A couple weeks ago, I started telling you about the Pig War,
an engagement between Britain and the U.S. in my own backyard, and asked you who
you’d root for. I must admit I felt more affinity for English Camp than
American Camp when I visited San Juan Island recently. Maybe it’s the
anglophile in me.
But look at that vista.
English Camp is situated on a sheltered bay at the northwest
corner of the island. The beach leads to a wide meadow that served as a parade
ground. The British marines and soldiers cleared that ground and built neat
white structures such as a commissary, hospital, and enlisted men’s barracks as
well as a solid blockhouse that still stands on the very edge of the stony
shore. They also built fancier houses for the officers, surgeon, and commander
on a bluff overlooking the water.
At one time, the western edge of the meadow contained the
enlisted men’s vegetable garden, where they grew potatoes, carrots, and greens.
But Captain Delacombe, the second commanding officer, insisted that it be moved
elsewhere and replaced it with a traditional English boxwood-hedged garden so
his wife could view it from her lofty veranda. One story claims the garden
appeased her homesickness for England. She had come with him to these far
shores, bringing their three children.
One of the things the Brits found when they first arrived
was a huge mound of shells left by the Coast Salish people, who had lived on
the space for generations before. The military men ground up the shells and
used them to line the paths between buildings, further giving the space a neat,
clean appearance. When the Marines proved fractious from the inactivity, their
captain set them to work mining limestone and building kilns to burn it into
lime, which was shipped back to England for use in making cement, mortar, and
fertilizer.
The two sides were remarkably civil to each other. The Brits
invited the American soldiers to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday. The
American’s reciprocated with a grand celebration on Independence Day. They’d
host athletic contests and treat the community to a dance.
During the 13 years at the site, no men were lost that I
have been able to find. But the story was different at American Camp. Come back
next week to learn why.
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