Jeanne Dugas of Acadia

by Cassie Deveaux Cohoon

  It was getting dark when they made land, they knew not where. Hungry, tired and apprehensive, they were grateful to at least be out of the hold of the ship and able to breathe clean air again. Some of the children had slept, but now they were fussing and upset.

  Men were waiting for them with torches to light their way. René Gaudet asked one of them where they were.

  “Fort Cumberland,” was the curt answer.

  “Have any other prisoners been taken here from the Baie des Chaleurs?”

  “Some. Come on now, move!”

  René Gaudet walked beside Jeanne. “This is Beauséjour,” he said. Seeing Jeanne’s pale, stricken face, he added, “I’m sure they must have brought the others here.”

  They were quickly shuffled into casements and underground storage rooms with dirt floors. Clearly, these buildings were not meant to be used as a prison. As they entered they were handed a piece of black bread for each family member and one jug of water for the family group. There was no way to tell if any other families or husbands had arrived before them.

  Early the following morning they were taken outside into an open area to join the other refugees taken prisoner at the Baie des Chaleurs and the Miramichi. Captain MacKenzie was there and the group was under heavy guard. There were tears of joy and relief when families were reunited.

  Pierre had all four children clinging to him, and Nono tried to give him the bit of bread he had left. “No, Nono, you have to eat it, so you can grow up to be big and strong and help Papa,” Pierre told him. The boy needed no further prompting and ate it hungrily.

  An aide of Captain MacKenzie’s announced that they were to be taken to Halifax to await deportation. They would sail there in British ships in several stages. Their own ships were confiscated. They would be permitted to leave in family groups. He proceeded to read a list of names of men who would be the first to go, including Joseph Dugas, Abraham Dugas, Joseph Leblanc dit Le Maigre and others. “You will leave today.”

  These men were all well-known resistance leaders and privateers. Pierre Bois’s name was not on the list. Jeanne didn’t know if this was a good or a bad thing, but it meant that Marguerite, her children and Joseph’s children would go with Abraham.

  Joseph started to approach Jeanne, but a guard stopped him. “I just want a word with my sister,” Joseph said, and at a nod from Captain MacKenzie, he was allowed to go to her.

  Joseph’s face looked thunderous. He took her arm and drew her a bit away from the others. The children stayed with Pierre.

  “What’s happening, Joseph?”

  “What’s happening? We were betrayed again, Jeanne. And again by Pierre du Calvet, a man who was supposed to be on our side.” He shuddered with suppressed anger.

  “Jeanne, there is not much time and there is something I must tell you.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s about Martin. Your friend Martin.” He hesitated.

  “You’ve seen him?” She was trying to think why Joseph found it difficult to give her news of Martin. “Has his group signed a peace treaty with the British?” she asked.

  “No. He was still fighting the British.” Joseph paused.

  “Jeanne,” he said slowly, “Martin was killed in a skirmish with them. I’m very sorry to have to tell you about this.” He reached into his coat and brought out a slim pouch made of woven grass. “Martin had this on him. I thought you would like to have it back.”

  Ah, mon Dieu! She stood in front of Joseph, the colour draining from her face. Martin, dead? Her lips trembled but she could not let herself cry.

  Joseph pushed the keepsake toward her. “Take this, Jeanne. It’s the portrait of you in your blue silk gown.” She swayed. He grabbed her arms to steady her.

  “Jeanne, Martin was a wonderful man. I loved him like a brother. But now we have to go on without him. Jeanne! Are you listening to me?” He paused. “He had a wife and children. Did you know that?”

  She closed her eyes so that Joseph could not see into her soul. In truth, she had not known, but it would not have changed how she felt about Martin. She opened her eyes and looked at Joseph. “I have a family too,” she said softly.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Joseph wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Jeanne. We’ll see you at Halifax. I don’t see how we can be deported before the spring. Take care of Pierre. He’s a good man too.”

  She could only nod in reply.

  Jeanne, Pierre and their children were in the last group and sailed two days later. They arrived at the prison on Georges Island in Halifax Harbour on a cold and wet fall day to find the prison sheds allocated to the Acadians already filled to overflowing. They spent their first few nights there sleeping in the rough on wet, muddy, cold ground. They were given rations too meagre to satisfy hunger and filthy blankets too threadbare to provide warmth.

  Chapter 38

  At the time of the first deportations in 1755, the British had set up prison camps across Nova Scotia. The most important were Fort Cumberland, Fort Anne in Annapolis, Fort Edward in Pisiquit, and Georges Island in Halifax Harbour. During and following the deportations many hundreds of Acadian prisoners were held at Georges Island before their eventual deportation.

  But Georges Island was not just a military prison. Ordinary criminals were also confined there and these prisoners were frequently housed in the same sheds as the Acadians. It was not unusual for the Acadians to see men flogged with cat-o’-nine-tails and to witness hangings from the yardarm of a British ship. The sheds were crowded, overrun with vermin and diseases spread quickly. The rooms were dark, water dripped down the walls, and the earth floors were cold and damp. The only piece of furniture in each was a wooden bench. When the sheds were overcrowded, some of the Acadian prisoners were forced to live in the open, exposed to the elements and half-starved. Many of the elderly and the young died there under the stars.

  Among the prisoners taken to Georges Island in 1760 and 1761 were several hundred Acadian resisters and privateers. Some of them had been captured by British forces, others had been forced to surrender to avoid starvation. As a result the security measures at Georges Island had been increased and the Acadian resistance leaders and their families were kept in a separate area.

  Chapter 39

  The prison cell Jeanne and Pierre and their children were pushed into inside the sheds was barely more comfortable than being in the open, but at least there was a roof over their heads. It was shelter.

  Jeanne was in a state of shock and trying not to let it show. Pierre’s face was grey with worry and fatigue. The children were bewildered and afraid, unused to the rough manners of their keepers. They were alarmed when they heard that Joseph and Abraham and their families were being held under tight security in another part of the prison because of their partisan activities. Above all Jeanne felt abandoned, and even more so now, with the news of Martin’s death.

  She asked herself what Charles’s wife would do. She thought she was beginning to understand Anne’s refusal to be emotional. Just keep putting one foot ahead of the other.

  They quickly learned the routine of the sheds. They shared their plight with the other captives, some of whom they knew from the Baie des Chaleurs. But they all seemed to be afflicted with a strange silence. Although willing to give any assistance they could to fellow sufferers, it was as if no one knew what to say, as if no one remembered any words of comfort or hope.

  When Jeanne heard that a young mother was expecting to give birth soon, she passed the word along that she was a midwife. Perhaps she would be allowed to help her. When the time came, a guard appeared late in the night to take her to attend the birth. She brought Sainte-Anne with her and let the young woman clutch the statuette during her ordeal. Prisoners nearby had already complained about the young mother’s screams and she was bravely trying to be silent in spite of her pain. Jeanne thought her own heart would b
reak. The young mother was emaciated and her baby pitifully tiny. She heard a few days later that the baby had died.

  —

  That first winter on Georges Island was agonizing. The cold and dampness took its toll on all of them. Jeanne and Pierre ate as little as possible in order to give most of the rations to the children. Jeanne worried about Angélique, the frailest of her children, but she survived the winter. They had no contact with Joseph or Abraham or their families. For Jeanne, there was a feeling of helplessness and despair such as she had never known. Here there were no comforters, only sufferers. Her biggest fear was that she and Pierre and their children would be deported without knowing what would happen to her brothers and their families.

  In the spring, some of the less dangerous Acadian men held in the sheds were allowed to do menial work on the prison island, for which they were paid with increased rations or small sums of money. Eventually, some were allowed to work off the island – ironically on farms that had been taken from Acadians and which their new owners were now having trouble maintaining. Some worked in the town of Halifax. Wages were paid and mostly used to buy extra food.

  Pierre was allowed to work on a farm, where he earned a small wage, and he would bring back the food he was given for his meal. When the farmer realized what he was doing, he gave him extra food to take to his family. “You see, Jeanne,” Pierre said, “there are good people in the world.”

  Another blessing from Pierre’s work was that he was able to get news of the Dugas brothers. One of the other prisoner-workers had contact with the partisans. They were well; the families had survived the winter. Pierre sent a message back to them.

  It was difficult, but life continued in the prison sheds. Jeanne assisted at almost a dozen births during her stay there – and many more deaths. The family of Joseph Broussard dit Beausoleil, perhaps the best known and most feared Acadian resistance fighter, was being held with the ordinary prisoners. Broussard’s granddaughter Elizabeth Isabelle was born in the camp and his nephew Joseph Grigoire died there, leaving behind a widow and three small children.

  There were marriages too. Because there were no Catholic priests available, Protestant clergymen came to the island prison to perform marriages and baptisms. The Acadians considered them “white” rites that they would have “rehabilitated” by a Catholic priest at the first opportunity. Some of these rehabilitations would eventually be carried out in such far away places as Saint-Malo and Louisiana.

  —

  The Lieutenant-Governor of Nova Scotia, Jonathan Belcher, was determined to deport the remaining Acadians, even if his commander-in-chief General Amherst and the Lords of Trade in London strongly advised him to allow them to stay in the province. In the summer of 1762, Belcher used several minor incidents of rebellion to justify his plan to rid himself of the “Acadian problem” once and for all.

  In mid-August, more than twelve hundred Acadian prisoners were placed on five transport ships that set sail for Boston. Jeanne and Pierre and their children were on one of these ships, but more dangerous resistance fighters such as the Dugas brothers were left behind on Georges Island.

  It was Jeanne’s worst nightmare come true. Deportation! That which they had tried so long to avoid. Where were they going? They had not been told. How would they survive?

  She had worried needlessly. The Massachusetts Council absolutely refused to accept any more Acadians, and after spending almost three weeks in Boston harbour, the ships had no alternative but to return to Halifax and Georges Island.

  It was a devastating experience for Jeanne, although their rations on ship were better than in prison and they had the benefit of clean fresh air – once out of sight of land, they were permitted on deck for a few hours each day. But to go through the worry and stress of being torn from their land and then to be returned to prison was a crushing blow.

  For a brief moment when they stepped back into their cell, Jeanne thought she just could not go on any longer. Then she turned again for comfort to the attitude of her sister-in-law Anne and of Sainte-Anne. No emotion. Strength. Go on.

  —

  When Pierre returned from working on the farm one October day, he brought back the news that Joseph and Abraham and their families, together with several other partisans, had escaped from Georges Island. His informant said that he didn’t know how they had managed it. They must have had outside help.

  Jeanne wept softly. She was not surprised that Joseph had managed to escape. But how could he have left her behind? She knew she was being unreasonable, but in her heart she felt betrayed. Even though she could not expect him to keep the promise he had made to her when she was ten years old – that they would always remain together as a family – she was hurt. Still, she did sincerely hope that he would not be caught and brought back to Georges Island. She knew that other escapees had been unmercifully whipped and sometimes hanged.

  —

  The winter of 1763 was another heartbreaking period for the Acadian prisoners. The guards at the sheds seemed less and less interested in their care, and there were more incidents of prisoners taking advantage of their fellow captives. Jeanne was appalled at how uncaring some of her fellow Acadian prisoners were, but then weren’t they all just trying to survive?

  She knew there was theft and prostitution, too. One young widowed mother who thought Jeanne was criticizing her turned on her one day and said, “Jeanne, I’m trying to keep my small ones alive. I do it for extra food. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes. I do understand,” Jeanne replied. “I’m not judging you. I only wish I could help you instead.” Jeanne started to give her bits of food when she could, but she knew it was not nearly enough.

  Chapter 40

  After seven long years, the war between Britain and France ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1763, but when the news arrived in Nova Scotia with the first ships in the spring, it did not mean immediate change for the remaining Acadian prisoners on Georges Island.

  —

  Along with the news of the end of the war, spring brought unusually cold and wet weather and a bad fever that swept through the sheds. Jeanne tried to minister to the sick, but she had no access to herbs or plants or healthy food. When she pleaded with the guards, their superior came to talk to her. He came into the sheds holding a handkerchief over his nose.

  “Monsieur,” she said, “many of the prisoners have the fever. I can help them if I can get some herbs and plants, and perhaps some fresh food? I’m afraid that without remedies many of the children will die.”

  “I’m sorry, Madame,” was the brusque reply, “but they won’t be missed. It will mean fewer Acadians for us to deal with, won’t it?” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Pierre, who was standing near Jeanne, shouted, “Monsieur!”

  The man did not even turn to look at him.

  “Jeanne....” Pierre took in the stricken look on her face. “There is nothing you can do. Come.” He put his arm around her to lead her back to their cell.

  “Please stay in our cell,” he said, “or you too will catch the fever. And give it to the children.”

  “I think I already have it.” She put his hand to her hot, feverish forehead.

  Pierre took over. He made her stay in their cell and rest and he kept the children away from her as much as he could. He gave her his rations to eat and as much as he dared to take away from the children.

  Jeanne was terrified at what was happening but too weak to do anything about it. She did not even have the strength to pray. “What difference would it make?” she asked Pierre.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “but I’m praying as hard as I can. Jeanne, you can’t leave us. Fight! You would fight for me and our children. Fight for yourself.”

  Le bon Dieu works in strange ways she thought later. She recovered but, inevitably, the children caught the fever. Pierrot, Angélique and No
no all died. Marie caught it too but, being older and stronger, she recovered.

  The fever was just leaving Jeanne when her children died, and she was still very weak. Pierrot and Nono slipped away on the same day, best friends to the end. Angélique followed them the next day.

  Pierre saw Jeanne try to stand up. “No. No, Jeanne, you’re not strong enough.” He wrapped the three bodies in an old blanket and some cloths, and brought the bundles to Jeanne so she could touch them one last time.

  “I’m taking them to see if someone will help me bury them,” he said. “Marie, stay with Maman and make sure she doesn’t try to move.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Marie sat on the ground beside her distraught mother. “Maman,” she said, “I’m so sorry. Would it have been better if I had died? Instead of Angélique or Pierrot or Nono?”

  Ah, mon Dieu, Jeanne whispered to herself. She pulled Marie into her arms and the tears came.

  —

  The fate of the remaining Acadian prisoners at Georges Island went unresolved for more long months. Montague Wilmot replaced Jonathan Belcher as Lieutenant-Governor, but in spite of official instructions that he was to use all lawful means to persuade the Acadians to remain in Nova Scotia, he had no intention of releasing the prisoners.

  When Wilmot was unable to persuade the Lords of Trade to agree to deport the Acadians, he presented the prisoners with a plan that would discourage them from wanting to stay in Nova Scotia. He led them to believe that the only way for them to obtain their freedom would be to accept deportation. In the fall of 1763, more than six hundred Acadians, led by Joseph Broussard dit Beausoleil, left Halifax in two groups headed for the West Indies.

  Others, such as resistance leader Pierre II Surette, refused to leave the land of their ancestors. His family and other followers simply stayed on Georges Island until at last Wilmot was forced to release them. Jeanne, Pierre and Marie were among these last prisoners to be freed in the spring of 1764 – after three long, cold, hungry, tragic years.