Northwest Passage, Part Seven
Le Chaume, Mid January 1634
The torches were starting to gutter out as the sun rose, but the fires were still being stoked as the villagers gathered, their packing and loading finished. Their day had started long before the dawn as the entire Huguenot population of Le Chaume prepared to leave for the New World. The deadline for reporting to La Rochelle was tomorrow. A few final carts were being piled high with cherished possessions that just couldn't be left and farewells were being said to those who were remaining. Off to one side, a discussion was heating up as Pierre Marion tried to reach a deal with Giscard Berthaud, a farmer from the next village south. Pierre had an extra hay cart and donkey that exceeded his cargo allowance and Giscard saw a chance to get them for a song. They had been haggling for half an hour already and Pierre was getting exasperated. Elie Marion stood by patiently, holding the reins for his father, who needed both hands to make his points. Giscard was a notorious skinflint and had waited until Pierre was ready to leave before making his offer. Elie smiled at his father's colorful description of Giscard's ancestry. When Giscard tried to break in on the tirade to ask who else would buy the cart and donkey, Pierre suddenly turned to Elie and told him to get in the cart. He then walked back to Giscard and spit on the ground. "That is what I think of your offer. I would rather sink the cart in the harbor and have the donkey for dinner than sell to a thief like you!" Giscard just stood there sputtering as Pierre stomped back to Elie. "We'll take it with us to La Rochelle." Giscard reached over and pulled on Pierre's sleeve to try to continue the haggling. Pierre shoved him away. "I can get more for it as a dung cart than what you want to pay. Get out before I do something you'll regret!" Giscard hurried off to try and find a more willing patsy.
Pierre grabbed Elie by the shoulder and pointed him toward a group gathering at the north end of the village. "Go see Pastor Bigeault. I'm sure an extra cart will come in handy somewhere today." Pierre turned and went to help his wife do one last check of their house for anything they might have missed. Elie sat there for a second until his father's words finally sank in. He could ride to La Rochelle! The prospect of the long walk he had been dreading disappeared. He reached under the seat and found the whip they used to coax the donkey. He prodded the beast and headed it toward the north end of the village. As the donkey ambled along, Elie searched the groups as they finished loading their carts. In the waning moonlight, he finally spotted the figure he was looking for. His betrothed, Paulette Bannion, was trying to stuff a small rabbit cage onto her family's already overloaded cart. Elie pulled up beside her.
"Would Mademoiselle like to hire a carriage for herself and her companions for her journey?" He managed to bow from the cart seat without falling out.
Paulette turned in surprise. "Where did you get an empty cart? I thought they were all spoken for." As she stepped around to put the cage in the back, she got a better view from the light of a warming fire. "Isn't this is the hay cart where we . . . ?"
"Shhh! Not so loud! Your father might hear you!"
"He doesn't care now that we're betrothed."
"You still don't need to announce it to the whole village." To change the subject, Elie motioned toward the cage. "Make sure it's stowed securely in the back. We'll probably need all the space we can manage once I see the pastor. Father told me to help him." He winked at her. " I think I'll have to have you sit next to me here in front." Paulette climbed up and snuggled up next to Elie to stay warm. He shook the reins and the donkey started out again. The day was definitely looking up. No matter what Pastor Bigeault might have him doing, having Paulette for company on a long ride was worth it.
****
Pastor Bigeault was surrounded by a milling group of villagers. The adults were clamoring for answers to their questions and the youngsters that were running errands for him. Elie pulled up and waved to get the pastor's attention.
Bigeault yelled over the questions being thrown at him. "What can I do for you, Elie? I'm rather busy here. I've got too many problems and not enough answers." One of the youngsters kept tugging at his sleeve to get his attention.
Elie yelled back, "Maybe I can help you! I've got an extra empty cart if you need one."
Bigeault's face lit up. "A prayer answered! I need someone to follow at the end of the column and help anyone who's unable to complete the trip on foot. I've got a number of older folks that don't have a cart and still think they're tougher than anyone and can walk all the way to La Rochelle. I just know we'll have a fair number needing help eventually. I don't want to lose any stragglers. I'm sure you'll be overloaded by the time we finish. Can you do that?"
"My pleasure! If I need assistance, Paulette can help," Elie volunteered without asking her. The exasperated look he got from her promised another session on male manners.
****
Eight hours later, the pastor's prediction had come true. The cart was full to overflowing. It had filled up gradually. Some folks had started with brief rests before resuming walking. Now, all of the oldsters that Bigeault had feared might wear out were squeezed in, sleeping. The day was still cold, even with the sun shining. No one complained about the extra body heat. The only space left was on the seat next to Paulette. Elie had insisted that the space be kept clear so they would be able to get in and out to help anyone who needed a boost. The head of the column was probably getting close to La Rochelle but Elie and Paulette were quite a ways farther back. Elie was tired and started to daydream about the farm he planned to start in the New World. Plans slowly formed and evolved. A stout house and a large dairy barn, with fields full of cows. He smiled at the scene. Slowly, the fields somehow changed to a pen full of hogs. Suddenly a shout broke his reverie.
"Watch where you're going!"
Elie jerked awake. He had almost run down Jean Barceur and his ten pigs. He pulled back on the reins and brought the cart back to the middle of the road. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. At least it explained where the hog farm came from. He wanted to be a dairy farmer. He hated pigs!
He checked his passengers and they were all right. When he turned to Paulette, she broke down laughing. "Did you fall asleep? Or were you trying to get even for the time Jean dosed you with slops for teasing his prize sow?"
Remembering the incident, Elie let out a loud guffaw. That woke up some of the sleeping passengers and they started asking, "Are we there yet?" He turned around and answered, "We're close. I'm not sure how far." No sooner had he said that than they cleared the woods they had been riding through and the harbor towers of La Rochelle shown in the afternoon sun. He pointed to the north. "The tallest one, that's the Tour St. Nicholas. It's less than an hour until we stop."
Up ahead the road crossed over a wide stream on a stone bridge. The storms over the past month had left the road heavily rutted, with a washout on the far right hand side of the bridge. Spotting the trouble in time, Elie swung to the left. Concentrating on the road, he missed the remains of a broken wheel lying in the washout. As they reached the far side, Paulette tugged at his sleeve and pointed toward the bushes on the stream's bank. "What's that in the bushes?" A pair of wiggling shoes and the accompanying pants legs were just visible disappearing into the brush. A muffled voice could barely be heard, "Here, boy. Hold still!"
When Elie just stared, Paulette grabbed the reins from him and jerked the donkey to a halt. "That's Francois, Madame Vasseau's youngest. What's he doing in there?" She pushed Elie to get down and check. "Go get him! His mother is probably frantic!"
Elie grabbed a set of chocks and set them under the front wheel. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the donkey running the cart off the road. With a perplexed expression he looked back and asked Paulette, "How do you know it's Francois?"
"His mother is the only one in the village that uses that color thread for hemming pants." She gave him a look that was usually reserved for questions from the village idiot.
Under his breath he muttered, "Only another woman would remember something like that." Shaking his head, he climbed down the short embankment. As he approached, he noticed a game trail leading into the bushes where they had spotted Francois. He called out, "Francois, is that you in there? Get out here now before something takes a bite out of you!"
"I'm here, but I need some help."
"What are you doing? Are you stuck?"
"No, I need a knife to cut him out! Please hurry, he's hurt badly!"
Realizing that Francois wasn't coming out voluntarily, Elie got down on his hands and knees and went into the brush to haul him out. Grabbing hold of a leg, he pulled Francois out, kicking and sputtering. "Let me go! I've got to save him!"
"Save who!" Elie had gone through this type of ten questions with his sister on a number of occasions and was starting to get the same frustrated feeling.
"The dog! Don't you listen? He's crying in there." Francois twisted in Elie's grip, trying to go back to the animal trail.
Elie held on but listened. There was a faint sound like an animal whimpering in pain. He knelt down in front of Francois. "Promise me you'll stay here and I'll go in and see what I can do. All right?" Francois nodded vigorously. Paulette came down from the road and took Francois in tow. Her smile encouraged Elie to try.
By getting down on his hands and knees, Elie tried to see what was in the brush. Only by crawling in on his stomach could he get passed the brambles to where Francois had gone. He pulled out his work knife and crawled in. He shielded his face from the thorns with his free hand. Pushing with his toes, he found that the animal trail broke quickly through to a small den area. In the dim light he suddenly found himself nose to nose with a large white, emaciated dog that gave him a tentative lick.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the leather studded collar that had gotten snagged on a main branch and twisted. The dog was so tangled that he couldn't move. He reached slowly forward with the knife to cut the collar free. The dog seemed to sense his intention and held completely still. After some careful sawing, the collar parted and the dog could move. It was so exhausted that Elie had to back out, dragging the dog behind him. Even as emaciated as it was, it was still a heavy load.
As the pair emerged from the brush, Francois twisted away from Paulette and raced over to the dog. "You saved him! You saved him! Thank you, Elie." He buried his face in the fur and hugged.
Elie gently separated them. "Careful now, he's in rough shape." He quickly asked Paulette, "Can you fetch the water jug and a bowl from the cart? He's almost dead from thirst."
Paulette scrambled up the slope and returned quickly with the water. Keeping Francois back, he set the bowl in front of the dog. "Let him drink. I'll check him over to see if he's injured." The big, white dog lay there, feebly wagging his tail while he lapped up the water. After the third refill, Elie made it pause. He hadn't found any injuries, other than the cuts and scrapes from trying to free the collar. The brush had prevented it from injuring itself worse by confining it. It was a magnificent mountain dog, bred for protecting livestock from predators. It was exhausted and lean from its ordeal, but adequate food and water appeared to be all it needed.
Its presence was a mystery. Elie scratched his head and surveyed the scene. "How did you get here and what's happened to your master?" The dog just looked at him and begged for another bowl. As he poured out some more water, Elie spotted the broken wheel he had seen earlier. Now that he actually looked, he noticed that it was the wheel from a substantial carriage or wagon. There were numerous signs about that some type of accident had occurred and repairs had been made. No clues were around to hint who it might have been. Probably a well to do herder, heading to La Rochelle with livestock to sell. He would check around discreetly when they got there to see if he could learn more. In the meantime, he had to get the cart moving or they might spend the night outside the walls.
Francois looked up and asked, "Can I keep him?"
Elie stalled. "I'll secure him under the front seat for the time being. He's too tired to walk. You'll have to ask your parents about keeping him." Hearing an excited shout, Elie looked up. "Speaking of parents, here's your mother now and she doesn't seem too pleased."
Madam Vasseau came up and grabbed Francois by the ear. "What do you think you're doing, young man, scaring your father and me half to death? Thank you for finding him Elie. Just wait 'til I get you back to our cart! I'll . . ."
Elie interrupted. "Madame Vasseau, Francois has been doing a good deed. He's a hero!" Remembering his younger days, Elie knew Francois needed some help.
Madam Vasseau paused, looking perplexed. "A hero?"
"He saved a valuable dog from a certain death." Elie pointed to the Pyrenean mountain dog under the cart seat.
Sensing an opening, Francois quickly asked, "Can I keep him, please?" Francois made the sad eyes only a child in love with a pet can make, but it did no good.
"Certainly not! How would we feed him? We have barely enough for ourselves. You'll just have to find someone else to take him."
With her emphatic statement, Elie's half formed idea coalesced. "I'll take care of him, Francois. You can visit anytime and he won't be a burden to your family." He would also be a valuable addition to the Marion farmstead in the New World. A good guard dog would be worth its weight in gold in a potentially hostile environment.
Madam Vasseau nodded agreement before Francois could interrupt. "A fine suggestion! Now come along, we need to get moving." She took Francois by the hand and started to pull him toward their waiting cart. As he left, Francois looked back over his shoulder to Elie and the dog. Elie gave him the thumbs up and winked.
Paulette laughed softly and climbed into the cart. "I can see this is going to be interesting." The dog looked appealing at her. "Do you have anything in that little bag of yours he can eat?" Elie rummaged through and came up with a crust of bread. It quickly disappeared.
"Maybe I'll be going hungry soon," he sighed.
****
Long shadows reached across the road as the head of the column approached the gates of La Rochelle. There were still signs of the siege from the previous Huguenot revolt. Pastor Bigeault was in the lead cart with Pierre Marion to speed their passage through the city to their lodgings. As they reached the gates, a guard stepped out to challenge them. "Who are you and what's your business here?" He lowered his pike to block their way. Before Pastor Bigeault could answer, the guardroom door opened and a familiar acquaintance appeared.
"Charles, you fool! Put up that pike and get out of the way! How many times have I told you? We're expecting a very large group from Le Chaume." Captain Reneuf stepped forward to assist the pastor down from the cart. "I don't know if you remember me, but the last time we met, you were christening a baby and I posted the Edict at your church."
"Of course I remember. How could I forget, given the results?" Pastor Bigeault motioned to the growing assembly of carts that continued to slowly trickle up. "Can you tell me where we are to be lodged?"
"I can do better than that." Reneuf turned to his deputy. "Sergeant La Batt, I want you to escort the pastor and his flock to the site by the Tour St. Nicholas." He rounded on the gate guard who was leaning up against the wall, trying to take a surreptitious swig from a wine jug. "Charles, drop that jug and get that gate open now!"
He bowed the pastor toward the door he had stepped out of earlier. "If you would step into my guardroom, I'll show you a map of where your people will be quartered. We have two warehouses for your shelter and the walls from a building that was damaged in the siege where you can stable your livestock." Once they had entered the dimly lit room, Reneuf reached for a rolled parchment on a nearby desk, rolled out a map of the harbor area and then pointed out the buildings and the route to get there. When he was certain the pastor had the directions memorized, he digressed to small talk. "I'm so glad you've finally arrived. I've been getting messages twice a day from Monsieur Guitton and once a day from the admiral inquiring on whether you had been sighted by my patrols. Admiral Duquesne was starting to worry that you were not going to come. The fleet plans to sail within the week and he has an empty ship. I can't say I'm happy you're here, though. My men and I have been assigned to the army unit that's going with the fleet. We're having to leave our ladies behind." He suddenly realized who he was talking to and blushed a deep red. "I'm sorry, Pastor! I shouldn't have been so crude."
"Nonsense, sir. Maybe you need to sail with wives instead of leaving lovers." There was a loud creak from outside. " It sounds like your sergeant has the gate ready for us to depart. I look forward to our future discussions on your soul." With a chuckle at Reneuf's discomfiture, Bigeault headed outside to lead his group to their lodgings. Reneuf left out a side door to report to the Admiral that the last group for the New France expedition had arrived safely.
****
Admiral Duquesne sat at his desk, trying hard not to nod off to sleep. The final conference before loading the fleet for its voyage was dragging on. Trying to get all the political and military leaders together at one time had been like trying to herd cats. There were a few missing. Notably, Jean Guitton, the local Huguenot leader was absent on "pressing" city business. Two of the merchant ship captains that would be carrying passengers were at the docks loading new arrivals. They were the lucky ones. The rest of the attendees had had to listen to Samuel Champlain's petty complaints about his lost prerogatives. Michael Mausineur had spent the past hour trying to convince Champlain that he really should sail with the ships that would be headed to the former English colonies in Virginia. As the leader of New France, Champlain belonged at the capital, not the new settlement. As Duquesne looked across the room at the other attendees, he could see Leonard Calvert jerk upright. Evidently he was having trouble staying awake too. When Mausineur finished, Champlain finally nodded a weary acceptance.
"If that is how it must be, then I will agree. You do have a valid point that dealing with the English settlers will require an experienced leader to calm their fears. I just hope you can handle dealing with the natives in the south as well as you say you can." He went back one last time to an earlier point that he had previously surrendered. "I'm still not sure how you plan to handle the Dutch in New Amsterdam. You say that you have worked this out with Lord Baltimore and Cardinal Richelieu?" Mausineur and the Calvert brothers nodded without elaborating. They were hoping Champlain would not press the point, since their plans were contrary to his aversion to violence. "I suppose the threat of a regiment of pikemen and a frigate or two should be sufficient to cow them into a bloodless surrender." Behind his back, Mausineur raised his eyes to heaven in relief. Champlain finally sat down.
There was a knock on the door. Duquesne called out in a voice that barely hid his relief at the interruption, "Come in!"
His aide stuck his head in. "Captain Reneuf just reported in that the entire group from Le Chaume has finally arrived. He's having them escorted to the waiting area by the harbor towers. Do you need to speak to him, or should I send him back to see to the billeting?"
Duquesne looked around the room to the others. Hearing no concerns he replied, "Give him my thanks for a prompt report and send him on his way." The aide hesitated and Duquesne asked, "Is there anything else?"
"The gentleman who says he's to be the bishop for New France is waiting in the outer room and insists that he speak with you. I told him you were busy but he says he'll wait until you're done."
"Very well, tell him that I should be done here shortly and that I will see him then." He gave a Gallic shrug and commented to the guests, who were gathering their coats to leave. "I suppose I should be grateful that I've at least been able to postpone this meeting for as long as I have. I hear he's made quite a name for himself in the two weeks he's been in La Rochelle." The chuckles from the other attendees confirmed that the stories had gotten widespread coverage amongst the town's gossips. Demands for the best food and lodging without payment had angered many of the local Huguenot merchants and he was frequently seen in the company of a high class "lady."
"Gentlemen, are there any other issues we need to discuss before I have to see this churchman?" The tone left little doubt that any questions would be greatly appreciated.
Cecil Calvert was still seated and cleared his throat.
"You have a question, my lord?"
" A minor problem. My ships have been held in one port or another for many months. I have to revictual and water before we go and I am having difficulty finding carts to transport the supplies to my ships. The local carters won't deal with an Englishman. It seems a recent visit by a countryman of mine has all the carters in an uproar."
Duquesne raised an eyebrow in surprise, but quickly added, "I'll see that you have your carts within two days, Lord Baltimore. Our good Captain Reneuf should have no trouble locating something for you." Mausineur tried to catch his eye. "Oh yes, the payments! If any settler should ask about their land and bonus payments, tell them that will be taken care of at the time of sailing. If they press, tell them we want to make sure they actually do sail with the fleet." Duquesne started to straighten the papers on his desk.
The visitors took the hint. The meeting broke up quickly, as the dinner hour was already well past. Admiral Duquesne called for his aide, "You may send in the bishop now!"
The aide returned a moment later and announced the visitor. "Bernard de Perpignan, the bishop of New France!"
A short, rotund, balding gentleman in church vestments hobbled past the aide. His attitude and demeanor tallied with all the stories Duquesne had heard about his visitor's regard for "the lesser ranks" of humanity. His first words confirmed the opinion.
"Admiral, I've been kept waiting almost two weeks to meet with you! Is this any way to treat a senior leader of the Church?"
"I'm sincerely sorry, your eminence. I was given to understand that you had been seriously injured during your journey here and required some time for recuperation."
The apology seemed to mollify the bishop momentarily, but he then launched into another diatribe. His nasal voice grated on Duquesne. He wondered how de Perpignan's sermons were endured by his parishioners. His thoughts were interrupted as de Perpignan reached into the leather folder he was carrying.
"Here is my appointment as bishop of New France. I will need three cabins for myself and the two priests that are accompanying me, and five cabins for my staff members and our servants. As you can see, my appointment was signed by the pope, so there shouldn't be any problems meeting my request!"
Duquesne picked up the parchment and examined it closely. It was beautifully illuminated and did, indeed, appoint one Bernard de Perpignan to be the bishop of New France. In addition, it authorized two priests to support his work. Oddly, nothing was said as to any sources of income for the post. And nowhere in the document was the name of Cardinal Richelieu mentioned, nor the king. A memory of past court news came to Duquesne as he read further. The family de Perpignan had been implicated in the events surrounding the Day of Dupes but nothing had been proven. On an impulse he asked, "Very impressive. By the way, before you received this appointment, where was your previous church?"
"I had the honor to be a chaplain. The Duc de Orleans is my patron!"
"Ahh! That explains a great deal." Duquesne handed the parchment back. The man was nothing more than a spy for Gaston. The papers might be genuine. Given Gaston's wealth, buying a bishopric in a new land was very possible. Without time to confirm with the authorities in Paris, he would go along for now. Nothing said, though, that he had to bend over backwards to acquiesce to the bishop's outlandish request for cabins. "I will have a cabin prepared for you on the Grande Dame. It is the last ship with any cabin space. Your priests and staff will have to travel with the rest of the settlers. Please report within the next three days if you still wish to sail with us. Good day!" He called for his aide, "Henri, please see the bishop out. We are finished."
Bernard started to protest that he had other ecclesiastical issues he needed to discuss, but Henri grabbed hold of an elbow and escorted him out.
When he heard the outer door slam, Duquesne relaxed. "I fear that man is going to bring nothing but troubles to the voyage." He got up, put on his cape, and went out to find a good bottle of wine and some roast duckling.
****
Captain Reneuf approached the Tour St. Nicholas in search of Pastor Bigeault just after sunrise. He needed to procure the services of three or four carts and drivers to load supplies for the Ark and the Dove. The settlers from Le Chaume were the only ones with carts and animals available to break the strike the local haulers were calling against the two English ships. Hopefully, Bigeault could convince someone to help. The only people in sight were a young man and a boy with a large white dog. They were training it to answer commands. Their efforts seemed to be picked up quickly by their pupil. Reneuf vaulted the low fence and walked over. The dog came over, wagging his tail but voicing a low warning.
"Champion, stop that! The gentleman has business here." The young man stepped over and gave the dog a push on the rump to sit. "I'm Elie Marion, how may I help you?" The boy raced up and held the dog for Elie. He was rewarded with a sloppy kiss from Champ.
"I'm looking for Pastor Bigeault. Is he around?'
"I'm sorry, but he went to visit some of the other pastors here in La Rochelle. He wanted to meet with them before we sailed next week. I don't believe he plans to be back today. Is there anything I can do?"
"Only if you know where I can get some carts and drivers." Reneuf clearly seemed to think that Elie was just making polite conversation and started to turn to go.
Elie quickly replied, "I can get you at least two for sure, and depending on the pay, all that you can use. What does the work involve?"
"I need to haul supplies to two ships in the fleet. I have soldiers to load. They'll just need to drive. I'll pay three livres a cart, in silver."
Elie thought the offer over. Reneuf definitely was associated with the fleet and might be high enough in rank to solve a problem some of the settlers were encountering as they had their belongings loaded on board. The ships' masters were limiting families to one cart and beast and no more than three hundred pounds of goods. If the fleet was in a tight spot for hauling goods, maybe an arrangement could be reached. "I'll get you your carts at that price, if you do me a favor, too."
Reneuf looked like someone who knew his pocket was about to be picked and couldn't stop the thief. He replied cautiously, "And what might that favor be?"
"Some of the folks from my village need extra weight authorizations for their goods and one of the carts you want is over the limit too. If you get those authorized, we'll be ready as soon as you are. Oh, and one large dog." Elie pointed at Champ. "Deal?" He held out his hand.
Reneuf tried not to show his relief. He knew from talking to the ships' captains that there was more than ample space for what Elie was asking for. An extra ship had been chartered and was only partially full with military supplies. He could add the goods in with his unit's supplies and no one would be the wiser. The dog would be easy to slip aboard. "Done, but you have to work with me to get them loaded. They'll have to officially be goods with my troops." They shook and then walked over to the livestock area to prepare the carts.
The hauling job was finished just as the sun was setting. Reneuf had the drivers gather to be paid. Afterward, he spoke with Elie. "Have the cart and donkey down by the Martine on Tuesday, along with the goods. We finish loading then. I'll get them on last so they are easy to get out when we reach our destination. You kept your bargain and kept the admiral off my back. I'll make sure your goods get on with no trouble." Champ wandered up and barked his approval of Reneuf.
When Elie returned to the campsite that night, his father was overjoyed to learn what his son had accomplished. "You will keep the cart and donkey for your new farm. You've earned it. They will be a big help, harvesting your first crops in the new land." He gave Elie a sound thump on the back and passed him his favorite jug. Elie was surprised. His father had never shared the jug before. "You did a man's job today, son. You deserve to drink with the men now!" Elie took a long swallow and then realized why his father never had let him drink from this one before. It burned like fire all the way down. But when it hit bottom, it left a warm feeling all over him. He sat down by the fire and relaxed.
****
Bishop de Perpignan had reluctantly decided to accept Duquesne's offer. As he boarded the Grand Dame, he paused on the gangplank to listen. He thought he heard a familiar bark. The bark of the large dog he had lost in the carriage accident had sounded just like the bark coming from the group of carts unloading at the two ships down the quay. Shaking his head, he proceeded on board. His ears were just playing tricks on him. He reached the deck and demanded to be escorted to his cabin. Within five minutes, he made a complaint to the ship's captain that the quarters were too small. Captain de Bussy replied that the only larger space available was in the bilge with the ballast and rats. All thoughts of the dog's bark were soon forgotten.
La Rochelle Harbor, February 1634
All the preparations were done. All the passengers were on board. It was a magnificent sight. Seven French naval ships and twelve merchant ships prepared to get underway. One last issue remained to be addressed. On all the ships carrying Huguenot settlers, the captains assembled the passengers and then read a statement.
"All funds described in the Edict of Poitou will be paid to settlers upon arrival in New France. Deductions for food and transportation, in the amount of two hundred livres for each family will be made from the amounts owed. Signed, Cardinal Richelieu, Compagnie des Cent Associes." Across the harbor, voices could be heard in protest as the anchors were weighed. Nothing had ever been mentioned about paying for the passage west. The largest French settlement fleet ever to sail began its voyage under a cloud of dissension.
****
To be continued . . .