Band of Acadians. John Skelton
to leave, but Broussard stepped forward to intercede. “Step down from that animal, lad, or I’ll shoot you.”
The boy, his demeanour quickly changing from belligerence to dismay, slid off his mount, holding the reins shakily.
“We can’t have you go back to the fort and reveal our position now, can we?” Broussard said. “To you we might be rebels, but we think of ourselves as people struggling to keep land we’ve owned and worked for over a hundred years.”
Now thoroughly concerned, though still pugnacious, the boy spoke in a nervous jumble. “How is it that you have a British soldier as prisoner? What I see is that you’re a bunch of rebels. My name’s Frank, and when I was in Halifax last month, I saw your priest, Abbé Daubin, spouting all sorts of anti-British nonsense. I’m happy to say he was arrested and is in jail now.”
“I’m sure you believe you’re in the right,” Broussard said. “But these boys and girls aren’t guilty of any wrongdoing. Their priest might be, but not them. I ask you — what have these boys and girls done to deserve the brutal punishment meted out by your troops? They’ve lost their land, their way of life, and their parents. Anyway, we have a problem here, Mr. Frank. We can’t let you go back. What do you want us to do with you?”
Frank mulled over his situation. After some hesitation, he reached a decision. “I’ll tell you what. If you let me go, I’ll take an oath not to reveal your position.”
Broussard, Hector, and Grandpa considered Frank’s offer, and after much deliberation concluded that the youth appeared to be trustworthy. No one wanted to shoot him. “We’ll take your oath, lad,” Broussard said. “But don’t make us regret it.”
Frank put up his right hand. “I, Frank Lawrence, of Portsmouth, England, do hereby swear not to disclose my contact with the group of Acadians I’ve encountered on the trail today, so help me God.”
“Good enough,” Broussard said. “You may go. Be worthy of our trust, young man.”
“No!” shouted Nola. “We’ve suffered a horrible attack from this boy’s soldiers. We can’t let him go. That’s crazy.”
“I was bought up to be an honourable person,” Frank said. “When I take an oath, I honour it till death.”
Nola studied Frank skeptically. Then, gazing into his eyes, she noted his granite-hard conviction. Slowly, she felt her confidence in him grow. Perhaps he was someone who meant what he said. If he had been a soldier, she would never have believed him. “You understand that if you betray us, it would be a mortal sin?”
“I understand that, and I vow to keep my word. You can depend on my oath.”
“That’s exactly what we’ll be doing if we let you go.”
Frank and his horse were permitted to leave. He left behind a group deeply worried about whether they had made the correct judgment.
Jocelyne, her recent experience still fresh, opened several food packets with trembling fingers. A sombre Nola helped by handing out an apple to each person, including their prisoner. She prepared a pot of salted carrots, chopped turnips, cracked wheat, and leftover chicken. Because of their latest ordeal, they were afraid to light a fire, so they ate everything cold. That done they got back on the trail, fretting about what new dangers lay ahead.
Broussard had decided not join them. He would take their prisoner to what was left of his farm and have him repair his house. “I wish you all the best, but I have to go. I need to do everything I can to liberate my family. I hate to think of them suffering in jail. Remember, though, that the British are powerful, but if you’re careful and smart, I believe you can succeed. Your parents are depending on you. Good luck.”
Nola and Jocelyne were delighted to see the prisoner leave. Anger and relief flashing in her face, Nola said, “I hope Mr. Broussard works him hard. I find it difficult to forgive what he tried to do to us.”
Jocelyne shivered and nodded. “I’m glad the other two were killed. It’s awful that our Leo was slain, though.”
Early that morning they reached the coast without further incident. Hector spotted many spruce and pine trees over thirty feet high and pointed to a grove with big trunks, indicating these would be ideal for building rafts. “Smaller logs would be dangerous if we get caught in a storm.” Consulting with Grandpa, he chose which trees to cut and scoped out a trail to haul them to the shore.
The work proved exhausting. The girls hadn’t brought saws or axes able to handle such outsized lumber, and the terrain was rough. Fortunately, they had managed to carry four shallops, so they would need fewer rafts. Grandpa estimated eight rafts twenty-by-twenty feet would be sufficient. Progress making these rafts was excruciatingly slow, however. Even with an all-out effort, a day later none was ready. Frustration mingled with deep fear seeped into everyone.
“This raft building is taking far too long,” Nola said. “With all the noise we’re making, at any moment a passing patrol might hear us, and that would be it for us. Maybe we should settle for smaller logs.”
“It’s too bad we weren’t able to bring a horse or two to help us with this logging,” Grandpa said. “We had over four hundred in Grand Pré. Sadly, they’re all in British hands now.”
Exasperation turned to full-scale fright when a suspicious figure stepped into their clearing. On closer inspection the newcomer proved to be Frank Lawrence, who was carrying a large pack.
Nola confronted him. “What are you doing back here? You haven’t told the soldiers at the fort about us, have you?”
“No, I’ve honoured my oath, as I said I would. I’m here because I’ve decided to help you. The more I thought about it the more troubled I became by what’s been done to you. The man who threatened to shoot me made sense. You’re not rebels, and it’s wrong to confiscate all your property, especially with no compensation. Our government should’ve offered innocent families land elsewhere. That would’ve been the right thing to do.”
“Well, then, we’re glad to see you,” Hector said. “What do you have in that pack?”
“I figured you’d want to make rafts, so I brought some cutting tools and rope to tie logs together. I also brought some fishing gear.”
Hector rummaged through the pack. “Perfect! That’s just what we need. Now we can make real progress.”
Still dubious, Nola asked, “Who are you? All you said before was that your name’s Frank and that you come from England.” She frowned. “And why do you speak French so well?”
“My Uncle Charles is the governor of Nova Scotia. I’m sorry to say that he’s the man who gave the orders to have you deported and to plunder your property. I’m a student in England and I’m here just for the summer to ‘broaden my horizons,’ as my father puts it. I speak French because I spent many summers in Bordeaux where my family owns a vineyard.”
Nola furrowed her brow. “I suppose that means you know how to read and write?”
“Yes, I can read and write in French and English, and I have a little Spanish, as well.”
“Well, then, it would be nice if you could teach us. Our priest taught us to read a bit, but hardly at all, really. I hate that I don’t know how.”
“That isn’t the way I expected to help, but I suppose I could do that.”
“Great. Let me introduce you to the girls. I’m Nola. This is Jocelyne. Over there is Adele and Delphine.” Nola followed with a long list of names. “I’ll introduce you to the boys later when they take a break from raft building.”
“It’ll take me a while to remember all your names,” Frank said. “I’m very pleased to meet you all.”
“We’d better start using that fishing gear you brought,” Jocelyne said. “There isn’t much food for dinner, I’m afraid.”
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