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on his plate. And nobody wanted Mabel to travel on her own with a baby in tow. So he offered to accompany Kay, Mabel, and baby Alayne to Halifax. Ralph’s chivalry—which had always been second nature to him—was no doubt influenced by a desire to get off the island, far from the close confines of the house, and away from lousy job offerings. Mostly, away from his father.
    They boarded the SS
Lovat
and steamed off to Pictou, Prince Edward Island. The steamship had a few staterooms, though none were particularly stately. The three adults and the baby had a small bunk bed and a couch by the window, neither of which were terribly comfortable. But the room did offer some privacy and was a noise barrier between them and the other passengers. Six-month-old Alayne was colicky and inconsolable.
    The Gulf of St. Lawrence is typically a rough waterway. The winds off the north Atlantic sweep through and bear down on the boats with no mercy. The trip across the straight was plagued by these fierce winds. At night, Mabel was able to get Alayne down to sleep on the bottom bunk, so Ralph slipped up to the top bunk to try to get a few hours of rest before the baby woke again. In the middle of his slumber, Ralph was thrown out of his bunk with great force. He awoke in a standing position in the middle of the stateroom, staring into the dark. There was an eerie silence on the ship. The engine had stopped completely. He could hear only the wind and the water lashing up against the metal hull. Alayne somehow slept on. Ralph feared that the ship had hit something or a U-boat had hit them. A flash of panic came over him as he stood there in silence, at attention, waiting for something to react to.
    Mabel sat up on the lower bunk and Kay awoke on the couch. They all waited in silence.
    Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
, they heard. Water was swirling around the vessel.
    Kay whispered, “Are we sinking?”
    Mabel scrambled to her feet, instinctively snatching Alayne from the bed and clutching her. Kay joined them and they huddled together around their main protector—a skinny seventeen-year-old boy. Finally, the engines roared back to life. A wave had pushed the bow so high that the rudders had come clear out of the water and tripped off. As her fear subsided, Mabel mentioned that she had not heard Ralph get out of bed. This would not be the last time my grandfather landed—miraculously—on his feet.
    When they arrived in Pictou, Ralph said he hoped he would not see the SS
Lovat
again for some time.
    They boarded a train to Truro to visit the McArthurs, who had left the Magdalen Islands a few years back to set up a cattle farm. The McArthurs had done well and had enough room to comfortably put up the four visitors. Ralph sent word back home that they had arrived in Pictou almost without incident and were en route to Truro, where they would be staying for the next week or so. Alayne was especially colicky and Mabel was happy to rest for a little while.
    They all sat down to a beautiful meal of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, caramelized carrots, and creamy whipped P.E.I. potatoes. (Ralph was a connoisseur of the humble potato.) Mr. McArthur asked Ralph if he’d like to bless the meal. Ralph already had his hands joined above his empty plate.
    “Dear Jesus,” he said, “thank you for this food, bless it to our bodies. Thank you for our safe travels and for the time we can all spend together. Dear Jesus, bless our little Alayne. Keep her safe and bless her father. Please keep Douglas safe over Europe’s skies. In your name, we pray. Amen.”
    “Amen,” the table responded in unison.
    With that, they dug into the meal with a clanging of utensils, passing of serving dishes, offers to pass the salt, the milk, the butter, more potatoes, and praises to the cook. The night ended with a game of cards, but the prayer was needed. The next day would be the most difficult of Mabel’s life.
    Ralph woke to his favourite breakfast, a soft-boiled egg with