Soon I will have to tell you how these same Acadians, because of their continued treachery to the English Government, had to be transported from this land of their birth or adoption. A great deal has been written about the poor Acadians to excite our sympathy for them at the fate which shortly awaited them. You will see that they brought it upon themselves, or rather that their leaders and ill-advisers brought it upon them. Perfectly happy and contented were they under English rule, but base priests and agitators amongst them tried hard to instil into their minds the idea of a grievance and stirred up treachery and disaffection in their hearts. Bitterest and most unscrupulous of these agitators was a priest named Le Loutre. Although an able man, he was a terrible coward, and shrank from no crime, no falsehood, to gain his ends. Of Le Loutre and the results of his policy we will speak hereafter.
The English prisoners taken at Canso spent many weeks shut up in Louisburg. They did not wholly idle away their time, but, examining all they saw with such care and to such purpose, they were able on regaining their freedom to describe with accuracy the plan and condition of this great fortress. Once a French officer had said that Louisburg was so strong that it might be held against any assault by an army of women. Yet these English prisoners thought they saw how Louisburg might be taken, and their hopes were eagerly seized upon and shared by the Governor of Massachusetts.
Governor William Shirley was a lawyer by profession, full of energy and enterprise, and once he had set his mind to do a thing, difficulties seemed to fade away. He now set his mind to the capture of Louisburg. He believed that unless the English had control of the whole coast from Cape Sable to the mouth of the St. Lawrence, the safety, nay, the very existence of New England was in constant jeopardy. Shirley listened eagerly to what the returned prisoners had to tell him. They had observed the discontent and the bad discipline of the Louisburg garrison, which consisted of 1300 men. Their plan of the fort showed him that it was built on a point of land jutting out into the Atlantic, while all behind it on the land side was treacherous marsh. From 30 to 36 feet high were the walls on the other side of a ditch 80 feet wide. One hundred and sixty-four guns were mounted on the walls, besides many mortars and cohorns. On a little island opposite Louisburg there was a battery mounted with thirty-two heavy cannon. The ramparts were, however, seen to be defective in more than one place, and, besides this, if the French ships which came over sea with provisions and reinforcements could be intercepted, Shirley felt there was a fair chance of success. He wrote instantly to London asking King George to help him with ships, but without waiting for a reply a little fleet was raised and a land force of 4000 men hastily got together. It was not a very imposing army in appearance, as you may imagine. It was chiefly composed of artisans, farmers, fishermen, and labourers, commanded by a merchant named William Pepperell. Although without any military experience, Pepperell had courage and good judgment, and was anxious to distinguish himself. On the 24th March 1745 the ships left Boston, and reached Canso ten days later. Here they remained three weeks, waiting for the ice to melt in the bays and harbours. It was at Canso that Pepperell and his brave New Englanders were joined by the English commodore, Warren, whom King George had sent to help him in the capture of Louisburg. Instantly Pepperell and his army set off, while Warren cruised about with a fleet of ten ships to prevent any news or assistance from reaching the fortress.
The Governor of Louisburg was M. Duchambon. On the fateful night a ball was given in the town, which the Governor, his officers, and soldiers attended. Before the people had got to sleep it was almost dawn, and their slumbers were quickly disturbed. A captain, attired in his night-clothes, came rushing into the Governor's chamber to report that a strange fleet had been sighted by the sentries entering Gabarus Bay, five miles distant. "French ships?" cried Duchambon. "No, sir," answered the officer, "I fear the English are upon us." Next moment the cannons were booming loudly from the walls and a peal of bells rang through the town. Pepperell made a pretence of landing his troops at a certain point, so as to deceive the French. A skirmish took place, in which the French were beaten back and some of them taken prisoners. Before nightfall 2000 of the New Englanders had planted foot on the shore, and the next day they were joined by the rest of their comrades. The siege of Louisburg was begun. A hard and dangerous task was the landing of the artillery and stores, owing to the rolling surf. There being no wharf, the men had to wade through the sea to bring the guns, ammunition, and provisions on shore. This alone took an entire fortnight. Batteries were thrown up, in spite of sallies made from the town by French and Indians to prevent them. An outside battery was captured, mounted with twenty-eight heavy guns, which now belched forth shot and shell amongst the besieged. Warehouses and other places took fire, and great columns of smoke hid the fort from view for days at a time. The walls were at last seen to crumble, and when the guns of the Americans began to close up on the fortress, Duchambon was summoned to surrender. He replied that he would surrender when forced to by the cannon of the foe. The New Englanders at last silenced the island battery, so that the English fleet could enter the harbour and turn upon him its 500 guns. The expected supply ship from France, the Vigilant, had been captured, and Duchambon's supply of gunpowder was exhausted. He gave himself up to despair, and now it was that the flag of truce was sent to the British camp asking for terms of capitulation.
The terms offered by Pepperell were accepted. For forty-nine days Duchambon had defended Louisburg bravely. He had done his best, and when the time came to surrender he was permitted to march out his soldiers with colours flying and drums beating. While he abandoned the fortress by one gate, Pepperell at the head of the victorious besiegers entered by another. The day wound up with a great banquet; all was rejoicing at so glorious a victory. But terrible was the defeat and humiliation for more than 4000 of the French in Louisburg. They were embarked on ships and sent back to France.
Meanwhile the French flag was not lowered from the parapets, so as to lure in any French ships approaching those waters. The ruse was successful. Two East Indiamen and one South Sea vessel fell into the trap, and these prizes were afterwards found to be worth six hundred thousand pounds. In prize money the share of an ordinary seaman is said to have been eight hundred guineas.
No wonder the bells in Boston and Salem rang out with jubilation when the tidings of the capture of Louisburg arrived. Nor were King George II. and his ministers less pleased. From palace and tower cannons fixed their salute of rejoicing; many bonfires were lit in London, and whole streets were illuminated. Pepperell was created a baron and a colonel in the Army. Shirley was also rewarded. Warren was promoted to be an admiral. There is, however, a melancholy side to this picture. The troops left in possession of Louisburg were too elated by success to behave themselves properly. Many men can stand defeat who cannot endure success. The stores of liquor in the fort were stolen, and in spite of all the efforts of the English commandant 1000 men were found every day intoxicated. A terrible illness raged throughout the garrison, and when spring came it was found that out of 3000 men 1200 had died.
At first the people in France and in Canada could not believe the news that Louisburg had fallen. They had looked upon it as the key to French power in North-America. When at length there could be no doubt that the news was true, one thought, one ambition filled the minds of all—the fortress must at all hazards be retaken. It was resolved at Versailles that an expedition should be sent out to Cape Breton for that purpose. One of the finest fleets that ever left the shores of France sailed away from Rochelle the following year, commanded by the Duke d'Anville, which consisted of thirty-nine ships of war and many of the best soldiers in France. D'Anville had orders to recapture Louisburg and Nova Scotia, to ravage Boston, and turn all New England into a scene of desolation. But man proposes, God disposes. Not only were two of D'Anville's ships captured by English cruisers, but he encountered such a succession of storms and one mighty tempest, that the whole squadron was dispersed. When, at Chebucto, D'Anville arrived with the remnants of his fleet, his mortification was so great as to bring on an apoplectic stroke, from which he died.
On an island in what is to-day known as Halifax Harbour, his body was buried. On the afternoon of the very day on which the French commander died, his Vice-Admiral, Destournelles, arrived with three more ships, on board one of which was Canada's new Governor, General Jonquière. When Destournelles took command the outlook was most desperate. More than 2000 men were stricken with fever, and eventually died. Destournelles, seeing no hope for success, proposed that the expedition should be abandoned and the vessels return to France. Jonquière and most of the officers resisted this plan. If they could not take Louisburg, at least they could attack Annapolis and seize Nova Scotia. Annapolis was weak and had a small garrison, and once it were captured, Acadia was regained for France. Moreover, was not the priest, Le Loutre, at hand to give the signal to the Acadians to rise against their English masters? On seeing that they were all against him, Admiral Destournelles retired. He thought it reflected on his character and honour, and next morning they found him stabbed through the breast. He had lost his reason and flung himself upon his sword.
It was now Jonquière's turn to lead the forlorn expedition. But ere he could get to Annapolis another great storm arose, scattering his fleet, and nothing remained at last but to return dispirited to France. At least 2500 brave Frenchmen had been lost in this ill-fated expedition. Still undaunted by these terrible reverses, next year the Marquis de la Jonquière made another attempt with another fleet. But the English admirals, Anson and Warren, were on the watch; a battle was fought off Cape Finisterre, in the Bay of Biscay, and a signal defeat inflicted on the French. This time Jonquière himself was captured and carried to London. It seemed as if he were fated never to reach his Governor's château at Quebec.