The Hibou

2006-11-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

The Lost

Captain Norman McKay, Master
J. McReynolds, Wheelman
M. McIvor, Chief Engineer
Chester Dunham, Fireman
R. Earls, Cook
James Minard, Fireman
Miss Iona Johnson, Stewardess

The Rescued

James Agnew, 1st Mate
Howard Allan, 2nd Mate
Orville Parr, Purser
Daniel Rouse, Deckhand
Duncan Smart, Deckhand
R. Record, Deckhand
D. MacIntosh, Deckhand
Ross Galbraith, Deckhand
E. Carr, Second Engineer
Ernest Rouse, Deckhand

As cars keep pace along shore

2006-11-21T19:13:00.000-08:00

A refitted boat not much bigger than a tub

delivering supplies to Manitoulin Island
in November just before the ice

just before the end of the season

sank near Squaw Point. Driving to Leith

near Tom Thomson's grave (another local boy
who met his match in the water)

my mother points to the spot
the Hibou sank

she repeats stories told to her

and I see Captain McKay on the deck
of the Hibou dip beneath the surface.

This story starts with rumours

2006-11-21T19:08:00.000-08:00

The cargo, a load of cattle
shifted position

and the steamer lost balance.

A woman panicked by rushing water
and the rising horizon

locked herself in the washroom.

It sank near enough to shore
they could have been saved

swam to land like the rest.

They found her coat, dragged it
to the surface

thinking it was Iona.

Her body was found, caught on
the grappling hook

but lost by an unsteady hand.

Through the open door

2006-11-21T19:03:00.000-08:00

The sparks & glow of Kennedy's foundry
a constant of steel & fire
a roster of men
passing through & picking up
work when able
& those who never left home
risked the worry of distance

nestled close to shore
where land & water meet
propellers stamped 'Wm. Kennedy & Sons'
loaded on to railway cars
because trains travel
where water can't take you

past city limits
south to Toronto
Michigan or New York
north across the sheld
& either coast

new boats for the proplellers
new cargo for the boats
then back through the canals
& seaways to Owen Sound Harbour
where land & water meet.

The deckhand has an Isaac Newton moment

2006-11-21T19:02:00.000-08:00

MacIntosh watched his toothbrush
fall from the ledge
and knew this was more than gravity
up to its usual tricks.

Did his voice float?

2006-11-21T18:57:00.000-08:00

Travel the short distance to shore
crest the waves, press
against the night sky

Carry us from this sorrow, measure
the weight of kindness
comfort offered, moments shared.
Don't leave us to these depths.

Words disappear into water. Words
disappear into water. Words disappear
into water. Words.
Into water, he slips.

The last anyone saw of Iona

2006-11-21T18:55:00.000-08:00

1.
She ran back below
looking for a coat,
something to cover her nightdress.

2.
Dangling from the rail,
asking what she should do
as rafts bobbed over water.

MacIntosh is pulled, unconscious and stiff, from the breakwater

2006-11-21T18:53:00.000-08:00

They move quickly, grab the young deckhand
wipe the foam from his mouth

inhale, a silent wish

that they've found him in time

arrived before the Angel Gabriel
leans forward
to touch the water's
surface &
blow his trumpet

ripples bouncing across
the morning waves
calling the young
man home.

The deckhand, Galbraith, desperately wants a smoke

2006-11-21T18:50:00.000-08:00

When the call came to jump
he leapt with cigarette in mouth.

Two hours on the raft
hands & feet paddling
through water ready to freeze

calling to the occasional car

the only sign along shore
until they see the Gibbons' porch light

isn't enough to distract him
from what he lost.

Mrs. Gibbons' kitchen acts as unofficial headquarters

2006-11-21T18:47:00.000-08:00

She thought the voices
came from a party breaking up
along the shore

until men stumbled
into her kitchen
fresh water drunk.

Is a blanket pulled tight,
a clutched mug of coffee,
more powerful

than the freezing water
the near drowning
& desperate search for missing friends?

They gathered around her stove
first the Hibou crew then
the search party
between shifts on boats

sharing that space of warmth
that moment of safety.

Rescue Squad

2006-11-21T18:46:00.000-08:00

Racing to the Gibbon's farm

they've misunderstood the call,
heard Hydro
rather than Hibou

2 ambulances lost
on the back roads

looking for a crew of city workers.

Before breakfast was ever served

2006-11-21T18:42:00.000-08:00

Working at the 11th street Mission
Chester Dunham's wife

could not answer the Minister

as he passed through the room
commenting,
looking for solace in a friendly face

'Shame about the Hibou,' he said

not knowing her husband
was on board.

Dressing for the weather

2006-11-21T18:37:00.000-08:00

They dragged him from the water
without a coat.
'Proof,' the newspaper said
'the Captain gave
a gallant bid for his life'

discarded anything
that might weigh him down,
work against him
in the waves.

You think how cold
he must have felt

like slipping along wet rocks
and landing in the river

friends leading you home (jeans
stiffening as you walk)
to your mother, angry

because you shouldn't have been
anywhere near the water,
especially this time of year
with heavy coats to drag you under

but she brings you soup
checks for a fever
kisses the top of your head

because you are safe.

A grappling hook
searched the bottom, gloveless hands
gripped the handle
dropped into icy waters

snow falls around them
as the Captain's body is lifted into
the arms of the search party.

A newpaper photo describes the scene

2006-11-21T18:34:00.000-08:00

Dishes
a toothbrush
deck chairs
a mattress
cupboards
candles
a thin grey coat
soap
a few books
a pillow
a gramed photograph
Carl Davey's car
driving into the shallow water, as men
on the running board reach
for James Minard's body.

The various ways that truth can alter a story

2006-11-21T17:41:00.000-08:00

Who's to say
that her body never reached the surface
found loving arms?

Iona and McIvor find a boat to take them to the island. They settle into a patch of land, build a shack, plant a garden. No one pays much attention to them, or cares that they arrived overnight, unannounced, without claim. They paint their home a dark blue, the colour of water.

They move to Torotno where Iona works in the shoe department at Simpson's, McIvor takes a job with the city, paving roads. They live in a small apartment with poor plumbing above a store in Cabbagetown. They feel happiest in the summertime, windows open, voices from the street drifting in.

They land in the Prairies, find a home in a colony, make peace with God in a community that swallows them whole, hides them beneath the open sky.

They stick with the rails, hitch, crisscrossing the continent. They outlast the Depression and the Second World War, the return of the soldiers and suburbs creeping over fields. By the 1950's, they are in Las Vegas. McIvor has a job parking cars. He's much older than his co-workers. He listens, their stories of conquest rattling the desert air, while his own words, his tale of rebirth, stay hidden. Iona cleans rooms in the new hotels. She enjoys this life, watching men and women flock to the casinos, escape their daily routine, hoping for a quick way out.

Because the story
only ends for us.

She walks out of the bay during the early hours. Iona thinks about calling out to the fire trucks, the rescue boats pushing into the water but her voice won't break through. She watches in silence. She cuts across fields, slipping into the back of a farmhouse for a change of clothes, then walks along the shoreline toward Meaford. No one recognizes her. She is only a quiet girl looking for a ride to the next town. She climbs into the cab of a pickup, gently refusing some coffee, worried that her nervous hands will drop the cup, and rests her arm against the door. Iona watches the fields and forests, one small town after another, the entire day, pass by. She tries to see beyond the beam of the headlights, through the falling snow.

Reflections on geography

2006-11-21T17:35:00.000-08:00

Is he a part of the water that reaches them at shore,
that space between water and land?

When they walk across the rocky bottom, dip their heads
beneath the cool surface

glide through the water

is it their father they feel?

The same water that flows around the peninsula
passes through the canals and seaway

travels, merges, consumes

a body, many bodies that submit
only to the heavens, the will of the moon

opens wide, spreads it's arms
wraps itself around each stretch of land.

Every hand will seek
pull from plunge into
the same water

each one wet with words.

Everyone, eventually, will feel their father's touch.

Iona

2006-11-21T17:31:00.000-08:00

She is a legend by the next summer
a monster of the deep
a stage whisper over a campfire

weeds tickling the back of your leg
schools of small fish swimming too close
sinking to your ankles in the silt
between slippery rocks

everything that you can't see
that rests beneath the green brown water
threatens to rise to the surface
or pull you under.

You walk down from the back road, dive into the water with your clothes still on

2006-11-21T17:24:00.000-08:00

You do this without thinking
or pause. Step from land to water.
Throw yourself beneath the waves
head first. Feel the cool pull of wet clothes.

You know the best path, free of stones
and obstacles. Stand on the large, flat rock.
Look back to shore, the trees
against the sky.

You can never pass your hand
along the surface of water.
The slightest touch is too much weight.
You will break the skin

slip beneath

as you try to remember science class
the properties of water
and the human body

molecules, sublimation, particles colliding.

You wonder if you can see where they meet.

Driving toward the west hill

2006-11-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

Poppa had a compass on the dash
beside the tin of powdered candies.
I'd watch it bob and spin
a little port, a little starboard
lost in the change of motion
calling out the predictions
of the dashboard globe.
It's good to know your direction
even if you don't know where you're going.