CHAPTER VIII.
THE NEW ENGLANDERS.
The refuge of good wife Lecorbeau, and the children, and "Pierre's little one" was a wooded bit of rising ground which, before the diking-in of the Tantramar marshes, had been an island at high water. It was still called Isle au Tantramar. Among the trees, under rude lean-to tents and improvised shelters of all sorts, were gathered the women and children of Beauséjour, out of range of the cannon balls that they knew would soon be flying over their homes. The weather was balmy, and their situation not immediately painful, but their hearts were a prey to the wildest anxieties.
By this time the New Englanders had landed over against Fort Lawrence, and had joined their forces with those of the English at the fort. The numbers of the attacking army filled the Acadians with apprehension of defeat. Many of them, like Lecorbeau, had in the past taken oath of allegiance to King George, and these feared lest, in the probable event of the English being victorious, they should be put to death as traitors. This difficulty was solved, and their fears much mitigated, in a thoroughly novel way. The commandant assured them solemnly that if they refused to join in the defense of the fort he would shoot them down like dogs. Upon this the Acadians conceived themselves released from all responsibility in the matter, and went quite cheerfully to work. Even Lecorbeau feeling himself secured by Vergor's menace, was quietly and fearlessly interested in the approaching struggle. Lecorbeau, was no faint-heart, though his far-seeing sagacity often made him appear so in the eyes of those who did not know him well. As for Pierre, he was now in his element, sniffing the battle like a young warhorse, and forgetful of the odds against him. Le Loutre was everywhere at once, tireless, seeing everything, spurring the work, and worth a hundred Vergors in such a crisis as this.
Beauséjour was a strong post, a pentagon with heavy ramparts of earth, with two bombproofs, so called, and mounting twenty-five pieces of artillery. Some of the guns were heavy metal for those days and that remote defense. I have seen them used as gateposts by the more aristocratic of Beauséjour's present inhabitants. Within the fort was a garrison of one hundred and sixty regulars. Three hundred Acadians were added to this garrison--among them being Pierre and his father. The rest of the Acadians spread themselves in bands through the woods and uplands, in order to carry on a system of harassing attacks.
Across the Missaguash, some distance from its mouth, there was a bridge called Pont-â-Buot, and thither, after a day or two of reconnoitering, Colonel Moncton led his forces from Fort Lawrence. They marched in long column up the Missaguash shore, wading through the rich young grasses. As they approached they saw that the bridge had been broken down, and the fragments used to build a breastwork on the opposite shore. This breastwork, as far as they could see, was unoccupied.
Appearances in this case were deceptive. Hidden behind the breastwork was a body of troops from Beauséjour. There were nearly four hundred of them--Acadians and Indians, with a few regulars to give them steadiness. Pierre, as might have been expected, was among the band, beside his instructor, the old sergeant. Trembling with excitement, though outwardly calm enough, Pierre watched, through the chinks of the breastwork, the approach of the hostile column. Just as it reached the point opposite, where the bridge had been broken away, he heard a sharp command from an officer just behind him. Instantly, he hardly knew how, he found himself on his feet, yelling fiercely, and firing as fast as he could reload his musket. Through the rifts of the smoke he could see that the hot fire was doing execution in the English ranks. Presently, he heard the old sergeant remark:
"There come the guns! Now look out for a squall!"--and he saw two fieldpieces being hurriedly dragged into position. The next thing he knew there was a roar--the breastwork on one side of him flew into fragments, and he saw a score of his comrades dead about him. The roar was repeated several times, but his blood was up, and he went on loading and firing as before, without a thought of fear. At length the sergeant grabbed him by the arm.