PORT LATOUR AND BURCHTOWN.
Even this early I clearly saw that to walk all the coast line between Yarmouth and Halifax could not be done at my leisurely three miles or less per hour. It is three miles when no pictures intervene or no friendly Nova Scotian comes along with a ghost story or tale of the seas: Under such circumstances time is not of the essence of the contract.
It was necessary to visit Port Latour, as here were the ruins of an old fort to be photographed, and when I saw “Livery Stable” writ large across a Barrington barn, there came the thought that this was a Heaven sent opportunity to economize time, the twenty miles to Port Latour and back could be more easily accomplished and abundant time remain for the visit. But no one was about the stable. A call on a neighboring house elicited the information that the livery man was driving a commercial individual to some far hamlet, while his chief and only understudy was employed in like manner in another direction. Finally a man was found on the road who thought he could harness the one horse left, but when it came to a conveyance he hesitated. Of the two on hand one was new and undefiled, the other freshly painted, so he suggested that I take his open wagon, as mud could not harm it, and the horse was led to his barn, where the operation of hitching up was completed. No credentials on my part appeared to be necessary, not even my name was asked, nor did I ask the price until evening came, when I learned that the charge was $1.50 for the day.
The road follows the shore of Barrington Bay as far as Villagedale (formerly Solid Rock), then crosses to the eastern side of the point where reposes Port Latour. The morning was full of sunshine, the spruces and hemlocks made strong shadows against the high lights of the sun illumined landscape, while many pleasant views over Barrington Bay charmed the hours away.
Solid Rock (not the village, but the rock) is possibly two-thirds of the ten miles to Port Latour, and must be inquired for to be found, as the spot lies on the shore a quarter mile from the road and across a farm. It is merely a group of unusually large granite boulders against which the waves break, the surroundings are extremely beautiful and a rugged lane that covers part of the distance is captivating in its primitive simplicity. In itself it was worth the entire trip. Words would be a mere catalogue of its component parts; they cannot describe it as it appeared on that brilliant afternoon when the depths of the hemlock shadows were almost black.
My acquaintance with the Latour House is confined to a dinner, and I know not what the rooms are like. But I know what the people are like and that, with the dinner to back them, is enough. William B. Crowell, the proprietor, unharnessed my horse, put him in the stable and gave him a feed of hay, and when I wished to return walked a long quarter mile from his boatshop to harness up, and all he wanted was ten cents for the hay. I only had five cents and a quarter; he had no change, and positively refusing the quarter, accepted the smaller coin perfectly satisfied that he had done the proper thing, and his wife who runs the house may still be his better half. Her chicken dinner was good right down to the last mouthful, the charge was but thirty-five cents, and I could not force a half dollar on her.
A pleasant, friendly, unmercenary spirit seems to be the usual thing throughout this coast region of Nova Scotia.
This village is charmingly simple, inhabited by a race of sailormen with whom it is not difficult to become acquainted, the Atlantic coast is at the door, and I have no doubt but that a week here would pass as a puff of steam on a dry day.
Now for our history. Claude Turgis de Sainte Etienne, Sieur de la Tour and his son Charles de la Tour left France in 1606, when the son was fourteen years of age, to mend their fortunes in the new world. After one Argal ravaged these coasts in 1613 and destroyed the French settlements, Charles attached himself to one Biencourt and lived with him among the Indians. Biencourt, when dying, bequeathed to Charles his rights in Port Royal (now Annapolis), and named him as successor in command. This is 1623.
During the next four years Charles lived in Fort Saint Louis at Cape Sable on a harbor called Port Lomeron (or L’Omeroy), now Port Latour. About 1625-6 Charles wrote to Louis XIII., asking to be appointed commandant in all the coasts of Acadie. This letter was intrusted to the father, Claude, who started for France, but on the way was captured and carried to England. Claude was a Huguenot, and in London met others of like faith. These persuaded him to renounce France and take up the cause of England. He married an English woman, was made a Baronet of Nova Scotia, receiving a like honor for his son, and engaged to deliver to England Fort Saint Louis, then being held by Charles for France. With this object in view two men-of-war were fitted out for him, and with his wife he turned his face toward the new world once more.
Arriving (1627) Claude landed and presented his case to the son in the full assurance that the latter would promptly accept the situation and the new honors which would flow therefrom, but Charles seems to have been only half La Tour, the other half, much the better, probably represented his mother, and he confounded his father with the following melodramatic effusion:—
“If those who sent you on this errand think me capable of betraying my country, even at the solicitation of a parent, they have greatly mistaken me. I am not disposed to purchase the honors now offered me by committing a crime. I do not undervalue the proffer of the King of England; but the Prince in whose service I am is quite able to reward me; and whether he does so or not, the inward consciousness of my fidelity to him will be in itself a recompense to me. The King of France has confided the defense of this place to me. I shall maintain it, if attacked, till my latest breath.”
Claude then threatened the obstinate boy and finally attacked the fort, but Charles defended his post with such success that the English commanding officer, who had not counted on resistance, having lost several of his best soldiers, informed Claude that he would abandon the siege.
William E. Smith of Port Latour, whose ancestors have dwelt here for many generations, told me that an older member of the family who died some years ago, and who knew much of the early history of the region, had stated that Claude La Tour at first attacked the fort from his ships, and being unsuccessful in this, sailed around into Barrington Bay, where he landed his men at or near Solid Rock, and marched them across to attack the fort in the rear.
A small, swampy strip immediately north of the fort is said to have been caused by the digging of a trench in which those who fell in the battle were buried.
Claude was placed in a most embarrassing position. He could not well return to England, much less to France. He had no money or men, and the only course left to him was to appeal to his son’s clemency. He presented the situation to his wife and suggested that she return to England, but she preferred to accept what might come to her husband. Claude then applied to his son for permission to live in Acadie, which appears to have been readily granted, but it was stipulated that neither he nor his wife were to come into the fort, though Charles gave his word that neither should want for anything.
The terms were hard, but there was no alternative and, with the permission of the English commander, Claude and his wife and servants disembarked with all their belongings and the two vessels returned to England. Charles caused a suitable house to be erected at some distance from the fort and took care of their maintenance. M. Denys relates that he found them there in 1635, and that they were well off.
The story seems to have been patched together from several accounts of the settlements along this coast which differ in some details. One account states that after the battle Claude sailed to Port Royal and came back later at the invitation of Charles, who hoped to persuade his father to break his alliance with England and tell what he knew of the condition of the English. And, having now no great expectations from his adopted country, Claude accepted the invitation and told Charles that the English were preparing to capture his fort. On this the La Tours and other Frenchmen took council among themselves and decided to form a settlement at the mouth of the St. John River, Claude to command there and Charles to continue at his old post.
At the time of the expulsion, 1755, the fort was destroyed and the village wiped out. And to-day nothing remains but a few grass grown mounds. These have been excavated to some extent, but nothing was found beyond a few clay pipes and other matters of small moment. Those of the Acadians who wandered back after the expulsion are said to have established themselves in Pubnico.
That my time should be used to the best advantage, a train was taken at Barrington for Burchtown, originally a settlement of colored people who escaped into the English lines in New York during the Revolution. This lies some seven miles west of Shelburne; these miles are chiefly through woods, much of which has been desolated by forest fires, and looks as forlorn as a tramp attempting to shut out the winter winds with a covering of newspapers. It was a pleasant change to come out on the Roseway River, even though this meant sawmills, which are eating the heart out of the woodlands.