Samuel pulled his hat low on his forehead, praying it hid his face as he approached the general store. He pulled the collar on his coat up higher and glanced behind him, for the first time thankful for the bitter cold. It was too cold to linger on the streets of Port Maitland. The few villagers out were hunkered down and all about business.  

Samuel hesitated at the storefront, trying to see through the frosted windowpane. He glanced down at the folded piece of paper clenched in his frozen fingers. He couldn’t bear to leave the country without some word, some ray of hope, some reassurance of his love. He needed her to know that no matter how desperate the situation looked, his heart remained steadfast, his love for her firm. For that, Samuel was willing to risk everything. He needed to beg an envelope and stamp from the store clerk.

His eyes flittered over the words on the paper. “My dear Libby, I am well, but how I wish I were with you now. Be strong, my girl… all was necessary. You know my heart. I give you my word, I will contact you again when I am able and send for you soon. All my love, S”

But a cog in the wheel, he had done his duty, been loyal to his word. The only regret that lingered in his mind as he reflected on the past weeks was his inability to sway the momentum. The cause was true and the need for justice was as strong as ever. It was time the voice of every citizen was heard in the halls of this country’s government. ‘Government for the people, by the people’. He believed it as strongly as he had before. Canada would yet be free.

The clerk gave the stamp and envelope freely and Samuel didn’t dare linger in the store’s warmth. As he turned to go, his eyes rested on the paper taped to the wall. His own face stared back at him. ‘Five hundred pounds for S. Lount. Tall man, say 6ft or rather more. Long face, sallow complexion, black hair with some grey in it – very heavy, dark eyebrows. Speaks rather softly.’ He broke into a sweat under his layers of homespun clothes. He needed glanced anxiously at the clerk who was busy at the counter, his hand involuntarily covering his eyebrows. There was no longer any doubt, they needed to leave today. He paused at the door to allow another customer through, eyes briefly meeting. Was there a spark of recognition in the stranger’s eyes? Samuel’s nerves were on edge. The sooner they were on their way, the better. He jogged to the end of the street where Matthews held their horses. “We need to get ourselves a boat.” Samuel swiftly mounted his horse. “They’ve a wanted paper hanging in the store. They’re looking for us! I asked at the store, and the girl said we aren’t far from the harbour. Let’s see what we can find down there. We’ve no use for these horses any longer. Maybe we can make a trade.”

Peter nodded. “I’m glad we didn’t stay with Mackenzie.” After the disastrously brief battle, the rebel leaders had unanimously decided to scatter to the four winds. Lieutenant-Governor Sir Francis Bond had been ruthless in his pursuit of the rebels, immediately imprisoning Van Egmond and promising severe repercussions to all who were involved. When the men had met just outside the city, Mackenzie had urged them to escape with him. He planned to cross the Niagara River with Chandler, a wagoneer of Short Hills, and regroup on Navy Island. Matthews and Lount had decided to take their chances crossing Lake Erie at Port Maitland, hoping to find safety on the American shores.

Already a price for his capture, Samuel knew he wasn’t safe anywhere, and he was not willing to place his fate in the hands of William MacKenzie again. “I was quite finished with following that man’s commands.” Recalling the notice in the store, Samuel was glad now he didn’t try to go home. He prayed they were safe.

Coaxing their tired horses into a run, the two rebels made it to the shoreline in short order. They found an old man pulling his rowboat onto the shore by the water’s edge. “Hey there, good sir!” Samuel jumped from his horse and strode quickly over. “Can we give you these horses in exchange for your boat?”

The man studied Samuel in surprise. “What do you be needing a boat for?” He eyed their tired appearance suspiciously. “I’d not be going out there in this weather.”

Samuel looked at the sky in surprise. It was grey but not threatening.  “The horses are tired but of excellent stock. It’s more than fair.”

The man examined the horses and eyed the rebels warily before shrugging and slowly nodding in agreement. “It’s not my business what you are up to.” He seemed pleased with the offer and eager to leave before the conditions changed.

As though they were planning a casual row on a sunny afternoon, Samuel attempted to hide his desperation with an indifferent tone. “How long to get across?”

The man’s weathered face contorted into a scowl. “This ain’t the weather to be headin’ across in,” he repeated his earlier warning. When neither of the men responded, the old man looked out across the broad body of water. “I couldn’t say. I’ve never done it. Just be watchin’ out for the ice, can break a boat into pieces in minutes…” He stroked his chin slowly as though assessing their skill with a boat. “And mind the shallow waters off Mohawk Island. Beware, these winds can change in minute.” His duty complete, he turned his attention to the horses, eager to be done with the exchange and not willing to be responsible for the outcome of their reckless plans.

The ice had formed along the shoreline of Lake Erie. Matthews and Lount stumbled over the uneven surface, carrying the heavy rowboat between them. A brisk north wind worked in their favour. “It’ll be hard to get it past the ice!” Matthews shouted the wind carrying his words. The horizon was grey seamlessly merging sky with the water. Darkness was quickly descending.

“We’ll want to hurry. Once it’s dark, we will have no hope of keeping our bearings if this cloud cover remains. We need to put water between us and the shore!” Samuel shuddered, the spray of the water quickly turning his pant legs into trunks of ice. This was going to be a long night. The faint outline of the American shores on the southeastern horizon gave hope to his defeated spirits. “It doesn’t look that far… if the wind stays in our favour, we could reach land in a day’s time. If we can just keep the boat moving in the right direction!”

After an intense struggle, the boat floated with the two exhausted men oars in hand. “That was much harder than I expected. No wonder that fellow was so sceptical.” Peter said breathlessly, adrenaline fueling his deep strokes. Samuel could only grunt in agreement.

The wind pushed them along and consistent rowing moved them well onto the lake. Silence reigned as their arms ached with unaccustomed use, and it took all their energy to keep rowing. Hours passed before they paused to rest. “We can’t both keep this up all night. We need some rest… it’s been days since we have slept longer than fifteen minutes at a time.” Samuel rubbed his shoulders to loosen the knots. “As long as the wind keeps like this, we need to take the time to get some sleep. I’ll keep us in the right direction for an hour or so while you sleep, and then you take a turn with the oars.” Peter had no energy to argue and gratefully passed his oar over, eagerly laying his body down on the boat’s bottom. Samuel slowed his rowing pace, and his eyes wandered up to the night sky.

Stars twinkled overhead. The wind had swept the grey clouds away, revealing the majesty of the night sky. His eyes traced the line of Orion’s belt. If he kept that to his left, they would be alright. The night was now still, and his thoughts drifted to home where he knew the fire would burn bright. He could see his loved ones, the little boys, freshly washed and dressed for bed. His strapping sons coming in from evening chores, cheeks ruddy and voices boisterous, one constantly jiving to outdo the other. His lovely wife, reading a story to the younger ones, while Mary flittered about cleaning up the supper dishes. The ache in his stomach grew. How long would it be before he was with them again? In the dampness that chilled his bones, it felt impossible.

It would soon be Christmas. Samuel was certain he wouldn’t be home for Christmas. He loved Christmas, a season marked with the joy of gift-giving, and the warmth of loved ones as they celebrated, remembering the birth of the Saviour. He began rowing in earnest as he thought about that first Christmas so many years ago. At a time in history not unlike their own, ripe with political oppression and religious darkness, when the One who hung those very stars in place had become a babe in Bethlehem.

He had always felt an affinity to Joseph, and even more so in his current outlaw state. Mary’s news of pregnancy must have hit the man like a ton of bricks, yet he kept his calm. Samuel admired that in a man and strove after it in himself. A just man, steady in the face of trouble. Unshakeable. Instead of subjecting Mary to shameful disgrace or even death, Joseph plans to put her away quietly. Until he hears word from God: “Do not be afraid”. What that must have been like… having an angel give word on what he should do? Samuel grunted to himself. An angel visitation would be nice right about now, a little miracle from heaven. Yet, the angel’s word didn’t make the trouble Joseph and Mary faced go away. “Do not be afraid”. In the strength of those words, faithful living became manageable. The path forward not an easy one, but did Joseph see it? Could he believe it? Could he trust that in the darkness of the impossible God was providing the way of salvation? That when things seemed humanly hopeless, God was working out a plan so much greater than a mere mortal could imagine. That his faithful obedience would play a part in bringing about the cure to the curse of the ages? Samuel stopped rowing, his mind pondering. What humble obedience did such an awesome God require of him? “To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with my God.” Samuel’s words broke the stillness. Faithful living, that was his responsibility. The outcome was up to God. “He is God. I am not.”

Samuel’s words woke Peter from his restless sleep. “It’s my turn, is it?” he drowsily wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Not quite like home,” he gestured to the bottom of the boat.

Samuel willingly gave over control of the boat. Laying his weary body down, his thoughts became worship as he again studied the stars. His mind at peace, deep sleep descended swiftly.

He woke with a start. The boat was rocking precariously. Wet snow had soaked through his coat. “Matthews!” He shouted, disoriented. “Matthews? Where are we?”

Matthews woke with a start. “Ahh. I must have drifted off,” he mumbled. “I just rested my eyes for a minute. How long have we been drifting?”

The wind had shifted, tossing the boat about, driving the falling snow in all directions. They could barely see beyond the edge of the boat. “Which way is south?” Samuel shouted. Both men frantically peered into the wild night. “We’ve no way to know. Just row, man. Row.” With no sense of time, the minutes dragged on, feeling like hours. The darkness extended all around them. A coldness yet unknown soaked into their bones as waves splashed over the sides of the boat, soaking their feet.

A knot of fear churned within. Do not be afraid?! Even in this? The words felt flat in the storm’s uncertainty.  

“What is that ahead? Does it look like land? Are my eyes deceiving me?”

“Let’s hope it’s real. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. Are those rocks? Or ice?” The desperation of their situation became even clearer.

“Help us!” Peter shouted into the oblivion of the night. They struggled onward. Stopping meant certain death.

“I see a light!” Samuel pointed. His coat frozen, he could not straighten his arm fully. A light shone at them from the shore. “I’ve no way of knowing where we are, but we’ve no choice but to call for help.”

Exhausted, the men called out as they rowed to the light.

“Bring her in here!” A voice pierced the darkness. “It’s safe here, eh.”

 Samuel and Peter struggled to follow, hearts anxious with apprehension. Was this a friend or foe? Had they made it to safety after all, or were they returning to where they had come? The boat safely on shore at last, the men fell exhausted to the ground.

“What is heaven’s name were you doin’ out in this weather?! You must be smugglers for sure! No man in his right mind would be out on the lake in this gale.” A light shone on their faces and both men shielded their eyes. “It’s always the dumb ones willing to risk their lives to earn a few bucks. You two look desperate enough to be smugglers. We’ve had a time of it with the likes of you trying to smuggle salt through, eh. You got salt in that boat?” He looked behind the men at the rowboat. “No matter, I’m bringing you in.”

The snow continued to fall thickly. Samuel and Peter struggled to stand in their frozen clothing, their legs unwilling to work.

“What did you get then, Jim?” another voice came through the darkness. A burly man in uniform held the swinging lantern close to their faces. “I should be home in my bed yet, and here I am freezing my tush off chasing around the likes of—” he paused and returned the lantern to Samuel’s face. “Well, well. What have we here?” he chuckled menacingly. “I’ve seen this bloke’s picture before. Just came across my desk today. You’re one of them rebels tried to take over the country, eh? It’s our lucky day, Jim. They got money on this fella’s head.”

Jim peered into Samuel’s face. “Ye don’t say?” he marveled. “Well, that’ll make the missus happy. She gets so grumpy when I’m called out from my bed in the middle of the night.”

A powerful gust of wind blew the hat from Samuel’s head and into the water. Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out his old red nightcap. He placed it securely on Samuel’s head. “We surely don’t need him getting sick before we collect our due!” The men’s laughter was mocking. “Looks like we pulled from his dreams!”

Samuel stayed silent in the face of their torment. They had not made it to the other side. His body was so tired, his heart heavy with despair, his mind almost refused to work. It was over then. They had been captured. Despite it all, they had been captured. Samuel felt the tears course down his cheeks.

A loud clap resounded in the night sky. The captors peered up, cowering in fright. “What was that?!” Jim questioned. “Was that thunder?!”

“Didn’t sound like thunder to me.”

“It must have been thunder… what else could it be?” Jim’s voice quivered. “Thunder in the dead of winter… that’s a bad sign.”

Samuel was sure it was not thunder. He had heard it clearly. “Do not be afraid.” Courage flooded his heart, his shoulders squared, his head lifted. He had done what was required of him. He would leave the future in the hands of his faithful God.

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