Authors: Mary Beacock Fryer
“I'm Lieutenant Duncan Campbell of the 26th Regiment,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” seemed to be all Papa could say. He was looking at Elizabeth as though she were a stranger to him.
The dashing young officer led her onto the floor as the orchestra was striking up an unfamiliar rhythm. “She only knows reels and jigs,” Sam murmured, subdued for once.
“She'll be fine,” Papa said. He seemed to have recovered his composure.
Fine Elizabeth certainly was. The British regular officer led her through what Papa said was a minuet. I caught a glimpse of Reuben Sherwood, staring open-mouthed at my sister. Would Dave Shipman have a rival when we got home? Sure enough, when Lieutenant Campbell escorted her back to Papa, Reuben was at her side, asking permission to be her partner for the next* dance.
The orchestra struck up the tune for a reel, and I was tempted to kick up my own heels. I looked over the gathering for a suitable partner in that vast sea of faces. My eye lit on a girl with long, dark hair and a white muslin gown similar to Elizabeth's. Plucking up my courage I asked her to dance.
“I'm Nehemiah Seaman,” I introduced myself. “And I live not far from Johnstown.”
“May I, Mama?” the girl asked a woman sitting beside her.
“You may,” she said, rising. “I'm Mrs. McCready and this is my daughter Margaret.”
I thanked her and taking Margaret's hand I led her towards a set that was forming. “Where do you live?” I enquired.
“At a place called Buell's Bay,” she answered.
“Only three miles from our house!” I exclaimed “Why haven't I seen you before?” I could not have missed Margaret among the few people of that village.
“I've never been there. My father is a tanner, and he has just started his business. He left us here till he had built a cabin. Mama and I are leaving to join him tomorrow morning when the brigade starts upriver.”
We had no more time for talk. We were third couple and the top couple was starting down the dance. When the music stopped I followed her to the side where her mother was seated. Papa joined us and asked Mrs. McCready to dance a jig that was called. The next dance was a gavotte, which I did not know. I apologized to Margaret as we walked off the floor. To my astonishment, there was Papa, expertly guiding Mrs. McCready through the steps.
Cade and Sam were stepping out whenever a dance they knew was called. Margaret and I did the same, but I don't think Elizabeth missed one dance all evening. Too soon midnight came, and supper was announced. Food and wines were laid out on tables upstairs, in a wide hallway like that on the ground floor.
We formed a merry party round a large table, except for Elizabeth, who was at another with Lieutenant Campbell, surrounded by regular officers. Reuben's was the one glum face in our midst. He was downright surly when he told me Captain Sherwood, Samuel and Scipio, had already left for Johnstown. At last, the ball ended, and we thanked Sir John and Lady Johnson. Lieutenant Campbell joined us for the walk back to the inn.
“A pity you don't live in Montreal,” I heard him tell Elizabeth.
“That's for the best,” Papa whispered to Cade and me.
Groans resounded through our room when Papa ordered us up before daylight. Bones were stiff, heads heavy after the wine, but the brigade would not wait for tardy revellers. When we arrived, Reuben was on the wharf, looking as sleepy as we felt. I noticed he made a bee line for the same bateau as us. He and Elizabeth sat up front, deep in conversation.
“Poor Dave,” I said. To my surprise I was thinking of Margaret, and I did not feel that familiar stab of jealousy when I linked Elizabeth to Dave.
“I pray you're wrong,” Papa whispered. “Reuben's too old for her. Besides, she's not ready to be serious yet.”
I spotted Margaret McCready and waved, but I was too shy to try Reuben's trick of riding in the same bateau. Sam would tease me without mercy if he noticed anything.
When, days later, we were walking beside the Long Sault Rapids, Reuben showed no enthusiasm for helping the crews. He seemed to think Elizabeth needed his arm. She put up with him for a bit then ran to me.
“Race you to the head of the rapids,” she cried.
As I dashed after her I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The old familiar Elizabeth was back. My sister was not as grown up as she had been acting of late.
Before we climbed back aboard our bateau, I managed a private word with Margaret. At the time Sam was ahead, helping the crew pull one of the boats. After Margaret returned to her own boat, I suddenly felt very much alone. From now on, when Papa wanted someone to do an errand to Buell's Bay, he could always call on me.
We reached that village in glorious Indian summer. Joyous yelps echoed over the water as the brigade drew towards shore. An ecstatic Goggie ran back and forth along the jetty. Dave was standing watching, equally ecstatic, I suspected. The dog's enthusiasm got the better of him. Dave lunged, too late. Goggie was in the water, swimming for our bateau.
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth moaned. “If we lift him in everyone'll get soaked.”
“He'll swim back and soak us on the jetty,” Cade laughed.
Whining and churning his legs the dog came on, turned and followed us. When the bateau was docking he swam to shore. As Cade expected, he waited to shake himself till he had leapt up and licked Elizabeth's face. We sprang away from the spray that rained from the black and white coat.
“May I drive you home, Mr. Seaman?” Dave enquired.
“Thank you, Dave, how thoughtful,” Papa said, smiling as he swung some of our baggage out of the boat.
Mr. Buell's hired boy winked at me. “Dave's been here every day this week looking for you.”
“Not for me,” said I, raising my eyesbrows in mock surprise.
As always, Mama was overjoyed to see us. “I've had the strangest feeling that you'd met with some sort of calamity,” she said, looking steadily at Papa.
“Trouble, my love?” Papa was all wide eyed innocence. “We've had a successful journey, and are hundreds of pounds richer.”
“We didâ¦Ow!” Sam yelped as Cade stepped hard on his toes.
“Blundering oaf!” Cade hissed.
Mama put her hands on her hips. “So! Something did happen.”
“We ran into Captain Fonda,” Papa admitted lamely.
“Sorry I let the cat out of the bag,” Sam said, contrite.
“Don't be,” Mama rejoined. “I had a feeling in my bones. If you'd tried to keep the secret I would have known you were hiding something. Just what did happen?”
“He recognized me and threatened me,” Papa began. “We took him before a magistrate and laid a charge. Now he's in jail and will soon be deported from Canada. We're truly safe from his vengeance at last.”
The brief recital was a marvel for what it did not reveal, but Mama was satisfied. I resolved to watch myself. The full story of the knife attack in our room in the London Coffee House must remain buried forever. Cold iron indeed!
What did matter was the success of our great timber raft. Money is not everything, of course, but those few hundred pounds made a wonderful difference to our way of life. Although we took other rafts as the years passed, none gave us the same thrill as that first great raft of the autumn of 1792.