Jeanne Dugas of Acadia

by Cassie Deveaux Cohoon

  —

  Their houses in Port Toulouse were still standing, although stripped of anything that could be carried away and used. It didn’t matter. It meant coming home. The place that Jeanne had once found basic and lacking the comforts she had been used to in Louisbourg and Grand-Pré now looked wonderful. Both Jeanne and Marie Braud wept when they arrived. A stricken Marguerite, who was afraid that the sudden decision to leave had been made on her account, asked them if it was all her fault. “No, Marguerite,” Jeanne said, “we’re crying because we’re happy to be home.” Joseph held his daughter in his arms and told her roughly that nothing was her fault.

  “Will we stay here now?” Marguerite asked. No one could answer her.

  The grown-ups knew that winter would give them a respite from enemy attack. They also knew they would have to leave Port Toulouse and Île Royale in the spring, and that finding a place of refuge would become increasingly difficult.

  Jeanne was racked with worry from all sides. She worried for the safety of her immediate family and for Joseph and his children and Marie Braud, and for her brothers Charles and Abraham and their families. Secretly, her thoughts were often of Martin Sauvage as well. But she could not let Marie Braud and the children see how anguished she was.

  Jeanne knew that Joseph was greatly worried and that he felt responsible for all of them at Port Toulouse. She wondered now if he regretted not following his brothers to Miramichi, but did not want to ask. He continued to answer her questions but did not volunteer any further details.

  —

  Joseph of course understood the larger course of events. Louisbourg was very important to King Louis XV. It was the French king’s key to his possessions in the colonies. France could not afford to lose the fortress, but it had heavy obligations in other parts of the world. Due to the uncertainty that war brings, the cod trade was much diminished and did not cover the expenses of maintaining the fortress and defending it in yet another war. The costs had to be borne by France; the French settlers and the Mi’kmaq could not defend themselves against the British.

  The government of France was also facing problems in Louisbourg itself. The fortress was in a state of disrepair. It was becoming more and more difficult to obtain food supplies in the new world. The hope that the Acadians who had migrated to Île Saint-Jean would be able to supply livestock and provisions to Île Royale had not been realized. In fact, Île Royale had to supply the Acadians. Moreover, New France had had several years of bad harvests and had no surplus provisions to send. And there was always the threat that the British would run a blockade against French ships carrying provisions to Louisbourg.

  Meanwhile, the rounding up and deportation of neutral Acadians had continued throughout 1756.

  Chapter 21

  The condition of the three houses on the Dugas land, the scarcity of food, the lack of farm animals – although they did find one abandoned cow – made it difficult to keep up the pretence of living a normal life in Port Toulouse. Jeanne now realized this was something she had come to expect; it was even a source of pride to the Dugas family. As well-to-do Acadians they had lived well and continued to do so even in difficult times, as if it were their due. It was something her family had done in Louisbourg leading up to its first defeat, at Grand-Pré when they visited and then lived with relatives and even, on a lesser scale, at Port Toulouse when she and Joseph had come to settle here after the return of Île Royale to the French. But not this time.

  This winter, in addition to the physical discomforts they endured, Jeanne felt as if their homestead was surrounded by a horde of redcoats hovering just on the edge of their little world and ready to pounce on them. The winter itself was long and unpleasant and spring arrived late in 1757. Nearly half a metre of snow fell during the first half of May.

  They had decided to use only two of the houses, with Jeanne, Pierre, their children and Grandfather Coste in one, and Joseph, his children, his father-in-law and Marie Braud in the other. They put the precious cow in the third house. Grandfather Coste managed to find some fairly dry cut wood and they used it sparingly with green wood for heating and cooking. Joseph and Pierre fished and hunted small animals. A real hardship was that they had no flour, until one day Joseph, after one of his scouting trips, appeared with a full barrel of it, unspoiled. “Don’t ask me,” he warned.

  They had shelter, they had food, they had each other, and Le Maigre kept his distance from Jeanne, for which she was grateful. Now she knew what it was to be grateful, and to pray seriously to God to keep them safe. First on her list were Marie, Pierrot and Angélique. Pierre and Grandfather Coste. Joseph, his children and Marie Braud. Even Le Maigre – that he not do anything rash that might bring disaster upon them. She included all her other relatives in one basket. At the very end of her prayer she shyly asked le bon Dieu to protect Martin Sauvage.

  Jeanne did not let her children out of her sight. Marie was now a quiet but alert three-year-old, Pierrot a lively handful at two, and Angélique had just turned one. Jeanne worried that her youngest might have the weak health of her own sister, Angélique. For hours each day, while she worked in the house, Jeanne carried Angélique next to her heart in a sling, trying to impart to her some of her own strength. Joseph’s children and Marie Braud spent most of their days at Jeanne’s house and there was a sense of security in being together in one place. They sang the old songs to the children to keep them amused and Grandfather Coste carved toys for them.

  There were now very few other inhabitants in the Port Toulouse area and no one close by. When sailing conditions became impossible late in the fall, the two families were truly isolated. Jeanne found her thoughts divided between worry about the dangers posed by the political situation and worry about their chances for survival.

  She had returned her bundle of treasures to the built-in chest where it had been stored before. One long winter evening after the others were asleep, she unpacked the bundle and allowed herself the luxury of letting each item bring her memories of happier times. The blue silk gown and the necklace Joseph had given her, the portrait of her in the gown as the innocent young girl she had once been, the beautiful embroidered shawl she had made at the convent, her books and Martin’s gift of the statuette of Sainte-Anne. She remembered the piece of yellow silk that Pierre had given her, but told herself that it had not been part of her original bundle of treasures anyway and that she had given it away for a good cause.

  She caressed the statuette. The wood felt silky to the touch. And Sainte-Anne’s stance, not defiant, but facing God as an equal, seemed to ask Jeanne to be courageous. As she wanted to be.

  —

  Until now, Jeanne had believed that keeping an eye on those around her, and having her brother Joseph with them would protect her. She realized now that she had been looking at things as if through a fog, certain that those around her could and would cope with whatever misfortune befell them. Even when they had left Port Toulouse the previous spring, she had still thought that life would go back to some form of normalcy for Acadians. She remembered how she had foolishly thought of their departure as another adventure.

  Well, their adventure on Île Saint-Jean and in Remshic had removed the curtain of fog from her eyes and brought home to her the brutal reality of their situation. She knew now, without Joseph having to tell her in so many words, that he expected the French to lose the battle for Louisbourg. There was nothing he or anyone else could do to prevent this, and the only question was how they were to survive and to escape deportation. She remembered her Maman’s fears for Joseph and, over and above all their problems, her heart ached for the destruction of his hopes and dreams.

  Jeanne understood, with great clarity, that it was the isolation from the greater family circle, not knowing where Charles and Abraham and other Dugas and Bois family members were, that truly signalled the end of her former way of life.

  —

  They both knew they
had to leave Port Toulouse in the spring, but Joseph and Le Maigre disagreed on how late they could leave. To Jeanne’s frustration, Pierre was again shut out of the discussions. Joseph had been in search of news as soon as travel along the coast became possible and had spoken with the few Mi’kmaq who were returning to their summer camp by the sea. Most of the Mi’kmaw families had stayed at their winter camps, judging they would be safer if fighting broke out. The general intelligence was that three squadrons of ships and frigates from France had safely arrived at Louisbourg and that as of early June there was still no sign of the arrival of British ships. When Jeanne asked if Joseph had seen Martin, he answered a curt “No.”

  They delayed their departure until mid-June, sailing once again to Remshic, but this year without a shipload of supplies. After what Jeanne considered to be a very silly argument, Joseph brought the cow with him on his ship. The alternative was to slaughter her for the meat, but they had no salt and would have lost most of it. Jeanne breathed a sigh of relief. Little Pierrot liked the cow. He had named her “Moomoo.”

  Joseph and Le Maigre had hoped to find some cabotage activity in Remshic and Tatamagouche, but they were disappointed. Many Acadians had been deported, and no doubt any who remained were in hiding. The village itself was half abandoned.

  They found shelter in two empty houses, but it was more difficult to find food than it had been the previous year. Jeanne was grateful to have the cow and insisted that they use another abandoned house to shelter it.

  “That’s not necessary in the middle of summer, Jeanne!” Joseph was angry, though she suspected his anger was not really aimed at her. Jeanne knew she was being difficult, but Moomoo was part of their family group and Jeanne thought she too should be made as comfortable as possible. It might be folly on her part, but she was determined to protect those still in her life – even Moomoo.

  Pierre came to her rescue. “We’ll find Moomoo a house,” he said, and he did.

  Joseph was clearly disturbed. Aside from the lack of cabotage activities and the danger of capture and deportation, there was also the fear of being attacked at sea by privateers, either French or British. It was difficult to escape them if they came after you, because they were armed and often larger than their prey. Of course, Le Maigre played the “I told you so” game with Joseph.

  “If I had my own schooner,” he kept bragging, “I’m telling you I’d be out there with the best of the privateers.”

  “Just ignore him, Jeanne,” said Joseph.

  They had been in Remshic for about a month when they heard from a Mi’kmaw scout that there were redcoats heading their way looking for any remaining Acadians. Le Maigre questioned this intelligence, but Joseph trusted the Mi’kmaw even if he did not know him personally and insisted that they leave Remshic immediately. They gathered their meagre belongings and were ready to leave when Pierrot cried out, “Moomoo! Moomoo!”

  Joseph stopped in his tracks and looked around in frustration, then marched to the house to fetch the cow. Jeanne, Marie Braud and the others looked at each other ready to burst into laughter but not daring to. As Joseph walked past them leading the cow, he said, “Oh, go ahead, laugh.” Soon they were all laughing, with little Pierrot running behind the cow happily shouting, “Moomoo, Moomoo.”

  —

  They sailed to Île Saint-Jean and found the place where they had built the past summer, but their huts had been torn down. They walked to the Charles Haché farm and found it abandoned. There were no farm animals and no crops had been planted. Joseph decided they should stay there until he could get some information on the situation. “At least Moomoo has a home,” he said with a wry smile. Pierre, with the help of Grandfather Coste, anchored his schooner in a cove nearby where it would not be seen from the sea, while Joseph and Le Maigre went to scout out the area.

  This part of the island was isolated at the best of times, but there now seemed to be a deeper strangeness in its character – an emptiness, as if the land itself were abandoned. They anchored along the coast closer to Port-de-Joye and walked tentatively through the bush. Suddenly, three men stepped out of the brush before them, one of them Charles Haché, whom they greeted like an old friend.

  Charles told them that when news had spread around the island in the spring that Louisbourg might fall again, the settlers expected the worst. Those who had the means to do so had left. The others, like him, had not even planted crops. In any event, most of the settlers had lost their crops for the past two years. There had been almost no help from the French government. The settlers had been given guns and ammunition and told to send their women and children into the woods at any sign of the redcoats approaching. “A few of us men come out to scout certain areas every few days. We are thinking of returning to our houses for the winter months if the war has not been won, but....”

  Joseph quickly assured him that they would have left the area before then. “I would like to be able to give you some good news,” he said, “but I don’t think there is any. We will see you again before we leave, and if there is any urgent news we will get it to you. Be brave, my friend,” Joseph said, and he slipped Charles some coins as he shook hands with him. “Our compliments to Cécile.” Charles nodded his head in agreement.

  Joseph and Le Maigre returned to the Haché farm, Joseph wondering how much to tell Jeanne and Pierre and Grandfather Coste.

  “I have never lied to you, Jeanne,” he said to her, “even if I have sometimes not told you the whole truth.

  “The situation here is not good. We might be in more danger than I expected. Still, we have an advantage over other settlers because we have the schooners and we still have some money.”

  —

  In mid-September, Joseph learned that the British redcoats had indeed made one last sweep of the Tatamagouche and Remshic areas looking for stray Acadians. He also knew it was inevitable that if the colony of Île Royale fell to the British, the Acadians on both Île Royale and Île Saint-Jean would be deported. Would they be safer in Remshic after this latest deportation? Joseph reasoned that the redcoats would not be coming back to the area soon or at least before next spring.

  They had to wait until early October to sail, because in the third week of September they were hit by the most violent storm ever seen in the area. They anchored their two schooners in the most sheltered cove they could find, and barricaded the Haché farmhouse as best they could. But the wind and rain and hail that pounded them for days were truly frightening. As if le bon Dieu has not sent us enough grief, Jeanne thought. The children were afraid and only Pierre could comfort them. At least my husband is a good father and I should be grateful for that, Jeanne told herself. And their schooners were not damaged. What was it Maman had told Jeanne when she was little? Learn to be grateful for the really important things. But Jeanne thought that if she had to listen to Grandfather Coste sing “Sur le pont d’Avignon” and “Le chant de l’alouette” to the children one more time she would scream.

  Joseph tried to find Charles Haché after the storm abated, but could not locate him or any of the other settlers. Had they gone farther into the woods? Were they still alive? There was no way of knowing. And they had to leave soon.

  When they arrived in Remshic they found the small village now completely deserted, except for eight decaying bodies abandoned there. One had been thrown halfway up a tree. The men buried them and Jeanne led the family in a prayer for the repose of their souls.

  —

  They survived the winter there – they did not eat as well as usual, but they ate. Jeanne was not displeased to see Le Maigre lose some weight, and she did not apologize to God for her thoughts. Jeanne and Pierrot, each for different reasons, regretted the fact that Moomoo had been left on Île Saint-Jean. They had all agreed to leave her there for the Haché family should they come back to their farm for the winter.

  —

  Louisbourg had survived another year, due t
o the late arrival of the British ships to the waters off Île Royale, the strength of the three French squadrons that protected the fortress and the violent storm that hit in September causing damage to both French and British warships. The British had been prevented from fulfilling their plan to capture the fortress and then attack Québec. They retreated, but there were rumours that eight of their warships remained anchored at Halifax for the winter.

  Chapter 22

  During the winter of 1758 they tried to keep up a sense of normalcy for the sake of the children, but it was difficult. Joseph’s older children wanted to know why their lives had changed. Marguerite was sixteen, Anne thirteen, the twins Ti-Jos (Joseph) and Mimi (Marie) were ten and baby Françoise was eight. Marguerite was a bit like her Aunt Jeanne, her father said to her one day, because she wanted to know everything. “The two of you will drive me out of my mind,” he told them jokingly.

  Jeanne’s children were too young yet to understand. But Marie, the oldest, seemed to sense the tension and worry of the grown-ups. She became quiet and withdrawn and stayed at her mother’s side. It made Jeanne’s heart ache to see her that way. Marie Braud never complained, but she seemed to become paler and more wraith-like each day.

  Le Maigre looked worried, and was unusually quiet, which made him less of a thorn in Jeanne’s side. Grandfather Coste spent hours telling stories to the children about the wonderful Acadia he had known and of his early life there in better times. In the evenings, even if their hearts were heavy, they sang the old songs to the children to put them to sleep.

  Pierre searched the deserted village and surrounding area for anything they could use or eat, such as dry wood for fire or vegetables left behind in abandoned kitchen gardens, and he had fished and hunted with the others. Jeanne knew that her husband was there for all of them like a solid and loyal bulwark. But it was on Joseph’s shoulders that their safety and survival depended and Jeanne knew this weighed heavily on her brother.