by Bruce Murray
That evening we sat around the fire to hear the tale. All the children were there to listen, too. It was particularly important for Madeleine’s family to relive the story in the presence of their cousins; it was their story as well. Charles’s grandchildren sat enthralled as Madeleine and Grand Pierre told the tale: Charles, aged seventeen; Hilaire, thirteen; Isaie, ten; Jean, six; and baby Pierre-David, one. They were joined by my children: Madeleine, aged twenty-six; Jeanne, twenty-four; Theotiste, nineteen; Agnes, sixteen; Rosalie, thirteen; Felicity, eleven; Jospiau, eight; and Ludivine, four.
Grand Pierre began, “I was at the shipyards with my father-in-law, Charles, when the Pembroke arrived in the harbour in early December. All the other British vessels that had collected the Acadian families for deportation had left for the Thirteen Colonies and destinations unknown.
“Prudent Robichaud came to us and informed us that he had spoken to Colonel Handfield at the fort. Handfield promised him special consideration because of his many years serving as justice of the peace and his other services to the Crown, and in respect of his eighty-six years. Prudent was relating these things to us when the captain of the Pembroke approached us at the wharf. He had just come from Handfield, who had directed him to the shipyards in search of Charles Belliveau, shipbuilder.
“‘Which of you is Charles Belliveau?’ he bellowed.
“I knew my father-in-law well and I wondered what his reaction would be to the captain’s aggressive tone.
“‘I am he, and what business do you have with me?’ spoke Charles, addressing the captain in perfect English.
“‘I have come to demand that you construct a centre mast for my ship, the HMS Pembroke. Our mast is broken and we are in need of a new one. Do you have white pine logs here in your shipyard?’
“‘I do indeed, and if you ask me politely, as a gentleman should, I might just agree to do your bidding.’
“‘Monsieur, you are a cheeky and insolent fellow. I command you to do as I ask.’
“‘And if I do not, sir, will you shoot me on the spot? If you do, you will never sail out of Annapolis on the Pembroke, because I am the only qualified shipbuilder still living here. I believe I have you at a disadvantage, Captain.’
“The veins in the captain’s neck began to engorge and his face went red with rage. Silence followed. We could see the captain working this over in his mind. Old Prudent stood there, smiling and leaning on his cane, enjoying the heated discourse.
“The captain’s tone changed to a more conciliatory one. ‘Sir, would you kindly agree to build a new mast for one of His Majesty’s ships?’
“Charles paused to indicate he was in control of the situation.
“‘I will do the job, Captain, for His Majesty and for pay.’
“‘Agreed, monsieur.’
“We set about stripping the pine log as Prudent sat himself down on another log, holding himself erect with his cane.
“‘It is my belief that those of us who remain may perhaps be permitted to stay in the colony,’ the old man mused.
“‘And what gives you that impression, Prudent?’ Charles asked. ‘The inhabitants of Melanson Village are the last Acadians remaining. Why would the British leave us in peace? It is beyond logic.’
“‘First of all, I and my family have held a privileged status here at Annapolis for many years. I think perhaps we will be spared.’
“‘That may be true, but I hardly think that those of us who are living at Melanson Village will be permitted to stay. Even though the Pembroke is a provision ship, there is still room for all of those who remain here.’
“‘You lack faith, Charles.’
“‘No, I have just lived among the English too long to be fooled by their assumed goodwill. Never be too trusting of the British. They have only had a conciliatory attitude toward the Acadians because we outnumbered them — and of course we have been useful to them over these past fifty years. We are being useful to them at present.’
“‘Time will tell.’
“Charles and I worked diligently through that day and the next until the mast was completed to Charles’s satisfaction. The captain returned at the end of the following day with an entourage of soldiers. His demeanour was one of a man in full command. This filled me with misgivings. Would he pay Charles for his labour?
“‘I see you have completed the job, sir. I thank you.’
“The soldiers were prepared to mount the mast and carry it to the ship’s lifeboat. Charles stood defiantly in front of them, barring their way.
“‘Just one moment, gentlemen. First I wish to be paid my due!’
“‘You are due nothing, sir, for you are now a military prisoner.’
“Charles was holding an axe in his hands as the captain bellowed these remarks.
“‘You will pay me what I am owed, sir, or I will destroy this mast before your very eyes.’
“The stunned captain paused, holding up his arm to halt the soldiers from falling upon Charles.
“‘Agreed.’
“He placed his hand into his satchel and drew out pounds sterling, passing them reluctantly to Charles.
“Charles took the money and placed it into his pocket.
“‘Now you must leave us be, Captain. We will be off to Melanson Village. Good day.’
“Charles and I jumped into our fishing boat and sailed home, feeling exhausted, relieved, and fearful that we had not heard the last of the captain of the Pembroke.”
Madeleine continued the story from there. By this time, we were spellbound.
“Over the next few days we prepared for the inevitable. We packed our things in an organized way, something I have learned was a luxury that other deported Acadians did not have. More days passed and there was still nothing. Then, around December 8, we noticed the HMS Pembroke anchored opposite us at Goat Island. By midday the soldiers from the garrison appeared above the orchard at our village, a hundred strong. Major Handfield led the regiment down the main road of the settlement, stopping at the Manor House where Papa stood at the gate. No one else was in sight.
“We had decided that we should remain inside, away from the cold. We wore our fur coats in case we were forced to leave our homes suddenly. We did not hear Handfield’s orders, but we could see Papa’s demeanour. He returned to the house where we waited with Grandmama. I cannot speak the words my father uttered that day or describe how we reacted, for it is too painful. The garrison escorted us down the main road of the village to the icy shoreline with all the others of our community. There we were herded to the waterside where we were loaded into our own fishing boats at gunpoint, many weeping at the inhumanity of what was happening to us.
“As my father filed by Major Handfield with the others, he stopped short and stared into the eyes of the man with whom he had had good business dealings for the past decade. The moment was not lost on the major — there is no way to describe the look of remorse on the British officer’s face, while my father’s face was filled with contempt.
“The fishing vessels filled with our neighbours, cousins, and their families floated to the island, where we joined the Acadians being deported from the town and its surrounding areas. The first person we saw was Prudent Robichaud, leaning on his cane, bewildered. Here was a broken eighty-six-year-old man. We all thought that he would not likely survive the voyage into exile.
“To ensure that all were accounted for, we were obliged to sign our names in the ship’s log before boarding, or make our mark if we could not read or write. Everyone, even the children, signed their names. Believing that most of us were not literate was typical of how the British viewed His Majesty’s Acadian subjects. We were simple-minded farmers.
“My father was stopped in the lineup by Fontaine, the captain of the Pembroke.
“‘Monsieur Belliveau, your mast is in place and is a very fine one. I see you are not so
confident as you were the day you extorted money from me. You will certainly need the money where you are going.’
“‘And where might that be, sir?’ Father inquired, giving the captain an inscrutable stare.
“‘It is none of your business. But since on another occasion you insisted on being treated like a gentleman, I will tell you. The Pembroke is bound for the Carolinas.’
“As we turned in the direction of the Pembroke, we witnessed a horrifying sight. Our homes and barns in Melanson Village were ablaze. The settlement our patriarchs had built a century ago was disappearing with the smoke rising above our burning homes. The spirits of our ancestors were evaporating with it.
“Everyone was transferred to the ship and ordered to climb below deck. There was little room for passengers because the Pembroke was a provision ship. So we were squashed in like sardines with almost no room to move, especially with the goods that we had carried on board with us. The perpetual darkness bothered the children the most. In the blackness of the cabin, the only evidence of who the person was next to you was a familiar voice. There were times I did not know which child was speaking to me! An oil lantern was provided during mealtime — it was always a joy to see the faces of my children while we ate our meals.”
My seventeen-year-old grandnephew, Charles, was enthusiastic to relate the next chapter of the story.
“It was lucky for us that we were permitted time on deck to get some fresh air. It was biting cold winter air at sea, but we were able to see the light of day. Grandfather was made responsible for choosing the five or six people permitted above deck to take the air. He changed the groupings every time for variety. It lifted our spirits no end. This routine continued for over a month. But you all know my grandfather, Charles Belliveau; he was always scheming, thinking of a plan to change the situation in our favour. He was able to speak to every Acadian on board, revealing to them the plan he had devised to capture the Pembroke. The vessel became a ship of whispers, everyone involved in the scheme he was hatching. By early February, as we continued to sail south, every prisoner was aware of the part they were to play in the capture of the ship.
“The day chosen to put our plan in motion came. Grandfather had chosen all the groups very carefully. Each one arrived on deck creating no suspicion in the captain or his British crew. Finally, Grandfather came up into the winter air with the largest and strongest five men among the prisoners and with ten more as brawny waiting below, ready to spring on the crew when he sounded the alarm. I was fortunate to be part of that second band of warriors!
“The first five, with our assistance, found it easy to overpower the British crew by force. They were caught totally unawares. Grandfather made it his duty to bring the captain to heel. Captain Fontaine, however, was determined not to capitulate without a fight. He raised his pistol, aiming it directly at Grandpapa. He saw no fear in Grandfather’s eyes, however. The captain was about to pull the trigger and fire at Grandfather point-blank. I catapulted myself at him, bringing him to the deck. The musket ball whizzed over the two of us and penetrated the chest of his first mate. The surprised officer fell into the arms of one of the women. The officer survived his wound thanks to the nursing skills of Great-Grandmama, God bless her.
“From that point on, the captors on board the HMS Pembroke became the prisoners. It was a glorious day for us! Two hundred and thirty-two Acadians, young and old, rose from the depths of the ship to celebrate their new-found freedom. Praise the Lord! We were free. Some were singing, some laughing, others cheering. Prudent Robichaud was carried up the stairs, jubilant for the first time in months.
“Grandpapa faced the defeated captain and declared with all the authority he had earned: ‘Sir, I am now the captain of this ship!’
“Everyone cheered.
“‘Take the prisoners below and chain them,’ Grandpapa ordered. ‘We will now turn the vessel around and head north to freedom. Man the sails.’
“And that is how we won the day aboard the HMS Pembroke!”
All the children around the fire clapped and cheered with excitement. It was truly a story right out of the pages of a great adventure story.
“Well told, nephew. Well told!” I exclaimed. “Such heroism. I am astounded by your story.”
Jeanne entered the conversation at that point. “Do not leave us in suspense. Where did you sail from there?”
My niece’s husband, Grand Pierre Boudrot, continued the fascinating tale of survival. “Being in possession of a British provision ship was like being on a boat filled with gold. There was food to last us six months, not to mention an arsenal of muskets, ammunition, and gunpowder. With such booty, we could survive for more than a year.
“And with a skilled navigator and experienced mariner at the helm, we would be able to maintain a course to safety. That mariner was Charles, now the captain of the Pembroke. With his skills we were able to arrive at the St. John River by the beginning of February. The first sight of land was exhilarating for us all. After many months at sea, we were more than ready to land on terra firma! Sailing into the river, we spotted the French fort on the embankment. We had kept the British flag flying at sea. Not wishing to risk being fired upon by the French, we replaced the Union Jack with a makeshift French one the women had sewn while we were at sea.
“Guns were shot from the fort, but as we floated closer, those inside the fort recognized that our clothing was not British. You can imagine how shocking it must have been to see a ship filled with over two hundred Acadians waving madly from the deck of a British cargo ship. We disembarked from the Pembroke with both our human cargo, British prisoners of war included, and the provisions remaining on board after our long voyage.
“Once the French officers heard the story of how your grandfather Charles Belliveau captured a British ship and sailed it into French territory, he was celebrated and treated like a dignitary. I am certain that our tale has been told at every Acadian and French settlement on the St. John River by now.”
I chimed in at this point with an important question. “Why are my brother Charles and Mother not with you?”
Madeleine answered cheerfully, “Most of the Acadians decided to sail to a French settlement further upriver, for it became very unsafe at the fort.
“Britain was now at war with France. Ten days after our arrival, a British warship bearing the French colours as disguise sailed into the mouth of the river. Once the French soldiers discovered the British ruse, they set fire to the HMS Pembroke to prevent the English from capturing her. The cannon fire kept the British at bay until armed reinforcements reached the fort days later. The British vessel soon withdrew to the Bay of Fundy and sailed away. We moved upriver to wait out the winter.
“The majority of the Acadian refugees decided that they would remain upriver until summer, and then travel to Quebec to start a new life there. Prudent Robichaud did not survive the winter, but he died happy, having experienced his freedom before he passed on. Grandmama Belliveau remained with Charles and the others. As we said before, we decided to remain in Acadia and take our chances. Those chances have led us to this wonderful family reunion. We have made our way easily with two muskets and provisions to last us until now. However, when we arrived in this camp we became aware that not everyone was as fortunate as we have been. As you say, Piau, we must devise a plan of survival.”
“I believe I have a way. And it might amuse you to know that we may reach our goal by following your example.”
By this time, the LeBlanc brothers had joined us. They were interested in what I was about to suggest.
“Look at these giants sitting here among us. God must have gifted them with their Herculean strength and size for a purpose.”
I knew I had the attention of the entire group.
“Look outside this group and you become aware that most of the refugees in this camp do not have the energy to carry out any plan of survival. But wi
th these handsome titans and a brilliant plan anything is possible. What I suggest is we board a fishing vessel and sail down the Petitcodiac to Fort Beauséjour. It is now in the hands of the British. We have several muskets, but we are out of ammunition and gunpowder. These are essential for us to continue hunting — we have these starving Acadians to feed. Our only option is to try to steal some. So, Joseph, Charlitte, Bonaventure, and Pierre, are you up for a grand adventure?”
All four leapt up and shouted their approval.
“Splendid. Stealth and strength will be our watchwords.”
Chapter 34
On the day of our departure we added Cyprian Gautreau to our group, for he was a massive man and we required at least one other to achieve our objective. It was a fortuitous decision. Indeed, so successful were we that the tale of our exploits has been repeated over and over again through the years and has made its participants famous to this day. Our story is eclipsed only by the heroism of my brother Charles capturing the HMS Pembroke.
There were two pistols in Abraham Dugas’s trunk. Ammunition and gunpowder were provided by Grand Pierre from the remnants of the arsenal pilfered from the Pembroke. The irony of the situation was not lost on me: our firearms were reinforced by ammunition stolen from one British ship to assist us in the takeover of another English vessel.
Our fishing vessel sailed with the tide down the mighty Petitcodiac. Its passengers were fortified by the belief that we would win the day. We entered Beaubassin early in the morning, and I conjured in my mind Jesus navigating his fishing boat in the stormy Sea of Galilee with his disciples. In our case, we were mastering a different storm.
It was not long before we noticed a schooner anchored out in the bay.
As we approached the vessel, my nephew Pierre exclaimed, “That is Father’s schooner. I would recognize it anywhere. We have arrived here for a purpose. God is guiding us this day.”