By the time the Mounties arrived in the village - on horseback, in full uniform and armed to the teeth - every last still had been shut down and every bootlegger had fled without a trace. The island had been warned well in advance of the first ferry crossing, as usual, and the impressive troop of mounted officers might have left empty handed but for Old Hat - the old woman had a special place in her heart for the law and was inclined to shoot first and ask questions later. Her first volley sent the lead Mountie's wide brimmed hat sailing into the wind - her second blew it to pieces.
What in tarnation..... Sparrow bellowed from his tiny kitchen, so startled he dropped the cast iron skillet, very nearly striking the old hound dog a fatal blow and ruining a perfectly good batch of scrambled eggs. He ran for the front porch, snatching his hat and shotgun in mid-stride and then stopping short at the sight of a dozen uniformed men and horses scattering like dandelions in a strong breeze. In the moment it took him to process what he was seeing, a dozen guns were suddenly trained on him - he instantly put his own aside and raised his hands with a violent shout of Don't shoot! Mother of God, don't shoot! There was a shaky pause before yet another shot rang out, this one striking perilously near his muddy boots and sending a shower of splinters into the air. He dropped to his knees with a crash and a loud curse, expecting his life to start flashing before his eyes at any moment - then he heard a voice he knew, a cackling, high pitched voice - One step closer and I reckon it'll be your last, mister man, now git off'n my land! To his dismay, he saw Old Hat, shotgun raised and smoking, advancing toward what he now realized was a troop of law enforcement officers. God Almighty, Hattie, this at the top of his lungs,They're the law! Put that damn thing down!
A new voice, firm with authority, command, and a touch of youth. Ma'am, this the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and we are placing you under arrest for unlawful discharge of a firearm!
A shriek of wild laughter, In a pigs eye, you little piss ant! Hattie screeched and fired another round.
Ma'am, the young voice, now almost pleading, We will return fire if we have to! Please lower your weapon!
Hattie! Sparrow had gotten to his knees and crawled to what he hoped was out of range, Lavinia May Louella
Hatfield! You put that shotgun down 'fore somebody gits their damn fool head blown off! Ain't no need for any of us to get hurt! Half crawling, half crouching, he began to make his way down the grass and gravel path toward the pinned down Mounties, only dimly aware that in his haste he'd forgotten his eye patch and that he was still in his longjohns. Leastways I got my boots on,he thought forlornly as the whine of a bullet passed overhead and blew out a window in Bernie's candy store. Hattie! he hollered desperately, You quit that now! He reached the Mounties, got raggedly to his hands and knees, just as a shot rang out, ricocheted off a boulder and lodged in a submerged ditch log a foot away.
Ma'am! Mrs. Hatfield! the young Mountie yelled, You're outgunned and surrounded! For the last time, lower your weapon!
Iffin you can't lie any better'n that, boy, you ain't got much of a future! Hattie shrieked back,Now you git on them horses and hightail it outta here or I aim to part your hair with the next one!
By that time, a subdued but curious crowd had gathered albeit a respectful distance away - no one underestimated Old Hat's temper, not to mention her marksmanship, and the collective wisdom favored her by a considerable margin. The Mounties, however, had training, numbers, and firepower on their side, as well as a reputation to preserve - a rear action was ordered and two of them were sent up Sparrow's path, around the house and through the back pasture to Hattie's back door. While the young man in charge continued negotiations and Uncle Willie was dispatched up island to fetch Hattie's sister, two Mounties crept through the cabin, worked their way to the front yard and unceremoniously jumped the old woman in mid-aim, tackling her to the ground and disarming her.
Nearly ninety, no more'n a hunnerd pounds soaking wet, Sparrow was heard to say, And she fought like a damn wild cat and screamed like a banshee.
And so ended the standoff at Fish Point in the summer of 1951 - Old Hat was arrested, handcuffed, incarcerated in the mainland jail for thirty days and ordered to make restitution for the RCMP hat but her reputation had been enhanced and by the time the story had made the rounds and rebounded to the village, tourists were told a tale of her having kept an entire regiment of Canadian regulars at bay for three days with only a single shot pistol and an iron will.
Without the incompatibility of truth and fiction, legends would be few and far between, Uncle Bernie declared as he patched the candy store window, The truth of a good story is most always in the details and the decoration.
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