Beginning Again (13 page)

Back in our room we could not settle down. The shock of all that had taken place was too great. We huddled together on the bed Papa and I had shared, blankets round our shoulders, talking softly until the sun was up. When we heard stirrings in the next room we dressed and went in quest of breakfast. The Sherwoods soon joined us. Samuel's eyes looked as heavy as mine felt.

“Were you able to get any sleep?” I asked him.

“Reuben and I didn't,” he replied. “Nor Scipio, but Pa did. He hadn't closed his eyes before the trouble started, nor undressed. Once he knew the villains were behind bars he slept like a baby.”

Captain Sherwood pulled out his watch. “Just gone eight,” he noted. “Plenty of time. We must call upon the chief justice, the Honourable Mr. William Smith, before we see the magistrate.”

Papa looked surprised. “My complaint seems trivial for the chief justice. Will he receive me?”

“Of course he will,” Captain Sherwood spoke with conviction. “I've known him for years. And murder is never trivial. Fonda's behaviour was a scandal for a guest in our country. Mr. Smith is a Loyalist, too, with bitter memories. I know that he'll welcome an opportunity to show these Americans that they can not do what they like in Canada!”

Everyone hiked to the Upper Town once more, and we went for a walk while Papa and Captain Sherwood were closeted with the chief justice in his tall stone house. Shortly before ten, we met the men outside the courtroom next to the jail. As we entered I noticed that Captain Sherwood had a sealed letter which he kept tapping against his front teeth.

Papa explained to Elizabeth and me where everyone would sit. The dock for the prisoners was a small gallery at the rear. In the front of the chamber was a carved wooden railing with a large table behind it surrounded by cushioned arm chairs. There the magistrates sat. For the coming hearing only one magistrate would preside. If this judge decided that Captain Fonda and his fellow plotters should be tried, they would be held for the next meeting of the Court of Quarter Sessions in January. At such sessions six magistrates had to be present. Between the railing and the dock were benches for spectators.

In spite of the corporal's orders for us to be on time, we had to wait. Other cases came before our charge was dealt with. Most were for petty offences. The magistrate was looking as though he would rather be somewhere else before our turn came. Then much foot scraping in the dock announced the arrival of Fonda and the others.

“The charge?” the magistrate enquired.

“Attempted murder of myself or one of my four children, Your Honour,” Papa said in a voice that carried throughout the room.

“Your name, sir?”

“Caleb Seaman, Your Honour.”

“Of what place?”

Before Papa could reply, Captain Sherwood was at his side. “Excuse me, Your Honour, it would be dangerous to reveal that information in the presence of the accused.”

“Your name?” the magistrate asked, frowning at the interruption.

“Sherwood, Your Honour. Captain Justus Sherwood, and I have a letter for you from the Honourable Mr. Smith.”

The magistrate extended a hand. While he broke the seal and read, I stole a glance at Captain Fonda. Never had I beheld a man so altered so quickly. His face was ashen, his hands trembled. Well, it was only justice after what he had done to us, and planned to do. I felt nothing but contempt for him. Like other bullies I had known, he was a coward underneath.

“A serious matter,” the magistrate said. “But I'm reluctant to order a trial when no real harm has been done.”

“Your Honour,” Captain Sherwood protested hotly. “Mr. Fonda's a treacherous poltroon. He conspired to kill innocent boys, or, far worse, an innocent young girl. And Mr. Putnam agreed to carry out murder for a paltry sum. Not only that, the other two were a party to the foul deed and did nothing to stop it.”

The magistrate looked irked by the second interruption. “I'm well aware of that. Please be quiet. Rest assured the safety of Mr. Seaman and his children is of utmost importance. I intend to follow the Honourable Mr. Smith's advice.”

“I apologize, Your Honour,” Captain Sherwood said, gently.

“Mr. Fonda, who plotted murder, and Mr. Putnam, who was caught in the act, are the real culprits,” the magistrate resumed. “The other two will be escorted to the border and never permitted to return. Bail for Messers Fonda and Putnam is set at one thousand pounds each.”

Captain Fonda was too outraged to remain silent. “Your Honour, I can't raise such a sum, not in Canada anyway!”

“That's why I set it so high,” snapped the magistrate. “I want you held till the court meets in January. But there won't be a trial. You will then be escorted to the border. If either of you sets foot in this province again, you will be tried for attempted murder, and most likely hanged. Does that satisfy you, Mr. Sherwood?”

“Yes, thank you, Your Honour.”

“Acts like a zealous-pated lawyer,” I overheard the magistrate mutter before he called the next case.

We watched as Fonda and Putnam, both pale and shaking, were led from the dock. One of the others still had some fight left in him for he glared at us. “This won't be your country for long,” he called. “The United States'll annex it any time we like!”

“Silence!” thundered the magistrate. “Or I'll cite you for contempt of the majesty of the law!”

“Now to work,” Papa said as we left the courtroom. “The sooner we take the raft apart the sooner we can leave for Montreal.”

W
ith lighter hearts we faced the drudgery of demolishing our raft. I think Elizabeth worked the hardest of all, chopping with a small axe to sever the withies. Papa warned her to watch carefully when a great log came loose and to stand well back. He need not have worried, for she was at least as nimble as any of us at hopping from a loose log to a fastened one. As on our first journey to Quebec, we sold the logs from our cabin at a local sawmill. The work took us two more days. On the second, the Sherwoods, who had finished taking their raft apart stopped to say goodbye.

“We have seats on the afternoon stage,” Captain Sherwood announced. “I wish you a safe journey when your turn comes.”

“And may I thank you for all your help, Captain,” Papa said. “I don't know what we would have done without you.”

The captain waved a hand airily. “As I recall, you did very well capturing Mr. Putnam.”

“True, but you were the one who made sure the two worst rogues would be jailed,” Papa reminded him.

“Hope to see you in Montreal,” Reuben said, looking straight at Elizabeth. “I won't be going on home for a week or so.”

On the morning of our last day Papa allowed me to escort Elizabeth to the Upper Town for the garrison parade. She donned her muslin gown and green velvet cloak. I felt like a poor relation in my shabby clothes. This time, fewer people were watching for the day was very cold. As the Duke of Kent rode by, Elizabeth curtsyed. He looked down at her upraised face and lifted his half-moon shaped hat in a salute.

“I bet you won't ever forget this moment,” said I.

“Will you?” she asked me.

“No, though this parade's not as colourful as the last one I saw,” I replied. “The day was mild and the soldiers' red tunics weren't covered by those gray greatcoats.”

We spent one more night at the London Coffee House. Over supper, at a table by ourselves, Papa revealed how well he had done in bargaining with the merchant. The average price of one log was two pounds. At that Sam whistled.

“That's eight hundred pounds, a vast sum!”

“How do we keep it from being stolen?” Cade enquired.

“We won't carry all of it,” Papa explained. “I have a note for one hundred pounds for the Mallorys' fifty logs. That leaves seven hundred pounds for us. Six hundred is a note which I'll invest with a merchant in Montreal. That way our money will earn interest until we need to spend it. I have another note for fifty pounds to pay for iron from the forges of St. Maurice. That leaves just fifty pounds in hard cash that we'll have to guard.”

“We certainly sound very rich,” Elizabeth said.

“I wouldn't say that,” Papa said with a smile. “But we'll be able to afford a few luxuries now. And I want to pay each of you something for all your hard work.”

“What a great idea!” said Sam.

In the privacy of our room, Papa handed each of us ten shillings. I was overwhelmed that he was treating me the same as the others. Cade and Sam had been doing a man's work longer than I, and Elizabeth had certainly earned her money several times over.

“I hope you will all keep this for something special,” Papa said. “Not fritter it away.”

“When do we start for home?” I enquired.

“Tomorrow morning,” Cade replied for Papa. “We've seats on the first stage and we should be in the Upper Town in good time.”

Again, soon after dawn we found ourselves trundling up the stone steps, loaded with bundles of clothing, blankets and cooking pans and the furled sail. We would need the sail for the next raft when the time came. Papa and Elizabeth, now in her everyday gown and the velvet cloak, rode inside with the older passengers. We three went on top, well muffled, for the weather had grown wintry, with snow threatening. When Elizabeth saw where we were she frowned.

“If I'd worn my breeches I could be up there, too.”

“Count yourself lucky,” Cade told her. “These hard benches bruise your bones after a few hours.”

About three miles before Three Rivers the coach lurched and tipped over on its side. We three leapt into some bushes which broke our fall. Rushing to the aid of the driver, we prayed Papa and Elizabeth were not hurt. All four horses were thrashing about in a muddle. The rear pair had been pulled to their haunches, the lead ones prancing and threatening to break loose.

Sam and I ran to the heads of the front pair to steady them, and Cade and the driver unhitched them. Once we untangled the reins I led them aside while Sam helped free the second pair. Meanwhile, Cade had climbed on the side of the coach, which was now the top, and forced the door back on its hinges.

“Are you all right?” he called.

Papa's head poked out. “Just bruises, I think.”

He climbed out and reached down for Elizabeth. Sam caught her in his arms when she jumped. Cade and Papa helped the other passengers out and handed them down to Sam. On the ground we stood in a circle, then everyone burst into excited English and French.

Papa showed the most presence of mind. Examining the coach he found it had lost a wheel. The driver was confused, and Papa took charge. All the passengers set out on foot for Three Rivers, Papa driving one pair of horses, Sam the other. We were bound for the inn where horses were changed. The driver remained behind to guard the coach until Papa could return with men to repair the wheel and some fresh horses.

When we reached the inn, we took a room, and the landlord summoned the workmen. With Papa in command they left, taking tools and two harnessed teams. Before long we grew hungry and went to the dining room. Later on we were glad we had eaten, for Papa did not return with the driver and coach until late at night. He was weary and filthy after helping with the repairs.

“What a time we had jacking up that monster of a coach,” he said. “I've asked the landlord to put a tub in our room. I'm hungry as a bear, but I want to be clean before I touch food.”

Two men servants hoisted the big tin tub up the stairway, followed by four girls bearing pitchers of steaming water. Afterwards Papa ordered more hot water and while he was dining we took turns having baths. Though we had the tub Mama had bought at home, we had not ordered one at the London Coffee House. There we had made do with basins. The hot water felt wonderful after the walk in the cold earlier in the day.

We reached Montreal without further incident. In honour of Elizabeth, Papa took a large room at the King's Arms, a better inn than the one we had used when we travelled home with Reuben. At supper that first night Papa put down his fork, a smile of pure contentment on his face.

“I love being the head of a family in this new land.”

“I think we're all pretty satisfied with our lot,” Cade said.

“And at last we're to have a spending spree,” Sam added.

“Suits come first, Papa said. “I want to have the cloth Uncle William gave me made up. And it's high time Cade and Sam were properly dressed on special occasions. Ned, too, now you've almost reached your full height. If the tailor makes a generous cut to leave room for filling out, you won't outgrow a suit.”

“And what would you like?” I asked Elizabeth.

“I don't know, but I'll enjoy looking until I make up my mind,” she answered dreamily.

Next morning, as we were going into breakfast, the landlord spoke to Papa in a voice too low for us to hear, and handed him a card. After we were seated he read it and showed it to us. It was an invitation to a ball to be given by Sir John and Lady Johnson at their home near Lachine on Friday night.

“Who are they?” Cade enquired, puzzled.

“Sir John is the man Lord Dorchester wanted for the lieutenant governor of Upper Canada,” I replied.

“Today's Tuesday,” Papa noted. “That should allow plenty of time for our purchases. We can take the stage to Lachine on Friday afternoon and join a brigade there.”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed, downcast. “Our suits. There won't be time to have all of them made before the ball.”

Papa was optimistic. “There should be. We'll go to the tailor's as soon as I've invested the note with the merchant. I'd like to have my new suit to wear, too.”

“I'm surprised at Sir John giving us an invitation,” Cade spoke up. “He's such an important man, and he doesn't even know us.”

“The landlord said Sir John sends a servant in livery to this inn with invitations to all people from Upper Canada who are staying here,” Papa replied as he rose from the table. “Sir John is also the Superintendent of Indian Affairs, I believe.”

Elizabeth window-shopped by herself while the rest of us visited a tailor. Down to earth Cade selected grey worsted for his suit. Sam eyed a bolt of red plush longingly. Papa steered him towards a sensible blue serge. With Papa's help I chose a brown worsted. For waistcoats Papa let us have our way. Cade wanted blue velvet, Sam the red plush, while I selected yellow brocade. Afterwards Papa brought forth Uncle William's blue broadcloth and red shagreen and the tailor took all our measurements.

“Could you have all the suits ready by Friday morning?” Papa asked him.

The tailor stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and peered at us through his spectacles. “My sisters help out when I'm rushed. Yes, you may pick up the suits by ten o'clock. Be here at nine on Wednesday morning for your fittings.”

We went from the tailor's to a shirt-makers and ordered one for each of us. They would be ready by Wednesday. Our next call was at a hosiery shop, and on the way there Elizabeth joined us. Papa bought white worsted stockings for all five of us, and Mama, too. Then Elizabeth whispered in Papa's ear, colouring slightly. He handed her some coins, and she went off on her own again.

Sam snickered. “I wonder what she'll buy?”

Papa regarded him sternly. “That's her affair, sir!”

Almost at once Sam forgot about Elizabeth. Papa halted outside a saddler's, admiring a fine piece of craftsmanship on display in the window.

Cade whistled. “Are you going to break down and buy a saddle?”

Papa nodded. “If there isn't one made up for sale, I'll order it.”

The saddler let us have the one in his window, magnificent, smelling of new leather and saddle soap. Joyfully Cade and Sam lugged it back to the King's Arms. On Wednesday the four of us hurried to the tailor's for our fittings and picked up our shirts. Aterwards Cade, Sam, Elizabeth and I used some of our pay to buy earthenware cups, saucers and plates for Mama, a velvet ribbon for Sarah, clasp knives for Smith and Stephen, a carved wooden toy for Robert and a tiny doll with a china head for Margaret. As promised, our suits were ready for us when we returned to the tailor's on Friday morning.

Papa's was a perfect fit and so were Cade's and Sam's. Mine, as Papa had instructed the tailor, was rather loose with space for me to fill out. Even at that I thought I looked more presentable than I had for years.

Back at the King's Arms we packed and caught the stage for Lachine. After a ride over a dreadful road that shook us all, we disembarked before an inn. This time Elizabeth shared a room with three other women, while the rest of us had another to ourselves. At about six o'clock we ate only small cakes and tea. Papa warned us about the lavish supper usually served at a ball, and we wanted to do Sir John's meal justice. In high excitement I donned the new suit and was ready before my brothers and Papa.

“I'll see if Elizabeth has finished dressing,” I said.

“Hurry her along,” Sam ordered. “She'll take longer than usual, to preen.”

“That's enough,” Papa said. “We'll meet you downstairs, Ned.”

Elizabeth was ready, and she opened promptly at my knock. My jaw dropped at the sight of her. The muslin gown ballooned out at both sides, making the skirt sway gracefully when she moved. Her lips were soft pink, and so were her cheeks.

“Oh, my, “I gasped, letting a whistle escape between my teeth.

She threw back her head and laughed. “You're very handsome in that suit. Turn round and let me see the back.”

“Elizabeth,” I said as I obliged. “I don't want to tease, but what did you buy with the money Papa gave you?”

“Nosy,” she teased back. “I bought some rouge and a marvellous petticoat with a hoop of bone. Don't you think it does wonders for this dress?”

“You look like the wealthy ladies of Montreal,” I agreed. “Are you sure you can navigate the doorway?”

“Of course, but I do have to turn sideways.”

I helped her on with her cloak and went first down the stairs. The hooped petticoat took up nearly all the width. The others were standing in the hallway below. Papa was speechless at the sight of his eldest daughter.

“I'm glad it's a mild night,” Cade remarked. We don't need to hide these fine suits under our coats.”

We left the inn and walked up the roadway to a large, square-timbered house set behind a wrought iron railing. The gates were open in welcome. Up a circular drive we walked. The house was ablaze with lights, and other guests were arriving,—most on foot like ourselves, a few in carriages.

Through double doors we entered a wide, brightly lit hallway. A footman in livery took Papa's card and directed Elizabeth to a room at the side to leave her cloak. The dance had already started, and while we waited for Elizabeth we had a good look at our fellow guests. They were wearing everything imaginable. We could just as easily have come in the outfits we had worn on the raft. Some people were dressed in the latest fashions, but some were in leggings and bush shirts or ordinary work clothes. Many were Indians, the women in their short dresses of deerskin.

“Will you please join the receiving line, sir?” another servant in livery addressed Papa as Elizabeth joined us. “To be presented to Sir John and Lady Johnson?”

“Thank you,” said Papa, leading the way.

Sir John was a thickset man of medium height, his hair powdered. He was in uniform, a green coat with dark blue trim and gold lace over white breeches and waistcoat. Lady Johnson was short, plump and motherly-looking. When our turn came to greet our hosts, the servant called Papa's name. Sir John smiled, shyly, I thought, as Papa shook his hand. We boys bowed and Elizabeth dropped her curtsy. She had scarcely risen before a young man in a scarlet coat came forward and asked Papa for his permission to dance with her.