“We have brought all the supplies we could get our hands on,” he continued. “We even have a couple of kegs of rum and I hope you will forgive us if we have un p’tit coup to celebrate our reunion. Tomorrow we will speak of more serious things.”
—
In the following days, the men took stock of the location and condition of the encampments and the women took stock of the new supplies.
When the men agreed that their situation was good, they quickly began to repair what houses could be salvaged and to build others. They cut down suitably sized pine trees, squared them, put them one upon the other, and fastened them with wooden pegs. They filled the crevices with moss and secured the chimneys with clay. This made a snug house that could withstand the harsh winters.
The women dealt with the barrels of flour, dried cod and the salt that would allow them to cure fish. There were blankets, shoes and clothing. But the provisions had to be carefully doled out. The most valuable of all was the flour. They would stretch it out by baking bread only at intervals of one or two weeks. The winter would be long, and they could not depend on further privateering for supplies.
—
Pierre Bois found himself, perhaps for the first time in his life, the centre of his wife’s attention. He had been shot in the leg during the battle at Ristigouche. The wound had not been properly treated and had festered. Jeanne insisted that he stay off his feet and she put a poultice of herbs on his wound. Marie was her mother’s assistant, and Pierrot and Nono ran circles around their Papa while he held Angélique on his lap.
“Well, Jeanne,” he said one day with typical Acadian wit, “if I had known I would be so well treated, I’d have shot myself in the leg long ago.”
Jeanne did not answer. She could not quite explain to herself why she suddenly felt such a surge of affection for her husband.
Pierre recovered in time to help build their own winter house. As the workload lessened, Jeanne once again was privy to her brothers’ discussions. Charles had almost convinced Joseph that if they could stay hidden for now and not do anything to further incite British anger, they might have a chance to settle in this area. It was good country. They could live by fishing and hunting, and the land could be farmed if only they could stay long enough in one place. There were other Acadians in the Nipisiguit area, and in Caraquet, Ristigouche and Chipagan. And there had been Mi’kmaw communities here for centuries.
“Think about it, Joseph,” Charles said. “Let the rest of the world go by. We can make our home here without anyone being the wiser.”
“Charles, you’re too good a man to see evil in anyone,” said Joseph. “Do you think the British will just forget about us Acadians?”
“They might if we leave them alone. We don’t need to raid their ships if we can live off the land. Can’t we at least try this?
“What about the other resistance leaders?”
“What about them? They are at the end of their resources too.”
“Well, Charles, let’s get through the winter and then see what spring brings.”
Mon Dieu, thought Jeanne, we are back to waiting through another winter to learn what news spring will bring.
Late in September, they heard that Montréal had fallen. On September 8, a year after the French troops had been defeated on the Plains of Abraham and surrendered Québec, Montréal had surrendered without a shot being fired. Québec, Montréal, La Petite Rochelle were no more. The Acadian refugees were now truly abandoned on this vast continent.
—
The weather was kind to them until late October, when a fierce storm of wind and rain hit the area as if it would never end. At one point, everything in and out of the houses was soaked and they could not even start a fire. One day Joseph was at Jeanne’s house and he and Pierre were trying to find something that would be dry enough to respond to the flint. Jeanne handed them her stack of bibliothèque bleu volumes. “Here,” she said and walked away. Once a fire had taken hold, Joseph and Pierre took glowing embers to the neighbouring houses.
Jeanne knew very well that to the people around her, a few books meant nothing compared to having a fire. But she could not help but feel a great sadness. Martin, she thought, my spirit is sick. Bonne Sainte-Anne, she prayed silently, please help us.
A few days later, she was called to the bedside of young Anne-Marie Gautier. It was the young woman’s first baby and she was terrified. Jeanne smiled. “I have brought many babies into the world. You’ll be fine. And I have Sainte-Anne with me. She is the patron saint of mothers in labour, and she will protect you. You’ll see.” Anne-Marie’s labour was long, but she bravely gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Jeanne baptized him.
As Jeanne was leaving, Anne-Marie’s brother-in-law arrived with his mother and they began to fuss over the new mother and baby. Jeanne thought that the young man looked rather like a happy father. Merci, bonne Sainte-Anne.
—
Through the early autumn, the men heard rumours that the British were destroying Louisbourg. At first the stories were ignored; such a thing was hard to believe. Why would they destroy that strong fortress and important commercial centre for which they had fought so hard?
Charles thought differently. “No,” he said, “I can understand. Now that they have taken all the French territory, and they have their own fort at Halifax, they don’t need Louisbourg anymore.”
“But why destroy it?” asked Jeanne.
“Hmpf, to make sure the French can never have it again,” said Joseph. Charles reluctantly nodded.
In mid-November, Joseph Leblanc dit Le Maigre, the Gautier brothers and several Mi’kmaq returned from a scouting mission to Cap Breton and reported that Louisbourg was now totally demolished. Three British ships had arrived in the spring, carrying a company of miners, for the purpose of blowing up the fortress. They dug galleries between the walls, filled them with explosive powder and laid fuses. For many weeks the harbour of Louisbourg echoed with blasts that sent the stoneworks of the fortress skyward. Some of the more valuable ones had been salvaged and shipped elsewhere. The once-mighty fortress at Louisbourg now existed only in its ruins and in the memories of those who had lived there.
A group of the refugees had gathered to greet the Gautiers and the Mi’kmaq and to hear their news, but it did not incite a loud and vigorous discussion the way it might under different circumstances. The mood was silent and anguished.
Charles noticed that René Thérriaux had his violin with him and he asked him and Pierre Gautier if they would play and sing.
They began with “C’était toi, noble empereur qui m’avais mis gouverneur de Louisbourg,” which described the defeat of the fortress. As Thérriaux’s violin kept a mournful accompaniment they sang “La Prise de Louisbourg.” But when Pierre Gautier started to sing “Cruelle partance,” describing happy days at the fortress and the pain of leaving friends, Jeanne could not bear to listen anymore. She tried to leave quietly, but her husband saw her go and followed.
“Jeanne, you mustn’t. I know it’s hard for you. Cry if it will help, but don’t run away from us. We need you. We can’t survive without you. I can’t survive without you. Please come inside. You’re not dressed for the cold.” Coming from her husband, these few words of encouragement and love constituted a speech, and Jeanne was touched.
She turned and let him put his arm around her and lead her back to the house. “I’m all right, Pierre,” she said with a heavy heart. As they walked into the house, she saw Anne watching her, and she nodded to her: I’m all right.
—
Once again the winter season brought a breathing space to the families. It was almost comforting to Jeanne to hear the familiar discussions and arguments that took place between the three Dugas brothers, her husband Pierre, Joseph Leblanc dit Le Maigre and some of the other resistance leaders.
There was a new political aspect to be considered. Wa
s the territory of the Baie des Chaleurs and the surrounding area now under the jurisdiction of Halifax or of Québec? If Québec, this would mean some protection under the terms of the general surrender of Nouvelle France signed in Montréal in the fall. If they were still under the jurisdiction of Halifax, they had no assurance whatsoever of their fate. In reality, they did not even know if this distinction in territory had been made.
The Acadians in this area were, for all intents and purposes, in a sort of no-man’s land. As always, they would have to wait to see what the spring brought.
Part 4
Capture and
Imprisonment
Chapter 35
The spring of 176l arrived quietly in Nipisiguit with gentle weather, almost as if it sensed that it must not draw attention to itself or its refugees. Charles and Anne took their family back to their house in Caraquet. Abraham and Marguerite stayed on to help Joseph’s family, who were to share their schooner with Abraham. There was an attempt among the women to think in terms of a normal life, and Jeanne and the others scrounged whatever seeds and cuttings they could to start their kitchen gardens. There was no evidence of new supplies, though Jeanne was not aware of any privateering activity. The winter had been difficult, but no one had died of starvation. They had all survived, or rather endured.
—
Alexander Murray, the British governor of Québec, was angry because some of the Acadian privateers along the North Shore had continued their activities even after their defeat at the Ristigouche Poste and the destruction of La Petite Rochelle. He was determined that an end should be put to these raids. In April, he wrote to Colonel Amherst: “Now is the time to evacuate that country entirely of the neutral French and to make the Indians of it our own.”
In early July he authorized Pierre du Calvet, the former storekeeper at Ristigouche Poste, to take a census of all the Acadian refugees remaining on the North Shore and to determine the number of extra ships needed to transport them to Québec.
Du Calvet arrived in the area on the sloop Sainte-Anne later in July, bearing his instructions. Despite his earlier betrayal, the refugees welcomed du Calvet among them. The idea of a census was not so threatening. At least it recognized their existence and appeared to place them under Québec’s jurisdiction.
There was, of course, much discussion and arguing. Not everyone trusted du Calvet, especially Joseph Dugas, but what choice did they have? Very few of the refugees wanted to go to Québec, and they had learned from experience that if they could stall long enough they might be left in place. The former storekeeper spent more than two months travelling from one settlement to the other and left with a very thorough list of the refugees, their locations and their ships.
There was an easing of tensions after du Calvet’s departure. They were living as if they were no longer under siege. People walked boldly along the shore, their ships sailed freely between their settlements, and Acadian voices were raised loud again, whether in argument or laughter or song. The children, taking their cue from their elders, ran about and played with abandon. The only real worry Jeanne had concerned her brother Charles. After a recent visit to him in Caraquet, Joseph reported that Charles was sick. She thought of asking Pierre to take her to see him, but she knew that Anne was more than capable of looking after him.
The autumn weather was kind to them again and gave its own beauty to the area. Jeanne was not sure which she preferred, the vibrant autumn colours or the sweet green of spring. Both filled her with a simple joy. She counted her blessings. They had a home and were looking forward to an easier winter than the last, thanks to their hard work during the summer.
—
In November, disaster struck.
Three British warships arrived led by Captain Roderick MacKenzie and a company of about fifty Highlanders. They were guided by Étienne Echbock, chief of the Mi’kmaq at Pokemouche, one of the districts that had made a peace agreement with the British. Pierre du Calvet’s census had been ordered by the Governor of Québec, but MacKenzie’s orders came from Colonel Forster, commander of the British troops in Nova Scotia. MacKenzie had orders to capture all the Acadians in the Baie des Chaleurs and Miramichi areas.
Captain MacKenzie arrived first at Nipisiguit, rousing Jeanne from her reverie on the beauty of the land. She had turned to look to the sea and was shocked to see a band of men in British military dress marching up from the beach with muskets at the ready. They came right to her. Her neighbours stood watching, some of the hardier among them coming to stand with her. The militia had now started to move to surround them, and a French-speaking militiaman addressed them.
“Mesdames, Messieurs. I speak on behalf of Captain Roderick MacKenzie. You are hereby ordered, by the commander of the troops of the British king in Nova Scotia, to come with us. You may bring a small bundle of personal effects with you.”
“But Monsieur,” said René Gaudet, one of the few men present, “you must explain to us why this is happening. We have given a census to the governor of Québec and therefore we come under Québec’s jurisdiction. Not Nova Scotia’s.”
The young militiaman snorted. “Well, it does not much matter, does it? Come on, move. If you resist we will have to kill you. And don’t think you can escape into the woods.”
How could such a dreadful thing happen on such a beautiful day? Jeanne ran to gather her children and to warn the others, while she tried to think calmly. She told the other women that she thought it was all a mistake and that when their husbands could speak to these men and explain about the census they would be released. She quickly made several bundles, each with a change of clothes, extra moccasins, bits of food, a blanket. To her own bundle, she added the statuette of Sainte-Anne and the shawl.
“Tell me what to do, Maman,” begged Marie. “I can help.”
“Keep an eye on your two brothers and your sister, Marie, promise me?”
“Yes, Maman.”
Small groups of women and children started to gather on the beach. Jeanne kept an eye out for Marguerite and her children and Joseph’s children.
MacKenzie and his militiaman came back to Jeanne.
“Where are the ships, Madame?”
“The men have taken them out.”
“All of them?”
“I’m not sure, Monsieur.”
“Where do they keep them?”
“Here, or up the rivière Nipisiguit.”
Jeanne was aware that René Gaudet was trying to catch her eye, but she avoided looking at him. Please don’t make things worse, she tried to silently warn him.
MacKenzie turned to his aide. “We’ll have to put these people in the hold of our ship,” he said reluctantly. “Go to it.”
“The men have found two families. One has a very sick elderly man and the other a woman about to give birth. What do we do with them?”
“Damnation! Leave them. And one of the women to look after them, but not someone capable of running to give the alarm.”
“Sir!”
“Do you women know where your men are? We know a number of Acadian resisters who have been harassing British ships are based here. Where are these men?”
Jeanne replied, “They could be anywhere, Monsieur, we have no way of knowing.” This was, after all the truth.
The refugee women and children were roughly pushed down to the shore, taken out by shallop to the British ships, and packed into dark, dirty, smelly holds.
Chapter 36
Captain Roderick MacKenzie and his Highlanders proceeded to capture Acadian refugees at Caraquet, Chipagan, Ristigouche, and all the other places listed in du Calvet’s census. A few places managed to hear the news before their arrival and families were able to flee into the forest. When MacKenzie arrived at Néguac, they found the village abandoned. In all, they captured almost eight hundred prisoners – men, women and children – and thirteen ships.
In
the end, MacKenzie could not take all the captured Acadians with him, but he made sure that he had the key troublemakers, men like Joseph Leblanc dit Le Maigre and his son Paul, whose ships were armed and equipped for privateering. Charles Dugas, because he was ill, was not taken prisoner. He remained in Caraquet with Anne and their children.
MacKenzie left with more than three hundred men, women and children packed into three warships and about half of the captured Acadian ships. The Acadian men who were allowed to sail their own ships with one or two Highlanders on board knew that their families were being held hostage in the holds of the British ships. The unused Acadian ships were destroyed or burned, as were the houses and equipment. Supplies were confiscated. Stocks of dried fish and even household furniture and other items were taken. Acadian refugees left behind would have no means to travel and would face a very difficult fight for survival in the coming winter.
Chapter 37
In the hold of the ship carrying Jeanne and Marguerite, the prisoners fell silent when they sensed they were headed out to sea. Even the children stopped asking questions their mothers could not answer. Their captors had not told them where they were going or what would happen to them. Were they being taken somewhere in Nova Scotia? Were they being deported? Had their husbands been captured too? After a few hours at sea, a crewman brought them some water to drink, but no food. They plied him with questions, but he said not a word.
The hopes that Jeanne had pinned on the census and Québec quickly disappeared. There was no evidence that an error had been made. What would happen to them now? Would they be reunited with their husbands? Jeanne and Marguerite did not need to remind each other of the stories of families torn apart during the deportations in 1755 and 1758. Jeanne could feel the outline of Sainte-Anne in her bundle and she kept one hand on the statuette in a desperate plea for her help.
Jeanne Dugas of Acadia Page 17