Roots – Prince Edward County Moments

From history to revival: County’s barns find new life

watercolour — Sat, 26 Aug 2023 19:02:51 +0000

Barns stand as enduring witnesses to our history, embodying tales of generations long gone. Whether weathered or still standing strong, these barns have witnessed the changing seasons and the stories of generations. In the County, a revival is underway as modern industries such as wineries, distilleries, event venues, homes, and more infuse fresh vitality into these extraordinary remnants of the past.

Do you have a passion for capturing the rustic charm of old County barns? We'd love to see your photos and stories of these iconic structures that hold the echoes of our past.

From Hessian soldier to County pioneer: The legacy of Conrad Bongard

watercolour — Sat, 01 Jan 2022 04:22:32 +0000

Through the twists and turns of fate, Conrad Bongard left an indelible mark on Prince Edward County.

Life plans Interrupted

Born Johann Konrad Bangert in 1751 in Lohrhaupten, Germany, he was a linen weaver (Leinweber) by trade. At 160 cm (5'3") in height, his lack of stature was overshadowed by his grit and determination, characteristics that ultimately preserved his life.

Conrad was not destined for a secure life as a tradesman -- he was among 30,000 young German men who were conscripted into military service in 1776, to serve as auxiliaries to the British Army during the American Revolutionary War. In Conrad’s home state of Hesse-Cassel, leasing soldiers to other countries was a major source of government income. The German Auxiliary forces, known as Hessians, were among the most formidable in the world -- reputed as tough, well-trained, and valued for getting the job done.

During the American Revolution, 1,200 German auxiliaries died in battle and over 6,000 died from disease. At the end of the war, 17,000 returned to Germany, but 5,000 chose to stay in North America.

Farewell to homeland and family

The Hessian military training and discipline was brutal, molding the men into powerful soldiers capable of withstanding some of the harshest conditions. They were schooled in European warfare, drilled constantly and endlessly conditioned. Men could be hanged for leaving their post and their families would also be punished for their misconduct. These stiff penalties resulted in the most disciplined army in Europe.

Conrad trained as a cannoneer with the Hesse-Hanau artillery. The roar of the artillery eventually caused him to lose his hearing.

Hesse-Hanau artillery

When the troops departed Germany in 1776, this was Conrad’s final farewell to his homeland, his ageing parents, a brother and two sisters. The march from Germany to England was the first leg of a long and arduous journey to reach America. His regiment embarked from Portsmouth, England to sail across the Atlantic to Canada. The perilous transatlantic crossing took about six weeks, dependent on the wind and weather conditions. The journey across the ocean was difficult. The men endured weeks of sea sickness, cramped quarters, and unsanitary conditions replete with spoiled food and water, scurvy, swollen legs, the itch, fevers, rats, and high tensions. They finally arrived in Québec to join the British army.

They disembarked with mixed expectations. The troops were poorly informed, they had been told very little about the colonies or the aims of the expedition. What they knew about America came mostly from rumours. Most of the men had never been outside their own small village, and few had ever been outside Germany. In this new land they were homesick, frequently ill, surrounded by foreigners who spoke English and French, engaged in a strange war, and longing only to return home alive.

Sent to the front lines of battle

While most of the Hesse-Hanau regiment remained in Canada to protect the border in present-day Québec and Ontario, a portion of their soldiers including Conrad were sent to engage in active combat in the Colonies.

Conrad’s Hesse-Hanau artillery division fought in the naval Battle of Valcour Island (located on Lake Champlain in New York) in which most of the ships in the American fleet under the command of Benedict Arnold were captured or destroyed. This victory was followed by the successful takeover of Fort Ticonderoga, widely believed to be virtually impregnable and a vital point of American defence.

Battle of Valcour Island

Their fortunes of war turned in October 1777, in Lieutenant General John Burgoyne's Saratoga campaign. Vastly outnumbered by the American force, Burgoyne was forced to surrender. The British and German troops he led were kept in captivity until the end of the war in 1783.

“Surrender of General Burgoyne” by John Trumbull

Prisoner of War

The 2,139 British, 2,022 Germans, and 830 Canadians who General Burgoyne surrendered at the Battle of Saratoga in October, 1777 were not supposed to end up as prisoners of war. The terms of surrender included shipment to Britain, but the newly formed United States of America Confederation Congress voided the deal.

The Saratoga campaign and surrender took place near present-day Schuylerville, New York. Those soldiers were, over the next five and a half years, forced to march 1,100 miles (1770 km) between prisoner of war camps in Massachusetts, Maryland and Virginia.

When the troops arrived during winter at Albemarle camp in Charlottesville, Virginia, the German prisoners had to build their own log shelters. Some of the troops deserted to the Americans, especially when food supplies ran low because the British quit paying the bills when the troops were sent to Virginia. At the time of the American Revolution, nations were responsible for providing supplies for their prisoners. Others managed to escape and get back to the British base at New York City. Roughly 85% of Gen. Burgoyne's army died from disease and starvation, or deserted and started a new life in America.

Conrad attempted to escape in 1780 but was recaptured. This didn’t daunt him for long, he escaped again and successfully made the long trek back to New York to the British lines. He had to be resourceful in order to remain hidden from the rebel Americans and to find food and shelter along the way. Adding to the difficulty was his thick German accent that prevented him from easily blending into the American population. From New York he traveled by ship back to his regiment in Quebec.

Ordered back into military service in Germany

The end of a war should be a relief. However, when the American Revolution was over In 1783, most of the Hessian soldiers went home to Germany to be called to fight in another war in some other place. Conrad applied for permission to remain in Canada but that was refused by his commander because he was a subject of the Hesse-Hanau Prince. Bangert deserted on 1 August 1783, the day of embarkation of his regiment to Germany.

Harsh weather, defeat, and imprisonment were not enough to dampen his affection for the New World way of life. His home state of Hesse-Cassel and the other central German provinces were landlocked, densely populated, and over-farmed. He could envision greater opportunities in Canada.

Settling in Marysburgh

After release from his desertion, Conrad became the servant of surveyor Holland and together they surveyed up the St. Lawrence and much of the first four townships in Prince Edward County.

Meanwhile, several thousand of the troops and United Empire Loyalists were assembling at Sorel in Lower Canada (now Quebec). They had been granted land in Upper and Lower Canada for their loyalty to the British Crown and were awaiting passage in the spring of 1784 to their designated areas. As an NCO, Conrad was entitled to a land grant of 500 acres in Marysburgh in Prince Edward County.

Before their departure from Quebec, Conrad married a widow Susanna Victoria Houseman Carr/Kerr at the Holy Trinity Church in Quebec City. Susanna’s first husband had died as a prisoner in Virginia and may have been imprisoned with Conrad.

Under the leadership of officer Baron Gottlieb Christian von Reitzenstein, 29 men, seven women, and eight children destined for Marysburgh undertook the arduous trip along the Saint Lawrence River from Lachine to Cataraqui, today called Kingston. The morale of the group sank when they had to endure several more months in Cataraqui because their land in Marysburgh was not yet surveyed. When they finally reached the area allocated to them on October 4th, 1784, there was just enough time to erect makeshift cabins to shield them from the harsh winter.

The hunger years

The British government supplied rations to the settlers for the first three years, dispatched out from Montreal. The remote settlement of Marysburgh was the last depot along the delivery route, by which time the supplies were largely depleted. Baron von Reitzenstein incessantly advocated the cause of the settlers to the representatives of the British Crown, getting as far as the governor. However, his requests were not answered, and his stake of almost 1500 acres was seized when he went into debt to help the other settlers. He subsequently left Marysburgh and headed to Quebec, where he died in 1794.

It took a few years for the Hessian settlers to become self-sustaining, as the densely forested land had to be cleared before they could farm it. They learned how to fish and make maple syrup from the “Indians”. The year of 1787, after the rations stopped, is known as “the hunger year” when many starved to death.

Pioneers

In this undeveloped wilderness, it was hard to maintain communications with the outer world. Usually in the fall of the year settlers joined with neighbours in chartering a small vessel to Kingston. They brought the produce of their farms, for which they bartered for clothes, boots, harness, etc. Sometimes when it was difficult to get shoes, they made crude shoes from tanned leather from the hide of an ox.

At the time of his daughter Christiana’s birth in 1788, Conrad and Susanna had a cow, a team of oxen for tilling a few acres of partly cleared land, a settler’s and soldier’s right to about 500 acres of primeval forest, well stocked with deer, wolves and other wild animals. Sheep, pigs and horses were not yet introduced.

Bongard’s Corners

The spelling of Johann Konrad Bangert’s name gradually changed to Conrad Bongard. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the spelling of names was based on sounds and therefore varied greatly. Examples of other local Hessian names that became anglicized are Minaker (from "Meinecke/Moennecke"), Smith (from Schmidt or Schmitt), Hineman (from Heinemann/Hinerman/Hinderman), Snider (from Schneider).

Shortly after their arrival in Prince Edward County, the settlers built a small Reformed Lutheran church in Waupoos from beams and lumber floated over from the government sawmills at Cataraqui. The Bongards of Marysburgh possessed a copy of the bible in the German language and a Lutheran minister named Meyers conducted services. By the turn of the century the population of Bongard’s Corners had reached 150 and a post office was opened in 1843. This community was among the first German-speaking settlements in Ontario.

Customs of the Fatherland

Although loyal to the British crown, Conrad prided himself on preserving the customs of the Fatherland. He continued to speak English with no great concern as to its accuracy and this was characteristic of his children after many years of association with those who spoke English. His son-in-law, Wm. Williams, recalled that the absorbing topic of conversation at the wedding breakfast was concerning the best way to make sauerkraut!

Conrad's daughter Christiana received some education, enabling her to read in both the German and English languages. Her teacher was the Lutheran minister Meyers.

Rose House

Christiana Bongard married a British Loyalist, Peter Rose. Peter bought a plot of land next to the old Lutheran church and upon their marriage Christiana received 60 acres of land adjacent to this property as her dowry. Here, Peter and Christiana used the pine wood from the remains of the old church to build their farmhouse, where they raised 11 children. Described as the gem of Waupoos, Rose House has survived since the early 1800s with few alterations, inhabited by several generations of the Rose family. The Rose House has been a museum since 1964.

Rose House Museum in Waupoos

The Rose Cemetery located near Rose’s house contains the remains of most of these first German settlers. Hessians were initially granted the status of U.E.L. United Empire Loyalists, but this was revoked in 1802 by order of the Lieutenant governor of His Majesty’s Province of Upper Canada.

Conrad’s legacy

Despite a life of hardship, Conrad survived to the age of 89. At the time of his death in 1840, he left behind his widow, 9 children, 84 grandchildren, and 65 great-grandchildren, in all 158 living at that time. Seven generations later, his descendants now number in the thousands.

Conrad’s descendants have helped to shape Prince Edward County and Canada by their contributions as farmers, fishers, teachers, doctors, builders, sailors, entrepreneurs, lighthouse keepers, township councillors, a County Treasurer, a captain in the War of 1812, a Canadian diplomat and too many more to list.

Along his life’s journey, Conrad helped to establish one of the first German-speaking settlements in Ontario. Permanent markers of his presence include the survey work along the St. Lawrence and in Prince Edward County, the Rose House Museum and Rose Cemetery in Waupoos, and Bongard’s Crossroad.

As author, historian and Hessian descendant Jean-Pierre Wilhemy put it best:

"And so, generations pass, taking with them into oblivion the memories of their forefathers' hardships, hopes and freedom. New generations are left with only a surname for a legacy, a name whose spelling time has reshaped more than once, camouflaging the country of their origins and their ancestors."

Epilogue

As one of Conrad’s many descendants, I am thankful that he persevered and settled in Prince Edward County. He would undoubtedly be surprised at the transformation of the local landscapes – this area is no longer thickly forested, and about 25,000 settlers now call this home. However, the County's strong sense of community and independent spirit are still very much evident.

If your family is of Hessian descent from Marysburgh, please be sure to get in touch anne@countymoments.ca. I'd love to hear from you.

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Rescued by destiny: A love story anchored in history

watercolour — Tue, 21 Jul 2020 15:06:21 +0000

Our family's journey came together in the summer of 1972, completing a circle that had started almost a century before with a shipwreck on Lake Ontario.

By Anne Bongard VanVlack

Unbeknownst to us, our lives were intricately woven into the fabric of Lake Ontario's currents and the mysterious pull of the Marysburgh Vortex.

The Marysburgh Vortex

The Marysburgh Vortex, found off Prince Edward County's eastern coast, holds stories of unexplained shipwrecks, reminiscent of the Bermuda Triangle, from the age of sail and steam.

A Fleeting First Encounter

My journey into Bill's life, my future husband, began in a fortuitous way. In the summer of 1972, I was on Prince Edward Bay, fishing near our family's cottage at Morrison's Point. Bill was speeding around in a boat near his uncle Jack Lyons' cottages in Waupoos. Our paths briefly crossed in the bay—a fleeting encounter as Bill's boat circled mine. There was a mix of annoyance and curiosity as he glanced at my boat. This casual meeting left a lasting memory and would lead to a deeper connection.

A Second Encounter that Lasted 50+ Years

The next chapter of our story unfolded over fifty years. During my teens, I worked part-time at Vince's Farmers Market in Picton, where Bill would come to deliver apples from his family's orchard. Recognizing him from our earlier encounter, I forgave his earlier cheekiness, setting the stage for our eventual marriage three years later.

Our Family's Mutual Heritage With the Lake

Our shared history with Lake Ontario runs deep through both the Bongard and VanVlack families. Water is integral to my Bongard heritage, with generations of ancestors immersed in maritime activities. My father, once a sailor, turned to land life after my birth. The fishing skiff at our family cottage, crafted by my father and grandfather, carries memories of their dedication. My grandparents, former lighthouse keepers at Main Duck Island, were commercial fisherpeople, etching memories of shorelines and fishnets in my mind.

(Shown above) Anne, second from left with sisters and paternal grandfather Gerald Bongard at Point Traverse lighthouse. My grandparents had been lighthouse keepers at Main Duck Island and they fished commercially — I have faint memories of Grandpa checking fishing lines along the gravelly shorelines of South Bay, and the smell of fish nets drying in the sun. Generations before them had also eked out a living from the lake.

Bill's heritage also centres on Lake Ontario. His family has a strong connection to its waters, with his father and uncles engaging in boating and racing. The legacy of his namesakes, a sailor uncle and a ship captain great-grandfather, underscores his family's deep bond with the lake.

(Shown at left) Bill started boating at an early age. He was 6 years old in this photo.

Bill’s namesakes are his maternal uncle Willis Lyons (a sailor, shown at left), and his paternal great-grandfather William VanVlack (a ship captain, known as Captain Bill, shown at right).

The depth of our shared maritime heritage became evident when we discovered a connection dating back to a shipwreck in 1882.

December 1882 .. SHIP AGROUND!

In December 1882, Capt. William VanVlack, Bill's great-grandfather, was at the helm of the schooner Eliza Quinlan. Laden with coal, the ship ran aground on Poplar Bar near Point Traverse Lighthouse due to high winds, fog, and snow. The Marysburgh Vortex's pull might have contributed to their misdirection.

An account of the shipwreck from the book by Hugh F Cochrane "Gateway To Oblivion 1980"

The first sign that the Quinlan was destined for a bizarre fate occurred shortly after the vessel had cleared the American shore and sailed into a fog bank. Such conditions are not too unusual in these waters during the late fall. But the seamen themselves admitted that this was an unusually thick fog, which shrouded the vessel in a wet gray blanket. With this came a rapid drop in temperature and snow crystals began to form, quickly coating the decks and hatches with a thick layer of white. Waves began to rise around the vessel and their battering became a savage fury few had ever witnessed. Thunderous waves continued to smash her hull and drive her on before the fury of the storm, and there was no telling in which direction the Quinlan was headed, for her compass had suddenly ceased to function, its needle turning lazily in its case. Lashed from all directions, the ship plummeted on, her route totally out of the control of human hands.

Shortly before noon the Quinlan slammed into the Marysburgh shore. Her masts had been snapped off, and her hull was split as violent waves pounded her to pieces on the rocks. Powerless to stop the destruction, the crew hung on to what was left of the ship while witnesses gathered on the shore frantically trying to rescue the exhausted seamen from the wreckage.

A Daring Rescue

The schooner faced peril from pounding waves, isolated for hours until local fishermen from the Point Traverse lifesaving station reached them, braving the elements for a daring rescue. This act saved lives and unknowingly secured future generations.

This account from the British Whig (Kingston) highlighted the courage of my great-great-grandfather, Jackson Bongard (shown at right), who played a crucial role in the rescue.

The British Whig, December 9, 1882, reported that “… before their rescue the crew were in a most perilous position for several hours but were eventually rescued through the gallant efforts of Mr. Jackson Bongard, of Long Point, and a picked crew, who heroically manned a fishing boat and brought them safely to shore. A lake captain expressed the belief that no other men could have accomplished the perilous undertaking. …”

Extract from an article by Willis Metcalfe, local marine historian

Impact of the Rescue on Future Generations

The ripples of this event shaped destinies.

Capt. William VanVlack's life continued, and Bill's existence owes itself to this rescue.

Jackson Bongard's pocket watch remains a Bongard family heirloom, and Bill possesses an engraved crystal shot glass from Capt. Bill.

Jackson Bongard’s pocket watch has been passed down through the generations. It is currently in my possession.

Bill has inherited Capt. Bill’s engraved crystal shot glass.

Did our initial meeting occur by chance, or was it destined to carry forward a legacy? Our bond, woven through the waters of Lake Ontario, unites a shipwreck's past with the present and the days yet to come.

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From helm to harvest: Captain Bill’s risky business

watercolour — Wed, 25 Mar 2020 03:03:27 +0000

Captain Bill stood as a venturesome mariner in the golden era of sail and steam. Known familiarly as Captain Bill or Billy, his full name was William Elias VanVlack. His tenure encompassed the command of various sizable schooners and steamers navigating the waters of Eastern Lake Ontario. While the remuneration was attractive, Captain Bill harboured aspirations beyond the helm.

As he traversed the treacherous waters known as the "graveyard of Lake Ontario," he carried the weight of sailing's perils on his shoulders. This menacing stretch east of Prince Edward County had claimed the lives of countless sailors upon its rocky shoals. Captain Bill remained acutely aware that his fortune might one day wane, thus prompting a resolution to acquire a coal yard and retire from his seafaring career.

To build the financial foundation for this aspiration, Captain Bill ventured into ship investments. However, this path proved to be nearly as precarious as captaining vessels himself. His initial foray led him to become a partner in the schooner Eliza Quinlan. In an early winter gale of 1882, misfortune struck as Eliza Quinlan was thrust onto the rocks near Point Traverse's Poplar Point. Captain Bill and his crew narrowly escaped the clutches of death, thanks to the Point Traverse lifesaving crew. Unfortunately, the ship faced a less fortunate fate, shattered by the relentless fury of the waves.

Yet, this setback only fanned the flames of Captain Bill's determination. Instead of quelling his ambition, it fueled his drive to expedite his retirement from the sailor's life. He proceeded to acquire interests in schooners W.J. Suffel and Cleopatra, as well as the steamer Varuna. Throughout his career, he commanded steamers like Alexandria, the Empress of India, Enterprise, Greyhound, C.H. Merritt, D.R. Van Allen, and the schooners Cleopatra and Eliza Quinlan.

His involvement with the W.J. Suffel brought its own set of challenges. The following tale is based on a story by Alex Taylor of Picton while sailing on the Great Lakes.

This Suffel – there being three of them, and this was the middle one, the W.J. – was getting on in years. She had been a good ship, but had been laid up for a while. Capt. Wm. VanVlack of Toronto – everybody liked Billy and called him that – had taken the plunge and bought her at a bargain, as he thought. Thus, after years of struggle with the lakes, he became an owner. He didn't let it go to his head. He remained master of the steam barge D. R. Van Allen, at a good wage, and got Capt. Steve Taylor to sail his property.

Full of zeal, Steven brought the W.J. Suffel into Fairhaven, N.Y. for her first load. He told the DL & W office to pour 500 tons of anthracite into her, pronto. An hour later he was back, crestfallen. He found that the vessel was not insured, because the inspector found that it needed repairs. Billy knew nothing about it. The load of coal had been assigned to him, so if the load didn't arrive in Toronto he would be "barefoot at fifty." (broke)

So the crew set out for Toronto, hoping for the best. Next morning, in midlake, they found that there was a leak that the pumps could not keep up with. A few inches more and down she would go. "Boys" puffed Steve, under his breath so his daughter Jessie (the cook) wouldn't hear, "I hate to do this, for everything Billy VanVlack has in the world is right under our feet. But, we've got to leave her, if we're going to keep our caps dry".

"What are you doing, dad?" asked Jessie, as they readied the yawl. "We're leaving her, Jessie," Steve almost sobbed. "We're ruining Billy Van Vlack but we can't keep her afloat. We may be in the yawl a long time Jessie, and, you know -- hadn't you better go to the toilet, before you get into the boat?"

The Suffel was a well-found lake schooner, with a toilet for the cabin (most vessels used "outside plumbing".) When Jessie returned, she remarked that it sounded like a city hydrant bursting in the toilet. She had accidentally discovered the leak that was caused by a corroded discharge pipe from the toilet. The crewman Alexander Taylor worked underwater in the dark to stop up the leak with a wad of tarred waste and sailmaker’s fid (rope splicing tool). If the ship had sunk, it would have carried him a hundred fathoms down to the bottom of the lake. The pumpers started gaining on the leak and they limped the Suffel along for twelve hours until the lights from Gibraltar Point were spotted. Everyone was exhausted from the continuous pumping. If the wind had come up, it would have blown the Suffel over, with all that water in her.

Billy VanVlack met them with Joe Goodwin's little tug Nellie Bly. He had sold the coal cargo by telephone, the hour the Suffel was sighted. They towed her to the Burns dock. He paid the crew a bonus and instructed Steve to get all the work done that was needed to re-class her for insurance. "This trip'll pay for it all. No, don't lay the boys off. Keep 'em on full time till she's ready to sail again, and then sign 'em fresh. And double whatever you're paying Jessie."

The painting of the schooner W.J. Suffel, commissioned by Captain Bill, has been passed down through generations, now resting with his great-grandson (my husband, also named Bill VanVlack).

Though a coal yard remained an unrealized dream, Captain Bill shifted his focus closer to his familial roots in Picton, eventually partnering in the Royal Hotel. In 1912, he bade adieu to his sailing days and acquired a lakeside farm in Cressy, sharing it with his son Muir.

Photographs show Bill relaxing on the farm's veranda, overlooking Lake Ontario—a refuge from sailing's perils. His daring maritime journey ultimately yielded the safety of a farmer's life. Thus, Captain Bill transformed into Farmer Bill, a testament to perseverance and a risk-taker's legacy.

This article was featured in County Magazine Spring 2021 issue.

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Escape and return: Navigating the island lifestyle

watercolour — Sat, 28 Dec 2019 03:26:03 +0000

Gord Downie immortalized the County's Glenora Ferry with these lyrics to Bobcaygeon "where I saw the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time," to the "smudge of moon over Glenora Ferry's spotlight on the ice ahead."

The allure of island living has always held a special place in our hearts, invoking visions of tranquil shores and serene sunsets. This sentiment, however, often dances with a reality that strays from the romantic ideal.

Over the years, we've undertaken various endeavours to transcend these watery confines. Bridges to the mainland have been erected, channels have been crossed via boats and ferries, and the brave have even ventured across ice roads during the frosty grip of winter. Some have taken to the skies, departing from the Picton airport.

Undoubtedly, the call of our island home often proves irresistible, luring back wanderers who ventured afar, even if it takes several years for them to return.

However, an intriguing shift transpired in the wake of 2020 and the emergence of the coronavirus pandemic. The exodus we once knew has reversed course, as urban dwellers now flock to our cherished "island retreat." The spacious landscapes and unhurried pace of life serve as a magnetic draw. Fortunately, in these current times, traversing to and fro this island has become significantly more accessible.

Kevin McLachlan (Koovy) · Small Town

With time, we've charted the evolution of our escape routes. A simple click on the first image opens up a slideshow that maps out our journey, chronicling our quest for connection and freedom.

So, as the tides of change continue to flow, we find ourselves not just embracing island living, but witnessing its transformation from isolation to attraction.

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Kilts and courage: Highlanders in the New World

watercolour — Mon, 28 Oct 2019 15:40:10 +0000

Did you ever imagine that the bold Highlanders, donning their kilts, were some of the earliest European pioneers in Prince Edward County? Even after over two centuries, their family names remain familiar, etching their mark on the County's history.

In a time when history's tapestry was woven with threads of tradition and rebellion, a Highland custom faced suppression. The wearing of the kilt was deemed unlawful within the British Commonwealth. The consequences were severe, with imprisonment for the first offense and banishment to distant colonies for the second. This stringent ruling, established by the British Act of Proscription in 1746, aimed to subdue the unruly Scottish clans and incorporate them under governmental control..

Curiously, British soldiers were granted an exemption from this decree, a tradition inherited from the esteemed Black Watch regiment.

March of the 84th Highland Regiment

Amidst this backdrop, the 84th Highland Regiment marched gallantly into history, adorned in their iconic Highland uniforms, complete with plaids and swords. While the name implies a solely Scottish composition, this regiment was composed of about 25 percent Scottish soldiers, the remainder hailing from various corners of the English Colonies.

Their valorous experience was a cornerstone in safeguarding the lands that would eventually become Ontario, Quebec, and Atlantic Canada during the tumultuous times of the American Revolutionary War.

The echoes of battle and bravery eventually subsided, and as the curtain fell on the Revolutionary War, the "old 84th" unit was disbanded. Yet, the flame they ignited continued to burn, finding its manifestation in the Stormont, Dundas, and Glengarry Highlanders, a unit perpetuating their legacy in the Canadian Army.

From Battleground to Homestead

With the Highland warriors’ spirits still soaring, many of these kilt-clad soldiers transitioned into a new role – that of settlers, farmers, lumbermen, and fishermen in the picturesque surroundings of Prince Edward County. Their resilience and resourcefulness were the cornerstones of their new lives, carving out their destinies amidst the verdant landscapes.

A New Beginning: Highland Settlers in Prince Edward County

At the close of the American Revolution in 1784, the proud 84th Highland Regiment faced a crossroads in their lives. Disbanded and with their battlefield days behind them, many of these resolute soldiers found themselves drawn to the promise of a new beginning. Nova Scotia and Eastern Ontario welcomed these resilient veterans, granting them land as a token of gratitude from the king. Their mettle, honed on the battlegrounds, would serve them well as they embarked on the challenging journey of pioneering a fledgling nation.

One such band of retired Highlanders embarked on their journey in the autumn of 1784. A flotilla of flat-bottomed boats, known as bateaux, carried these intrepid souls to the shores of Prince Edward County. Led by the indomitable Lieutenant Archibald MacDonnell, they anchored their hopes and dreams at the heart of MacDonnell’s Cove—a haven nestled along the eastern expanse of Pleasant Point, a name etched in history as Prinyer's Cove.

The untamed wilderness of the "5th township," now recognized as North Marysburgh, awaited their touch. An untouched tapestry of nature stretched before them, cloaked in a dense forest that whispered tales of both challenge and opportunity. With no roadways to navigate, waterways and footpaths became their lifelines, connecting them to their past and leading them into the unknown tapestry of their future. The echoes of their footsteps marked the arrival of pioneers, destined to leave an indelible mark on the land they now called home.

Battling Adversity and the Elements

As the first winter enveloped the land, the men who had ventured to these untamed shores found themselves grappling with hardships that tested their mettle to its limits. Inadequate clothing, shelters that offered meager protection, tools that had yet to be forged, and scant sustenance painted a grim portrait of their initial struggles. The letter crafted by MacDonnell, penned on the 20th of September in 1784, captured the desperate situation in poignant detail.

“The British disbanded Troops … will in cold be reduced to the greatest distress, for want of clothing; some of them have not even a blanket to cover them from heavy rains & pinching frost, or to hold out the damp of the ground they lie upon. Another object of great consequence to them, is the want of a blacksmith to make & repair their axes, hoes & agricultural implements. They are a great distance from any immediate relief, some of them at thirty miles distance by land, exclusive of three miles of water.”

As if echoing their struggle, the words of Louis Armand de Lom d’Arce Lahontan took on new resonance: “To survive the Canadian winter, one needs a body of brass, eyes of glass, and blood made of brandy."

Forging the Path: Pioneering a Community

With unwavering determination, MacDonnell and his men wielded axes as they carved their dreams onto the untamed canvas of the wilderness. Land once shrouded in a thick blanket of trees was now cleared for the toil of farming, while logs that once reached for the sky were repurposed to fashion fences and cabins.

In their wake, roads emerged like lifelines, slicing through the dense woods and revealing pathways to a future yet uncharted. MacDonnell himself became a driving force, his vision stretching beyond the horizon as he toiled not only as a pioneer but as a magistrate, militia officer, and lieutenant of the burgeoning County.

More than 2,000 acres of land unfurled beneath MacDonnell's stewardship. In Marysburgh, ship's carpenters employed their skill to give rise to his log house that would stand as a silent sentinel for over a century. The log house passed into the hands of Elizabeth MacDonnell, his niece, who in her union with John Prinyer lent her name to the cove where their story intertwined.

Prinyer's Cove, a name echoing across centuries, stood as a haven for more than just aspirations. In the tapestry of the 1800s, it was frequented by commercial schooners seeking refuge from the tempestuous lake squalls. Docks welcomed vessels laden with supplies, lumber, fish, and eventually barley — an ever-changing tableau of commerce and community in tandem with the ebb and flow of the waters and time.

Guardians of the Cove: Outwitting the Odds

Though the Revolutionary War had faded, the frontier land remained a theatre of tension and strategy. Close to MacDonnell's Cove, a pivotal episode unfolded — one that would etch the name of Captain John Prinyer in the annals of bravery. Tasked with a daunting mission, Captain Prinyer found himself facing the stark reality of outnumbered odds as thirteen armed American soldiers made their incursion into British territory.

With only a small band of four men at his disposal, the odds seemed insurmountable. Yet, Captain Prinyer possessed something far mightier than numbers — his keen understanding of his adversaries.

The American soldiers, accustomed to the comforts of a more "civilized" existence, found themselves venturing into the rugged terrain — a world starkly different from their own. Their steps were haunted by the specter of the unknown, and whispers of the "natives" carried an aura of apprehension. Captain Prinyer, attuned to these nuances, seized upon their vulnerability, employing a plan that hinged on their lack of familiarity with the wilderness.

Prinyer dispersed his small band throughout the dense woods, each stationed to mimic the haunting war cry of the First Nations. This ingenious ruse plunged the American soldiers into a state of disarray and apprehension. As their camp was enshrouded by the eerie echoes, Captain Prinyer seized the opportune moment. With unwavering conviction, he strode into the American camp, casting himself as a saviour rather than a foe.

With silver-tongued persuasion, Captain Prinyer spun a tale of imminent peril — the threat of a brutal scalping by the vengeful "natives." Fear and uncertainty swirled in the American soldiers' eyes, and in their desperation, they laid down their arms and surrendered. What appeared to be an impending clash of might had been masterfully transformed into an act of wits, guided by the captain's deft hand.

Thirteen American soldiers, who had ventured with the intent to conquer, now found themselves transformed into captives. Bound by the threads of deception and outwitted by an ingenious stratagem, they were led to the city of Kingston, their destiny forever intertwined with the sagas of history.

Enduring Roots

The legacy of the 84th Regiment reverberates through time, woven into the very fabric of Prince Edward County's history. Over two centuries may have passed since their arrival, yet the echoes of their bravery and resilience continue to resound in the land they helped shape.

As you peruse the list of officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the 84th Regiment and their affiliated corps who found their home in Prince Edward County, take a moment to trace the threads that connect past and present. Their legacy is not confined to history books; it lives on in the lives they helped forge and the County they helped cultivate.

R. N. Y.- King’s Royal Regiment of New York (Sir John Johnson’s Corps.)
L. R.- Loyal Rangers (Jessup’s Corps.)
K. R.- King’s Rangers.
O. R.- Orange Rangers. E.R. Butler’s Rangers.

Campbell, Richard	Marysburgh	84th
Chavassey, James	Marysburgh	84th
Corbman, Jacob	Sophias & Ameliasb’g	R. R. N. Y., Sergeant
Cryderman or Cruderman, Michael	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y.
Cummings, John	Marysburgh	84th
Downley or Downey,Conretius	Marysburgh	84th
Dulmadge, David	Marysburgh	L. R.
Edwards, James	Marysburgh	84th
Farrington, Robert	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y., Corporal
Fox, Frederick	Sophiasburgh	R. R. N. Y., Corporal
Frederick, Lodwick	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y., Corporal
Grant, John	Marysburgh	84th
Grant, James	Marysburgh	84th, Sergeant
Hicks, Benjamin	Marysburgh	B. R.
Howell, John	Sophiasburgh	R. R. N. Y., Sergt. Major
Kelly, Patrick	Marysburgh	84th
Lodwick, Frederick	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y.
MacDonnell, Archibald	Marysburgh	84th Lieutenant
Mugel, Gadless	Sopias & Ameliasb’rg	R. R. N. Y.
McCrimmon, Donald	Marysburgh	84th
McKenzie, William	Marysburgh	84th
Ogden, John	Marys & Sophiasb’g	R. R. N. Y
Peters, John	Marys & Sophiasb’g	L. R. Ensign
Porter, Timothy	Marys & Sophiasb’g	L. R.
Powiss, Edward	Marysburgh	84th
Price, Thomas	Marysburgh	K. R.
Richards, Owen	Marys & Sophiasb’g	R. R. N. Y. Sergeant
Roberts, Thomas	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y.
Ross, Walter	Marysburgh	84th, Sergeant
Saunders, Henry	Marysburgh	K. R.
Stewart, John	Marysburgh	84th
Sutherland, John	Marysburgh	R. R. N. Y.
Wright, Joseph	Marysburgh	84th
Young, Daniel	Marys & Sophiasburg	R. R. N. Y.
Young, Henry	Marys & Sophiasburg	R. R. N. Y. Lieutenant
Zufelt, Henry	Hallowell	L. R.

As it happens, Col. Henry Young is my maternal ancestor (going back 7 generations). His sons, Daniel and Henry Young Jr. , are included in the above list. Henry was awarded 3,000 acres at East Lake in recognition of his service to the British Crown during the American War of Independence. It is said that Fort Henry at Kingston was named after Henry Young.

List from http://my.tbaytel.net/bmartin/84threg.htm

Today, their stories endure, handed down through generations, each family name like a thread interwoven into the tapestry of Prince Edward County’s past. These Highlanders, who once marched on distant battlegrounds, found a second home in this tranquil land, nurturing families whose roots run deep.