Jeanne Dugas of Acadia

by Cassie Deveaux Cohoon

  —

  The problem in the spring, as always, was the need for news. In the spring of 1758 the need was urgent and the means to obtain it difficult. But although they were isolated for their own protection, they needed some contact in order to know what was happening. A few stray Acadian men had gone through the Remshic area early in the spring, but they had no news to share with them. Joseph had told several men that if they should come across some Mi’kmaq, and especially a scout named Jean Sauvage, to please tell him that Joseph Dugas and his family were in the Remshic area. They promised, but weeks went by with no response.

  Joseph made a few careful excursions on his schooner, but did not dare go very far in case he might be seen by enemy ships or privateers.

  Jeanne understood their options very well. Stay in Remshic and eventually be killed or deported by the redcoats? Leave and be captured at sea? If they did sail from Remshic, where would they go? Surely to try to escape to the Miramichi at this point in time would be folly? She had visions of their small schooners surrounded by huge British warships. These days she was praying as much to her Maman as to le bon Dieu, feeling that perhaps Maman would understand her concern for her family better than He.

  Joseph kept an eye on the sea. In mid-May he spied a Mi’kmaw canoe approaching shore. He ran out to show himself and greet them. To his relief and joy he recognized his old friend Jean Sauvage. His nephew Martin was with him.

  “I am happy to see you are still here,” said Jean. “I heard about you and your family only a few days ago.”

  Joseph brought the men to his house, where everyone gathered. After everyone had greeted each other, Joseph looked around helplessly at Marie Braud and Jeanne. They should be offering their friends refreshments but they had so little to give. Martin noticed this, and said, “No. We will bring you some food and supplies soon. You have done well to survive here.” Jeanne tried not to look hungrily at Martin and she imagined that he was doing the same.

  Jean Sauvage reported to Joseph that five French ships, plus a squadron of five war vessels, had arrived safely at Louis-bourg in the month of April, carrying supplies. Jean guessed they had been able to stock enough food and militia matériel to last for a long siege. It was believed that other ships had been captured or lost at sea, and Governor Drucour did not know if he could expect more ships.

  Attempts had been made to repair the fortifications of Louisbourg, and the French had built a line of coastal field posts at the Baie de Gabarus to the south, as well as at the rivière Miré to the north. They hoped to prevent the British from landing along the coast near the Miré to attack the fortress from the rear as they had done in 1745. And of course the French had their warships safely in Louisbourg Harbour.

  But since the beginning of May, the eight British warships that had spent the winter at Halifax had been sailing back and forth across the entrance to Louisbourg Harbour. There was no way of knowing when the full force of British warships would arrive.

  Governor Drucour had sent an appeal to Charles Deschamps de Boishébert, who was in Québec, and he expected Boishébert to arrive at Louisbourg with a force of perhaps as many as eight hundred to twelve hundred irregulars – fishermen and settlers who were part-time soldiers – native warriors and Acadian volunteers. Jean Sauvage did not expect such a large number. He knew there would be fewer Mi’kmaw warriors because they had not been impressed with the war effort the previous summer.

  “Jean, what should we do?” Joseph asked his friend.

  “I believe you should return to Port Toulouse while you wait for developments,” Jean replied. “Boishébert is expected to stop there when he arrives and perhaps he will have news for you.”

  Le Maigre came suddenly to life. “Joseph,” he said, “we could join Boishébert’s militia.”

  Jeanne and Marie Braud looked at each other with the same thought – Ah, non.

  “Jeanne. Marie,” Joseph appealed to them. “Don’t start worrying. We don’t know what’s going to happen. I think Jean’s advice is good.”

  “Yes,” said Jean. “There are other Acadians and Mi’kmaq at Port Toulouse waiting out the events and you will be as safe there as anywhere else.”

  “And Jeanne,” argued Pierre, “Boishébert may be able to help us reach the Miramichi.”

  Jean Sauvage and Martin returned a few days later with food supplies, and escorted the Dugas and Bois families and their two schooners safely to Port Toulouse, sailing along the north shore of Nova Scotia, keeping close to the coastline.

  Their habitations were still standing and empty, but Joseph warned that they should live there as they had in Remshic, ready to leave at any time. A few days after their arrival, they heard that two caboteurs and their schooners, as well as two merchant ships, had been captured by British ships not far off the coast. And there were many rumours about the activities of the privateers. This had a sobering effect on Joseph and Le Maigre.

  There were some twenty or so Acadian volunteers waiting for Boishébert at Port Toulouse, most of them men who had fled from Île Saint-Jean, as well as a dozen Mi’kmaw warriors. This ragtag group of Acadians and Mi’kmaq, like the Dugas and Bois families, were pinning their hopes on the arrival of Boishébert. Jeanne sensed they were rather uneasy at having two families with children among them.

  Jean Sauvage and Martin, with three or four other warriors, went to and from Port Toulouse on scouting expeditions. Whenever they returned, Martin always came to their habitation to make sure they were safe, usually bringing food with him. Jeanne was reminded of the berries he had brought her in the past. Was it only six years ago? It seemed like a lifetime.

  Chapter 23

  Charles Deschamps de Boishébert arrived at Port Toulouse at the end of June, weary and short of provisions and men. He had left Québec with three vessels on May 8, bringing a few compagnies franches officers and cadets, and seventy volunteers. Due to bad weather it had taken him a month to reach the Miramichi, where he added seventy Acadian militia and sixty Mi’kmaw warriors to his forces. He now had a total force of fewer than three hundred men, nowhere near the twelve hundred Governor Drucour expected.

  All the men awaiting Boishébert came to greet him. When Joseph introduced himself, Boishébert said, “Ah, Joseph Dugas. I have a letter for you or your sister Jeanne Bois from your brother Charles.”

  “Ahh—” Jeanne cried out and clutched a hand to her heart.

  Joseph handed the letter to his sister. “Here,” he said softly. “You read it.”

  She felt tears coming, but did not want to cry until she knew what news the letter held. Good or bad? She unsealed it very carefully with trembling hands, and read it silently.

  My dear brother and sister,

  I hope with all my heart that this letter will reach at least one of you and find you in good health. We want you to know that we, Charles and Abraham and our wives and children are all living, thank the good Lord. And also our stepsisters and the twins. We are worried about Jeanne and Pierre and your children, and Joseph, your children and Marie Braud. It would ease our hearts to know that you are alive and well. And it would bring us great joy if you could join us. We pray for you and ask the good Lord to keep you. We all send you our love.

  Your brother Charles Dugas

  She held the letter against her heart. Then she broke down in loud sobs of relief.

  “Jeanne! What is it?” Joseph put his arm around her and pleaded with her to tell him. Finally, her sobs eased. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help it. They are fine.” She read them the letter out loud.

  “Ah, Dieu merci!” exclaimed Joseph for all of them.

  “He mentioned me, too,” Marie Braud whispered with a smile.

  —

  Boishébert cast a look at the Acadian volunteers and the dozen Mi’kmaq waiting for him at Port Toulouse. It was obvious he was not impressed. Le Maigre
spoke up. “Sir, you have three more volunteers. Myself, Joseph Dugas and Pierre Bois, Jeanne’s husband.”

  Boishébert gave a half-smile. “You have ships?”

  “We have two schooners, Joseph’s Marie-Josèphe, 32 tons, and Pierre’s Angélique, 24 tons. They’ve been used for cabotage only. We have no arms.”

  “I can take you on my ships,” Boishébert said.

  The wave of joy that Charles’s letter had brought to Jeanne now vanished. Her stomach muscles tensed at the thought of Joseph and Pierre joining the militia.

  Boishébert was silent for some minutes. He seemed worried and distracted.

  “Well,” he said finally, “we face a difficult situation. There was a letter waiting here for me from Governor Drucour. The Governor expects me to make my way to Louisbourg. But considering the most recent intelligence, this seems to me to be impossible. Drucour’s letter also tells me that the cache of ammunition and food that was hidden near the rivière Miré has been broken into by some Mi’kmaq.” Boishébert was tired from his seven-week trip from Québec, worried about his lack of men and already short of provisions.

  “The British, I understand, have landed at the Baie de Gabarus,” he continued. “So I am heading for the Miré where there should be some supplies remaining. By the way,” he gave a wry smile. “Drucour’s letter also included the Order of Saint-Louis, which the king has awarded me. A high honour indeed. Perhaps the king and Drucour believe it will enable me to do miracles.”

  A number of the men started to congratulate him, but Boishébert calmed them down. “There’s no time for that now.”

  Boishébert looked around at the men. “I’ll take all of you who wish to join me to the Miré. Dugas, if you want to follow with your two schooners, I’ll take you three men on my ships as part of my irregular force when we arrive there. I’m sure you understand that I cannot guarantee the safety of your families, although I’ll do as much as I can to protect them.”

  “Agreed.” Joseph gave his hand to Boishébert, followed by Le Maigre and Pierre.

  Jeanne was torn. She had heard of Boishébert’s exploits and especially of his sheltering Acadians in the Miramichi. She believed him to be a honourable man, but his objective was to fight a war. She knew very well that the Dugas and Bois families were only very small bits of flotsam caught in the wake of his much larger ships.

  Jeanne asked her brother if Jean Sauvage and Martin would be with the other Mi’kmaw warriors on Boishébert’s ships. He told her no, that they were more valuable to the war effort as scouts.

  “Is that very dangerous for them?”

  “Yes, Jeanne, it is very dangerous, but they are very skilled at what they do. I expect we will see them at the Miré.”

  —

  Boishébert arrived at the rivière Miré on July l, followed by Joseph’s and Pierre’s schooners. Boishébert anchored his ships off the Miré beach. Guided by Grandfather Coste, who knew the area well, Joseph and Pierre found a small cove a bit farther inland in which to anchor their boats.

  Jeanne knew that the area had farmland and that a few Frenchmen and Acadians had settled there to plant grains and vegetables and raise cattle. But even though grains, except for wheat, grew well in the area, they had not managed to create any substantial farms. The cattle-raising business had been more successful, but it had never been able to supply all the needs of Louisbourg. If Jeanne expected the kind of bucolic farmland she had seen in Grand-Pré, she was sadly disappointed.

  The first thing she noticed was the field posts along the shore, manned by the French militia. The Miré area was a battlefield shared with civilians. The farmers had tried to isolate themselves, hoping to stay out of the battle. There were poor French and Acadian civilians who had fled the fortress hoping to find a safe refuge, and others who had come from Port Toulouse. There were also a number of Mi’kmaw warriors and their families. All these people were scattered over a fairly large area, but of course there was not enough shelter for everyone. It seemed to Jeanne that there were a great many women wandering around who seemed to be alone.

  “Don’t go near them, Jeanne,” Joseph cautioned. “They are camp followers, both English and French. Some are fairly decent women, others would cut your throat for a loaf of bread. Don’t try to befriend them, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Joseph.” But, mon Dieu, she thought, they are human beings.

  “We’ll be able to get food here,” Joseph continued, “but we are going to live on the schooners. Even if we could find shelters, we are safer aboard the ships.”

  Grandfather Coste, who had made a removable mast for Pierre’s ship, suggested that they pull the Angélique ashore, remove the mast, and turn the boat over. They could sleep under it and have some shelter.

  Joseph shook his head. “No. If we are attacked, either by the enemy or a thief, it will take us too long to try to get away.” Pierre nodded his agreement.

  Joseph turned to Jeanne. He held her arm and looked into her eyes. He wanted her full attention. “My sister,” he said seriously, “if something should happen to us when we are with Boishébert, Grandfather Coste is to take all of you in my ship and sail for the Miramichi.”

  “Yes, Joseph, I understand.” Jeanne tried to look brave, even as she felt an icy grip on her heart. Marie Braud looked even paler than usual and her lips trembled. But she said nothing.

  Chapter 24

  To his dismay, Boishébert found that there was very little left of the caches of food and munitions meant for the French troops. He lost no time in setting up raids against the British lines, but with little success. Joseph, Le Maigre and Pierre joined the irregulars. Pierre was proud of his role as a cannoneer on one of the ships. They made a few unsuccessful raids by sea, and then Boishébert set up harassing raids on land. But although they wounded a few men and captured one or two prisoners, their raids were little more than a nuisance to the enemy.

  Left on their own with Grandfather Coste and the children, Jeanne and Marie Braud were like lost sheep in a place they did not understand. It seemed that everyone around them was to be treated as suspect. They slept on the schooners and if the three men were away the two women and Grandfather Coste took turns staying awake and keeping watch during the night. Jeanne and Grandfather Coste went out each day in the field in search of supplies and food. They brought Marguerite with them one time, and that was a mistake. Young and pretty, Marguerite was met with ribald remarks from men and women alike. She was terrified. At night they would often hear the noise of drunken merrymaking from members of the militia and the camp followers.

  Grandfather Coste suggested that they not worry their three men with these reports and Jeanne agreed. But she was worried about Grandfather Coste. She had been aware for some time now that he was short of breath when he walked for any distance and was not his usual self.

  —

  At dusk on still another evening when the men were away, Jeanne heard a slight noise coming from the side of the schooner. She shushed the children and went to check. It was Martin Sauvage, in a small canoe.

  “Jeanne, don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “I want to talk to you. Can you come with me for a little while?”

  She did not hesitate. “Yes, I’ll just tell Grandfather.”

  She came back, put the rope ladder over the side of the schooner, and with Martin’s help climbed down to his canoe. He put a finger to his lips, settled her in the canoe facing him, and slowly and silently paddled a short distance along the shore and stopped when the canoe nudged against a fallen tree. She broke the silence.

  “Martin, the men are with Boishébert,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I know,” he said.

  “Ah, mon Dieu, are you here to give me some bad news?”

  “No, no, Jeanne. I wanted to see for myself that you are safe. This is a bad place to be.”

  “Yes, but we don’t have any choic
e. Do you know what is happening? Please tell me, Martin.” She extended a hand to touch him, then drew it back. He took her hand and held it in both of his. His hands were strong and calloused yet held hers very gently.

  “Jeanne, do you truly understand what is happening? The battle for Louisbourg is almost over and the British are winning. Then they will capture Québec. You will be deported or you will be a fugitive in your own land. I do not know what will happen to my people. We have nowhere to go, so we will remain, but I don’t know how will we survive. I think many of us will die. We won’t be able to share this land with the British the way we have with the Acadians and the French. Does Joseph have a plan for you?”

  “Yes, we hope to go to the Miramichi with Boishébert,” said Jeanne. “Charles and Abraham are there. We had a letter from them.”

  “I know. And Boishébert is a good man, but he won’t be able to protect the Acadians in the Miramichi for much longer. The British have already destroyed Acadian settlements on the Baie Française and along the rivière Saint-Jean. Now they are attacking settlements in the Chipoudi and the Petitcodiac and the Memramcook areas. If they continue they will surely reach the Miramichi and eventually destroy all your areas of refuge. There will be nothing left for you but to accept deportation.”

  “But we don’t want to go, Martin. This is our home.”

  “I know,” he said with a small smile. “You Acadians are almost as attached to this land as we are. And you have only been here a very short time compared to us.”

  Jeanne could not help but think back to when she was a child and thought she understood so much. Now the world she knew seemed to be turned upside down. It was all changed, and it was her enemy. She hesitated before speaking. She could not put her thoughts into words, but sensed he would understand.