Band of Acadians (5 page)

“As Mr. Broussard said, it was my pleasure, Nola. My leg's getting better now. This splint's helping a lot.”

Jocelyne hurried over to Nola and gestured that she should join her at a spot behind some firewood where Hector couldn't see them. Once behind this cover, Jocelyne whispered, “Nola, I thought you were my friend. Why did you kiss Hector like that?” “What do you mean?”

“I hope you're not trying to make Hector sweet on you.”

“I was just saying thank you, Jocelyne. You can do the same thing if you want.”

“I will not! You're causing trouble when you kiss him. I sincerely hope you won't do that ever again.”

Nola was surprised at her friend's fury. She didn't know what to say, so she turned away and started cleaning up the remains of the celebratory meal.

Adele, one of the more gregarious girls, approached Nola. “I'm no longer happy being on a girl-only raft. It's true some of the boys are rude and rough — that's why we moved three days ago — but those boys are also fun and I want to go back. Being shy is boring.”

“There certainly isn't much privacy on these rafts,” Nola said. “But there's nothing to stop you from going. There's no need to be shy. Just ask one of the boys in a shallop to row you over.”

“Good. Then that's what I'll do.” She giggled. “I think I know how to teach the rougher boys some manners.”

Nola smiled and continued working.

A little later Hector asked Grandpa the distance to the Strait of Canso.

“It's about a hundred and fifty miles from Tatamagouche to St. Peter's,” Grandpa said. “At St. Peter's there's a haul-over road for boats to get into the Bras d'Ors.”

“Why would we want to go to the Bras d'Ors? Isn't the shorter way to Louisbourg to follow the coast?”

“Yes, but it can get very rough out in the open ocean, especially as winter approaches. Our rafts would never hold together if we got caught in an ocean storm. The Bras d'Ors is still salt water, and though it's a longer route, it's a lot safer.”

“That makes sense. To reach St. Peter's will take us about seven days. I don't want to risk going ashore again, but we might have to if we run short of firewood or drinking water. I'll tell everyone to keep a tight rein on their use of our supplies.”

Jocelyne ambled over to Grandpa and asked him how she should take care of the beehives.

“The bees will go into hibernation when you cover up the hive,” he told her. “They'll survive to the spring as long as they're protected from freezing. When the outside air temperature decreases, the bees cling tightly together in clusters on the combs so the larger clusters have a better chance for survival than the smaller ones.

Honeybees can't survive a hard frost, so we have to help them keep warm by covering the hive with moss or some other insulation.”

“Thanks, Grandpa. I'll do that.”

Frank was standing nearby and had overheard their conversation. “That reminds me of the problems taking care of another little creature important to humans — silkworms. I've heard there are quite a few silk cultivators in France who lost their little creatures to cold temperatures. The silkworm is as tiny as a bee, but when thousands are feeding, the grinding noise of their jaws is so loud it sounds like heavy rain striking leaves during a thunderstorm. I found it amazing that such a little creature could make such a big noise.”

Paying no attention to his comments about silkworms, Nola asked Frank, “Are you recovered enough from your adventure to give us another writing lesson?”

“Sure.” Then he looked at some of the other girls. “Everyone interested in writing lessons go get your writing barks and charcoal pencils.” Ten minutes later he started the lesson. He reviewed the alphabet and had his students spell out a few everyday words. After an hour of that, he introduced numbers and even had a few of the faster learners do simple arithmetic.

When the students had all worked hard for three hours, shouts from the lead shallop were heard and they took a break to see what the commotion was about. Remy and Joseph had surprised a basking seal and were busily spearing it with their bayonet-tipped poles. The animal soon succumbed to their vigorous thrusts, and the carcass was hauled aboard the nearest raft. The ensuing butchering was gory, upsetting even the stoutest hearts, but the result would produce much-needed sealskin and blubber. Even without being tanned and still greasy, the sealskin could be put to use as waterproof blankets and the blubber as heating oil. Few were interested in eating the gamy meat, so it was thrown into the water, which proved to be a huge mistake.

A migrating walrus, apparently very hungry, approached the raft to feed on the huge gobs of seal meat. Not considering the consequences of enraging such a powerful beast, Joseph speared it. The wounded giant bellowed with rage and charged the raft, its massive tusks snapping at the logs and brutally throwing three boys high into the air. Flailing in the water, these three struggled desperately and barely managed to get back onboard.

As he pulled up Joseph, Hector said, “Spearing that beast was a foolish thing to do.”

“I … I never thought it would attack us. I … I'm glad no one was hurt.”

“And I'm glad it's gone,” Grandpa added. “Walruses usually eat things like octopus and shellfish. It must have been all the seal blood and gore that attracted it.”

The excitement of the seal hunt and rescue from the angry walrus boosted most of the crew's morale, but not Adele's. She came over to Nola with a new complaint. Like others in the dike-digger group at Grand Pré, she hadn't had the opportunity to bring personal care items such as hairbrushes. The supply girls, however, were able to take whatever they needed. Adele missed her hairbrush, particularly now that she was on a mixed-gender raft. “It's not fair that the supply girls are better groomed than we are,” she told Nola.

Nola called over Delphine, one of the supply girls. “Would you help Adele and I make some soap, Delphine? With the seal blubber and wood ash, we can make lye soap.”

“Sure. That sounds like fun.”

In less than two hours they produced their first batch. That done, Nola said, “Let's test it on your hairbrush, Delphine. I think it'll do a good job of cleaning the brush.”

After they washed the brush, Delphine said, “It's certainly cleaner.”

Nola smiled. “Good. Would you lend your brush to Adele if she agrees to wash it after she uses it?”

“I guess I could do that.”

“Now, girls, I have another suggestion. You know how Grandpa complains about his sore teeth? Well, if you use a toothpick after every meal, discreetly, of course, and then swish out your mouth with this lye soap, you'll not only have fresher mouths but you'll have healthier teeth. It won't taste good, but you can chew some spruce gum to get rid of the bad taste. How would you like that?”

Adele grimaced. “The soap bit sounds nasty, but I'll try it.”

Delphine also agreed. Shortly afterward, Nola was delighted to see the two girls go hand in hand to the raft shelter, presumably, she thought, to try out their new hygiene routine.

Seven days after leaving Tatamagouche, the flotilla entered Canso Strait. “It looks like another southeaster is coming in,” Hector said. “If we can reach St. Peter's by tomorrow, that would be good. We don't want to get caught in the strait when the storm hits. An ocean storm can be brutal.”

The next morning, as the big storm approached, they sailed into the safety of St. Peter's Bay. They had to row the last dozen yards, though, before were able to step ashore.

“Whew!” Jocelyne said. “The firm ground certainly feels wonderful after so many days of bouncing up and down in rough water.”

Exploring their landing site, Hector discovered that it took only ten minutes to walk over the haul-over road to reach the salt water of Bras d'Ors. “We might have to take apart the rafts to get them over the road, but even if we have to do that, it won't be that terrible. It'll give us time to repair the raft attacked by the walrus. I'm going to ask our three best shooters to go out and shoot us a deer right now. As long as we can hide the rafts and shallops partway up the trail, we can finish that transport job tomorrow. We're due for another celebration. We're back on French territory!”

Wind and rain beat down on the group as they dragged the rafts up the slope. But no complaints were voiced — the rain-created mud made their sliding job easier if more messy. As for the three hunters, the storm was also more of a plus than a drawback; it muted the sounds made as they crept up to a big buck. By late afternoon, they made the kill. Although everyone was tired, preparations for a nighttime feast began in earnest — this happy occasion wasn't a time for sleep.

A few boys built a lean-to shelter for the fire, and this cover was soon extended to protect a larger area. Before long the aroma of roast venison permeated the moist nighttime air. Hector whittled a fresh pine branch with a soft centre into a whistle. This proved less than satisfactory, so he took a deer leg bone, dug out the marrow, and punched a few holes into it. Soon the melodies of a flute drifted across the campsite.

Other would-be musicians followed Hector's lead and crafted all kinds of deer bones into flutes of surprising variety. They also made music from whatever else was available, including tapping spoon-shaped wooden sticks. As for the feast, venison proved to be not only the main course but almost the only course. They had run out of vegetables except for a few turnips. The feasting and frolicking went on until the wee hours of the morning.

Late the next day the fugitives' guard went over to Hector and nudged him awake. “We have visitors.”

Hector pulled himself up and blinked sleepily at the older man and woman above him. “Hello, hello! I hope you don't mind us camping here. We're refugees from Grand Pré.”

“You're most welcome,” the older man said. He identified himself as Monsieur Denys, and his wife as Madame Denys. They were the guardians of the haul-over road. The couple had seen the campfire and heard sounds the night before but had been unsure about their own safety, so they had decided to wait until morning to investigate. “We heard you partying last night. It seems like you didn't let the rain stop you from having a good time.”

“Yes, we had fun. Some of us can actually carry a tune.” As was the custom of their people, Hector wanted to offer the visitors food but was unable to do so. “I'm sorry I can't offer you anything to eat. We ate everything last night.”

“That's quite all right. Come over to our cottage when you're rested and we'll be pleased to make you tea.”

“Thank you,” Hector said. “You're very kind to offer us hospitality after we kept you awake.” Hector decided to follow the couple right away. While he walked beside the couple, he noticed that Monsieur Denys was at least as old as Grandpa but appeared to tire more easily.

When Hector told them about their adventures, especially how his leg had been wounded, Madame Denys said, “You're a brave young man. Your injury is a badge of courage. I'm going to give you some of my very best ‘special occasion' cookies with your tea. Everything in the cookies comes from our garden.”

Two hours later Hector returned to their campsite weighed down with a bag full of vegetables, including potatoes and tomatoes, which he had heard about but had never seen before. Monsieur and Madame Denys had told him that the seeds for these crops had come from the Mi'kmaq, who had traded for them with another Native tribe far to the south.

Nola and Jocelyne were excited to see, and taste, the new foods and agreed they would be excellent additions to their cuisine. Curious about Monsieur and Madame Denys and wanting to thank them for their generosity, the girls strolled over to the couple's cottage.

“Hello, Madame Denys,” Nola said when they arrived. “We ate some of the potatoes and tomatoes you gave Hector and wondered if you'd show us those plants.”

“Of course! I love to show off my garden, particularly to young ladies who appreciate its value. There are some plants I didn't give to Hector that you might like to see. For example, look at this tobacco leaf.” She pointed at a tall, big-leafed plant. “It's much loved by the Mi'kmaq people. The soil in this meadow is rich, and the area is well sheltered from cool ocean breezes. Unfortunately, the growing season is too short to support many grain crops, so we have to buy those from farmers farther south.”

“It must be fun to make a meal when you have so many wonderful ingredients,” Jocelyne said.

“That gives me an idea,” Madame Denys said. “If you two will help, I'll prepare a nice dinner for, say, twelve of you. That's all we have room for in this cottage. Make sure that young man with the leg splint, the English lad, and the older man are among those you invite.”

“Thank you, Madame Denys,” Nola said. “We'll go back to our camp and make arrangements. You're very kind.”

The cottage dinner was set for the next evening. Hector decided to choose the seven other invitees via a long-stick, short-stick lottery. Those not invited were allowed to shoot another deer and get vegetables from Madame Denys's garden to fashion their own meal.

The day of the dinner Jocelyne and Nola went over to the cottage in the early afternoon, keen to help Madame Denys with meal preparations. All was ready when the remainder of the dinner group arrived just as the sun was setting. Monsieur and Madame Denys greeted each guest with much ado and a cheery “Welcome! Welcome!”

Everyone was in good spirits until dessert was served. Madame Denys then turned the mood sombre. “Much as my husband and I would like you to stay, this isn't a safe place for you. Several of the French officers stationed at Louisbourg are cruel to homeless people like you. They often drop by St. Peter's and might decide to force you to work without paying you a penny. The Denys family used to be fairly rich from exporting wood, fish, and furs to France, but unscrupulous deals by the governor have ruined our business. Laws are passed just for the benefit of the ruling class. Ordinary people have no say. It's an unfair system. I remember —”