Piau

by Bruce Murray

  “Benjamin LeBlanc was murdered? I had no idea. If he was murdered, what connection do I have to this calamity? I heard from my mother in a letter she sent me at Boston that he had tragically met his end through some mysterious circumstance, but she was not aware of the details.”

  “I hope that is what your mother truly believed, for her own sake. Nothing will bring Benjamin back to me. I will leave the rest to the Almighty.”

  Mangeant the younger appeared troubled by my words, but I thought it served no purpose to share with him my theory on how Benjamin had met his untimely end. I did not discuss it with him again. Perhaps he surmised the truth.

  Chapter 38

  So began the next phase of our lives. We were a captive people but it was comforting initially to know that we did not have to be fugitives on the run anymore. Our years wandering through the wilderness were at an end. We never again were forced to live that nomadic existence. Freedom has its hardships and responsibilities, but many lessons were learned along the way.

  Jospiau became my constant companion during those years. He was thirteen when we arrived at Fort Edward, and I took it upon myself to take him everywhere I went, even to meetings with Captains Gay and Mangeant. It was important that he begin to learn the things I had been taught by Uncle Pierre. There were different lessons learned in the wilderness, but I wished him to understand the business of those men who possessed power.

  The humiliating part of our imprisonment did not come from chains, for we had the freedom of our limbs, and although we were guarded by British soldiers we could come and go as we pleased, so long as we remained within the confines of the fort and nearby lands. What caused us considerable embarrassment and sadness was that we were forced to work the farms that had formerly belonged to Acadians but were now in the possession of what they called planters from New England. We were paid a penny a day, so officially we Acadians were not considered slave labour. The pennies were no more than tokens, however, and in actuality we were indentured servants no matter how hard the British tried to conceal the fact.

  “This is slavery!” I railed to Captain Gay. “And it is humiliating for us to work the land that belonged to our brother Acadians. There are people in this camp who are being forced to work the farms that were established by their own families. Such cruelty is unconscionable.”

  Captain Gay was taken aback by my vehemence but was quick to respond: “Piau, you must understand that work is a permissible expectation of prisoners of war. By law, no Acadian is permitted to reside in Nova Scotia, so your presence in this colony is tolerated only by the fact that you chose to voluntarily surrender yourselves. We are providing your people with food and lodging, and you enjoy our protection so long as you reside here. In point of fact, you all should have been on the British ships in 1755, when all Acadians were expelled from this colony.”

  “If these conditions represent our status in Nova Scotia, why were we encouraged to sign the oath of allegiance to a king who is not our king?”

  “Taking the oath of allegiance was merely a formality, to prove your sincerity in accepting to be prisoners of war. It is also quite possible, once this war has come to a successful end and the English have prevailed in the Americas, that you may again enjoy the privileges of British subjects.”

  There was little point pursuing this matter, but there were ways I could manage the situation so that those who were being forced to labour on their former farms were placed elsewhere. To this request, Gay conceded.

  Shortly after agreeing to this request, however, Gay came to me with another demand.

  “The lieutenant-governor is in need of skilled labourers to continue the construction of the fortifications at the citadel in Halifax. I was told by Mangeant that you have experience as a mason and that several of the Acadians here do as well. Certainly the mighty LeBlanc brothers have the brawn. You would not have permanent residency in Halifax. Consider it temporary. You will be permitted to return here at regular intervals to visit your families.”

  “Captain Mangeant would be correct in that. I was trained by my great-uncle, who was a master stonemason from Yorkshire, and by my father-in-law in timber construction.”

  I made it a point at every opportunity to remind the two captains that I was also English. They respected my Englishness, particularly Mangeant, who did not possess one drop of English blood. This placed us on an equal footing, a position I was willing to exploit in order to ease the burden of my people.

  “Why do you not teach me to speak better English, Papa?” pleaded Jospiau after attending this meeting with the two British captains at Fort Edward. “I could not understand much of what you were saying to Captain Gay. How am I to learn if I do not comprehend English well?”

  “You are right, my son. We have been so busy surviving that I neglected your English lessons. Having been an Acadian refugee for these past five years, I have barely spoken a word of English myself. I intend to reverse my negligence and begin our lessons today.”

  And so it was that from that day on I spoke to Jospiau in English when we were together, family time excepted. As a boy he soon absorbed the language, and his comprehension improved greatly. He would need fluency in English as a resident of this British colony.

  The unexpected happened when we were preparing to transfer to Halifax for the building of the citadel. For the first time in my fifty-five years I became seriously ill. I have little memory of this critical time in my life, but I am able to describe it based on the stories I was told by Jeanne and other members of the family.

  During my times of lucidity, I beheld angels administering to my needs in the form of my loving daughters Rosalie, Jeanne the younger, Felicity, Theotiste, Agnes, and, of course, my dear wife, Jeanne. The girls seemed to have the healing touch of their great-grandmother Marie, so my recovery was more likely in their hands. But Jeanne later told me that my fever had been dangerously high and that they had been certain they would lose me. Can you imagine me departing this world after surviving every possible hardship in exile? That would have been a true injustice. But these things are not determined by humans. There were times when I felt I was being drawn into the light of what must have been eternity, but as soon as I arrived at the precipice I turned away from the light and returned to the living. They say I went in and out of consciousness for several weeks. Jeanne confessed she was terrified at the prospect of losing me and that she could not imagine not having me present in her life. They all prayed constantly and attended to me every hour of every day until I rejoined them in the world of the living. Moses had survived the worst and was able to continue to lead his people on their journey to the Promised Land.

  Others succumbed to the fever as well — they were afflicted with the disease but they too survived. The most surprising event was that all three of the mighty LeBlanc boys became sick simultaneously: Charlitte, Bouon, and Joseph. When they finally recovered, they not surprisingly continued their pursuit of my daughters. The herculean threesome had been openly courting Theotiste, Rosalie, and Agnes respectively for the entire time we spent in the wilderness. My daughters were not resistant to their advances; over the next two years each couple was married at Fort Edward by a visiting priest. Each commenced married life in bondage, but their marriages have lasted many years, most of them in freedom and happiness.

  Chapter 39

  Healthy and strong, with Jospiau by my side, accompanied by my titan sons-in-law Charlitte, Bouon, and Coujeau LeBlanc and my nephew Pierre, I made the trek across country to Halifax with a military escort, our first visit to a city. The citadel was already under construction. On our arrival at the work site, a familiar face caught my eye. It was Bastide, the engineer who in 1744 had been our architect and overseer in the restoration of the fortifications at Annapolis. He looked my way and recognized me immediately, even though I was now eighteen years older.

  “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t old Piau! The fate
s have finally decided to be kind and deliver me a skilled stonemason. Are Bernard and Denys with you? Of course not. They both would have joined the ancients! Well, well, welcome to my building site. How fortuitous!”

  “This is an unexpected pleasure, Captain Bastide.”

  “I am compelled to correct you, Piau. I am to be appointed lieutenant-general in the autumn. And do you think that promotion will give me access to more skilled workers? Not in this God-forsaken place they call Halifax. But out of my past comes a deliverer.”

  I introduced Bastide to Jospiau and the rest of my group.

  “These men, sir, have been trained in stonemasonry and timber construction at Fort Edward under my tutelage, especially my fifteen-year-old son here. Jospiau has inherited his talents from his great-great-uncle Pierre and his grandfather Bernard Gaudet.”

  “I can see he favours Bernard in his looks. I hope he has also inherited his grandfather’s good nature. I have never met a man more jovial than your Gaudet grandfather, young man.”

  “I am afraid there is no way God could create another Bernard Gaudet. When my father-in-law died, the mould was broken, monsieur.”

  “So true, Piau, so true!” he laughed heartily.

  As we continued our conversation, a distinguished-looking officer appeared on the ramparts, ignoring our presence and watching with considerable concentration the work being done by the labourers. Noticing our interest in this new arrival on the hill, Bastide’s mood changed abruptly.

  “You will be required to acquaint yourself with this gentleman, although I use that designation with considerable reservation. He is Major Frederick DesBarres, a Huguenot like me, born in France or Switzerland, although I hardly care. You will hear his tales of heroism before long and more than likely from the man himself. He won the siege of Louisbourg and Quebec single-handedly, I am told! No one remembers that I was there as well. DesBarres claims he held the dying General James Wolfe in his arms after the defeat of the French on the Plains of Abraham at Quebec. Humility is not something he aspires to. The gentleman is a shameless self-promoter. He is an adequate assistant military engineer, but I must give credit where credit is due. He is a brilliant cartographer. That is what he should be occupying his time with, not bothering himself with my efforts here!”

  Bastide left little to say after his brief tirade.

  “So, Piau, you and your companions will be directed to your quarters at the barracks by these soldiers and I will speak to you later on how you can best assist these poor excuses for stonemasons.”

  Carrying our few belongings, my group was ushered to our quarters to settle in for the evening. The following day I met DesBarres. He appeared at our barracks looking for me.

  “The man named Piau, please show yourself,” he commanded in perfect French. There was no formal greeting. No bonjour. This was a man who straightaway got right to the point.

  In perfect English, with no formalities, I answered the major.

  “I am he. I am fluent in English, Major, and at your service.”

  DesBarres gave me a quizzical look but showed no sign of affording me any more than a cursory acknowledgement.

  “Bastide was correct in describing your English as remarkable for an Acadian. He and I are equally fluent in your native tongue, but as foreman of our stoneworkers your ability to speak English will simplify communication as we construct the walls of the fortress. We have both English and French labourers here.”

  I was somewhat shocked that I had so readily been chosen as master stonemason on this project.

  “I am honoured for the trust you and Captain Bastide are placing in me. It has been many years since I have applied myself to my trade. However, skills, once acquired, last a lifetime. There are several of us who have knowledge of timber construction as well. Acadians have engaged in this skill since the building of the fortress at Louisbourg. My wife’s father, Bernard Gaudet, and his brother Denys were responsible for this type of construction, both at Île Royale and Annapolis. Captain Bastide employed them on many occasions. I learned from them and I have passed my knowledge down to my companions and my son.”

  “Then your reputation is justified, monsieur.” At that moment I was no longer just a labourer to this man. The use of “monsieur” was the first sign of respect he was affording me.

  “Piau, I will give you a thorough tour of the fortifications being constructed around the citadel. As much work is being done underground as above. An entire system of bunkers will be built and subsequently covered in giant mounds of earth. Probably you have experience with such a system at Annapolis, perhaps on a smaller scale.”

  “Yes, Major. I am familiar with such a building scheme.”

  “I have a feeling, Piau, we are going to get along famously.” For the first time, I was aware of a twinkle in DesBarres’s eyes. A sudden smile appeared, to seal the deal.

  After having been introduced to the workers, I proceeded to toil as hard as they did. Uncle Pierre always said, “model the work and others will imitate and learn from your example.” I preferred not to encourage any special treatment or status among the British at the citadel, for they were, after all, still our captors and we were still their prisoners even though we were being paid a meagre stipend.

  I was polite with the officers and friendly with Bastide. Soon the lieutenant-general was too preoccupied to cast his attention on me. His trust in me was sufficient for both of us. The stonemasonry spoke for itself, and Bastide was happy with our work.

  “Oh, it was fate that brought you to the citadel, Piau, and my good fortune!”

  I accepted his praise with a nod and a smile. Otherwise our relationship was a working one.

  Major DesBarres, however, was a different matter. I found myself drawn to this young man who, despite Bastide’s reservations, was a genius. His knowledge was so broad and varied that I could not prevent myself from engaging him in conversation as often as possible. Sometimes he was drawing military plans and at other times he was drafting maps of what I presumed was the coast of Nova Scotia. He often shared the map creations with me, trusting my judgment.

  “This is the entire coastline of Île Royale, drawn precisely here. I have renamed the island Cape Breton.” Following the coastline with his finger, DesBarres explained, “Last summer I circumnavigated the island, beginning at Louisbourg, sailing into all the bays along the coast, into an inland sea, north along the coastline, and south until I reached the Strait of Canso on the southwestern side of the island. This rugged coast is the one between the port of Canso and the fortress at Louisbourg. It was the most difficult to map. There are hundreds of inlets and islands. It almost drove me mad!” The major began to laugh as he proudly rolled up the map.

  “I marvel at the work involved in creating such a map. The accuracy is spellbinding. Where did you learn such drafting skills?”

  DesBarres seemed pleased that I appreciated his craftsmanship. He was clearly a vain man, but his vanity was well justified.

  “I studied mathematics and science at the university in Basel, in Switzerland. Later, I moved to England, where I was taken under the wing of the Duke of Cumberland, who financed my military training at the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich. I studied cartography, drafting, and military fortifications there.”

  “I have never met anyone who attended a university. What exactly occurs there?”

  “It is an institution where men go to study languages, history, philosophy, mathematics, and science. When you have studied any of these disciplines and have acquired a proficiency in the necessary course of studies the university grants you a degree. My degree is in science and mathematics.”

  “And mathematics is measurement?”

  “What a clever observation, Piau. It is essentially advanced arithmetic, where you use numbers, or letters that represent numbers, to measure things, yes.”

  I found such a prospect f
ascinating. For the time being, however, I withdrew from this new knowledge to digest it later.

  DesBarres’s enthusiasm increased with every word he uttered. It was clear he possessed a passion for what he called cartography. “I hope to map the entire coastline of the colonies north of New England beginning next summer. How would you like to join me on one of my voyages? Do you have knowledge of the sea?”

  “I hope to be with my family at Fort Edward next summer. You are kind to consider me for such an expedition. If my brother Charles were still alive, he would be the one to take. He was a master shipbuilder and mariner. I probably should not reveal this story, but he is gone and his fame has already spread throughout the colonies. He was the Acadian responsible for the seizing of the HMS Pembroke. Charles Belliveau, he was called.”

  “That Charles Belliveau was your brother? Incredible! As embarrassing as the seizure of the Pembroke was, there were many in the British navy who marvelled at your brother’s heroism and skill as a mariner. Well, well! You implied earlier that he was no longer with us. Did he fall to a British musket?”

  “No, something far worse. He made it safely to Quebec in 1756 with my mother in tow, only to have both of them succumb to smallpox two years later. It was so tragic, after achieving such heroism.”

  “His heroism is still being discussed, so I figure Charles Belliveau still survives in the memory of many.”

  “Certainly in mine, Major.”

  My education lasted throughout the summer and autumn whenever DesBarres and I had any spare time. He seemed to enjoy sharing the drawings and plans he drafted of the proposed fortifications that were required to defend Halifax from a French invasion. Britain was still at war with France, and in the summer of 1761 there was still no end to the conflict, despite the British hold on Louisbourg, Quebec, and Montreal. Governor James Murray in Quebec was insistent that the construction at Halifax be sped up and completed in case of a French invasion of the seaport. Finally, all was completed for the time being and we were permitted to return home for the winter.