by Julie Lawson
I stumbled over rocks and through brambles, barely able to see — eyes stinging, lungs bursting, clothing scorched and torn, the wind carrying sparks and new fires flaring up everywhere. Finally came in sight of the river and the Wagon Road — saw the Powder Works and Mr. Onderdonk’s place and people carrying furniture out of his house — saw the railway bridge in flames, west of the Powder Works, and people trying to put out the fire by hand. Two Wagon Road bridges further to the west were also burning.
I saw ladies, children and a few men hurrying along the road toward town and I had almost caught up to them when a tremendous explosion knocked me off my feet. The Powder Works! The ground shook like an earthquake and I felt the whole world was about to end. When the shaking stopped I got up and saw the Powder Works blazing, and beside it the Fox house, and down the road Mrs. Fox and her baby and two little boys, but no Melissa. I called out, “Where’s Melissa?” and Mrs. Fox looked around, confused, and said, “She was right here,” then, “Dear God, she’s gone back for her kitten!”
All this happened faster than it takes to tell, let alone to write. Mrs. Fox had no sooner spoken than we both saw the fire spread to the house with Melissa most likely inside. I ran as fast as I could and pushed open the door, screaming for Melissa — and found her trying to coax the kitten out from under her bed. By this time the heat was intense and the roof was on fire and the smoke near suffocating. I grabbed Melissa and ran back outside as the entire west side of the house went up in flames. The whole time, Melissa clung to me and cried for her kitten and all I could do was cry too.
Then a second, more powerful explosion erupted from the Powder Works. Everyone fell to the ground, Melissa clutching me in terror and me pretending to be brave and telling her she was safe — and poor Mrs. Redgraves who lives next door to the Nitro-glycerine House, near the bank of the river — the force of the explosion threw her right out of a window and into the road. Mr. R. went to her aid and she was able to get to a place of safety.
Through all this — smoke, flames, explosions, people rushing about and cursing the New Engine (which reached the Powder Works too late to do any good) — somehow in all the confusion and panic I made my way home.
Melissa came with me — she would not let go of my hand — and her mother and brothers came, too. Mama said they could stay with us until they got their bearings and Mrs. Fox said thank you, and accepted Mama’s offer — but only until Tuesday when she will go to Hope and meet up with her husband.
Mama gave everyone some supper — I could not manage a bite — and arranged for beds and blankets. Melissa slept with me and is sleeping yet.
As soon as I finish this account, I’ll look for some of my outgrown pinafores for Melissa. Mama was saving them to cut down for the Baby but poor Melissa lost everything in the fire and Mama won’t mind.
Monday afternoon
My brothers told me that on the morning of our camping trip they got up early to go hunting, and since I was sound asleep they did not want to disturb me. They went farther than they should have gone but hurried back as soon as they saw the smoke. Then they discovered I had already left. They packed up hastily and circled off to the east instead of going down the trail, because of the way the wind was blowing. They said they were sorry, they should never have gone off and left me, they thought at first I had gone home long before the fire, then they were afraid I was dead, especially when they heard the explosion. They said the same things so many times I finally told them to be quiet. I’m not dead, but they might be if they do not give me some peace.
I cannot be too cross with them because they found my straw boater at the campsite and brought it home.
Now I have a thought. Maybe Mr. Hagan will publish my account in the Sentinel. AN ARDUOUS ADVENTURE by Kate Cameron. Or Kathleen L. Cameron? K.L. Cameron? I can’t decide.
Mama told me that Anne came over while I was asleep and brought me some sweet peas from their garden. They smell like summer.
LESSON LEARNED: Sometimes your worst fears come to life and there is nothing to do but face them head on as best you can. Everyone says I was brave and clear-headed and a real little heroine to go into the house for Melissa. I did not feel brave. I felt sick with fear from the moment I first saw the smoke and started down the trail. As for Melissa, I did not stop to think, I just rushed in, faster than anyone else. I might have been more foolish than clear-headed.
I wish I could have saved her kitten. A horse was killed, too. It was tied up near the west end of the Powder Works.
The Foxes’ cat, Molly, was safe. Someone found her on the river bank.
Now I’m going to leave off writing and have something to eat. Then I’ll go to the Church and help Mama and the ladies. They are collecting and sorting donations for the Foxes — and for the Olsons, who also lost their home and belongings in the fire.
And tomorrow I will call on Anne.
Tuesday, July 31, 7 P.M.
Melissa and her mother and brothers left this morning. The house is very quiet and I am very weary.
Last night, Melissa had a nightmare and woke up crying. She kept thinking about her kitten and was afraid our house would catch fire or explode. I told her she was safe, it was raining, the fires would be out, there was no dynamite left to explode — I tried everything to calm her but nothing worked. I was getting so desperate I was about to wake her mother, but I suddenly remembered “The Song of the Locomotive.” I recited it several times, with dramatic flair (I thought) and perfect enunciation, but then I had to do it in a whisper because Toby banged on the wall and told me to hush.
Melissa told me her favorite line — “I roar on the beach of the roaring deep” — so I made up a new poem that goes like this:
I roar on the beach of the roaring deep
And put Melissa and Kate to sleep.
She liked that very much and said it over and over until it worked.
We got up early (in spite of being awake half the night) and had oatmeal porridge and cream for breakfast. It was still raining and the air was black with smoke.
By 8 oClock the Foxes were ready to go. Mama gave Mrs. Fox two big boxes of clothing and linen and cooking utensils — with more to come. I gave Melissa a big hug and promised her one of Sheba’s puppies the next time she has a litter.
I walked with them to the steamboat landing. Everyone in town was sweeping up glass from broken windows. Our house had two windows blown out, one in the dining room and one in the parlour. Toby and Andrew swept up the glass yesterday morning while I was asleep.
On the way to the landing, Melissa wanted to hear “The Song of the Locomotive” a few more times and now she knows it almost by heart. I think it helped take her mind off things.
They left on the stern-wheeler and I went to see Anne. She was in her father’s shop, sweeping up glass from broken bottles and windows. I thanked her for the flowers and told her I was sorry. She said she was sorry, too.
Then I gave her one half of the jade that Toby had polished. I said she could either keep it or send it to Princess Louise.
She said she would keep her half as long as I kept mine, and that way we would always be friends. Then we hugged each other and finished sweeping up the broken glass.
Before I left she told me she had no idea jade was so beautiful, once it was cut and polished.
August 1883
Wednesday, August 1
The entire town is talking about the explosions. Someone said there were 360 cases of Giant Powder stored in the Powder Magazine, equal to 9 tons. It all burned gradually for a time until it caused the second explosion. The first explosion was caused by nitro-glycerine.
Mama says she has always been fearful of a terrible accident. And if Mr. Onderdonk builds another Powder Works, it had better be in a remote location.
Thursday, August 2
The salmon are running and the Indians are on the river with their nets. The sky is hazy but not black. The air does not reek of smoke. I am thankful for a calm and uneventf
ul day.
Wednesday, August 8
Anne and I have spent a wonderful week playing games and visiting friends and strolling up the river. Sometimes we take our sketchbooks and draw pictures to keep as souvenirs.
Sometimes we talk about going back to school on September 3, with the same old teacher. We call him Mr. Eyebrow (but just between ourselves).
Anne said she is happy I’m not going to Angela College. I am, too. But I feel a little twinge — afraid that we might have to move away from Yale and that is why Papa is going to see Mr. Dunsmuir in Victoria.
Today I went to Anne’s for tea and her mother told me I had done Anne the world of good, getting her out and about in the fresh air. “A thin little girl is a pitiable sight,” she said, “but look at Anne now. Plump and rosy cheeks, no sign of anemia — the picture of good health — just like you.” Hearing this made me blush as much as Anne.
Saturday, August 11
I’m sitting on the steamer on my way to Victoria. It is a fine day, not a cloud in sight. Scenery grand as usual.
Toby and Andrew are strolling around the deck. Papa is sitting beside me reading the paper and smoking his pipe. Mama is only two months away from her confinement so she is staying at home to rest.
We boarded the Western Slope early this morning along with a number of other passengers and some freight. The river is low, and every so often the captain slows down the engines to take soundings. When we get to New Westminster we are getting off and spending the night in the Occidental Hotel. I call it the “toothache hotel” because of my last visit, but this time staying there will be a painless treat.
Sunday, August 12
Occidental Hotel, New Westminster, British Columbia
Here I am in our hotel room at the end of a long and pleasant day. Papa wanted to see the terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway so this morning we got on a stage for Port Moody — and 6 miles of rough-and-tumble over the Wagon Road. The driver stopped his team at the bottom of a long hill and there we were at Port Moody Harbour.
We got out and looked across the water. About 12 miles to the west is what Papa calls Burrard Inlet. One mile to the east is the Government Dock. That is where they are going to build the station. And that is where the railway will end after coming all the way across Canada. Toby said, “No, that’s where the railway will BEGIN.”
Of course it depends on whichever way you are going.
Papa hired a ferryman and we went across to the Dock. There was a fine three-masted ship from London, unloading steel rails for the railway. And some buildings that Papa took an interest in, hotels, Government buildings and the like. I became bored and wandered around. Nothing much to write about. Steep hill, swampy ground. Huge timber — where it has not been cut down for the railway. Some of the tree trunks look to be 9 feet in diameter.
Papa says there will be a town there one day, even a city, but I find that hard to imagine.
The tide was out so Toby and Andrew walked along the beach and looked for clams and crabs and shells. The smell of low tide makes me feel seasick.
We had lunch in the Caledonia Hotel. Toby told us that he had discovered a trail near the Dock, and by following the trail back to New Westminster instead of taking the ferry and stage, Papa would save $6.00. We took the ferry and stage anyway. It took 2 hours over the bumpy road, even with a four-horse team and a crack-whip driver. Toby said it would have been quicker on the trail as well as cheaper.
Now we are back in the Occidental for the night. It is a grand hotel with forty rooms. Our room is spacious and clean and my bed is very soft.
Tomorrow we go to Victoria and on Monday I’ll see Rachel at Angela College. I have not seen her since May and she has not written to me since early June. I answered her letter then, and asked a number of questions, but she has not yet replied.
There is so much I want to know. Does she sometimes feel sad for no reason? And, a moment later, feel as though her heart might burst with joy? I am on a constant seesaw. Up and down, up and down. Never mind brothers driving me to distraction. I can do it well enough on my own.
Monday, August 13
Victoria
I’m writing this at Cousin Lucy’s house. It is a grand house on an Inland Waterway called the Gorge. After we got here, Papa hired a hack and we went to Victoria High School so Andrew could register.
Tuesday, August 14
Is there ever an end to Disappointments?
I’m sitting in the swing on Cousin Lucy’s verandah, watching the evening sun polish up the Gorge and wondering how someone you think you know can turn out to be so different.
After lunch today, Andrew and Toby went rowing on the Gorge with Cousin Dick, Papa went to see Mr. Dunsmuir, and I finally got to Angela College to see Rachel. She showed me her room and gave me a tour around the school. It is a splendid building with a high board fence. She introduced me to some of the boarders, the ones back from holidays, including the Shawnigan Lake sisters. Most were older than her, she said, but they were a sweet lot of girls and very friendly.
That may have been true for Rachel, but they did not treat me very kindly. I was invited to join them for tea and found it a great strain. I suddenly found myself tongue-tied and awkward, unable to put two words together without stumbling — not that I was given much opportunity to speak, for after a few comments and questions tossed in my direction, Rachel and her friends went on to topics of greater interest — for example, the upcoming Balls at Government House and the handsome Middies from the British Men-of-war at Esquimalt who would attend. They could have been talking Greek for all I understood. At one point I asked, What is a Middie? and they laughed. After that I asked no further questions.
I’m hurt over the way Rachel ignored me at tea, the way she left me sitting there like a lump on a log. Worse, she told her friends about my letter, the one where I asked how she felt about growing up, and where I said that I wished I could have stayed twelve years old forever. They laughed some more and Rachel said she cannot wait to be grown up with hundreds of beaux fighting over her hand.
I felt like saying, “Smarty boots, proudy hoops,” like Rachel did when I first arrived in Yale. But I bit my tongue and forced myself to think Thick Skin.
Thank goodness I’m not going to Angela College. I would have to leave the real Kate outside the board fence. And if she wandered off, I would be left with a Self I did not know. I think that would be the height of loneliness.
Now I keep wondering about Papa’s meeting with Mr. Dunsmuir. Maybe he has signed a new contract and we are about to move again. Maybe not. I am afraid to ask.
Later
I was unable to sleep so I got up, found Papa smoking his pipe on the verandah and asked him straight out if we had to move to Vancouver Island because of Mr. Dunsmuir’s Railway. He said, maybe one day, but not for a while.
And then he told me why — in great detail. I did not need such a detailed explanation but once I had the answer to my question I thought it only polite to listen to Papa. And now that I know the reason, and still cannot sleep, I may as well write it down.
There is a bridge being built where the railway crosses the Fraser River — an Iron and Steel Cantilever Bridge — the first of its kind ever to be built in North America. Papa is very excited about this bridge and has signed a contract with Mr. Onderdonk to see it through. It is very complicated. The bridge is going to be built at Cisco Flat, a little ways south of Lytton. Sections of the bridge are presently being made in Great Britain and they will be shipped to Port Moody sometime this year. Papa says he hopes the railway from Port Moody to Yale will be finished by the time the sections arrive so they can get them to the site without any trouble. Then they will put the bridge across the river. It will be 142 feet above the water!
I feel very happy. When Papa said we do not have to move to Vancouver Island I said, “That’s wonderful!”
If he was like the man with the horse he would have said, “Maybe.” Instead, he kissed me good night a
nd said, “I think so, too.”
I can’t wait to tell Anne.
Now I can go to sleep.
Except for one more thing. I found out that a Middie is a midshipman — a sailor training to be an Officer in the Navy. Well, Rachel is welcome to her Middies. I hope she fares well on rough seas.
Wednesday, August 15
New Westminster
Here I am back at the Occidental. Got up early this A.M. and said goodbye to Andrew and Cousin Lucy. Cousin Dick drove us to the Hudson Bay Company’s wharf and we boarded the HBC steamer for New Westminster. Spent almost the entire voyage out on deck and got to N.W. about 3 P.M.
Went for a stroll in the evening and picked some Spirea for Mama. She loves the pink flowers in her flower arrangements.
Toby asked Papa how long it will be before the Pacific Section of the Railway is finished. Papa said the progress of the line between Emory and Port Moody is very rapid. He is certain that the “iron horse” that whistles in Port Moody come Christmas morning will do the same thing in Yale in the evening.
I wonder where I’ll be on Christmas morning. I hope I’m home in Yale, sitting by the fire, holding my new sister or brother. I’ve been thinking about the Baby and have decided that I won’t mind so terribly if it is a boy. Goodness, by the time he grows up to be as annoying as Toby, I’ll be off in some far-flung corner of the Empire — like Calcutta! — reporting the news of the world.
