The reply came quickly: “Yes, every copper. Give me until fall—1st November—and you shall have it all.”
Perry almost doubted it, and asked how he would get the money.
“I have four ships on the water and 150 acres of winter wheat, and I will sell enough land to raise the balance,” was the answer.
Perry, to his honor be it said, granted the extension, and Daniel Conant sold 1,200 acres of land in Whitby at an average of $200 per 100 acres, which are to-day worth $9,000 per hundred, to help to make up the amount. True, it was not business to pay so quickly and sacrifice so much, but, as he explained, he felt that he must get out from the transaction, and he did. The author knew very well John Ham Perry, at Whitby, one-time registrar and son of Peter Perry, and now realizes that he was for many years in most straitened circumstances, and most deeply to-day regrets that he never aided him for having helped his father, a mistake which can never be repaired, much to the author’s regret.
Lying upon the Great Lakes and the mighty St. Lawrence, Canada was specially favored. The water afforded a means of communication for persons and goods before roads were hewn out of the forests. It must be very evident to any one reflecting, that boats were much more important factors in transportation before the days of the railways than they are now since railways intersect our country in every direction. To Upper Canada very many of the emigrants came from the British Isles by steamboats upon Lake Ontario. To such a degree of importance did captains of the steamboats attain, that we have no marine captains of these days, even those of the great ocean greyhounds, who can compare with them in dignity. Among these captains was old Captain Kerr, who for so many years sailed the side-wheel steamer Admiral. Now the Admiral had, as all those of that day had, before the sixties came in, a huge walking-beam, and with its 800 tons of burden of freight which it was licensed to carry, seemed literally to walk over the waters of Lake Ontario. Especially true the walking-beam comparison is, because the great part of the engine rose and fell, see-saw-like without ceasing, away aloft above the decks and over every top hamper of the steamer.
Now, just suppose the old Admiral has made the dock at some Lake Ontario port. Old Captain Kerr stands upon the upper deck and directs her speed and course as she makes the wharf. Landing at last and the gang-plank thrown out, people are coming on and off, and freight of barrels and boxes is being trundled both to and from the steamer’s deck. Eagle-eyed, red-faced, corpulent Captain Kerr views all and notes all from his coign of vantage, the deck above. And he bellows out his commands to the boat hands below in words so sharp that they fairly hiss as they leave his lips. No matter if they be keen and cutting, they are implicitly obeyed, and the deck hands jump—literally and truly jump (not a figure of speech)—to obey. Meek passengers of those days did not even expect a greeting, pleasant or the reverse, from old Captain Kerr and commanders of his stamp, for they were not noticed in the slightest degree. Early steamboat captains were too great personages to cultivate the social virtues, and they seemed to live within themselves and keep bottled up all the accumulated venom and ire and push of the Canadian summer and shipping season. Faithful old seadogs they were, nevertheless, and the fewness of records of disaster upon the Great Lakes of Canada truthfully testifies to their skill and watchfulness. It is a fact that very few steamers were wrecked or lives lost upon these lakes. Some were burned, because, built of timber as they were, and burning wood for fuel, they were particularly susceptible to fires on ship-board; but of real wrecks there were few. Built of timber and with oak planking upon the sides and bottom, very generally of three inches in thickness, these vessels were able to withstand a slight collision, or a run upon the bottom, without serious injury. Such collisions or groundings to our modern thin steel and iron steamers would to-day simply mean a berth at the bottom of Lake Ontario, without further notice. Rough and burly as Captain Kerr and men of his stamp were, they did great good to our country in bringing safely and quickly, and with very good accommodation, incoming emigrants to Upper Canada; and their churlishness and rigidness we may in a measure excuse.
Previous to the great war in the United States, from April, 1861, to April, 1865, the steamer Maple Leaf ran for many summers upon Lake Ontario. During its many trips it brought thousands and thousands of persons to the different parts of Upper Canada, and served us well and faithfully. Captain Schofield for many years ran the steamer, and emulated Captain Kerr in importance and churlishness. He was unable, however, to emulate him in corpulency. The deep redness of his face may not have quite equalled that of Captain Kerr, but approached very nearly. Captain Schofield many hundreds of times stood upon the upper deck of the Maple Leaf, with his hands upon the brass bell pulls for the engine, and roared out his orders so that passengers and deck hands alike wriggled to get out from under his words by getting out of his range of vision. For checking goods, however, coming upon or going from the steamer, no faster or more correct man ever lived. And Captain Schofield was a sailor in the true sense of the term. No mishap ever befell his steamer. During the great American war she was sold to the United States Government for a blockader for $45,000, and finally never again made any port, but “laid her bones to bleach” on Currituck Sound, in North Carolina. Captain Schofield then went to Rochester, N.Y., and met a violent death when stepping on or off a railway car. To-day he sleeps in the soil of New York State. It is related of him that once he ran into Oswego, N.Y., on a Saturday night to lie there until the Monday morning following. On Sunday his sailors sought recreation on shore; one of them got into some low dive in that city, and on the Monday morning was kicked out minus all clothing. Now, he dared not disobey Captain Schofield and fail to be on duty on Monday morning, but the difficulty was to get to the steamer entirely nude as he then was. Casting about he finally compromised matters by jumping into a barrel, knocking out the bottom and carrying it by his arms so that it enveloped his person, rather loosely, it is true, but very effectually notwithstanding. That sailor came on board, however, and did his duty manfully.
Canadians to-day, who are so very generally dependent upon railways, fail to realize what a great service those important and vituperative steamboat captains and their steamers did for us as a people. They honestly deserve pleasant memories at our hands. Any instance of a captain upon Lake Ontario abusing or insulting any female passenger on his ship is yet to be chronicled. Although only two steamers are singled out and mentioned, the list could be well extended to the Passport, Highland Chief, America, and Princess Royal.
Crossing the Atlantic Ocean in those days (previous to the sixties) was a terrible trial for the poor emigrant seeking his fortune in this new Canada of ours. Being confined to such close quarters, and crowded for so many days, it is not at all singular that many diseases followed the emigrants even after leaving the ocean a long way behind. Deadly typhus fever luxuriated amid such surroundings, while cholera was no stranger to the poor voyagers. One midsummer day Captain Kerr came into Port Oshawa, about 1855, at 9 o’clock in the morning, with a boatload of Highland Scotchmen as passengers. At this port 150 of them landed, and their goods and baggage were placed in the general storehouse upon the wharf. In the presence of Mr. Wood, the port wharfinger, and Mr. Mothersill, a gentleman who was looking on, many of these packages, for the first time since leaving the ocean ship, were opened out in the storehouse. In a very few hours from the time when they saw these goods unpacked, strange to relate, both these gentlemen died, while the landed emigrants started to walk northward from Port Oshawa to get to the homes of their relatives in Mariposa in the county of Victoria. To rest over night they entered a large cooper shop then standing on the south side of Oshawa, and remained for the night. Next morning early they left, and the cooper on coming into the shop was horrified to find a dead man lying upon his shavings. During the night the poor fellow, after braving an Atlantic passage of those days, and now near his goal, died and was deserted by his friends. It is only fair to add, however, that his friends were afraid of the contagion. It is said that the peculiar stuffy smell from these emigrants did not leave the storehouse or the cooper shop that whole summer, and only ceased when frosts came in the autumn. Of such sterling stock our Canadian people came. Perhaps no sadder instance can be given than the poor Scotchman lying, without nursing or medical attendance on a heap of cooper’s shavings, among strangers in a strange land, where every one was afraid of him, and shunned him to avoid the fever that raged in his veins.