Winter's Food Supply

During his initial years establishing the cod fishery in the Bay of Chaleur, Charles Robin (1743-1824) kept a journal in which he recorded his observations and reflections on daily life. Normally, these entrepreneurial Englishmen returned to Jersey for the winter, but because the company had already established a permanent fishing station in Cape Breton at Arichat, a few of the men, including Charles, stayed for the winter and did whatever work they could. For the most part this meant chopping wood and carrying out routine maintenance. In fact, as the journal entries show, most of their energy was expended in staying alive. Of course, that meant protecting whatever food they had grown or caught before winter arrived from the threats of the weather and the various predators and vermin that were equally occupied with trying to stay alive. As this entry from December 19, 1768 illustrates, even when an adequate food supply has been gathered and stored, the struggle to maintain it can be fierce:

This evening put some poison mixed with vinegar and molasses, in the store, fish house, underground cellar, and our house, having secured everything in the best manner we could. I can no longer have the patience to see the rats destroying everything. We found five drowned in the pickle of the pork barrel, near a dozen starved in a hogshead where we had some greens which they destroyed in spite of us, a keg of oil eaten through and part of the oil gone, a moose skin entirely eaten up. In our cellar they destroy what little potatoes and turnips we have although we cover well the barrels. They cut holes through every night and in the fish house they are tearing the fish in pieces.  

As winter progressed, and weather permitted, the men moved around among the small communities that had been established in the Canso area, in part for companionship, but more importantly to trade for foodstuffs that were either running out, or completely exhausted. Everywhere they went, they encountered others facing the same challenges, with some having reached an extreme state of desperation. The following journal entry from April 29, 1769 demonstrates the extent of the toll that winter had taken: 

I went on board the New England vessels, to try to get some bread, but they could not spare me any, having given already some to two or three families at Canso, who have wintered at Crow Harbour in Chedabouctou, but were obliged to leave that place about six weeks ago for want of provisions after having eaten all their dogs and cats - they had a young mulatto girl, whom they were going to kill had not a boat come to their assistance. 

The Widow of Hubert O'Quin

In the ledger book for 1843, of Philip Robin and Company, operating in Cheticamp, Cape Breton, there is an entry for the widow of Hubert O'Quin. The fact that there is an entry for a widow is not particularly noteworthy, as in any given year in the mid-1800s, among the 400 or so entries in the Company's ledgers, there are usually about a dozen widows. What stands out is the size of her account, relative to those of other widows. It is 54 pounds, 8 shillings and 4 pence, compared to the typical 2 or 3 pounds. This peculiar finding prompted two lines of questioning. First, who was this widow? And second, what was generating this level of financial activity?

Part of resolving the first issue hinged on determining that the name O'Quin was used by the Company clerks in place of Aucoin, one of the founding families of Cheticamp. Genealogical records tell us that Hubert Aucoin was born in 1791 to Anselme Aucoin and Alice Rose Chiasson. He was the second of nine children. He married Marie-Magdelene Bois, daughter of Regis Bois and Appoline Arsenault, on 25 July 1812. We are not sure when Marie-Magdelene was born, but records seem to suggest that she was twelve when she married Hubert. The couple had five children, three of whom were girls, with their fourth child, Norbert, being lost at sea on 5 April 1842. According to tradition, Hubert is supposed to have been shipwrecked off Cape North in about 1841. The ledgers tell a different story.

Tracking entries for Marie-Magdelene both before and after 1843, it turns out that she was actually widowed in 1831, her husband leaving her with a debt of about 37 pounds, and she is still on the books in 1852 -- a full two decades of seeming financial independence. Through those years, she purchases the usual supplies from the Company store: furnace oil, cloth, sugar, tobacco, rum, biscuit, tea, coffee, and various sundries. However, on occasion, she also pays for rental of a small boat, passage on a couple of voyages, and transfers amounts to various men in the community. Her sources of income include an impressive array of items: top-grade cured cod, inferior cured cod, whole cod, cod liver oil, haddock, dog fish, seal blubber and pelts, sheep and potatoes. At one point, she is even paid wages for a month's service on one of the Company's ships, the Young Witch.

Who was this woman?

Even Lawyers Get Duped Now and Then

While examining the letter books of the law firm of Purves and Archibald, of North Sydney, Nova Scotia, as part of my research into the operations of Charles Robin and Company in Cape Breton, I came across this letter of 21 April 1877.

Editor of the 'Illustrated Weekly'
New York
Dear Sir,
I am a subscriber to your valued paper, paid up till Nov. 7, 1878. In the issue of the 10th March last appeared an advertisement from the Standard Silverware Company of New York, offering on good terms certain wares upon payment of a fixed sum, and the forwarding to their address of a coupon. As will appear by the enclosed copy, I in good faith forwarded the sum of four dollars American currency and faithfully complied with the terms of the advertisement. I am without any reply and now write to ask you to make such inquiry as may appear necessary to you. If the advertisement is a fraud, I shall take care to have it exposed in the Nova Scotia papers, with the certain result of eviscerating the circulation of your Illustrated Weekly in this vicinity.
An early reply will oblige.
Yours very truly,
S. L. Purves
Barrister at law

Clearly, this letter has nothing to do with the Robin Company. What drew my attention to it in the first place was that, rather than being written in the interest of a client, the lawyer was writing on his own behalf. Further, rather than reflecting the objective matter-of-fact tone that one might expect to find in legal correspondence, this letter betrays more than a hint of hostility and emotional involvement.
Does this letter constitute a threat? It might sound like it to many readers, but the legal safety valve is contained in the use of the word 'if'. The lawyer is merely stating a potential consequence, if in fact the situation is found to be fraudulent. However, can the proposed action to negatively impact regional subscriptions really be considered a proportional response to the loss of four dollars, even if it was in US funds? I don't think so. Instead, I think that what we have here is a simple case of bruised ego being partially soothed through the expression of righteous indignation. 

Choosing the Right Title

I just finished writing a paper on the management of the cod fishery in Cape Breton in 1891. The next step is to send it out to an appropriate journal for publication. However, I'm stuck, because I can't come up with the right title. I know what I want to call it, but I also know what a huge mistake it would be to do so.

My proposed title is, 'Managing the Cod Fishery from Eastern Harbor, Cape Breton, in 1891'. Can you spot the problem? Before I get into that, let me tell you what's right about this title. First, it is important to ackowledge that this paper is best suited for a Canadian journal that publishes historical articles. With that in mind, an ideal title should indicate the particular subject matter of the paper, where it took place, and at what time. My title does all of that, but the problem, as you may have guessed, is with the word 'Harbor'. Shouldn't I be using 'Harbour'? Actually, no.

As you can see from the trading mark pictured above, Charles Robin and Company referred to the location of their business in Cape Breton, as 'Eastern Harbor'. Why they did this, is a matter for another day. The critical issue for the moment is that, if I want to maintain historical accuracy, then I should go with my proposed title, as it is. However, if I actually want my paper to get published, or if I want interested parties to be able to find my article, I either have to change the spelling, or drop the place name from my title. Here's why.

British spelling follows the conventions established by Samuel Johnson in his dictionary of 1755. In contrast, and reflecting systematic efforts at simplification and de-Latinization, American spelling follows the conventions established by Noah Webster in his dictionary of 1828. Now, with respect to everyday usage, Canadians, as they are with so many other things, are generally tolerant of either convention. However, when it comes to scholarly writing in Canada, we are with the British all the way. If I submit the paper as it is now, an editor is likely to reject it immediately, without ever reading it, wondering how I would have the audacity to submit something without having the courtesy or professionalism to check my spelling.

Cape Breton Shipping Marks

A century ago, if you wanted goods to be shipped to the proper location, you could not always assume that everyone handling your merchandise could read. Consequently, companies utilized shipping marks to make the task of identification easier. For example, Charles Robin and Company ran fishing stations at four locations on Cape Breton Island. Here are the shipping marks they used.

This first mark is for the Company's station at Eastern Harbour. This location corresponds to the modern town of Cheticamp, on the mainland across from Cheticamp Island. The Company's principal agent for Cape Breton had his office in this location, and most correspondence with suppliers, banks, and other business interests originated from here. 

The mark for Cheticamp indicates that goods were to be shipped to La Pointe, which is on the southwestern end of Cheticamp Island. The Robin's had their fish processing operation at this location from the late 1700s until 1903.

Arichat is on Isle Madame at the southeast end of Cape Breton Island. This location is actually the first place the Robins did business with local fishers, back in the 1760s. 

This final mark could prove confusing to those familiar with Cape Breton. Usually, Big Pond refers to a town on the East Bay section of the Bras d'Or Lake, well known as the home of the recently deceased singer, Rita MacNeil. However, the English-speaking Robins used the name Big Pond to refer to what was locally known as Grand Etang, a small village located on the north coast of Cape Breton between Cheticamp and Margaree Harbour. 

Who was Private Norman Boyd?

Among the many curiosities to be found in the archival collection at the Beaton Institute, at Cape Breton University, in Sydney, Nova Scotia, is a single sheet of paper that, at first glance, appears to be a letter sent home to his mother in Cape Breton, from a private serving in the Union Army during the American Civil War.

At the end of the letter, after asking his mother to write to him, and providing his address, the writer adds this odd postscript: "When I enlisted I gave my name as Norman Boyd, so that I would have a chance to get away." What could this mean?

At one point in the letter, the writer identifies a certain John McDonnell as his first cousin, so we might speculate that he gave the name Boyd instead of McDonnell. Unfortunately, the letter provides no clue as to his motivation for enlisting under an alias, or for why he chose the particular name Boyd. Was he trying to get away from something, perhaps a criminal record, and thus the name change would allow him to avoid being tracked down by authorities? Or, was he hedging his bets in the event that he chose to desert the army and make his way back to Canada without being caught? Was he an American citizen?

We may never be able to establish the true identity of Norman Boyd. The letter contains no specific addressee, only the salutation, "Dear mother." As for finding Private Boyd in muster rolls of the Union Army, he only provides his address as Siege Battery B, in the Army of the Potomac. We have no clue as to which regiment, division, or corps, this battery was attached.

Furthermore, we have no idea how this letter came to be part of the collection at the Beaton Institute. One of the critical aspects of archival management is to gather information about the provenance of the items that it receives and curates. Who was in possession of this letter at the time it was donated to the archive? Where did they get it? When? Did they know anything about the writer, the addressee, or any of the other individuals mentioned in the letter? Only those associated with the item can provide these sorts of details. Without this kind of information, items can remain hidden in plain sight. They are not lost. The archive has cataloged the item, and anyone wanting to look at it, merely needs to ask. However, without any context for the item, how would anyone know to ask?

Surnames and Community Identity

Researchers commonly use surname counts as a means of studying settlement patterns, ethnic heritage, and cultural identity in defined geographic areas. Cape Breton Island, with its long history of occupation, for either economic or military purposes, coupled with its relative isolation, provides an excellent site for this sort of analysis, and by way of illustration I examined the surname frequencies in three small communities.

Cheticamp is a long-established fishing community with a population of just over 3000, located at the northwest end of the Cape Breton Highlands National Park. Ingonish, with a population of just over 1200, is located at the Park's southeastern end, and is home to the renowned Keltic Lodge and the top-ranked Highland Links golf course. The town of Mabou, on the west coast of the Island, with a population of just over 1200, was historically associated with coal mining, but is now more closely associated with its cultural strength, as particularly evident in its musicians, such as the internationally acclaimed Rankin Family.

There are 502 households in Mabou, representing 170 different surnames, of which 112 (65.8%) occur only once. The three most common surnames, in terms of households, are Beaton (66), MacDonald (60), and Rankin (28). Together these three represent 30.6% of all households. 

There are 527 households in Ingonish, representing 198 different surnames, of which 133 (67.1%) occur only once. The three most common surnames are Donovan (31), Whitty (24), and in a tie for third place, Barron (18), Doucette (18), and MacLeod (18). Together these five represent 20.6% of all households.

There are 1292 households in Cheticamp, representing 264 different surnames, of which 182 (68.9%) occur only once. The three most common surnames are Aucoin (152), Poirier (100), and Chiasson (85). Together these three represent 26% of all households.

In total, there are 545 different surnames represented across these three communities, but only 14 of these, or 2.5%, are represented in all three communities. They are: Aucoin, Brown, Campbell, Doyle, Fraser, Gillis, Harrison, Leblanc, MacDonald, MacDougall, MacKinnon, MacLean, Murphy, and Thompson.

While there are a number of observations that could be made about these findings, it is perhaps most intriguing to note that in all three cases, two-thirds of the households represent unique surname occurrences. Further, based on the relative density of heritage families we might speculate that Mabou is the most culturally cohesive community, followed by Cheticamp, and then Ingonish.