Part 19

North Sydney is the port from which the steamers of the Reid-Newfoundland line leave for Port-aux-Basques, Newfoundland; and from this port steamers may be taken for St. John’s, Newfoundland, as well as to Hawkesbury, Halifax, Charlottetown, Montreal, Quebec, St. Pierre and Miquelon. There is a good ferry service between here and Sydney, local lines for points on the Bras d’Or Lakes, and, in addition, there are steamers to northern points along the eastern shore of Cape Breton.

Those who visit here from the great manufacturing and mining centres of the United States will, of course, be familiar with coal mining and steel plants; but many others who come from other industrial centres will find it both interesting and instructive to visit the works of the Nova Scotia Steel and Coal Company and collieries, etc., in the neighborhood. The various industries of this kind hereabouts will soon rival the giant industries of Pennsylvania; and all interested in such industries should spend some days in seeing the many novel sights they offer. Those who have never seen a similar sight should by all means see a cast made at the Dominion Steel Works. The coal industry is now an immense one. In these days of coal at seven dollars a ton it seems strange to read that at the time of the inglorious Quebec Expedition under Admiral Walker, coal in quantities was taken from the Sydney cliffs with iron crow-bars.

The Marconi “Wireless” Station at Table Head, Glace Bay, with its four towers, is sure to be an object of interest to all who go near this part of the coast.

That giant fish the Albacore, or leaping-tuna, weighing from 500 to 800 pounds and over, is caught along the North Atlantic coast in certain favored spots. At Lockeport and other places on the South Shore of Nova Scotia they are caught in great trap nets. They are also caught off the Cape Breton coast; and as the honor of catching the first of these monstrous fish with rod and line not far from Sydney fell to the well-known sportsman, Mr. Ross, of Montreal, a description from Patillo of a hand-line expedition for albacore is here given.

“Stout cod-lines were used, 32 fathoms long. The hook was of steel, three-eighths of an inch thick. It was eight inches wide, and had a three-inch shank. A stiff, moderately low boat was used, and the lines were attached to swivel reels to run them on and off. Herrings were taken for bait. We started off and soon reached the fishing ground. Presently one of the fishermen casting nets nearby called out to us, ‘Halloa, boys! here’s a fellow!’ meaning an albacore, followed by a shout from another, and still another that they were about their boats; so we slowly moved outside the range of the boats, throwing over a herring every few yards to toll them along with us. When far enough away we secured the reel to the boat athwart, for we were a bit afraid of the fish we expected to grapple with. Then I threw over a herring to see if there were any albacores near us, and to our delight a monster rushed for it just under the surface, so I threw another loose herring, and then one attached to the hook. He rushed for the first one, whirled and took hold of the other, and we had hold of him. Then for a few minutes we had a good imitation of the antics of a wild prairie horse when first haltered. He jumped his full length out of the water, which gave us a very vivid idea of the monster we were attached to; then he started at an awful pace across the harbor. The line was running out swiftly, so that we had to move as quickly to get it into the notch in the stern, which we had wisely thought to make. Then I seized an oar and placed it for steering, while we both got positions to trim the boat. We feared something might break if the boat remained motionless; so to obviate this my friend succeeded in grasping the line partially, and thereby gradually started the boat, while I helped by sculling, so that by the time it was all off the reel, she was moving faster than ever she did before. The fish kept up the pace for at least ten minutes, towing us directly into the harbor; then he made a jump, turned and took us straight back to the fishing grounds. The men in fishing boats had been watching us with great interest, not supposing for a moment they were to have any part in it; but when they saw us going directly for them, the shouting and hooting and swearing that suddenly started from them would have been laughable to disinterested spectators. We could see plainly that if he continued the course he was then taking us, nothing short of a collision with one or more of the boats would follow.

“Pandemonium appeared about to reign. The boats were very near. We were all greatly excited, for we realized there was danger of foundering. I jumped with my knife to free the fish. In the rush my foot slipped, and I went headlong on my mate, the knife flying overboard. Before anything could be done to free the albacore, we ran into a boat with a heavy crash, filling it with water, and upsetting most of their herring. The sudden resistance caused the albacore to spring again, when, to save ourselves from being spilled out, one of the men cut the line.

“Then the boats were baled out and work resumed. After the danger was over we all roared with laughter, scream after scream.

“The freed albacore paraded all around the harbor that day, jumping out of the water dozens of times with our line still attached to him.

“Seeing so many around, we decided to try for another. The fishermen, however, hesitated about supplying us with bait, fearing a repetition of the peril if we hooked another. After coaxing, we got what we wanted and started off again, throwing herrings as we went. When we thought ourselves well out we stopped to make ready for another strike.

“I stood up and threw out a herring. In a moment it was grabbed. Then the baited hook went over, was seized in a trice, and once more we had a fish. This second fellow was even more lively than the first, and his rushing and jumping was something wonderful to witness. He began pulling us off at once. To make his speed less we crossed our oars and held back water, which acted like a drag. Suddenly like the other, he turned at right angles and led us off in the new direction, fully ten minutes. Then he headed for the boats—mischief in his eye. We were now threatened with mishap worse than before, for the boats were by this time deeply loaded. What was to be done? He made another leap at this juncture, falling more clumsily than before. He was weakening! The men in the boats were now gesticulating and yelling for us to set him free. But we were growing hopeful as the speed of the boat grew perceptibly less. Soon we were able to gather in line to within a few fathoms of him. Within 150 yards of the boats he stopped short. We hauled up. What a beauty! Ten feet long, and weighing over 600 pounds. Three cheers were given as with a rope through his gills we towed him to the beach. We gave him to the men whose herrings we had spilled. Surely a royal sport. The equal of any fishing on the Pacific Coast.”

Port Morien is reached by the Sydney and Louisbourg Railway, a line running east to the coast, and then south to Louisbourg. The little town on the coast has a harbor, breakwater, excellent beach, and a considerable fish industry. It also has valuable coal deposits.

The Mira River district, half-way down the coast towards Louisbourg, abounds in picturesque views; and a journey over the beautiful river, with its remarkable clear water, is a veritable treat. An old French shipyard was once here, some remains of which are still visible; and the hulls of many small craft may be seen below water. The course leads through a ravine that is sheltered from the sun for most of the day, the coves and small headlands of which give many pretty views. Pleasant fishing streams and brooks empty themselves along the course of the Mira River, and numerous evidences of the early French days are seen as the upper waters are reached. Pleasant islands, also, vary the way, some of them in picturesque clusters. A number of inviting-looking bays and several villages are passed, and as Marion Bridge is gained the country becomes more hilly and varied. Salmon River, which empties into the Mira, is a favorite fishing stream, and, in addition, it offers many beautiful views. Near the head of Mira River is Victoria Bridge, from which pleasant drives may be taken to Gaberouse on the bay of that name, to Framboise, and to Fourché, all quiet fishing villages remote from travel highways, and on that account interesting to see.

When the Treaty of Utrecht gave France the right to hold and fortify Cape Breton, the name of the Island became L’Isle Royale, and choice of a place was soon made for the erection of a stronghold or fortress to maintain possession of this commanding approach to her vast inland territory. Havre a l’Anglois was the place selected, and its name was changed to Louisbourg in honor of the French monarch of that time, Louis XIV. The history of this interesting place was for many years the history of the whole island.

Work on the fortifications of Louisbourg was commenced in the early part of the eighteenth century. It continued for over twenty years, and the whole defensive system was planned by Vauban, the great French engineer. So strong was the place made that it became known as the Dunkirk of America. Towards the middle of the century the population of Louisbourg had increased to 4000, and it was rapidly becoming a place of great importance. Islands in the harbor were strongly fortified to command the water approach, while on the land the solid fortification walls, over ten feet thick and more than thirty feet high, protected by a great ditch with earthworks, glacis, bastions and citadel, all united to form an almost impregnable position. The approaches could be swept by gun fire from nearly 150 cannon.

It was not long before the British colonists of New England took alarm at the construction of such formidable works in a place where they could be used as a basis of operations against them; a plan for attacking the fortress by volunteers from Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island and New Hampshire was agreed upon, and a strong expedition left Nantasket for Cape Breton waters.

From the very first, success attended the efforts of the Colonials; and after many spirited attacks, the place, though ably defended by the French, fell before the continued assault. This was in 1745. Three years later Cape Breton and its great fortress of Louisbourg were given back to France by the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle.

But there were to be other struggles between France and England for supremacy in North American waters, and it was inevitable that Louisbourg would again be attacked; and so in another ten years a British fleet assembled in Gabarus Bay to the south of Louisbourg, and another great struggle ensued. Boscawen, Amherst and Wolfe took part in this assault; and the place was again ably defended by the French, this time under the gallant de Drucour, who was able to direct the fire of over two hundred cannon against the invaders—so much had the defenses been strengthened. The formerly successful plans of the Colonials were again followed, and, as before, success came to the invaders, and Louisbourg fell with immense stores and munitions of war. A strong naval station being in existence by this time in Halifax, it was decided to totally destroy the fortifications of Louisbourg, and accordingly the whole of the defenses were demolished by an engineer corps from England, sent out for this purpose. Shortly before the opening of the American War of Revolution, Britain’s conquest of all Upper Canada was confirmed by treaty, and peaceful development of Cape Breton has since ensued.

Louisbourg, thus interesting historically, is conveniently reached from Sydney by rail. It has a pleasant harbor, free from winter ice, and is a fairly busy little shipping port. The site of the old fortress is at Point Rochefort a few miles distant from the railway station; but from first leaving the train, evidences of Louisbourg’s former greatness may be seen, and relics are in main of the houses in the village. Cannon balls are still found in the surrounding fields, and many of the houses contain stone from the demolished walls of the fortress. The situations of the bastions may still be traced, and some of the casemates used for sheltering the women and children from gun fire during the attacks are now used as shelters by flocks of sheep. That women can rise to any height when emergency demands, is shown by the incident remembered of Madame de Drucour, wife of the French Governor in the second siege, who with her own hands fed the cannon with powder and balls.

No systematic exploration of the ruins has yet been attempted. The graveyard, too, where French, English and Colonial dead lie in hundreds, rests unmarked by stone of any kind. There is a general monument, however, erected on the very spot where the keys of the fortress were handed to General Pepperell when the fortress fell before Colonial arms. It was erected by the Society of Colonial Wars, and bears the simple inscription, ‘To Our Heroic Dead.’

Cod fishing was formerly carried on extensively from Louisbourg. Several of the old-time inhabitants owned thirty or forty vessels each.

There are several small fishing settlements in the neighborhood to which driving excursions may be made, and in summer time a pleasant sailing trip may be taken to several villages on Gabarus Bay to the south.

Leaving the South Shore to be visited from its most convenient centre, St. Peters, the town of Baddeck may next be chosen as a favorable place from which to view the central districts of the Island, as well as those lying along the upper east and west coasts. It will be remembered that steamers leave Sydney for east coast points, and Mulgrave for places on the west coast; and these trips are both enjoyable on fine summer days, affording as they do pleasant views of many a quaint little harbor and village. But for a thorough and intimate acquaintance with the beautiful island scenery, driving trips and walks should be taken from Baddeck, Whycocomagh and Mabou. Baddeck is easily reached from Sydney by Intercolonial Railway to Grand Narrows or Iona, from which places the steamer _Blue Hill_ connects with incoming trains. Baddeck may also be reached by steamer from Sydney.

The town of Baddeck is a pleasant little centre from which to see much of the surrounding country; in addition, it is in itself a homelike and quiet resort where enjoyable days of rest may be spent, varied by drives and walks, and the comings and goings of the several steamers that make this a place of call. It is a fine place for boating and sailing, and it is one of the centres that most tourists prefer, quiet and tranquil, but not deserted, and where some social pleasures with other visitors may be enjoyed. It is undoubtedly one of the best centres from which to see characteristic Cape Breton scenery. The town is on a bay harbor of the upper Bras d’Or Lake, about midway between the northern outlet to the Atlantic and the southern reach that ends in Whycocomagh Bay, being about twenty miles or more from each place.

There are some beautifully-placed bungalows along the shore, one of the number belonging to George Kennan, where that _litterateur_ and energetic traveller may be seen gardening in his moments of leisure.

On a beautiful estate of a thousand acres, not far from Baddeck, the eminent scientist and inventor, Dr. Alexander Graham Bell, has his summer home. Wherever the telephone has reached, Dr. Bell’s name is known; and that is tantamount to saying he is one of the best-known men of the world. Dr. Bell is the exemplar of the scientific inventor, the type that builds on sound knowledge, rational induction and logical experiment, building up patiently and through years of toil and diligent application, step by step, a scientific edifice that would once have been deemed a daring conception of an imaginative mind. More fortunate than other inventors, who, like the alchemists of old, have toiled without rest or intermission—and the fruits of whose labors have been denied them—Dr. Bell has reaped the reward due to an honored member of that profession which advances the progress of civilization by bounds of a thousand years at a time; and here in Beinn Bhreagh, or “lovely mountain,” he lives a life that is one of enjoyment—although not one of ease in the sense that he “does nothing.”

The estate is one that may be termed a perfect heaven for the absorbed worker in scientific, literary or other mental effort requiring surroundings favorable for concentration of thought. Here with machine and wood-working shops, electrical laboratory, erecting places and store houses for aeroplanes, wharves, shelter houses and lake for testing hydroplanes, the busy inventor works away a good part of the year when not at his Washington home.

Dr. Bell also gives time to scientific stock-farming, and keeps elaborate records of the excellent results that are gained from time to time. He has a competent staff of workers, all housed in the midst of ideal surroundings on his estate.

The drives about Beinn Bhreagh are exceedingly lovely, and the ever-changing water view is a continual source of delight. “Surprise View,” well above the level of the lake, has been well-named, for in following the winding woodland road a glorious panoramic scene of great beauty suddenly springs into view as if by magic.

A fine observation tower crowns the heights over all. From it an unsurpassed view may be had of ocean, lake, woodland crest, high mountain and pastoral valley.

The natural beauties of the neighborhood are truly remarkable. Even the farms on the western or greater channel, facing Boularderie, are beautifully situated on the heights, with picturesque ravines and dells, and lovely little brooks of crystal that flow along shady ways to the lake far below.

The whole wide world possesses few nobler views than that seen from the living rooms and porches of the Beinn Bhreagh home. It is an inspiring prospect, beautiful each morning as the sun illumines the new continents and mountain ranges of cloudland; and lovely by night when under the glorious tranquility of the stars, the moon and her handmaidens, the fleecy clouds, weave arabesques of unparalleled splendor.

“White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep. Light mists, whose soft embraces keep The sunshine on the hills asleep!

* * * * *

O shapes and hues, dim beckoning through Yon mountain gaps, my longing view Beyond the purple and the blue.

* * * * *

I read each misty mountain sign, I know the voice of wave and pine, And I am yours, and ye are mine.

* * * * *

Life’s burdens fall, its discords cease, I lapse into the glad release Of nature’s own exceeding peace.”

A favorite drive is that from Baddeck to the upper waters of the Baddeck River, and also by way of St. Ann’s to the North River. It was at St. Ann’s that Nicholas Denys had one of his fortified posts in early days. The river scenery is everywhere charming, with pretty brooks, green woodland, banks of ferns, and clustering patches of wild flowers. At St. Ann’s and North River the water views are very choice, and the drive is a constant succession of delights. There is a grand side to the scenery of this district, for the mighty hills have been riven asunder in many places, and romantic gorges are seen from numerous places on the way. Indian Brook, with precipitous banks, and rocky waterfall, is a delightful scene.

The little places on the coast road to Ingonish are far remote from travel routes, and they are full of interest. The scenes are extremely bold and striking, and by some are thought to resemble the features of Norway. Cap Enfumé, commonly called “Old Smoky” on account of its almost perpetual cap of mist, is a bold object in the view, for it towers up almost perpendicularly for some twelve hundred feet. This cape has been termed one of the eastern bulwarks of North America, where the mighty deep lashed into fury by the eastern tempests, thunders in vain against this eternal rampart.

One of the finest panoramic views, and innumerable others at close range, may be seen at and around Ingonish. Mountains, islands, beautiful bays, nestling villages and glorious air are here. Walks and excursions on foot and by boat may be had in many directions, and the beauties of the place need fear comparison with no other district. The descent on the other side is believed to be one of the sights of the Maritime Provinces. The village on the broad beach, the three harbors of Ingonish, the picturesque lighthouse, beautiful Ingonish Island, with its Sentinel Rock, and the far away Cape North range of mountains, make a picture of superb beauty. Franey’s Chimney itself is no inconspicuous object, being nearly 1400 feet high. A French cruiser once went ashore not far from Money Point, and active tides were wont to throw up gold coins from the wreck on to the strand. For some years people used to go gold fishing, with long poles having the ends daubed with pitch to which the coins adhered. Ingonish was known in French days as Inganische, and relics of those days may still be found. There is excellent bathing at Ingonish and it is a splendid place for a summer vacation of a restful kind. Neil’s Harbor, Aspy Bay and Cape North are usually reached by steamer, and inland from these places will be found unexplored land where caribou and bear are still found. This whole area, including Bay St. Lawrence, is beautiful, and destined to become more and more frequented as hotels are built and roads and other facilities are improved; and in due time a railway will doubtless skirt the coast.