The Forge in the Forest
Page 1
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: On a block just inside the door sat Marc.]
The Forge in the Forest
Being
_The Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, Seigneur de Briart; and how he crossed the Black Abbe; and of his Adventures in a Strange Fellowship_
By
Charles G. D. Roberts
Lamson, Wolffe and Company
Boston, New York and London
William Briggs, Toronto
MDCCCXCVI
Copyright, 1896,
By Lamson, Wolffe and Company.
_All rights reserved_
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
To
George E. Fenety, Esq.
This Story of a Province among whose Honoured Sons he is not least distinguished is dedicated with esteem and affection
Map of Peninsula of Acadie (Nova Scotia)]
Contents
_Part I.--Marc_
A Foreword
Chapter
I. The Capture at the Forge II. The Black Abbe III. Tamin's Little Stratagem IV. The Governor's Signature V. In the Run of the Seas VI. Grul VII. The Commander is Embarrassed VIII. The Black Abbe Comes to Dinner IX. The Abbe Strikes Again X. A Bit of White Petticoat XI. I Fall a Willing Captive
_Part II.--Mizpah_
XII. In a Strange Fellowship XIII. My Comrade XIV. My Comrade Shoots Excellently Well XV. Grul's Hour XVI. I Cool My Adversaries' Courage XVII. A Night in the Deep XVIII. The _Osprey_, of Plymouth XIX. The Camp by Canseau Strait XX. The Fellowship Dissolved XXI. The Fight at Grand Pre XXII. The Black Abbe Strikes in the Dark XXIII. The Rendezvous at the Forge
Part I
Marc
The Forge in the Forest
A Foreword
Where the Five Rivers flow down to meet the swinging of the Minastides, and the Great Cape of Blomidon bars out the storm and the fog,lies half a county of rich meadow-lands and long-arcaded orchards. Itis a deep-bosomed land, a land of fat cattle, of well-filled barns, ofample cheeses and strong cider; and a well-conditioned folk inhabit it.But behind this countenance of gladness and peace broods the memory ofa vanished people. These massive dykes, whereon twice daily the hugetide beats in vain, were built by hands not suffered to possess thefruits of their labour. These comfortable fields have been scorchedwith the ruin of burning homes, drenched with the tears of womenhurried into exile. These orchard lanes, appropriate to the laughterof children or the silences of lovers, have rung with battle and rundeep with blood. Though the race whose bane he was has gone, stillstalks the sinister shadow of the Black Abbe.
The low ridge running between the dykelands of the Habitants and thedyke-lands of the Canard still carries patches of forest interspersedamong its farms, for its soil is sandy and not greatly to be covetedfor tillage. These patches are but meagre second growth, with here andthere a gnarled birch or overpeering pine, lonely survivor of theprimeval brotherhood. The undergrowth has long smoothed out all tracesof what a curious eye might fifty years ago have discerned,--thefoundations of the chimney of a blacksmith's forge. It is a mould wellsteeped in fateful devisings, this which lies forgotten under thecreeping roots of juniper and ragged-robin, between the diminishedstream of Canard and the yellow tide of Habitants.
The forest then was a wide-spreading solemnity of shade wherein armiesmight have moved unseen. The forge stood where the trail from Pereauran into the more travelled road from the Canard to Grand Pre. Thebranches of the ancient wood came down all about its low eaves; and thesquirrels and blue jays chattered on its roof. It was a place for thegathering of restless spirits, the men of Acadie who hated to acceptthe flag of the English king. It was the Acadian headquarters of thenoted ranger, Jean de Mer, who was still called by courtesy, and by thegrace of such of his people as adhered to his altered fortunes, theSeigneur de Briart. His father had been lord of the whole regionbetween Blomidon and Grand Pre; but the English occupation had deprivedhim of all open and formal lordship, for the de Briart sword wasnotably conspicuous on the side of New France. Nevertheless, many ofJean de Mer's habitants maintained to him a chivalrous allegiance, andpaid him rents for lands which in the English eye were freeholdproperties. He cherished his hold upon these faithful folk, willing byall honest means to keep their hearts to France. His one son, Marc,grew up at Grand Pre, save for the three years of his studying atQuebec. His faithful retainer, Babin, wielding a smith's hammer at theForge, had ears of wisdom and a tongue of discretion for the men whocame and went. Once or twice in the year, it was de Mer's custom tovisit the Grand Pre country, where he would set his hand to the work ofthe forge after Babin's fashion, playing his part to the befooling ofEnglish eyes, and taking, in truth, a quaint pride in his pretendedcraft. At the time, however, when this narrative opens, he had been awhole three years absent from the Acadian land, and his home-coming wasyet but three days old.