As
beautiful as anything man has made, built for strength and speed, yet strangely
tender, were ships of sail.
She was British
built, Registry Number 74038, Port of Sydney; her designer, owner and skipper
was Captain Peter deVaux, Acadian, Master Mariner. The River Queen was
launched in the spring of 1876, fitted and ready for registration on the
twenty-third of May. She was built in Bras d'Or at the family homestead, and
slid from her ways into the Little Passage, about one hundred feet from the
house which stands to this day. The registration papers indicate that Edmund
Andrews was the builder, though his role was more likely that of overseer for
insurance purposes, for family tradition has it that Peter and his sons built
the schooner. Her papers show she was fifty-four feet long, had a beam of
eighteen feet, depth of hold six feet seven inches, and her tonnage 32:26.
According to a 1962
letter from Captain Peter's son Arthur I she was painted a "bottle green"
above the water line, red-copper color below. Another source reported that she
was built of lumber from the adjacent land of Captain Richard Richard (b.
François-Regis Richard), Peter's father- in-Iaw. Son Arthur said the River
Queen had a small cabin aft, with a stove to provide some comfort from the
chill Atlantic winds of spring and fall. Her skipper had a canon concerning the
fuel for this cast iron heat generator; though it was plentiful in the area, no
coal. He stoked it with equally plentiful hardwood, and boasted the whitest
sails in the fleet!
Peter's role as a
mariner was an evolution of circumstance. The degree to which he had become
engaged in the fisheries would have been foreign to his ancestors at
Beaubassin. Their means of livelihood centered around tillage rather than
tillers, animal husbandry rather than codfishing. The bounty of the Fundy area
lay behind the dyked marshes, the bounty of Cape Breton in the Atlantic. That
is not to say the Fundy Acadians were not engaged in the fisheries, but as A.
H. Clark says in his Acadia, "they were not of them to any
great degree." The move of the family to Cape Breton late in the 18th
century precluded significant agrarian pursuits, particularly with respect to
the land in the Isle Madame area to which they had come; it provided no more
than subsistence farming. The Arichat area did provide a training ground for
the Atlantic fisheries and Peter, his father, siblings and cousins learned
their lessons well, for after the move to the Bras d'Or area they owned some
dozen schooners, sailed the Lakes and the Atlantic for over forty years, and
never lost a man to the sea.
The small schooners
of Cape Breton, of which the Queen was one, were engaged in a variety of
ways which included off-shore fishing, lobstering, freighting, and
transportation of livestock. Peter was involved in all of these and according
to his son Arthur he made at least one seal hunting voyage. He also remembers
standing on the deck of the schooner with his father and Alexander Graham Bell
while the two men discussed a freighting contract. Bell's summer home was at
Baddeck on the Bras d'Or Lakes which, before the coming of the railroads, were
the highways for those communities that dotted its shores.
The larger schooners
were one hundred feet or more in length, but they were relatively few in number
compared to those between say forty and sixty feet, and the role played by the
smaller vessels in the local economy was probably much greater. The River
Queen made trips to Halifax through the St. Peter's Canal, which opened in
1869. She also visited ports in Prince Edward Island, at Arichat, other
settlements along the southeast coast of mainland Nova Scotia and as well as
the French islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon off the southeast coast of
Newfoundland. A schooner of its size required a crew of but four or five,
perhaps fewer when engaged in freighting on moderate seas, and Peter probably
relied primarily on sons and nephews to man the Queen and his other
schooners.
Peter was no stranger
to the harbour at Louisbourg, and on one occasion as her anchor was being
raised for departure it caught on an old sea chest and brought it to the
water's surface. Before it could be grasped it fell back to the sea. Great
excitement ensued, for it was known that much booty, some of it gold, rested on
the bottom of those waters, relics of the 18th century French presence there.
One of the French vessels which sank in 1725 with all hands was Le Chameau and
she was carrying considerable treasure for the payment of troops at Fort
Louisbourg. The Queen's crew tried valiantly to re-capture the chest to
no avail. Captain Peter marked the place with a buoy and returned three weeks
later with a diver, but the buoy was gone. The story was told over and over
again and a trip to this place always included efforts to again locate the
object, with no further luck. In 1927 sons and nephews of Captain Peter made
another try, spending many weeks searching for the wreck, repeating the effort
the following summer, dragging and diving in the area. They gave up the search
and never returned. In 1966 three young men, strangers to the original
searchers, hit upon the wreck a short distance from where the earlier treasure
hunters had worked. They were successful and recovered $700,000 in gold and
silver coins. The Province of Nova Scotia got ten per cent, the deVaux family
got not a sou.
A great number of
these small vessels engaged in a bit of smuggling from time to time, for
whiskey could be bought at St. Pierre for a third of the cost in Cape Breton.
Peter was not beyond indulging in the sport. One pleasant spring day his
sister Sabine was entertaining two gentlemen who complimented her on the
quality of the whiskey she served. She proudly told them that her brother had
brought it from the French Islands and they, perhaps no less proudly, announced
that they were revenue agents. Much to her dismay, they set out to where the Queen
lay at anchor to confiscate the contraband. The good captain got word of
the unintentional betrayal and moved to protect his illicit cargo. He
discovered that the government agents had hired one Patrick O'Toole to guard
the spirits aboard until such time as they could procure the transportation to
remove the evidence needed for prosecution. Our grandfather engaged the
Irishman in conversation suggesting he "have a nip before the whiskey was
gone." As was the habit of this son of Erin, one drink led to another
until O'Toole's value as a sentry was sharply reduced. The captain and his crew
quickly moved the smuggled booty deep into the woods, much to the dismay of the
guileful agents.
Between 1853 and
1896 Captain Peter was the owner or part owner of four other schooners and for
a period of five of those years was the part owner of one, the sole owner of
two others. His first involvement, near the time of his marriage in 1854, was
when he, his father Pierre, and his brother-in-law, Andre Dugas launched the
40' John William at Bras d'Or . Dugas held 22 of the 64 shares, Peter
and his father 21 each; the vessel was named for the young sons of Andre and
Pierre, respectively. The ownership of these ships was always divided into 64
shares, making possible a number of combinations of title, conveniently
permitting one, the captain, to have a majority. In 1860 Peter and his
father-in-Iaw Captain Richard launched the 45' Flying Robin, so named
tradition tells us because at the time of its launch a robin nesting in the bow
took flight. Richard owned 51 shares, Peter 13. In 1872 the 45’ River Bride was
slipped into the Little Passage, Peter owning all 64 shares; now Captain,
Master Mariner. Upon the occasion of his son William Peter's marriage, he was
given 32 shares of the Bride. Chronologically, the next schooner was the
River Queen, described above. The last vessel owned by Captain Peter was
the James Henry built in 1876 and purchased by him in 1892, three months
after the loss of his beloved Queen.
The River Queen was
indeed his pride, and apparently the pride of his family as well, for a poem
was written about her a few years after her demise. I first saw it, folded and
faded, in the top drawer of my father's bureau along with a few other treasures
of his past. What the poem lacks in literary merit it has in length, a fact I
no longer resent since it provides us with a bit more of both history and
legend, thus fact and fancy. The inaccuracies can be attributed to the youth
and enthusiasm of the young authors, son Abraham and one James Plant. The
spirit of competition was high among these mariners and many of the vessels
mentioned were owned by brothers, cousins, and other relatives. Two, other than
the subject of the piece, belonged in whole or part to Peter himself .
On the 2nd of
December, 1891, Captain Peter, his son William, nephew Michael and one Frank
Smart sailed from Bras d'Or bound for Prince Edward Island to pick up 100 sheep
at five dollars a head for a local farmer. They had travelled about forty miles
toward the northern tip of Cape Breton when winds approaching gale force hit
them from the southeast. The River Queen's skipper decided to put in to
the shelter afforded by Aspy Bay, anchoring in the small cove at White Point.
Some damage had been done to the rigging, but it could be easily repaired and
the journey continued after the wind calmed. With a southeast wind they could
ride out the storm. Suddenly and without warning the wind, now at gale force,
swung around to the northwest and the little schooner was caught on a lee
shore, sails furled and no time to gain the relatively greater safety of the open
ocean. Her anchors dragged or were lost and she was driven up on the beach at
White Point. As twilight approached it became apparent that the ship was lost
and the crew scrambled ashore. In the gathering darkness they watched as the
angry surf pounded Captain Peter's cherished schooner to pieces. The five
hundred dollars stored under the bunk disappeared in the swirling flotsam which
had been the splendid River Queen. She was the largest of some twenty
ships lost that night near Cape North.
Even
as night closed in, the men began their fifty-mile walk back to Bras d’Or. As
the sun rose the next morning the weary, hungry, and thirsty crew stopped at
the farm of a Scottish widow for water. As Captain Peter stood at the kitchen
pump quenching his thirst he observed a cow in the yard. The people were
obviously poor and the captain had no money, but he asked if she might spare
some milk. The woman turned to her daughter and said in Gaelic “Give them the
milk the mouse drowned in.” Our grandfather, who spoke both French and English,
also had a more than passing acquaintance with the Scottish tongue; he led his
men down the road to the south.
From a 1963
interview with nephew Michael age 93, an eye-witness account: "The storm
came up suddenly, it surprised us and tore the ship to pieces. On the coast was
a sandy beach and we were swept onto it. If the coast had been rocky we would
have been lost. Yes, she left her bones on Cape North." According to this
man, who sailed many a day with our grandfather, his captain and uncle was a
good sailor and a jolly skipper, "a good man to be with on the sea."
Captain Peter must have smiled that day.
Over one-hundred
Decembers have visited that lonely beach at White Point and the flash of the
snow white canvas of the River Queen was not again to be seen on the
sparkling waters of the Bras d’Or Lakes, but her history and legend live on.
Eight years later her jaunty and able captain followed her in death and he lies
in a grave on the very shores of the very lakes they both knew so well and
sailed so proudly. As I write these lines I see a long ago image of my
grandmother in her fine smelling kitchen, her hand mixing a cake in an old tan
and brown bowl and listen, with thirsty ear, for her lilting voice singing:
"She is painted
like a fiddle And varnished like the bow; The man that owns her signs his name,
It’s Captain P. Devoe.”
(facsimile of
original printing)
[The fast-sailing schooner”River Queen” owned by Captain Peter Devoe,of Little Bras d’Or. Cape Breton, Canada, built in 1876 under construction of his son, Wm. P. Devoe, made many pleasant and profitable voyages, afterwards was wrecked September 8, 1891, on Cape Morth, entrance to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. After having been disabled, her sails torn to shreds, losing both anchors and cables and dashed to pieces by the angry waves, the crew was saved to the delight of her captain, who sailed the Atlantic Ocean over forty years.]
Come all ye
joyful fishermen, Her captain is a
joyful chap;
Come listen to my song,
He is generally found aboard.
And if you keep perfectly still A nice a little captain too
I won’t detain you long.
As this world can afford.
My song concerns a schooner, boys, His heart is bold
and generous,
That lately has been made;
Like would in time of war;
She was built along the Little Bras d’Or, He is ahead of all our
captains too
All for the codfish trade.
Along the Atlantic shore.
Her dimensions I’ll relate
Oh, boys, beware of River Queen,
Before I say much more -
For she is there with the “Cutes”;
She is the fastest sailor that has been
built She will very
seldom sail with you,
Along the Atlantic shore -
Except wind and weather suits.
She is ninety-eight feet in the keel, And then you
might as well stay there;
About twenty-five feet beam;
I’ll just tell you what for –
Those gilded letters on her stern She will
only make you curse and swear
Pronounces “River
Queen.” To sail ‘long side of
her.
Her sails are cotton canvas For
I know she will beat the “Ocean Belle,”
Made from the best of stock; The
“Moll Peg,” too, you will find,
Her rigging is manila,
When her captain stands by the wheel
All rove through patent blocks. With a
reefing breeze of wind.
She is a fore and after too,
For she will beat the “Angel Dugas”
A handsome modeled boat;
And wallop the “Sambo,”
Her sails are white as driven snow Knock splinters
out of “Sailors’ Bride;”
A cotton canvas suit.
Crack on the “Charlie Joe.”
She is painted like
the fiddle There is the “Flying Robin” too,
And varnished like the bow: The “Ocean Wave” likewise
The man who
owns her signs his name
“James Henry, “Annie S. Christie”
Its Captain P. Devoe.
And the darling “River Bride.”
The very first time she went out this
port I have something more to tell,
They say she could not sail, To
make my song extend;
But now he understands her trim; There is the
“Eddy,” the “Annie Bell,”
He will spout her like a whale.
“Greyhound” at the tail end,
He sailed her up to Halifax,
Once was owned by Captain Snapp
Oh, here late in the fall,
And McRitchie in St. Anns,
And every vessel that he met - But now
she is owned by Capt. Bonner
Why did he beat them all?
And three or four more hands.
And when he was ready to return But,
captains, don’t be offended now,
He hauled in her main sheet. And
try and arrange new plans
He showed them all the Yankee dodge - And stick those
crafts you got, ashore,
Both French and English fleet. And
work upon your Farms.
NOTE: The computer could not faithfully
scan and reproduce a copy of the original printing of the poem which is in my
possession. An exact copy does appear in my Family History. I have here
transcribed it in exact detail, including the format, grammar, punctuation,
spellings, misspellings, and type-setter errors, as in the original. See text
below the map which follows. I provided a copy of the poem as well as stories
on the family to the late Captain John Parker, author of Cape Breton Ships
and Men who used my material in that book. He took the liberty of correcting
some of the spelling errors, I thought to leave it as written. JBD
For some of the “Queen’s” journeys, see map below.
SYDNEY 1876
I am the
great-grandson of Peter ( Charles, Matthew, Peter, Pierre, etc.) and as
recently as 1998 I visited White Point, driving down a very steep road to the
beach, imagining the challenge the steep and road less incline must have
presented to the tired and wet crew on that December night in 1891; Peter
himself was 59 years of age. There is today a modest settlement ashore. The
stories of the smuggling episode and the incident with the Scottish widow were
told to me in 1962 by an elderly relative at Little Bras d'Or, one Alec
Jessome. The poem, shown above, includes the exaggerated size of the River
Queen and incorrectly identifies the date of her destruction. Line 3 of
stanza 3 might better read "sailer" and perhaps line 3 of stanza 16,
in the interests of propriety, should read "Sailor's Bride." JBD
.