by Bruce Murray
Even the Bay of Fundy was unusually peaceful that day, reminding us of the parting of the sea in the Book of Exodus. On this day, though, there was no pharaoh’s army in pursuit of us, and the excitement we were feeling was joy and expectation.
By nightfall our ship laid anchor in Beaubassin. The captain rowed ashore to inform the British authorities at Fort Cumberland of our arrival. Some of the Acadian families on board were to venture on by sea, with the captain at the helm, to DesBarres’s lands at Menoudie. The rest of us waited patiently while the major’s agents, who had accompanied us on the trip, mapped out land directions for us to follow into the Memramcook River Valley. By morning, all the families in our group had disembarked and were organizing their belongings and herding the cattle for our day’s journey across the Tintamarre salt marshes.
We Acadians were energized by the prospect of reaching the Memramcook River by sundown. With each step we took on our day’s journey, we felt the cool breeze of freedom penetrating our bodies and filling our spirits with sublime expectation. This was a day I had longed for my entire life: no British authority watching our every move, an independence that was never afforded us because we were Acadian, and a homeland that only we were responsible for. As we walked north over the marshes, where dikes still embroidered the landscape, we purged our souls, driving out the suffering and hardships we had been forced to endure for most of our lives.
Native people met us along the way and welcomed us to the land of their fathers. We shared our food with them and requested they accompany us on our journey. They guided us across miles and miles of marshes and dike lands, only departing from us when we reached the east shore of the Memramcook River. There my people stood fixed on the spot, visualizing what their lives would be like once they had crossed the river. I could imagine how joyful Moses must have been when he first caught sight of the River Jordan. God, however, was affording me something that Moses did not experience; I would cross the Jordan to the Promised Land with my people and would be permitted to settle there until the end of my days.
On the eve of our deliverance we built huge bonfires that lit the summer sky with flames and sparks that seemed to reach the stars. We sang the ancient songs and we played music for our dancing — even the elders joined in. Looking around, I saw a sea of young faces filled with hope. It was their time to begin a new life, nurture their children, and create a bright future for their descendants. Tomorrow would be the dawning of a new day, une belle époque!
When the sun rose on the following day we gathered to pray by the river. I recounted the story of the children of Israel entering the land of Canaan by crossing the River Jordan. They cheered when I declared that, unlike Moses, I was being allowed by the Lord to enter the Promised Land with my family and friends. The Acadians gathered on the eastern side of the Memramcook River began to chant my name.
“Piau! Piau! Piau!”
I began to weep tears of happiness that I should be so honoured by the people I loved. Jeanne took my arm and squeezed it out of pride. The children danced around me and shouted the same.
“Piau! Piau! Piau!”
I was so overcome with emotion that for the first time in my life words failed me.
No words were required.
Once the cheering subsided, I suggested that we construct a large raft made of logs to transport the ladies at high tide rather than submit them to the mud of low tide. With many hands and new tools provided by DesBarres himself, we built a large barge with ropes on two sides to convey as many provisions and people as we could. The livestock would ford the river further up, where the river bottom was rockier. By mid-afternoon we were safely standing on the opposite bank of the river, ready to begin our new life.
And so we built our community on the west side of the river. We restored the dikes to their previous state, and we planted our crops early enough in the first season to harvest them in the autumn. We built our homes in the old-fashioned way, with wood fences and vegetable gardens alongside. The settlement we established was larger than Melanson Village and Gaudet Village combined. All the cultivation of the land and tending of livestock was done co-operatively so that all could share in the results. The benefits of our labour ensured that everyone prospered equally. They called this community Piau’s Village.
Need I say more? It only remains to say that families reproduced themselves tenfold. Before long the barns were filled with cattle, oxen, and chickens, and the stables housed ever more horses. In time, this valley we lived in became famous for breeding fine horses and cattle.
We made the newly designated Colonel DesBarres proud. He never visited us at Piau’s Village, but we felt his presence. Many years after DesBarres returned to England, Mistress Mary Cannon, now known infamously as Polly, travelled throughout the DesBarres domains to collect her rents and cause mayhem. Living so far from Castle Frederick, we enjoyed an independence that closer regions did not. When she finally arrived to terrorize us in the Memramcook Valley, Polly and I locked horns — and, may I say, it was not the lady who won the day. She was a determined woman, but she surely met her match in me. She never returned.
As a last communication with me, before Colonel DesBarres left in 1774 for England, where he would remain for many years, he had one of his land agents deliver me a letter. I read the letter on its arrival.
My Dear Piau,
I have missed your company these past six years since you departed Castle Frederick. You will be happy to learn that the estate has expanded to such an extent that there are now ninety-three persons administering to the advancement and maintenance of the Manor House and grounds. Mistress Mary has borne me several children since you left, and they are thriving. I have finally completed my mapping expeditions and have drafted a book of comprehensive maps of the eastern colonies of Canada. You would be astonished at their accuracy. I must return to England to present my book, Atlantic Neptune, to the Admiralty and the Board of Trade at Westminster. I have heard that the young king himself is interested in having a copy printed for his library. This is a very high honour.
Now to the reason for this missive. Your contribution to the building of Castle Frederick cannot be quantified, for no calculation could measure its value to me. On a more personal note, your son, Joseph, did me a great service assisting in the education of my lady. For these favours, I wish to return one in kind. On my lands along the eastern side of the Petitcodiac River, near its mouth and in the shadow of the Beaumont Hills, there is a large acreage that I wish to grant to your son and his heirs.
You will find a legal document enclosed that will certify his ownership. It is the least I can do to repay you for your friendship, unwavering loyalty, and exceptional service to my person and my interests.
May you and your family enjoy great prosperity in the coming years.
Yours most sincerely,
Frederick DesBarres, Col. His Majesty’s Navy
And so it was, without divulging the contents of Colonel DesBarres’s letter to anyone but Jeanne, I asked Jospiau to accompany me on a walk over the Beaumont Hills to view the great Petitcodiac at high tide. He agreed willingly, although he gave me a curious and mischievous look. Perhaps he thought I was going to discuss his upcoming marriage to Marie Josephe Gaudet, a descendent of Jeanne’s Uncle Denys. And so we stood at the top of the hill and viewed the river and its mighty tidal bore rushing to its destination at Coverdale. He smiled as I described my courtship of Jeanne and our marriage. He seemed charmed.
After much discussion, I motioned him to follow me to the bottom of the hill to the place that DesBarres described in his letter. As we reached the land that was to be his, I recounted to Jospiau what the great DesBarres had bequeathed him. He was overwhelmed with emotion.
“Is this possible, Papa?”
“It is, my son. Remember, from every good deed comes another good deed. In your case, you paid dearly for your generosity. But God has d
elivered you a gift, and Colonel DesBarres has heard His wish.”
As the tide rose higher and higher, we could see the sunbeams dancing on top of the water. It was at that magical moment that I drew a sack from my belt and presented it to my son.
“Open the sack and pour the contents into your hand.”
Jospiau gave me a broad smile and did as I asked.
“What are these, Papa?”
“What do you think they are?”
“They are apple seeds, Papa. The sack is filled with them. What does this mean?”
“Many years ago, when you were only four years old, I collected these seeds from the apples growing in the orchard at Melanson Village. My ancestors planted those trees when they arrived in Acadia. I felt that if I harvested and kept these seeds I would possess a little piece of Charles Melanson; Marie Dugas; my father, Jean; my mother, Madeleine; and all those who had gone before them. By planting these seeds here on your new land, you honour your ancestors and me.”
Tears appeared in our eyes and we embraced.
“I love you, Papa.”
“And I you, my son.”
Epilogue, 1806
Here I sit in my son’s apple orchard overlooking the mighty Petitcodiac River, comfortable beneath the blossoms, in a birch chair surrounded by my descendants, who have gathered to celebrate my hundred years of life. My son is now the patriarch of Belliveau Village and I am my people’s living ancestor. Soon I will join the ancient Acadians, the pantheon of those who, by the grace of God, created Acadia at great cost to themselves so we could live here in peace. The new generation does not remember the Deportation, but the elders will never allow them to forget the sacrifices of those who have gone before. I longingly look out at the Bay of Fundy, imagining a return to Melanson Village, wondering whether someone has resurrected my homeland from the ashes of time.
It is now time to close my eyes and sleep. Perhaps I will have visitors.
Appendix 1
Place Names
Acadia — Nova Scotia
Annapolis Basin — Mouth of the Annapolis River, Nova Scotia
Beaubassin — Amherst, Nova Scotia
Belliveau Village — Community on the Petitcodiac River, founded by Joseph (known as Jospiau) Belliveau in 1774
Castle Frederick — Falmouth, Nova Scotia
Chebuctou — Halifax, Nova Scotia
Cocagne — New Brunswick community on the Northumberland Strait
Fort Beauséjour — French fortress between Amherst, Nova Scotia, and Sackville, New Brunswick
Fort Edward — British fort at Pisiquit
Fortress of Louisbourg — Louisbourg, Cape Breton Island
French Cross — Morden, Nova Scotia — Village on the Bay of Fundy
Gaudet Village — Bridgetown, Nova Scotia
Goat Island — Island in Annapolis Basin
Grand Pré — Acadian village in the larger community of Minas
Île à Piau — Major’s Point in Belliveau Cove, St. Mary’s Bay, Nova Scotia
Melanson Village — Melanson Settlement National Historic Site near Champlain’s Habitation of Port Royal
Memramcook — Town in New Brunswick near Moncton, formerly known as Piau’s Village
Minas — Acadian communities on the Minas Basin
Miramichi — River on the eastern coast of New Brunswick
Petitcodiac River — River in New Brunswick flowing into the Bay of Fundy
Pisiquit — Windsor, Nova Scotia
Port Royal — Annapolis (Annapolis Royal after 1713)
Restigouche — New Brunswick community north of Miramichi
St. Croix Cove — Cove on the Bay of Fundy coast
St. Mary’s Bay — Bay between Digby Neck and Nova Scotia mainland
Appendix 2
Appendix 3
Historical Acknowledgements and National Historic Sites Related to this Work
Regis Brun — Acadian historian, author, and archivist, Centre for Acadian Studies, University of Moncton
Harry Burke and Edward “Ned” Belliveau — Family historians who provided full details and family lore about Piau and Colonel Frederick DesBarres
Placide Gaudet — Acadian genealogist and archivist, National Archives of Canada
Henri LeBlanc, Marguerite Michaud, and Edouard Richard — Acadian historians who mention Piau’s life and exploits
Stephen A. White — Chief genealogist, Centre for Acadian Studies, University of Moncton
National Historic Sites Visited in Massachusetts
Massachusetts State Archives — Letters of Charles Melanson (Piau’s maternal grandfather) to Governor Stoughton of Massachusetts, 1690–1696
National Historic Sites Visited in New Brunswick
Cocagne
Restigouche
National Historic Sites Visited in Nova Scotia
Belliveau Cove
Fort Anne at Annapolis Royal
Fort Beauséjour
Fort Edward at Windsor
French Cross Park
Georges Island
Grand Pré
Halifax Citadel
Fortress of Louisbourg
Melanson Settlement
Memramcook Institute
Acknowledgements
First of all, I would like to acknowledge and thank those who are no longer with us, whose contributions to this book have been incalculable: my uncle, Harry L. Burke, for introducing me to Acadian history and, more specifically, to Piau and Colonel Frederick DesBarres; historian and cousin Edward “Ned” Belliveau, who resurrected Piau just in time to inspire my interest in him; Regis Brun, renowned Acadian historian, author, and archivist at the Centre for Acadian Studies, University of Moncton. Our two-year correspondence enlightened me on all aspects of my Acadian family history. Nineteenth- and early twentieth-century historians Placide Gaudet, Henri LeBlanc, Marguerite Michaud, and, notably, Edouard Richard, whose two volumes on Acadia introduced me to the relationship between Lieutenant-Governor Armstrong and the antagonist in my book, Mangeant. To Albert Belliveau, who I interviewed at age 103 and who had a keen remembrance of the stories told to him as a boy growing up in the Promised Land (Memramcook, New Brunswick). And, finally, my Acadian mother, Marion (Burke) Murray, who accompanied me on trips to graveyards, churches, and any number of ancestral sites, providing her memories and insights into our Acadian family history.
Those still with us, Stephen A. White, chief genealogist, Centre for Acadian Studies, University of Moncton, whose genealogical work made this book possible. Thanks also to Mr. White for pursuing the quest that led to my discovery that Piau was among the Acadian prisoners who were shipped to Boston from Halifax in July 1762. Fellow Cumberland County native, Brenda Dunn, whose book A History of Port Royal/Annapolis Royal, 1605–1800 kept me on track chronologically and, most importantly, led me to the Massachusetts State Archives, where I discovered the Charles Melanson (Piau’s grandfather) letters to Governor Stoughton of Massachusetts, 1690–96.
Many thanks to Laura Boyle, senior designer at Dundurn Press, for designing an inspiring cover, featuring the art of my favourite Nova Scotia painter, David MacIntosh. I could not have dreamed of a more appropriate cover to accompany my story. To my sympathetic and dream editor, Dominic Farrell, whose suggestions made everything clearer and better, leaving the author’s voice beautifully in tact. His support has been pivotal.
I wish to especially thank my agent, Arnold Gosewich, for his wise counsel and for finding my book the ideal publisher.
Thanks and love to those who support my work on a daily basis: Corinne Murray for listening and advising, Donna Murray for reading the manuscript, and Anne Murray for agreeing to support me on this author’s journey with a gracious foreword.
Finally, I must acknowledge publisher Kirk Howard and all the diligent and
helpful staff at Dundurn Press for their assistance and continued commitment to promoting Canadian history.
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