Twenty-Seven Years in Canada West: The Experience of an Early Settler (Volume I)Strickland, Samuel
History
Twenty-Seven Years in Canada West: The Experience of an Early Settler (Volume I)
Strickland, Samuel
Ontario -- Description and travel
They did not wake up from their drunken slumbers till dark, when they
found themselves stuck in a rice bed, and unable to extricate
themselves from the dilemma in which they were placed; whereupon they
again had recourse to the bottle, which this time proved fatal to Daly
who, being very drunk, fell overboard. His companion, however, managed
to catch hold of him and succeeded in getting him into the boat only to
suffer a more lingering death, for he was frozen stiff before morning
dawned. The survivor had covered his unfortunate companion with a
blanket, the only one they had with them, in the hope it would keep him
from perishing with cold during the night, which care, however, proved
unavailing. He managed at dawn to extricate the boat from the rice bed,
but not being able to row so large a boat, especially in his present
condition, she drifted upon the point of the island on which we found
him.
As soon as he was well warmed and refreshed, we proceeded to the place
pointed out by him, where we found the boat thumping in the surf, on a
ledge of rocks. After hauling it up, we proceeded to lift the blanket,
when a shocking sight presented itself. The dead man was sitting
upright on the seat, with his mouth and eyes half-open. We lifted him
out, laid him under a tree, and spread the blanket over him. We found
our skiff too small to accommodate another passenger, so we determined
to leave it behind and take the large boat, which we accordingly did;
and we put our new-comer to the oar with Redpath, whilst I took the
helm.
We had a long, tedious row against the headwind, which now blew a gale.
Our new acquaintance, every now-and-then, would throw down his oar, and
howl and clap his hands to show his grief for the loss of his departed
friend. These pathetic lamentations elicited no sympathy from Redpath,
who abused him for “a lazy lubber,” and ordered him “to pull and not
make such an infernal howling, worse than a wild Ingin’s yell.”
We made the landing at Tidy’s, just before dark, and found several
hundred emigrants in the tavern, and camped round about it.
As soon as we came within hearing, our passenger commenced the loudest
howl he had yet perpetrated, which had the immediate effect of bringing
down to the landing the whole of his countrymen, who, as soon as they
learned the loss of their friend, gave us a genuine Irish howl, in
which the women took the most prominent part.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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