Canada: The Empire of the North — From 1698 to 1713, part 2

Encouraged by Church's success and stung by the raids of French corsairs from Port Royal, New England set herself seriously to the task of conquering Acadia.

Colonel March sailed {197} from Boston with one thousand men and twenty-three transports, and on June 6, 1707, came into Port Royal.

Misfortunes began from the first.

March's men were the rawest of recruits,--fishermen, farmers, carpenters, turned into soldiers.

Unused to military discipline, they resisted command.

A

French guardhouse stood at the entrance to Port Royal Basin, and fifteen men at once fled to the fort with warning of the English invasion.

Consequently, when Colonel March and Colonel Appleton attempted to land their men, they were serenaded by the shots of an ambushed foe.

Also French soldiers deserted to the English camp with fabulous stories about the strength of the French under Subercase.

These yarns ought to have discredited themselves, but they struck terror to the hearts of March's green fighters.

Then came St. Castin from St. John River with bushrovers to help Subercase.

To the amazement of the French the English hoisted sail and returned, on June 16, without having fired more than a round of shot.

The truth is, March's carpenters and fishermen refused to fight, though reënforcements joined them halfway home and they made a second attempt on Port Royal in August.

March returned to Boston heartbroken, for his name had become a byword to the mob, and he was greeted in the streets with shouts of "Old Wooden Sword!"

While Boston was attempting to wreak vengeance on Acadia for the raiders of Quebec, the bushrovers from the St. Lawrence continued to scourge the outlying settlements of New England.

To post soldiers on the frontier was useless.

Wherever there were guards the raiders simply passed on to some unprotected village, and to have kept soldiers along the line of the whole frontier would have required a standing army.

Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, northern New York,--on the frontier of each reigned perpetual terror.

And the fiendish work was a paying business to the pagan Indian; for the Christian white men paid well for all scalps, and ransom money could always be extorted for captives.

Barely had the Boston raid on Port Royal failed, when Governor de Vaudreuil of Quebec {198} retaliated by turning his raiders loose on Haverhill.

The English fleet failed at Port Royal in June.

By dawn of Sunday, August 29, Hertel de Rouville had swooped on the English village of Haverhill with one hundred Canadian bushrovers and one hundred and fifty Indians.

The story of one raid is the story of all; so this one need not be told.

As the raiders were discovered at daylight, the people had a chance to defend themselves, and some of the villagers escaped, the family of one being hidden by a negro nurse under tubs in the cellar.

Alarm had been carried to the surrounding settlements, and men rode hot haste in pursuit of the forty prisoners.

Hertel de Rouville coolly sent back word, if the pursuers did not desist, all the prisoners would be scalped and left on the roadside.

Some fifty English had fallen in the fight, but the French lost fifteen, among them young Jared of Verchéres, brother of the heroine.

[Illustration: CONTEMPORARY PLAN OF PORT ROYAL BASIN] The only peace for Massachusetts was the peace that would be a victory, and again New England girded herself to the task of capturing Acadia.

It was open war now, for the crowns of England and France were at odds.

The troops were commanded by General Francis Nicholson, an English officer who brought out four war ships and four hundred trained marines.

There were, besides, thirty-six transports and three thousand provincial troops, clothed and outfitted by Queen Anne of England.

Sunday, September 24, 1710, the fleet glides majestically into Port Royal Basin.

That night the wind blew a hurricane and the transport _Caesar_ went aground with a crash that smashed her timbers to kindling wood and sent twenty-four men to a watery grave; but General Nicholson gave the raw provincials no time for panic fright.

Day dawn, Monday, drums rolling a martial tread, trumpets blowing, bugles setting the echoes flying, flags blowing to the wind in the morning sun, he commanded Colonel Vetch to lead the men ashore.

Inside Port Royal's palisades Subercase, the French commander, had less than three hundred men, half that number absolutely naked of clothing, and all short of powder.

There were not provisions to last a month; but, game to his soul's marrow, as all the warriors of {199} those early days, Subercase put up a brave fight, sending his bombs singing over the heads of the English troops in a vain attempt to baffle the landing.

Nicholson retaliated by moving his bomb ship, light of draught, close to the French fort and pouring a shower of bombs through the roofs of the French fort.

Spite of the wreck the night before, by four o'clock Monday afternoon all the English had landed in perfect order and high spirits.

Slowly the English forces swung in a circle completely round the fort.

Again and again, by daylight and dark, Subercase's naked soldiers rushed, screeching the war whoop, to ambush and stampede the English line; but Nicholson's regulars stood the fire like rocks, and the desperate sortie of the French ended in fifty of Subercase's soldiers deserting en masse to the English.

By Friday Nicholson's guns were all mounted in place to bombard the little wooden fort.

Subercase was desperate.

Women and children from the settlement had crowded into the fort for protection, and were now crazed with fear by the bursting bombs, while the naked soldiers could be kept on the walls only at the sword point of their commanding officers.

{200} For two hundred French to have held out longer against three thousand five hundred English would have been madness.

Subercase made the presence of the women in Port Royal an excuse to send a messenger with flag of truce across to Nicholson, asking the English to take the women under their protection.

Nicholson might well have asked what protection the French raiders had accorded the women of the New England frontiers; but he sent back polite answer that "as he was not warring on women and children" he would receive them in the English camp, meanwhile holding Subercase's messenger prisoner, as he had entered the English camp without warning, eyes unbound.

Sunday, October 1, the English bombs again began singing overhead.

Subercase sends word he will capitulate if given honorable terms.

For a month the parleying continues.

Then November 13 the terms are signed on both sides, the English promising to furnish ships to carry the garrison to some French port and pledging protection to the people of the settlement.

November 14 the French officers and their ladies come across to the English camp and breakfast in pomp with the English commanders.

Seventeen New England captives are hailed forth from Port Royal dungeons, "all in rags, without shirts, shoes, or stockings."

On the 16th Nicholson draws his men up in two lines, one on each side of Port Royal gates, and the two hundred French soldiers marched out, saluting Nicholson as they passed to the transports.

On the bridge, halfway out, French officers meet the English officers, doff helmets, and present the keys to the fort.

For the last time Port Royal changes hands.

Henceforth it is English, and in gratitude for the Queen's help Nicholson renamed the place as it is known to-day,--Annapolis.

Among the raiders capitulating is the famous bushrover Baron St. Castin of Maine.

When Nicholson returned to Boston all New England went mad with delight.

Thanksgiving services were held, joy bells rang day and night for a week, and bonfires blazed on village commons to the gleeful shoutings of rustic soldiers returned to the home settlements glorified heroes.

{201} [Illustration: PAUL MASCARENE] At Annapolis (Port Royal) Paul Mascarene, a French Huguenot of Boston, has mounted guard with two hundred and fifty New England volunteers.

Colonel Vetch is nominally the English governor; but Vetch is in Boston the most of the time, and it is on Mascarene the burden of governing falls.

His duties are not light.

Palisades have been broken down and must be repaired.

Bombs have torn holes in the fort roofs, and all that winter the rain leaks in as through a sieve.

The soldier volunteers grumble and mope and sicken.

And these are not the least of Paul Mascarene's troubles.

French priests minister to the Acadian farmers outside the fort, to the sinister Indians ever lying in ambush, to the French bushrovers under young St. Castin across Fundy Bay on St. John River.

Not for love or money can Mascarene buy provisions from the Acadians.

Not by threats can he compel them to help mend the breaches in the palisades.

The young commandant was only twenty-seven years of age, but he must have guessed whence came the unspoken hostility.

The first miserable winter wears slowly past and the winter of 1711 is setting in, with the English garrison even more poverty stricken than the year before, when there drifts into Annapolis Basin, in a birch canoe paddled by a New Brunswick Indian, a white woman with her little son.

She has come, she says, from the north side of Fundy Bay, because the French {202} on St. John River are starving.

Whether the story be true or false matters little.

It was the Widow Freneuse, the snake woman of mischief-making witchery, who had woven her spells round the officers in the days of the French at Port Royal.

True or false, her story, added to her smile, excited sympathy, and she was welcomed to the shelter of the fort.

It had been almost impossible for the English to obtain trees to repair the walls of the fort, and seventy English soldiers were sent out secretly by night to paddle up the river in a whaleboat for timber.

Who conveyed secret warning of this expedition to the French bushraiders outside?

No doubt the fair spy, Widow Freneuse, could have told if she would; but five miles from Port Royal, where the river narrowed to a place ever since known as Bloody Brook, a crash of musket shots flared from the woods on each side.

Painted Indians, and Frenchmen dressed as Indians, among whom was a son of Widow Freneuse, dashed out.

Sixteen English were killed, nine wounded, the rest to a man captured, to be held for ransoms ranging from 10 pounds to 50 pounds.

Oddly enough, the very night after the attack, before news of it had come to Annapolis, the Widow Freneuse disappears from the fort.

Henceforth Paul Mascarene's men kept guard night and day, and slept in their boots.

Ever like a sinister shadow of evil moved St. Castin and his raiders through the Acadian wildwoods.

Only one thing prevented the French recapturing Port Royal at this time.

All troops were required to defend Quebec itself from invasion.

Nicholson's success at Port Royal spurred England and her American colonies to a more ambitious project,--to capture Quebec and subjugate Canada.

This time Nicholson was to head twenty-five hundred provincial troops by way of Lake Champlain to the St. Lawrence, while a British army of twelve thousand, half soldiers, half marines, on fifteen frigates and forty-six transports, was to sail from Boston for Quebec.

The navy was under command of Sir Hovender Walker; the army, of General Jack Hill, a court favorite of Queen Anne's, more noted for {203} his graces than his prowess.

The whole expedition is one of the most disgraceful in the annals of English war.

The fleet left Boston on July 30, 1711, Nicholson meanwhile waiting encamped on Lake Champlain.

Early in August the immense fleet had rounded Sable Island and was off the shores of Anticosti.

Though there was no good pilot on board, the two commanders nightly went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.

Off Egg Islands, on the night of August 22, there was fog and a strong east wind.

Walker evidently thought he was near the south shore, ignorant of the strong undertow of the tide here, which had carried his ships thirty miles off the course.

The water was rolling in the lumpy masses of a choppy cross sea when a young captain of the regulars dashed breathlessly into Walker's stateroom and begged him "for the Lord's sake to come on deck, for there are reefs ahead and we shall all be lost!"

With a seaman's laugh at a landsman's fears, the Admiral donned dressing gown and slippers and shuffled up to the decks.

A pale moon had broken through the ragged fog wrack, and through the white light they plainly saw mountainous breakers straight ahead.

Walker shouted to let the anchor go and drive to the wind.

Above the roar of breakers and trample of panic-stricken seamen over decks could be heard the minute guns of the other ships firing for help.

Then pitch darkness fell with slant rains in a deluge.

The storm abated, but all night long, above the boom of an angry sea, could be heard shrieks and shoutings for help; and by the light of the Admiral's ship could be seen the faces of the dead cast up by the moil of the sea.

Before dawn eight transports had suffered shipwreck and one thousand lives were lost.

It was a night to put fear in the hearts of all but very brave men, and neither Walker nor Hill proved man enough to stand firm to the shock.

Walker ascribed the loss to the storm and the storm to Providence; and when war council was held three days later Jack Hill, the court dandy, was only too glad of excuse to turn tail and flee to England without firing a gun.

Poor old Nicholson, waiting with his provincials up on Lake Champlain, {204} goes into apoplexy with tempests of rage and chagrin, when he hears the news, stamping the ground, tearing off his wig, and shouting, "Rogues!

rogues!"

He burns his fort and disbands his men.

The Peace of Utrecht in 1713 for the time closed the war.

France had been hopelessly defeated in Europe, and the terms were favorable to England.

All of Hudson Bay was to be restored to the English; but--note well--it was not specified where the boundaries were to be between Hudson Bay and Quebec.

That boundary dispute came down as a heritage to modern days--thanks to the incompetency and ignorance of the statesmen who arranged the treaty.

Acadia was given to England, but Cape Breton was retained by the French, and--note well--it was not stated whether Acadia included New Brunswick and Maine, as the French formerly contended, or included only the peninsula south of the Bay of Fundy.

That boundary dispute, too, came down.

Newfoundland was acknowledged as an English possession, but the French retained the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, with fishing privileges on the shores of Newfoundland.

That concession, too, has come down to trouble modern days,--thanks to the same defenders of colonial interests.

The Iroquois were acknowledged to be subjects of England, but it was not stated whether that concession included the lands of the Ohio raided and subjugated by the Iroquois; and that vagueness was destined to cost both New France and New England some of its best blood.

It has been stated, and stated many times without dispute, that when England sacrificed the interests of her colonies in boundary settlements, she did so because she was in honor bound to observe the terms of treaties.

One is constrained to ask whose ignorance was responsible for the terms of those treaties.

Looking back on the record so far,--both of France and England,--which has spent the more both of substance and of life for defense; the mother countries or the colonies?

{205} CHAPTER XI FROM 1713 TO 1755

La Vérendrye's adventuring to the West--Adventurers reach Lake Winnipeg--From Assiniboine to Missouri--Intrigue with Indians--The building of Louisburg--The siege of the great fort--Jokes bandied by fighters--Quarrels left unsettled--Beyond the Alleghenies--Washington and Jumonville--Braddock's march--Defeat of Braddock--Abbé Le Loutre--The Acadians--Deportation of French--At Lake Champlain--Dieskau defeated