Nova Scotia (27 page)

   
With Prince Edward investing so heavily in Halifax building,
others followed suit and the city underwent a boom time. Edward and
Madame St. Laurent had moved into the summer house owned by the
Wentworths along B edford Basin, displacing that married couple to
the aforementioned abode in Preston, which was soon to be a centre
of the growing Black population in Nova Scotia.

   
With French prisoners of war being hauled into Halifax, it
quickly became obvious there was no place to put them and the
government didn’t want to have to pay for their keep anyway. Some
were set free and allowed to work for their own welfare. More
Blacks were also arriving, this time as prisoners of war – soldiers
from the colonial regiments of the Caribbean. The incarcerated POWs
found themselves either on Melville Island in the Northwest Arm, in
Dartmouth or simply on ships used as floating prisons in Bedford
Basin and down around the Dockyard. Needless to say, the conditions
were not comfortable and the English weren’t really prepared to
handle the thousands of prisoners who poured into
Halifax.

   
During this time, privateers once again had a chance to do
their good deeds for the Crown and rake in profits as they
plundered their victims on the high seas. In fact, privateers and
nobility alike were bringing considerable new wealth into Halifax.
Wentworth picked up on the spending spree, convincing the Assembly
to build a new Government House that is still in use today.
Nonetheless, for the have-nots, Halifax was still a pretty
desperate place. While the numbers of socialites, merchants and
prosperous government appointees had swelled, so too had the
population of the poor, few of whom had a chance to share in the
relative prosperity of the times before Edward was recalled to
England in 1800.

Wealth on the Waterfront

Privateers continued to ply their trade right up to the end
of the century and beyond. In Halifax, the latest booty would be
“legitimately” split between the owners and crew as well as the
co-operating judges and lawyers who would get an appointed chunk of
the prize money. Some of the men who sailed and pillaged the ships
at sea became wealthy. Still others died in battle or from
Caribbean diseases or ended up languishing in foreign prisons. One
of the more notable ships in this business was the
Charles Mary
Wentworth
, respectfully named
after the son of the governor. The ship was built by Simeon Perkins
in Liverpool and sailed by Captain Joseph Freeman with sixty-seven
men and four boys. In 1798 the
Wentworth
took over a
ship which was loaded with cotton and cocoa and flying the Spanish
flag. When it sailed into Halifax, it fetched a hefty sum of
£9,000.

   
The
Wentworth
was a real
money-maker for all involved and the stories about her were good
enough to lure many a landlubber into signing up for a privateer on
the high seas. One of those privateersmen, Enos Collins, made a
considerable amount of money in the business and invested it wisely
as a merchant on the Halifax waterfront. He died one of the
wealthiest men in North America. Some of his stores and warehouse
buildings of stone still stand today along a part of Halifax
Harbour rightfully developed as “Privateers’
Wharf.”

Joe Cracker of Herring
Cove

The
stories of sea wrecks, disasters, heroism and horror abound in Nova
Scotia from the fifteenth century right up to today. One that
leaves a lasting impression in my mind is the story of
La Tribune
, recounted by Archibald MacMechan in
At the Harbour
Mouth
. This French ship had
been captured by the British HMS
Unicorn
in 1797 and,
now manned by a crew of British sailors, it was making its way to
Halifax Harbour unescorted. The captain, a man by the name of
Barker, was not all that well qualified as a leader or navigator,
it would appear, for he chose the wrong man to steer them into the
harbour on November 23. The ship could be seen from York Redoubtn
cruising along just fine until she ran straight aground on the
rocky ledges known as Thrum Cap off McNab’s Island.
*

   
The captain was furious and blamed the man
steering the ship, while, ashore, the soldiers at York Redoubt sent
word for help. Barker had his men throw some cannons into the sea,
hoping that the higher tide would float
La Tribune
free
– but with no success. A barge was sent to help out, but Barker
seemed insulted that it was an insignificant craft manned by a
sailor of low rank. He refused to allow any of his men or his
passengers to board the barge. (One writer reports that on board
were women and children.) Meanwhile, the gale-force wind was
growing steadily. All were nervous about the weather as well as the
captain’s uncompromising attitude.

   
Night arrived, the storm grew worse and the pounding waves
and rocky shelf conspired to rip the rudder from the ship. Now
there would be no way to steer it even if they did float free. The
captain, it appears, had been stalling on abandoning the ship in
hopes that he could yet save his prize booty and his own
reputation, which would surely be tarnished beyond repair if he
lost this French vessel.

   
The ship was leaking badly when it finally lifted free of
Thrum Cap at nine o’clock that night and began to drift steadily
toward the granite rocks of Herring Cove in a rising southeast
gale. The men worked the pumps and some attempt was made to rig the
beleaguered sails to nose the ship in toward the calmer harbour
waters, for they were still only at the harbour mouth. By
nine-thirty they were just off the shores of Herring Cove when the
ship sank, settling onto a rocky bottom. Many drowned but at least
a hundred survivors – this included the men who had boarded from
the barge – clung to the rigging that was above the water line. By
midnight, the mainmast must have cracked and fallen and most of the
crew and passengers were swept to their deaths. By morning, not
many more than a dozen remained alive and the citizens of Herring
Cove stood on the shores and prepared to watych them die. None of
those ashore was willing to attempt a rescue in such dangerous
stormy conditions.

   
There proved, however, to be at least one hero in the crowd
along the shoreline. Joe Shortt was thirteen, a fisherman’s
apprentice without a family, who was said to be “weak in the head.”
While the whole community watched, Joe rowed his skiff out of the
cove and fought the raging waves to make it to those men still
clinging to the rigging. He succeeded in bringing one of them, John
Galvin, ashore but couldn’t manage to get his boat back out past
the breakers on a second attempt. Some of the Herring Cove men who
were watching, however, were inspired by Joe’s lone heroic act and
volunteered to put to sea in a jolly-boat. Eleven more were
rescued. But thiat made for only a scant twelve survivors from a
shipload of 250.

   
Joe Shortt, nicknamed Joe Cracker, became a
Halifax celebrity, praised by the visiting Duke of York. When asked
by the Duke what he wanted for his good deed, Joe replied that he
only wanted a pair of corduroy pants. Unfortunately, he was given
more than that – a position as a midshipmen on a flagship. He hated
the job, was homesick and eventually found his way back to a simple
life in the Herring Cove fishing village after having been
“punished” with the reward of enduring life in the British Navy,
the very same navy that had fostered the bull-headed, autocratic
attitudes that had led to the sinking of
La Tribune
.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Warships and Brazen
Rascals

Shortly after the turn of the
century, Halifax had a population of more than 8,500 but there were
only 1,000 established homes. Housing would often be a problem in
this seaport town whose population exploded during wartime with the
influx of the military. In 1801 fires had swept through Halifax,
destroying many homes and buildings. The first fire companies were
created as a result.

   
There was a short interlude of peace for
Halifax, but hostilities, which were growing again between the
British and Americans, would lead to all-out war. Even though the
United States had claimed neutrality during the Napoleonic Wars,
the British had searched American ships. And when press gangs
couldn’t find enough men on the streets of Halifax to force into
military duty, they boldly advanced ashore into American ports and
hauled off unwary Americans to serve aboard British ships. To make
things worse, the British warship
Leopard
attacked the
American
Chesapeake
in 1807 and seized four crew
members, two of whom were British citizens trying to avoid military
service. One of the two was flogged to death and the other was
hanged.

   
The naval intrusions helped push the Americans to the point
of going to war, but war sentiments were also escalated by the “War
Hawks” in the U.S. Congress, who wanted to expand American
territory. When the U.S. finally declared war on England on June
18, 1812, Halifax was once again to become the military base for
much of the activity on the British side. By now Halifax was a town
of some 10,000 citizens, most of whom were staunchly loyal to the
British government and confident that the British could not
possibly be defeated by the upstart Yankees.

   
Most of the actual fighting took place near the
American borders of Upper and Lower Canada. Here was territory that
the Americans hoped to capture for expansion purposes, land
considered to be more valuable than Nova Scotia. Although Nova
Scotia was located far from the main activity of the war, there
was, however, some glory for Halifax when the
Shannon
captured the
Chesapeake
and towed
her into the harbour to the cheers of onlookers.

   
Naturally, privateer raids continued on both
sides. War was always a good excuse to escalate raids and get away
with whatever theft you could. Privateers became more and more
brazen. The rascals aboard an American vessel called the
Young Teazer
at one point had nearly all the British fleet
from Halifax trying to track them down. The privateer would lay off
Sambro Light, beyond the mouth of Halifax Harbour, and attack
British merchant ships when they were vulnerable. Ultimately,
though, a British warship spotted the
Young Teazer
and
chased her into Lunenburg Harbour.

   
The privateer captain failed to find a safe
exodus to the high seas and the crew rowed with oars in an attempt
to hide the ship between two islands. As the British ships drew
closer, someone on board the
Teazer
accidentally
set off the gunpowder stores and the ship blew up in a tremendous
explosion. Only eight of the crew survived to tell the
tale.

   
Today people around the area say you can still sometimes see
a strange light moving over Mahone Bay at night, a ghost version of
the doomed vessel. The light moves along the water and then
disappears in a bright burst . Whatever the true cause of this
eerie phenomenon, it is called the “Teazer Light,” and is believed
by many to be some inexplicable re-enactment of the events leading
up to the explosion that took place that night.

A Question of Property

The British Navy was overworked and
relied on its own privateers to pester and pillage the Americans.
About a third of all the American ships captured during the War of
1812 were hauled in by privateers. The privateers wreaked such
havoc on New England during these times that, Nova Scotian
historian Phyllis Blakeley reports, “grass grew on many of the
wharves of New England.” Trade in many ports was at a standstill.
h

   
In 1814, British ships sailed from Halifax to Castine, Maine,
and took over the docks there, collecting customs money on anything
coming into that port. In 1818, these funds would be earmarked for
starting Dalhousie College and so this war would prove provident
for the emergence of higher learning in Nova
Scotia.

   
The war also brought about another wave of Black immigrants,
this time from the Chesapeake Bay area where British ships from
Halifax had set up a blockade. While there, the British offered
freedom to any Black slave willing to go north with them. This was
certainly not entirely an altruistic move, as the British hoped to
deprive the Americans of their workforce and at the same time
enlist the former slaves into the British military to fight. It was
an enticing proposition anyway and many slaves bought their freedom
this way.

   
After the war, 1,200 Black men, women and children were
brought to Nova Scotia and settled in Halifax, Dartmouth and
Preston, but put in a position where they, like the Maroons before
them, were dependent upon the state for survival. Most ended up in
poverty. After the Treaty of Ghent in 1814, Americans were
demanding the return of their property, including Black slaves who
had escaped to some semblance of freedom in Canada. The British
nobly refused to recognize the new Nova Scotians as “property” and
thus the Blacks stayed on.