145

EPILOGUE

Because of John Cambridge’s shipbuilding enterprise, a thriving com- munity was established west of Souris River, an area unsettled as late as 1800.

About the time this industry became unprofitable, John Knight arrived on the scene. He later decided to move his fishery operation across the River. At that time the cove at Souris East was far less suitable for harbouring ships in a storm than numerous other inlets along the coast. But John Knight built or bought a small wharf and constructed a breakwater to protect it.

Credit goes to John Cambridge and John Knight for the early beginning of Souris West and East, but, in the final analysis, it is the fishermen who have sustained the Town of Souris over the years.

Now to the darkened wharves a man goes down With the sure tide’s own granite in his face, And in his hands the future of a town, And in his walk the sea’s unconscious grace. Charles Bruce

The above lines could have been written especially for the fishermen of Souris “who go down to the sea in ships.” The following accounts will speak for all the fishermen who made our Town.

Every year since the beginning of the last century, a Cheverie descendent had been an inshore fisherman in Souris waters. Dolphie Cheverie: “I was born in 1885. Fished lobsters for sixty-one years. Fished when we just used oars and sail. My brother Pius and I had the first engine around here, a Toronto Junction engine. Had a clutch but we never knew how to use it right. About 1910, we had a vessel the Hilda M Horton.”

Pius Cheverie: “I was on the Nutwood when she was wrecked in December, 1900. Captain Tierney was in command, mate was Dan Lavie— Ned Moynagh and myself hands. There was one other, can’t remember, but Mosey Brough was cook. Two passengers, Ben Bushey and Theophilus MacDonald got off at Louisburg. Frank Conroy was supercargo for owners.

The day of the wreck, we’d left Louisburg, when this bad storm came up, easterly wind, snow and gale winds. Off Glace Bay we had to clear the decks to lighten the ship. As the Captain saw it, the only chance was to run for it to Sydney but we were blown off course and had to try to make St. Anne’s and find a good beaching place. The Captain lashed himself to the wheel and we got in the rigging. We landed on a reef not far from shore. Ned Moynagh and I were out on the bowsprit. I said, ‘I’m going ashore.’ Ned said, ‘You’ll never make it.’ I got a line and when three big ones had passed in succession, I thought there’d be a little lull and jumped and ran for all I was worth. Another caught me but didn’t knock me off my feet.