The Raid from Beausejour; and How the Carter Boys Lifted the Mortgage Part 1

The Raid From Beausejour; And How The Carter Boys Lifted The Mortgage.

by Charles G. D. Roberts.

THE RAID FROM BEAUSeJOUR.

CHAPTER I.

"BEAUBa.s.sIN MUST GO!"

On the hill of Beausejour, one April morning in the year 1750 A.D., a little group of French soldiers stood watching, with gestures of anger and alarm, the approach of several small s.h.i.+ps across the yellow waters of Chignecto Bay. The s.h.i.+ps were flying British colors. Presently they came to anchor near the mouth of the Missaguash, a narrow tidal river about two miles to the southeast of Beausejour.

There the s.h.i.+ps lay swinging at their cables, and all seemed quiet on board. The group on Beausejour knew that the British would attempt no landing for some hours, as the tide was scarce past the ebb, and half a mile of red mire lay between the water and the firm green edges of the marsh.

The French soldiers were talking in loud, excited tones. As they spoke a tallish lad drew near and listened eagerly. The boy, who was apparently about sixteen or seventeen years of age, was clad in the rough, yellow-gray homespun cloth of the Acadians. His name was Pierre Lecorbeau, and he had just come from the village of Beauba.s.sin to carry eggs, milk, and cheeses to the camp on Beausejour. The words he now heard seemed to concern him deeply, for his dark face paled anxiously as he listened.

"Yes, I tell you," one of the soldiers was saying, "Beauba.s.sin must go.

Monsieur the abbe has said so. You know, he came into camp this morning about daybreak, and has been shut up with the colonel ever since. But he talks so loud when he's angry that Jacques has got hold of all his plans.

His Reverence has brought two score of his Micmacs with him from Cobequid, and has left 'em over in the woods behind Beauba.s.sin. He swears that sooner than let the English establish themselves in the village and make friends with those mutton-head Acadians, he will burn the whole place to the ground."

"And he'll do it, too, will the terrible father!" interjected another soldier.

"When will the fun begin?" asked a third.

"O!" responded the first speaker, "if the villagers make no fuss, and are ready to cross the river and come and settle over here with us, they shall have all the time they want for removing their stuff--all day, in fact.

But if they are stubborn, and would like to stay where they are, and knuckle down to the English, they will see their roofs blazing over their heads just about the time the first English boat puts off for sh.o.r.e. If any one kicks, why, as like as not, one of His Reverence's red skins will lift his hair for him."

A chorus of exclamations, with much shrugging of shoulders, went round the group at this; and one said thoughtfully: "When my fighting days are over, and I get back to France, I shall pray all the saints to keep Father Le Loutre in Acadie. With such fierce priests in old France I should be afraid to go to ma.s.s!"

Pierre listened to all this with a sinking heart. Not waiting to hear more, he turned away, with the one thought of getting home as soon as possible to warn his father of the destruction hanging over their happy home. At this moment the soldier who had been doing most of the talking caught sight of him, and called out:

"Hullo, youngster, come here a minute!"

Pierre turned back with obvious reluctance, and the speaker continued:

"Your father, now, the good Antoine--whom may the saints preserve, for his b.u.t.ter and his cheeses are right excellent--does he greatly love this gentle abbe of yours?"

The boy looked about him apprehensively, and blurted out, "No, monsieur!" A flush mounted to his cheek, and he continued, in a voice of bitterness, "We hate him!" Then, as if terrified with having spoken his true thought, the lad darted away down the slope, and was soon seen speeding at a long trot across the young gra.s.s of the marsh to the ford of the Missaguash.

At the time when our story opens, events in Acadie were fast ripening to that unhappy issue known as "the expulsion of the Acadians," which furnished Longfellow with the theme of "Evangeline." The Acadian peninsula, now Nova Scotia, had been ceded by France to England.

The dividing line between French and English territory was the Missaguash stream, winding through the marshes of the isthmus of Chignecto which connects Acadie with the mainland. The Acadians had become British subjects in name, but all the secret efforts of France were devoted to preventing them from becoming so in sentiment. What is now New Brunswick was still French territory, as were also Prince Edward Island and Cape Breton. It was the hope of the French king, Louis XV, that if the Acadians could be kept thoroughly French at heart Acadie might yet be won back to s.h.i.+ne on the front of New France.

As the two nations were now at peace, any tampering with the allegiance of the Acadians could only be carried on in secret. In the hands of the French there remained just two forces to be employed--persuasion and intimidation; and their religion was the medium through which these forces were applied. The Acadians had their own priests. Such of these as would lend themselves to the schemes of the government were left in their respective parishes; others, more conscientious, were transferred to posts where their scruples would be less inconvenient.

If any Acadian began to show signs of wis.h.i.+ng to live his own life quietly, careless as to whether a Louis or a George reigned over him, he was promptly brought to terms by the threat that the Micmacs, who remained actively French, would be turned loose upon him. Under such a threat the unhappy Acadian made all haste to forget his partiality for the lenient British rule.

The right hand of French influence in Acadie at this time was the famous Abbe Le Loutre, missionary to the Micmac Indians at Cobequid.

To this man's charge may well be laid the larger part of the misfortunes which befell the Acadian people. He was violent in his hatred of the English, unscrupulous in his methods, and utterly pitiless in the carrying out of his project. His energy and his vindictiveness were alike untiring; and his ascendency over his savage flock, who had been Christianized in name only, gave a terrible weapon into his hands.

Liberal were the rewards this fierce priest drew from the coffers of Quebec and of Versailles.

In order to keep the symbol of French power and authority ever before Acadian eyes, and to hinder the spread of English influence, a force had been sent from Quebec, under the officers La Corne and Boishebert, to hold the hill of Beausejour, which was practically the gate of Acadie.

From Beausejour the flouris.h.i.+ng settlement of Beauba.s.sin, on the English side of the Missaguash, was overawed and kept to the French allegiance.

The design of the French was to induce all those Acadians whom they could absolutely depend upon to remain in their homes within the English lines, as a means whereby to confound the English counsels. Those, however, who were suspected of leaning to the British, either from sloth or policy, were to be bullied, coaxed, frightened, or compelled by Le Loutre and his braves into forsaking their comfortable homes and moving into new settlements on the French side of the boundary.

But the English authorities at Halifax, after long and astonis.h.i.+ng forbearance, had begun to develop a scheme of their own; and the fleet which, on this April morning, excited such consternation among the watchers on Beausejour, formed a part of it. Lord Cornwallis had decided that an English force established in Beauba.s.sin would be the most effective check upon the influence of Beausejour; and the vessels now at anchor off the mouth of the red and winding Missaguash contained a little army of four hundred British troops, under command of Major Lawrence. This expedition had been sent out from Halifax with a commendable secrecy, but neither its approach nor its purpose could be kept hidden from the ever-alert Le Loutre. Since Beauba.s.sin was on British soil, no armed opposition could be made to the landing of the British force; and the troops on Beausejour could only gnaw their mustaches and gaze in angry silence. But Le Loutre was resolved that on the arrival of the British there should be no more Beauba.s.sin.

The villagers were not to remain in such bad company!

Pierre Lecorbeau was swift of foot. As he sped across the gray-green levels, at this season of the year spongy with rains, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the abbe, with his companions, just quitting the log cabin which served as the quarters of Boishebert. The boy's brow took on a yet darker shadow. When he reached the top of the dike that bordered the Missaguash, he paused an instant and gazed seaward.

Pierre was eagerly French at heart, loving France, as he hated Le Loutre, with a fresh and young enthusiasm; and as his eyes rested on the crimson folds, the red, blue, and white crosses that streamed from the topmasts of the English s.h.i.+ps, his eyes flashed with keen hostility. Then he vanished over the dike, and was soon splas.h.i.+ng through the muddy shallows of the ford. The water was fast deepening, and he thought to himself, "If Monsieur the abbe doesn't hurry, he will have to swim where I am walking but knee-deep!"

There was another stretch of marsh for Pierre to cross ere reaching the gentle and fruitful slopes on which the village was outspread.

On the very edge of the village, halfway up a low hill jutting out into the Missaguash marsh, stood the cabin of Pierre's father amid its orchards. There was little work to do on the farm at this season.

The stock had all been tended, and the family were gathered in the kitchen when Pierre, breathless and gasping, burst in with his evil tidings.

Now in the household of Antoine Lecorbeau, and in Beauba.s.sin generally, not less than among the garrison of Beausejour, the coming of the English fleet had produced a commotion. But in the heart of Lecorbeau there was less anxiety than curiosity. This temperate and sagacious farmer, had preserved an appearance of unimpeachable fidelity to the French, but in his inmost soul he appreciated the tolerance of the British rule, and longed to see it strengthened. If the visitors were coming to stay, as was rumored to be the case, then, to Antoine Lecorbeau's thinking, the day was a lucky one for Beauba.s.sin. He thought how he would snap his fingers at Le Loutre and his Micmacs.

But he was beginning to exult too soon.

When Pierre told his story, and the family realized that their kindly home was doomed, the little dark kitchen, with its wooden ceiling, was filled with lamentations. Such of the children as were big enough to understand the calamity wept aloud, and the littler ones cried from sympathy. Pierre's father for a moment appeared bowed down beneath the stroke, but the mother, a stout, dark, gentle-faced woman, suddenly stopped her sobs and cried out in a shrill voice, with her queer Breton accent:

"Antoine, Antoine, we will defy the wicked, cruel abbe, and pray the English to protect us from him. Did not Father Xavier, just before he was sent away, tell us that the English were just, and that it was our duty to be faithful to them? How can we go out into this rough spring weather with no longer a roof to cover us?"

This appeal roused the Acadian. His shrewd sense and knowledge of those with whom he had to deal came at once to his aid.

"Nay, nay, mother!" said he, rising and pa.s.sing his gnarled hand over his forehead, "it is even as Pierre has said. We must be the first to do the bidding of the abbe, and must seem to do it of our own accord.

It will be hours yet ere the English be among us, and long ere Le Loutre will have had time to work his will upon those who refuse to do his bidding. Do thou get the stuff together. This night we must sleep on the sh.o.r.e of the stream and find us a new home at Beausejour.

To the sheds, Pierre, and yoke the cattle. Hurry, boy, hurry, for there is everything to do and small time for the doing of it."

From Lecorbeau's cottage the news of Le Loutre's decree spread like wildfire through the settlement. Some half dozen reckless characters declared at once in the abbe's favor, and set out across the marsh to welcome him and offer their aid. A few more, a very few, set themselves reluctantly to follow the example of Antoine Lecorbeau, who bore a great name in the village for his wise counsels. But most of the villagers got stubborn, and vowed that they would stay by their homes, whether it was Indians or English bid them move. The resolution of these poor souls was perhaps a little shaken as a long line of painted and befeathered Micmacs, appearing from the direction of the wooded hills of Jolicoeur, drew stealthily near and squatted down in the outermost skirts of the village. But Beauba.s.sin had not had the experience with Le Loutre that had fallen to the lot of other settlements, and the unwise ones hardened their hearts in their decision.

As Le Loutre, with his little party, entered the village, he met Antoine Lecorbeau setting out for Beausejour with a huge cartload of household goods, drawn by a yoke of oxen. The abbe's fierce, close-set eyes gleamed with approval, and he accosted the old man in a cordial voice.

"This is indeed well done, Antoine. I love thy zeal for the grand cause.

The saints will a.s.suredly reward thee, and I will myself do for thee the little that lies in my poor power! But why so heavy of cheer, man?"

"Alas, father!" returned Lecorbeau, sadly, "this is a sorrowful day.

It is a grievous hards.h.i.+p to forsake one's hearth, and these fruitful fields, and this well bearing orchard that I have planted with my own hands. But better this than to live in humiliation and in jeopardy every hour; for I learn that these English are coming to take possession and to dwell among us!"

The abbe, as Lecorbeau intended, quite failed to catch the double meaning in this speech, which he interpreted in accordance with his own feelings. Like many another unscrupulous deceiver, Le Loutre was himself not difficult to deceive.

"Well, cheer up, Antoine!" he replied, "for thou shalt have good lands on the other side of the hill; and thou wilt count thyself blest when thou seest what shall happen to some of these slow beasts here, who care neither for France nor the Church so long as they be let alone to sleep and fill their bellies."

As the great cart went creaking on, Lecorbeau looked over his shoulder, with an inscrutable gaze, and watched the retreating figure of the priest.

"Thou mayst be a good servant to France," he murmured, "but it is an ill service, a sorry service, thou dost the Church!"

Within the next few hours, while Antoine and his family had been getting nearly all their possessions across the Missaguash, first by the fords, and then by the aid of the great scow which served for a ferry at high tide, the tireless abbe had managed to coax or threaten nearly every inhabitant of the village. His Indians stalked after him, apparently heedless of everything. His few allies among the Acadians, who had a.s.sumed the Indian garb for the occasion, scattered themselves over the settlement repeating the abbe's exhortations; but the villagers, though with anxious hearts, held to their cabins, refusing to stir, and watching for the English boats to come ash.o.r.e. They did not realize how intensely in earnest and how merciless the abbe could be, for they had nothing but hearsay and his angry face to judge by. But their awakening was soon to come.

Early in the afternoon the tide was nigh the full. At a signal from the masthead of the largest s.h.i.+p there spread a sudden activity throughout the fleet, and immediately a number of boats were lowered.

For this the abbe had been waiting. s.n.a.t.c.hing a blazing splinter of pine from the hearth of a cottage close to the church, he rushed up to the homely but sacred building about which cl.u.s.tered the warmest affections of the villagers. At the same moment several of his followers appeared with armfuls of straw from a neighboring barn. This inflammable stuff, with some dry brush, was piled into the porch and fired by the abbe's own hand. The structure was dry as tinder, and almost instantly a volume of smoke rolled up, followed by long tongues of eager flame, which looked strangely pallid and cruel in the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne.

A yell broke from the Indians, and then there fell a silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames. The English troops, realizing in a moment what was to occur, bent to their oars with redoubled vigor, thinking to put a stop to the shameless work. And the name of Le Loutre was straightway on their lips.