“Make us proud, lads.” Those were the last words the brothers, Ernest (Ernie) and Hubert (Bert) White, heard their father say, as they leaned over the ship’s railing and waved goodbye. Ernie called back, but the lump in Bert’s throat only allowed a nod. He would miss them all; his parents, his Aunt Dolly, and his other eleven siblings, but none as much as his beloved Gran.
The entire family and Ernie’s fiancé, Ada, had travelled from Sandwich to London on the train to see the brothers set sail for Canada. Bert had sat with his Gran, holding her hand in his so she could squeeze it whenever she suffered a bout of pain. Knowing she wasn’t well, he had told her she didn’t have to come, but she had been determined to be there when he boarded the ship. When they said goodbye on the pier, it was all they could do to hide their sorrow, both knowing they would probably never see each other again.
Of all her seventeen grandchildren, Bert was Gladys’ favourite. As soon as he could talk, he began to sing, thus she knew they had a kindred spirit. His mother had named him Bert having no idea that his great-grandmother had shared the same name. Gladys had never told anyone that her mother, Bert Tunner, had sang and danced in the garbage-laden pubs and streets of Old Nichol; one of the worst slum districts in London and the place where Gladys was born in 1829.
By the time he was seventeen, Bert was adept at singing and playing the piano and the violin. Although he wasn’t vain, he took pride in his appearance. He had a good head of black hair and kept it brushed neatly to one side with a natural wave in the front. His features were evenly proportioned, and not only was he a handsome young man with an amiable personality, but he was fearless, inquisitive and adventurous—an ideal candidate for a journey to the wilds of Canada.
Ernie, not quite as adventurous as Bert, was equally as fearless and he also looked forward to the voyage. Although only an inch taller than Bert, Ernie had a habit of standing overly straight, which exaggerated his height—and his slightly protruding tummy. His hair, a bit lighter in colour than Bert’s, had already begun to thin, adding generously to his countenance, which not only shone, but beamed. Always full of enthusiasm, Ernest practically bounced when he walked, and his overall appearance portrayed a true optimist with a personality to match.
His voice wasn’t as melodic as Bert’s, but he was equally fond of singing and they were both members of their church’s choir. Ernie preferred to dress conservatively, and for the voyage had chosen a black suit, white shirt and black tie. Bert, who referred to his brother’s suit as ‘Funerary Finery,’ had instead purchased a less sombre suit in a medium grey with a light blue check that was belted at the waist in the latest style. He shocked his family even more when he complimented the suit with a pale blue shirt and a blue and navy striped tie. Both wore bowler hats, but Bert wore his at a jauntier angle.
Both brothers were trained machinists and welders, and Ernie had been working on a bridge for the Government when he fell and landed on his head. Every full moon thereafter, he suffered with severe headaches until the pain became so excruciating that the queen’s surgeon—so their father declared—was called in to examine him. The prognosis was that a total change of scenery might be worth trying. Thus, his father decided to send him to Canada for a time, and being convinced that the country was not yet fully civilized, he reasoned that it would be safer if he had a companion. Bert was thrilled when his father chose him.
Martin White, whose success in the construction business was intermittent due to his eccentricities, was at this time low on funds. Nevertheless, he insisted his sons travel across the sea first class and well clad, even if their pockets were empty. Thankfully, meals were included in the price of the fare. When his Gran offered to give them spending money, Bert insisted they wouldn’t need it, saying that if there wasn’t a preacher aboard, they could probably conduct a Sunday service. He said Ernie could manage the preaching and he could take care of the music. He also said he was taking along a pair of shears and would offer to cut hair if anyone needed a trim.
“But you have never cut anyone’s hair in your life!” Gladys protested.
“Don’t worry, Gran, I shall snip a little off here and a little off there and then tell them it’s the latest style in Canada. We shall arrive in Montreal with our pockets bulging with money.” Gladys just shook her head and laughed. She would give anything to be there to see it, having no doubt they would be able to achieve whatever they set out to do.
Once the ship was under way, the two voyagers soon forgot any regrets they had about leaving the home they grew up in, and like two young boys, they examined every nook and cranny they were allowed to explore. Although Bert was twenty-three and Ernie twenty-five, they had all they could do to keep from holding their arms out at their sides and running back and forth in the wind on the promenade deck.
When it was time for tea, they were seated at a table with six other passengers: a friendly young couple from London, a single middle-aged man, who spoke French but very little English, and another English couple with a pouting teenage daughter. By the time the meal was over, Ernie had all the adults chatting away as though they were the best of friends, and the teenage daughter was no longer pouting, having fallen madly in love with Bert.
There was a piano in the ship’s salon, and once Bert played and sang a few songs, he couldn’t enter the room without being cajoled into playing more. His Gran had taught him most of the American composer, Stephen Foster’s, songs and they were the favourite of everyone on board since many hadn’t heard them before. They especially liked the song, Beautiful Dreamer. Some of the passengers even went so far as to approach the captain and suggest he hire Bert to play every evening. The captain, who had also heard Bert play and had enjoyed it as well, sent for him.
Ernie, thinking he would be the best negotiator, went along with Bert to the captain’s quarters. Captain Bradshaw Potts, a middle-aged man with a portly figure and a tidy goatee, appeared to be much sterner than he actually was. “Now then, Mr. White,” he began, looking very sombre, “it seems you are much in demand, and since I have hired a pianist from time to time, perhaps you would like to take on the job while you’re aboard. I usually pay by the hour, so if you’ll excuse the pun, it’s a matter of no play, no pay.” Then he surprised the brothers by putting his head back and emitting a hearty laugh.
Ernie took this as a favourable sign and suggested that they be allowed to perform other means of entertainment as well. “All free of charge of course, and at no cost to you, captain. Of course, we shan’t refuse small gratuities, but we shan’t ask for them either.”
The captain began to wonder if he had made a mistake. These young men might be smooth-talking shysters for all he knew, and he had a duty to protect his passengers. Before he had a chance to say anything, Ernie added, “Captain, may I inquire if you have a preacher aboard?”
“No, I usually handle any burials and weddings myself, why do you ask?”
“Well, you see, my brother and I shall be happy to conduct Sunday services for the two Sundays we are at sea. I have taken the service at our church from time to time and have my bible with me, and Bert can lead the singing. We are members of the Anglican Church, but we welcome all denominations. Would that be acceptable?”
All thoughts of shysters vanished; the captain smiled and replied, “Gentlemen you’ve just put my mind at rest. I will even attend your services, and if there’s anything you need, please feel free to ask.”
Ernie was in his glory. He hadn’t been completely truthful when he said he’d taken the service at his church—he’d simply read a few pieces from the scriptures, but he had always longed to preach and wasted no time preparing a sermon. After the first Sunday, Bert declared that his brother did such a splendid job, he could have been preaching in Westminster Abbey. Most of the boys in the White family knew how to tell a story, but none as well as Ernie, thus he had no trouble holding the attention of his audience.
Bert also did a commendable job by playing the piano and leading the singing. He chose the liveliest hymns and some members of the congregation declared it the most entertaining church service they had ever attended. Thus, all were very generous when the collection plate was passed, allowing the brothers enough money for a week’s accommodation when they arrived in Montreal.
Although Bert didn’t have an opportunity to practice barbering, he cleverly invented another means of raising money. He organized a daily exercise club, and for a nominal fee, he led the group through a daily morning routine of stretches and bends before doing six laps at a fast pace around the promenade. Fortunately, the latest style in women’s attire had no cumbersome hoops or bustles to slow the ladies down, and because some of the men and women were single, a few romantic relationships developed.
Because the brothers were interested in all types of machinery, they asked the captain if they might go below to see the engine room. The captain replied that he had another man aboard who had asked to do the same thing, so he would arrange a tour for the three of them. When he said the other man’s name was Leonard Striker, Ernest said they had already met. Leonard and Blanch Striker were the friendly young couple who ate at their table, and both had joined Bert’s exercise group. That evening they visited with the Strikers before retiring.
“Are you intending to remain in Canada for a time?” Ernie asked Leonard.
“Yes, we have plans to immigrate if we like it. And you?”
“I really do not know. First, I shall have to find work, and then I shall decide.”
“What about you, Bert,” Mrs. Striker asked.
“If it’s like I’ve imagined, I shall probably stay in Canada for the rest of my life. Have you been to Montreal before, Mrs. Striker?”
“No, this is our first visit, but I have done a little reading about it. Evidently it is a very religious city. After the author, Mark Twain, visited there, he wrote that it was the first time he was ever in a city where you couldn’t throw a brick without breaking a church window. I imagine they are mostly Roman Catholic churches though, but I’ve also read that they are quite beautiful, so I am looking forward to seeing them.”
“I am sure there shall be a few Anglican churches as well. If not, Ernie enjoys preaching and he shall soon have one up and running.” Then finding the woman easy to talk to, he went on to say, “But what intrigues me most about the country is the freedom the average Canadian enjoys, or so I have been told. I mean, I have heard that the only difference between the rich and the poor is a bank account, and titles are of no consequence.”
“Oh my, you do sound rebellious!”
“A trait I’m proud to say I inherited from my grandmother. She was, and still is, a freedom fighter.”
“Well, I just hope Canada is what you say it is, but I’ll be happy if we don’t have to contend with that dreary fog for days on end.”
Bert smiled then asked, “Forgive me if I am being too inquisitive, but do you have family in Canada?”
Leonard, who had been listening, answered for his wife, “No, both of our families live in England, but we hope to raise a few Canadians once we get settled. Isn’t that so, Blanch?” he asked, while putting his arm around her. Instead of answering, Blanch blushed sweetly and smiled.
When Ernie asked Leonard what sort of job he would be looking for when they arrived in Canada, Leonard surprised him and said that he already had a job and a house to rent. “I am sure you have heard of the English Shipyard Company, Vickers, Sons, and Maxim? Well, I’ve been working for them for the past five years, and now they are building a shipyard in a place called Maisonneuve. I believe it’s a neighbourhood in Montreal. The company has hired me, along with a few more English tradesmen, to train some of the local workers, and because they want their employees to remain in Canada, they are providing us with a place to live.”
“What sort of work do you do?” Ernest asked.
“I’m a machinist.”
Bert looked at Ernie and they both laughed. For a second, Leonard looked offended, but then Bert said, “Forgive us, but that’s what we are!”
“You mean you are both machinists?” When they nodded, Leonard looked thoughtful for a minute then said, “The White Brothers”—you wouldn’t by any chance be the White brothers who blew up one of Queen Bess’s cannons?”
“Oh dear, I thought we would be able to leave our past mistakes behind,” Ernie answered while pretending to be embarrassed.
“I must hear the story, or I shan’t sleep a wink tonight. Please, Bert, do tell us all about it,” Blanch begged.
“If you insist, but it’s not something we are proud of. You see, Ernie and I, along with our eldest brother, Sid, were hired to dismantle all Queen Bess’s cannons. We had almost finished the job, except for one cannon that we could not budge, and no amount of prying would loosen it from its setting. Finally, we decided to use dynamite. Unfortunately, none of us had any experience working with it before. We had no idea how much to use, so instead of doing the sensible thing and asking someone, we decided that more was sure to work better than less, and in a manner of speaking, we were right. That cannon certainly moved!”
Here Ernie joined in and said, “I’m sure they could hear the noise it made as far away as London.” Thinking about it caused him to begin laughing, and Bert, who could still picture it, couldn’t help but laugh too.
“That old cannon went flying up in the air as though it had been shot from a volcano. I can see it now,” he said with tears running down his cheeks. They both couldn’t stop laughing, and it was so contagious that the Strikers joined in.
Finally, when they stopped laughing, Ernie apologized, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Striker, but it makes us laugh just to think of it. Neither of us could hear for a week and had to ask everyone to write down whatever they had to say.”
“But that’s not the end of their story, my dear,” Leonard added, “From what I’ve been told—instead of falling into the ocean, the cannon, still in one piece, landed right in the middle of a certain Lord’s fancy rose-bed, just when her Ladyship was hosting a garden party. They say that she and her guests ran for cover, thinking they were being attacked by the French.”
“That rumour is not quite right,” Bert insisted. “Although, his Lordship and Ladyship were in fact, enjoying a cup of tea in the garden, they were alone. They did, however, make a run for the potting shed. Then, after recovering from the shock, they were even more astounded to discover that there was one of Queen Bess’s cannons sitting among their prize roses as though it had grown there.”
“Instead of being upset, his Lordship, a man with a jolly good sense of humour, and a vivid imagination, was delighted. When we arrived to recover the gun, fully expecting to be met by a very irate landowner, his Lordship begged us to leave it where it landed. He even went so far as to promise that if we would just go away and not say anything about it, he wouldn’t either. I thought he kept his promise, but he must have shared the story with someone, because you heard about it.”
Just then the captain came by and notified them that they could visit the engine room in the morning. Before they said goodnight, Leonard suggested they come to Maisonneuve with him. He said that, seeing as Vickers was an English firm, they had an excellent chance of finding employment. That night Bert and Ernie went to bed with high hopes.