MARVELOUS
LADY: An Island Journal
David
P. Stephens
Cape Breton
Island
So, following our "cesspool"
encounter, Anna and I retreated back to Sydney where we relayed
our experience to Cathy. She gave us that familiar look like we
were crazy to continue this relentless endeavour. Yet, undaunted,
Anna and I resumed our search the next morning, armed with the
classified section of the Cape Breton Post, the Maritime Merchant,
and plenty of loose change for pay phones. It was a beautiful
day for June, the sun rose early and slowly stretched across the
landscape, warming the good earth and giving a sense of new meaning
to our mission. We were sure that this day would yield positive
results. We started out early, lazily winding our way along the
rugged coast line through South Bar, on to New Victoria, New Waterford,
Lingan Bay, and on through Dominion to Glace Bay. All the while
our eyes quickly scanned the landscape in search of that distinct
Cape Island style hull. We talked to fishermen and locals along
our picturesque route and followed up on a couple of leads to
no avail.
Whenever we'd pose
the question,"do you know of any Cape Islander's for sale
around here?", the response was hauntingly familiar. The
strong shoulders of each self-assured character immediately slumped,
their eyes cast downward, and mouths curled at the corners as
if the question caused them grief, sorrow, or pain. It was like
being caught in some strange movie where each person we talked
to was a mirror of the previous. They each shook their heads from
side to side, while rubbing a weathered hand over their whiskered
faces, creating a sound like sandpaper on a boat hull . Then,
cupping their chin, squeezing their faces and flaring their nostrils,
they'd inhale deeply, sigh, and respond, while exhaling, "No
bye, no, no, nothin' left around here".
We dropped in to the
local Tim Horton's in Glace Bay for a coffee, and perched ourselves
at a window seat, circling the various classified ads which sounded
like good prospects. "Here's one David", said Anna.
"Tell me what you think of this". She read the ad with
her ever exuberant voice, full of cheerful optimism. "Must
sell, 30 foot Cape Islander, great condition, fiberglass over
wood, six cylinder Chevy, marine manifold, trailer, many new parts,
requires minor repairs". "That might be all right!",
she said with a broad and energetic smile. We finished our coffee
and strolled across the street to the Needs convenience store
to use the pay phone. I dialed the number, it rang several times,
with no answer. "Probably still in bed", said Anna.
"Let's go back to the Jeep and wait a few more minutes before
phoning again". So, we sat in the Jeep, talking of boats,
and summer, and paintings, and houses, and Houston, and, of Anna's
1955 Chevy truck affectionately known as "Old Nelly",
which was still in Houston. We were devising a plan of action
which would allow us to bring "Old Nelly", an illegal
alien, across the border to Cape Breton. (As of this date, the
old girl is still in Texas, although Anna and I have tentative
plans to spirit her out of the country in June - but, that's another
story!).
I decided to try the
phone number again and met with success after about ten rings.
The young lady who answered was quite groggy, probably just woke
up to answer the phone. I inquired about the Cape Islander and
she replied in a sleepy voice, "He's not up yet, I'll wake
him. The boat is in his mother's yard. I'll wake him up and tell
him to meet you there". She gave us the address and Anna
and I immediately set off on the next leg of our wild goose chase.
We located the weary old boat sitting quite precariously on a
homemade trailer in a side yard. We tried ringing the doorbell
of the home and knocked on the door to no avail. It appeared that
there was no one home, or, they too were in bed. We took a quick
glance at the boat. The engine was fully exposed, and had obviously
been tinkered with as the air cleaner was laying up against the
block. I noticed that the vessel had an automotive transmission,
in sad shape, saturated with transmission fluid. The electrical
system was in complete disarray, with switches and fuses held
together with duct tape. I noticed the fuel tank sitting in the
stern and pointed it out to Anna. "Look at this mess!",
I said. "That's an aluminum draft keg he's using for a gas
tank!" Anna laughed out loud and said, "let's get the
hell out of here before the guy arrives and we have to waste our
time talking to him". So, once more, we jumped in the Jeep
and drove off, empty handed.
We thought it best
to head back home to recharge our batteries. On the way, I said
to Anna, "Let's take a run out to Louisbourg and see what
might be laying around out there. We're sure to discover a lead
on something". Anna, being ever adventurous, quickly replied,"Good
idea". And with that nod of approval, I pointed the Jeep
in the direction of Louisbourg. Now, I feel it necessary to give
a bit of background information on Louisbourg and my own connections
with the town and surrounding area.
(Photo
at right: Fortress of Louisbourg National Historic Park. Courtesy
of Warren Gordon, MPA. Steel Town Publishing, Sydney, N.S.)
Louisbourg is a small
historic fishing town on the Atlantic coast. Although the fishery
has been in decline, tourism has increased over the years, mostly
due to the partial restoration of the 18th century French fortress
town, named in honour of King Louis XIV. Louisbourg was settled
by the French but the area was also home to Basque and Portuguese
fishermen, as well as the native Miq-maw who fished and hunted
here.
Part of the colourful
and intriguing maritime history of Louisbourg includes the numerous
tales of ship wrecks in Kelpy Cove, Kennington Cove and surrounding
area. One such tale is that of the French pay ship Le Chameau
(Dromedary), and of how she was lost in a sudden storm on August
26/1725. She was violently flung up onto the jagged rocks off
Port Nova Island (since known as Chameau Rock), twelve miles from
the fortress. All souls perished. Villagers in nearby Little Lorraine
(where Anna and I were to discover the Marvelous Lady some 275
years later), recovered flotsam which identified the vessel as
belonging to the Crown.
Numerous attempts were
made to salvage the wreck and her valuable cargo. While some goods
were recovered, including masts and rigging, barrels and textiles,
the bulk of her treasure was swallowed up by the sea, tides and
shifting sands. A diver named Tempete (Storm) was one of a small
crew hired in 1726 to attempt salvage, to no avail. The precious
cargo of Le Chameau lay at the ocean floor for over 200 years
until Alex Storm, Dave MacEachern and Harvey MacLeod made a successful
dive in 1965. They had discovered Le Chameau lying in 75 feet
of ocean. They also found a sizable portion of the payload of
82,000 livre tourneau in silver and gold coins, as well as numerous
other artifacts, including the Cross of the Order of St. Louis.
It is interesting that
Le Chameau went down in a storm in 1725, that the first person
to attempt salvage in 1726 was named Tempete, or "Storm",
and that she was "raised" by Alex Storm in 1965, more
than two centuries later.
My parents, both numismatists,
were retained as agents by Alex Storm and his partners. Together,
they went through the tedious process of documenting, researching,
and pricing the coins and jewellery. I can recall as a child,
viewing and handling these rare artifacts, my mind racing with
thoughts of privateers, buried treasure, and adventure on the
high seas.
My parents also acted
as agents for Storm and associates when they made yet another
discovery, the cargo of the Feversham, another French pay ship
lost to the unpredictable Cape Breton coastline. I remember my
parents making the trek to New York in 1971 where they had arranged
to have the Chameau treasure sold at auction at the Madison Ave.
Parke-Bernet Gallery. My mother actually wore some of the jewellery
during the flight to New York, while they carried the remainder
of the treasure as luggage.
That period in my life
has affected me deeply. It has instilled in me a thirst for adventure,
a need to seek out and discover what is hidden, a longing and
a passion to explore the many corners of this wonderous world
we share.
Click here for the
next Marvelous
Lady installment,
as Anna and I tell the tale of Jimmy with the hole in his pants!