Nova Scotia stretches 500 kilometres on a southwest-northeast axis from Cape Sable to Cape North, the shape of the province is often compared to that native delicacy, the lobster, with Cape Breton Island representing the outstretched claws, preparing to nip unsuspecting Newfoundland across the Cabot Strait.
The coastline of the uplands region is deeply indented, forming many good harbours, some of which are considered outstanding. Hundreds of islands dot the landscape along the entire Atlantic coast, most notably at St. Margarets Bay and Mahone Bay. Reefs and shoals abound, accounting for the many lighthouses erected along this coast. In many ways the Atlantic uplands coast epitomizes the North Atlantic coastline with its bare granite sheets plunging headlong into the raging surf to produce an awesome cataclysm between land and sea. When people think of Nova Scotia, they usually envisage the rocky granite shores of the uplands. This shirt belonged to Aeneas
Again the three men at the board head consulted in whispers.
“This is also very strange,” said the governor. “Why did you not sail to old France or to the government of Cape Breton?”
“It was not for want of effort,” said the Frenchman. “I approached the master of every vessel in the port of Quebec. I offered them gold and one or two jewels of some value which I still retained. It was in vain. Not one would receive me on board. You perceive, M. le Gouverneur, the plot of which I am the victim. I was to be banished to the wilderness forever. It must have been some Great One who could command the governor of Canada, for the governor plainly had his orders, and he controlled every shipmaster in the colony. The Great One having taken a dislike to me was resolved that I should never see France again.”
“But why,” said the governor, still suspicious, “did you presume to come to this or any English settlement without a passport?”
A faint tinge of answering blood rose in the prisoner’s thin cheeks, but his voice was unshaken.
As I have said, M. le Gouverneur, I come from a family of good repute in France. Mt father is of the noblesse, a chevalier of Blois. It is not for a man of my blood to submit tamely to such wrongs-to be imprisoned like a malefactor, to be banished from my country; and I was resolved to run all risks in order to reach France again and sue for justice. When I found that it was impossible to leave Quebec with the governor’s permission, I cast about for means to escape without it. One day at the Chateau Saint Louis, a baptized savage came to pay his respects to the governor. He had been educated in a mission and spoke French well. Some priest, remembering his Virgil, had christened him Aeneas. “Multum ille et terries jactatus et alto,” as we say at Saint Omer. He was an old, experienced warrior, who had often been on raids against the English. After the audience was ended, I sought him out. He was in a camp outside the lower town, by the riverside. I sounded him cautiously to find whether he would aid me to escape. He told me of a long way to other French plantations, a long way up and down various rivers, and through forests only inhabited by wild beasts and wild men. I then sought out the other two gentlemen, who have been arrested with me-M. Poupart de Babour and M. Saint Joli de Pardeithan-and they agreed eagerly to escape if possible. Among us we made up the sum Aeneas demanded for acting as guide. There was some delay after the bargain was completed, for Aeneas had to make a canoe large enough to carry five persons. He had to take his nephew, a young brave, along to aid him; he could not manage the canoe by himself.
“On the night of the 28th of August, there being no moon, we met Aeneas when the tide served at his camp outside the lower town. I had got pistols and a musket; M. de Pardeithan, had is hanger only, while M. de Babour bought a fowling-piece. We took with us also three blankets, some pork and biscuits, and a small case bottle of brandy. Our powder horns and shot pouches were filled before starting, and we carried a small reserve of powder in a water-tight canister. Before embarking, Aeneas insisted on payment of the thirty pistoles agreed upon, and I told them into his hand. He bit each piece and then put it into a belt round his middle. The ebb aiding us, we paddled down the river about ten leagues to the mouth of a river on the south bank, called the riviere du Sud, which we reached before daylight. We lay in the woods all that day, rested, ate, and slept. The following night we traveled up this stream for perhaps ten leagues more. Here we carried the canoe and our belongings three leagues through the woods over a well-worn Indian trail, and launched on a river called by Aeneas, Woolstock, but a priest we met in the village called it riviere Saint Jean.”
“At first all went well. The weather was divine. There were no midges or noxious insects. Our progress was ever downstream. There were few rapids and, consequently, few portages. Aeneas and his nephew caught eels and sea trout and shot partridges and ducks for the pot-a-feu. They knew where to halt foe the night at the good camping places, near springs of water. Monsieur has seen the riviere Saint Jean?”
The governor shook his head.
“In my campaigns,” the prisoner continued. I have seen the rivers of France and I have seen the Rhine, but I have never beheld the equal of this stream. I have talked with M. de Pardeithan, who has traversed the Mississippi, the Ohio, and the River of Canada, also in canoe. He had never seen anything so beautiful, though in the River of Canada there is a great lake with many islands-a thousand, he said-which is enchanting. Figure to yourself, monsieur, long, smooth reaches broadening into placid lakes, now flat terraces near the mouths of the tributary streams, some twenty-five toises in height. The river banks and the distant hills on either hand were like fires of yellow and crimson, for, as you know, autumn in this country turns the leaves to marvelous hues. And the skies-of such height! Such blueness! Only the nights were cold and grew even colder.
“The Indians talked much of a great village and fort on this river, called Meductec, which were continually approaching. We had reached a camping ground about fifty leagues above this settlement on the 10th of September. For some days, we had noticed a change in the demeanour of the two Indians; they were growing careless and insolent, slow to answer if one of us spoke to them, and always consulting together in their own tongue. From some words M. de Pardeithan overheard, it appeared that they had formed the design of stealing away in the canoe and abandoning us in the wilderness, where, without such guides, we must have perished with hunger. They were weary of convoying us and acting as our servants; they had received their payment. That afternoon, when we halted to camp and the Indians were fishing, we became convinced of their treachery, and we resolved to seize the canoe at dawn.
“That night we slept little. Each of us watched in turn while pretending to sleep, and waked the others so quietly that the Indians did not observe our stratagem. Just as the first light broke in the east, I roused my two comrades cautiously. We had scarcely risen to our feet when the Indians sprang up also, perceiving our design. There was a scuffle. The young brave, being the most nimble, leaped on M. de Pardeithan and bore him to the ground. Aeneas dropped one knee and leveled his piece. I fired my pistol at him as he pulled the trigger. I felt his bullet whistle past my ear, but he fell face downward. M. de Babour, seeing the other Indian about to stab our friend clapped the fowling-piece to his ear and shot him dead.
“It was all over in a few moments of time. Aeneas lay groaning on the ground, but beyond seeing or feeling. The young braves head was a blackened mass of blood and brains and smoldering hair. M. de Pardeithan rose to his feet slowly, and we three stood there, speechless, breathing heavily, in the dim morning light beside the dead campfire, with the bodies of our enemies at our feet.
“That M. le Gouverneur is the truth concerning this slaying, on the faith of a Christian.”
“What did you do then?”
“In a few minutes the groans of Aeneas ceased, but we remained where we stood, without moving, in the midst of a great silence. Then someone laughed loud and long, like an overwrought woman, who will presently weep and shriek. It was M. de Babour, who is a mere boy. He was staring like a madman at the young brave’s head-one eye had been blown out of its socket, and lay by itself on the grass-and he was laughing, laughing. It was an hour before we could quiet him.
“As soon as we recovered our wits, we put all the gear of the dead Indians in the canoe and stripped them mother naked. This shirt belonged to Aeneas; this hole was made by my bullet. Then we carried the bodies in to the forest about two hundred yards, and scraped a shallow trench with our knives and our hands. I made a little cross of twigs to lie on the breast of each, for, though savages, they were christened men. Then we covered them over with earth and concealed with leaves and brushwood as well as we could. It would not, we knew, mislead any Indian who followed in our track, but we could not leave the corpses where they fell. The sun was at noon before we had finished our task and had left, I hope forever, that accursed spot.