Another Place Another Time

It was a glorious day. The calm sea air, filled with the briny, clammy, taste and smell of the ocean lent a sense of euphoria to the voyage. The 300-ton clipper called the Bello was propelled by the light breeze teasing her sails. The ship had embarked a fortnight ago from Portsmouth, England. Standing at at the stern of the ship was James Turner. He was sixteen year’s old, adventurous by nature and not prone to dwelling on bygones. The ships wake, disappearing towards the land he left, held him mesmerized, tugging from his memory the events that led him to this point. He was oblivious to the cries of swooping gulls and the lazy flap, flap sound of the sails above him.

James was born in Canterbury, Kent, England in 1834. He was the youngest of the nine children that John and Mary had produced. He bore the brunt of his siblings cajoling. “James take out the night-soil or find some coal for the stove” they instructed.

John, his father, did his utmost to care for the family. He was up at four every morning to open the bakery where he worked. The hours were long and he seldom got home before seven. Bread and pastries were always on the table albeit a day or two old. He passed away when James was seven. James was close to his father and he now felt a deep sorrow with this memory. His mother Mary now had to take care of her remaining children. Some had taken off on their own but it was still a huge strain for her. James was fourteen when Mary passed away.

He had to earn a living from that time. His aunts and uncles were kind but they were not wealthy. He stayed with his uncle William Turner and his family. He grew up very quickly.

One of his first memories was watching the Queen and Prince Albert passing through Canterbury on their tour of the country to celebrate her coronation. The main street was lined with waving flags held high by townsfolk jostling to get closer to the Royal couple. He was sitting on his fathers shoulders. He was four years old.

The Cathedral was Canterbury’s persona. He had never been inside but imagined from what his mother had told him.

“It’s like another world in there my boy, so many different chapels, chamber’s and cloisters to get lost in. That martyr fellow Thomas Becket who was Archbishop there got his brains smashed in for all his troubles. Heavens above”.

In the early 1800’s times were hard. Canterbury was left with many unemployed people. James found it impossible to find any permanent or satisfying work. “I find all this and England very depressing” he told his uncle.

That morning James had read in a discarded copy of the local newspaper ‘The Canterbury Tales’ that “Vast numbers returning from the Napoleonic wars have filled the ranks of the unemployed. The other headline on the front page that caught his eye was “Industrial revolution takes the working mans job away”.

It was the letters his sister Sarah sent that finally made up his mind. She spoke of Upper Canada as “a country full of promise….lakes, rivers and land a plenty, still to be explored…….we were allocated 100 acres of farmland by the government in addition to our free passage here……now we have built the log cabin it is much easier for the lads working the land and me cooking…..it was such hard work in the beginning clearing forests and all…….folks here help one another so you never feel isolated……..we are moving to Kingston and have leased the farm to new settlers…….brothers John and Henry are doing well with their law firm…….we are all very happy here.