by Oliver North
He then gave Marie two small bottles with cork stoppers: one, a salve to put daily on the incision he left open and the other three open wounds so they will drain. His guidance for the other bottle, tincture of arnica, was apparently funny because they both laughed.
After Doctor Foucault departed, I asked her why she didn’t translate the second prescription and she said, “His instructions were to gently massage arnica into your shoulder but not into your bullet holes. He said arnica will relieve pain and stiffness but don’t do it for too long because beautiful young women giving massages to handsome young men often brings on stiffness in other places.”
Duquesne Fur Company, Rue du Sault-au-Matelot,
Quebec City, Canada
Friday, March 29th, 1776
Reconnecting with Natanis has not only resulted in my shoulder and head being nearly completely healed, it has also resulted in a plan for us to change our situation completely.
Natanis told Marie he is in contact with Lieutenant Archibald Steele who believes he has found a way to escape Prisoner of War confinement. According to Natanis, Lt. Steele’s wounded hand has nearly healed—though he is missing three fingers.
Steele wants to escape as soon as possible and has convinced those who will come with him not to try rejoining Colonel Arnold because all the American units in Canada now have dozens dying every week from smallpox.
Instead, Steele and his comrades want to get across the St. Lawrence and make their way back to civilization the way we came.
Duquesne Fur Company, Rue du Sault-au-Matelot,
Quebec City, Canada
Monday, April 1st, 1776
At the bakery this morning, Natanis informed Marie, unless she says “no” at the bakery on Tuesday morning, April, 2nd, Lt. Steele and four Pennsylvania Riflemen will come here to the warehouse on Tuesday night, shortly after dark. Natanis will be here to guide us down to the river where Indians with good canoes will be waiting, ready to transport us across the river to Pointe Lévis.
This information prompts a nearly all-day conversation between Marie and me about the wisdom of this plan. The question: Is this the right thing to do?
There is no doubt in my mind about my future. If I stay here, I will for certain eventually be caught by the British—an event undoubtedly with a very bad outcome for me and very likely for Marie as well for sequestering me.
Yet, for her to leave with me, as she insists she wants, means she will be giving up a very comfortable life—particularly in contrast with most if not all her neighbors.
She repeatedly asserts, “Nathanael, if you are going, I am going with you.”
“What about your father?” I ask. “The day the British officer asked where your father was you said, he was ‘at Fort Niagara . . .’ and that same night, when you were giving me my first ‘bath,’ you said he ‘is or was’ a very wise and wealthy man.
“From our hundreds of conversations these past three months you know everything about my family. Yet, I know almost nothing about yours.”
She shook her head, locked eyes with me, and said, “Listen carefully, my dear Nathanael.
“My father, Pierre Phillipe Sirois was born Catholic in Lyon, France in 1720. He came to Canada in 1739 and quickly became a very successful fur trapper. In 1744 he founded Duquesne Fur Company. Within five years DFC was the most successful venture of its kind in ‘New France.’
“By 1750 my father had dozens of trading posts, large and small, across Canada, New York, and Pennsylvania, all the way to the Ohio Valley. DFC had offices in Montreal, Quebec, New York, Boston, Norfolk, Paris, London, Lisbon, and Rotterdam. The company had a half dozen ships and more money than most of us can imagine.
“In 1756, when my father was thirty-six, in an Oneida Indian ceremony, he married my mother, Catherine, age nineteen, the daughter of a very powerful Oneida Bear Clan warrior and sachem with whom my father was doing a lot of business.
“That same year, France and Great Britain went to war and a British Army unit raided one of my father’s Oneida trading posts near the New York-Pennsylvania border where my mother and her father were visiting. My grandfather and sister, who was still a baby, were killed, and my mother was wounded.
“My father brought my mother back here, built this warehouse, and pledged then he would always despise the British. I was born here in 1758.
“My parents and I traveled frequently to Europe to promote my father’s fur business. In those travels both my parents learned the languages, spoken and written, of the countries we visited.
“We were in Lisbon when a Portuguese trader who had been to Japan, showed my father plans he brought home for a ‘bath,’ almost identical to the one in which we have been bathing.
“That’s how my parents learned about using half of a very large cask for a ‘tub,’ gravity-fed cisterns on the roof as a water source, and the benefits of regular bathing—all practically unheard of in Europe and this continent. You told me your father is an architect. If I can find the drawings for this one, I will take them with us so you can give them to your father, and he will forever be known as ‘Inventor of the Modern American bath room.’
“In 1766, the 10th anniversary of their ‘Oneida Wedding Ceremony’ my mother and father reaffirmed their wedding vows in a Christian ceremony performed by Presbyterian missionary Samuel Kirkland.6
“In the aftermath of the Treaty of Paris in 1763 ending the ‘Seven Years War’ between Great Britain and France, business became much more challenging for all the French-owned companies in Canada, including Duquesne Fur Company.
“In 1773, my father signed an agreement with the Hudson Bay Company to do a five-year ‘buy out’ of Duquesne Fur Company to be concluded no later than January 1st, 1778. Part of the contract is this warehouse, which remains the property of Duquesne Fur Company so long as DFC keeps its commitment to sell furs only to HBC.
“HBC failed to make its required payment to DFC on January 1st, 1775. After communicating through lawyers for months, my parents sailed from here to London on April 19th, the very day your brother was killed at Concord in Massachusetts.
“Since they arrived in London, I have received only two letters from them, one in June last year and a second last September. I have sent them a letter each month since they departed but have received no answers. I have no idea if they are alive or where they are.
“The British now rule Canada with the iron fist of martial law and I have no idea whether they are intercepting our correspondence. I need to get to one of our DFC offices where I can send and receive communications—hopefully with my parents—but at the very least with our many DFC lawyers.
“Going overseas right now is not a good idea for many reasons. The best thing I can do is get to New York City or Norfolk, Virginia. I have five thousand in Spanish silver dollar coins and an equal amount in British pound sterling coins in my father’s office safe. I need to get that specie out of Quebec as soon as I can.
“That’s one reason why I’m hoping and praying you will take me with you tomorrow night, Nathanael. Now, what else do you need to know about my family, dear one?”
I was, as I so often have been—to this very moment—stunned by Marie Sirois. Right from the first day when she saved my life, it was apparent she—or at least her family—had wealth. My father is an architect for affluent American families. But what Marie has shown me—and said over the last three months—is extraordinary.
All I could say in response to her query, “What else do you need to know about my family, dear one?” was with a question of my own: “How can I help you?”
She was still looking at me with those fascinating green eyes, her chin cupped in her right hand. She spoke very quietly, “We have talked about this enough. If you are leaving here—and you should—I am going with you.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You have said the same thing a
bout me. I care more about you than any of the material things here or anywhere else.
“Let’s pack up and be ready to leave with Natanis and Lieutenant Steele tomorrow night. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” she said with that beautiful smile. “Because I may be pregnant with your child.”
Newburyport, Massachusetts
Saturday, April 27th, 1776
Unlike our trip from Massachusetts to Quebec and all that’s happened since we arrived, our return was in every way the opposite, even though it didn’t begin that way.
As planned, Natanis arrived at the Personnel Door of the Duquesne Fur Company warehouse with two of his Indian guides precisely at 8:00 p.m. on Tuesday, April 2nd. An hour later, Lieutenant Archibald Steele, Ensign David Valinski, Sgt. Dennis Azato, and Corporals Joshua Smallbone, Michael Aitken, and Charles Holton arrived at the same portal.
That number, six, was two more than we expected. It was supposed to be Lt. Steele plus three. The other problem, the contents of the safe in Marie’s father’s office, was also numerical. Marie told me “ten thousand in Spanish dollars and pounds sterling.” But I failed to figure out what that would weigh. As it turns out it’s more than sixty pounds.
Natanis’s answer when I explained the situation to him (without letting on what we were bringing that weighed so much) is classic: “No problem.”
And it really was not a problem. Our trip back was so fast I’m still surprised when I look at the brief entries made in Journal 17 compared to my previous record:
9:00 a.m., Wednesday, April 3rd, 1776: Departed Pointe Lévis on horseback.
7:00 a.m., Thursday, April 4th, 1776: Departed Sartigan on horseback.
5:00 p.m., Tuesday, April 9th, 1776: Cleared top of River Chaudière. Met by Natanis’s friends with mounts for all.
4:30 p.m., Saturday, April 13th, 1776: Encamped on east bank of Lake Mégantic. Light rain with snow flurries.
3:00 p.m., Wednesday, April 17th, 1776: Completed traverse of Height of Land by horseback. Lt. Steele seems much fatigued. Tiny sliver of waning moon.
4:50 p.m. Saturday April 20th, 1776: We arrive at Natanis’s home on a beautiful early spring afternoon on banks of Dead River. Days getting noticeably longer and much warmer. Natanis has one of his Indians bring us some venison for dinner. Marie, wearing a traditional Oneida Indian one-piece dress, is the star attraction.
5:15 p.m. Wednesday, April 24th, 1776: Entire party arrives Fort Halifax via canoes rowed by Indians. Mr. Calvin Coolidge meets us with wagons to carry us down to Fort Western. He confirms rumors we have heard that British fled Boston when Col. Knox arrived with artillery from Boston.
3:00 p.m. Friday, April 26th, 1776: Entire Party arrives Fort Western, now abandoned as Arnold Expedition Rear Base. We press on to Gardinerston where Mr. Reuben Colburn has entire town turn out to “Welcome the ‘Famine Proof’ Quebec survivors home.” Natanis and his Indians bid us a tearful goodbye and head back up the Kennebec River. Based on the poor condition of Lt. Steele, Mr. Coburn books passage on a vessel tonight to Newburyport for Lt. Steele, Marie, Ensign Valinski, Sgt. Azato, Cpl. Holton, and me.
2:30 p.m. Saturday, April 27th, 1776: We arrive Newburyport to another grand welcome. Mr. Tracy of the local Committee of Safety comes aboard and volunteers to take Lt. Steele to the hospital after assuring him the smallpox epidemic has run its course.
As I was helping Lt. Steele down the gangway to the dock, I asked him, “Is the hardest part your wounded hand?”
“No, the hardest part of this whole affair for me was lying in the snow at the second barricade on Sault-au-Matelot watching Captain Morgan being forced to surrender. Did you see that?”
“No, I was wounded and pulled from the street before that.”
“We were completely overrun. His back was against the wall with nothing more than a short sword to wield. With twenty British muskets pointed at his chest, a Redcoat officer repeatedly demanded his sword, to which the captain said, “Come and take it if you have the nerve.”
“Did they kill my captain?”
“He saw a priest among those gathered round and said to him, ‘I give my sword to you; but not a scoundrel of these cowards shall take it out of my hands!’ Of all the men I’ve known in this war, none exceed Captain Morgan in my eyes.”
I knew then my adventures with Daniel Morgan were not at an end.
Marie and I accept an offered carriage ride to Wolfe’s Tavern.
Over dinner, we discuss our options. Everyone we have talked to since arriving at Gardinerston has told us there is little point in going on to Cambridge since the entire Continental Army is now in New York. It’s a place where her father’s company has offices.
Marie and I are talking about just that when in walks—or more accurately limps—Sgt. Steven Cady, the dragoon commander with whom I spent so much time here before the Arnold Expedition departed for Canada. He is not in uniform.
I rose, introduced him to Marie, invited him to join us for dinner, and asked him how he was injured.
“After the Arnold Expedition departed Newburyport, my squad of dragoons was assigned to the Life Guards, a new unit, mostly Marylanders, who have the responsibility for protecting His Excellency, General Washington, from harm.”
Two weeks ago, as General Washington’s headquarters staff was preparing to move down the turnpike toward New York City, my squad was ordered to reconnoiter the route, and a group of about fifty Tory bastards ambushed us. I took one of their musket balls in my left leg. Worse though, it passed straight through my calf and killed my great stallion. I’m now on thirty days of leave, waiting for the hole to heal.”
At this I pulled out of my pocket the .75-caliber ball Dr. Foucault cut out of my head, showed it to him and said, “Was it one like this?” and showed it to him, and he nodded.
When Marie excused herself to “go out back,” we bantered about where we were heading. She returned to the table just as Sgt. Cady said, “Sir, I recommend you take leave and you and your lady go back to Virginia for a while ’till the New York situation stabilizes. If you need any help getting there, I’m willing to help.”
At this, Marie surprised us by interjecting, “That sounds like a good idea.”
In the space of five minutes Sergeant Cady and I worked out a contract for him to rent a phaeton or a chaise, two good horses, and take us back where this all started.
Winchester, Virginia
Thursday, May 7th, 1776
Sgt. Cady pulled the reins back and shouted, “Whoah!” at the gate in front of our house.
Pieter and Lotte came running from their cottage, and Casey started her little “Spaniel dance” as I climbed down to help Marie out of the little cabin in which we had spent the last ten days—excluding the nights when we encamped in some delightful inns and taverns.
They were unloading our baggage when Rev. Thruston rode up on his well-lathered stallion shouting, “Welcome home, Nathanael! Welcome home!”
He dismounted, handed Pieter his reins, spun around, embraced me, and said, “You are an answer to my prayers!”
Then, with his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me out to the full length of his arms and looked me over head-to-toe for a full minute and said, “You have been wounded!”
“Yes, sir. But thanks be to God, not too badly. I am alive because of my doctor.”
At this, I beckoned to Marie and Lotte. Her arm around Marie’s waist, Lotte walked with her back to the gate. When they were beside us, I put my good left arm on her shoulders and said, “Reverend Thruston, this is Marie, my physician. She is an angel, sent by our Lord to save my life in Quebec. When can you make us husband and wife?”
His response was perfect. “Well, I suppose I can do it right now. We have witnesses, water in the trough, wine in your house. How about rings? Did either of you bring rings?”
“A month!” proclaimed Rev. Thruston. “That’s more time than most married couples spend together in a year. What did you talk about?”
She paused to see if I was going to respond and when I didn’t, she said, “I talked about a wedding and having children. All he talks about is how quickly he and Captain Morgan can get together to drive those red-breasted bâtards7 out of America.”
At this, Sgt. Cady, seated in the driver’s seat of the carriage said, “May I stay for both?”
Endnotes
1.Rue du Sault-au-Matelot, rough translation: “Street of the sailor’s leap” [or, “fall”]
2.Sally port: A heavy door in a gate or barricade designed to open only toward the attackers so defenders can emerge and counter-attack.
3.Ephesians 6:10–18 King James Version (KJV)
10Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
11Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.
12For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
13Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
14Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
15And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
16Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
17And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
18Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints.