James Jackson Michael Daniels had been born on Cape Breton and came to be called Jack Daniels early in life which caused his mother, a proud Scottish woman, no end of grief. His father, Chicago born and proud of his Irish heritage, couldn't have been more pleased.
Jack was a wanderer and left the island in his teens to join the Canandian Merchant Marines. After several years of sailing, he returned home to marry the girl he'd left behind and together they settled down to raise a family. Jack had saved his pay packets carefully and planned to build Mary a home overlooking the ocean but wonderlust caught up with him after the second child and he took to the seas again, leaving her with two children, a sea chest full of cash and an ocean view. He signed onto a trawler out of Newfoundland for a couple of years, spent another couple with the scallop fleet out of Digby, and finally ended up on Long Island where he bought a boat and began fishing with the local lobstermen. Barely in his 40's, Cap'n Jack Daniels was a handsome man - tall and well built, dark hair just beginning to gray, he was likeable and good natured and he fit well into the small community. An able seaman and a hard working fisherman, he made friends easily and though taciturn by nature, he did delight the children with his stories. Hearts were broken when he sent for Mary and the boys and took up residence as the lighthouse keeper but the island women took to Mary almost immediately and included her in their lives without reservation.
Cap'n Jack and the bear met one late fall day on a hunting trip. Jack had a buck in his sights, 12 points he was to claim later, and was just about to shoot when there was a crashing through the woods. The deer vanished instantly
and in it's place there appeared a black bear in, according to Jack, a bad mood. The bear saw Jack and both froze for a long moment then each fled in opposite directions, flailing through the woods at full speed. It had been a narrow escape and Jack was still keeping watch over his shoulder when he stepped into the steel jawed trap. He went down and the evil device closed over his leg like a vice, nearly severing his ankle through his clothing. And there he stayed until the Sullivan boys found him, unconscious and half dead from blood loss. Jack's days at sea were over at last.
Mary moved to the mainland so she could visit him every day through the long hospital stay and in the end, he lost his leg at the knee but Jack came home in the spring. The village had built a makeshift elevator sysytem in the lighthouse and he was able to come and go with relative ease. He kept his job as lighthouse keeper until technology
installed an automated system and Mary stayed at his side. We often saw them walking along the coast road at sunset, our landlocked lighthouse keeper on crutches and his wife, both looking out to sea with a mixture of longing and relief, watching the boats coming home at the end of the day. When Jack died, Mary had him cremated and his crutches burned and took both boxes of ashes out to sea and scattered them together. The crew of every fishing boat on Long Island made the trip with her and the rest of us watched from shore as the wind carried the ashes high over the water.
We are tied to the ocean and when we go back to the sea, whether to sail or watch, we are going back from whence we came. John F. Kennedy
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