“Don’t you have any better news for us than that?” asked Jehan, who hadn’t lost his sense of humour.
“Not really,” DesRoches continued. “Other than the fact that Abbot Leloutre’s Mi’kmaq weren’t able to recapture Port-Royal.”
Captain Lelarge exploded, “How do you expect Indians to succeed with their tomahawks where Duvivier’s troops failed with their rifles… We promised to send Louisbourg our warships Caribou and L’Ardent, but we never did… We missed our chance to take back Acadia.”
The privateer Detcheverry was equally furious, “It’s the governor who’s at fault; he’s too frightened by the English blockade. We could have won the battle with a few cannons. With my ship, if I’d been asked, I would have succeeded,” he bragged.
“What about the Acadians from Grand’Pré and Port-Royal?” Joseph asked.
“I think they’re going to wait to see which way the wind is blowing,” said Lelarge. “René LeBlanc has a lot of influence over there and he’s in favour of collaborating with the British.”
“That’s understandable. He has contracts with them,” Samson said.
Mrs. DesRoches, a woman who never minced her words, put in her two bits’ worth, “Patriotism is just another word for money and self-interest!”
Joseph disagreed. He thought, Gauthier helped the French. Its true he has contracts in Louisbourg and that his daughter is married to a garrison officer, but he runs the risk of imprisonment and ruin if he’s caught. He puts his honour before money.
The discussion turned to the fortress.
“Louisbourg’s walls will collapse at the first cannon shot,” Thierry predicted. “Any fool knows you can’t make mortar with sea sand.”
Joseph let his thoughts on the art of war be known. “The engineers De Verville and De Verrier implemented principles of defence established by the French military engineer and marshal, the Marquis de Vauban, by building a fortress reputed to be a chef d’oeuvre where fortifications are concerned. But I don’t see the logic in building a fortress that’s surrounded by hills. If the British installed cannons on land, we couldn’t defend ourselves since most of our cannons, the biggest ones, are placed so as to counter an attack coming from the sea.”
“We’re wasting money on the fortress instead of sending colonists. To think that rivers of blood are flowing in Europe when a few thousand French soldiers would be enough to ensure a victory,” Samson said.
Detcheverry intervened, “The cost of Louisbourg is a carefully tended fiction. Don’t forget the fortunes made in the cod trade, which has helped fill the Bourbons’ coffers. There’s also the need to protect New France and the fur trade. It never cost more to build the fortress, even in the free-spending years, than it costs every year to arm and send a large warship here. At little expense, France has a navy base and a trading port to enrich the mother country.”
“Speaking of money,” Thierry said, “you know the proverb ‘No Switzerland without money’ Well, the Swiss in the Karrer regiment are unhappy. They’re Lutherans and are only defending the fortress for the money. Now they’re not being paid for their work on the fortifications. I’m afraid a mutiny is in the works.”
A feeling of malaise blew through the hut. Hunger, war, mutiny, what next! Lelarge, who’d been planning to arm the Brasdor, a ship belonging to the entrepreneur Maillet, with cannons, muskets, sabres, axes, and a hundred-man crew, began wondering how sound his project was; it seemed he could well be up against forces stronger than he was. Like any good hostess, Mrs. DesRoches knew when a change was needed. She fetched a pitcher of rum that she set down on the table next to the steaming pot. “It’s the best cod in all America,” she explained. “My husband only kept the lingcod. He’s been fishing here for fifty years and, when we lived in France, he made the crossing every spring.”
“How long has there been fishing around Louisbourg?” Joseph asked.
“To give you an idea,” Detcheverry answered, “when the writer Marc Lescarbot came to Canso in 1607 and met an old Basque fisherman, Captain Savalette from San Juan de Luz, the Basque was on his forty-second Atlantic crossing. And others had been coming long before that!”
1. One toise is equal to approximately two metres.
Chapter 11
The port of Louisbourg could be called the key to the French and British colonies in North America. Control of the port would make the king of Great Britain ruler of the entire northern continent as far south as the French settlements along the Mississippi (Louisiana). With an influx of British subjects, given this country’s healthy climate, within one or two centuries it could become as populated as France and serve as a foundation for the superiority of British power over the European continent.
– Shirley, Governor of Massachusetts
Joseph was on watch duty on November 30th in the sentinel box at the Dauphine demi-bastion. He stood guard for one hour as prescribed by the winter schedule; that was quite long enough for him to be chilled through and through despite a few swigs of alcohol. It had been a particularly miserable day. The sea fog had never lifted, a light drizzle drenched him to the bone, and the wind whipped the coastline and cut off the tops of scraggy spruce trees. Around noon, huge gusts of wind blew and the sea pounded the capes. Late in the afternoon, the gusts died down and wet snow blanketed the ramparts. The snow fell in heavy flakes driven horizontally by a wind so strong it cut one’s breath off. It was hard to imagine a more turbulent, melancholy landscape. All day long, the port was busy gearing up for the departure for France of four thousand men and fifty-three ships, including four warships and six huge ships belonging to the Compagnie des Indes; the convoy would take advantage of the cover of darkness to sail unseen past the English cannons.
It was about time, Joseph thought. The level of rationing was getting to be quite alarming
Joseph counted the ships as they left the port and wondered why he wasn’t leaving on one of them. Off to see and touch Emilie, to come full circle, break the spell. The question lingered in his mind as he watched the unending procession of ships vanish into the night.
* * *
Joseph had matured over the long months spent rubbing shoulders with other soldiers and witnessing plots being hatched and unravelling on a daily basis. He was sick of seeing the officers and gentry getting rich on the backs of the soldiers and people; the injustice appalled him. “They’re con artists getting rich at the colony’s expense,” he concluded. Troop morale was at its lowest point, and the horrid weather only made matters worse. What’s more, the stench of rancid cod wafted constantly over the ramparts. Tension increased another notch when, a few days before Christmas, the soldiers received their bimonthly rations. The peas and dry beans for the soup had gone bad and caused illness and diarrhea. “Fresh vegetables are being hoarded for the people with money,” was the word in the barracks. When the officers requisitioned the wood the soldiers had chopped to heat the barracks, it was as though they’d thrown a match into a woodpile. This was intolerable! Wood was as important as bread in the winter.
* * *
Joseph was on duty on the evening of December 26th at the mansion of the Governor Louis du Pont du Chambon. During the festivities, they needed enough wood to heat the fireplaces. Joseph was able to watch “high society” in action and see the distance that separated him from them. All kinds of beautiful people paraded through the mansion: members of the council and the bailiwick, the entire Admiralty, the king’s scribe, the king’s engineers and surveyors and, of course, the officers, who were all members of the aristocracy. Governor du Chambon was the successor to DuQuesnel, who had died in October. Du Chambon’s wife was the beautiful Jeanne Mius d’Entremont. The