In the siege of his fort Villebon lost only one man killed and two wounded while the English loss is said to have been eight soldiers killed and five officers and twelve soldiers wounded.
The effect of the capture of Pemaquid by d’Iberville and the repulse of the English by Villebon greatly encouraged the savages of Acadia in their hostility and the following summer another raid on the English settlements was planned. A large number of Micmacs came from the eastward, some of them from the Basin of Minas, with St. Cosme, their priest, at their head. They were entertained by Villebon, furnished with ammunition and supplies and sent on to the rendezvous at Penobscot. Father Simon and 72 Maliseets were sent in the same direction soon afterwards with instructions to pick up the Passamaquoddies on their way; they departed in high spirits with the intention of giving no quarter to the enemy and Villebon encouraged their animosity, exhorting them “to burn and to destroy.” This advice they followed to the letter for the Governor wrote in his journal shortly afterwards, “the missionary, M. de Thury, confirms the report I already had received of four small parties of our Indians having killed fifteen or sixteen English and burnt one of them alive on account of one of their chiefs being slain.” The vindictiveness of the Indians is further illustrated by an incident that happened at the Medoctic village in the time of King William’s war, in which John Gyles and James Alexander, two English captives, were cruelly abused. A party of Indians from Cape Sable, having had some of their relatives killed by English fishermen, travelled all the way to Medoctec in order to wreak their vengeance upon any English captives they might find. They rushed upon their unfortunate victims like bears bereaved of their whelps, saying, “Shall we, who have lost our relations by the English, suffer an English voice to be heard among us?” The two captives were brutally beaten and ill used and made to go through a variety of performances for the amusement of their tormenters. Gyles says: “They put a tomahawk into my hands and ordered me to get up, sing and dance Indian, which I performed with the greatest reluctance and while in the act seemed determined to purchase my death by killing two or three of these monsters of cruelty, thinking it impossible to survive the bloody treatment.... Not one of them showed the least compassion, but I saw the tears run down plentifully on the cheeks of a Frenchman who sat behind.” The tortures were continued until the evening of what Gyles might well call “a very tedious day.” Finally a couple of Indians threw 53 the two wretched men out of the big wigwam, where they had been tormented; they crawled away on their hands and knees and were scarcely able to walk for several days.
The experience of Gyles was, however, nothing in comparison with that of his brother and another captive taken by the Indians at the same time as himself. This unfortunate pair attempted to desert, but failed and were subjected to the most horrible tortures and finally burned alive by the savages.
The people of the frontier settlements were now so on the alert that, although the Indians roamed over the country like wolves, they were usually prepared to meet them. Every little village had its block house and sentinels, and every farmer worked in his fields with his musket at his side. Nevertheless tragic events occasionally happened. In February, 1698, Captain Chubb, of Pemaquid notoriety, and six others were killed by the Indians at Andover, several of the inhabitants were captured and many houses burned; Major Frost was slain at Kittery and a number of people at Wells; Major Marsh had a sharp fight near Pemaquid, in which he lost twenty-five of his men, but succeeded in putting the savages to rout. This was the last blood shed during King William’s war. The Indians were becoming weary of fighting and the peace of Ryswick deprived them of the open assistance of their French allies. For a brief season peace reigned in Acadia.
The expedition under Church had interrupted the rebuilding of the fort at St. John and shown the correctness of Villebon’s prediction in a letter written to the French minister in 1696 that it was impossible with the few men at his disposal to attempt a work which, though easy to repair could not be completed as quickly as the enemy could get ready to destroy it. In the same letter he speaks of making plank near Fort Nachouac for the madriens, or gun platforms, of the fort at Menagoueche. As there were mills at this time at Port Royal, it would be possible from this incident to frame a theory that Villebon had a saw mill a short distance up the Nashwaak, say at Marysville, but it is more probable the planks were cut in saw pits by the soldiers of the garrison. The plan of the fort at St. John was agreed on in 1698, and 3,000 livres granted for its construction. Villebon paid his workmen 30 sous (about 30 cts.) a day, his laborers 20 sous, and the soldiers 4 sous a day over their pay and a weekly allowance of 1 qr. lb. tobacco. The walls of the fort were laid in clay and mortar, 24 pounders were placed on the bastions and 36-pounders could be placed there three on each bastion. By the end of the year Villebon was able to report the fort in a condition to do honor to whoever should defend it. He had left Nachouac just as it was, leaving only two men to see that nothing was spoiled by the savages.
A plan in the Marine Archives at Paris, made by Villieu in 1700, shows that “Fort de la Riviere de St. Jean,” or Fort Menagoueche, was built at “Old Fort Site,” behind Navy Island in Carleton. The general plan was the same as that of Fort Nachouac, but it was considerably larger, nearly 200 feet square. Within the enclosure were barracks for the soldiers, a residence for the governor with small chapel adjoining it, a house for the officers of the garrison, lodgings for the surgeon, gunner and armorer, a small prison and a well, and just outside the gate were two bake-houses. The water supply of the fort seems always to have 54 been inadequate. The sieur des Goutins, who disliked Villebon, complains in a letter of 23rd June, 1699, “the Governor keeps the water within the fort for the exclusive use of his kitchen and his mare, others being obliged to use snow-water, often very dirty.” Diereville, who visited St. John during his short stay in Acadia describes the fort as “built of earth, with four bastions fraised (or picketed) each having six large guns.” A new industry was now coming into existence, namely the shipping of masts to France for the King’s navy; Diereville sailed to France in the Avenant “a good King’s ship,” mounting 44 guns which had brought out the ammunition and provisions that Placentia and the Fort on the River St. John received annually. This ship took on board a number of fine masts that 14 carpenters and mast makers in his majesty’s service had manufactured at the River St. John. The vessel left Acadia on the 6th of October and reached France in 33 days.
The period of Governor Villebon’s residence at St. John was of about two years’ duration. He died on the 5th July, 1700, and was buried near the fort. The life of this devoted son of New France went out with the century and with his death the seat of government of Acadia was again transferred to Port Royal.
Brouillan now succeeded to the command. He found the fort at St. John in good order, as was to be expected, it having been just rebuilt, but in the opinion of the new governor it was of little use for the glory of the King or for the preservation of the country. He condemned the situation as being commanded on one side by an island at the distance of a pistol shot, and on the other by a height at the distance only of a hundred and odd fathoms (toises), and with a very insufficient water supply. He therefore caused the fortifications to be razed, demolished the houses, and carried away the guns and everything else of a portable character to Port Royal. The inhabitants living on the River St. John were left without protection and they seem almost without exception to have removed, some to Quebec and others to Port Royal. The valley of the St. John was thus left as deserted and desolate as it had been previous to the arrival of Champlain. The Indian might wander at will among the ruins of forts and dwellings abandoned to his care, or left to be converted into hiding places for the wild beasts and wonder at the folly of the white man who had forsaken the finest river in all Acadia with its wealth of forest and stream and its fertile lands awaiting the hands of industry and thrift.