With Nothing But Our Courage

by Karleen Bradford

  August 1784

  August 2nd, 1784

  It is hard to believe that summer is nearing its end. But we will have a snug cabin to live in for the winter.

  “No wood floor this year, I’m afraid, Fiona,” my Father said, “but next year I’ll put one in for you first thing.”

  Mother just shook her head.

  “I can wait for my wood floor quite easily,” she answered and gave Father a big smile. “It’s a lovely cabin you’re building for us, Robert.”

  Mother smiles a lot lately and is so much more like her old self. It makes me feel quite light inside.

  Even though Mother and Father are working so hard, they are much happier than they were last winter. Not being able to do anything for all those long months was worse than having too much to do, I think. They are not used to being useless!

  Now, as long as we get those supplies …

  August 10th, 1784

  The roof is going on today! Just bark for this year, but next year Father will make a better one. No glass for the windows, but oiled paper will do. No door, either, until Father gets a proper saw. We have sacrificed one of the blankets we were issued to hang in the doorway for now. I do hope we get a door before winter sets in!

  Jamie and I are helping to chink the logs with sticks and moss, and Father will plaster them over with clay, too.

  August 17th, 1784

  The cabin is finished, and Father built a privy out back as well. No more treks into the dark woods at night, thank goodness. I always imagine all kinds of wild animals behind every bush whenever I have to go. The cabin looks so safe and cosy, nestled in under the trees. And just think, dear journal, I helped to build it! I even helped build the privy.

  Angus and Duncan are now starting to build shanties of their own on their own properties, but until they are done they will continue to live in their tents.

  Father is making furniture for us. He is building bunks against the walls for Jamie and me up in the loft, and two larger beds in the main room for Mother and himself and for Grannie. Mother has her feather tick that we carried all the way here, but the rest of us will have to do with blankets thrown over balsam fir and pine boughs, until we can harvest straw next summer or get corn husks next fall. Later on, when we have geese again, we will have feather ticks as well. That won’t be for a while, though, I don’t think.

  Mother has also made a curtain out of the fabric that was supplied to us, that can be pulled across to give her and Father some privacy at night. (No new dress for me yet, I’m afraid.)

  We will use stumps for tables and benches. Those dratted stumps do come in handy for some things.

  Angus came by today to tell us how his shanty is coming along, and he brought us some dishes and spoons that he had whittled out of poplar wood. They are very welcome, as we only have a very few earthenware plates and bowls. Mother’s precious china platter sits now on a shelf that Father made for it and she will only use it for special dinners.

  Angus said that he and Duncan saw a bear yesterday. I wonder if it is the one that chased Jamie and me. Angus says if they see it again they are going to shoot it and we will have bear meat for the whole winter. I don’t think it very wise for Angus to try to shoot a bear and I said so.

  “Would that not be dangerous?” I asked him.

  “I have shot beings far more dangerous, Mary,” he answered and his face got suddenly all flat and grim.

  He must have shot and killed many men during the war. Somehow I had never thought of that. My own brother. And Duncan, too. It is not something that I really want to think about.

  Angus also brought some quill pens that Duncan whittled for me from some turkey buzzard feathers that he found. It seems Duncan has taken note of my habit of scribbling and thought I might be able to use them. That was thoughtful of him.

  August 30th, 1784

  We have moved into the cabin! Our own little house at last. It is nowhere near as roomy or as comfortable as our house back home, of course, but I cannot begin to describe how overjoyed I feel. The fire is burning brightly, Laddie is stretched out snoring before it, and Mittens is curled up right beside him, purring. This is a home indeed.

  No sooner were we settled in than Grannie insisted on planting her lilac bush. Father dug a hole for it right beside our door stoop and I carried a bucket of water up from the stream to water it. The leaves haven’t drooped a bit. It looks tiny and pathetic, but it also looks like it’s there to stay. Just imagine, next spring we will have lilacs in the doorway again.

  Mother made us a feast tonight, cooked in our own fireplace. Angus and Duncan shot a deer in the forest and we had the most delicious, sizzling, juicy roast of venison I have ever tasted. It was so good! Grannie made bread in our bake kettle. I sopped up every last bit of juice with it. We have no butter now but it did not even matter.

  For dessert we had Lumpy Dick served on Mother’s china platter, made with raspberries that Jamie and I picked. It was without a doubt the most wonderful meal that I have ever had in my life.

  Before we ate we all joined hands around the table and gave thanks to God for all we have. It is much, and we are very fortunate to have been able to get here safely.

  September 1784

  September 6th, 1784

  What a surprise today. I was digging away at the garden, fighting those dratted roots and saying words under my breath that I wouldn’t want Grannie to hear, when Laddie began to bark furiously. I looked up and there were two Indians! We knew there were Indian villages near here, but so far we have seen no sign of the Indians themselves. We had been assured that they were friendly, however, and willing to share their land with us, so we were not frightened when these two appeared. Father tried to talk to them, but they are from the Mississauga tribe and Father does not know their language. They made clear what they had come for, however. They tossed sacks onto the ground and took out ears of fresh corn. They obviously wanted to trade and this time we were able to do so. Mother gave them a sackful of our flour. They didn’t seem to mind the weevils. Then, realizing I suppose that we had no means of grinding the corn, they showed Father how to hollow out the top of a stump and grind the corn in that with a stone fastened onto a long pole for leverage.

  We will have a grist mill on the river here next spring, it seems, but this will have to do until then.

  Father seemed to get on very well with them. I do not know how he managed to understand them, but he tells us that they will take him fishing on the river tomorrow night. They have huge canoes that hold around ten men, and they use a flaming torch called a jack light at the bow to attract the fish. They spear the fish with long spears. Father is very excited about it all. How I would love to go too, but I know better than to even suggest it. I suppose Duncan and Angus will go, though.

  September 7th, 1784

  Father came home with a basket full of fish last night and we had boiled fish for dinner. He says he will go out with the Indians again so we will have a good supply of fresh fish from now on and we can salt some down for the winter. He says they are going to show him how to make moccasins, too, out of the deerskins we have — after he tans them — so we will have shoes for our feet this winter.

  What fun to wear Indian moccasins! Much nicer than heavy old boots.

  It makes it a little less worrisome to know that we will have a good supply of fish and game laid in for the winter, even if we won’t have too many crops.

  September 13th, 1784

  Just when things were beginning to go well — how could I be so stupid! I was helping Mother with the washing and tipped the pot of boiling water over. Some of it splashed onto my leg and burned it badly. I am sitting here with my leg wrapped up in cloths and Grannie’s black alder ointment smeared all over it, but it still hurts so much that I cannot stop weeping. The only good thing is that Mittens leaped out of the way just in time. I could not have borne it if I had burned her as well.

  I thought writing in my journal would help, but it isn’t
helping a bit. I’ll try to write later on.

  September 14th, 1784

  My leg is still unbelievably painful but we had the best surprise today. It cheered me up no end in spite of myself.

  Mother was working in her garden this morning and Father was busy clearing as usual. Angus was over helping, although there is still much to be done on his own lot. He had just helped me out to the front stoop to sit in the sun and keep an eye on Jamie, and for once he didn’t even tease me about anything — I think he actually feels quite sorry for me — when suddenly we heard the noise of horse’s hooves. We couldn’t believe it, but sure enough, out of the trees came a horse and rider. It was Uncle Allan Ross! He came to bring us news of his family and to see how we were. I have never been so pleased to see anyone in my life. I could not stop my tongue from wagging, asking him how Hannah was, did her family have their cabin built yet, and a thousand other questions, not to mention, how did he ever get a horse and from where? Grannie said it was fortunate that I could not move from where I was put or I would probably have been jumping all over the poor man. And I probably would have.

  Anyway, he told us that Uncle Andrew and Aunt Norah have built a cabin much like ours, and Hannah is fine. He is living with them until he gets his own cabin built. Hannah sent me a note and I have it here beside me. I keep reading it and reading it. She writes just the way she talks — her sentences ramble on and on and just run into each other and never seem to stop. Oh how I do miss her!

  Uncle Allan and Father have organized a logging bee and it is to be held here. They and some of the other men will help us clear more acreage, and girdle the trees too big to chop down, by cutting a strip of bark out all around them, so they will die over the winter. It has been raining quite a bit lately so they feel the woods are in no danger if we start burning all the brush and trees that we have already felled. They will all come here in a week or so, then Father and the boys will go to the Rosses’ place, and then on to the other neighbours who join in after that. It will be a busy fall.

  Best of all, Uncle Allan has told me that Hannah and her family will come, too.

  Uncle Allan not only managed to procure a horse, but he tells us he has a wagon as well. They are going to try and widen the path through the forest so that he can bring it through. That will help with the work, and he says he has been given provisions to bring to us as well! Governor Haldimand has kept his word and a whole new load of supplies arrived in Johnstown to be distributed amongst all the settlers. Father’s face lightened as if the worries of the world had been lifted from his shoulders at that news.

  September 15th, 1784

  All other work has stopped and Father and Angus and Duncan are bending their efforts toward making a road. The air rings with the sound of their axes from morning until evening. They don’t even stop for a meal at noon time, just eat what bits of bread and cheese they take with them in the morning. At least they have better axes to work with. Uncle Allan Ross brought them some good big double-headed axes.

  I suppose Uncle Allan and Uncle Andrew are working away just as hard from their end. Soon we will have a proper road joining us to the Rosses and then, I hope, we’ll get a road all the way into Johnstown. Uncle Allan said that they have built a church and Mr. Murchison preaches there on Sundays. It would be so good to be able to go — we would feel so much less alone if we could meet with our neighbours once in a while.

  Uncle Allan had all sorts of news to tell us. It seems that Johnstown is growing by leaps and bounds. There are several proper houses there now, as well as the church. They are even planning a school for next year. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they asked Father to teach? With Mr. Mitchell off in Cataraqui, I don’t see where they could find anyone else. I think the thought has crossed Father’s mind, too, as he looked very pensive when Uncle Allan mentioned it.

  September 20th, 1784

  My leg is much better and I am able to hobble around now. It still hurts, though, and looks awful. All scabby and red. I suppose I will carry the scar with me for the rest of my life. At least no one but me sees my legs.

  September 24th, 1784

  We are beginning to prepare for the logging bee. We must have boundless quantities of food on hand. Mother and Grannie and I have been baking and boiling and cooking from morning till evening. Jamie, of course, is constantly underfoot and has his fingers in everything if we don’t watch him. Grannie has rapped his knuckles more than once and she is getting exasperated. He had better watch out.

  September 27th, 1784

  The logging bee was today. What a vast amount of work, and what fun. Best of all, Hannah and her family brought their tent and are staying over. Mind you, Hannah is not sleeping in it. Mother gave permission for her to share my bed tonight. We have talked ourselves silly. I cannot begin to describe how happy I was to see her again. She is curled up beside me as I write and she has finally fallen asleep. My eyes want to close so much too, I am so tired, but I just had to write this down. I will tell of the bee tomorrow, and also of all the other good things that happened.

  The house is full of people snoring!

  September 28th, 1784

  It was so hard to say goodbye to Hannah today, but now that we have a road joining our houses, I am certain we will see more of each other. At least until the snow comes.

  Now to tell of all that happened.

  First I will start with what Uncle Allan and Uncle Andrew brought us. When Uncle Allan said he had supplies for us, he didn’t tell the half of it. Here is what he brought:

  – more tools for Father, including a good saw (It will be most useful for cutting down the girdled trees next spring, not to mention making a door!)

  – more ammunition for Father’s musket, which he sorely needs

  – two scythes and a sickle to help us reap our harvest next year

  – a frow for splitting shingles so that Father may make us a proper roof

  Oh, and a host of other boring but necessary things.

  Here is the best part:

  He brought a spinning wheel for Grannie and two fleeces of wool! Grannie is beside herself. If there had not been so much to do today I warrant she would have been spinning away already.

  And he brought chickens! A cage with several chickens and a rooster just for us! Father will make a chicken coop for them for the nights, because of the danger of foxes, but during the day they can peck around in the yard. I was worried that Mittens might chase them, but she is afraid of them. I am looking forward to an egg. I cannot remember the last time I tasted an egg.

  Angus and Duncan came just about the same time as the Rosses and helped us unload their wagon. By the time we had it all done, the others began to arrive. It was such fun to see the people we had come to know at Machiche last winter. Some had wagons, some just came on foot. The men all brought axes and saws, the women brought food.

  The Livingstones were all piled into one wagon and Mother and Mrs. Livingstone were so pleased to see each other again. Their baby is toddling all over the place now and Mother couldn’t stop laughing at her.

  The Calders came and Alex blushed scarlet red when he saw Hannah. She pretended not to even notice him, but her eyes got very bright and sparkly when she saw him, even though she denied it when I teased her about it.

  The Stantons and the Hooples came too, and I was glad to see Annie and Flossie, though not as glad as I was to see Hannah. Mr. Snyder came with Danny. Danny is just as dimwitted as ever.

  The men were all laughing and shouting to each other as they began to gather up all the brushwood and small trees that Father and Angus and Duncan had cut down. They made a huge pile of them and set it alight. What a bonfire it made! Then they set to clearing out more bush and trees.

  Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Mother and Grannie and Hannah and I, and all the other women and girls, were busy cooking and baking. We knew those men would be hungry when they finished their work and my, were they ever! They worked right through until the early afternoon and so d
id we. The men burned all of the underbrush and small trees and the tops and branches of the larger trees they had cut down and left only the charred trunks of those trees to be disposed of. They chopped firewood enough for us to last the winter, and by the time they were done with the burning, they were all quite black with soot. Mother was very disapproving because a jug of whiskey appeared when they were finished and was being passed around quite liberally. Father abstained. I think the memory of the last time he drank whiskey was enough for him. Neither Angus nor Duncan would dare drink under my Mother’s watchful eye, but several of the other men laid into it quite enthusiastically. Mr. Snyder got quite drunk and I wouldn’t be surprised if that idiot Danny had not had a swig or two as well. He certainly seemed sillier than usual when it came time to wash up. We had set up logs and stumps to sit on in the clearing outside the cabin, and a vat of soft soap beside tubs of water which Hannah and I and the other girls had hauled up from the creek.

  “Don’t be so disapproving, Fiona,” I heard Grannie say. “The men have worked hard and they need their reward. Just look at how much they’ve done for us.”

  There’s also a huge vat of ashes to be made into lye for soap and potash and to use in the privy. Not that the privy ever smells sweet, no matter how much lye we throw down into it, but it does help.

  We brought out pots and pots of soup and squirrel and porcupine stew and fried salt pork, and those men ate everything as fast as we laid it on the table. We also had boiled fish that Father and the Indians had caught, and roasts from another deer that Uncle Andrew Ross had shot. Mrs. Livingstone and Aunt Norah had brought loaves and loaves of bread, and of course Grannie and Mother had been baking as well. We joined in when everything was set out and it turned into a real party.