Haunted Harbours by Steve Vernon Page A

old Thomas Haliburton still walks these halls and winds his clocks, but that tale belongs to another story entirely.
    There is a pond not far from Haliburton House and there is a tale that the locals have been telling for years.
    Long before it was called the “birthplace of hockey,” Windsor was known as Pesaquid, a Mi’kmaq term meaning “junction of waters.” This name referred to the convergence of the Avon and St. Croix rivers which flow into the Bay of Fundy.
    The British blockhouse of Fort Edward was built and fully garrisoned in the mid-1700s in Windsor and it is here that we first pick up our tale.
    His name was Jamie Donaldson, and he was a piper in the Highland Regiment. He’d been stationed at Fort Edward for some time, and while he was there he fell madly in love with a miller’s daughter. Her true name is unknown but for the sake of this story we’ll call her Donnalee Jenkins. Let’s make her beautiful, as all great loves are, give her curly hair, the colour of a raven’s wing, with eyes as sharp as needles and painted the pale haunting blue of summer forget-me-nots.
    Every night while he was supposed to be keeping watch Jamie would meet his lover by the pond. It was a dangerous business, skipping out on his duty, but he was young and reckless and madly in love. Soon, orders came down and Jamie Donaldson’s regiment was scheduled to ship out.
    â€œI’ll run away with you,” Donnalee Jenkins swore.
    They made a pact to meet that night by the pond, but as fate would have it, the young piper was caught trying to sneak over the wall. He was fortunate that it was only a sergeant who caught him trying to slip away with a bouquet of incriminating forget-me-nots in his hand, picked from beside the stockade wall; his bagpipes were tucked under the other arm.
    â€œAnd where do you think you are going?” the sergeant asked. “It’s a wee bit late for the picking of wildflowers.”
    Jamie opened his mouth and closed it, trying to remember how to speak, but the sergeant only smiled.
    â€œGot yourself a wee colleen, do you now?”
    Jamie shrugged and sheepishly grinned.
    â€œAnd are you going off to say goodbye to her one last time before we ship out?”
    â€œThat’s it,” Jamie said. “One last time before we ship out.”
    The sergeant fixed him with a gaze as sharp as any bayonet.
    â€œAnd you wouldn’t be harbouring any wild notions about running off and deserting your post, now would you?”
    â€œOh no, sergeant, sir,” James said, shaking his head so hard he thought it might fall off. “Nothing of the kind.”
    The sergeant’s face darkened like a storm cloud. “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, boy. I work for a living,”
    And then he let slip another smile.
    â€œI’m thinking that this post might be a wee bit overprotected. Perhaps it’s best if you take some air while I keep an eye out for hostiles. Mind you, be back before roll call. If the captain catches you out playing tomcat, it’ll be both of our heads that roll in the dirt.”
    So over Jamie went, clambering down the rope he’d slung with the help of the kind-hearted sergeant who lowered his bagpipes down to him. The forget-me-nots were tucked into a pocket in his tunic. Off he went, headed for the pond where Donnalee stood waiting.
    Only she hadn’t waited. The sergeant’s untimely delay had held her lover up just long enough for Donnalee to lose hope.
    â€œHe’s not coming,” she said. “They’ve caught him and they’ve hanged him, or he just doesn’t love me enough.”
    She walked six times around the pond as she waited, before finally working up her courage enough to do what she had in mind. She laid her baggage down and picked up a large chunk of granite. Using the ribbons from her hair she tied her skirt up around the rock. Then, holding the dress-bound granite in her