THE PARSON AMONG THE PHILISTINES.
A map of this part of America, in this year, 1743, would show a very
different scene from that which is presented by one of the present
date. The country held by the English did not reach beyond the
Kennebec, although claimed by them. But north of this river it was
all in the virtual possession of the French, and on the map it was
distinguished by the French colors. A line drawn from the mouth of
the Penobscot, due north, to the River St. Lawrence, divided New
England from the equally extensive territory of New Scotland, or Nova
Scotia. This New England was bordered on the east by Nova Scotia, on
the north by the River St. Lawrence, and on the west by the province
of New York. But in New England the French colors prevailed over
quite one half of this territory; and in Nova Scotia, though all was
claimed by the English, every part was actually held by the French,
except one or two points of a most unimportant character.
Looking over such a map, we perceive the present characteristics all
gone, and a vast wilderness, full of roaming tribes of Indians,
filling the scene. North of Boston there are a few towns; but beyond
the little town of Falmouth, the English settlements are all called
Fort this and Fort that. Up the valley of the Kennebec is the mark of
a road to Quebec; and about half way, at the head waters of the
Kennebec, a point is marked on the map with these words: "_Indian and
French rendezvous. Extremely proper for a fort, which mould restrain
the French and curb the Abenakki Indians_." And also: "_From Quebec
to Kennebek River mouth, not much above half way to Boston, and one
third to New York, thence by that R. and ye Chaudiere ye road to
Canada is short_."
North of the St. Lawrence is a vast country, which is called New
France. As Old France and Old England struggle for the supremacy in
the old world, so New France and New England struggle for the
supremacy in the new world, and the bone of contention is this very
district alluded to,--this border-ground,--called by the French
L'Acadie, but claimed by the English as Nova Scotia, which bordered
both on New England and New France.
This debatable territory on the map is full of vast waste spaces,
together with the names of savage tribes never heard of before or
since, some of which are familiar names, merely spelled in an unusual
manner, while others owe their origin, perhaps, to the imagination of
the map-maker or his informant. Thus, for example, we have Massasuk,
Arusegenticook, Saga Dahok, and others of equally singular sound.
In this debatable territory are numerous forts, both French and
English. These are situated, for the most part, in the valleys of
rivers, for the very good reason that these valleys afford the best
places for settlement, and also for the further reason that they are
generally used as the most convenient routes of travel by those who
go by land from one post to another. These forts are numerous on the
west of New England; they also stud the map in various places towards
the north. The valley of the St. John, in Nova Scotia, is marked by
several of these. Farther on, the important isthmus which connects
the peninsula of Nova Scotia with the main land is protected by the
strong post called Fort Beausejour.
In this peninsula of Nova Scotia, various settlements are marked. One
is named Minas, which is also known as Grand Pre, a large and
important community, situated in one of the most beautiful and
fertile valleys in America. In the neighborhood of this are a half
dozen points, marked with the general name of French settlements,
while the vacant places between and beyond are marked with the name
Mic Macs, which is the title of the Indians who inhabit Nova Scotia.
One post here, however, possesses a singular interest in the eyes of
the good people of Boston. It is marked on the map by the name of
Annapolis, once the French Port Royal, but now the only English post
of any consequence in all Nova Scotia. Here resides the handful of
Englishmen who claim to rule the province. But the government is a
mockery, and the French set it at defiance. If England wishes to
assert her power here, she must have a far different force in the
country from the handful of ragged and ill-armed soldiers who mount
guard on the tumble-down forts at Annapolis.
Beyond all these, at the extreme east of the peninsula, is an island
called by the French Ile Royale, and by the English Cape Breton. This
is held by the French. Here is their greatest stronghold in America,
except Quebec, and one, too, which is regarded by Boston with greater
jealousy and dread than the latter, since it is actually nearer, is
open winter and summer, and can strike a more immediate blow.
This was the extreme eastern outpost of French power in America. Here
the French colonies reached out their arms to the mother country.
Here began that great chain of fortresses, which ran up the valleys
of navigable rivers, and connected with the great fortress of Quebec
the almost impregnable outpost of Ticonderoga, and the posts of
Montreal Island. From these the chain of military occupation extended
itself towards the south, through the valleys of the Ohio and the
Mississippi, until they were connected with the flourishing colony at
New Orleans.
Thus it was, and with these advantages, that the French engaged in
the great and momentous conflict with the English for the possession
of America, and on the side of the former were the greater part of
the wild and warlike Indians.
And now let us return to our friend Zac, who for some time has been
lost sight of.
When the Aigle came to anchor, the schooner did the same, and lay
under her guns some miles out from the shore. Zac had been allowed a
certain amount of freedom, for, as the lieutenant had promised, his
hands had not been bound. The same liberty was allowed to the others
on board. Six French seamen were on board, who navigated the
schooner, and acted as her guard. These were armed, while Zac and his
friends were all unarmed. While sailing up the bay this guard was
hardly necessary, as the schooner was under the guns of the frigate;
but afterwards the necessity was more apparent.
The Aigle could not wait at Grand Pre longer than was requisite to
land those who were going ashore. The boat that landed these brought
back a half dozen Acadians from Grand Pre, whom it left on board the
schooner. Then, taking back again her own seamen, the Aigle spread
her white wings and sailed away for _La Belle France_.
Zac saw this change in affairs with varied feelings. First of all, he
had half hoped that he might be let off, after all; partly because it
was not a time of formal war, and partly because the schooner had
saved some important lives, and therefore, at the very least, ought
to be let off. But this change in her masters dispelled Zac's hope,
and made him see that there was not at all any prospect of an
immediate release. From that moment Zac gave up all hope of any
release whatever, and began to see that, if escape were to be made,
it must be effected by his own skill and daring.
The new comers seemed willing to maintain the old state of things,
and showed no inclination to keep their prisoners in bonds. They were
a good-natured lot, with simple, unsophisticated faces, and looked
with amiable smiles upon the schooner and its company. Still, they
were all stout, able-bodied fellows, and all were armed. The leader
was a man of about forty, who seemed to be regarded by the rest with
considerable respect. He was also able to speak a few words of
English. They contented themselves with keeping a general lookout
over the schooner and its crew, and taking turns at the night watch.
In fact, the simple confidence of the Acadians in the security of
their guard seemed to be justified by circumstances. These six stout
men wore armed; Zac and his followers were unarmed. All the floating
craft in the Basin belonged to the Acadians, and all the settlements.
For Zac to escape by water was scarcely possible, and to get off by
land was not to be thought of. The nearest English settlement was
many miles away, and to reach it he would have to run the gantlet of
a population of French and Indians.
Day after day passed, and Zac spent most of the time in meditating
over his situation and keeping his eyes and ears on the alert. He
understood pretty well that to the villany of Cazeneau were due both
his own captivity and the more serious danger which threatened his
friend. It was from Margot that he had first heard of Cazeneau as an
enemy, and little more had he been able to find out beyond what she
had told him in the brief conversation already related. The illness
of Laborde had necessitated her attendance on her master and
mistress, and prevented any further confidences. Only a few
occasional greetings were possible after that. Then followed the
arrival of the Aigle, and the transfer of Margot, with the rest, to
the French frigate. Zac had consequently been left in the dark as to
the particular villany of Cazeneau towards Laborde and Mimi. But he
had seen enough and felt enough to be sure that his enmity, from
whatever cause it arose, was of no common kind, that Claude was in
great danger, and that he himself was involved in the same peril,
though to a less degree. This conviction served, therefore, to keep
his mind continually on the alert, so as to find out what was the
present situation of Claude, and also to devise and lay hold of some
plan of action for himself.
In his thoughts the good Pere Michel was suggested as the only one
who could do anything for either of them. What his influence might
be, he could not guess; but he at least believed in his friendliness
and good faith, and he could not help feeling that the priest would
do all that was possible. It seemed to him not unlikely that the
priest might come out to see him, and convey to him some information
about the present state of affairs in Grand Pre. And besides this, he
could not help feeling a vague hope that, even if the priest were
unable to do anything, he might receive some sort of a message from
one whom he could not help as regarding in the light of a
friend--namely, the amiable Margot.
The situation had been accepted by the rest of the ship's company
without any great display of emotion. Biler's melancholy remained
unchanged, and still, as of yore, he passed much of his time at the
mast-head, contemplating the universe, and eating raw turnips.
Jericho remained as busy as ever, and cared for his pots, and his
kettles, and his pans, without apparently being conscious that his
master was a slave now, as well as himself. Upon Terry, also, the
yoke of captivity lay but lightly. It was not in the nature of Terry
to be downcast or sullen; and the simple expedients which had led him
to fraternize with the shipwrecked sailors had afterwards enabled him
to fraternize equally well with the crew of the Aigle that had been
put on board. These had gone, and it remained now for him to come to
an understanding with the Acadians. Constant practice had made him
more capable, and, in addition to his own natural advantages, he had
also learned a few French words, of which he made constant use in the
most efficient way. The Acadians responded to Terry's advances quite
as readily as any of the others had done; and before they had been on
board one day they were all singing and laughing with the merry Irish
lad, and going into fits of uproarious mirth at Terry's incessant use
of the few French words which he had learned; for it was Terry's
delight to stop each one of them, and insist on shaking hands,
whenever he met them, saying at the same time, with all the gravity
in the world,--
"_Commy voo party voo, bong tong. Bon jure, moosoo_!"
Thus nearly a week passed, and during all that time Zac had heard
nothing about the fate of his friends ashore. Neither the priest nor
Margot sent him any message whatever. The Acadians themselves did not
hold any communication with the shore, but remained on board quite
placidly, in a state of calm content--as placidly, indeed, as though
they had been living on board the Parson all their lives.
During all the time Zac had been meditating over his situation, and
trying to see his way out of it. At length a ray of light began to
dawn into his mind, which illuminated his present position, and
opened up to him a way of action. One day after dinner, while the
Acadians were lolling in the sun, and while Terry was smoking his
pipe forward, Zac sauntered up to him in a careless fashion, and
placing himself near Terry, where he could not be overheard, he began
to talk in an easy tone with the other,
"Terry, lad," said he, "I'm getting tired o' this here."
"Faix, an' it's mesilf that's been waitin' to hear ye say that same
for a week an' more--so it is."
[Illustration: "I Think We Can Manage To Get The Schooner From These
Chaps."]
"Wal, ye see, I ben a turnin' it over in my mind, and hain't
altogether seen my way clear afore; but now it seems to me as how
it's a burnin' shame to stand this here any longer."
"Thrue for you; an' so it is," said Terry. "An' so, ef ye've got
anythin' on yer mind that ye want to do, why, out with it, for I'm
your man."
"Wal, ye see," resumed Zac, "it's this here; I don't want to go away
out o' this jest yet."
"Not go away! Tare an ages," cried Terry; "d'ye want to be a
prisoner?"
"Course not. I mean this: I don't want to go an' leave my friend
here, Motier, in the hands of the Philistines."
"Sure ye can't do anythin' for him; an' he's among his own kin--so he
is; for he jabbers French ayqual to the best of thim."
"No, I can't do anything for him as I am; that's a fact; and so I'm
bound to put myself in a position whar I can do somethin'; that is,
I'm bound to seize this here schewner, an' bring the old Parson back
to the fold."
"Arrah, sure, an' that's the right sort of talk--so it is; an' it's
mesilf that's glad to hear ye. An' so, what is it, captain dear? Out
with it. Tell me what yer plan is, an' I'm wid ye--so I am."
"I think, Terry, that we can manage to get the schewner from these
chaps--can't we?"
"Sure we can. Sure, an' I'd ingage to do it alone, almost."
"They don't watch much."
"Not a bit of it."
"The two that watch at night sleep half the time."
"Sure, an' that's thrue for you, for I've seed thim at it whin I was
asleep mesilf."
"We can git Jericho to bar down the cabin door, Terry, an' then you
an' I can seize the two on deck."
"Aisy enough--so it is. They'll all be dead asleep--so they will."
"Wal, thar we'll have them; an' then I hope to be able to bring a
pressure on the natyves of these regions by which I may git my friend
out of their clutches."
"Sure, an' I don't onderstand ye at all, at all."
"Why, I'll have these six Acadians prisoners, an' then I'll sail up
off Grand Pre, an' threaten to cut the throats of all of them if they
don't send off Motier to me in ten minutes."
"Tare an' ages!" cried Terry. "Whoroo! but isn't that the plan? It
is. It bates the wurruld--so it does. An whin'll ye begin, captain
darlint?"
"To-night," said Zac.