Major Lawrence, however, did not suspect that the French movement was merely what is known as a demonstration. He took it for granted that the French were waiting only for some favorable condition of the tide in order to cross over and attack him in his position. He saw that the French force three or four times outnumbered his own; and as his mission was one of pacification, he decided not to shed blood uselessly. He ordered a retreat to the ship. The men went very reluctantly, hating to seem overawed; but Major Lawrence explained the situation, and declared that, Beaubassin being burned, there was no special object in remaining. He further promised that later in the summer he would come again, with a force that would be large enough for the undertaking, and would build a strong fort on the hill at whose foot they were now encamped. Then the red files marched sullenly back to their boats; while a body of Indians, reappearing from the woods, yelled and danced their defiance, and the French across the river shouted their mocking ballads.
CHAPTER III.
FRENCH AND ENGLISH.
When it was seen that the English were actually reembarking, a fierce indignation broke out against Le Loutre for the useless cruelty and precipitancy of his action. The French troops had some little feeling for the houseless villagers, and they were angered at being deprived of their chief and most convenient source of supplies. The fierce abbé insisted that the movement of the English was a ruse of some sort; but when the ships got actually under way, with a brisk breeze in their sails, he withdrew in deep chagrin, and returned with his Micmacs to his village on the muddy Shubenacadie. Relieved of his dreaded presence the Acadians set bravely to work building cabins on the new lands which were allotted them back of Beauséjour, and along the Missaguash, Au Lac, and Tantramar streams. A few were rash enough to return to their former holdings in Beaubassin, rebuilding among the ashes; but not so Antoine Lecorbeau. On the northwest slope of Beauséjour, where a fertile stretch of uplands skirts the commencement of the Great Tantramar marsh, he obtained an allotment, and laid his hearthstone anew. The burning of Beaubassin had not made him love France the more, but it had cooled his liking for the English. The words of Captain Howe, nevertheless, which Pierre had repeated to him faithfully, lay rankling in his heart, and he harbored a bitter suspicion as to the good faith of the French authorities. He saw that they professed disapproval of the methods of Le Loutre, but he began to doubt the sincerity of this disapproval. Pierre, however, was troubled by no such misgivings.
The summer, though a laborious one, slipped by not at all unpleasantly. Mother Lecorbeau soon had a roof to shelter her little brood of swarthy roisterers; a rough shed, built over a hillside spring in a group of willows, served as the dairy wherein she made the butter and cheese so appreciated by the warriors on Beauséjour. Lecorbeau got in crops both on his new lands and on the old farm, and saw the apples ripening abundantly around the ruins of his home in Beaubassin. As for Pierre, in his scanty hours of leisure he was always to be found on the hill, where an old color sergeant, pleased with his intelligence and his ambition to become a soldier of France, was teaching him to read and write. This friendly veteran was, in his comrades' eyes, a marvel of clerkly skill, for in those days the ability to read and write was by no means a universal possession among the soldiers of France.
One evening in the first of the autumn, when here and there on the dark Minudie hills could be seen the scarlet gleam of an early-turning maple, just as the bay had become a sheet of glowing copper under the sunset, a rosy sail appeared on the horizon. The pacing sentry on the brow of Beauséjour stopped to watch it. Presently another rose into view, and another, and another; and then Beauséjour knew that the English fleet had returned. Before the light faded out the watchers had counted seventeen ships; and when the next morning broke the whole squadron was lying at anchor about three miles from the shore.
With the first of daylight Pierre and his father hastened up the hill to find out what was to be done. To their astonishment they learned that the troops on Beauséjour would do just nothing, unless the English should attempt to land on the French side of the Missaguash. They had received from Quebec a caution not to transgress openly any treaty obligations. To Antoine Lecorbeau this news seemed not unwelcome. He was for quiet generally. But Pierre showed in his face, and, indeed, proclaimed aloud, his disappointment. The old sergeant laughed at his eager pupil, and remarked:
"O, my young fire eater, you shall have a chance at the beefeaters if you like! His Reverence the abbé arrived in Beauséjour last night about midnight, and he's going to fight, if we can't. Treaties don't bother him much. He's got all his Micmacs with him, I guess. There they go now--the other side of the stream. In a bit you'll see them at work strengthening the line of the dike. They're going to give it to the beefeaters pretty hot when they try to come ashore. There's your chance now for a brush. His Reverence will take you, fast enough."