“Thank you for your help in landing my ship, Mr. Beckett.”
They shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you, uh, Captain Galway. Now do you mind telling me what a young lad like you is doing with a ship like this?”
“I volunteered to take the ship on her first run through Lake Ontario. While passing, a little bird told me that there might be some Irish folk here in Toronto who would like to join us on our maiden voyage. So, are there are any takers for our fine promotion? A free cruise to all interested Irish citizens! This once-in-a-lifetime offer has been brought to you by your good friends at Western Star Shipping Lines.”
Shane stared at him as if he had two heads, then burst out laughing. He turned to his fellow countrymen. “This lad wants to take us on a free cruise around the lake. What say you?”
A huge cheer swelled up from the desperate crowd.
“Jamie Galway,” said Shane, as he wrapped his arms around his wife and children, “I don’t know where you came from, but in my books, you’re an angel sent from Heaven.”
Chapter 19
Up in the wheelhouse of the Flying Irishman, Jamie Galway and Shane Beckett quickly became friends. As the city of Toronto faded into the mist behind the stern of their ship, Jamie explained to Shane everything that had happened to him since leaving Ireland; his harrowing trip across the Atlantic, his escape from Grosse Isle, nearly losing his life in the fires in Montreal, and then stealing the ship from the company that had caused his brother and hundreds of other Irish so much misery. Jamie played down the significance of the old Celtic book that rested in his satchel, simply saying it was an invaluable artifact for the church.
Shane couldn’t help but be impressed by the young priest’s determination. It was obvious that Jamie had no regrets regarding his many unorthodox, perhaps criminal actions. Given how Canadian law had abandoned his own family this past week, Shane himself had no issues with steaming a stolen ship across Lake Ontario in order to reach a safe haven for his family.
Before them, the bustling town of St. Catharines grew ever closer. The docks to the town lay just to the north of the city. Shane had offered to dock the ship for Jamie. Shane had spent his younger days fishing with his uncle in the Irish Sea. Jamie laughed and gladly offered him the title of “captain.”
“This time, it would be best if we brought her to the dock with some semblance of professionalism,” agreed Jamie. “We don’t want to bring any undesired attention to our arrival.”
“So what are your plans, Jamie, once we reach the dock?” asked Shane.
“I’ll comb through every work party along the entire length of the Welland Canal and see if my brother is among them. If he isn’t there, and I can’t find any more clues, then I’ll have no choice but to head back to Ireland with the book.”
“And what of this ship?”
He shrugged. “Now that I’ve made it to St. Catharines, I was going to simply set her adrift in the night and let Western Star salvage her out on the open water.”
Shane thought for a moment. “If you do that, the authorities will soon be all over St. Catharines looking for the culprits who stole her. They’ll have you arrested before the end of the week. You and your brother will never get back to Ireland.”
“I was going to head by land for the American border as soon as possible to avoid being caught,” explained Jamie. “But I see your point, especially if the search takes longer than a day or two.”
“To get into the United States by land, you will need to cross the dangerous Niagara River. Don’t even think about swimming it, lad. Everyone who has tried has drowned. You’ve never seen a river like it. It truly is a frothing white monster of death and a perfect borderline between two countries.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to swim,” agreed Jamie, thinking back to his near drowning at Grosse Isle.
“The only way across is through Canadian government checkpoints at ferry crossings. By then, the authorities might have a description of you. They’ll be waiting at the crossings for you with half of the British army.”
“A very good point,” said Jamie, discouraged. “You’ve successfully pulled apart my only escape plan. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I think after you leave the ship, you should let me sail the Flying Irishman to the United States.”
“Your family wants to go to the United States?” repeated Jamie. “Why?”
“I can tell you that many of us on board have no desire to return to a city that treated us like animals. We have relatives already in Boston and New York City. I have a cousin on Long Island who has begged me to move closer. My family and I will go to New York and start our lives all over again.”
“And the orphans?”
“I’ve already talked to the other families. We’d be more than happy to adopt one into our family and the other families have agreed to do likewise. They all seem to be wonderful children.”
“That’s fantastic news! But how will you get there? You can’t sail the ship all the way to New York City.”
Shane smiled. “I’ve heard in the Toronto pubs of a little-used dock near Rochester, New York, that has been used in the past for smuggling Irish across the border. We’ll tie her up there in the evening twilight and quietly drift off into the American night. We’ll then likely catch a ride up the Erie Canal to New York City.”
Jamie could see the plan coming together. “Because the ship will be found deserted in American waters, it will likely be seized by American authorities. That will cause Western Star Shipping Lines a huge headache to get her back.”
“And Western Star should have no idea that you disembarked from the ship here in St. Catharines. Hopefully in all their confusion of finding their ship in American hands, the company will be completely thrown off your trail. They will think that you moved on with us to New York City. They will then have to give up their search.”
Jamie smiled. “All right. You’ve convinced me of your plan so far. But I myself still have to get across the border. The British might still look for me at the border crossings. How will I get into the United States?”
“Leave that to me,” Shane smiled. “I owe you an escape plan. My family and I will gladly wait for you in Tonawanda. It’s a village just across the Niagara River from the head of the Welland Canal. At exactly midnight, send me three quick flashes then two slow from the Canadian shoreline, and I’ll come over with a boat to pick you up. After that, my family would be honoured if you joined us on our journey to New York City. You’ll find plenty of ships heading back to Ireland from there.”
“That’s a kind offer, Shane, but the search for my brother might take a while.”
Shane clapped him on the back. “We’ll wait in town for two weeks before heading off to New York City. It’s the least I can do for a young priest who’s half off his rocker but has a heart the size of Canada.”
Jamie shook his hand. “Then I hope to see you again soon.”
Shane pulled down the telegraph until it read “Ahead Slow.” The brass bell rang in confirmation. He stepped aside and offered the wheel back to Jamie. “We still have a couple more minutes before docking. I’ll let you have your last turn as captain while I go and tell everyone below our plan.”
Captain Shane soon returned to the wheel and the Flying Irishman came to a much less dramatic docking in St. Catharines. Shane was right. Only a small handful of people rescued from the quay decided to stay in Canada. Jamie, Beth, and Colin huddled low amongst the group of Irish that disembarked, hoping not to be noticed by the gathering crowd. The locals were wandering down to the water’s edge in order to gawk at the sleek new steamship. They were surprised when the gangplank retracted as soon as the passengers had disembarked. The crew then pushed her away from its moorings and Jamie dared to sneak a quick glance at the now familiar superstructure of the Flying Irishman turning her nose seaward. The steam thickened over the twin smokestacks, and she set a course due south for the American border.
&
nbsp; Jamie, Beth, and Colin parted ways from those heading back north to Toronto and instead turned south for the town of St. Catharines. The trio soon found themselves strolling along St. Paul Street in the heart of St. Catharines. They admired the many shops that catered to the large work crews rebuilding the Welland Canal. Jamie finally spied the door for which he was searching. Avoiding a carriage and several piles of horse manure, the three made their way across the street and into the town post office.
“I think it’s high time we wrote a letter to your relatives, Colin. What do you think? Would you like to finally meet your aunt and uncle?”
The young boy nodded enthusiastically. Jamie sat on the steps of the post office and wrote a letter with a pen and paper he had removed from the captain’s quarters of the Carpathia II. Colin climbed up to the top step and looked over Jamie’s shoulder at the writing.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“It says there is a handsome young lad by the name of Colin O’Connor who would very much like to meet his aunt and uncle. I’m going to tell them that we should meet right here in front of the St. Catharine’s post office in one week’s time. Luckily, the town of Dundas is only a day’s ride away for the letter. Is there anything else you would like me to say to them?”
Colin looked up at Jamie with his big blue eyes. “Can you tell them that my mommy and daddy and my sister and brother are not here any more?”
Jamie gave Colin a hug. “Of course, I will. There. All done. Now, can you take this envelope and money up to the postman and say it is going to your aunt and uncle in Dundas, Canada West?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and opened the door to the post office. Beth leaned into Jamie. “I’m going to miss that little guy when he leaves.”
“Me too. He reminds me so much of myself, right after I lost my parents.”
Beth eyed the distant construction snaking up the side of the escarpment. “So what are we going to do now?”
“It’s not that complicated a plan, really. We just start at one end of the canal and work our way to the other, asking every single person we meet if they have seen my brother.”
Hundreds of men could be seen milling about the long, narrow worksite, popping in and out of the scar like a colony of ants tending to a massive nest.
“This search is going to take a while,” whispered Beth.
As Colin skipped back to the steps empty-handed, Jamie stood up. “You’re right, Beth. So I guess we better get started.”
The first three days they spent searching for Ryan Galway ended with frustrating futility. Jamie meticulously interviewed every single worker that was on the lower end of the project; from the stonecutters and sappers working hard to turn the deep trench into a functional canal, to the engineers and supervisors who were poring over various drawings and calculations in the scattered foreman offices. Not surprisingly, many of the labourers were Irish. Most were sympathetic once Jamie explained his plight to them. It was all too common a story among those at the canal, as everyone had stories of family members who had been separated from each other either in Ireland, at the quarantine stations, or, more tragically, by the hand of death. Jamie could only hope that someone would either know Ryan’s name or perhaps recognize their facial similarities, for many who knew them in Ireland said that except for the difference in hair colour, it was easy to tell that they were brothers. Jamie prayed for that next clue that could help lead them to his brother’s whereabouts … but so far, no sign was forthcoming.
Colin had quickly tired of canvassing. As a gift to his younger companions, Jamie went into town and purchased both Colin and Beth fishing rods. Jamie first showed them how to scavenge for worms under rocks and logs, skewer them on a hook, then how to select a good section of a nearby creek for fishing. The two young travellers quickly found a suitable rock from which they could sit and dangle their lines into the fast-flowing water. With Colin content, Jamie left Beth in charge of the boy while he continued his search for Ryan further up the mountain.
It didn’t take long for Beth and Colin to get the hang of the sport. In no time, they were bringing back pan-sized speckled trout for the evening dinner. Fascinated, Colin watched every gory step while Jamie cleaned the catch with Officer Keates’s pocket knife. Jamie quizzed Colin and Beth on the fish’s internal organs, explaining their function to the children as each organ plopped out from a sliced belly. Beth would then happily pan-fry their catch over the open campfire. A makeshift tent on the other side of the fire was their temporary home.
By the fourth day, Jamie had worked his way up to one of the most impressive feats of engineering he had ever seen. It was a series of twenty-five locks being built one after the other, straight up the steepest part of the mountain. Jamie took the sketch he had kept since Montreal out of his pocket and compared it to the massive construction effort before him. It was a rough match. With growing enthusiasm, Jamie could simply sense that Ryan was nearby, drawn here by the immense engineering challenge of the project. Sending a ship up the side of a mountain would have been an engineering challenge that would have attracted Ryan like a bee to honey.
But that was just the thing … it had been eating away at Jamie ever since he had first found the diagram in Montreal. Why would his brother be here, working on a canal, when he knew how important it was to get back to Ireland and fulfill his obligations to the Brotherhood? Was he in need of money for the return trip? Did he not yet have the energy to make the taxing journey back home? Was he suffering an injury to the head? There was no way for Jamie to know the answer to his nagging questions. He just had to keep his faith that he would soon find Ryan and finally discover the truth.
Halfway up the giant staircase of locks, a group of a dozen workers was setting huge cut stones into the bottom of a lock. The crews were completing the locks from top to bottom. The highest locks were already finished, complete with stone facades and massive wooden doors. The lowest locks of the twenty-five were not much more than naked holes held in shape by wooden retaining walls.
Jamie avoided the crane and crew as they lowered a huge stone into the base of the lock. He stepped closer to the edge until he could clearly see the group of masons busily setting each stone into place. He stood and admired their work until the crew took a short break. Jamie then cupped his mouth and shouted down into the lock.
“Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt.”
The men paused and looked up at the lad high above them.
“How can we help you?” asked the foreman of the group.
“Has an Irish worker arrived in the last few weeks by the name of Ryan Galway? He’s two years older than me, and we look quite similar.”
The older man shook his head. “Haven’t heard of anyone by the name of Galway.”
“He does look something like Patrick, though, doesn’t he?” commented one of the crane operators, listening in on the conversation.
“And didn’t Patrick arrive about three weeks ago?” said another.
“Yes,” agreed the crane operator. “He did arrive three weeks ago but his name is Patrick Kell, not Ryan Galway.”
“And where might I find Patrick Kell?” asked Jamie.
“You can usually find Patrick near the engineering hut at the top of the mountain,” said the crane operator. “We’re glad he arrived when he did. He helped solve a conduit problem that has plagued our construction site for six months. We were just about to start laying off workers when he got us back on track.”
Jamie thanked the men and hiked up towards the top lock. Along the way, he interviewed three more groups of workers. Many agreed that he did look eerily similar to Patrick Kell. Upon reaching the top, Jamie took a moment to catch his breath and looked back over the massive engineering project that descended to a sparkling Lake Ontario far below. A cool breeze brushed across his brow. For just a moment, Jamie closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to take him back to his homeland. He saw the cobblestone streets and thatch-roofed cottages of his family’s v
illage. He smelled the rose-scented gardens and heard the moans of the oxen plowing patches of field for spring potato seeding. His family milled about, chatting about the day’s events, sharing a laugh. He could even hear his brother guffawing with them in his own unique style. Jamie blinked hard in the bright sun. The guffawing was not coming from his imagination! Jamie spun around. Much to his disbelief, Ryan, his brother, walked out of a nearby cabin, laughing with an older gentleman who was holding an unrolled diagram in his hands.
“How did you become so rich when you think so small?” said Ryan.
The older man smiled. “All right, stop all the laughing at my expense and tell me what you mean.”
Ryan pointed to the diagram. “Just make those conduits a little bit bigger and we could build a mill that could grind grain not only for the southern section of Canada West but for upper New York State as well!”
The man chuckled, rubbing his grey beard. “That’s what I like about you, Patrick. You never stop thinking of new ways to spend my hard-earned money.”
“Ryan?”
Unable to control himself, Jamie sprinted across the construction site.
“Ryan!”
Ryan staggered backwards at the sound of his name, shocked. “Jamie?”
Jamie charged in and threw his arms around his brother. The man accompanying Ryan stepped back in surprise, and nearby construction workers lowered their tools. The moment seemed to freeze in time as the two young men hugged and slapped each other on the backs with unbridled happiness. Jamie gripped his brother’s face.
The Emerald Key Page 18
