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On May 10th, 1772, the good ship "Alexander" from Tobermory, with 210 emigrants from Uist and the mainland, arrived in Prince Edward Island. Among them were Michael McDonald of South Uist, Robert Innes, mason, of Blair-Athole, Hugh McEachern, Wife and family (except Angus, who afterwards became the first Bishop of P.E. Island) of Moidart, and Allan Ban McDonell of Glengarry. Michael, Robert, and Allan Ban married, about the same time, daughters of Hugh McEachern, and became the very first settlers of Judique. This settlement took place in 1787. Prior, however, to this date, Michael McDonald, whose "strange adventures, happ'd by land and sea" would, if written, read like a volume of romance, had frequently landed on the coast, partially explored it, and finally selected Judique as the most desirable locality. As we shall see further on, he had passed, all alone, and surrounded only by hostile Indians, a whole winter here. In the spring of 1787 and subsequently he was joined from P.E. Island by as noble a band of pioneers as ever crossed the Atlantic. These were, besides the families of McInnes and McDonell above mentioned, his own brother-in-law, Ewen Og McEachern; a son-in-law, Alexander McDonald of Rettland; John Graham, a veteran of the American revolutionary war, and, like his namesake, Sir John Graham, the friend of Wallace, "a hardy wight and wise" and latterly, by big John Cameron - Judique's first merchant - a man as remarkable for his bold, adventurous spirit and tragic death as he was rough in mien and giantlike in stature. All these took up large blocks or tracts of land, side by side, in central or Grand Judique, that is to day, along the shore from "Rudha ban Inseannagh" or Indian Point to Judique Banks. Michael McDonald himself took up the block of land now occupied by Hugh Christopher McDonald and Mrs. D. McDonell, Post master. The portion occupied now by the latter he sold to big John Cameron above mentioned. Ewen Og McEachern took up 630 acres on Indian Point. He built his house near the brook - "Alt Ewen Og"- where the buildings of Angus McDonell, blacksmith now stand. The said brook is called after him, not as is commonly supposed, after Hugh Og McLean. McEachern soon sold his claim for 120, to Thomas McDonell and Donald McDonald, ancestors of the present owners.

Robert McInnes took up the land on which his grandsons now reside - a block of 400 acres.

With the new settlers, there came also from P.E. Island a few others who took up lands but soon sold them. Among them were Ronald McDonald Rettland, uncle of Alex, McDonald Rettland; and Hugh Gillis of East Point. Ronald secured 495 acres, which subsequently became the property of Allan Ban McDonell. Hugh Gillis, who took up the adjoining 440 acres, sold it to Alex McDonald Rettland. The present glebe farm - the block originally being over 400 acres - was taken up by Donald Og Gillis. The next block, 500 acres, to the southward, was taken up by the fine old soldier already mentioned, John Graham, a sketch of whom will be given in the proper place.

Behold then this infant settlement - a cradle Hercules - endeavoring to nestle in the forest plateau between the mountains and the sea, exposed to the breme blasts of winter, with but the most primitive means of shelter and subsistence; and at a period too in the world's history when even the sea was less safe than the Indian-thronged forests. For not infrequently did its blue and serene bosom bear marks of the frothy and bloody trails of those murderous sleuth-hounds of uncivilized warfare, French, and English, and Yankee privateers. Nor did the English flag flying from an undoubted English masthead, carry any assurance of freedom or protection; the infamous "press- gang" was there in its heyday. Time and again were pioneers forced, on the appearance in the offing of ship of war, to betake themselves into the depths of the woods, leaving their nets, fish, and everything else, until the dreaded craft was seen to disappear.

Then, our whole coast, extending between the Strait of Canso and Cheticamp, was at best but "a howling wilderness," roamed only by that strange race of yore-now, however, all but "blotted from the things that be." Few, small, and far-between were the signs of incipient clearings - scathed patches in the forest, bald, weatherbeaten brows of mountains, bits of barren and rocks made the only breaks in the wildwood monotony. At Cheticamp and Margaree, however, there were vestiges of abandoned settlement, while the ruins of a dismantled fort were to be seen at Justaucorp (Port Hood). In the dark legends of Indian-French and Anglo-Yankee wars, there was much - "Many a tale of sad reality" - calculated to add "a browner horror" to the picture; and not unoften would a now rather ramshackled but whilome (former) "brave" stride into one of the log huts of the new white settlers, and begin to recount his own and his tribe's feats of strength, embroidered with blood-curdling stories of scalping. In the winter of 1798, one of the ablest and most notorious Indians on the island, who served alike under the French and English in the recent wars, and didn't in reality care a rush for either, arrived in Judique. "Louis" was his name. Allan Ban MacDonell had just commenced to do some little business. Louis, like the most of his tribe, was fond of firewater, and suspecting that Allan Ban must have some, one day, as a few of the neighbors, among them big John Cameron and Alexander Rettland, were at Allan's house, the savage brave strode in among them! The brute was armed to the teeth; but they, though unarmed, were Highland and three to one. They didn't funk (cowering fear) worth a bawbee (a halfpenny). Nay, one of them didn't hesitate to offer his a "hooter" of rum, which quickly disappeared down the Indian's throat. Straightway Louis began to hector, and boast of the number of scalps he had taken. Cameron, who had been badly disappointed about lumber and furs promised him by the Indians of the Point, derided Louis, declaring he should like to see him try to scalp Rettland or himself. This made Louis mad; but in a little while, pretended he had got over it. Just them, Rettland sat on top of a stump near the house, and called out: "Louis, come here and try it for fun on me- for fun, mind!" With a hyenalike smile, Louis approached, brandished his knife, gave a low yelp, danced a bit; circled round and round the stump, singing, now a yell, with a little thump with his left to Rettland's head, then a diabolic medley of whoops, yells, kicks in the air, cuffs to Rettland's head brandishing of the knife; more circling and infernal singing, then all at once, with frothing mouth, eyes luridly gleaming, he precipitates himself in a paroxysm in a torrent of tantrums on - on - but a sledge-hammer blow from big John Cameron's fist suddenly sends the demoniac savage to grass! Louis, as fast as he could, gathered himself together, and without saying a word, left. The three pioneers merely laughed - yes, that rare, echoless, weird laugh, which is a sure presage of future trouble. And so indeed it was; but this is not the time nor the place for the details of that tragic sequel.