When my father came within the bay formed by Long Point, he watched the coast for a favourable impression, and after a scrutiny of many miles, the boat was run into a small creek, the high banks sloping gradually on each side.

Directions were given to the men to erect the tent for my mother.

My father had not been long on shore before he decided that that should be his home. In wandering about, he came to an eminence which would, when the trees were felled, command a view of the harbour. He gazed around him a few moments and said, "Here I will be buried," and there after fourteen years of toil, he sleeps in peace.

The men my father hired in New York all wished to settle in Canada, and were glad to avail themselves of an opportunity of coming free of expense, and promised to remain with him until he had a log-house built, and had himself comfortable.  He had paid them a great portion of their wages in advance, to enable them to get necessaries in New York.

Immediately on his arrival at Niagara they left him, with one exception, and went in search of localities for themselves, very little regard being paid at that time to engagements, and there being no means to enforce them; consequently, he had to hire fresh hands at Niagara, who were men, like the former, on the look-out for land.

After one day’s rest at Ryerse Creek [sic, Young's Creek], they re-embarked and went fourteen miles further up the bay, to the house of a German settler who had been there two years, and had a garden well stocked with vegetables.

The appearance of the boat was hailed with delight by those solitary beings, and my mother and child were soon made welcome, and the best that a miserable log-house, or rather hut, could afford was at her service.

This kind, good family consisted of father, mother, one son and one daughter.  Mr. Proyer [sic, actually Troyer, used hereafter], the father, was a fine-looking old man with a flowing beard, and was known for many years throughout the Long Point settlement as "Doctor Troyer."

He possessed a thorough knowledge of witches, their ways and doings, and the art of expelling them, and also the use of the divining-rod, with which he could not only find water, but could also tell how far below the surface of the earth precious metals were concealed, but was never fortunate enough to discover any in the neighborhood of Long Point.

Here my father got his goods under shelter and left my mother, and returned to Ryerse Creek, [sic, Young's Creek] intending to build a log-house as soon as possible.

Half a dozen active men will build a very comfortable primitive log-house in ten or twelve days; that is, cut and lay up the logs, and chink them, put on a bark roof, cut holes for the windows and door, and build a chimney of mud and sticks. Sawing boards by hand for floors and doors, making sash and shingles, is an after and longer process.

But soon after my father returned he fell ill with Lake fever; his men erected a shanty, open in front like an Indian camp, placed my father in it and left him with his son, a lad of fifteen years of age, the son of a former wife, as his only attendant.

When my father began to recover, my half-brother was taken ill, and there they remained almost helpless, alone for three weeks.

My mother hearing nothing of or from, them, became almost frantic, as some of the party were to have returned in a few days.  She prevailed upon Mike Troyer, the son, to launch his bark canoe, and to take her and my brother, then a year and a half old, in search of my father.

On approaching Ryerse Creek, after a many days’ paddle along the coast, they saw a blue smoke curling above the trees, and very soon my mother stood in front of the shanty, where my father sat with a stick, turning an immense turkey, which hung, suspended by a string before a bright fire.

The day previous, a large flock of wild turkeys had come very near his camp, and commenced fighting. Without moving from his shanty, he killed six at one shot. He afterwards, at single shots, killed eight more, and the united strength of him and my brother was scarcely sufficient to bring them into camp.

My mother used to look back upon that evening as one of the happiest of her life.  She had found her loved ones, after torturing her mind with all sorts of horrors — Indians, wild beasts, snakes, illness, and death had all been imagined.

The next day, Mike Troyer’s canoe was laden with wild turkeys, and he returned alone, as my mother refused to separate herself again from my father.

A few days after, a party of pedestrians arrived, on the look-out for land, and they at once set to work and put up the wished-for log-house or houses, for there were two attached, which gave them a parlour, two bedrooms, a kitchen and a garret.

On removing from the shanty to this house, my mother felt as if in a palace.  They bought a cow from Mr. Troyer and collected their goods, and when cold weather set in they were comfortable.

Continued....>

Copyright 1994-2014 John Cardiff and Port Ryerse Environmental and Historical Society

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