Building Better Than They Knew:

Point Prim Lighthouse and the Road to Canada

 

No event in history has ever taken place in a vacuum; that is to say, everything that has ever occurred in the past is the result of at least one event, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, which preceded it.  This model is perfectly illustrated on a point of land in eastern Queen’s County, emanating from Prince Edward Island’s southern shore and jutting into the Northumberland Strait.  Although built in 1845, the story of Point Prim Lighthouse begins years before its construction.  It is a tale largely political in nature, involving the Island’s checkered history with lighthouses in Nova Scotia and the desire to establish its own, and the government’s battle to achieve reliable steam communication on the Strait.  While both issues started out on separate trajectories, they would eventually come to be on a collision course with one another in 1845.  And as we’ll see, some of the individuals involved in the birth of the lighthouse at Point Prim would later be involved in the birth of Canada. 

Illuminating Investments:  The Cranberry, Scatarie, & St. Paul Lighthouses

Today, one need not drive very far to find a lighthouse in Prince Edward Island.  Dotting the coastline from tip to tip, these beacons have come to define our strong connection with the sea, and are fixtures in many Island communities.  It may seem strange, then, to think that there was a time before lighthouses on the Island; however, Islanders certainly weren’t in the dark.  

Before the advent of the Point Prim Lighthouse, the government and tax payers of the Island found themselves financially involved in the construction, and maintenance, of lighthouses that were beginning to appear in Nova Scotia in the early years of the 19th century.  Owing to a lack of House of Assembly journals for the Island covering the period from 1818 – 1824, the first mention on record of the Island’s involvement with lighthouses arises in the 1825 sitting of the House.  Ten years prior, in 1815, the Nova Scotia government had built the Cranberry Island Lighthouse, situated off of Canso.  While owned by that province, the very nature of the lighthouse made it a communal structure, used by any and all mariners plying the waters around it.  For this reason, Nova Scotia hit on the idea of having its neighbours contribute funds for its construction, followed by additional annual payments for its upkeep.  After all, the lighthouse was a benefit to them as well.

Unfortunately, the play-by-play for the first ten years of this arrangement is unknown; however, what we can say is that, by 1825, Prince Edward Island at least appears to have become somewhat disenchanted.  Since the construction of the Cranberry Island Lighthouse, Nova Scotia had not only been exacting an annual fee from the Island, but had also been imposing an additional tax, called a ‘light duty’, on Island vessels to the tune of 6d per ton per voyage.  And what’s more, the collectors of this tax were apparently none too gentle in acquiring it:

Resolved, That the mode of collecting these Light dues by boarding vessels on the high                                                     seas, is to the last degree dangerous and exceptionable, and may lead to riot and bloodshed among the crews of vessels, whose masters are either ignorant or doubtful of the legality of the demand, and that several instances have occurred where the Collector of the Light dues has seized and taken part of the sails of vessels, bound from this Island to Europe to satisfy the same.

This aside, the Government of Prince Edward Island was by no means opposed to the concept of a light duty, so long as the lighthouse in question proved a benefit to its own interests:

Resolved, That this House is willing to sanction the Collection of Light dues at the ports of this Island in behalf of Nova Scotia, or any of the other adjacent colonies, that may erect Light Houses which are deemed beneficial to the trade of this Island, the rate of the charges being first submitted to the consideration of this House.

It would not be until the second sitting of the House in October of 1825 that the Island would receive a response to its grievances, which had been forwarded to Nova Scotia by Lt. Governor John Ready.  When it did come, it was from Michael Wallace, a senior councillor of that province.  His response:

“I have recommended a relaxation of the duty now payable by the coasting vessels owned in the neighbouring Provinces under a certain tonnage for the present year.”

And further:

“As none of the Provinces derive a greater benefit from Cranberry Light than Prince Edward Island, it would be desirable to receive some proposition from your Legislature toward the support of it, which would by duly considered here, and might render the collection of dues on vessels actually bound to, and from Prince Edward Island, unnecessary, since it is by no means the wish of this government to interrupt the trade and prosperity of its Sister Colonies.”

“And, I can assure your Excellency, when the placing of a Light-House on Cranberry Island was determined upon, the benefit and security to the trade of Prince Edward Island, was not overlooked.”

Over the next few years, and well into the 1830s, the Government of Prince Edward Island would find itself continually dealing with the issue of the Cranberry Island Lighthouse and the annual sum to be paid for its maintenance, and how that sum would be collected; however, a valuable lesson had been learned:  the Island would not be so eager to support such a project again before first determining whether or not any benefit was to be had.

It would not be long before Prince Edward Island found itself faced with contributing to another lighthouse.  The very next year, in 1826, the idea of a lighthouse on St. Paul’s Island, off the northern tip of Cape Breton, was broached in Nova Scotia.  In the following sitting of the House in 1827, a resolution was passed:

Resolved, that this house will contribute rateably in the proportion of the Tonnage of Vessels belonging to, or trading to this Colony, towards the establishing and supporting a Light House on the Island of St. Paul, along with the Governments of Nova-Scotia, New Brunswick, and Lower Canada; and that his Excellency the Lieut. Governor be requested to appoint one or more Commissioners, to correspond with these Governments on the subject.

By 1830, Prince Edward Island was on board, but not without much bandying back and forth with the other parties involved.  An initial contribution not exceeding £150 for the erection of the lighthouse, followed by an additional duty imposed on any and all vessels leaving the Island for its upkeep, was agreed upon.  Following this, however, the St. Paul project appears to have been placed on a back burner, for it remained out of discussion here until 1835/1836, when the cause was again taken up, this time in conjunction with a proposed lighthouse for nearby Scatarie Island.  With the prospect of having to contribute to not one but two new lighthouses, the Island government decided on the appointment of a commissioner to deal specifically with this issue, who could function as an arbitrator and ensure the Island would not be forced to pay any more than its fair share, and also assist the commissioners from the other provinces in determining the best locations for the lighthouses.  An act to that effect was passed, and the following year Thomas Owen was named to the position.  In 1839, the lighthouses were erected.

A (Light) House to Call Our Own

For many years then, Prince Edward Island had been in the business of lighthouses.  There had been ups, and there had been downs, and a few lessons learned along the way.  But for all its involvement in the lighthouses of others, the Island remained without one to call its own.  That was soon to change.

Fittingly enough, the first petition for anything resembling a lighthouse to be erected in Prince Edward Island was presented in the House of Assembly in 1836.  The proposed location?  None other than Point Prim!  Dated February 22nd of that year, the petition was signed by “divers Merchants and Shipowners of the Town of Charlottetown” (the first signature is that of prominent merchant and shipbuilder James Peake, who would play a role in the establishment of the lighthouse in 1845), and stated:

That much of the danger and inconvenience for this harbour [Charlottetown] would be obviated by the erection of a Beacon on Point Prim…

Unfortunately, the petition does not elaborate on what exactly was meant by “beacon”; however, what we do know is that the “beacon” ought not to be equated with a lighthouse, since Islanders by this point were quite familiar with the latter and thus would have known the proper terminology.  Our best guess is that the beacon was a primitive structure that would at least have provided a visible identifier on the point.  In any event, the House resolved to contribute £8 for its construction and nothing more of it was spoken, leaving the question of whether or not it was ever built open for discussion.

The beacon was either never erected in the first instance, or it proved to be an insufficient structure, for three years later in 1839 another petition was presented to the House, this time from “divers Shipowners and Masters of Vessels”, who desired a fully-fledged lighthouse to be built on Point Prim.  It is most unfortunate that this petition is no longer extant, for it is the first such document on record pertaining to the physical construction of a lighthouse in Prince Edward Island.  The petition was forwarded to a Special Committee to investigate what funds, if any, ought to be contributed to the project; however, no response was given.     

   With this petition, the era of the lighthouse had begun.  It was followed in 1840 by similar pleas from “divers Ship Owners, Ship Masters, and others, from the Ports of Richmond Bay and New London” concerned with the security of shipping interests here and in nearby provinces, and urging for a lighthouse to be built at North Cape.  This time, it was further stipulated – no doubt based on past experience with Nova Scotia – that the Lt. Governor at the time, Sir Charles Fitzroy, impress upon the neighbouring provinces the necessity of contributing to its erection and maintenance.  The petitions were referred to the Committee of the whole House on the State of the Colony, yet nothing more was accomplished on the matter. 

The following year, on February 2nd, another petition for a lighthouse was brought to the attention of the House.  This time it came from “divers Shipowners and others, interested in Trade and Shipping in the Port of Charlottetown and the adjacent Ports”, who expressed concern over the numerous vessels having been lost around Point Prim and the “dangers to which Mariners [had been] exposed” in the vicinity, and called for the erection of a lighthouse there.  As per precedent, it was a necessity that neighbouring colonies offer a contribution to its construction and upkeep; and as with the petition from 1840, this one was likewise submitted to the Committee of the whole House.

Shortly thereafter, in the same sitting, the issue of building a lighthouse at North Cape, this time in association with the construction of one at Cape Bear or Wood Islands (or any place on the east coast that would facilitate navigation in the eastern portion of the Northumberland Strait) was brought up again in the House, along with two resolutions.  The first was that the Lt. Governor enter into conversation with not only the governments of the neighbouring colonies, but also the Imperial Government, as well as the Government of the United States via the Governor General of British North America, in order to acquire contributions from all parties for their erection and maintenance, since the lighthouses would be in the interest of all.  As for the second resolution, the Committee (of the whole House on the State of the Colony) felt it was also necessary to have a lighthouse built to serve Charlottetown Harbour, and that a committee be appointed to determine “the cheapest and most efficient mode for its establishment and future maintenance, as well as the best site for its erection.”  Both resolutions were passed.

Two months later, the response of the Right Honorable Lord Sydenham, Governor General of British North America, was presented to the House:

“I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your Excellency’s [Sir Charles Fitzroy] Despatch of the 27th ultimo, covering copies of an Address and Resolution from the House of Assembly of Prince Edward Island, having in view an application, through me, to the United States’ Government, for assistance towards the construction of certain Light Houses on the coast of that Island.

“In reply, I beg to acquaint your Excellency, that it appears to me inexpedient to make a communication of this nature to the Government of the United States; and I must therefore express my regret, that I cannot meet the wishes of the House of Assembly of Prince Edward Island in this matter.”

So much for that tactic.  In the same sitting, however, the report on the proposed lighthouse for Charlottetown Harbour was tabled, having been concluded that the optimal location for the structure was on the western point of Governor’s Island, and that the government should pay for it using the money that had been collected over the past few years under the various light duty acts (the money had been collected with the understanding that it would ultimately fund lighthouse construction on the Island).  It is interesting to note that this lighthouse, intended to cater almost exclusively to Charlottetown, was recommended to be paid for by the Island government alone, as opposed to the recent petitions which called for soliciting contributions from other colonies in order to defray expenses.  Even more interesting is that the report was agreed to almost unanimously, with only three members in opposition, and a resolution immediately passed which placed the sum of £110 at the disposal of the Lt. Governor to be used in its erection – a clear indication that this was the lighthouse in which the powers that be were most interested.  On April 19th, an address was sent to Fitzroy notifying him of this, and that the lighthouse, a small one, was “to be erected on such a site as [his] Excellency shall ascertain to be most eligible for that purpose…”

As opposed to simply selecting the site himself, Fitzroy instead decided to seek assistance, and dispatched three letters, one each to the Honorable Commander Keith Stewart, Captain Alexander Milne of the HMS Crocodile, and Captain Henry Bayfield, naval surveyor in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence.  In relatively short order, all three responded, expressing the same sentiment that the lighthouse be constructed, not on Governor’s Island, but on Point Prim.  It is best related by Captain Milne, who writes:

“The term ‘Harbour Light’, as mentioned in the Resolution of the Assembly, clearly defines a Light House to point out the ‘Entrance of a Harbour’, and if the literal meaning of their words be taken as applicable to the Harbour of Charlottetown, there can only be one situation where the Light House can be erected, viz: on ‘Block House Point’.  But  having understood that the House of Assembly proposed the Light House should be on Governor’s Island, I presume its position is intended for any part of the Bay, where it can be of the utmost service to vessels trading to and from the Harbour of Charlottetown.  Under this impression, I am decidedly of opinion, that if the Light house should be erected on Point Prim, it will be of more general use to navigation, and to the trade of the Port of Charlottetown and Hillsborough Bay, than if placed either on the Block House or Governor’s Island.

“In this position it will be an excellent guide to all vessels approaching Hillsborough Bay from the Westward and Eastward, and will be a leading mark to clear the Rifleman shoals.  By it, Point Prim itself will always be clearly defined; and the shoal which extends from that point will be safely rounded in the darkest night…By its position on Point Prim, you can make certain of seeing and approaching the Light House before you approach any of the dangers which extend between Point Prim and the Harbour of Charlottetown; and will not only serve as a Light House for that Harbour, but will be of general utility to all parts of Hillsborough Bay, and the adjacent Coast, and will likewise enable Vessels to take up a secure anchorage under Point Prim in case of bad weather.  Whereas, if no Light was on that low and ill defined point, I am of the opinion no person would venture to round it in a dark night…”

A perfectly professional opinion, if ever there was one.  And to it, Captain Bayfield adds:

“…But a Light House, to be of any use on Point Prim, must be of large size, with a Light of sufficient power to be clearly seen at the distance of 4 or 5 leagues from the deck of a Vessel.”

And therein lay a problem.  The government had set aside enough money for a small lighthouse when it was thought that it would be placed on Governor’s Island.  But with the prevailing opinion now placing it on Point Prim, a much more substantial structure was required.  And as the House was informed by Henry Vere Huntley, the newly minted Lt. Governor, the resolution passed in 1841 in which the government agreed to provide £110 for the construction of a small lighthouse was no longer a sufficient sum.  As a result, nothing more of the lighthouse was spoken during the remainder of the 1842 sitting, nor was it broached in 1843 and 1844; however, in 1845 it would come roaring back.  In order to know why, we must turn to the seemingly unrelated story of the government’s quest to secure reliable steam communication ‘twixt Prince Edward Island and the mainland.

Wanted: Reliable Communication 

On April 14th, 1830, a motion was made in the House to place the sum of £100 in the hands of John Ready, at that time the Lt. Governor of Prince Edward Island.  The reason?  To promote a proposed system of communication between Halifax and Quebec by a steam-powered vessel, on the condition that the owners of said vessel agree to put in at Charlottetown each time it travelled back and forth.  Although defeated by a vote of 8-5, the motion illustrates the early stirrings of an issue that would prove to be a persistent thorn in the side of government for many years, an issue that would, in part, play a role in pushing the Island into Confederation in 1873: the saga of achieving a constant and reliable communication between here and the mainland (ie. New Brunswick and Nova Scotia) and, ultimately, the rest of the world.

There can be many challenges to living on an island.  Perhaps not as noticeable today given the advent of the Internet and social media, one of the main issues is the sense of isolation that can be experienced by physical detachment from one’s landlocked neighbours.  This was especially true for our early forebears in Prince Edward Island.  Though only separated from the mainland by the relatively narrow Northumberland Strait, it was a time before instant messaging of any kind.  Even the telegraph was yet to be invented.  Snail mail was the order of the day, and it was vexing.

Despite the fact that Prince Edward Island experiences four rather distinct seasons in the course of a year, mail delivery was divided into two seasons: the Summer mails, and the Winter mails.  The system of delivery utilized during the winter months is the one that has become immortalized in Island history.  With the Northumberland Strait plugged with ice, teams of men – and occasionally women – would set out from Cape Traverse for Cape Tormentine with the mails in tow, making use of an ice boat whenever open water was encountered, but for the most part hauling it by hand up and over ice floes.  It was a long, arduous trek on a good day; on days when the weather was even slightly inclement, it could prove deadly, and did on a number of occasions.  There are many stories in circulation of terrible storms, lives lost, and even teams forced into eating dogs when their rations ran dry.  What’s more, if you managed to make it across, you then had to make the trip back.

The delivery of the Summer mails, though a far safer activity, had its own challenges.  For many years, the task was delegated to sailing vessels, which would leave Charlottetown, or other ports, for ports on the mainland with outgoing mail, and return with regional and international news and other freight for the residents of Prince Edward Island, which would then be conveyed via inland routes.  While the system wasn’t always perfect, it was made to work; however, because government was responsible for issuing tenders for mail delivery and paying out of pocket for it, something perfectly reliable was desired in order to justify its investment.  That something was steam power.

A European innovation dating back to the mid-18th century, the idea of propelling a ship with steam was first perfected on smaller vessels designed to travel on rivers and lakes, before the science was successfully adapted to larger craft capable of making a transatlantic crossing in the early years of the 19th century.  Entirely revolutionary and inherently more reliable than propulsion by sail, steam power was the newfangled technology du jour.  Many people wanted a piece of the action, and with a strong connection to the water forged by a soon-to-boom shipbuilding industry, Prince Edward Island was no exception.

As the opening anecdote demonstrates, the desire of the Island to make use of steam-powered vessels can be traced back as early as 1830.  Two years later in 1832, Aretas Young, now the Lt. Governor, brought to the attention of the House the proposal of shipping magnate Samuel Cunard, which he felt ought to be considered as a potential boon to PEI.  A largely self-made man and leading entrepreneur based out of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Cunard was given his start alongside his father in the West Indian and timber trades, the beginning of a stupendous career in which he would amass a veritable fortune.  By the 1820s, he had taken over from his father, and made a move into the mail business both locally and internationally.  Recognizing the advantages of steamships for speedy and reliable transportation of the mails, he would successfully establish a vessel between Halifax and Quebec that connected with English mail packets (the very vessel that Islanders hoped would stop in at Charlottetown), and was a key player in the Quebec and Halifax Steam Navigation Company. 

Cunard’s plan for the Island was to offer the services of a steamboat he intended to purchase, which, for the annual sum of £300 over a five-year period (ie £1500), he agreed to operate between Charlottetown and the mainland:

“The route I should propose for the Boat would be, that she should be at Pictou to receive the Halifax Mail, with which proceed to Charlotte-Town, thence to Miramichi – calling at Bedeque, or any other part of the Island that may be deemed advisable – thence back to Charlotte-Town, and with the Mail to Pictou, which I think would nearly occupy the week.”

The matter was subsequently put before a Committee of the whole House, and a bill engrossed entitled An Act to provide for the conveyance of the Mails between Charlotte-Town and Pictou, by a Steam Vessel.  It was a large step forward for Prince Edward Island – but it wouldn’t be without its tribulations.

While the act was passed, there appeared to be some confusion over whether or not a contract had actually been signed between the government and Cunard.  Early in the 1833 sitting of the House, a message was sent to Lt. Governor Young inquiring into the matter, asking for the contract, if it even existed, to be presented to the House.  When Young responded, he informed the House that no contract had been signed for 1832, and that, while the act had discussed a weekly run to Miramichi, the steamboat’s owners, Messrs. Samuel Cunard & Co., had taken a dislike to the idea (despite Cunard’s original proposal), and instead suggested two runs per week to Pictou.  Forced to hand over £300 for the vessel’s services, by the end of the sitting a final message was sent to Young calling for stricter adherence to the act, and to place priority in securing a steamboat willing to make the Miramichi run; however, failing that any arrangement would be suitable so long as the cost remained at £300 or less.

Throughout the 1833 navigation season, the mails were again contracted to Cunard, and carried by the steamboat Pocahontas.  However, it is revealed in the 1834 sitting of the House that Cunard had been paid the grand sum of £436.10.0 for his services, more than had been budgeted; and he had only run his vessel between Charlottetown and Pictou, despite the Assembly’s wish that Young find someone who would consent to including Miramichi.  Cunard’s influence and prestige may account for Young’s patronage; it may also partly account for the fact that, when the petition of a man named Evan Thomas was presented to the House seeking the mail contract for 1834 and willing to find a suitable steamboat to operate between Charlottetown and Pictou, and Miramichi, it did not receive even a modicum of consideration until the House had nearly adjourned and the navigation season loomed (the fact that Thomas wanted £500 per annum for five years, and an advancement of two years’ services on satisfactory completion of his vessel’s first trip, may account for the rest).  Along with the passing of a bill (An Act to regulate the conveyance of the Mails by a Steam Vessel, and to repeal an Act formerly passed for the purpose) which, while no longer extant, no doubt attempted to remedy recent frustrations over routes and cost, Lt. Governor Young was beseeched by the House to seriously consider Thomas’ proposal.  And as for Samuel Cunard:

The House also beg to submit to your Excellency, that they have not deemed it necessary to provide any sum to defray the amount of the Contract entered into with the Owners of the Pocahontas for the past year, inasmuch as the conditions of the said Contract appear to have been violated in a manner highly insulting to this Colony – The House, therefore, trust, that your Excellency will be pleased to withhold the payment of any sum on account of the said Contract, or take such other proceedings in the premises as your Excellency may deem meet.

Cunard and the Pocahontas, however, would have the last laugh.  While Young had taken the House’s desires into consideration, and managed to negotiate a contract with Thomas dated May 25th, the venture apparently fell through at the last minute.  In a letter Thomas wrote to Young, all is revealed.  It seems that Thomas and his wife were in the process of negotiating a “marriage settlement” (the nature of which is not made clear), and it was his hope that the money he would make carrying the mails could be used to pay her whatever she was owed.  A good idea in theory, but in application, the logistics were against him.  According to his contract, he was to be paid £1000 (two years’ services) upon the arrival of his vessel to the Island; the problem, though, was that he needed that money to sail to Ireland and buy it.  His hope was that his father would provide him with a temporary advance, after which Thomas would use the £1000 from the Island government to pay him back.  And that’s where it went downhill.  When he informed his father of his intention to operate a steamboat between Prince Edward Island and the mainland, the elder Thomas, “being a man of much nautical experience” considered it a pointless venture, “extremely disadvantageous, and attended with responsibility and loss”.  As a result, he refused his son the money required, leaving the younger Thomas without the means to purchase a vessel.  Calling an audible, he quickly hopped a ship for England in an attempt to convince some merchants there to give him one, but to no avail.  With no time left to regroup, he was forced to cancel his contract, hoping against hope that he would not be “pursued in consequence of his unavoidable default”.

So Young reverted to Cunard once more.  And despite a brief outbreak of cholera in Halifax, during which time it was felt best to scale the Pocahontas down to one run per week, Young at least felt the vessel met his standards.  He impressed upon the House, during the 1835 sitting, that Cunard be paid £300 for his services in 1834, and an additional sum of £200 for the 1833 season despite the unwillingness of government to do so.  As Young pointed out, while the House may have felt that Cunard had violated his contract, it had still retained his services, and so it was only fair to pay him.  A resolution was subsequently passed to that effect.

It does not appear that anyone spent much time attempting to locate a steamboat for the 1835 season and so, naturally enough, Cunard was again relied upon to do the job.  No doubt based on their rocky relationship, Cunard was evidently not very confident that the government would pay him for his services, for in the 1836 sitting of the House, a letter written by his attorney “R. Hodgson” (quite possibly Robert Hodgson) prayed that £300 be granted.  And it was – but not before two months had passed.  In the meantime Cunard, clearly harboring no ill-will, decided to make the Island an offer the likes of which it had been attempting to get since 1832.  In a second letter written by Hodgson, Cunard offered to place on the Strait the Cape Breton, capable of operating between Charlottetown and Pictou and yes, even Miramichi, for a period of five years at a rate of £500 per year.  Perhaps he had a change of heart, but a more likely explanation is that Cunard, who had essentially been holding the Island ransom since 1832, was fearful of losing the Island’s business in the event that someone could be found who did not mind steaming to Miramichi.  While already quite wealthy, he was holding the monopoly on the mails, and the businessman in him had no desire to lose it.  In any event, the New Brunswick legislature was willing to pony up funds for the venture if the Island was agreeable, and for his part, Cunard was willing to forgo any cash advance and stick with his offer of £500 per annum.   

When Cunard’s offer was brought up for discussion in the House, it was not accepted outright; however, it does seem to have inspired a resolution, in an attempt to introduce a degree of stability to the matter, wherein the mail contract be given over a certain number of years at a rate of £500 per annum, to be carried out by a steam vessel of no less than seventy horsepower.  After some consideration, a bill was passed to that effect.  Clearly the House did not wish to immediately commit to Cunard if it could find someone else.  Based on past experience, one can hardly find fault.

Throughout the 1837 and 1838 sittings of the House, all was strangely quiet on the topic of steam communication.  It wasn’t until 1839 that the issue resurfaced and we are caught up to speed.  Although not stated, the fact that the resolution of 1836 was passed so late in the sitting left little time for the House to find anyone but Cunard to carry the mails, and so he was the lucky recipient of the multi-year contract (in 1840, it is revealed to have been a five-year deal).  What we do know is that by 1837, the steamboat Cape Breton had taken over from the Pocahontas – but it wasn’t quite living up to expectations.  For reasons not stated, it was not immediately put under steam in 1837, “and for some length of time after the opening of the navigation”, the mails had to be delivered by a sailing vessel “having accommodations for passengers far inferior to that which the inhabitants of this Island are well entitled…”  A similar situation was encountered in 1838, on top of the accusation that the said contract “was several times violated by the Steam Packet having been employed off her station, and for purposes wholly foreign to the services of this Island…”  

It seems Cunard was continuing to try his luck, but he had far larger prizes in his sights that must have been a distraction.  In 1838, he had been approached to help co-found the exclusive Prince Edward Island Joint Stock Company along with his brother Joseph, with the purpose of investing in land.  From the outset, they were the majority shareholders with sixty percent of the shares on 160,000 acres; the following year, the Cunard brothers would buy out their partners and, while they continued to lease the land to tenants, reserved the right to all timber that was fit for shipping, shipbuilding, or exportation.  Following his brother’s bankruptcy, Cunard would take over the entire holding, thus making him the largest proprietor on the Island.  The acquisition was incredibly valuable for a man in his line of work, especially since, at that time, old growth forest would have been fairly plentiful (by 1866, the holdings would swell to over 212,000 acres, nearly a sixth of the entire Island).  At the same time, Britain was looking for interested parties to operate transatlantic steamships that would take over the mails from traditional sailing vessels, an enticing prospect to an enterprising individual like Cunard.  He had recently established steam communication between Pictou and Quebec – imagine being able to tie it in with a transatlantic contract.  The Island’s mail contract suddenly paled in comparison.  

After the close of the 1840 season, Cunard’s five-year contract concluded, leaving the House in a bit of a scramble to secure another vessel.  With Britain looking to streamline mail delivery, the Island now stood a very good chance of being sidelined if it could not find a way to convince Nova Scotia and New Brunswick of the advantages of maintaining their intercourse.  Charles Fitzroy, now the Lt. Governor, was tasked with inquiring into the willingness of those provinces to contribute to the operation of a steamboat of at least eighty horsepower.  In the meantime, steps were taken to ensure that if a steamboat could not be found, sailing ships would be used in its stead.  It certainly wouldn’t ideal, but it would be better than nothing.

When Fitzroy returned to the House, he brought word that Nova Scotia, already covered by the Pictou-Quebec line, had declined to participate in the venture; New Brunswick, on the other hand, was agreeable, and was willing to provide £350 per annum for five years.  It was a start and the House, still convinced that it needed a steamboat, resolved to have Fitzroy search for a suitable vessel, with the incentive of an advancement of two years’ services.  Failing that, he was to inquire into the possibility of having the Island included as a port of call between Pictou and Quebec.  Presumably his search fell through, for in a veritable replay of events nearly ten years previous, Cunard was notified of Fitzroy’s desire to revive the idea of piggy-backing on his Nova Scotia-Quebec line, and having it include stops at Charlottetown.  Unfortunately, Cundard’s answer was a straight-forward and somewhat apologetic “no”, since he felt that his ship was already busy enough without putting in at the Island, not to mention he was also occupied with the £55,000 transatlantic contract he had managed to secure; however, ever the businessman, he once more suggested the possibility, as he did in 1832, of providing the Island with a steamboat that could run between Charlottetown and Pictou for a “small sum”.  When pressed for an estimate for his latest proposition, Cunard responded that he would provide “a good and substantial Steamboat, of not less than 70 horses’ power” for the navigation season, at a steep £1800 per year.  To toss some salt on the wound, the ship would only carry the mails twice per month.  Needless to say, when it was brought up for discussion in the House, Cunard’s “most unreasonable and extravagant demand” was quickly dismissed.

Of note in all of this is a letter, part of a series sent back to Fitzroy in 1841, in which the Captain of Cunard’s steamship Unicorn, last name Douglas, offered his insight on the matter to the Deputy Postmaster General at Quebec, T.A. Stayner.  According to Stayner, Douglas informed him that the argument that Charlottetown lay only a mere 15-20 miles off the route from Pictou to Quebec (around the east coast of Prince Edward Island and into the Gulf of Saint Lawrence) was entirely fallacious, being more in the range of 60 miles.  More pressing, however, was the fact that the coast of the Island leading to Charlottetown was devoid of lights and navigational aids.  Therefore, the Unicorn would only be able to put in at daylight and leave at daylight, resulting in a docking period of at least 12 hours.  His comment on the lack of a lighthouse is an eerie foreshadowing of petition that would be filed four years later.

With Cunard’s offer off the table, 1841 arrived and a concrete service had yet to be established.  When asked by the House where the issue stood, Fitzroy responded by saying that tenders had been issued for a steamboat of at least eighty horsepower that would be able to carry the mails between Charlottetown and Pictou twice a week, calling once a week at Miramichi and putting in at Bedeque, but that offers had yet to be received.   He did point out, however, that Cunard had again approached him, and was willing to offer up the Pocahontas  to ply the waters between Charlottetown and Pictou only, two or three times per week.  In Fitzroy’s opinion, it was worth consideration given the importance of achieving a constant communication.  Shortly after, a petition out of Georgetown beseeched the House to accept Cunard’s offer of the Pocahontas, as he was also willing to operate it once per week between Pictou and Georgetown, thus cutting them in on the action.

When the matter was finally brought up in the House, Cunard’s offer was ignored, and instead two resolutions were tabled.  The first placed a sum no greater than £550 at the disposal of the government in order to contract a suitable steam vessel to carry the mails for the 1841 season, and was passed immediately.  The second resolution authorized the Lt. Governor to continue the search for a vessel that would agree to the routes proposed, namely: twice per week between Charlottetown and Pictou, and once per week between Pictou and Georgetown in the same week, and once between Pictou and Miramichi, stopping in at Charlottetown, the following week, alternating in this manner throughout the season.  After a smattering of debate and attempted amendments, the second resolution was likewise passed.

When Fitzroy returned to the House with a response, he carried with him another offer by Cunard, represented by agent James Primrose, which agreed to run the Pocahontas to Miramichi; however, because Cunard did not feel it was possessed of the appropriate accommodations and freight capacity for that voyage, he was only willing to consent to making the run two or three times during the course of the season as opposed to every second week.  On April 3rd, it was agreed to by the House to permit Fitzroy to accept the services of the best available steamboat and that, if none could be found by the 21st, he was permitted to ignore the stipulation that such a vessel make the Miramichi run, so long as it agree to the other routes for a sum of £350.  The address was not formalized until April 20th, leaving the Lt. Governor no time for action.  Evidently designed to grant the contract to the Pocahontas, the only vessel that had shown an interest in the job, the plan backfired the following week when Fitzroy returned with another offer from Cunard.  Whereas before he had been willing to make the odd run to Miramichi, and a bi-weekly trip between Georgetown and Pictou, he was now proposing simply two trips per week between Charlottetown and Pictou for £400.  With the summer mail season fast approaching, Cunard was no doubt gambling on the desperation of the House and hoping to secure a contract for less work and more money; but the House would have none of it, and without any debate whatsoever, the offer was declined.  When the 28th dawned, however, cooler heads appear to have prevailed, for the resolution which declined the latest offer of the Pocahontas was rescinded by a vote of 11-7, and a motion agreed to which authorized Fitzroy to begrudgingly hand over “the very high sum which the owners of that Boat demand from this Colony alone for her services”.  Yet while Cunard and the Pocahontas had won the rights to the 1841 season, a turning of the tides was in the offing for 1842, one that would ultimately prove quite fortuitous for Point Prim.

Full Steam Ahead:  The Rise of the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company

If the years spanning 1832 to 1842 – especially the debacle of 1841 – had taught the Government of Prince Edward Island anything, it was that more control of the mail service was in order.  It had overspent on the Pocahontas in 1841, and never quite felt that it had received full value for any of its contracts during the Cunard years.  And so, true to government fashion, it decided to take matters into its own hands to ensure it wasn’t squandering money.  If a steam- boat couldn’t be found that would comply with its conditions and operate for the sum it was offered, then there was little recourse other than owning its own vessel.  Obviously it meant spending more in the short term, but if such a move offered a consistent and reliable means of mail delivery, then it was worth it in the long run.  At least that was the hope, anyway. 

It was later in the 1842 sitting when the issue of steam communication was inevitably broached.  On March 8th, a Committee of the whole House was formed to once again attempt for a resolution of the perennial thorn in government’s side.  But the game plan had changed considerably:

Resolved, That it is the opinion of this Committee, that it be recommended to the House, when in Supply, that the Sum of Two thousand Pounds, currency, be granted, and placed at the disposal of the Lieutenant Governor, for the purchase of One hundred Shares in the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company, for the Government of this Island – provided the said Company will engage to run their Boat once a week, from Pictou and Charlottetown to Miramichi, touching at Bedeque once a fortnight on her way to and from the latter place, and calling at Georgetown once a fortnight.

£2000?  The times had certainly changed from the days when anything more than £300 had been seen as extravagant.  Even more noteworthy is the fact that, when the resolution was put up for discussion, all but one of the House members was in favor in a landslide vote of 16-1.  The next day, the resolution was reconsidered, with only a slight change in those for and those against.  After a flurry of debate, during which time one member raised concern over the fact that the House was playing fast and loose by handing over money to a “projected” company (it had yet to be officially formed), it was agreed to increase the number of shares from one hundred to one hundred fifty.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, as the saying goes.

By the end of March, a bill entitled An Act for the Incorporation of the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company had been engrossed and submitted to the Legislative Council for its approval.  In the meantime, as a provisional measure in the event that the bill, and thus the company, fell through, the House passed two additional resolutions.  The first authorized the sum of £250 (and no more) to be earmarked for contracting two sailing vessels to carry the mails between the Island and Pictou during the 1842 season, or until the Steam Navigation Company managed to acquire a suitable steamboat.  The second resolution provided £30 to encourage a packet (mail ship) to operate between Bedeque and Shediac, and an additional £50 for one that could operate between Georgetown and Pictou (in the absence of a steam vessel for 1842).  Obviously it was better to be safe than sorry, but it needn’t have been a concern.  Not two weeks later, the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company was officially sanctioned.

Despite the fact that the trials and tribulations of the Island government with respect to attaining reliable communication with the mainland ought to have contributed to a hesitation on its part, the speed and willingness with which it agreed to invest in a company before it had even been vetted is hardly surprising.  Its investment would get it exactly what it wanted, namely, a steam vessel that would go where and when it was told.  Why?  Simply put, the government’s 150 shares made it by far the largest single shareholder in the company.  Yet it was a mutual arrangement, for in order to get the enterprise up and running, the company needed government’s hefty investment.  It was the epitome of the win-win scenario.

So who was behind the Steam Navigation Company?  Even a cursory glance at the shareholder list and it becomes obvious: the company was a veritable who’s who of the prominent and powerful in Prince Edward Island.  In total, approximately 420 shares were sold.  150 went to the government, while the remainder were largely bought up by 113 individuals from the Charlottetown, Georgetown, and Bedeque areas, along with a smattering of other locales; that said, it was a Charlottetown-centric enterprise, pure and simple.  Charlottetown shareholders accounted for 46% of the representation, but controlled 64% of the shares, not to mention the matter of government’s involvement, also based out of the Island capital.  The names include prominent merchants, shipbuilders, politicians, barristers, and land agents, in essence the creme de la creme of the mid-19th century elite in Prince Edward Island.  It featured, among others, men such as Joseph Pope (soon-to-be speaker of the House), James Yeo (considered to be the greatest of the Island’s shipbuilders), Charles Worrell (owner of one of the largest private estates) and William Douse (politician and land agent for the estate of the Earl of Selkirk).  Other shareholders, namely George Coles, Edward Palmer, and Thomas Heath Haviland, Jr., would go on to play very prominent roles in Island politics and be named delegates to the Charlottetown and Quebec Conferences in 1864, and would ultimately become immortalized as Fathers of Confederation.

It’s difficult to pin down when exactly the idea for the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company came to be; however, it is likely that it was sometime between the end of the 1841 season, and the early months of 1842.  What we do know is that, once the company was incorporated, its directors (James Peake, Thomas Heath Haviland, Sr., William Swabey, Samuel Nelson, Charles Hensley, Francis Longworth, and Andrew Duncan, all very prominent individuals in Island mercantile and political circles) were successful in acquiring a suitable steam vessel (the St. George) that met government’s stringent standards.  But from the very beginning, it would seem the company was plagued by operational difficulties.

Early in 1843, when the company’s Chairman, Charles Hensley, submitted a copy of the annual report for 1842, he wrote to inform the house that:

“…notwithstanding [the company’s] utmost desire to fulfil the duties prescribed by the Act of Incorporation, [the company has] found it impracticable to do so to the full extent.  [The company] therefore beg respectfully to request, that your Honorable House will be pleased to review that Act, for the purpose of making such alterations and amendments as in its wisdom it may deem proper.”

It is unfortunate that this report, and the Act of Incorporation, do not appear to have survived to the present, leaving us without a firm understanding of the company’s grievances; however, a petition presented in the House the next day may shed some light on one of them.  Signed by a number of the company’s shareholders living in the area of Georgetown, it complained that the St. George had been making irregular trips to their port during the 1842 season, and that steps ought to be taken to ensure the directors complied with the full extent of the act.  When a five-member committee tasked with investigating the matter, three of whom were shareholders themselves, returned to the House with a bill of amendment, the idea of purchasing a second steam vessel was put forward and passed by a vote of 14-6; however, since only newspaper advertisements for the St. George exist for 1843, it appears that the company was unable to procure a second steamboat.

By the time of the Steam Navigation Company’s annual shareholder meeting in 1844, its prospects had greatly deteriorated.  In a very detailed report written by Hensley, we learn that it was attempted to expand the operations of the company by securing a financial contribution from the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Treasury in order to provide for communication with Newfoundland and Halifax.  It was rejected.  Memorials had also been sent out to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia to solicit “remuneration” for the services provided by the St. George as a steadfast communication link between the Maritime provinces, and hopes were high that both colonies would respond favorably.  But while Hensley was hopeful, he was rather blunt on the fact that operating and maintaining the St. George as both a mail and a passenger vessel was simply not a profitable venture for the shareholders, producing “only loss and anxiety”.  Unless government was willing to take the St. George under its wing and provide for its annual upkeep so that the company could funnel funds elsewhere, then Hensley felt it best to have the directors authorized to pursue the sale of their vessel if the right opportunity presented itself.

When the 1845 season dawned, the St. George was once more plying the Strait, and the Steam Navigation Company’s directors, at least, were no doubt aware that it would be the vessel’s last; however, that point had not yet been reached, and they were determined to use their asset while they still had it.

A Lighthouse is Born

When it happened, it happened quickly, with hardly any gestation period.  On March 12th, 1845, a petition was delivered to the House by Secretary T. H. Haviland by the command of Lt. Governor Huntley.  Dated August 23rd, 1844, and addressed to Huntley, it bore Haviland’s own signature, and those of the other six directors of the Steam Navigation Company:  Charles Hensley, James Peake, Andrew Duncan, Samuel Nelson, William Swabey, and Francis Longworth.  The petition wasted no time in making its point:

…The Memorialists deem it to be their duty to represent to your Excellency, the great risque [sic] the St. George Steamship (in constant operation upon the coasts of this Island) is subject to, by reason of the total absence of any lights by which to regulate the approach of that vessel to these shores during the night, or to guide her in navigating the entrance into the Harbour of Charlottetown at that season.

It has been the endeavour of the memorialists so to rule the voyages of the St. George, as to exempt her as much as possible from the risque [sic] and peril which necessarily attend night operations upon a coast so unprovided with the necessary means for enabling vessels to be navigated with safety in dark and tempestuous weather; but no management, however careful, can prevent her from being occasionally exposed to it, by reason of the sudden changes which so frequently occur toward the fall of the year.

Under these circumstances, the Memorialists beg humbly to solicit that your Excellency will be pleased to take this Memorial into consideration, and cause such necessary steps to be taken for the erection of Light Houses in suitable positions, as may for the future secure their vessel, and all other ships visiting these shores, from the imminent hazard they at present incur from their absence.

This petition was accompanied by another, also dated August 23rd.  Although its signatures were not published in the 1845 Assembly journal, and the original document does not appear to be extant, we know them to be “Merchants, Ship Owners and others”, and that they were no doubt shareholders in the Steam Navigation Company.  Likewise calling for the erection of a lighthouse “in some eligible situation contiguous to the Harbour of Charlottetown”, they felt it their right as long-time payees of the Island’s light duty, the revenue of which was supposed to have been put towards such a structure.  Furthermore, the fact that the Island was now in steady communication with New Brunswick and Nova Scotia meant that it was a necessity to have something which provided more security to “lives and property”.

The “eligible situation” was Point Prim, driven home in a third and final document submitted alongside the petitions.  Despite the fact that it bears no date, it was undoubtedly written during the time of the petitions in 1844.  Written to, and for, Lt. Governor Huntley, it was a report compiled by four commissioners he had appointed to “enquire into the probable expence [sic] of erecting a suitable Light House upon Point Prim”.  These commissioners were none other than four of the six directors of the Steam Navigation Company:  Charles Hensley, James Peake, Andrew Duncan, and Francis Longworth.  They appear to have spent considerable time in researching cost estimates for materials and supplies, during which they were assisted by a couple of prominent individuals.   The first was the now all-too-familiar Samuel Cunard, this time in his capacity as a lighthouse commissioner for Nova Scotia, who provided information on the expenses of lighthouses in Shelburne and Sambro; the second was architect Isaac Smith, the man behind the construction of Government House (Fanningbank) and the soon-to-be-completed Colonial Building (Province House), whom they requested to draw up plans for a light on Point Prim.  While the total cost came in at an estimated £464.9.3, the commissioners were able to provide one assurance:  William Douse, politician and land agent for the 6th Earl of Selkirk (and therefore responsible for managing the large estate purchased by the famed 5th Earl of Selkirk in 1803), was promising land on Point Prim free of any charge to the government.  It was a generous incentive.

Following the presentation of these documents in the House, no time was wasted in their consideration.  The next day, two resolutions were tabled.  The first called for the House to provide the funds for a lighthouse on Point Prim, while the second put forward the idea of increasing the rate of the light duty so as to enable its future upkeep and maintenance.  Two weeks later, at the end of March, a committee was formed to venture across the ice to Point Prim in order to select the perfect site for construction.  The April 5th edition of The Islander provided an account of the momentous event:

On Monday last, a Committee appointed by the House of Assembly, consisting of the Hon. Joseph Pope, Speaker, F(rancis) Longworth, W(illiam) Douse, G(eorge) Coles, A(lexander) MacLean, and D. Montgomery, Esqrs., accompanied by the Hon. T. H. Haviland, W. Cundall, Esq., High Sheriff, L.W. Gall, Esq., Land Surveyor, and J.D. Macdonell, W. Bremner, George Birnie, J. Longworth, F. Kempster, J. Davis, jun., R. Finlayson, T. Pethick, J. Davis, sen., M. Dogherty, and Isaac Smith, Esqrs., and the two Masters Douse, proceeded, in ten sleighs, to Point Prim, for the purpose of selecting a site for the intended Light House.  The party left Queen’s Wharf about ten, and after crossing the Portage to Belle Vue, drove out on the ice in a direct line about thirteen miles to Point Prim.  On landing, a site was chosen for the Building, which commands a beautiful view of some thirty miles on the Straits of Northumberland, the different points at that distance being easily distinguished.  The land was surveyed by Mr. Gall, and the clearing of the Woods for the building disposed of to persons from the neighbouring settlements.  The party partook of a lunch, and returned the sixteen miles in one hour and twenty minutes, thus showing the facility with which travelling can be performed on good ice in the Winter.  We may observe that the site for the building was given by the Right Hon. the Earl of Selkirk through his Land Agent, Wm Douse, Esq., and will add much to the improvement, as well as to the importance of that part of His Lordship’s property.  The House of Assembly have provided a Grant of money for its erection, and the work will be commenced forthwith.

Of note is that fact that, of the formal committee appointed by the House, five of the six individuals named (Pope, Longworth, Coles, Douse, and MacLean) were all members of the House, and shareholders in the Steam Navigation Company; what’s more, among the additional sixteen who accompanied them can be counted a further eight company shareholders.  With a representation of more than half, the company had managed to involve itself quite nicely in the process.

By early April, £500 had been allocated to construct the lighthouse of stone and brick according to Isaac Smith’s design.  This was followed by a series of weekly newspaper advertisements calling for tenders to carry out Smith’s plans, which were held in the office of T. H. Haviland.  When the offer for tenders ended, the successful contractor was Richard Walsh of Charlottetown.  While we don’t know when exactly construction began, it is possible that it was sometime after June 6th, when a notice was placed in The Islander calling for the return of the lighthouse design for Point Prim that someone had, whether knowingly or unknowingly, removed from the House of Assembly where it had been submitted.  In any event, however, the lighthouse would have been built over the course of the summer and fall of 1845, for a “Notice to Mariners” in the December 16th edition of The Islander informed that:

The new LIGHT HOUSE, on POINT PRIM, was lighted for the first time, on Thursday Evening, the Fourth inst. (ie, December 4th), and will continue to be lighted as long as the navigation remains open.

At long last, Prince Edward Island had a lighthouse to call its own.

Curtain Call

It must have been bittersweet for the directors and shareholders of the Steam Navigation Company.  While the lighthouse on Point Prim rose ever higher during the summer of 1845, their company continued to founder.  On March 28th, Chairman Hensley had written to the House to inform them that:

“…as it appears from the Report and from the statement of accounts laid before this meeting (ie., the annual shareholders meeting)… the present traffic between the Ports of Miramichi, Pictou, and Charlottetown, is barely sufficient to bear the expence [sic] of maintaining the St. George upon the station, and is altogether unproductive of profit to the Shareholders…”

Despite the fact that the company had successfully managed to scoop up the yearly government tender to convey the mails, this contract was being negated by the second of the St. George’s functions, which was to provide a passenger service, a service that just hadn’t been lucrative.  Therefore, it was resolved to negotiate the steamboat’s sale “upon equitable terms”.  It was also resolved to seek the approval of the House to permit the sale of the government’s shares in the company “at such reasonable price as, upon due consideration of all the circumstances, they, in conjunction with the other Directors, shall deem it advisable to accept”.  While the government’s original investment had been a generous one, it was in essence the only investment it made in the company, and had been spent on acquiring the St. George; however, if those shares, which had since increased to 198 after numerous Georgetown shareholders had decided to transfer their shares to the government, could be freed up and sold, it could assist the company in staying afloat and buy it time to sort out its future.

On April 12th, the committee appointed to consider the matter (composed, fittingly enough, of three Assembly members who also happened to be company shareholders) returned to the House with a bill that authorized the sale of the government’s shares in the St. George.  It was passed without debate.  Shortly after, a joint committee of the House and Legislative Council agreed to prepare an address to the Imperial Government seeking aid in maintaining steam conveyance of the mails; however, the 1845 sitting closed without a response.

With time and money running out, welcome news was printed in The Islander of April 19th.  The New Brunswick legislature had voted to provide the Steam Navigation Company with £200 for the services of the St. George in 1844, and would pay a similar amount should communication between Charlottetown and Miramichi be maintained; furthermore, their counterparts in Nova Scotia had decided to chip in to the tune of £340 provided the company continued its runs between Pictou and the Island, as well as Cape Breton.  But it was only a temporary reprieve.  By October, the directors had found a buyer for the St. George in Quebec, where she would be put into service as a steam tug.

On the penultimate day of October 1845, the St. George set sail from Pownal Street Wharf at 3 PM, making her way out of Charlottetown Harbour for the last time.  In her stead, John Anderson, master of the schooner Caledonia, was hired to carry the mails for what remained of the season.  It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it would give the Steam Navigation Company the chance to regroup and find another steamboat.  That task fell to the former Captain of the St. George, a man by the name of Mathewson, who was sent back to England with orders to procure a vessel of between sixty and eighty horsepower and capable of steaming at a rate of twelve knots per hour.

The story is resumed in February 1846 with the publishing of the Steam Navigation Company’s annual report for the previous year, and its hopes for the ensuing season.  In his report, Charles Hensley reveals that 1845 had taken a toll on the St. George, and the frequency and nature of the repairs that had to be made had come at great expense to the company.  Her engines and boilers required refitting, among other things, repairs which the company could not afford, and so it was felt that her sale was necessitated; however, given the steamboat’s deteriorated condition, the company had not been able to sell it for its full value, but had done so anyway at the risk of not finding another buyer who would pay full price.  Some money was better than no money at all.

With the money from the sale of the St. George, Captain Mathewson had been dispatched to England with instructions to either locate an engine of appropriate horsepower that could be shipped back to the Island and placed in a vessel built locally, or an entire ship of sound construction and similar power.  While the directors felt confident that Mathewson would succeed in procuring a ship, measures had been taken in the event he did not, and timber had been found to be used in the building of a vessel here at no cost to the company (there were enough shipbuilders among them who had the means to front the capital).  With memorials having been sent to New Brunswick and Nova Scotia seeking remunerations for the 1845 season, and feeling confident that a new vessel would place the company back on its feet, Hensley finished his report by stating that the anticipated profits would be used to make returns to the company’s private shareholders and therefore justify their investments.  Shortly thereafter, The Islander published a rumor that the Steam Navigation Company’s memorial to Nova Scotia had been received favorably, and that the legislature there was poised to grant the company £250 annually for three years, along with a sum in the range of £300 to £400 for the company’s services the past two years; that said, the deal appears to have fallen through, as no further mention was made.  

Between the Steam Navigation Company’s annual report, and the end of March 1846, its hope that Captain Mathewson would succeed in finding a new vessel, or at the very least a suitable engine, did not bear fruit, for on March 28th, a government ad for tenders for “…a good and sufficient Steamboat, of not less than 50 horses power” for the fast-approaching season was placed in The Islander.  That Mathewson’s search would fall through was hinted at in two letters one of the company’s directors, James Peake, wrote to acquaintances Thomas Bolton and William Stevenson.  The first, dated March 9th, 1846, is in response to a letter from Bolton of February 23rd.  Peake writes that:

“The Iron Boat you mention must be a very great bargain and would I have no doubt just have suited our [Steam Navigation Company’s] purpose, as we have been looking out for one for some time – but I fear shall not be as fortunate in finding one to our [illegible] as you have.”

It would seem that Mathewson and the company had just narrowly missed the boat, so to speak.  Three weeks later, Peake opened up in a letter penned to Stevenson:

“I received your esteemed favour of the 9 inst. in due course and note its contents – I am sorry to find you here disposed of your interest in the Poccohontas [sic] as I was in hopes we should have had her services through the summer months – whereas we shall now be dependent on the uncertainty of a sailing vessel for our mails – and I the more reject it as Capt. Matthewson has not yet succeeded in purchasing a steamer, and will in all probability return to the Island without doing so.”

In an odd twist of tragic irony, James Peake at least was hopeful that the Pocahontas could be coaxed into carrying the mails, but it was not to be.  The ship that had caused so much grief for the government was unwilling to carry the mails when the government actually had need of it.

In a later letter to Bolton, dated May 4th, it had become a lost cause for Peake, Mathewson, and the Steam Navigation Company:

“I notice your disappointment in reference to the Steam Boat you expected to purchase and am sorry to say am quite competent to sympathize with you having as you know been entirely defeated in all our endeavours to procure a boat to carry the mails and passengers between this and Pictou and Miramichi, and shall I fear be at the mercy of the winds at least for the present season.”

Peake’s fear of being at the mercy of the wind was borne out.  With no tenders having been received, the government turned once again to John Anderson of the Caledonia to take care of the mail and passenger service between Charlottetown and Pictou for the 1846 season, while Charles MacQuarrie agreed to operate his schooner, Providence, independently and provide service between Charlottetown and Miramichi.  It was a patchwork solution, but there was little other recourse by this point.

While we don’t know about MacQuarrie, Anderson at least performed his duty as best he could; but now that the Island had been spoiled with steam communication, sail just didn’t pass muster anymore.  When the Caledonia was late in arriving to the Island with the mails in mid July owing to a lack of wind, The Islander, forced to go to print without the news from outside Prince Edward Island, pointed out that:

Notwithstanding that the Packet has been very regular this season, for a sailing vessel, we feel convinced the public generally, must feel the very great inconvenience we labour under for the want of a Steamer, as well for the accommodation of the travelling community, as for the certain speedy transit of the Mails.  We sincerely hope that another season will not pass away without either the Steam Navigation Company, or some individual, placing a Boat on the Station, to take the place of the St. George. 

This dissatisfaction was echoed in October.  With the Caledonia again delayed because of unfavourable sailing conditions, The Islander couldn’t help but note that:

Charlottetown, in point of accommodation for passengers and the mails between this port and the neighbouring Province, has retrograded at least fifteen years this summer.  How long is this state of things to last?…Some of our leading characters and monied men have recently had an opportunity of experiencing the inconvenience arising from the knocking about in the gulf, in a sailing vessel, in the fall of the year, with contrary winds, and we earnestly hope it may be the means of stimulating them to exertion in the procuring of another Steamboat.  We have heard that the Directors of the Steamboat Company [Steam Navigation Company] here are about contracting for an Iron Boat, of about 60 horses power, to be built either in England or Scotland during the ensuing winter.  We hope the rumor may not be without foundation.

It wasn’t.  At the next annual shareholders meeting in February 1847, Hensley revealed that lines of communication had been laid down in Quebec, New Brunswick, England, and Scotland in an effort to find a suitable steamboat; however, owing to the company’s limited funds, and a rise in the price of machinery, success was not to be had.  Sticking with England, a resolution was passed which authorized acquaintances in that country to find a boat of at least fifty horsepower for £4500, with a ceiling of an additional few hundred pounds if necessary.  This avenue likewise fell through.

No doubt feeling the weight of the company’s shareholders, and the Island in general, on their shoulders, it was insult to injury for the Steam Navigation Company directors when, in the early days of June 1847, the brand new iron steamboat Conqueror put in at Charlottetown, having scooped the mail contract for the season.  Described as “somewhat deficient in accommodation”, what the Conqueror lacked in creature comforts it more than made up for with its speed.  Possessed of twin forty horsepower engines, it certainly lived up to its name, easily allowing its owners, W.H. and R.L. Scovil of New Brunswick, the luxury of lording it over the hapless Steam Navigation Company.

The arrival of the Conqueror would ultimately prove to be the undoing of the Steam Navigation Company.  By the end of July, its directors called a general meeting for the company shareholders, during which Hensley confessed that it had not been possible to find a vessel matching the criteria the directors had had in mind.  Despite the fact that they had also been aware of the Conqueror’s intent to encroach on their territory, it was not seen as great cause for concern, even in the face of news that the Scovils were investing in upgrading the Conqueror’s accommodations; in fact, the directors were in hopes that the venture would prove a success – after all, the Island would be with steam communication once again, and if the company could find a way to float a boat for 1848, there was a very good chance it could regain control of the mail contract.  Based on this, it would be rash to dissolve the company, despite its monetary woes.

But there was the other side to consider.  What if the company’s shareholders should become satisfied with what the Conqueror had to offer, and no longer see any reason to continue placing their money at risk?  It was a possibility too real to ignore, and so the directors concluded that they ought to play it safe, announcing that any and all shareholders who wished to redeem their shares could do so for full value, at £6.19.0 per share.  Those shareholders who desired to retain possession of their investment would be so permitted, with the understanding that they may be called upon in the future should the company become active once again. 

Just like that, the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company, once a formidable organization, had reached the end of the line.  In a report submitted to the House in 1848, written by commissioners who had been tasked with managing the government’s shares, we learn that the majority of the shareholders had taken advantage of cashing in on their investment, leaving the company “virtually dissolved” – but not gone entirely.  As the company’s shareholder account book illustrates, one of the shares was traded between shareholders in 1864, nearly twenty years later.

It had been an interesting set of years for Prince Edward Island between 1832 and 1845; however, an event even more momentous than the Island’s first lighthouse, and more controversial than the issue of steam communication, was lurking in the not-too-distant future, one that would see the return of a few familiar faces, and the beginning of a nation stretching from sea to shining sea.

 

Conference Connections

Prelude

Just outside the doors of the Legislative Council Chamber in historic Province House is mounted a bronze plaque.  Placed there in 1914, it contains the following inscription:

“Unity is strength/ In the hearts and minds of the delegates who assembled in this room on September 1, 1864, was born the Dominion of Canada./ Providence being their guide, they builded better than they knew./ This tablet erected on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the event.”

Commemorating the Charlottetown Conference of 1864, the words hint at the harmonious gathering of a group of men from separate colonies within British North America who readily agreed to convene in the capital city of Prince Edward Island to discuss the concept of forming a union – or as it was referred to then, and now, a confederation; however, the road was anything but.  And unbeknownst to three individuals who, to varying degrees, had given birth to the Point Prim Lighthouse, they would find themselves smack-dab in the middle of fathering the new nation of Canada.

Whereas “lighthouse” and “steam communication”, among others, proved to be buzz words in Prince Edward Island time and again throughout the 1820s and into the mid-19th century, in the summer of 1864 they would be replaced by the likes of “union” and “confederation”.  While the latter two had occasionally crept into the lexicon of Islanders beginning in the 1850s, they were largely ignored, and seen as fanciful words coming from mainland British North America.  The first serious discussion of either one of the words occurred in the 1859 sitting of the legislature, when the Island was asked by neighbouring Nova Scotia and New Brunswick to consider the idea of a Maritime Union of the three colonies.  After only a smattering of debate on the matter, the idea of a political and economic relationship was voted down.  Following this, the Island’s Assembly likewise nixed the early stirrings of a notion to form such a relationship between all of the colonies in British North America, as well as a second attempt at a legislative union of just the Maritime provinces.  While everyone outside of the Island appeared to be taken up by the idea of consolidation and the pooling together of resources, the matter was continually evaded here in favor of maintaining the status quo.  Why?

An examination of the issue indicates that Prince Edward Island had three main reasons why it was against the idea of union at both the regional and national levels.  The first is that the Island suffered from a bad case of what Bolger describes as “provincialism and insularity”.  Given that Islanders were always guaranteed to be cut off from the mainland anywhere from four to five months out of every year when the Northumberland Strait became plugged with ice, they become very self-absorbed, to the point that they only really cared about the happenings within their own colony.  But it wasn’t snobbery; rather, Islanders had simply grown used to fending for themselves.  Therefore, the idea of joining forces with other provinces seemed to them an unnecessary chore that was bound to more of a hindrance than anything else.

Politics was another factor at play.  Since 1769, Prince Edward Island had enjoyed a certain degree of independence when it achieved colony status following its separation from Nova Scotia.  Although still under the wing of the Crown, an even greater victory was won when, in 1851, the Island was granted Responsible Government, thus giving it greater control of its destiny.  All of this, however, would be severely jeopardized with any kind of union, whether regional or national.  As the smallest player at the table, both in term of size and population, Islanders were without doubt that they would be forced to give up all of the independence they had won, and find themselves in a similar situation to that of pre-1769, when the Island’s affairs were governed by Nova Scotia.  With independence in hand, Islanders were not about to let it go.

Finally, economics must also be considered.  After years of fending for itself, the Island had become quite self-sufficient.  It was capable of producing what it needed, and had even managed to become rather chummy with the eastern seaboard of the United States, with whom it developed a profitable trade, secured by the negotiating of the Reciprocity Treaty of 1854.  The danger of joining a union of other colonies, more so at a national level, lay in the fact that it would lose this relationship, and instead find itself attempting to find a market for its goods on this side of the border, for which there was none (other locales were capable of producing all that the Island had to offer).  And while this would be a blow, there was also the issue of taxes to consider.  Being a part of a formal union would mean a taxation scheme to support it, something that Islanders certainly felt they could do without.

All in all then, Prince Edward Island had its reasons for avoiding unions of any kind.  In the end, Islanders simply desired to be left to their own devices.  Things were going great, so why meddle with success?  Time, though, can be a fickle mistress, and as 1864 approached, the Island’s views on the notion of union were slowly beginning to change.

It must here be pointed out that Islanders were only ever opposed to the idea of forming a larger union based on principle, and it had not gone unnoticed that a union of some sort might result in certain fringe benefits.  These were, namely:  the end of the land tenure system that had plagued the Island from the day it was carved up and raffled off to upper class individuals, the majority of whom would never be anything more than absentee landlords, and which would result in years of tensions as tenants sought to have their land free and clear and to do away with the idea of quit rents; also, a union might put an end to religious problems the Island had been experiencing, in which Protestants and Catholics had become very polarized, especially after Catholics were given the vote in 1830 and religion found its way into politics.  But when weighed against the reasons for avoiding a union, they were not enough to tip the scales.

By 1863, however, the Island legislature had resolved to consent to union in general, but did not go so far as to approve of either a federal or maritime relationship in particular.  The logic here was that, by retaining a modicum of elusiveness, the Island would have to be called upon to be present in any future discussions on the matter and thus would be able to voice its opinion, despite the fact that it had no intention of entering into a union of any kind.  It was simply a way of staying in the loop.  But it was a move that would come back to bite them.

When the legislative sittings of 1864 dawned, each of the three Maritime provinces discussed the idea of their uniting.  While both Nova Scotia and New Brunswick were quite keen on the idea, Prince Edward Island balked once again, to no one’s surprise; however, when its counterparts called for a conference in order to hash out the details of a union, the Island reluctantly agreed to send delegates in light of the resolution of 1863.  Shortly after, in June, the Government of Canada, a coalition uniting the former colonies of Upper Canada (Ontario) and Lower Canada (Quebec), caught wind of the proposed Maritime gathering and sought permission to send its own delegates merely to observe the proceedings.  The timing, however, couldn’t have been better, as it had recently grown quite interested in the idea of forming a federal union of all of British North America.  Among other factors driving this interest was the fact that the United States, currently in the throes of a brutal civil war, had amassed the largest army in the West.  There was really nothing stopping it from turning north and invading British territory, which could be easily had with the provinces operating independently, and especially given the close ties the Maritimes had developed with that country.  Additionally, despite the fact that Upper and Lower Canada were now united in one province, politics had been split between Tory and Grit, Protestant and Catholic, and the situation was a veritable stalemate.  A federal union would result in a need to redraw political maps, and with any luck the impasse would disappear.  The key was getting all of the colonies together, and a conference on Maritime Union would be the perfect opportunity to pitch the idea of Confederation.

By July, the location and date of the conference remained undetermined.  Given Prince Edward Island’s history of resistance to any notion of union, it was decided that the safest bet would be to allow Charlottetown to host the gathering, since this seemed the best way to ensure that the Island would actually send delegates – after all, it couldn’t very well cater to a conference without being present in some capacity!  The history-making event was slated for September 1, and five delegates were nominated to represent the Island’s interests.  From the Tories, currently the governing party:  John Hamilton Gray, Premier, Edward Palmer, and William Henry Pope (son of former Steam Navigation Company director Joseph Pope); the Opposition sent its leader, George Coles, and the up-and-coming Andrew Archibald Macdonald, the youngest of any of the delegates at age thirty-five. (Following the conference in Charlottetown, Thomas Heath Haviland, Jr., and Edward Whelan would likewise be nominated as delegates at the second gathering in Quebec, thus rounding out the Island’s seven Fathers of Confederation.)  Just like that, Coles and Palmer, and later Haviland Jr., found themselves grouped together once again, in an echo of the Point Prim Lighthouse campaign of 1845. 

George Coles

Of Prince Edward Island’s seven Fathers of Confederation, George Coles is perhaps the most well-known of the group.  Born in Charlottetown on September 20th, 1810, he came from humble circumstances, but would eventually build a reputation as a successful businessman.  He made his start as a brewer and distiller in the Island capital, and in 1842 found his way into politics as the elected representative for Third Queen’s.  He quickly became a key player in Island affairs and, along with Edward Whelan, co-founded the present-day Liberal party.  By 1851, he became the first Premier of the Island, a post he would hold, with only a brief interruption in 1854, until 1859, and then again from 1867-1868.  During his first tenure as Premier, Coles was responsible for leading the way in achieving Responsible Government, the passing of the Free Education Act, and universal suffrage, and it was his staunch opposition to Confederation, conceived in Charlottetown but borne out in full at Quebec, that largely kept the Island from joining Canada in 1867.  Considered the greatest reformer in the history of Prince Edward Island, he died at his farm on the site of present-day Stone Park Junior High School in 1875, having fallen into insanity.

Edward Palmer

Of nearly equal fame in Island politics to that of George Coles, Edward Palmer was born, fittingly enough, precisely fifty-five years before the Charlottetown Conference on September 1st, 1809.  He began his professional life as a lawyer, and was called to the Prince Edward Island bar in 1830.  It did not take him long to find his way into politics, and by 1835 he had been elected to represent Charlottetown and Royalty in the Assembly, which he would continue to do until 1860.  A Conservative, in 1860 he was named to the Legislative Council, where he remained until 1873.  During his political career, he held such highly sought posts as Attorney General (1854), President of the Council (1859), Premier and Solicitor-General (1859-1863), and Attorney General again from 1863-1867, and 1872-1873.  After practicing politics and law for over fifty years, he finished his career as Chief Justice of the Island’s Surpreme Court, a position he would hold until his death in 1889.

Thomas Heath Haviland, Jr.

Unfortunately, time has not been kind to the Haviland name, and one of its most famous and distinguished members, Thomas Heath Haviland, Jr., has fallen into relative obscurity.  Son of Thomas Heath Haviland, Sr., famous in his own right as Provincial Secretary from 1840-1851 and Charlottetown’s second Mayor (1857-1867), as well as a director of the Steam Navigation Company, the junior Haviland was born in 1822, and followed a very similar career path to that of his father.  After studying law in Europe, he was called to the Island bar in 1846.  A year later he entered politics as a Conservative, and went on to represent Georgetown in the legislature from 1847 until 1870, serving as Colonial Secretary, House Speaker, and Solicitor-General.  Although not invited as a delegate to the Charlottetown Conference in 1864, Haviland is known to have interacted with the other delegates and gave a speech at the final banquet, and was subsequently called to represent the Island at the Quebec Conference.  From 1870-1872, and 1873-1876, he served as a Legislative Councillor, and in 1873, along with fellow Confederation advocates James C. Pope (younger brother of William H. Pope, Island Father of Confederation, and son of Joseph Pope, director of the Steam Navigation Company) and George W. Howlan, he would help to get the Island into Canada.  In the same year, Haviland was called to the Senate, but resigned in 1879 in order to take up the position of Lt. Governor of Prince Edward Island.  Before his death in 1895, he would follow in his father’s footsteps once more and serve as Mayor of Charlottetown.

The Rebirth of the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company

As Maritime Union was being discussed in the 1864 sitting of the legislature, and rumblings of a conference were in the offing, a familiar organization made a long-awaited return to the Island.  On April 25th, an act of (re)incorporation was issued for the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company after nearly two decades of virtual dissolution.  But despite the fact that the name remained the same, the company itself had changed considerably.  Gone were the familiar names of Joseph Pope, James Peake, and Charles Hensley, replaced by the likes of Robert Hodgson (the first Island-born knight), Robert Longworth, John Ings (not to be confused with the first lighthouse keeper of Point Prim), George Davies, George Fesh, and Ambrose Lane Brown.  Gone also was the inclusive nature of the original company.  While the first phase of the Steam Navigation Company was composed largely of the elite of Island society, the fact that a single share cost between £5 and £6 meant that a person need not have been a member of the upper class in order to participate in the venture.  In 1864, however, the philosophy was significantly altered.   This time around, the number of shares available was capped at forty, with each share worth a small fortune of £500.  The natural conclusion is that the directors desired to exclude all but the most well-to-do – after all, it wasn’t just anyone who could afford to part with that kind of money in Prince Edward Island in 1864.  But perhaps there was another factor at play.  If the directors made the price of shares affordable to everyone, then they could possibly find themselves dealing with anyone on the Island, when what they really needed was serious investors.  Additionally, by capping the number of shares at forty, at most only forty people could purchase shares – provided they sold at the rate of one share per person.  With fewer people involved, the decision-making process would be greatly facilitated, not to mention the investors would no doubt be friends and acquaintances of the directors.

Unfortunately, no shareholder lists appear to be extant for the second phase of the Steam Navigation Company, so we can only postulate as to who might have purchased shares.  What we do know, however, is that the company must have found investors, since it managed to place two steamboats in the water for the 1864 season, which greatly contrasts with the trials and tribulations of its predecessors.  But despite its comeback, the company did not manage to secure the mail contract.  Instead, its vessels, the Heather Belle and the Princess of Wales (also known as the St. Lawrence) were contracted at £600 each to serve as passenger and freight ships.  While the Heather Belle was tasked with running routes between Charlottetown, Brush Wharf, Port Selkirk, and Cherry Point Wharf daily, and once per week to Crapaud, as well as between Mount Stewart and Charlottetown every Tuesday and Saturday mornings (calling at Hayden’s, Hickey’s, and Appletree Wharves), the Princess of Wales made a weekly run between Georgetown and Pictou; however, in the event that one of the mail steamers found itself out of commission, the directors made sure to place a clause on the Heather Belle to the effect that she be allowed to forgo her passenger service and fill the vacancy.

And with that, the Prince Edward Island Steam Navigation Company was back in business.

One Week in September

As September 1st quickly approached, there was barely any talk of the upcoming conference.  With the exception of the newspapers, which occasionally attempted to stir up debate by reminding Islanders of what lay in wait, the Island was practically silent on the matter.  Quite frankly, people simply cared neither about, nor for, union of any kind; and besides, there were more important things that required attention.

In one of the many fortunate accidents of history, it was a conflict across the Atlantic that helped to jumpstart what would become Prince Edward Island’s greatest industry, in full swing by 1864.  While the Island did possess a very suitable geography for shipbuilding, not to mention vastly untapped timber resources, it was the Napoleonic Wars and the blockade of the Baltic that forced Britain to turn its attention to its colonies in British North America, especially the Maritime provinces.  A naval power needs ships, and ships need wood.  And the Island had a lot of it.  What began as simple timber production would soon expand into a burgeoning business as people began to see the profits to be made in building ships.  By the mid 1800s, it had become inextricably linked to the Island’s economy.  As politician Donald Montgomery pointed out in 1853:

“When it prospers all our interests prosper; and when it declines, depression is imperiously felt by the whole body of the people.”

Despite what many believe, however, shipbuilding was just like any other industry, and as Montgomery so aptly indicated, it was subject to market fluctuations.   A “boom and bust” business from beginning to end, it saw over 4000 vessels both large and small launched from shipyards which sprang up across the Island, destined for such markets as Newfoundland and the United Kingdom, or as simple coastal trading ships.  Beginning in 1815 and extending into the 1860s, the industry, despite ups and downs, was characterized by an overall rise in production; following this, the situation stabilized in the 1870s, and then subsequently declined into the 20th century when it ended.

By the early 1860s, the industry had hit its highest point, and Prince Edward Island, per capita, was producing twice the amount of ships as New Brunswick, and three times that of Nova Scotia.  The economic spin-off was positively remarkable.  As De Jong and Moore illustrate:

In the 1860s, shipbuilding permeated the lives of most Islanders.  It was a highly decentralized industry which directly and indirectly employed thousands of full, part-time, skilled and unskilled tradesmen.  The finished product enabled agricultural products to reach both local and international markets.  The hard cash and credit the industry generated enabled merchants to import greater quantities of consumer goods, which those in the local market had the financial means to purchase.  Similarly, the additional revenue collected in customs duties was channelled into public improvements, notably schools, roads and later railways.  In this period, more than any other, the lives of Islanders were influenced by the unprecedented activity, and ‘spin-offs’ from shipbuilding.  Combined with expanded trade and improved agricultural production, the exceptional economic impact of shipbuilding made Islanders justifiably proud of their achievements as a maritime province.

And as the capital city, Charlottetown was reaping the rewards.

Given its ample harbor and significant rise of tide, Charlottetown had all the makings of an excellent shipbuilding location; however, the industry was slow to take up, and it was only in 1843 that it began to be a common sight to see ships under construction on the waterfront.  Following a decline in the late 1850s, the period between 1862 and 1865 saw five vessels per year launched, the majority of which were exported to the United Kingdom.  But despite its size and prestige relative to other locales, the city had difficulty attracting individuals who were willing to set up full-scale shipbuilding enterprises.  Instead, it was home to numerous speculators, men who were more interested in playing the markets and only striking when the iron was hot.  As a way of cutting costs and maximizing profit, they tended to contract to shipyards outside of Charlottetown in order to be closer to the necessary raw materials.

While it may not have been a hub for shipbuilding per se, Charlottetown was nevertheless the undisputed commercial center in Prince Edward Island.  Despite experiencing an “economic torpor” following its incorporation as a city in 1855, by the 1860s the situation had greatly improved.  The majority of the commercial activity in the capital could be found at the waterfront, where the wharves were in constant use by hundreds of people.  On any given day, the wharves would cater to merchant and passenger vessels, Royal Navy ships, coastal freighters, ferries, and other craft, and during the week of the Charlottetown Conference alone, nearly twenty ships of various sizes and makes, with cargo such as coal, limestone, grindstone, ballast, timber, and general merchandise, were entering and clearing the harbor.   There can be no doubt that, following its construction, the lighthouse at Point Prim proved a boon to the city by offering a measure of security for all vessels approaching Charlottetown.

Commerce, however, was seasonal, and based on agriculture, the fishery, and shipbuilding.  In its earlier days, the big export out of Charlottetown would have been timber; but as more land became cleared of vegetation, agriculture produced the prime exports.  To put into perspective the importance of agriculture, and Charlottetown, to the commerce of the Island:  In the 1860s, farm crops equalled one-half of the value of the Island’s exports, and the capital was responsible for exporting just under one-half of all farm crops – in essence, a value nearing one-quarter in the area of crops alone!  But as Rider points out, just as commerce needed a place like Charlottetown to facilitate it, Charlottetown, lacking in major industries, was also in desperate need of commerce:

Commerce catering to the needs of both local citizens and rural folk was the city’s lifeblood.

During the 1850s, Charlottetown dealt largely with markets in the United Kingdom, and other British territories, and business was good; but the situation greatly improved in 1854 with the signing of the Reciprocity Treaty, which opened up a very profitable trading relationship with the United States, and established a shipping route that would have benefited incredibly from the Point Prim Lighthouse.

On the eve of the conference, then, the Island’s residents – especially those in the capital – were already quite occupied with other matters.  Word also had it that the circus was coming to Charlottetown, the first in twenty some years – now there was a must-see event!

It seems laughable today, but the arrival of Slaymaker and Nichols’ Olympic Circus, which landed in Charlottetown just prior to the conference, actually did cause mass indifference and accommodation chaos.  The city was flooded by young and old from across the Island, and hotel rooms were a scarce commodity.  Having to wait two decades in order to see acrobats and animals must have created substantial withdrawal, for on August 31st, when the delegation from Nova Scotia arrived from Brule aboard the Steam Navigation Company’s vessel Heather Belle, along the way having steamed past Point Prim, no one, not even any of the Island’s politicians – let alone its delegates – were on hand to greet them at the wharf.  To add insult to injury, no provision had been made for their lodgings, and so the Nova Scotia contingent was forced to fend for itself, eventually setting up in the Pavilion.  The Examiner, owned and operated by Edward Whelan, could not help but point out that:

…There was not a carriage of any kind, – not even a truck to take their luggage to the hotels or boarding house; and they were suffered to find out, by rule of thumb, where they could get something to eat and a bed to lie upon.

The reception that night for the delegates from New Brunswick was hardly any better.  Arriving from Shediac aboard the Princess of Wales, with the light at Point Prim visible in the distance, only William Pope was waiting to greet them and assist in locating suitable accommodations.  The reception for the Canadian delegates the following morning was likewise threadbare as they sailed in on the steamer Queen Victoria, those on the deck perhaps greeted by the lighthouse to the east.  Again, only Pope was to be seen, and in what would become an iconic image of Confederation and of Prince Edward Island, he was rowed out in a tiny boat to meet them.  Despite the fact that Canada had assembled an impressive delegation composed of a number of hard-hitting politicians, no effort had been made to secure rooms for them either, and as a result, many found themselves returning to the Queen Victoria each night.  The conference was not off to a good start.

When discussions began the following day, the Canadian delegates immediately took over.  This was their best chance to impress upon the Maritime provinces the value of a federal union, and they were not about to waste it.  When they and the rest of the delegates weren’t benefiting from a much improved Island hospitality – in which food and spirits abounded in liberal quantities – they spoke at length about the idea of Confederation, ensuring that there was little, if any, talk of Maritime Union.  The plan was successful, for when they finally left the Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and Island delegates to talk amongst themselves toward the end of the conference, the three Maritime provinces concluded that it would be better to forgo a tripartite alliance in favor of a federal union – but only if satisfactory terms could be obtained.  And so it was decided to adjourn the talks in Charlottetown until the 10th of September, when they would all reconvene in Halifax, and then make a token visit to New Brunswick, to further discuss the issue (their activities in these provinces are largely considered to be an extension of the Charlottetown Conference).

While the conference hadn’t been all business, and there had been ample time for leisurely activities, good food, and great drink, on the final night of the week-long event the Island delegates threw their counterparts a send-off, the likes of which the Island had assuredly never before seen.  Hosted at the Colonial Building (now known as Province House, and built by Isaac Smith of Point Prim fame), the structure was transformed from the serious place of discussion of the past few days into an exclusive, invite-only ball (read: party), during which time those in attendance danced and drank the night away – literally.  By the time the festivities concluded, it was four o’clock in the morning.  

Given the rocky reception on the 1st, it was only fitting that the departure be rocky as well.  In an anecdote about the Charlottetown Conference that is rarely discussed, The Islander revealed that:

At the close of the Ball on Thursday, or rather on Friday, the Delegates proceeded from the Colonial Building on board the “Confederate cruiser” Queen Victoria which was lying in the stream with steam up in readiness to convey them to Pictou or Halifax.  Ere all had torn themselves from the Ball-room, and found their way on board, the hour of sun-rise had come round.  Aurora’s rosy fingers were not to be seen in the East – a dense fog hung over the river, such as we see in Prince Edward Island only once in ten years, and which we suppose having come over from Nova Scotia and New Brunswick to do honor to the Delegates from those Provinces, rendered it unsafe to get under weigh.  The Princess of Wales was due from Pictou, but no Princess was to be seen, and pitiable was the condition of those who, on the wharf, waited disconsolately her arrival, longing for that repose which in her comfortable state-rooms they had promised themselves and which they so much needed.  The gentlemen on board the Queen Victoria had accepted an invitation to breakfast with Mr. Scott, at the Albion Mines.  It was certain that they would not reach Pictou until long after the usual hour for breakfast.  It was indeed uncertain when they would be able to get out of Charlottetown harbor, so dense was the fog.  Somewhere about the hour of eight the darkness had so far undergone the process of dissipation as to warrant the Captain of the Queen Victoria in proceeding towards the Harbor’s mouth.  As slowly the Steamer passed down the river, the little Heather Belle was observed, from her deck, sticking in the mud under Kelly’s Cove, whither she had gone while attempting to finder her way up the River; and on nearing the harbor the Princess of Wales was discovered in a similar fix under Brickmaker’s Point [present-day Langley area in Stratford].  After commiserating the fate of the unfortunates – those who on the wharves of Charlottetown who were awaiting the arrival of the Princess of Wales, and the farmers up the river who had trusted to the Heather Belle to carry them to market – the more fortunate inmates of the Queen Victoria sat down to a comfortable breakfast…and at a little after midday the Queen Victoria was off to Pictou.

Apparently the delegates left in a fog, in more ways than one.

Following the Charlottetown Conference, and a subsequent rendezvous in Halifax and New Brunswick, the delegates opted for a second conference in Quebec that October in order to set in stone what had been discussed in Charlottetown.  It was here that Prince Edward Island would leave the table after finding no terms justifying its continued support of the enterprise.  For the rest, however, it was all but decided, and after meeting in London to sign official documents (simply a formality by this point), the newest nation of Canada was proclaimed on July 1, 1867.  Ironically, what had begun in Prince Edward Island would, in the end, not include the Island at all; that aside, Island delegates, some of whom had played a role in the erection of the Point Prim Lighthouse, would help light the way to the formation of Canada.  And in just six short years, the Island would join Confederation.

But that is another story altogether.