Band of Acadians (7 page)

A few days after this crucial goal was achieved, Toomy and his dog came by to visit. Nola asked Toomy the dog's name. She couldn't pronounce the vowels Toomy voiced. To her it sounded something like “Zena.” So she called out, “Zena, over here, I have a snack for you.” To her delight the dog approached, tail wagging, and took the piece of fish Nola offered. After eating it, the dog offered a paw for her to shake. Nola grinned. “I think I just made a new friend.”

Toomy signed to Nola and Jocelyne to join him and Zena in his canoe. They climbed aboard, and he paddled about fifty feet offshore. He took out a spear stored in the bottom of his canoe and stood. Carefully, he scanned the cold water and within minutes managed to spear a lobster. He handed this prize to Nola, using the same gesture she had employed when she gave him the jar of honey. Nola smiled. “Thank you.”

Toomy gestured that Nola should give spearing a try. She could only glimpse vague shapes through the murky water. “I can't see well enough for this, Jocelyne. You try.” She handed her friend the spear.

It took Jocelyne twice as long as Toomy, but she succeeded at last. “It's tough, but I can do it.” She placed her catch under her seat.

The three paddled over to Whycocomagh Bay where Toomy pointed at two long rows of sticks planted in the water perpendicular to the shore. The width between the sticks gradually narrowed. When the girls canoed over to the apex of this array, they saw that many fish had been caught behind a barrier net that stretched to the shore. Looking closer, Nola cried, “Ooh! There are only eels in that net. I don't like eels.”

“I've tasted them,” Jocelyne said. “They're oily and none too pleasant to eat.”

Toomy could see his companions weren't pleased but made no gesture of acknowledgement.

After this excursion, they paddled back to their campsite and were enjoying the scenery when suddenly they realized that Zena was taking advantage of their inattentiveness. She was quietly munching away on their prized lobsters! Toomy called out roughly to his dog, but it was too late. Zena had eaten everything edible.

“Dogs will be dogs,” Jocelyne said. “It's our fault for not watching her.”

Nola nodded. “I think there's quite a bit of wolf left in that dog.”

Toomy dropped them off with the suggestion that they come to his village for a visit.

For the next month the girls were too busy to follow up on Toomy's tempting invitation. Mostly, they tried different non-spear ways to catch lobster. But in the last week of October two events made a visit to the Mi'kmaq urgent: a driving snowstorm hit the encampment, a reminder that their water passageway to Whycocomagh would soon close, and they received an invitation to a special ceremony scheduled for the next afternoon. The refugees were so eager that at the crack of dawn the next day four shallops crammed with
Rameurs
, including Jocelyne, Nola, and Grandpa, went off to the Native community.

On the way Nola said, “We're making progress with those lobster traps. This morning when I checked the traps there were four in one alone. That's our best haul yet. I think that last design change Hector made did the trick.”

“Most of the credit belongs to you, Nola,” Frank said. “You made sure we persisted until we got a design that worked.”

On arrival the guests were ushered into the House of Prayer teepee. The village elders, dressed in colourful attire, were dancing in a circle to the slow beat of drums and chanting a solemn refrain — a beautiful ritual. The autumn goose hunt had been successful. This celebration was the Native way of giving thanks.

Grandpa, the only
Rameur
to understand the lyrics, said, “The Mi'kmaq are a profoundly spiritual people. Even if you don't understand what's being sung, it's easy to see they're truly thankful for the bounty their gods have given them. They have a strong connection to the spirit world.”

The thanksgiving dance was followed by storytelling. Grandpa interpreted what was being said. One tale told of a brave hunter named Glooscap with superhuman powers but who was often unlucky in the hunt because of an evil wizard's mischief. There was also an artful sorceress who alternated between helping Glooscap and frustrating him. In another story Glooscap had a big battle with the Ice King, who had brought a harsh winter that made Glooscap's people cold, hungry, and sick. Glooscap might have had great and powerful gifts, but he had limitations that made him a sympathetic, much-beloved hero.

The storytelling was followed by plates of a stew for everyone. After the meal, Jocelyne went to see the cook. With Grandpa acting as interpreter, she asked, “What makes your stew so tasty?”

In response the cook brought out an herb that Jocelyne immediately recognized as wild garlic. “So that's it. It adds a wonderful flavour to your stew. Thank you for telling me.” She bowed in appreciation.

Grandpa translated the cook's response. “You must learn to let the land take care of you.”

“That's a wise woman,” Nola said. “Talking of wisdom, did you notice that even old Mi'kmaq people have healthy teeth? I think Native foods have a special quality that's missing in our food. In Acadia older people either lose most of their teeth or have a lot of cavities. I wonder why that happens.”

“I don't know,” Grandpa said, “but I've lost just about all my teeth, and those that I still have hurt like the devil. If the Natives have a ‘secret ingredient,' I'd sure like to know what it is.”

Toomy signalled the
Rameurs
to gather around. He proceeded to demonstrate how to make a snowshoe from deerskin and a single piece of pliable wood. The shoe he made was round like an animal's paw print and had sinews made from animal tendons, which were used to tie the skin to the wood.

Then Toomy cut a supple hardwood branch and shaped it into a six-foot-long bow so stiff that not one of the girls could flex it. This device was more familiar to the boys. The British had long forbidden Acadians to own muskets, so to compensate many had learned to make bows and arrows. It was the only weapon they had for hunting.

Showing he understood, Hector said, “I know that the best bows are taken from a hardwood that can be shaped so that the stretchy sapwood is on the forward side. It pulls back to its original shape and has the heartwood on the inside to help push it back.”

Toomy had other members of his tribe help the refugees attempt these survival crafts, but most found them frustrating. Such tasks took great skill to do well. Only a few — Hector was one — had the dexterity to master this work. For most it would take the whole winter before they managed even a little competence. Frank was impressed by the technologies developed by the Mi'kmaq.

At dusk the
Rameurs
paddled back to their encampment contented. It had been an intense, lively day. As soon as they reached home, they collapsed onto their comfortable spruce bough beds and slept soundly.

Food at their encampment, dominated by cod and now lobster, was decidedly less appealing than the meat-rich fare available to the Natives. By the end of November, several
Rameurs
began to look quite gaunt — freezing temperatures were making food gathering from the sea more dangerous and difficult. Hector, the first to master the use of a bow and arrow while on snowshoes, went out hunting each day and usually managed to bring back a porcupine or two. Sometimes this was supplemented by a partridge, but he was always careful to obey the Chief Toomy's no-big-game rule, though more than once he was solely tempted to shoot a deer.

Each morning they now spied animal tracks in the snow. The most common belonged to rabbits and mice. Every few days Toomy dropped by with Zena. He demonstrated how to make and set snares to catch rabbits, and soon rabbit stew became a much sought after menu item.

Within a month their snare lines extended almost twenty miles into the bush. Even so, their traps produced fewer rabbits each day, far less than the demand. Everyone knew this catch would only get worse as the winter progressed. It was becoming clearer why only the strong survived the harsh winter.

When a storm lasting a week shut down all food gathering, Jocelyne complained bitterly. “Everybody's half starved. These storms are so powerful they seem like vengeance from God. Have we done something wrong? If this continues, by Christmas we'll be starving.”

Nola considered their situation thoughtfully. She wondered if they could trap the rabbits alive. If they could, perhaps they could start a colony just as they had kept chickens back at Grand Pré. She decided to approach Hector with this idea.

Hector frowned. “If you can find some rabbit bait, I can try to rig a trip box that might catch them, but it won't be easy.”

“We don't have any carrots left, and that's their favourite food. But I saw some rabbits munching on seaweed the other day. Perhaps that would work as bait.”

For the next few days Nola and Hector tried different trap designs and baits, but had no success. “I knew this wouldn't be easy,” he groused.

One day, shortly after this disappointment, Toomy came by with his dog. He chuckled when he saw what they were attempting. Although he had never done any live trapping himself, he was excited by the challenge and had an excellent suggestion. Perhaps Zena could be trained to chase the rabbits into the live traps.

“That dog's too smart for that,” Hector said. “It's her instinct to kill her prey.”

“Yes,” Nola said, “but Toomy has a good idea. If we're patient and practise every day, Zena could be trained to obey a new command. Training dogs to do new tricks is all about routines. As you said, she's smart. I wager you my share of our next rabbit stew that I can do it.”

“It's a bet.”

Now that Nola's pride was at stake, she sat next to Zena and had a little chat. “I need your help, Zena. We know you're good at chasing rabbits, but now you have to learn a new trick. You have to catch them without killing them.” Zena licked Nola's hand, sat on her haunches, and offered a paw. Nola shook the dog's paw. “I knew you'd understand, Zena. We have a deal. Now let's practise.” As they went off to the trap lines, Zena wagged her tail with great enthusiasm.

Hector was right. It
was
tough. But after only two weeks, Toomy was also correct. Bit by bit, Zena got more proficient, and finally, one afternoon just before Christmas, she succeeded. She chased a rabbit straight into a live trap. Nola beamed with delight. “Good, Zena! Good girl!”

After that first success, others came quickly. By the first week of the new year, they had twenty rabbits corralled in a pen built of ice walls on three sides. The side of Nola's hut served as the fourth wall.

Hector was gracious in defeat. “Here, Nola, you can have my rabbit stew. We might not have much output from your rabbit scheme for a while, but it's certainly put everyone in a more hopeful frame of mind.”

“Thank you, Hector, but the credit really belongs to Zena, so I'm giving her your stew.”

Zena ate Hector's portion with such relish that even he had to respond with a wistful grin.

Managing a rabbit hutch proved to be a lot of work. Each day Nola and twenty girls had to gather food for the hutch and clean the pens. Since deep snow covered most of the regular rabbit fare, she devised a method, using their rafts, to harvest sea moss and kelp, but this was cold, dangerous work. Then the moss and kelp had to be washed in fresh water before the rabbits would eat it. But these labours met with notable success. Slowly, steadily, their rabbit colony grew, and all agreed it was worth the effort. Every time the
Rameurs
ate farmed rabbit stew, Nola felt a flash of pride. Now when storms hit they were still hungry but were instilled with hope that things would soon get better.

Flushed with this accomplishment, Nola decided she would record the event by drawing a picture of a rabbit. Toomy helped by preparing a large piece of birchbark for the picture panel, while Nola made a variety of the charcoal sticks she would need — big, small, hard, and soft ones. The resulting drawing pleased everyone. It depicted an attractive, long-eared rabbit sitting on its haunches in deep snow. Nola was so proud of the picture that she signed it with her formal name — Noella — together with the year, 1756. Her rabbit feat and enthusiasm had given the
Rameurs
encouragement just when it was most needed.

Frank's lessons continued to be popular, though the shortage of writing surfaces was a problem. One day in mid-January, acutely frustrated at this lack, he made a strange suggestion. “Monsieur Denys's map shows that just twenty miles from here, where the lake narrows, there's a gypsum deposit. Gypsum's a fairly soft stone, so we might be able to shape it to make a flat surface for writing.”

Hector nodded. “Many of us are definitely irritated at this writing surface problem. We have the time and some of us have become good at using snowshoes, so even a fairly long trip could be managed.”

“And, of course, let's not forget such a trip would be an adventure,” Frank added.

Three days later a party of twenty boys set off to the little narrows. Several girls pleaded to join the group, but Hector, to their great annoyance, said no. There was too much work to be done at camp.

“Hector isn't being fair to us girls,” Jocelyne grumbled.

While the gypsum crew was away, Nola and Jocelyne introduced an Order of Good Cheer modelled on Samuel de Champlain's first winter in Acadia. Each evening one of four groups put on various entertainments such as dances, plays, or storytelling. It was a great way to have fun and to soothe hurt feelings at being denied going on the trip, not to mention a good way to divert attention from concern about the welfare of the gypsum crew.

After two weeks, with no word from the gypsum crew, the Good Cheer activities started losing their appeal. Most
Rameurs
felt it was time to ask Toomy to launch a search party. Toomy's mission was just getting underway when at long last the gypsum crew returned.