Incident in Beacon Hill Park

By Peter A. Morris

I love the fact that I have a choice, within easy walking distance of our apartment, of the park or the waterfront, the harbour or downtown. Each one is an adventure of one kind or another!

This day I had chosen the park, mainly because there was a gale blowing and the park gave some protection from the cold blast.

I like the park in winter, as there are very few people around. It makes one feel as if this is a deserted island with one's ship lying at anchor in a protected bay and one were making observations and taking notes as did the navigators in times past. Looking around, searching for some sign of wild life, I let my mind wander and imagine.

"Hello," a voice loudly called from just behind me. I jumped around, startled out of my reverie "What brings you here on such a day!" I was facing a man slightly shorter than my six foot height, and dressed in period costume. "Hello," I said "It's a good day to be ashore Billy! (one of my favorite expressions) I'm just enjoying the gale and glad not to be out there in it!" I pointed out to sea. "How about you? Looks as though you're ready for a performance." Then I thought, surely they don't have shows in the park this time of year, but then, what did I know? "I'm not Billy. He is still aboard. I am Alfred, and yes it is something of a performance getting prepared for yet another day."

We bantered on in this manner for a time, how long I am not sure but we exchanged information with each other and I felt quite at home chatting with him. He was from the county of Devonshire in England, and this was his first time visiting Canada's West Coast. He wanted to know what had brought me to the area and where did I find the fine topcoat that I was wearing, the first of its kind he had ever seen and was it costly? I was wearing a quite common type of winter jacket with a hood. "That is the type of apparel we should have aboard, as this, he said shaking in his own clothing, is too damn cold for this weather."

And so we went on talking. He was interested to know that I had lived in the part of England he came from. I mentioned a favorite pub of mine and the name of the owner. "You are mistaken," he said, "There is no such establishment in that village, and I have never heard of a landlord with that name. Are you sure it is Newton Ferrers of which you speak? For I was there just four years ago when we delivered our last load of tobacco and remember nothing of such a place!"

I was starting to get quite confused now. Alfred was behaving like he was acting out a play or at least that is how it appeared to me. What with the wind and my poor hearing I felt as though I was in a dream. Suddenly, Alfred was gone! One second he was there, the next he had disappeared. I looked around, wondering if I had imagined the whole episode. A man and woman were climbing up the hill towards me and when they reached the spot where I was sheltering out of the weather, the fellow said, "Wow, what a day!" Then, after he had caught his breath said "Hey, who was that guy you were talking to? He looked like something out of a history book! Is there a show happening around here?"