Band of Acadians

  Band of

  Acadians

  Band of

  Acadians

  a novel

  John Skelton

  Copyright © John Skelton, 2009

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  Editor: Michael Carroll

  Designer: Jennifer Scott

  Printer: Webcom

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Skelton, John, 1942-

  Band of Acadians : a novel / by John Skelton.

  ISBN 978-1-55488-040-9

  1. Acadians--Expulsion, 1755--Juvenile fiction. I. Title.

  PS8637.K45B36 2009 jC813’.6 C2009-900500-X

  1 2 3 4 5 13 12 11 10 09

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  J. Kirk Howard, President

  Printed and bound in Canada.

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  For Brian and Hollyberry Oursie Bear with love

  CONTENTS

  1. Grand Pré

  2. Crossing the Isthmus

  3. Tatamagouche

  4. To St. Peter’s

  5. Whycocomagh

  6. Westmount and Louisbourg

  7. Amazing Excitement

  8. War

  Selected Reading and Websites

  1

  Grand Pré

  Fenced-in yard of Saint-Charles-des-Mines Church, Sunset, September 9, 1755

  “Courage, my dear, you must muster all of your courage,” Nola’s father said. “Your mother and I beg you to show your love by escaping Grand Pré this very night. Tomorrow will be too late. First thing in the morning the British soldiers will be shoving all men and boys onto those awful transport boats. That will be the end of our life here in lovely Acadia. We’ll be landless and treated like dirt wherever we go. But you, Nola, with daring and luck, can get away to start a new life. We want you to escape to become our beacon of hope. Get away, dear daughter. Go to Louisbourg, or somewhere else that’s safe.”

  “But, Papa, no! I want to help you and Mama here. I want us to stay together as a family.”

  “In a better world that would be the right thing to do, but we must accept that our life here is over. Be strong, my love. We’ve worked out a plan for you and fifty other girls and fifty boys to escape. You’re a leader. We’re depending on you to help lead those young people to a place where you can live free from these dreadful British soldiers.”

  “What about Mama? Will she stay with you?”

  “Yes, we’ll work together to survive as best we can. The plan is for you, as soon as it’s dark, to help our friend, Hector, and the others to escape from this church that’s become a prison. You and the girls must prepare hollows in the dikes by the west side of the Gaspereau River beforehand so the others have a place to hide from the soldiers. When the soldiers give up searching, the whole group is to scramble over to where our small fishing sloops are stored. Our hope is that those trusty shallops will carry you away from Grand Pré to a new life.”

  “Has Hector agreed to this? Is he ready?”

  “Yes, Hector’s very keen. He’s sick to death of being shoved around by the military.”

  “Papa, if I do this, I may never see you or Mama again.”

  Her father hugged her tightly, tears welling up. “Don’t despair, ma petite fille. We must hope that someday, somewhere, we’ll be reunited in a place that’s safer than Grand Pré has become.”

  Unable to stifle her own sobs, Nola mustered all her strength and turned away from her distraught father. Looking up, she saw a surly sky forming — a southeaster was coming in. That could bring cover and a good wind for an escape. Perhaps she could make it all happen, after all. Slowly, optimism began to fill her as she contemplated the implications of the advancing storm. She walked nervously past the heavily guarded priest’s house used as a headquarters by the British, and studiously avoiding eye contact with the soldiers, went straight to the spot in a field where her best friend, Jocelyne, was picking corn. On reaching her friend, she whispered nervously, “Jocelyne, have you heard about the escape plan?”

  “Yes, Nola, my mother told me. Our parents have come up with an excellent plan. It’s scary, but I think we can do it. There are only three hundred soldiers here, and we’re almost three thousand. It won’t be easy. Those soldiers are tough, and they aren’t playing games. Some of the meaner ones seem to enjoy harassing us.”

  “I know what you mean. Yesterday one of them tried to touch me, but I shrieked so loudly he ran off. It was lucky for me there were others around when that happened. It’s going to be difficult and scary, but the more I think about it the more I believe escaping is the right thing to do.” Hesitating for a moment, Nola continued. “Let’s get a crew of girls together without attracting undue attention and start loading food in our shallops.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve agreed to come,” Jocelyne said, reaching over and giving her friend a big hug. “I’ve got some corn here, and near our house there are apples, wheat, carrots, and turnips.”

  “That’s my Jocelyne! If you could butcher a few dozen chickens, that would help, but you must do it quietly or don’t do it at all. And try to get some blankets to protect us from the weather. There’s not much time before Hector and company will be looking for our signals, so do what you can in the next few hours and then hide by the shallops. On second thought, I’d best get the rest of the girls and start digging hollows into the dikes myself. Are you going to be all right to get the supplies on your own?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll try. I know where everything is, including where the soldiers stowed our shallops. Count on me to do my best. But I’m not sure how you’ll make those hiding holes.”

  “Try not to worry about that,” Nola said. “You’ll have more than enough to do yourself. Father told me how to work around the hollow places between the main supports in the dikes. We’ll need shovels and saws for that. He said we need to make enough room to hide about fifty people. I think we can hide the entrances by replacing the flaps of grass. You go ahead and do what you have to do.”

  “Did you hear that your grandpa may be coming with us? The soldiers didn’t lock him up at the church since it’s so crowded and they figured he’s too old to cause them much trouble.”

  “That’s great news,” Nola said. “He’s a good man with lots of experience. I’m sure he’ll be a big help even with that painful arthritis of his.”

  While Jocelyne busied herself with the food and shelter tasks, Nola moved on to some houses and scouted around for tools. Alo
ng the way she attempted to recruit a few girls she judged were responsible enough to handle the tough and dangerous job of tunnelling into the dikes. She found the tools she needed and convinced several trustworthy girls to take on the digging and sawing tasks.

  About four hours after dusk the streets were deserted and dark enough that Nola felt the time was right for her and her crew to slink toward the embankments. That risky manoeuvre went off without a hitch, and the dike work began. Nola was cheered that the wind and rain from the incoming southeaster helped muffle the noise of their burrowing.

  Mud, restricted space, and dim lantern lights made digging and chopping difficult and sweaty, yet after an hour’s work Nola paused to say, “You know, it’s strange, but I find this work actually quite comforting.”

  Three hours into the task and bathed in sweat she judged they had made sufficient headway. She sat inside the biggest hollow, turned up the lantern, and called her fellow diggers. “Great work, girls, but that’s all we have time to do. Give yourself a pat on the back. Our next step is for you join the others back at the shallops. There’s no need to risk having all of you here when the soldiers chase after the boys. Anyway, there’s not enough room. I’ll stay behind to signal them. Go, run over to those boats.”

  There were many grumbles about leaving Nola alone, though everyone understood why that had to be. Those hesitating too long — and there were several — she shoved forcibly out the flap door, chiding them. “Go! It’s the right thing to do now.”

  Shortly after the last girl slipped out, Nola climbed to the top of the dike and waved her signal light in a slow semicircle. She then crouched so that only her head and no light showed. Almost immediately shouts and thumping noises came from the direction of the church, and an instant after that a stream of figures rose out of the darkness and swept toward her at full speed. She doused the lantern and stood, casting a dim silhouette in the shadows of the night.

  The first boy over the embankment hugged her, saying, “Am I ever glad to see you.”

  “Me, too,” Nola said. “See the open grass flaps where we’ve dug holes? Wait there so the other boys can follow you in.”

  The boy whispered from the flap, “You’ve made a great hiding place, Nola.” He waved to some other boys, and within a blink of an eye the whole crew crawled into the rough sanctuaries and pulled shut the earthen flaps. Except for the steady patter of rain, an eerie silence fell over the area.

  Not two minutes later, they heard heavy footfalls over the dikes and then a voice. Hector, the only fugitive who understood English, heard: “I thought they came this way, but I don’t see them anywhere.”

  “Keep looking!” said a booming male voice. “Those scalawags can’t have gone far.”

  “Those youngsters are a bad lot,” another, less forceful voice said. “Troublemakers — every one of them. Someone planned all this, you can be sure. Only the boys ran off, while the men stayed behind to slow us down. It won’t work, though. We’ll get those little runaways even if they do run fast. I’m surprised I can’t see the rascals anywhere.”

  “Curse this rain, and no moon. It’s too dark to see more than a few feet ahead.”

  “Look over there! Is that something moving?”

  “Yes! Go catch those silly devils.”

  Fifteen minutes later the hideaways heard boots tromping again and the man with the booming saying, “It was a moose. I recognized those tracks. I think those accursed children have gotten away.”

  “Colonel Winslow won’t be pleased we let them escape,” the more timid man said, sighing.

  “Only for now. We’ll be back at first light to catch them for sure. They won’t get far in this filthy weather.

  Let’s return to headquarters. This rain is nasty.”

  Inside their dank refuge the fugitives crouched in silence, except for one boy who shook Hector and asked, “What were the soldiers saying?”

  The youth’s voice jolted fugitive hearts to beat in fear. Hector put a finger to his lips and shushed the boy with a vigorous shake of his head. Soon the patter of rain was again the only noise to be heard. After a nerve-wracking wait, with no new outside movement apparent, hope grew bit by bit that their pursuers might really have gone.

  “I’m going outside to check,” Hector whispered at last. Then a few moments later, from outside the flap, he said softly, “Everyone, come on up. It looks like they’ve gone.”

  The whole crew crawled out swiftly and clambered to the top of the embankment. Peering out, they spotted a dim light about a quarter-mile off in the church window. Although everyone was muddy and drenched, a cheerful mood filled the fugitives. It looked as if the first stage of their parents’ daring escape plan had worked.

  Immediately seizing the initiative, Hector asked, “Nola, where have the soldiers stored our shallops?”

  “Across the river, about a mile along the shore.”

  Hector frowned. “We’re soaked already. The river isn’t too deep here, but it’s possible this rain has already swollen its flow. We might have to swim a little near the middle. Don’t forget to bring the tools Nola brought. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Making sure the flaps were closed, Nola was the last to leave. There was no need to make it easy for the British soldiers to discover where they had hidden. Her homespun woollen clothes were soaked through, her prized, lovingly decorated moccasins were coated with mud, and her brown hair was matted and tangled, but she was thrilled with their success so far.

  Crossing to the east side of the swelling Gaspereau River, one of the smaller boys — only twelve years old — slipped and fell into the water. Struggling for air, he dropped the axe he was carrying.

  Hector leaped into the river and easily pulled him to safety. “I hope you didn’t swallow too much water back there, young man.”

  “Thanks, Hector. I’ll be all right. Sorry about the axe.”

  “You’re more important than the axe, my friend.”

  Eager to reach the shallops, the ragtag group skittered hurriedly along the shore. The lashing wind and rain limited talk to brief whispers. They all realized, though, that if the soldiers heard or saw them, they would be brutally hauled back and locked up. So few chose to say anything at all.

  Only Nola knew exactly where the British had stowed their shallops, so she took the lead as they approached the storage area. Studying the site carefully, Nola recognized the shape of overturned boats emerging out of the darkness. She nudged Hector and pointed to them.

  “I see them,” he said, and sprinted over to them. As he ran, Jocelyne and the girls spotted him and left their hiding spot, waving and smiling with relief.

  “Great to see you,” Jocelyne whispered. “We hid the food and blankets in the bushes. The British patrol this area regularly. Unfortunately, they took all the oars and sails away.”

  “Hello, girls. Good work with the food and things. The missing oars and sails are a problem, though.”

  “I think I know what to do about that,” Nola said. “I saw several British whaleboats riding at anchor earlier today — about a hundred yards back, I think. They might have oars and sails.”

  “Good idea,” Hector said. “It’s worth a try.”

  As the others helped to push the little sloops to the shore and load them, Hector, two other boys, and Nola pulled an empty shallop along the beach to the spot where Nola thought the whaleboats were anchored. They shoved off into the inky blackness, paddling hard with their hands and placing their fate entirely in Nola’s recollection. Soon, just as Nola had hoped, silhouettes of whaleboats became visible. Pulling up to one, they all broke into broad smiles when they found it held not only oars and sails but a mast, as well.

  Hector grabbed these and then untied the anchor line. “It’ll drift off. No need to make it easy for our pursuers to get these back. They certainly aren’t giving us any breaks.”

  They moved off to check the contents of another whaleboat. In less than half an hour they were rowing back to
shore with a shallop full of equipment.

  “We have all we need to set sail now,” Hector told everybody. “The tide’s ebbing and the wind’s heading straight out of the bay — perfect conditions for us. Let’s go.”

  They all hopped onto a boat helter-skelter, filling eighteen shallops with five or six persons per vessel. Most had a mixed crew. Hector, Jocelyne, Nola, and Nola’s grandfather were in the same shallop.

  Hector pulled up sail and pointed the tiller to head out of the basin. The southeast wind moved them along at a brisk speed. “At this rate by first light we’ll be well out of here and deep into Chignecto Bay,” he told them.

  Ten minutes into the sail Nola pointed to several large sailing ships riding at anchor. “Those are the transport ships that are going to take our parents away to a very bleak future.”

  “I’m going to head away from them,” Hector said. “We don’t want any sentinels onboard to spot us. Signal the others to follow our lead.”

  All turned except for the helmsmen of two shallops. Seeing this reckless behaviour, Nola felt a shiver of fear. Instinctively, she reached into a food sack, grabbed a turnip, and heaved it with all her might at the irresponsible sailors. But her missile fell several feet short of its target.

  Hector immediately scooped up another turnip, stood straight, and threw it as hard as he could. The vegetable struck the closest helmsman right in the chest. Both errant shallops began to turn away.

  “Thank God that got their attention,” Hector said. “Those fools would’ve ruined everything before we even got out of the harbour.”

  Pulling farther away from the huge ships, Hector managed a thin smile. “I cut more than fifteen of those whaleboats adrift. But the best part is that I found a spyglass in one of them. It’s a beautiful piece of work. I just love it. The British are going to be mighty angry when they see what we’ve done. We’d better be far away when that happens.”

  “Nicely done, Hector,” Nola said. She turned to her grandfather. “I’m so glad you could make it, Grandpa. Let me put this blanket around you. You look cold.”