The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  The captain and first mate bellowed orders to the seamen who raced across the deck and through the rigging, climbing like Barbary apes on the ropes, lowering sails as ordered. The tide was high, perfect for docking at Saint Pierre, a deep-water port, their first stop in the colony.

  But as L’Aigle Doré approached her berth, all eyes turned to the other ship docked there. Concern replaced elation.

  “By all the saints, what happened to them?” Isabelle asked, one hand raised to cover her mouth, her green eyes huge and filled with fear.

  The fire-blackened ship had been in battle, the attack focused on the top portion of the craft. At the front of the vessel the forecastle was gone as were the forward mast, sails, and rigging. The main mast was propped up by posts, with all sails and rigging removed. He watched as men took down the ropes and spars of the aft mast, noting that the quarterdeck, while still there, was badly damaged with whole sections of what would’ve been cabins open to view.

  How the captain had managed to stop the fires from burning all the way through the ship and then steered the vessel into port was a miracle. Guy had seen many ships involved in battle, but never one damaged quite this way. Most surprising was the fact that judging by how high she sat on the water, none of the cannon balls had hit below the waterline.

  He’d recognized the ship the moment he’d seen her, almost having booked passage on her, but L’Aigle Doré had suited him better, and his old commander had asked for his help training the new recruits. La Jeunesse had sailed from Cherbourg the same day they had.

  “She appears to have been attacked,” the gunsmith said, coming up on the deck to get a better look at the ship. “Whoever was aboard is lucky to have made it here alive. There seems to be a great deal of cannon damage. It’s amazing the ship didn’t sink.”

  “Agreed,” Guy said nodding, his eyes drawn to the man’s pale almost gray face which showed more emotion now than it had throughout the entire voyage.

  “God must’ve been on the captain’s side,” Guy continued, curious as to why Giroux was so upset.

  His brow was furrowed deeply, his concerned eyes narrow, and his mouth pinched. As a gunsmith familiar with cannons, the man would’ve seen vessels in worse shape than this one.

  “While I can’t be sure, it seems to be the work of pirates, who for one reason or another didn’t board them and finish them off. Apparently, those scoundrels ply the coast here just as they do back home.”

  “Pirates!” Aline shrieked, her eyes the size of gold coins. She fanned herself with her hand. “You never mentioned pirates.”

  “Is that why the captain and his men were so concerned?” Isabelle whispered. “It wasn’t to watch for icebergs but for this. That’s why he kept more men on duty and removed the soldier guarding the forecastle, isn’t it?” She stepped closer to him.

  He longed to put his arm around her to comfort her and ease her fear, but didn’t dare, not with so many people watching.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.” There was no point in hiding it from her now, especially since the danger was over. “The man on duty in the crow’s nest saw a glow on the horizon and the second mate confirmed it was a ship afire a couple of days before your birthday. For additional safety, the captain’s stayed out of the shipping lane, as he did throughout the voyage, and placed the vessel on high alert.”

  Isabelle nodded, her lips pursed. “It rained that night, and I was certain I’d smelled smoke on the wind.”

  “Is that why we didn’t see any other ships?” Sophie asked. “Because we didn’t sail in the shipping lane?”

  “Yes,” Guy answered. “Now that we aren’t going back out to sea, the rest of our voyage should be safe enough.” He turned to the man beside him who hadn’t taken his eyes off the damaged hulk. “Gerard, you seem upset. Did you know someone aboard that ship?”

  “Me?” the man started guiltily and turned to face him. “No, of course not. How could I? I’m just surprised this happened. La Jeunesse was a passenger ship. I almost sailed on it, but a man offered me a small fortune for my cabin. That’s when I bought my passage on this one. Why would anyone attack a passenger ship? I mean as a warship, we would make a better prize. They were probably afraid to engage us ... but if we weren’t where we should’ve been...” He swallowed nervously. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to secure the cannons being delivered here.”

  Guy frowned and watched him go. The man’s words made little sense. Why would someone overpay for a berth on that ship when L’Aigle Doré had room for more passengers and would arrive only a day or two later?

  He hadn’t taken the gunsmith for a coward, but he’d recognized his fear. He would be thanking all the saints tonight for rescuing him from the fate of those aboard the La Jeunesse. Despite Giroux’s knowledge of weapons, the new colonist wouldn’t be much help in a fight.

  It took almost an hour before the ship’s gangplank was lowered allowing passengers and cargo to leave the vessel. Three of the brides, the “Ettes”, cousins who’d agreed to immigrate once they’d been assured they could stay together, would be remaining here as would twenty soldiers and Father Samuel. Among those who stood on the pier were the three proxy husbands, hoping their brides had survived the trip. The priest led the girls off the ship and introduced the couples.

  Some sailors carried furniture from the forecastle while others brought up the trunks and items stored in the aft hold. All the cargo was placed on deck and would be moved to the dock where they would be loaded into wagons and taken to their new homes.

  Isabelle shuddered beside him.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Isabelle shook her head.

  “No. They don’t look happy, do they?” She indicated the couples standing stiffly side by side. “I can’t imagine being married to a total stranger like that. How do they know they’ll suit one another?”

  The thought of Isabelle with another man stabbed him and jealousy clawed at his belly.

  “They’ll have some time to talk together before their vows are finalized tomorrow,” he answered, conscious of the other women who’d joined them to stay out of the crew’s way. “This isn’t really any different than any other arranged marriage. As a farmer’s daughter, you might have had the chance to marry for love, but among the nobility, it’s a rare thing. Here in New France, you’ll be able to choose your husband, a privilege many Frenchwomen are denied. Look at the queen. Marie Thérèse never even met Louis until her wedding day. She was her father’s way to ensure peace with France, and now she’s the reason for the current hostilities as well, since Louis seeks to claim the Spanish throne in her name.”

  He gazed into Isabelle’s green eyes and saw the glow in them fade. Had she recalled her own short-lived engagement?

  “At least these couples have a day to talk and get to know one another,” he continued, noting the interest on some of the other brides’ faces. “If at the end of that period of time, they feel the marriage won’t work, Father Samuel is empowered to annul the contract. The women won’t stay unmarried for long, but it could be a while before the groom finds another potential wife.”

  Guy noted Isabelle’s pallor as she examined La Jeunesse once more.

  “Do you think it was a bride ship? Monsieur Giroux said it was a passenger vessel.” Her voice mirrored the sorrow on her face.

  “If it was, I hope they survived.” But, judging by the amount and location of the worst of the damage, Guy doubted any passengers had made it off the ship alive. “Come, ladies, it’s our turn to feel the earth under our feet again. Walk slowly. It’ll be far more difficult than you expect.”

  He held out an arm to Isabelle and another to Sophie since Gerard was nowhere to be found, no doubt checking on the cannons being unloaded. Henri materialized at his mother’s side. Guy smiled his thanks, and led the women down the wide gangplank. After almost two months at sea, it was difficult, especially with his limp, to walk with any semblance of dignity.

  Sophie laughed. “It’s
as if the ground is moving. If you weren’t holding me, I would probably fall on my face like a child learning to walk.”

  Isabelle gripped his left arm forcefully as if she were afraid to let him go.

  He spotted Nicolas Denys standing on the dock.

  “Come and meet my old friend, Nicolas. He’s the governor of Canso, the name given to this area.”

  “Guy, what a pleasant surprise!” Nicolas exclaimed, reaching to take his hand. “Don’t tell me that you’re one of my replacement soldiers. I couldn’t be that lucky.”

  “Governor, it’s good to see you,” Guy replied, releasing Sophie to clasp the man’s hand. “No, I’m not one of your men, but I’ve trained them well for you. You’ll find young Sergeant Leblanc is committed to his duties. What happened to this ship? La Jeunesse left Cherbourg around the same time we did. Wasn’t she bound for Quebec?”

  Nicolas nodded. “She was attacked at night about two weeks ago. The captain claims he was able to cripple the aggressor and escape. The ship was gone by morning although he’d expected to be boarded during the night. He must have inflicted considerable damage on it to have them leave him alone like they did. I’ve had carpenters examine the vessel, and while it wasn’t breeched below the waterline, the damage to its top structure is irreparable. It’s a miracle it made it as far as it did.”

  “What about the passengers?” Guy asked.

  “Sadly, all twenty-six passengers and nineteen members of the crew died. The last of the passengers succumbed to her injuries just yesterday, but she never regained consciousness.” He shook his head. “Losing twenty brides will be a bitter blow for New France. With the help of the remaining crew, we managed to identify all the bodies. The saddest situation remains a young woman. It appears she was a married woman traveling under an assumed name. We found an opened note from her husband in her satchel along with a sealed missive for Seigneur Maurice des Courts. I’ll give it to you, and you can take it to Quebec. I’m sure de Courcelle can find him. According to the captain, she bought passage as Irene Desnoyers, but that wasn’t the name on the note.”

  Guy took a moment to digest this information. As he stood beside the governor, they were joined by the priest.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear you, my lord. I’m Father Samuel. I’ve been sent to minister to the colony. Has Brother Mathieu left yet?”

  “Yes, he and his Micmac guides left early yesterday morning after one of my fishing vessels spotted your ship.”

  “I see,” the priest said, his lips pursed. “I’d hoped to meet him. Did he perform the funeral before leaving?”

  “No. The young lady died after he’d left. We put the body in a coffin and waited for your arrival. She deserves a Christian burial.”

  “Of course. What name was on the note? I’ll need it for a death certificate. I take it you signed the others?”

  “I did. The note was addressed to Isabelle. There was no other name.”

  Isabelle tightened her grip on his arm.

  “Now that’s an interesting coincidence,” the priest said. “Before leaving port, our ship almost missed the tide because they were searching for a woman named Isabelle de Caen, who’d apparently run away from her fiancé, the Chevalier d’Angrignon. He was most worried about her. Apparently the woman was a great beauty.”

  “It would indeed be fortuitous if you’d found her, but unfortunately, we’ll never know. Part of her face was badly burned, but enough of that. Welcome to Saint Pierre, Father. I hope your time with us will be more pleasant than this first duty.”

  “Your grace, While I prefer celebrating mass and joining young couples in matrimony, funerals like baptisms are the work of the Lord. I’m but his hands and feet. If your Isabelle is the one they searched for aboard our vessel, we may be able to identify her. The seigneur was acquainted with the lady in question and this young woman is her sister.” The elderly cleric indicated Sophie. “Even disfigured, between the two of them, they should be able to identify her.” He touched Sophie’s hand. “I know you hoped she was safe in France, but if it is her, you’ll want her properly buried and a death certificate issued.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened and filled with tears. She turned to Guy. He read panic on her face. A burned body wouldn’t be a pleasant sight. He glanced at Isabelle. From the glimmer of interest in her eyes, he knew she was considering the matter. She had a hundred questions, but none could be asked now.

  “You told me Isabelle was at the abbey,” Sophie accused, her voice barely above a whisper. She gripped Isabelle’s free hand.

  “It’s what I believed,” he lied. “It may not be her, but we won’t know for sure unless we look. It won’t be pleasant.”

  Of course it wasn’t her, but what if they said it was?

  “Do you think you could identify this girl if she’s Isabelle? I could try to do it alone...”

  Guy’s gaze bore into Sophie’s, begging her to read his mind. The identification would be more believable if she made it. While he was sorry the young woman had died, if they could bury Isabelle de Caen here at Saint Pierre, they could protect Izzy from the wrath of the chevalier and the king.

  Sophie nodded. “If it’s my sister, she deserves to have family look on her one last time before she receives a decent burial. If it isn’t her, then it’s in God’s hands. Where is she, my lord?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

  “In the church.”

  “Then, take me to her, please. The sooner I know for sure, the better I’ll feel. I just hope it isn’t my dear sister.”

  Guy nodded. “I’ll be with you, madame. Family duty is often unpleasant.”

  But if they could save Isabelle, it would be worth it.

  * * *

  Isabelle held Guy’s arm with her left one and Sophie’s hand with her right. Although her cousin had volunteered to identify the body with just Guy by her side, she’d insisted on coming along, knowing how gruesome the task might be.

  As they neared the front of the small sanctuary, a man used a metal bar to pry the lid from the simple wooden casket. The stench of decaying flesh made Isabelle gag. Sophie quickly covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

  “It was exceptionally warm yesterday. Bodies decompose quickly in such weather, and the wooden box isn’t airtight,” the governor said in apology. “Madame, is this your sister?”

  Sophie gripped her hand and leaned forward to scrutinize the woman’s battered face. The right side was a mass of blackened flesh, insects crawling on it, while what was left of the other side was badly bruised, bloated, and discolored. Isabelle’s stomach rebelled, threatening to return the small breakfast she’d had when, as disfigured as the corpse was, she recognized the woman and gasped.

  Guy touched her shoulder and squeezed gently warning her she’d made an audible sound. Sophie glanced at her quickly before turning her eyes on the body once more. What was left of the woman’s hair was a shade of red similar to Isabelle’s natural color, and the chemise she wore was of good quality. In terms of her general size and height, she could easily have passed for her.

  “Yes,” Sophie gulped, her eyes filled with tears. “That’s Isabelle. That’s my sister.”

  “I concur,” Guy confirmed, standing beside her and making the sign of the cross.

  Isabelle glanced at the body once more and uttered a silent prayer for this woman who might just have saved her future.

  Father Samuel bent and anointed the body with holy oil before asking the carpenter to replace the lid on the coffin. The party moved up the aisle and back outside.

  “A few days before we sailed,” Captain St. Jean said, stepping outside into the sunshine once more, “your sister, dressed in black and heavily veiled, arrived at the dock by carriage. She offered me an enormous sum for a cabin aboard the vessel. I told her I had none left, but that there might be some aboard other ships sailing from the various ports around the same time. She thanked me but asked me to contact her should anything change.”

  Isabelle’s thou
ght drifted back to the woman who’d arrived with the chevalier for her father’s funeral and then had vanished, leaving the chevalier to say it had been her.

  “One of my passengers sent a message that he wouldn’t be sailing with me after all, so I contacted her. The poor woman suffered from seasickness most of the way and rarely left her cabin. She paid my boy handsomely to bring her meals and empty her slops each day. The only time we saw her was when she stepped on deck at night for air, and even then, she spoke to no one. Most of what she had was burned, but there was a satchel that escaped the flames since it was under her body. There’s also a large trunk in the hold. I’ll see both items delivered to you.”

  “Thank you, captain.” Sophie offered the man her hand. “I don’t understand why she was aboard your ship. I thought the forthcoming marriage pleased her.” Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. “You have my sympathies for the loss of your crew. Izzy, walk with me. I’d like to tell you about Isabelle. I loved her dearly.”

  Sophie led Isabelle to a small bench overlooking the harbor.

  “You knew her,” she whispered as soon as they were out of earshot. “I heard you gasp when you saw her.”

  Isabelle nodded. “I’ve seen her before, but I can’t place her. Judging by the captain’s description, she could be the woman who arrived with the chevalier for papa’s funeral.” She sniffled. Now wasn’t the time to fall apart. “Thank God we weren’t the ones attacked.”

  “Your father and Pierre must be watching over you,” Sophie said. “You’ve had one close call after another. Why was she traveling under an assumed name?”

  Isabelle frowned. “I hope there’ll be a clue in her belongings, but in the end, it won’t matter. Whoever she was, she’s now Isabelle de Caen.”

  And I’m safe.

  Chapter Fifteen