Nine Years a Captive/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII.

Of my three years captivity with the French.

When about six years of my doleful captivity had passed, my second Indian master died, whose squaw and my first Indian master disputed whose slave I should be. Some malicious persons advised them to end the quarrel by putting a period to my life; but honest father Simon, the priest of the river, told them that it would be a heinous crime, and advised them to sell me to the French. There came annually one or two men of war to supply the fort, which was on the river about 34 leagues from the sea.[1] The Indians having advice of the arrival of a man of war at the mouth of the river, they, about thirty or forty in number, went on board, for the gentlemen from France made a present to them every year, and set forth the riches and victories of their monarch, &c. At this time they presented the Indians with a bag or two of flour with some prunes, as ingredients for a feast. I, who was dressed up in an old greasy blanket, without cap, hat, or shirt, (for I had had no shirt for the six years, except the one I had on at the time I was made prisoner,) was invited into the great cabin, where many well-rigged gentlemen were sitting, who would fain have had a full view of me. I endeavored to hide myself behind the hangings, for I was much ashamed; thinking how I had once worn clothes, and of my living with people who could rig as well as the best of them. My master asked me whether I chose to be sold to the people of the man of war, or to the inhabitants of the country. I replied, with tears, that I should be glad if he would sell me to the English from whom I was taken; but that if I must be sold to the French, I wished to be sold to the lowest inhabitants on the river, or those nearest to the sea, who were about twenty-five leagues from the mouth of the river; for I thought that, if I were sold to the gentlemen in the ship, I should never return to the English. This was the first time I had seen the sea during my captivity, and the first time I had tasted salt or bread.

My master presently went on shore, and a few days after all the Indians went up the river. When we came to a house which I had spoken to my master about, he went on shore with me, and tarried all night. The master of the house spoke kindly to me in Indian, for I could not then speak one word of French. Madam also looked pleasant on me, and gave me some bread. The next day I was sent six, leagues further up the river to another French house.[2] My master and the friar tarried with Monsieur Dechouffour.[3] the gentleman who had entertained us the night before. Not long after, father Simon came and said, "Now you are one of us, for you are sold to that gentleman by whom you were entertained the other night." I replied. "Sold!—to a Frenchman!" I could say no more, went into the woods alone, and wept till I could scarce see or stand. The word sold, and that to a people of that persuasion which my dear mother so much detested, and in her last words manifested so great fears of my falling into. These thoughts almost broke my heart.

When I had thus given vent to my grief 1 wiped my eyes, endeavoring to conceal its effects, but father Simon, perceiving my eyes swollen, called me aside, and bidding me not to grieve, for the gentleman, he said, to whom 1 was-sold, was of a good humor; that he had formerly bought two captives. both of whom had been sent to Boston. This, in some measure, revived me: but he added he did not suppose I would ever wish to go to the English, for the French religion was so much better. He said, also, he should pass that way in about ten days, and if I did not like to live with the French better than with the Indians he would buy me again. On the day following, father Simon and my Indian master went up the river, six and thirty leagues, to their chief village, and I went down the river six leagues with two Frenchmen to my new master. He kindly received me, and in a few days madam made me an osnaburg shirt and French cap, and a coat out of one of my master's old coats. Then I threw away my greasy blanket and Indian flap, and looked as smart as —. And I never more saw the old friar, the Indian village, or my Indian master, till about fourteen years after, when I saw my old Indian master at Port Royal, whither I had been sent by the government with a flag of trace for the exchange of prisoners and again, about twenty four years since, he came from St. John, to fort George, to see me, where I made him very welcome.

My French master held a great trade with the Indians, which suited me very well. I being thorough in the languages of the tribes at Cape Sable and St. John.

I had not lived long with this gentleman before he committed to me the keys of his store, &c., and my whole employment was trading and hunting, in which I acted faithfully for my master, and never, knowingly, wronged him to the value of one farthing.

They spoke to me so much in Indian that it was some time before I was perfect in the French tongue. Monsieur generally had his goods from the man-of-war which came there annually from France.

In the year 1696, two men-of-war came to the mouth of the river. In their way they had captured the Newport, Captain Payson, and brought him with them. They made the Indians some presents, and invited them to join in an expedition to Pemmaquid. They accepted it, and soon after arrived there. Capt. Chubb, who commanded that post, delivered it up without much dispute to Monsieur D'Iberville, as I heard the gentleman say, with whom I lived, who was there present.[4]

Early in the spring I was sent with three Frenchmen to the mouth of the river, for provisions, which came from Port Royal. We carried over land from the river to a large bay, where we were driven on an island by a north-east storm, where we were kept seven days, without any sustenance, for we expected a quick passage, and carried nothing with us. The wind continued boisterous, we could not return back, and the ice prevented our going forward. After seven days the ice broke up and we went forward, though we were so weak that we could scarce hear each other speak. The people at the mouth of the river were surprised to see us alive, and advised us to be cautious and abstemious in eating. By this time I knew as much of fasting as they, and dieted on broth, and recovered very well, as did one of the others; but the other two would not be advised, and I never saw any persons in greater distress, till at length they had action of the bowels, when they recovered.[5]

A friar, who lived in the family, invited me to confession, but I excused myself as well as I could at that time. One evening he took me into his apartment in the dark and advised me to confess to him what sins I had committed. I told him I could not remember a thousandth part of them, they were so numerous. Then he bid me remember and relate as many as I could, and he would pardon them; signifying he had a bag to put them in. I told him I did not believe it was in the power of any but God to pardon sin. He asked me whether I had read the Bible. I told him I had, when I was a little boy, but it was so long ago I had forgotten most of it. Then he told me he did not pardon my sins, but when he knew them he prayed to God to pardon them; when, perhaps, I was at my sports and plays. He wished me well and hoped I should be better advised, and said he should call for me in a little time. Thus he dismissed me, nor did he ever call me to confession afterwards.

The gentleman with whom I lived had a fine field of wheat, in which great numbers of black-birds continually collected and made great havoc in it. The French said a Jesuit would come and banish them. He did at length come, and having all things prepared, he took a basin of holy water, a staff with a little brush, and having on his white robe, went into the field of wheat. I asked several prisoners who had lately been taken by privateers, and brought in there, viz. Mr. Woodbury, Cocks [Cox?] and Morgan, whether they would go and see the ceremony. Mr. Woodbury asked me whether I was designed to go, and I told him yes. He then said I was as bad as a papist, and a d—d fool. I told him I believed as little of it as he did, but that I was inclined to see the ceremony, that I might tell it to my friends.

With about thirty following in procession, the Jesuit marched through the field of wheat, a young lad going before him bearing the holy water. Then the Jesuit, dipping his brush into the holy water, sprinkled the field on each side of him; a little bell jingling at the same time, and all singing the words Ora pro nobis. At the end of the field they wheeled to the left about, and returned. Thus they passed and repassed the field of wheat, the black-birds all the while rising before them only to light behind. At their return I told a French lad that the friar had done no service, and recommended them to shoot the birds. The lad left me, as I thought, to see what the Jesuit would say to my observation, which turned out to be the case, for he told the lad that the sins of the people were so great that he could not prevail against those birds. The same friar as vainly attempted to banish the musketoes from Signecto,[6] but the sins of the people there were also too great for him to prevail, but, on the other hand, it seemed that more came, which caused the people to suspect that some had come for the sins of the Jesuit also.

Some time after, Col. Hawthorne attempted the taking of the French fort up this river. We heard of him some time before he came up, by the guard which Governor Villebon had stationed at the river's mouth. Monsieur, my master, had gone to France, and madam, his wife, advised with me. She desired me to nail a paper on the door of her house, which paper read as follows:

"I entreat the general of the English not to burn my house or barn, nor destroy my cattle. I don't suppose that such an army comes here to destroy a few inhabitants, but to take the fort above us. I have shown kindness to the English captives, as we were capacitated, and have bought two, of the Indians, and sent them to Boston. We have one now with us, and he shall go also when a convenient opportunity presents, and he desires it."

When I had done this, madam said to me, "Little English," [which was the familiar name she used to call me by,] "we have shown you kindness, and now it lies in your power to serve or disserve us, as you know where our goods are hid in the woods, and that monsieur is not home. I could have sent you to the fort and put you under confinment, but my respect to you and your assurance of love to us have disposed me to confide in you, persuaded you will not hurt us or our affairs. And, now, if you will not run away to the English, who are coming up the river, but serve our interest, I will acquaint monsieur of it on his return from France, which will be very pleasing to him: and I now give my word, you shall have liberty to go to Boston on the first opportunity, if you desire it, or any other favor in my power shall not be denied you." I replied:

"Madam, it is contrary to the nature of the English to requite evil for good. I shall endeavor to serve you and your interest. I shall not run to the English, but if I am taken by them I shall willingly go with them, and yet endeavor not to disserve you either in your person or goods."

The place where we lived was called Hagimsack,[7] twenty-five leagues from the river's mouth, as I have before stated.

We now embarked and went in a large boat and canoe two or three miles up an eastern branch of the river that comes from a large pond, and on the following evening sent down four hands to make discovery. And while they were sitting in the house the English surrounded it and took one of the four. The other three made their escape in the dark and through the English soldiers, and coming to us, gave a surprising account of affairs. Upon this news madam said to me, "Little English, now you can go from us, but I hope you will remember your word." I said, "Madam, be not concerned. I will not leave you in this strait." She said, "I know not what to do with my two poor little babes." I said, "Madam, the sooner we embark and go over the great pond the better." Accordingly we embarked and went over the pond.[8] The next day we spoke with Indians, who were in a canoe, and they gave us an account that Signecto town was taken and burnt. Soon after we heard the great guns at Gov. Villebon's fort, which the English engaged several days. They killed one man, then drew off down the river; fearing to continue longer, for fear of being frozen in for the winter, which in truth they would have been.

Hearing no report of cannon for several days, I, with two others, went down to our house to make discovery. We found our young lad who was taken by the English when they went up the river. The general had shown himself so honorable, that on reading the note on our door, he ordered it not to be burnt, nor the barn. Our cattle and other things he preserved, except one or two and the poultry for their use.[9] At their return they ordered the young lad to be put on shore. Finding things in this posture, we returned and gave madam an account of it.[10] She acknowledged the many favors which the English had showed her, with gratitude, and treated me with great civility. The next spring monsieur arrived from France in the man-of-war. He thanked me for my care of his affairs, and said he would endeavor to fulfil what madam had promised me.

Accordingly, in the year 1698, peace being proclaimed, a sloop came to the mouth of the river with ransom for one Michael Cooms. I put monsieur in mind of his word, telling him there was now an opportunity for me to go and see the English. He advised me to continue with him; said he would do for me as for his own, &c. I thanked him for his kindness, but rather chose to go to Boston, hoping to find some of my relations yet alive. Then he advised me to go up to the fort and take my leave of the governor, which I did, and he spoke very kindly to me.[11] Some days after I took my leave of madam, and monsieur went down to the mouth of the river with me to see me safely on board. He asked the master, Mr. Starkee, a Scotchman, whether I must pay for my passage, and if so, he would pay it himself rather than I should have it to pay at my arrival in Boston, but he gave me not a penny. The master told him there was nothing to pay, and that if the owner should make any demand he would pay it himself, rather than a poor prisoner should suffer; for he was glad to see any English person come out of captivity.

On the 13th of June, I took my leave of monsieur, and the sloop came to sail for Boston, where we arrived on the 19th of the same, at night. In the morning after my arrival, a youth came on board and asked many questions relating to my captivity, and at length gave me to understand that he was my little brother, who was at play with some other children at Pemmaquid when I was taken captive, and who escaped into the fort at that perilous time. He told me my elder brother, who made his escape from the farm, when it was taken, and our two little sisters, were alive, but that our mother had been dead some years. Then we went on shore and saw our elder brother.

On the 2nd of August, 1689, I was taken, and on the 19th of June, 1698, I arrived at Boston; so that I was absent eight years, ten months, and seventeen days. In all which time, though I underwent extreme difficulties, yet I saw much of God's goodness. And may the most powerful and beneficient Being accept of this public testimony of it, and bless my experiences to excite others to confide in His all-sufficiency, through the infinite merits of Jesus Christ.

  1. The fort spoken of here was Fort Nashwaak, which was occupied by Villebon, and was the head quarters of the government of Acadie from 1692 to 1699. It stood on eastern bank the St. John, at its junction the with the Nashwaak River, nearly opposite Fredericton, and on the northern side of the latter river. It was an ordinary pallisaded fort with four bastions, and had eight cannon mounted. Some traces of it are still visible
  2. This last French house spoken of by Gyles was doubtless that of Mathieu d'Amours de Freneuse who lived on the east side of the St. John, opposite the mouth of the Oromocto River. His wife was named Louise Guyon; she was a sister of the wife of Louis d'Amours who was afterwards so kind to Gyles. Mathieu d'Amours died from exposure after the siege of Fort Nashwaak. His wife afterwards removed to Port Royal, where she caused some scandal by an intrigue with the commandant Bonaventure, which was the means of filling the despatches to the French Minister with references to her conduct. Finally in July 1708, agreeably to orders from France, Madam de Freneuse was sent to Quebec, where both her own and her husband's families belonged.
  3. Louis d'Amours de Chauffours was the oldest of the four brothers who resided in Acadie and who have been already mentioned in a former note. He was born in 1654 and lived on the St. John River at the mouth of the Jemseg from 1684 to 1700. His wife's name was Marguerite Guyon. She was a sister of Madam de Freneuse. The Guyons were from the Province of Quebec. Both Louis d'Amours and his wife seem to have been very kind to Gyles, and his liberation without any ransom was certainly a generous action. In 1705, Louis d'Amours was a prisoner in Boston and had been for nearly two years. After this we lose sight of him. It is likely that all the family finally returned to Quebec.
  4. Fort William Harry at Pemmaquid was the strongest work which the English Colonists had up to that time created in America. It was on the site of the old fort, at the same place, spoken of in a former note, and situated about twenty rods above high water mark. It was entirely new, having been built in 1692 at the cost of Massachusetts. The fort was a quadrangle 108 feet across, or in compass 747 feet; its walls were of stone, cemented in lime mortar, their height on the south side facing the sea being 22 feet, on the west 18, on the north 10 and on the east 12 feet. The round tower at the South West corner was 29 feet high. Eight feet from the ground, where the walls were six feet thick, there was a tier of 28 port holes. Sixteen cannon were mounted on its walls. It cost £20,000 to build it and took upwards of 2000 cart loads of stone; and, as it was well manned, provisioned, and supplied with military stores, besides being almost surrounded by the tide at high water, it was thought to be impregnable. Captain Chubb was in command of it and he had a garrison of 95 men. Governor Villebon regarded it as a menace to Acadie and resolved to capture and destroy it, if possible. An expedition for that purpose was placed under the command of d'Iberville. It consisted of about 60 Frenchmen, a number of Indians from the St John River, and 130 Penobscot Indians under St. Castine. M. Thury and Father Simon were at the siege. The fort was invested on the 14th August 1696, and surrendered on the following day. The prisoners, agreeably to the terms of the capitulation, were taken to Boston in a vessel belonging to Louis d'Amours, and the fort demolished. The people of New England were greatly enraged at the destruction of their costly fort and at the cowardice of Chubb who surrendered it so easily.
  5. The island on which Gyles and his companions were driven and so nearly starved to death, was no doubt either Kennebeccasis Island or Long Island in the Kennebeccasis, probably the latter.
  6. This, we need scarcely say, is intended for Chignecto, where there was large French Settlement.
  7. This, it is scarcely necessary to explain, was the place now called Jemseg. The reader will observe from this how strangely Indian names have been changed in two centuries.
  8. This "pond" was Grand Lake. The term "pond" is used in some parts of New England to express large sheet of water, or in the very opposite sense from its proper meaning.
  9. This was a remarkable stretch of clemency on the part of the English commander-in-chief, and it was fortunate for Louis d'Amours and his family that Col. Church had been deprived of the chief command, for he would have shown no such consideration for their property, as his actions both before and afterwards at Passamaquoddy, Minas, and Chignecto show. Some of Church's actions in 1704, when on what he calls his last expedition east, were incredibly barbarous. At Passamaquoddy a good many unresisting French were massacred. At Minas he cut the dykes and destroyed the marsh lands. In short everything in the way of destruction that could be done was done by Church, but when fortresses were to be captured, Church was of no account. He failed to capture Port Royal as he failed to capture Nashwaak.
  10. "The expedition which consisted of 500 men, under the command of Col. Church who had won reputation in King Philip's war, left Boston on the 25th August, 1666, in a number of shallops and light vessels, and followed the coast, calling at Piscataque, Penolscot, and Kennebec. They then sailed for Beaubassin, (Fort Lawrence) at the head of Cumberland Bay, where they landed and committed various depredations, plundering the inhabitants, who fled to the woods. Church's experience in Indian warfare had probably unfitted him for strife of a more civilized character, for there was certainly something piratical in the conduct of this expedition, which appears to have started with no more definite object than to plunder and annoy the enemy. After spending several days at Beaubassin, they again set sail, and on the 29th September arrived off St. John Harbor, landing somewhere in the vicinity of Manawagoniche. Here Church was informed by a French soldier, whom he captured, that 12 cannon were buried in the beach, which were probably part of the armament intended for the fort which was to be erected on the site of Fort la Tour. After taking possession of them, he sailed for the St. Croix, where he was joined by a reinforcement from Boston, consisting of the Arundel, the Province galley, and a transport, with 200 men on board. Church was here superseded by Colonel Hawthorne, who took the chief command of the expedition—a change which, by spreading dissatisfaction among the leaders, operated injuriously on the result of the enterprise. Villebon, who was (illegible text)antly on the alert, had early suspected that an attempt would be made to capture Nashwaak, and had sent an ensign, named Chevalier, with 4 men, to the mouth of the river to watch for the approach of the enemy. From a rocky point which overlooks the Bay, they could observe an English brigantine approaching, and soon after the rest of the fleet hove in sight. Some of the troops landed from the vessels with such celerity that Chevalier and his party were attacked, and had to take to the woods; and two days later, when he was returning to the coast, he fell into an ambuscade, and was killed, and two of his men taken by the Indians, who had allied themselves to the English. Intelligence of Chevalier's fate and the approach of the enemy was taken to Villebon, at Nashwaak, by a brother of the latter, M. de Neuvillette, who had been sent out to reconnoitre. Vigorous preparations were immediately made to resist attack, which was now certain, and all the available aid in the vicinity at once called in. The garrison numbered 100 soldiers and they were kept constantly employed in strengthening the defences and mounting fresh cannon. On the 12th October, when Neuvillette arrived at the fort, Villebon despatched a messenger to father Simon, begging him to bring as many of his neophytes as he could influence, to the defence of the Fort. On the 14th Simon arrived at Nashwaak with 36 warriors to join the garrison, who were still constantly employed in throwing up new entrenchments. Neuvillette was again sent out to reconnoitre, and on on the 16th returned, reporting that he had seen the English in great force a league and a half below Jemseg, and that their approach might be hourly expected. On the 17th the generale was beat, and Villebon addressed the garrison, exhorting them to be brave in the defence of their post, and reminding them of the prowess of their nation. To stimulate their courage still further, he assured them that if any of them should be maimed in the contest, his majesty would provide for him while he lived. This address was listened to with much enthusiasm, and at its close the cries of vive le roy awakened the echoes of the wide spreading forest, and were borne down the river almost to the English fleet. The same evening Baptiste, the captain of a French privateer, with the brothers René and Mathieu d'Amours, and ten Frenchmen, who lived lower down the river, arrived at the fort. Villebon stationed them with the Indians, to endeavor, if possible, to prevent the landing of the English. Baptiste and René d'Amours were placed in command of this detachment. That night the garrison lay under arms, as from the barking of the dogs, it was evident the enemy was near. Next morning, between 8 and 9 o'clock, an armed sloop rounded the point below the fort, and was immediately followed by two others, all of them being full of armed men. Villebon was attending mass at this time, but on the alarm being given, hastened at once to his post. The vessels approached until they were within half the distance of a cannon shot, when they were fired on from the fort, upon which they made for the shore, and effected a landing on the eastern side of the St. John, behind a point of land on the lower side of the Nashwaak. No attempt was made to oppose their landing, as the River Nashwaak intervened between them and the French. They advanced at once to a point opposite the fort, where the river did not exceed a pistol shot in width, and commenced throwing up earthworks in the form of a demi bastion. In three hours they had two guns mounted and ready to fire, and hoisting the Royal Standard of England, they commenced firing. A third gun of larger size was mounted in the course of the day. The contest was carried on with vigor,—the fire of musketry being heavy, and the guns on both sides well served, La Cote particularly distinguishing himself by the rapidity and precision of his firing from the fort. The Indians on both sides appear to have taken a considerable part in the contest, which was only terminated by the approach of darkness. The English, with singular negligence, had omitted to provide themselves with tents, and were consequently in a great measure at the mercy of the elements. That night was frosty and cold on the low land at the margin of the river, and the fires which they lighted were targets for the enemy's shot, so that they were obliged to extinguish them. In consequence of this, they suffered greatly, and were in poor condition to renew the attack next morning. As soon as day dawned, the fire of musketry from the fort commenced, and about 8 o'clock the English got their guns again into operation. One of them was dismounted by a shot from the fort, and the firing became so severe that the others had to be abandoned in the course of the day. From the vigor with which the defence was conducted, it became evident that the fort could not be taken unless by a regular investment, while the absence of tents and the approach of winter made such an operation impossible. It was therefore decided to abandon the undertaking, and the same evening fires were lighted over a large extent of ground to deceive the French while the troops embarked. Villebon seems to have suspected the design, for he proposed to Baptiste and René d'Amours to cross the river below the fort and annoy the English in their retreat with their Indians, but they declined so uncertain and dangerous a service. When the morning dawned, the English camp was empty, and Neuvillette was sent to see if they had embarked. He found their vessels (4 in number) three leagues below, and going down the river with a favorable wind. The expedition, according to the French account, lost 80 men from sickness on the voyage back to Boston. Thus ended the siege of Nashwaak. The loss of the French is stated by them to have been one soldier killed, a second losing his legs, and a third being wounded by the bursting of his musket. Mathieu d'Amours, who lived at Freneuse, opposite the mouth of the Oromocto, and who came to assist in the defence of the fort, was so much injured by exposure during the siege that he shortly afterwards died, and the English, on their way down the river, burnt his residence and laid waste his fields. The English loss in the siege was said to be 8 soldiers killed, and 5 officers and 12 soldiers wounded—a number which, considering the exposed position they occupied and the vigor of the French fire, does not appear too large to be worthy of credence.
  11. Governor Villebon has left a good reputation behind him as an able and zealous officer. He was a son of the Baron Bekancourt and had several brothers, all officers in the service of France. Villebon died at the mouth of the River St. John, 5th July, 1700, and was buried somewhere within the site of the present city, but like many other good and great men, no man knows his grave. M. Diereville, who published an account of a voyage to Acadie in 1708, was here when Villebon died. He calls him "grand homme, tres bien fait et plein d'esprit."