CHAPTER III — THE LINK RECOVERED
1748
Louisbourg was the most thoroughly hated place in all America. The French government hated it as Napoleon hated the Peninsula, because it was a drain on their resources. The British government hated it because it cut into their oversea communications. The American colonists hated it because it was a standing menace to their ambitious future. And every one who had to live in it—no matter whether he was French or British, European or American, naval or military, private or official—hated it as only exiles can.
But perhaps even exiled Frenchmen detested it less heartily than the disgusted Provincials who formed its garrison from the summer of 1745 to the spring of the following year. Warren and Pepperrell were obliged to spend half their time in seeing court-martial justice done. The bluejackets fretted for some home port in which to enjoy their plentiful prize-money. The Provincials fretted for home at any cost. They were angry at being kept on duty at sixpence a day after the siege was over. They chafed against the rules about looting, as well as against what they thought the unjust difference between the million sterling that had been captured at sea, under full official sanction, and the ridiculous collection of odds and ends that could be stolen on land, at the risk of pains and penalties. Imagine the rage of the sullen Puritan, even if he had a sense of humour, when, after hearing a bluejacket discussing plans for spending a hundred golden guineas, he had to make such entries in his diary as these of Private Benjamin Crafts: 'Saturday. Recd a half-pint of Rum to Drinke ye King's Health. The Lord look upon Us and prepare us for His Holy Day. Sunday. Blessed be the Lord that has given us to enjoy another Sabath. Monday. Last Night I was taken verry Bad. The Lord be pleased to strengthen my Inner Man. May we all be Prepared for his Holy Will. Recd part of Plunder—9 Small tooth combs.'
No wonder there was trouble in plenty. The routine of a small and uncongenial station is part of a regular's second nature, though a very disagreeable part. But it maddens militiamen when the stir of active service is past and they think they are being kept on such duty overtime. The Massachusetts men had the worst pay and the best ringleaders, so they were the first to break out openly. One morning they fell in without their officers, marched on to the general parade, and threw their muskets down. This was a dramatic but ineffectual form of protest, because nearly all the muskets were the private property of the men themselves, who soon came back to take their favourite weapons up again. One of their most zealous chaplains, however, was able to enter in his diary, perhaps not without a qualm, but certainly not without a proper pride in New England spirit, the remark of a naval officer 'that he had thought the New England men were cowards—But that Now he thought that if they had a Pick ax and Spade they would digg ye way to Hell and storm it.'
The only relief from the deadly monotony and loneliness of Louisbourg was to be found in the bad bargains and worse entertainment offered by the camp-followers, who quickly gathered, like a flock of vultures, to pick the carcass to the bone. There were few pickings to be had, but these human parasites held on until the bones were bare. Of course, they gave an inordinate amount of trouble. They always do. But well-organized armies keep them in their place; while militiamen can not.
Between the camp-followers and the men Pepperrell was almost driven mad. He implored Shirley to come and see things for himself. Shirley came. He arrived at the end of August accompanied both by his own wife and by Warren's. He delivered a patriotic speech, in which he did not stint his praise of what had really been a great and notable achievement. His peroration called forth some genuine enthusiasm. It began with a promise to raise the pay of the Massachusetts contingent by fifteen shillings a month, and ended with free rum all round and three cheers for the king. The prospect thereupon brightened a little. The mutineers kept quiet for several days, and a few men even agreed to re-enlist until the following June. Shirley was very much pleased with the immediate result, and still more pleased with himself. His next dispatch assured the Duke of Newcastle that nobody else could have quelled the incipient mutiny so well. Nor was the boast, in one sense, vain, since nobody else had the authority to raise the men's pay.
But discontent again became rife when it began to dawn on the Provincials that they would have to garrison Louisbourg till the next open season. The unwelcome truth was that, except for a few raw recruits, no reliefs were forthcoming from any quarter. The promised regulars had left Gibraltar so late that they had to be sent to Virginia for the winter, lest the sudden change to cold and clammy Louisbourg should put them on the sick list. The two new regiments, Shirley's and Pepperrell's, which were to be recruited in the American colonies and form part of the Imperial Army, could not be raised in time. There even seemed to be some doubt as to whether they could be raised at all. The absence of Pepperrell from New England, the hatred of garrison duty in Louisbourg, and resentment at seeing some Englishmen commissioned to command Americans, were three great obstacles in the way. The only other resource was the colonial militia, whose waifs and strays alone could be induced to enlist.
Thus, once the ice began to form, the despairing Provincial garrison saw there could be no escape. The only discharge was death. What were then known as camp fevers had already broken out in August. As many as twenty-seven funerals in a single day passed by the old lime-kiln on the desolate point beyond the seaward walls of Louisbourg. 'After we got into the Towne, a sordid indolence or Sloth, for want of Discipline, induced putrid fevers and dyssentrys, which at length became contagious, and the people died like rotten sheep.' Medical men were ignorant and few. Proper attendance was wholly lacking. But the devotion of the Puritan chaplains, rivalling that of the early Jesuits, ran through those awful horrors like a thread of gold. Here is a typical entry of one day's pastoral care: 'Prayed at Hospital. Prayed at Citadel. Preached at Grand Batery. Visited No survivor ever forgot the miseries of that dire winter in cold and clammy Louisbourg. When April brought the Gibraltar regiments from Virginia, Pepperrell sent in to Shirley his general report on the three thousand men with whom he had begun the autumn. Barely one thousand were fit for duty. Eleven hundred lay sick and suffering in the ghastly hospital. Eight hundred and ninety lay buried out on the dreary tongue of land between the lime-pit and the fog-bound, ice-encumbered sea.