"When the military forces removed from Drummond Island to Penetanguishene, the government authorities chartered the brig Wellington to carry the soldiers, military and naval supplies, and government stores, but the vessel was too small, and they were obliged to charter the schooner Hackett (Alice) commanded by the owner, Capt. Hackett. On her were placed a detachment of soldiers, some military supplies, and the private property of my father consisting of two span of horses, four cows, twelve sheep, eight hogs, harness and household furniture. A French-Canadian named Lepine, his wife and child, a tavern-keeper named Fraser, with thirteen barrels of whiskey, also formed part of the cargo. The captain and his crew and many of the soldiers became intoxicated, and during the following night a storm arose during which the vessel was driven on a rock (now) known as "Horse Island" (Fitzwilliam), near the southernmost point of Manitoulin Island. The passengers and crew in a somwhat advanced stage of drunkeness managed to reach the shore in safety; also one horse, some pork, and the thirteen barrels of whiskey, though the whole company were too much intoxicated to entertain an intelligent idea of the operation, but were sufficiently conscious of what they were doing to secure the entire consignment of whiskey. The woman and her infant were left on the wreck, as her husband, Pierre Lepine, was on shore drunk among the others, too oblivious to realize the gravity of the situation, or to render any assistance. Mrs. Lepine, in the darkness and fury of the storm, wrapped the babe in a blanket and, having tied it on her back, lashed herself securely to the mast, and there clung all night long through a furious storm of wind and drenching rain, from eleven o'clock till daylight, or about six o'clock in the morning, when the maudlin crew, having recovered in a measure from their drunken stupor, rescued her from her perilous position in a yawl boat. Such an experience on the waters of Lake Huron, in the month of November, must have certainly bordered on the tragical. The vessel and remainder of the cargo proved a total loss. The lurching of the schooner from side to side pitched the big cannon down the hatchway, going clear through the bottom, thus, together with pounding on the rocks, completed the wreck.
The horse, a fine carriage roadster, remained on the island for years. My father offered a good price to anyone who would bring him away, but he never got him back, and he finally died on the island. This circumstance gave it the name Horse Island.
The infant lived to grow up and marry among the later settlers, but I do not remember to whom, neither do I know what became of her. Fraser, who owned the whiskey, started a tavern in Penetanguishene, near the garrison cricket-ground...my father came to Penetanguishene in another vessel with the officers and soldiers. The rest of the family left Drummond Island the next spring (1829). We started on the 25th of June and arrived at Penetanguishene on the 13th of July, coming by bateau around by the north shore, and camping every night on the way. My mother, brother Henry and his wife and eight children, myself, Joseph Gurneay and his wife and two hired men to assist (Francis Gerair, a French-Canadian, and Gow-Bow, an Indian) all came in one bateau. We camped one night at the Hudson's Bay Company's fort at Killarney."