.” The creeks, or river openings being then named according to their distances in miles from the Niagara River. This name was afterwards changed to ”Port Dalhousie,” in honour of Lord Dalhousie, the Governor-General at the time the first ca.n.a.l was constructed. The ”Port” in those days of the horse ca.n.a.l when we arrived at it was mainly a turning place for the ca.n.a.l crews. Its one princ.i.p.al street facing the ca.n.a.l basin, had houses on one side only, mostly drink shops, with or without license, with a few junk and supply stores intervening. Its immediate inhabitants, a nomad collection of sailors and towing gangs, waiting for another job. Around and in its neighborhood there was a happy district prolific of fruit and flowers, but in itself, with its vagrant crews culled from the world over, it was a little haven not far from the realm of Dante's imaginations. Times, methods and circ.u.mstances have all since changed.

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