– Le Norman de Mézy, ordnance officer at Louisbourg
Properly speaking, they have but two seasons, winter and autumn…
– Thomas Pichón, Genuine Letters and Memoirs (1760)
On May 2, 1744, the day after Joseph’s arrival in Louisbourg, a French sail appeared on the horizon, and a crowd gathered on the docks.
Peace or war? The question was on everyone’s lips. The answer was quick in coming. Copies of the March 15, 1744 decree posted throughout the city announced that Louis XV had declared war on England. Excitement reigned. Officers dreamt of possible promotions, and merchants speculated about the profits to be had by arming privateers’ ships. As for the inhabitants, they worried about food supplies. Joseph was very tempted to become a privateer; the prospect of capturing English ships and protecting the Acadian supply routes of Grand’Pré and Port-Royal, which, alone, could feed Louisbourg, was increasingly attractive. Adventure! It would be easy enough to do since Maurepas, Minister of the Navy, had sent undesignated commissions to allow for the arming of ships and the privateers’ war. But Gauthier, who said he had a choice position lined up for Joseph, advised him to wait.
Life in Louisbourg was far from easy. The barracks were dirty and infested with vermin. The straw mattresses, which were only changed once a year, were home to many an undesirable guest. Weather permitting, Joseph was not alone in choosing to sleep outside on the ramparts. The vile food took its toll on him: insipid seabiscuits, putrid-tasting raw pork fat or corned beef, and five pounds of molasses per month. Since the city was threatened with famine, there was no flour left with which to make six-pound loaves of bread, each soldier’s ration for four days. A riot was brewing among the fishermen. Those from Louisbourg and the De la Baleine and De Lorembec posts spoke of raiding the king’s stores. On Saturday, May 23rd, the pent-up frustration culminated in a public frenzy during the departure of the Dupont-Duvivier squadron, whose mission was to take the Canso post and thus protect the supply routes linking Louisbourg and Acadia.
But his day-to-day occupations brought home other realities to Joseph. Like all the other mercenaries, to supplement his pay he had to work on the fortifications repairing thirty-foot walls that were disintegrating from the effects of frost and humidity. It was hard work that led to many a hernia and fracture. Joseph was assigned to a group working on the batteries on Ile de l’Entrée, not far from the harbour. Fourteen hours a day of inhumane labour. From five o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock at night, in the cold and the fog, digging down to the rock (three cubic toises1 worth by eight men in ten days), transporting from Port-Toulouse the earth used to make bricks, preparing stones to be carved to fit the bastion’s angles, and cooking limestone in the ovens where the mercenaries’ rage crackled with as much fire as the flames.
In search of oblivion, Joseph gambled, playing hoc mostly, which was introduced to France in Mazarin’s time. Gambling fever was everywhere; people vied to predict when the next ship would arrive or whether the newborn would be a boy or girl. In taverns, gambling incited people to drink tafia, and alcoholism ran rampant. When they weren’t drinking, the men chased after native women. Alcohol and women were their only outlets. After their wages were distributed, soldiers disappeared into taverns to drown their sorrows and rake up gambling debts. In the public square, it was not uncommon to see a soldier collapsed over a wooden horse, his back red from the lashing he’d received for damage he’d caused while drunk. Joseph was drawn to all kinds of games: cards, dice, and games of chance. To him, risk-taking was one way of influencing fate and resisting the inescapable.
But Louisbourg did not have much to offer in the way of risks. So boredom began to gnaw at him. During his days on the ramparts, his eyes strayed to the bouquets of what looked like white umbrellas that carved up the fields – angelica, the lovely aromatic plant with medicinal properties that was also used in sweets. The flower’s name reminded him of his Angélique, whose scent and taste were every bit as captivating. Nights on the ramparts, when he was alone under the stars, were worst of all. Surrounded by scaffolding and unfinished fortifications, lit by the diffuse light of the lantern in the tower that guided ships within the basin, he could not get warm under his heavy pea jacket and leather cape. He remembered Angélique’s warmth, Membertous affection, Geneviève and Josette’s pink cheeks and fresh scent, and old Saint-Jean’s good spirits. Sometimes he woke up perspiring and anxious, as though afraid he’d be forced to live forever parted from his loved ones, wondering what had gotten into him to leave all that for this godforsaken place. Other nights, memories of Emilie came to him, especially once the tall ships departed for Europe. At times like those, he was tormented by the desire to see her again. Even moreso when he read or reread her letter, remembered her features, and stroked her portrait, which he placed religiously in his little chest after each session. Sometimes Angéliques features were superimposed on Emilie’s portrait and the battle began again, one image chasing the other then fading away, leaving him with the first image.
May was not yet over when the Duvivier expedition returned to Louisbourg and announced the capture of Canso and several English ships, seven hundred head of livestock, and two thousand sheep. The city rejoiced; pride, excitement, and tales of adventure were in the air. Joseph’s impatience grew as he watched the English prisoners file by. François Bauchet de Saint-Martin, captain of the Signe, was responsible for several captures as were Pierre Detcheverry and Jean Fougère, although the latter had a surprise in store for him since his captures didn’t count because he didn’t have a proper commission as a privateer. In a flagrant case of conflict of interest, knowing what side their bread was buttered on, Bigot, Duquesnel, and Duvivier had armed the Cantabre with cannons and swivel guns.
Gauthier finally found a choice spot for Joseph on the schooner Le Succès, with the famous Pierre Morpain, captain of the Louisbourg port. Morpain was a strapping fellow who had chalked up all kinds of exploits along the coasts of the American colonies. Before the fall of Acadia – Grand’Pré, Port-Royal, and the others – he had been part of a privateers’ war some thirty years earlier, and the sea held no secrets for him.
Joseph went to fetch his privateer’s sabre in the barracks located behind the king’s bastion, the largest building in New France and probably in all of North America. It measured 375 feet long. Behind the Bourbons’ coat of arms engraved in the stone, he heard voices raised and a heated discussion on the famine and English prisoners. Some fishermen were cursing the merchants, accusing them of depriving the locals of needed goods because of their traffic with the prisoners. It was true there had never been so many English prisoners in the city before – between those on the ships at anchor and those in individuals’ homes – and their slightest actions fed the rumour mill. The problem should be solved soon, Joseph thought, since they’ll be exchanged for the French prisoners held in Boston.
As the huge bell in the clocktower above the chapel rang out the angelus, Joseph joined Morpain’s crew and entered the privateers’ world. Much more of an adventure than mending his uniform, cleaning his musket, or cobbling his shoes. No more soldier’s work! This was a different world. A people apart, whose code of solidarity was inspired by the law of the sea. With the help of the first mate Robichaud, Joseph learned to read the portolans, the charts that showed navigational routes as black dots on blue seas. They also showed drawings of blazons, frigates, and strange animals; monsters or winged mermaids for mysterious or mythical locations. He discovered how to wield a sabre, learned how to run across the deck, and climb the rigging. After some time spent scanning the horizon for sails or potential catches, aiming cannons at targets, and preparing to board, Joseph considered himself a match for the privateer Jean Bart – and Sinbad. His universe revolved around the space between the bow and the stern post, between port and starboard, a world bristling with masts – foresails, topmast, mizzens, bowsprits – and an empire dotted with guy ropes, yards, and sails, where the lug sail had to be furled, the jib brought in, and the topsails and mainsail brailed when the captain luffed in the wind.
In