LIVERPOOL, PORT MEDWAY AND BEYOND.
At Lockport I met S. E. Mack of Lunenburg, who is in the Customs Service, and who took a live interest in my method of seeing the country. He suggested the Daniels House as a comfortable place to spend Sunday, and while its management had changed hands since he knew it last, I found it quite satisfactory. The Mersey House here is claimed to be one of the best in Nova Scotia.
Charles Warman, a resident of Liverpool, has written much concerning the town’s history and has tramped Nova Scotia from end to end in search of local lore. I found him at work on the journal of Col. Simeon Perkins, but he was quite ready to defer his own work and give me attention. A walk about the town under his guidance resulted in much that proved of interest.
In 1605 the Sieur de Monts was made Lieutenant-General of Nova Scotia by Henry IV. A year before this he, in company with Champlain, sailed along this coast. This locality he named Port Rossignal, after a certain adventurous gentleman who was caught poaching on his preserves here, and whose vessel he confiscated. Later the region was included in La Tour’s grant known as La Héve; the settlements were small and not permanent.
The present town of Liverpool was founded in 1759 by New England pioneers. That they were an energetic lot is thought proven by the fact that within a year they were building three vessels for the fisheries to add to a fleet that already contained sixteen schooners. One of their leaders was Capt. Sylvanus Cobb, who had been master and owner of one of the vessels that removed the Acadians from Grand-Pré in 1755.
In 1779 American privateers were a constant source of annoyance and damage, but “the thrifty Yankee of Liverpool concluded to make hay while the sun shines. So in due time they had a fine fleet of privateers harrying the New England waters for the spoils of war, and the practice was returned, but these Nova Scotians got the better of the game, and several families, who were very plain people before, became persons of consequence on this money that had been taken from their own flesh and blood”—so says a Nova Scotia historian.
Whether an acquaintance I made in Port Medway has a gentle little grudge against Liverpool, or whether it is commendable local jealousy, I am not quite clear, but he takes this view of it: “As a result of this privateering certain of the people of Liverpool grew wealthy, built a string of houses along the main street and held themselves up as aristocrats, and some of their descendants still think they are made of better clay than the average.”
The War of 1812 proved another blessing to the freebooters, as did that between England, France and Spain.
Smuggling was another popular fad, and anyone who interfered was more than apt to get himself disliked. In 1782 a certain citizen had the reputation of being an informer, and about the time that this reputation became firmly established, or shortly thereafter, the Provisional Government was offering a reward for the conviction of the person or persons who cut off the ears of the said citizen. It does not appear to be a matter of record that the reward was ever collected, the informer business having become extremely unpopular.
A fort which is now a public park that adorns the southern end of the town does not appear to have been much more useful in the early days, as we are told that in 1780 it was captured by an unexpected night attack led by a Yankee named Benjamin Cole. With their fort in the hands of the enemy and the place commanded by the guns of the privateer, the situation looked hopeless to the townsmen—all but Col. Simeon Perkins. Getting out of difficulties appears to have been one of the Colonel’s chief delights, and he proceeded to make arrangements for the capture of the invading Cole while on his way through the town. The attempt was successful, and with him safely in hand, Colonel Perkins “was enabled to dictate to the enemy most favorable terms of redress, capitulation and retreat. So ended the Siege of Liverpool.”