The Hickman courier., 1877-08-10

y upon the map or chart OF
gu see Long Point island, on
Canada side, near and between Port
Rowan and Port Dover, the ports above
and below the island. 1t is about seven
ty-fve miles from Buffalo, running
parallel with the main shore of Canada,
its western point terminating upon Port
Rowan bay, where is found what is called
1" the cut" named so as it is formed of
quicksands-the violent gales and great
waves, with the rapid current formed bv
them, cutting through the main shore
into Port Rowan bay, making for awhile
a passage that vessels NAV sail through.
and forming also an island of Long Point,
when otherwise it is only a peninsula, the
entrance being almost or quite choked
up with the drifting quicksand. The
whole island is made from the upheaving
sands OF the lake. 1t is covered here and
there with dwarf sparse trees and trail
, ing shrubbery; the land made up of
broken hilloeks, with intervening ponds.
where the wild fowl in great numbers
resort in their season and the muskrat
and occasionally otter are found.
At the time of which 1 write, 1854.
Long Point island was owned as wild
land by the British or Canadian govern
ment. Upon its eastern end, stretched
out to a long point of sand, stands
lighthouse, built by the Canadian
government, to guide the mariner by its
clear, strong light up and down the lake.
and it is a point of departure to assure
seamen Of their true position. The light
house and point of land on which it
stood were in a direct line several miles
from the main shore of Canada, and its
keepers and families being the only
inhabitants proper upon the island. To-
ward the upper end, near the cut,
some eight or nine miles from the light
house the whole island, probably, is about
twelve miles long,. there were squatted
and lived, temporarily, Johnny Becker,
with his wife Abigail and some half-a-
dozen children. Johnny was trapper;
ne led nomadic life, trapping muskrats,
beaver, and other game, shooting ducks
and fishing, eking out a poor existence
from these precarious modes of life.
He had built a sort of shanty home from
the slabs and driftwood that had been
accumulated on the beach.
On cold, stormy November night in
1854, Johnny Becker was away on the
main land at Port Rowan to trade his
skins for supplies, and to return when he
could. Housed in this shanty was Abb
gail, his wife, the heroine of our stery.
Let us leave her there with her children
while we turn to another scene and fact
IN our story. The Canadian three-mast-
ed schooner Conductor, of Amherstburg.
Canada; owned by John Mcleod, a Scotch
gentleman and a member of the Canadian
parliament; her commander, Capt. Rob
ert Hackett, now of Detroit, and manned
by a crew of seven men in all. This
vessel was in the vicinity of Long Point
island and near Abigail Becker's rude
home. 1t was blowing terrible gale of
wind, the weather was bitter cold, the
tops OF the waves freezing in the air as
they broke, filling it with frozen spray,
50 that nothing could be seen twenty feet
from the vessel.
The COnductor'was scudding before
the wind under close-reefed sails; thev
judged they were a safe and proper dis
tance from the land and running parallel
WI it, on toward their port of destina-
ton, in which they were deceived. They
were nearer the Canada shore than they
supposed, and, at midnight, struck the
outer bar of Long Point, but went over it,
and sunk between the two bars, a little
above the place where Abigail Becker
and her children were sheltered on that
fearful night. The vessels hull was
entirely submerged the crew took to the
rigging of the three masts, their only
= 1t was about mihnight of fear
pgy . ber night, the sky in
darkness all around them, the
storm of waters lashing and roaring with
fury, calling for their apparent victims
to engulf them; no possible succor near;
ciinging to their frail supports in the rig
ging just above the certain death that
seemed to await them. Who could
imagine their terrible forebodings of an
imminent, horrid death-no relief appa-
rent, no help to look up to but the Great
Father who cares for all? How they
prayed to him that awful night to save
their precious lives. | had it from their
own lips at the time, more than twenty
years ago, and tits as fresh to me now as
then Here they clung, waiting for
daylight which would never seem to
come But come it did at last, that
awful November morning, with no abate-
ment TO the terrible, raging storm. 1t
brought no comfort with it, no greater
hopes of succor? All they could
see was the wild, icy waves
around them, making it really more ter
rible than when hidden by the pail of
night. Abigail rose after daylight and
looked out. She took her pail as was
her custom, and went down to a point to
get some water to fill the tea-kettle. At
her feet, on the beach, she saw the Con-
ductor's yawl-boat, wrecked and breaking
to pieces. She looked around toward
the lake, peering through the gloom and
storm, and, walking up the beach, finally
discovered the masts and the people
clinging to them. She went up opposite
on the beach and saw their terribly help
less condition. She waved to them and
they saw her. She returned TO her shan
ty, and, leaving the children in
charge of her oldest girl of ten or twelve
years ofage, took her iron pot, some tea
and matches, went up again opposite the