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.