On Thursday of last week, Rev. S. J. Shorey, of Napanee, and George M. Elliott, collector of customs, of the same place, with Mrs. Elliott, son Launcelot and Mrs. Adams, had a thrilling experience and narrow escape whilst crossing Hay Bay at Woodcock’s ferry. A Sunday school convention and harvest festival was that day being held in a grove in South Fredericksburgh, near the old first Methodist church, Adolphustown, and close by the farm house, where, in early days, Squire Low did the legal and business conveyancing for half the Midland district of Upper Canada. Messrs. Shorey and Elliott were down on the program for addresses towards the close of the afternoon, and after dinner they left Napanee in a two-horse surrey to drive to the place of meeting via the ferry.

They arrived just as the horse-treader scow was leaving the north shore, and by hailing the “skipper’ were able to secure the return of the vessel upon which the horses and rig were driven, and the passage entered upon without delay. All went well until half-way across, when the scow sprung a serious leak at the stern, and began to settle in the water with startling rapidity. Mr. Shorey had alighted after getting aboard and with his usual desire for the reasons why, was busily investigating the machinery. The man in charge quietly called Mr. Shorey’s attention to the danger. With cool bravery both kept their countenances and after a hurried conversation the horses were shifted to the other side and backed up as far as possible towards the bow with the hope of so raising the stern as to stop the flow of water into the hold. The expedient failed!

Still the craft settled down, down, slowly downward until the stern wheel was so low in the water that the treader could scarcely move it. It was an anxious minute! What could be done? Significant glances were exchanged between the only two who knew of the danger and Mr. Shorey pointed to a skiff drawn up on shore. The man in charge dropped the helm and from the bow called to men on the shore to which the ferry was going to bring the skiff. They could not hear. He called again, this time failing to altogether control his voice. The incident attracted Mr. Elliott’s attention and in a moment he too perceived the danger. The water was creeping along the deck from the stern, the treading horse was almost still and the wheel was in the water, below the centre.

Forty feet of water beneath, nothing loose that was floatable except the bow-bar, a cedar pole. Mr. Shorey came forward and suggested that the ladies should get out of the rig preparatory to landing. As they did so, the “skipper” with desperate energy leaned over the stern-bar, grasped a flange of the wheel and pulled. It moved! Flange after flange came up and disappeared. The treader was again in motion and the water-space to shore began to lessen.

A call was again made for the skiff, and heard! Hope revived, the tension on three masculine minds lessened, as the hurrying man neared the boat upon the shore. He reached it but it was chained and locked! Not a word passed, but it was all as clear as volumes could have made it. The suspense intensified, up the shore hill willing feet sped to reach the farm house, get the key and oars and bring relief. Hard at the wheel the muscular arms tugged. Slowly the craft neared the shore. The skiff came and the ladies calmly discussed the scene without a suspicion of danger. A few moments more and the weeds showed under the surface. Now – now the sandy bottom appears; now upon the shore grates the bottom of the boat. Quickly the gang is dropped and lightly the ladies stepped off in blissful ignorance of how near all were to a watery grave. Fifteen minutes of hanging between life and death were happily ended. Not an anxious word spoken, save the boat call. What an experience! What a providential escape!

The Woodcock Ferry, Painting by Orval C. Madden