Cape Breton Places & Foods

When you stand by the Old Town Clock on the Citadel Hill and gaze across the Harbor, to the town of Dartmouth, you will notice that the town is settled mostly in a valley between the hills. On one side is the high ground on which the golf links are located and on the other high hill is the site of the lovely home of H.R. Silver. On this hill I first saw the light of day. It was then known as Owen’s Farm. Between these high places the famous Dartmouth lakes are located, and they empty out to the Harbour of Halifax, down a controlled waterway of the Starr Manufacturing Company, and the rolling mill in Dartmouth Cove. I propose today to chat about the Dartmouth lakes where I spent my boyhood and the famous Shubenacadie Canal, which was built with the idea of a commercial waterway from Halifax Harbour to the Bay of Fundy.

The Dartmouth lakes which now bear the name of Lake Mic Mac and Lake Banook were for years known simply as First and Second Lakes. When I was a boy, living alongside First Lake with my grandparents, there were only one or two rowboats and the old steam-launch on the lakes, whose chief reason for existence seemed to me, to be a place where next summer’s ice could be obtained by my old friend Sam Chittick, but with McPhee’s Boat House, and the establishment of the Banook Canoe Club and later the Mic Mac Rowing Club, the scene completely changed.

The Dartmouth lakes became the playground of Dartmouth, and there is nothing finer anywhere. Today instead of just half a dozen houses at the foot of the lake on Prince Albert Road, and two of tree on the other side of the lake, one finds one of the nicest residential sections, particularly on the north side, and all along the Waverly Road lovely homes are springing up, where a few years ago only summer camps were to be found.

To the Dartmouth lakes on Natal Day, goes every Dartmouthian and thousands of Haligonians for the regatta and fireworks display, which outstrips anything in the way of celebration that takes place in the Province.

To those who did not own a boat or canoe, McPhee’s Boathouse proved a blessing. Here one could hire a boat and row up First Lake, through the tittles and on up Second lake to Port Wallis Locks, where family picnics would take place.

When this beauty spot was discovered, and after the usual romping around had been done and the family had settled down to eat on the banks of the canal leading up to the locks, nearly every small boy asked his parents what the big granite walls were for, and no doubt many of my listeners in Dartmouth have had to explain to their boys and girls the reason for this structure.

Only a few weeks ago I received a letter from a Dartmouth listener, whose small son had asked this very question and so for the benefit of this lad and others who want to know more about it, I propose to chat today about the Shubenacadie Canal, with which it was proposed to join the Harbor with the Dartmouth Lakes and then make a canal joining other lakes until the Shubenacadie River was reached as a waterway into the Minas Basin. The history of the Shubenacadie Canal covers a period from 1794 to 1870, nearly one hundred years, and ended in complete failure, as far as a commercial enterprise is considered, and now is nothing more than a magnificent scenic waterway, over which adventurous youths sometimes in summer, spend a couple of weeks, in a canoe trip, with several small portages between lakes; the locks long ago have fallen into disrepair. A great many members of the Banook Canoe Club will tell you of trips they have taken over this route, during the summer holidays.

At a very early period, the importance of obtaining easy access to that part of the Province lying on the shore of the Basin of Minas, by making a canal between Dartmouth and Shubenacadie Lakes and Rivers, attracted general attention. Sir John Wentworth, in a letter to Colonel Small, dated 27th May, 1794, says;” Your territory at Kennetcook will be much approved by my plan of rendering the Shubenacadie navigable, and a communication thence to Dartmouth by a chain of lakes. This great work I hope to get completed, if we are not interrupted by hostilities.”

Lake Charles, near the first Shubenacadie Lake, is three and a half miles from Halifax. From the southern end of this lake there is a descent through the Dartmouth Lakes to the harbor of Halifax, of ninety one feet; and from it’s northern extremity, a gradual descent through several beautiful lakes into the great Shubenacadie, thence in the channel of the river for a distance of about thirty miles to the junction of the waters of the Bay of Fundy. The lakes on this chain are the First and Second Dartmouth Lakes, Lake Charles, Lake William, Lake Thomas, Fletcher’s Lake, and Grand Lake.

In the year 1797, the matter of the canal was brought before the legislature. The House appropriated the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds, and appointed a committee to institute inquiry into everything connected with the construction of a canal from Dartmouth Cove, across the Province to the Shubenacadie River, where it falls into the Basin of Minas. This committee employed Mr. Isaac Hildreth, a civil engineer, who made a survey and reported it to the commissioners. The report was dated 15th November, 1797. He estimated that the cost of a four foot navigation would be 17983,202,17s [pounds] 6d.

In the session of 1798, a bill was brought before the legislature, for incorporating a company to complete the canal. A petition praying for legislative assistance had previously introduced and signed by William Forsyth, Andrew Belcher, and Richard Kidston. The governor of the province, Sir John Wentworth, being very friendly to the undertaking, addressed a letter dated 16th July, 1798, to the gentlemen who proposed to form the company for constructing the canal. He stated that the House of Assembly had addressed him, requesting that a patent might be issued toward carrying into effect the purposes intended in the said petition, and that he would give the necessary orders to expedite that patent for the advice and consent of His Majesty’s Council.

He goes on to say, that he is persuaded that the greatest benefit will be derived from the execution of the plan, “to the revenue and morals of the country, by making it the interest and convenience of numerous and increasing inhabitants to purchase the fair trader in or through Halifax; whence the frauds, lying, violence, and prejudices attendant on their commerce will naturally vanish.” Evidently bootleggers were in existence in those days.

Notwithstanding all this, the bill did not pass. The subject of a canal was therefore in abeyance until 1814. About this time the opinion was held by certain promoters of the scheme, that communication could be made between Lake William and the Harbor via Bedford Basin, A competent engineer, however, who was authorized to examine this line, disapproved of the proposal and gave his adherence to the original route. Further sums of money were then voted at the solicitation of Mr. Valentine Gill, a civil engineer.

About this time a small amount of money was voted by the Assembly was expended by Mr. Gill in removing obstructions from the river near Fletcher’s Bridge and rendering that point accessible during spring and autumn for large boats from the bay shore.

On opening the session of 1820, Lord Dalhousie, who was then governor, deemed the matter worthy of being included among the suggestions for the improvement of the Province. He said it promised great public advantages, and he suggested the employment of competent engineers to ascertain the extent of its difficulties. The House replied that it would carefully consider the interesting subject, Two hundred pounds were accordingly voted for a more particular survey but this sum being found to be inadequate, further proceedings were delayed until 1824, when an additional sum of three hundred pounds was appropriated to secure the services of a gentleman of competent ability for the execution for the important task.

In order to encourage and facilitate the formation of an association to construct the canal, an act to authorize the incorporation of such a company was passed by the assembly in 1844. at the close of the session, His Excellency Sir James Kempt said, “the internal communications of a country tend so manifestly to its improvement and to increase the productive industry of its population, that I shall lose no time in employing the means which you have placed at my disposal, to ascertain the practicability and expense of forming a canal to unite the waters of the Basin of Minas with the Harbour of Halifax.”

The Shubenacadie Canal Company was incorporated by letters patent dated 1st June, 1826. On Tuesday, the 26th of July, of the same year, the ceremony of commencing the canal took place. Sir James Kempt, the governor of the Province, attended by a large escort of the military and naval force, with artillery and rifle bands, also the officers of the Grand Lodge, the Royal Albion, and the Lodges Nos.4, 8 188, 265 of the Free and Accepted Masons, turned out, together with a large number of spectators, to do honor to the occasion. They proceeded to Port Wallis, three miles from Dartmouth, at the pass between the Second Dartmouth Lake, and Lake Charles; and there ground was broken by Lord Dalhousie who was visiting Halifax at the time.

The funds of the company were increased by the sale of stocks in England to the amount of twenty seven hundred pounds sterling, and also by a loan of twenty thousand pounds sterling by the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury. In consideration of this loan, the Lords of the Commissioners of the Treasury received a mortgage of the canal. The total expenditure of this company up to December, 1835, was in currency eighty seven thousand eight hundred and thirty pounds,

Notwithstanding Mr. Hall’s abilities and attention, and the approval of his designs by Thomas Telford, the consulting engineer, the works in the locks and dams proved very faulty. Every winter the frost did great damage. The contractors declared their inability to proceed with and complete their work. The company itself undertook to make good the damages, but with no better result. The dam broke at the northern end of Lake Charles, and immediately the costly works at Fletcher’s Lake and at the Grand Lake were destroyed by the great rush of water. This disaster proved a deathblow to the Shubenacadie Canal Company.

While the work had been going on, Dartmouth had profited materially by the enterprise. From the beginning, it had been difficult to procure suitable workmen, and the vessel called the Corsair was accordingly charted by Mr. Kidd, who proceeded to Scotland and returned in the spring of 1827 with about forty stonecutters and masons with their families. These men labored at the locks for about two or three years. They were industrious and skillful artistsans, and infused a spirit of emulation in their fellow-laborers, which has long borne good fruit in Nova Scotia.

After the unfortunate disaster caused by the breaking of the dam at Lake Charles, the works were inspected. And in the years 1835 and 1836, a most elaborate survey, with plans, estimates and report, was made to the order of Charles R. Fairbanks, Esq. It was estimated that the cost of the works would be four hundred and eighty seven thousand three hundred and seventy five pounds.

The mortgage made by the company to the British government was now foreclosed and by a deed in chancery it was conveyed to the province of Nova Scotia on 11th of June, 1851. The properties not covered by the mortgage were sold in the following year to satisfy judgment, and the whole was purchased for the Province by Hon. Mc Nab as trustee.

In 1853, the Inland Navigation Company was incorporated, having a capital of thirty thousand pounds. It purchased from the government of Nova Scotia the property and works of the late Shubenacadie Canal Company. The opening of the canal was again proceeded with, under the direct supervision of the new company’s engineer, Charles William Fairbanks, Esq. All their cash, twenty thousand pounds, having been expended, the company was obliged to borrow money by mortgage of all their property. The canal progressed very slowly, but in 1861 it opened for business throughout. A steam vessel of sixty tons, the Avery, named after the president of the company, Dr. James F. Avery, having cleared at the custom house, Halifax reported, via the canal, at Maitland, and returned again to Halifax Harbour.

On the 11th of June, 1862, the whole property and works were sold by the sheriff. They were purchased by a company called, the Lake and River Navigation Company. No boats were provided by this company, but private individuals placed on the canal three steamboats and twelve scows, together with one eighty ton barge. Consequently some business was done. A large quantity of timber was delivered at Halifax, also many thousand cords of wood, with building materials, coal and supplies for the gold mine were transported from Halifax. The Canal was thus worked at a small profit by the Lake and River Navigation Company, until they sold the property in February, 1870, for $50,000. Lewis Piers Fairbanks, Esq. was the purchaser. It was again doomed to go to destruction. Gold was discovered at the summit reservoir, and the Mines Department without any regard to the rights of the owner of the canal-lands there, disputed Mr. Fairbanks title, and the effect of the Provincial Government deed made by the Hon. James McNab, trustee for the province in 1875. One thousand dollars in damages were awarded to Mr. Fairbanks against the government for trespass. While this matter was under consideration, the drawbridge at Waverly was removed by the provincial authorities, and a fixed bridge erected in its place. This was a bar against all passage. The Dominion Railway or Public Works Department removed the bridge at Enfield, and replaced it by another bridge, whose girders were so low as to prevent the passage of a boat on the River Station. the owner, harassed by persons opulent and in high places, was obliged to realize the fact , that the completion of this inland river communication did not fulfill in any degree the expectations so earnestly expressed by Sir John Wentworth in regard to the great improvement to the “revenge and morals” of the country.

And that’s the story of the Shubenacadie Canal. Perhaps it’s just as well. If the Dartmouth Lakes had become a commercial waterway, thousands of people would have lost one of the finest playgrounds-camping sites and residential sections. And my only hope is, that the town fathers will see to it that it is kept beautiful, and that a large section will always be available to the John Q. Public and his family to enjoy themselves in God’s fresh air amidst such gorgeous scenery.

As we gather together, again around the Old Town Clock and gaze at the harbor, I am again thinking of the days of sail, of the days that the wharfs berthed those tall ships, that are, alas for the most pert no more.

Engines have taken the place of sails, wide flung to catch the breeze; steel plates have taken the place of Fundy spruce. Fortunately, the romance of sail remains and through these weekly meetings on the Old Citadel, all the glamour of a day that is gone forever can still be ours.

Some months ago, when it was my honor to have been serving with the Canadian Active Army I met an old friend, Bert Robinson, who was also serving and whose unit is now overseas somewhere in England. He had joined up in Winnipeg where he had been living for the last five or six years, and as he was the only Maritimer among the officers of his unit, we naturally got in a corner and talked about many things. My friend was formerly a newspaper man and had written many stories along the lines of those I tell you each week, and so today I’m going to tell you a yarn that he told me, and believe me it’s a corker! If you are superstitious you’ll be all ears-I think you’ll listen anyway.

A number of people wonder where I get my information every week-well the answer is from all sorts of places. From historical papers, from History books, from visiting many of the historic places in Nova Scotia., from talking with those who have made a study of things historical and by picking up information here, there, and everywhere and using my imagination and putting it broadcast story form, sometimes from direct information collected for me from which I make a story, sometimes people give me clues as to where to find a story, and sometimes from a friend like the story I will tell you today.

Anyone who makes even the most careless study of the days of windships cannot fail to be very much impressed by the superstitions that held sway both in the forecastle and in the after cabin. Some of these like the tale of the Flying Dutchman came down to modern days from the Middle Ages, but were so real to old shellbacks that there are still men alive who tell of seeing the Dutchman, ever beating south against a driving south-cast gale around the Horn, but never making any headway.

Too, it is a matter of record that many skippers refused to sail unless among the crew was numbered a Dane or a Finn, for these people were supposed to have supernatural power over the winds. Then, too, there was the kobold, a sprite that played the fiddle in the rigging of a ship that was doomed to e wrecked-and countless other superstitions. Old seamen will tell of haunted ships without number, and a whole library could be written on superstitions of the sea.

It is possible that many of these superstitions had some basis in actual occurrence, for wonderful things happen at sea just as they do on land. Today, I want to tell you of a very remarkable happening, a happening that is still without any satisfactory explanation. Some, after hearing this story, will dismiss it with a shrug of the shoulders and say,” Coincidence,” others will see it in the power of an arm far mightier than that of the fickle goddess of chance. But here is the story.

In 1872, the year that the Marquis of Dufferin became the Governor-General of Canada, there was a barque launched in Quebec. In honor of the new Governor-General’s consort, the barque was named the Countess of Dufferin. Like most wooden ships, her story is almost unknown until the very end of her life. The last voyage of the Countess of Dufferin began from Saint-John in December, 1891. Her captain was Captain Doble, and her cargo deal and lumber; the Countess of Dufferin carried a very heavy deck-load, as well as the cargo in her hold.

When she left Saint John, it was with a following south-west breeze that kicked up the white-caps and sped the barque on her way with every inch of canvas drawing. But as it is often the case, the fair weather did not last. The barometer began to fall rapidly, until the mercury touched only the twenty-eight inch mark. Every sign of a heavy blow hovered around the Countess of Dufferin, until on Christmas Day, 1891, the gale began.

It set in from the northward.

It set in from the northward, almost the worst possible direction, for the seas were running from the south, and a gale from the north sent tremendous cross-seas hurtling at the barque. Feeling none too safe with his heavy deck-load of deal, which could not but help make the vessel top heavy, Captain Doble took every precaution that he could. He reduced sail to the main top-sail, and, as a further precaution, he set that goose-winged.

First a heavy sea swept over the Countess from astern, and plunged into the forward cabin, completely ruining the supply of provisions that were kept there. Captain Doble ordered his men to get two barrels of apples which were in the stateroom, bring them on deck and make them fast. They got the apples, but before the barrels could be made fast a tremendous sea swept them overboard. That was the last of the Countess of Dufferin’s provisions.

The next discovery-even more ghastly than the discovery of the loss of food-was that salt water had gotten into the drinking water, and made it quite unfit for use. Comment on this is needless.

Then the barque began to behave so badly that the deck-load was jettisoned. Even this, however, did not make the decks safe for the men at the pumps. There was no danger of the barque sinking, for the cargo would keep her afloat. She would wallow, a water-logged hulk, through the sea, until her crew perished of starvation and thirst, or until they were washed overboard by the seas that swept over her every minute. And there was always the possibility of rescue-a hope that, no matter what the circumstances, never lefr the minds of the great seaman of the days of wooden ships.

Such was the condition of the Countess of Dufferin on the twenty-ninth day of December, 1891, I want you to remember that date-the twenty ninth day of December.

Now, while all this was taking place, the ship Arlington, under the command of Captain Samuel Bancroft Davis, of Yarmouth, was on her way from the old country to New York. What was a disastrous wind for the Countess of Dufferin was a fair wind for the Arlington, and she was in a fair way to set a record for crossing the Atlantic, when on the twenty-eighth day of December, one of those inexplicable events that happen once in a lifetime, occurred.

In the middle of the night, during the second mate’s watch, Captain Davis suddenly appeared on deck.”Luff!” he shouted. “Hail o’distress! Luff!”

The helmsman spun the wheel hard up, the Arlington’s head swung into the wind, and the second mate ran to Captain Davis’s side.

“Where’s the hail from, sir?” he asked.

“Didn’t you hear it?” demanded the captain, in astonishment.

“No’ sir,” replied the second mate, wonderingly.

“Lookout, ahoy!” he shouted. “Did you hear a hail of distress?”

“No sir,” came the lookout’s instant answer.

This was a puzzler for the captain. He questioned every man of the watch, but none of them had heard a hail of distress. He turned in perplexity to the second mate.

“I can’t understand this,” he said. “I was below, asleep, when I heard a hail of distress as plain as could as be. Why, they even gave their position=fifty two north, twenty one west.”

The second mate gasped
“That’s a day’s sail to the north of us, sir!” he exclaimed. “You must have been dreaming!”

But, dream or no dream, the hail was so vivid to Captain Davis that he ordered the Arlington’s course changed, then and there, to reach the spot of which he had heard in is dream. This took the Arlington two points off her course, far from the regular ship lanes, and, to speak plainly, some of the crew began to doubt the Captain’s sanity. There were many stories currant of skippers whose reason had fled them, and who had gravely endangered the safety of their ship and crew to satisfy insane whims. The Arlington’s crew feared that such a situation now faced them. No amount of persuasion however, would induce Captain Davis to change his mind, and he was not a man with whom one could argue; therefore, the Arlington sped northward, while the officers and crew watched their captain with anxious faces.

The course had been changed early in the morning on the twenty-eighth of December. All that day, the Arlington kept on hr way. The night passed, and the next day, without the least sign that Captain Davis had any ground whatever for his peculiar behavior. Then, on the night of the twenty ninth of December…the date I asked you to remember…as the Arlington neared the position given in the Captain’s dream, additional lookouts were posted, and, at midnight, Captain Davis himself came on deck and took watch.

Nervously, he paced the deck for more than an hour. There seemed to be nothing around them except windy darkness. The Arlington ploughed steadily plunged through the water.

Suddenly there came a sharp cry from one of the lookouts. “Something on the lee bow!” he shouted. “It’s got no lights-I can’t make it out!”

Instantly Captain Davis jumped into action. “Luff!” he shouted to the helmsman. Then, to the lookout. “Are we going to foul it?”

“No, sir!” cried the lookout. We’re clearing it… it’s going by on the lee quarter!”

Now, for all that he was thoroughly convinced that his errand was one of mercy, Captain Davis was very much angered at any craft that would sail on a night like that without any lights…or any other night, for that matter. A vessel without lights is a menace to navigation anywhere. Therefore, very wrathfully, Captain Davis seized his speaking trumpet and shouted as the Arlington went past the stranger.

“What ship is that?” he called angrily. “Why haven’t you your lights up?”

And through the darkness came the answer-

“Barque Countess of Dufferin-Saint John to Londonderry! We’re water-logged-haven’t anything to put lights up with. Please standby until morning and take us off!”

The astonishment on board the Arlington can better be imagined than described. Captain Davis however, was not one bit surprised. This was exactly what he expected. He sprang to the rail, and shouted in reply that the Arlington would standby until morning.

With daybreak, the task of transferring the Countess’s crew to the Arlington began. It was a difficult task, for the seas were still running high, and the gale had not abated. Two of the Arlington’s boats were smashed to splinters before a third one managed to reach the water intact, and to remain afloat. Here another Yarmouth name must be mentioned in our story-that of Hemmeon, the first mate of the Arlington. The task of rescue fell to him, and it is a credit to Yarmouth seamanship that the rescue was completed.

By early afternoon, the Arlington was again on her way to New York.

In concluding our tale, we should mention, that on the thirtieth day of December, the day of the rescue, the Arlington’s officers were able to take an observation and calculate her position. It was worked out as Latitude fifty-two degrees, thirty minutes north, Longitude twenty-one degrees, twenty minutes west…very close to the fifty-two north, twenty one west of Captain Davis’s dream.

As we sit and watch the shipping, I am easily persuaded to talk of the sea and on this occasion I am going to ask you to bring to mind one of the greatest riddles of the sea which concerns a Nova Scotian-built ship. Now all you seafaring men sit up and take notice, perhaps you have the answer to this mystery of the sea.

Just a week ago, our British United Press ticker carried a news item telling us that a yacht with sails set, was picked up at sea with nobody aboard, and that the authorities were endeavoring to locate her home port and owner. In this day of strange happenings at sea during war time, this item did not cause much of a stir. There was a point in the news item which interested me more than anything else, and that was the fact, that the yacht was picked up at a point at sea within twelve miles to the spot, where the famous Nova Scotian vessel, the Mary Celeste, was picked up about seventy years ago, with no living soul aboard, and to this day no definite and satisfactory explanation has been given out.

When-if ever-will someone come forward with an explanation of that mysterious episode of the sea, the finding of the Mary Celeste? By this is meant, a real explanation- one that will satisfy even those ancient mariners who listen to a tale of the sea, shake their heads gravely, and say “Couldn’t ha’ happened.” The one who explains this mystery satisfactory must tell why there was but one boat missing from the docks of the Nova Scotia brigantine; why, in apparently excellent weather, the captain and crew of the vessel deserted her; why one hatch cover, overturned was found lying on her decks; why there was no traces of a struggle other than spatters of blood here and there over her decks; why the hip’s log was left in the captain’s quarters, and all the other papers and instruments were taken; why nothing ahs ever been heard from the eleven souls who were on board, all of whom, including the captain’s wife, and little girl, must have perished.

There have been many attempts at explaining all this; but none seems to be satisfactory. Briefly, the known history of the Mary Celeste is as follows: She was built at Spencer’s Island, N.S., in the Dewis shipyards, about 1865. Launched under the name Amazon she made a few profitable voyages for her Bluenose owners, and then she went ashore on the rocky coast of Cape Breton, and pounded her bottom out. She was sold to J.J. Winchester & Co., of New York, was repaired, and she went to sea again under the name Mary [not Marie as it is often given] Celeste.

For one voyage, she loaded oil and spirits for the Mediterranean at an East River [New York] pier and set sail. From that day until she was sighted by the British brig Dei Gratia, her story is wrapped in mysterious silence. The Dei Gratia sighted her a few miles off the Azores group. The Mary Celeste was stated to have all sail set, was yawning frightfully, and was falling off continually in the light breeze that was blowing. Mystified by her behavior, the Dei Gratia sent a boat across to the Mary Celeste, and discovered abandoned, in the state mentioned beforehand. Everything otherwise was in perfect order, even some sewing and a small bottle of oil rested upon the sewing machine in the captain’s wife’s cabin.

There, sketchily told, is the greatest mystery that the sea has ever known, those who wish to explain the matter usually base their explanations upon the fact that the cargo carried by the Mary Celeste was highly inflammable.

For example, Frederick William Wallace, the dean of Bluenose sea-story writers, offers the following. On her way across the Atlantic, the Mary Celeste fell in with a ship carrying powder or some equally dangerous cargo. She was on fire, and while the menace of the flames was not immediate, it was enough to make Captain Braggs of the Mary Celeste, stand be the crippled ship. During the night, the wind fell, and a stray current bore the burning ship rapidly down upon the Mary Celeste. Terrified, the crew of the latter vessel crowded into a boat, and put away from the danger. At the entreaties of those on the burning ship they put back to try to take them in their boat, with the result that the boat capsized, and the crews of both were drowned. A breeze carried the Mary Celeste away from the burning ship, and saved her, to be discovered by Dei Gratia.

Mr. Wallace admits that this is not the best possible explanation. The open hatch is not disposed of; neither are the blood stains or the hacked bows taken into account. Farther than that, this presupposes that another vessel disappeared at about the time of the finding of the Mary Celeste. There is no record of such a vessel.

Another explanation, from the United States of America, is along somewhat the same lines. The Mary Celeste, it says, ran into very warm weather, and the captain and mate became fearful lest the cargo of whale oil ignite spontaneously. To cool off the hold, they opened one of the hatches. Their action as apparently too late; a huge fountain of burning gas spewed forth from the hold, and terrified, they took to a boat and rowed away a few miles and watched for another and fatal explosion. But that explosion did not come. A breeze came up, and carried away the brigantine, out of their sight, and so they perished in the boat. The blood stains are explained by saying that the cook, who was cutting some meat at the time of the explosion, became exited and cut himself; blood from his wound, as he ran excitedly about, spattered over the decks.

But this theory, plausible as it is, neglects the hacked bows, and leaves unexplained a very important matter.. The hatch-cover was overturned; no deep-water sailor would remove a hatch-cover, and lay it down upside down. It is just not done.

Arthur Conan Doyle, who was intrigued by the tale, wrote a story intended to explain the mystery. Unfortunately, all that the great creator of Sherlock Holmes explained was the hacked bows. These he explained to perfection by saying that a diving platform had been built there, and had been carried away in a squall. The rest of his story is so at variance with the known facts that it is almost completely forgotten.

All these explanations were given on the assumption that the facts concerning the ship were as follows:

The Mary Celeste overtaken and when boarded, sound from truck to keel, all shipshape and undamaged, and under full spread of canvas; her galley fire still warm, and food upon the stove; wash hung to dry in the fo’castle, with the crews money, pipes, and razors laying about; spread on the cabin table a half eaten meal, including a dish of porridge, a boiled egg slicked open at one end, three cups of lukewarm tea; besides these an uncorked bottle of cough medicine. A watch ticks hanging from a nail over the captain’s berth.. On the desk in the mate’s cabin is a piece of paper, on the paper an unfinished sum. The cash box has not been touched; the cargo appears to be in good order; the pumps are dry. There is no lack of food or drinking water-no sign of fire, or panic, or disorder. Yet, every soul that was aboard was vanished into the unknown without a trace.

Just lately another account of this great mystery ship has been written by George S. Bryan of Philadelphia, who claims that all former accepted accounts were all wrong. Mr. Bryan states that the Mary Celeste was not overtaken, she was met; she was not under the spread of canvas, she was under a lower topsail and two jibs with upper topsail and foresail blown away and the rest of her sails furled; her galley fire was out, all cooking utensils were washed and hanging in their places, and there was no sign of food being prepared; there was no wash hanging in the forecastle; there was no food of any kind on the kitchen [cabin] table., and no bottle of cough mixture; there was no watch ticking anywhere, there was no unfinished sum on a piece of paper; there was no cashbox aboard the vessel; the pumps were not dry, for the Mary Celeste had three and a half feet of water in the hold. All this the author brings out clearly in his text, without a shadow of misunderstanding.

This latest expert feels like the case itself was strange and mysterious, indeed; yet it must have had a simple explanation. The Mary Celeste was met by another vessel off the Azores in 1872 sailing free under shortened canvas as described; there was no one on board, there were no signs of violence, there was every indication that she had been abandoned in haste, the ship’s papers and chronometer were missing. Captain Briggs had his wife and baby along-there were ten people in the ship’s company-no word of them has ever come to light.

The cargo, consisting of alcohol in barrels, appeared to be in perfect condition. The fore and lazaret hatches were open the water in the vessel evidently had come from the seas shipped while she was sailing abandoned, and this was further proved by the fact that the binnacle had been knocked over and the compass smashed by a boarding sea.

The other vessel, the British brig Dei Gratia, put her mate and a couple of seamen aboard the Mary Celeste; they pumped her out, after which she did not leak to any extent, and sailed her into Gibraltar. There Admiralty proceedings were held, testimony was taken, surveys were made, salvage was awarded and the Mary Celeste finally went on under another crew to complete her voyage to Genoa. Thereafter she sailed under the American flag for eleven years, at last was wrecked off Port au Prince in Haiti, in an insurance scandal that ran through the Boston courts.

As for a final explanation of the Mary Celeste mystery this latest account favours the idea that the cargo of alcohol leaked and developed gases in the hold; that the fore hatch possible blew off with the sound of an explosion frightening the ship’s company; that they took to the boat, the wind being light or calm, and they hung astern at the end of a long rope and that a sudden squall parted the rope and the ship sailed away. The latest account also brings out the fact that Captain Morehouse, master on the Dei Gratia who was a friend of Captain Briggs, by the way, had a similar theory and claims that all seafaring men naturally hold to simple and rational explanation.

Old seamen about Nova Scotia, in discussing the Mary Celeste mystery, seem to be of the opinion that there was somebody alive on the vessel when the boarding crew from the Dei Gratia arrived. Indeed, this was the opinion of the British Admiralty Court, for an exhausted inquiry based upon this supposition was made by that body. Nothing came of the inquiry however, and the matter was allowed to drop.

But even today, when you mention the Mary Celeste to one of the old Bluenose skippers, he will shake his head and say, “Ah that mate from the Dei Gratia could have told a lot more than he did.” And , ask as you will, that is all they will say. Perhaps this latest author has the right answer and all previous accounts were twisted. You can take your choice, and so there my friends there you have the story of the Mary Celeste with the different explanations given. I suppose someone else will write a story about this mystery some day and so it will go on and on. As far as we are concerned we must leave it to others to settle.

As we think about the war and it’s activities, and the part this old “warden of the Honor of the North” is again playing our thoughts go back over the years, before there were any of the modern weapons of destruction, and when it took weeks to find out what was going on over the other side of the ocean and I promise to chat about the defenses of this port at the time when Halifax was first founded. Of course I cannot talk about any of the present day defense precautions, I also want to chat about a Canadian Regiment, The Princess Louise Fusiliers with which I had the honor of association, over a period of many years, and whose members have in previous troublesome times, as well as this war, carried with honor the name of its home city, Halifax.

I have no doubt many of you, have walked through Point Pleasant Park in the south end of the city, and have looked at the Martello Tower, or perhaps come across Chain Rock on the shores of the North West Arm, and have wondered why those big ring bolts were put in a large solid rock, or perhaps you heard about a boom of logs and chains which were anchored to these ring bolts. If you are like me, that much information would start you hunting and wanting to know how they defended the city when it was first founded, and you would not be satisfied until you had inspected whatever fortifications…or ruins…there were left standing, and imagined yourself living in those days, wondering all the time how you would have stood up to the trials and tribulations of the early settlers, and the more you found out, the greater your admiration would be, for those hardy pioneers.

As you are all aware Halifax was founded in the year 1749. From the year 1740 to ’54 or ’55, the defense of the town consisted of palisade or pickets placed upright, with block houses built out of logs at convenient distances. This fence extended from where St. Mary’s Cathedral now stands to the beach at the south end, and on the north along the line of Jacob Street to the harbor.

A large portion of the front of the present Citadel Hill was originally private property; a small redoubt stood near the summit with a flag staff and guard house, but no traces of any regular or permanent fortification appear until the commencement of the American Revolution. There were several block houses south of the town…at Point Pleasant Park, Fort Massey, and other places. A line of block houses was built at a very early period of the settlement, extending from the head of the North West Arm to the Basin, as a defense against the Indians. These block houses were built of square timber, with loopholes for musketry-they were of great thickness, and had parapets around the top and a platform at the base, and a well for the use of the guard. In 1755, four batteries were erected along the beach…the center one, called the middle or Governor’s Battery, stood where the King’s Wharf now is…another where the Ordinance Yard was afterwards built, called the Five or Nine Gun Battery; the third was situated further north, and the fourth called the South or Grand Battery, where the Nova Scotia Hotel now stands and which property was for years known as the Lumber Yard. These fortifications were removed about the year 1783, and the ground appropriated to their present purposes. The Ordinance Yard, then a swamp around the battery, and the King’s Wharf were both filled up and leveled by stone and rubbish removed from the five-acre lots of the peninsula which were beginning to be cleared by this time.

There were block houses along the beach, near the dockyard, built by Col. Spry about 1775. The drawings of the town, published about the year 1774 or 1776 show a strong fortification on George’s Island. About the year 1778, the Citadel Hill appears to have been for the first time, regularly fortified; the summit was then about eighty feet higher than at present; the works consisted of an octagonal tower of wood of the blockhouse kind, having a parapet and a small tower on top with port holes for cannon…the whole encompassed by a ditch and ramparts of earth and wood, with pickets placed close together slanting outwards. Below this there were several outworks of the same description extending down the sides of the hill a considerable distance.

The Lumber Yard, Ordinance Yard and King’s Wharf were all commenced about 1784-‘5. The North Barracks were built soon after the settlement. The buildings known as the South Barracks were erected under the directions of the Duke of Kent, as also were the North Barracks destroyed by fire some years ago.

A building called the Military Office stood at the south corner of the market wharf. It was used as a military office until 1790 or perhaps later. At this time a guard was kept at the Prince’s old playhouse, where an old Acadian School building now stands, and is used as a printer’s shop on Argyle Street, by my old friend Jack Ross. Jacob Street was a barrack site as early as 1769. It was the site of one of the old blockhouse forts erected at the first settlement. It continued to bear the name of Grenadier Fort until removed.

The old wooden fortifications were removed from Citadel Hill about the time Prince Edward was Commander-in-Chief.

The remains of this work were removed at the commencement of the present fortifications. Much of the old work was performed by the militia drafts from the country, embodied at Halifax at the close of the 18th century particularly in 1793, during Sir John Wentworth’s administration, and at subsequent periods.

Towers on George’s Island, Point Pleasant, The East Battery, Meagher’s Beach and York Redoubt were built at the commencement of the 19th century. The Prince established signal stations between Halifax and Annapolis, the first post being on the hill behind his residence on Bedford Basin. He leveled the ground called the Grand Parade. The Chain Battery at Point Pleasant was the first constructed, it is said, by Lord Colville, in or about 1761. The present ring bolts were put down during the war of 1812-15. The old blockhouse at Fort Needham and one on the south-east corner of the intersection of the present North and Windsor Streets, which was then the road leading to the Basin called the Blue Bell Road, were built during the American Revolution, and reconstructed during the Prince’s time. You see Windsor Street was evidently an extension of what we now call Bell Road; apparently the proper name is Blue Bell Road.

As early as 1761, there was a good road to Point Pleasant; it was a continuation of Water Street and was said to have passed through or near the site of the Lumber Yard grounds, where the Nova Scotian Hotel now stands, following the shore of the harbor.

Having taken you back to the early days of the foundation of Halifax, nearly two hundred years ago, I can not let this occasion pass without reminding my listeners of one very important present day link with our past, which every one of you must come across every day.

Do you know that the young men you see in the King’s uniform wearing as a cap badge a brass grenade, with the words Princess Louise Fusiliers written on it, are members of one of Canada’s most famous regiments; one whose history goes right back to the founding of Halifax in 1749?

The history of the Regiment is traced to December 10th, 1749, when Hon. Edward Cornwallis mustered the settlers of Halifax on the Grand Parade and formed ten companies under captains. This was the beginning of the Halifax Militia in which every man from 16 to 60 was trained. Throughout the first winter 150 men were on duty each night. Men of the regiments were also employed during the summers of 1749 and ’50 erecting palisades about the town.

In1753 Gov. Lawrence formed these companies into a “Regiment of Militia of the Peninsula of Halifax and parts adjacent.” Gov. Lawrence used the regiment during December and January in guarding the Town, whilst the King’s troops were in Lunenburg. During the strenuous days of 1756 the regiment was held in readiness to help repel any attempt by the French. The war with Spain in 1762 again saw the Halifax Militia erecting a battery on McNabs, and strengthening the various posts, and drilling daily. In 1775 Col. Butler was ordered to supply guards for the Town and the regiment was commonly known at this time as the “Town Militia.” In 1777 an expeditionary force under Brigade Major Studholm, fought against the Americans on the St. John River and included men of the “Halifax Regiment.” In the defense dispositions of 1788 three hundred and fifty men of the regiment were assigned to oppose landings.

During the Loyalist immigration, the unit supplied patrols for the Town. Hostilities with France in 1793 brought the regiment to the fore, two battalions being formed, called the 1st and 2nd Halifax Regiments, and they reported as being in good order by the Government. The Duke of Kent also used the regiment for work on the Citadel the summer of 1797 and later that year 400 men did Garrison duty.

In 1799 Town Patrols were supplied. Alarms in 1804 found them ready and in 1808 more guards were supplied. During the war of 1812-15 the regiment continuously did duty in the Fortress. The Fenian Raid in 1866 saw the embodiment of the 1st Halifax Regiment and its sister units. At Confederation the old unit took the name of Halifax Volunteer Battalion with the numeral 66 and in 1870 became known as the 66th Battalion, Princess Louise Fusiliers.

It was chosen to form the guard of honor for the Princess Louise, when she arrived in Canada, with the Marquis of Lorne, afterwards the Duke of Argyle, on the occasion of his appointment as Canada’s Governor General of Canada in 1879.

Three companies in 1885 were attached to Halifax Provisional Battalion and preceded to North West Canada. The Unit was credited to supplying the largest quota of volunteers to the South Africa Contingents in 1899-1900.

During the Great War the regiment did duty from 5th August, 1914, to May 31, 1918, also supplying 54 officers and 850 other ranks to the C.E, F. overseas.

On reorganization in 1919 the regiment dropped the numerals 66 and became the Princess Louise Fusiliers, perpetuating the 64th Battalion C. E. F.

The following honors are borne on the Colors: North West Canada, South Africa 1899-1900, Somme 1916, Arras 1917, and Amiens.

The regiment is allied with The Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers who have just celebrated their 250th Anniversary and keeps up regular correspondence with this old British Regiment.

In December 1936 the regiment became incorporated with the 6th Canadian Machine gun Battalion and is now known as The Princess Louise Fusiliers [Machine Gunners], and since this war began, it became a motorized battalion of one of Canada’s overseas divisions.

The colors of the old 1st Halifax Regiment were carried from 1900-1901 and then were deposited in St. Paul’s Church in 1903. The present colors were given by the ladles of Halifax and were presented by His Royal Highness. The Duke of York, who later became King George the Fifth at a parade on the commons during his visit here in 1901.

On the rolls of this famous old regiment one fins the names of such well known Halifax men as Major Gen. R.W. Rutherford, who was in command at M.D. 6 in 1914. Sir john S.D. Thompson, Col. the Hon. G.S. Harrington, Major H.B. Stairs, D.S.O., who distinguished himself in South Africa. Lieut. Col. G. Stairs of the Canadian Grenadier Guards, Lieu. Col. A.Q. Blois and D.S. Bauld of the 25th Battalion, Hon. Col. the Rev. W.J. Armitage, col. W.M. Humphrey, Sir Charles Tupper, Col. H.L. Chipman, Lt. Col. A. King, Lt. Col. R.B. Simmonds, and last but not least, Col. B.A. Weston, who must be known to a great majority of my listeners, and who joined the regiment as far back as 1865.At the outbreak of this war this grand old soldier came up to watch the regiment being mobilized. There are many more, too numerous to mentioned.

And still this splendid unit is carrying on in this war. Already a number of its officers and men are overseas with the first, second, and third divisions, and every officer and man is enrolled for overseas service and awaiting the day when the regiment will join their comrades overseas in the motorized division to which it now belongs.

There are several amusing stories told in the regiment and perhaps one outstanding is how the regiment got its nickname “The Plungers.” It appears that in the old days, perhaps when they used to drill in Pykes Field, which is the land enclosed by Spring Garden Road, South Park Street, Sackville Street, and Queen Street, one of the officers took them on a march out Bell Road, and headed them straight for the Egg Pond.

The officer failed to give the order to wheel to the left when they came to the bend in the road and it is said that they marched straight through the water in the pond…it was considerably deeper than it is now. Henceforth they were known as the Plungers.

Another amusing story I once heard, but cannot verify, and certainly do not take any responsibility for, concerned a certain Commanding Officer during the reign of the late beloved King George V. It appears that the Colonel and some of the Senior Officers were about to sign up some recruits on a very cold day and before going into the Orderly room, the Colonel decided he would like some stimulant and was served a brand of whisky known as King George IV. I don’t know how many he had, but it is said that he must have been greatly impressed with its excellence because when he was swearing in the first recruit, he asked the man to swear allegiance to King George Fourth instead of King George the Fifth. Luckily his adjutant was standing by and quickly corrected the error.

You know another point has come to my attention while speaking of the Princess Louise Fusiliers. The Old Town Clock which we love to talk about was used in the year 1833 as the Armory for the 1st Halifax Regiment, the predecessors of the men we now honor so readily for the part they are playing along with their comrades of Canada’s active Army. I hope many of the young men going in the Army anyway, will by this time next week, have on the King’s uniform, when we meet for more tales told under the Old Town Clock and will be wearing the famous grenade, the badge of the Princess Louise Fusiliers of Halifax. To Col. C.C. Mitchell, E.D., all his officers, N.C.O.’s and men who are serving overseas with this unit, which we are proud to call our own regiment, may I say-Cheerio and all the best.

Not far from where I live in Halifax, is located Gorsebrook Golf Course, and to the south of what is now the Club house, a garden is surrounded by a stone wall. At the south east corner, one of the stones has subscribed on it-”This wall was built in 1915″-This house and grounds are part of the old Collins estate, and the date on the stone and the history of the place has caused my thoughts to wander back for something to interest you of those stirring times, and so I remind you of the most remarkable privateer story that Nova Scotia has ever given us.

This particular story has nothing to do with the Collins family, but as they were interested in shipping in those days, no doubt the story I am to tell you, was well known to those who frequented this old garden at Gorsebrook.

In the olden days, Navy Departments used to encourage private citizens to outfit ships in time of war. These ships were not subject to naval discipline, they were not part of the navy, nor did they ever, when it could be avoided, take part in any naval engagement. They were designed solely to prey upon merchant ships, to destroy the commerce of that nation with whom their country was at war. As a reward for their actions, they were allowed to keep and sell as prizes, the ships and cargoes which they captured, and for authority, so that they would not be regarded simply as pirates, they carried documents known as letters of marque, granted them by their government.

These ships were very fast, and often carried quite heavy armament. Their smallness and their speed enabled them to escape from hostile warships, and their arms made them much more than a match for any luckless merchantman whom they might meet. If it so happened, however, that a hostile warship ever did get a good chance at a privateer, there was small mercy shown, for regular men of the navy looked upon privateers as nothing more or less as pirates. Indeed, two of the most famous pirates ever known, Captain John Kidd, and Captain Henry Morgan, began their careers as privateers.

During the war of 1812, The United States of America, being a new country, had almost no navy whatever. Therefore the government, more than a little dismayed at the one hundred and six ships of the line that the English had gathered at Halifax, put forth an especial plea for privateers, calling attention to the fact that here was a chance both to serve the new republic and to grow rich off prize money. Within a very short time, there were twenty-four heavily armed, very fast privateers sailing out of New York and making themselves no end of a nuisance to British shipping. Among these was a vessel known as the Teazer, which was particularly active. In a few short weeks, she had captured two ships, six brigs and six schooners. It is no wonder then, that as much effort was directed toward capturing the Emden during the early days of the last war, or the Bismarck in this war.

But to get back to my story last, in December, 1812, she was run down. The San Domingo, a huge warship, cornered the little privateer, captured her and burned her.

Her officers were allowed to go home on parole: that is, they were freed upon their promising that they would not again during the war bear arms against Great Britain. Officers were regard as men of honor, men who would keep their word. One of these officers was Lieutenant Frederick Johnson, of whom we shall hear more later.

It was not long before the Teazer was replaced. Early in May, 1831, the Young Teazer, named after the vessel that and been lost, took to the high seas with the intention of giving the British quite as much trouble as had the old Teazer, and with no intention whatever of being captured and burned.

But best-laid plans and the very best of intentions often go astray. The Young Teaser’s first mistake was made when, early in June, she boarded a vessel off La Have, and allowed the vessel and crew to proceed. Of course, the vessel was in ballast, and was hardly worth taking, but her crew arrived at Halifax with full details about the new privateer, her tonnage, the number of guns she carried, and the size of her crew. A very few days later, an incident happened which shows the daring of these privateers. The Young Teazer captured two vessels right off Sambro Light, at the very entrance to Halifax Harbour, and escaped a possible capture by running into the harbor and raising British colors. This was certainly bravado, but it was discovered after the Young Teazer had gone, and a number of British warships sailed wrathfully out into the ocean in search of the Young Teazer.

A Liverpool privateer, called the Sir John Sherbrooke, sighted her, and gave chase: but the Young Teazer was too fast, and with the coming of a thick fog, the Young Teazer got away. Then two warships, the Caster and the Manly, caught sight of her, but the light Teazer was far too fast for the heavy lumbering warships.

A few days later, the frigate Orpheus met with Young Teazer, and being nearly as fast as the privateer, gave her a hot chase to Lunenburg Harbour. There was a light fitful breeze blowing, and the master of the Young Teazer, realizing that he was no match whatever for a heavily armed frigate, crowded on every inch of canvas, and manned the huge oars, or sweeps, with what the Young Teazer was equipped. Even with this help, however, the Young Teazer was unable to get away from this British frigate, who crowded close at her heels.

The Young Teazer darted amongst the maze of islands that dot Lunenburg Harbour, hoping that she would get into shallow water, where her light draught would enable her to sail where the deeper frigate would ground. But the Orpheus was not to be shaken so easily. Into the harbor she raced; close enough to give the master and crew of the Young Teazer a great deal of worry.

Then luck favored the Young Teazer. She doubled over past Sculpin Rock into Spindler’s Cove, and then she squared away and ran between Cross Island and East Point into Mahone Bay, toward Tancook. In the meantime, the Orpheus lost the breeze, and could follow no farther.

But, just as the officers and crew of the Young Teazer were beginning to breathe more easily, and to think that perhaps they had escaped once more, a huge three-decked British warship hove into sight. She proved to be La Hogue, a ship that carried seventy-four guns, a giant of the sea that would blow the Young Teazer out of the water with just one blast. Still, however, there was a chance for the Young Teazer. La Hogue was a great sea-castle, and needed a real breeze to move her- and the wind that the Teazer was light and fitful, so much so that her sweeps were manned constantly. She kept on toward Mahone Bay.

Now the luck that had favored the Young Teazer deserted her entirely. La Hogue caught a breeze that was evidently missing the privateer, and to the dismay of the American, swept around her to windward. But this was not the worst. Scarcely had the Young Teazer realized the peril that this placed her in before the towering sails of the Orpheus appeared.

The breeze that had favored La Hogue, had also enabled the frigate to get windward of the Young Teaser.

Then the wind died, and the Young Teazer, trapped in the landlocked waters of Mahone Bay, lay motionless, with the huge British ship a scant three miles away, also becalmed, but waiting there sinisterly for the Young Teazer to make a move.

One chance remained. With the warship becalmed, the Young Teazer might have worked her way to safety with her sweeps, and, indeed, much a move was begun. But La Hogue was not to be cheated out of her prey. Across the waters to the Teazer came the rattle of La Hogue’s anchor chains, and the sound of putting over boats. In the twilight, the Teazer’s crew saw five huge boats, each thronged with men, and each with a heavy gun in the bow, coming swiftly toward them. The sweeps had to be abandoned, for the boats could move much faster than could the Young Teazer, and besides, there was evidently a fight in the offing, and every man would be needed.

To the accompaniment of the distant, yet ever nearer, splash of oars, a council was hastily called on the Young Teazer. There were two courses open; they could surrender, or they could put up the best possible fight against tremendous odds. There were only thirty-six of the Young Teazer’s original crew of sixty-five on board; the rest had been sent on prizes. Each of La Hogue’s boats carried more men than the whole crew of the Young Teazer; there were more British tars on La Hogue and in reserve, there was the Orpheus, sinisterly awaiting the last breath of wind.

Even so, a gallant fight could have been made. The Teazer mounted five guns, which could have wrought great damage to the five shapes approaching through the summer twilight.

But, while the captain hesitated, the council was suddenly ended by Lieutenant Johnson, the paroled officer from the old Teazer, who had broken his oath, and was again bearing arms against Britain.

Somebody screamed that Johnson had run into the cabin with a live brand from the galley fire. The next moment, the Young Teazer was blown into fragments, by a terrible explosion, a great spout of flame shot skyward, and the career of the Young Teazer was over. Johnson, who did not care to swing at La Hogue’s yardarm as a renegade, had fired the Young Teazer’s magazine.

La Hogue’s boats went hastily back to their ship, and waited until morning. Then, when the British saw the hulk of the Young Teazer still afloat, they sent out boats to pick up any who might have survived the dreadful explosion. A few men, horribly wounded, were patched up and taken ashore to Lunenburg. One or two others who had been flung uninjured into the water, made their way ashore, and surrendered to Lunenburg authorities. In all, twenty-eight of the thirty-six on board the Young Teazer perished from Johnson’s rash act.

The wreck of the Young Teazer was towed ashore, and Lunenburg people gave Christian burial to the horribly mutilated remains that they could find. Some idea of the ghastly scene that the Young Teazer presented may be gathered from the fact that at least one man fainted at the sight of the hulk. There still remain some relics of the Young Teazer. One of the lanterns is in possession of a citizen of Lunenburg County, and a piece of the keel made into a cross, is in the Anglican Church at Chester.

But the greatest memory of the Young Teaser is to be found in the legends about Tancook, and many stories have been told about happenings in June, 1813, when the Young Teazer came to her end.

When you take a walk around Gorsebrook, have a look at the old stone on the wall, and you will probably say to yourself, I’ll bet the occupants of this house in those days, heard some exiting stories of the sea.