Beyond these came glimpses of the canal 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 ship. 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 passed 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 canal, 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 Canal. 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 canal was constructed. The "Port" in those days of the horse canal when we arrived at it was mainly a turning place for the canal crews. Its one principal street facing the canal 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 circumstances have all since changed.
Plan of Lock at Port Dalhousie with Upper Gate closed, only 200 ft. long
The Lock at Port Dalhousie with Upper Gate open—233 ft. 6 in. long.
"Chicora" 230 ft. long as placed in Lock and lowered to Lake Ontario Level. [page 74]
Capt. D. Muir, the proprietor of the Dry Dock, with whom both now and later many a pleasant hour was spent, was a fine old character, and although then on the far side of sixty he held himself with square-set shoulders upright and sprightly. He had sailed the lakes until his face had taken on a permanent tan; eyes a deep blue with shaggy overhanging brows, a strong mouth and imperturbable countenance. He was not greatly given to conversation and had a dry, pawky humour which gave much point to his slowly spoken words, but when, as sometimes, he was in narrative mood, he would string off incidents of early sailing days on the lakes the while he chewed or turned from side to side, some sliver of wood which was invariably held between his teeth. He had no fancy for metal vessels, or "tin-pots," as he called them. "Give me," said he, "good sound wooden vessels, built right," (as he said this you would glean from his emphasis he meant "as I build them.") "If ye hit against anything in the Canawl, ye don't dint; if ye go ashore ye don't punch holes in your bottom, and ye ken pull yer hardest without enny fear uv rippin' it out."