By-Town - A True History of Settlement and Alien Invasion

April 1827 - The Rideau River

Daniel O'Connor

After I decided to make my way up the St. Lawrence and back to Ireland, a man in Kingston named McLean convinced me to go up the Rideau River and give the new settlement, where they decided to build a canal, a chance. This after trying my luck at commerce, a failed attempt to fight Spanish domination in South America, and a rescue of my brother-in-law in the malaria filled swamp of Savannah, and generally disturbing fortunes and failure wherever I went. Out of curiousness and reluctance to return home so soon, my wife, Mary, and new born daughter, boarded a steamer for a day's journey to Prescott. We hired a span of horses and wagon and arrived in Clothier's Mill the next day. A few days later we hired a small boat to take us as far as possible down the Rideau River. The craft was barely big enough for Mary and I and our small possessions, but the two lads made room and ably manoeuvred us through the swift waters. At nightfall we arrived at the head of Long Island where we were left in a shanty already occupied by an old man (whose name I never learned or can not recall) who, seeing the baby and the haggard look of Mary, put up no argument of the need to share the small space. In the morning we shared a crib of timber and passed over, in harrowing manner and after many hard knocks, the Long Island Rapids. He took leave of us in solemn silence on the eastern shore.

The next morning, thanks to no sense and impatience, we attempted the rough and dangerous Black Rapids. It is difficult to describe to you the full terror, my reader, we experienced that day. The raft struck a rock just as the water plunged down throwing us forward and into the deep cold water. I grabbed on to Mary as she was sinking under the weight of her heavy clothes and was able to pull us both to the river's shore. We laid for sometime on the stones and long grass. I finally looked at Mary who had yet to speak any words. Our child was gone causing us much anguish. Around us were small biting flies unlike what we had experienced before. Numerous unmoving black birds were perched on a dead tree across the river, I took as a further ominous sign. Our small possessions lost except for one valise. The sky was turning a dark blue. My map drawn for me by McLean just a week ago in Kingston suggested we were half way to Wright's Town and the military garrison. I was careful not to convey my uncertainty to Mary nor to dwell on my own thoughts of failure.

We struggled up the embankment where we saw a thin column of smoke further downstream. I hoped we had chanced upon a surveyor or sapper camp. The flies continued to crowd our heads as we walked, heightening our misery. Through long grass we reached the source of smoke, a broken shack, I called out. A tall man in a thick white shirt, breeches and stovepipe hat, tending a fire, stood up to face us, his grey dog also now alert, and I could soon see four or maybe five others not far and standing apart, unmoving amidst the trees. There were canvas tents around, various equipment, shovels, picks and the like, and two work horses tied to a fallen tree.

"And who is this, then?" said the man, whom I now understood to be truly massive, in what I recognized as the accent of my country.

"I am Daniel O'Conner, native of county Clonmel, Tipperary, here on way to the military settlement. Can you help us..."

"Well, well, a fellow Irishman and his lovely companion from beautiful county Clonmel. Isn't we happy and privliged?", he cut in as the others started forward slowly from the trees. "...in these untamed, wild, parts?"

"Sir, we would be most grateful if you could offer us a seat at your fire. We have had unfortunate luck on the river...", I began.

"...Daniel O'Connor from county Clonmel we would be most pleased. I feel full and blessed. Don't you lads?" And his gang echoed "Aye" very quickly to his question, stepping in unison forward, I believe controlled. I have heard of such black technology but never witnessed. "You see, we have experience with travellers from your county, and county xxx and every county in between. And that experience has generally not been a good one for wandering labourers like us. But we are all forgiving and carry no grudges and would be most pleased to offer warmth and food to our country folk."