younger sister. He hadn’t spoken to her since his departure, back when he was desperately trying to find some clues to his fiancée’s disappearance. He knocked on her door. She threw herself into his arms, as innocent and pure as the Emilie he had loved. They went for a walk on the ramparts by Château St. Louis overlooking the river, and talked at length. Cristel finally made up her mind. “I have something for you,” she said.
She pulled a small package from her coat pocket and handed it to Joseph. He opened it and was rendered speechless by what he found inside: a letter and a portrait of Emilie. His whole body began to tremble.
From Nantes, Emilie had learned that Joseph was still alive, but just as she was getting ready to come home, she received other news from a ship that had stopped off at Ruisseau, news that Joseph had a wife and child. Silently, Joseph reread parts of the letter, “I dont want to spoil your happiness… A rich merchant from Jersey is looking after me… looking after me… after me… slowly I’m regaining the will to live.” Emilie! Her name crashing in on him to the beat of the current beneath the cape: Emilie, a name whose power he could do nothing to neutralize. He fell into what felt like a drunken stupour, as though the air of Ile d’Orléans – or Ile de Bacchus as it was sometimes called because of its vineyards -had been fermented with all the wine on earth. Cristel tried to distract him, “Look at the fires over there on Ile aux Sorciers. That’s the other name for Ile d’Orléans because of all the fires the inhabitants light at night.”
Joseph felt like his brain itself was on fire. For the longest time, he stood on the ramparts contemplating Emilie’s portrait by the light of the fires’ flames. For the longest time, he stood transfixed, caught between the stranglehold of heaven and earth, the river and the cape, as though in a dream. When the distant fires went out, and the drunken stupor evaporated, and the current fell with the receding tide, he knew he had a choice to make.
“I’m dying to go after her,” he confessed.
“You mustn’t, my friend. You’re happy at home with your new family. You will forget her. Emilie still loves you, but she has to follow her destiny now.”
Deep down, he knew Cristel was right. Emilie’s letter only confirmed that fact.
* * *
The Phantom Ship set sail the next day for Acadia and Ruisseau. Jean-Baptiste did not ask Joseph any questions since his culture taught that another’s silence was to be respected. Jean-Baptiste’s thoughts, too, were elsewhere; he was counting the profits from the sale of his cod. As for Membertou, he could feel Joseph’s distress, and it saddened him because the boy had learned to love the man thanks to the strong bonds they had formed during their voyage.
1. Of which Cartier said, “…there is the city and the domicile of Seigneur Donacona, which domicile is called Stadaconé.”
2. The Golden Dog, a carving dated 1661, decorated the front of the inn. A historical novel on the period covering the War of the Conquest, written by William Kirby, takes the name The Golden Dog (Le Chien d’Or) as its title. It is published by Stanké.
3. One ecu was the equivalent of five francs.
Chapter 9
Vice reigns supreme within the colonies. The governors, district Intendants and ordnance officers sent to govern there are thoroughly convinced that their purpose is none other than to make their fortune and so they behave accordingly, thus ruining trade and serving as a huge obstacle to any progress in the colonies.
– Michel Le Courtois de Surlaville, Vice-Governor of Isle Royale
Josette was born on March 23, 1744 in Ruisseau. A joyful Joseph danced passionately at Pointe-de-Roche, rediscovered the violin, and cared tenderly for Angélique, who had had another long and painful delivery. But, after a few months, he tired of playing nursemaid, and was bitten once more by the travel and adventure bug. His was the age-old story of a man who wants a large family but lacks the patience to look after it! Angélique knew there was no point trying to hold him back. She loved him too much to suffocate him, and the possibility of his earning a few ecus in Louisbourg, where there was a labour shortage, made it easier for her to accept his hasty departure. Membertou’s reaction was another story. Not wanting to let his chagrin show, he took refuge in a world of fantasy, where he daydreamed of the treasure in the cave. As for Jean-Baptiste, his way of dealing with Joseph’s departure was to focus on tending to the schooner, which offered the promise of profitable catches and an abundance of gold Louis. Saint-Jean did not approve of Josephs going, but he did not feel he was in a position to teach Joseph right from wrong, for he was made from the same cloth as Joseph. So Joseph boarded the Licorne, a ship that arrived from Quebec loaded down with provisions for the Louisbourg fortress. On board, he met Nicolas Gauthier, one of Port Royal’s wealthiest merchants, who made clandestine supply trips to Louisbourg. Gauthier operated stores, flour mills, sawmills, and schooners with which he plied his trade as far away as the West Indies.
“People on Isle Royale have nothing but oysters and seafood left to eat,” he told Joseph.
“What happened?”
“The soil there is no good for agriculture. They’re obliged to rely on assistance from Quebec, Port-Royal, or the mother country. Last year, the harvest was bad because of the heat waves, blight, and pests, which did extensive damage to the crops. Then almost all the cured and dried cod was sent to Paris and the West Indies. As for the New England colonies, they can’t supply us with goods because they, too, were hit by the drought.”
“So the English from Boston sell their goods to you?” Joseph exclaimed.
“That surprises you? There’s no point beating about the bush: in peacetime there are more boats from the English colonies in Louisbourg than French ships. In wartime, it’s more of the same,” Gauthier said ironically. “The King of France prohibits trade with the English but, when the French ships don’t bring us what we need, the authorities look the other way and we turn to those who have what we can’t find elsewhere! They make a pretty profit while they’re at it. And, just between you and me, the Boston market is a lot closer anyway,” he explained.
Joseph felt as though he had a great deal to learn about Louisbourg. Gauthier continued, “France did send three supply ships, but one of the ships sank in the ice. What’s more, a number of barrels of flour were underweight, and others were either too damp or contained an assortment of grains. It’s the same thing every year, not that it matters as much when the harvest is good in Canada. When we’re in a bad way, usually the Basques who fish for cod off Isle Royale sell us seabiscuits and pork fat, at outrageous prices, of course. But with a war looming, we don’t know if they’ll be back.”
“If I understand correctly, Louisbourg’s inhabitants are eager for the goods you bring them… What are you transporting?”
“Hundredweights of fine and whole wheat flour, hogsheads of buckwheat and wheat. I also bought livestock in Quebec as well as wine, cider, cognac… I forget how many barrels worth… and other luxuries for the well-to-do: almonds, soap, clothes, sheets, silk goods, shoes. Yet it’s not nearly enough!”
“If Louisbourg is like Quebec, I imagine the authorities make sure their palms are greased in the process.”
“Dear man, it’s worse than that. Some officers are getting rich on the back of the king and the troops. The ordnance officer and the governor are involved, too. Not only are the soldiers’ rations cut back, but tools and material that were supposed to be used to repair the fortress are being sold off in Boston.”
“Can’t you lodge a complaint?”
“What can a lowly soldier or merchant do when faced with an officer