The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France

by Alfred H. Engelbach

t will be remembered that when M. de Valricour quitted France in order to return to Canada he promised the Marquis de Beaujardin that he would do his best to find Isidore, and report whatever he might learn respecting him. In those days, however, the communication between New and Old France was slow and uncertain enough, and it was not until the ensuing spring that the marquis received any tidings respecting his son. From what he then heard it could scarcely be doubted that Isidore was in Canada, and de Valricour was able to inform his brother-in-law not only that Marguerite had been a prisoner at Sorel, and had subsequently escaped through the devotion of Amoahmeh, but that Jasmin was actually a prisoner there. He was further enabled to send to the marquis the mutilated letter supposed to have been destroyed by Isidore, and this circumstance not only cleared away that imputation, but proved beyond question that Isidore had had grounds for supposing that his father had no objection to his union with Marguerite.

Full of remorse for his unjust suspicions, the marquis felt his old affection for his son revive more strongly than ever, and when he subsequently received further accounts to the effect that Isidore had gone to Fort Duquesne, but that he had not since been heard of, he could no longer restrain his ardent longing to seek out his lost son, and do him at least some tardy justice. In the first place, however, he proceeded to Paris in order that he might use all his influence to ascertain how matters stood in regard to the lettre de cachet, and, if possible, to obtain its revocation. To his astonishment he found that, through the influence of Montcalm, the king's warrant had already been cancelled; but about Isidore himself he could learn nothing, and he consequently resolved to proceed at once to Canada in search of him.

He had, however, by this time learned by experience that any plan of his might be thwarted if it once came to the ears of Madame de Valricour, and without even communicating his intentions to the marchioness, he returned home by way of Nantes, where he made arrangements for his voyage to Quebec. This was no easy matter; it was well known that the English fleet was already on its way up the St. Lawrence with General Wolfe's army to undertake the siege of Quebec, and French vessels could no longer hope to reach that place. But the marquis was prepared to pay almost any sum for the accomplishment of his object, and with the help of Jean Perigord the innkeeper he at last prevailed on a certain Maitre Duboscq to undertake the task, and endeavour at least to land the marquis as near Quebec as possible. This being settled, M. de Beaujardin proceeded home to take leave of his wife and inform her of his purpose.

He had reckoned without his host, and little knew that Madame de Valricour was well informed of all his movements. No sooner had he reached the chateau than that lady calmly informed him that she had resolved to go out and join her husband, and would feel indebted to him if he would write to Nantes and procure a passage for her.

Thoroughly convinced that the object of the voyage could only be to search out or to meet with Isidore, she felt that if she allowed the marquis to proceed alone her long cherished schemes would be wrecked at last and she resolved, come what might, to accompany him. Argument and persuasion were alike unavailing. There was nothing for it but to offer to take her out in the "Pompadour." Nor was she the only person who was destined to accompany the marquis, for on hearing of his intention old Perigord besought him with tears in his eyes to let him go too: "Monseigneur," said he, "I have served you faithfully from my cradle, do not compel me to leave yon. Let me, too, see my young master once more before I die."

It was not the first time, by a score, that Duboscq had threaded the mazy channels of the St. Lawrence, or that he had baffled the pursuit of an English cruiser. The "Pompadour" was a tight little ship, and well in hand, swift, and drawing but little water, but much caution was required, and the voyage was a long one. Passing northwards through the Straits of Belle Isle to avoid the track of the English fleet, the "Pompadour" made a splendid run up the St. Lawrence, eluding one British vessel, and fairly out-sailing another, and at last came in sight of the rugged bluffs of Cape Tourment, about a dozen leagues below Quebec. It was, however, late in the afternoon, and as there was no hope of their reaching Quebec that evening the "Pompadour" hove to, and was about to anchor for the night, when Duboscq descried an English sloop of war about a couple of miles off, right ahead and standing towards them, and he at once went below to consult with the marquis, who immediately returned with him on deck.

It was evident that they had been seen by the English sloop, and the danger was imminent. The marquis took in the situation at a glance: "The 'Pompadour' cannot escape, but we may yet do so," said he to Duboscq. "You have done your best hitherto, and I will indemnify you for the loss of your vessel. Lower your boat at once, and we may all reach the shore before the Englishman comes up. We may as well be captured on shore, if we are to see the inside of an English prison, but we may be able to make our way by land to Quebec."

The boat was soon lowered, but it would only hold three persons besides the two men required to row it; and Duboscq, as steersman, who, after landing their passengers, would have to return to fetch off the remainder of the crew. The marquis, with Madame de Valricour and Perigord, at once stepped into the boat, and as the beach was not far off, they were quickly rowed to the shore. "Now," said Duboscq, when they were fairly landed, "push on into the wood straight ahead, and I will join you there. We shall give our friends the slip after all, thanks to monsieur's suggestion."

The little party did as they were told, and presently stopped to await the coming of the others; but they waited in vain, and were destined soon to find out that they had only escaped one danger to rush upon another. From a lofty point overhanging the river an Indian scout had watched all that had occurred. Suddenly the wood rang with a terrible war-whoop, and half a dozen savages darted through the trees and came upon the panic-stricken group. The chief, who was a little in advance, sprang towards Perigord, but on perceiving that the party consisted only of two unarmed men and a woman, stopped short, making a sign to his followers to do the same. Then, contemptuously flinging old Perigord down, he snatched from him an ornamented casket which he was clutching in his hands: it was his master's strong box, which he had rescued at the last moment, and brought away with him from the ship. Wrenching it open the savage drew out the first thing that came to hand: it was the ribbon and order of St. Louis.

With an exclamation of surprise he held it up and examined it. He had seen the like once or twice before, but only on the breasts of Montcalm and Governor de Vaudreuil.