estimated eight rafts twenty-by-twenty feet would be sufficient. Progress making these rafts was excruciatingly slow, however. Even with an all-out effort, a day later none was ready. Frustration mingled with deep fear seeped into everyone.
“This raft building is taking far too long,” Nola said. “With all the noise we’re making, at any moment a passing patrol might hear us, and that would be it for us. Maybe we should settle for smaller logs.”
“It’s too bad we weren’t able to bring a horse or two to help us with this logging,” Grandpa said. “We had over four hundred in Grand Pré. Sadly, they’re all in British hands now.”
Exasperation turned to full-scale fright when a suspicious figure stepped into their clearing. On closer inspection the newcomer proved to be Frank Lawrence, who was carrying a large pack.
Nola confronted him. “What are you doing back here? You haven’t told the soldiers at the fort about us, have you?”
“No, I’ve honoured my oath, as I said I would. I’m here because I’ve decided to help you. The more I thought about it the more troubled I became by what’s been done to you. The man who threatened to shoot me made sense. You’re not rebels, and it’s wrong to confiscate all your property, especially with no compensation. Our government should’ve offered innocent families land elsewhere. That would’ve been the right thing to do.”
“Well, then, we’re glad to see you,” Hector said. “What do you have in that pack?”
“I figured you’d want to make rafts, so I brought some cutting tools and rope to tie logs together. I also brought some fishing gear.”
Hector rummaged through the pack. “Perfect! That’s just what we need. Now we can make real progress.”
Still dubious, Nola asked, “Who are you? All you said before was that your name’s Frank and that you come from England.” She frowned. “And why do you speak French so well?”
“My Uncle Charles is the governor of Nova Scotia. I’m sorry to say that he’s the man who gave the orders to have you deported and to plunder your property. I’m a student in England and I’m here just for the summer to ‘broaden my horizons,’ as my father puts it. I speak French because I spent many summers in Bordeaux where my family owns a vineyard.”
Nola furrowed her brow. “I suppose that means you know how to read and write?”
“Yes, I can read and write in French and English, and I have a little Spanish, as well.”
“Well, then, it would be nice if you could teach us. Our priest taught us to read a bit, but hardly at all, really. I hate that I don’t know how.”
“That isn’t the way I expected to help, but I suppose I could do that.”
“Great. Let me introduce you to the girls. I’m Nola. This is Jocelyne. Over there is Adele and Delphine.” Nola followed with a long list of names. “I’ll introduce you to the boys later when they take a break from raft building.”
“It’ll take me a while to remember all your names,” Frank said. “I’m very pleased to meet you all.”
“We’d better start using that fishing gear you brought,” Jocelyne said. “There isn’t much food for dinner, I’m afraid.”
Several girls grabbed the new gear, hopped into the shallops, and headed off to catch dinner.
Much relieved at his good reception, Frank decided he would make some oars for the rafts. He doubted either his father or uncle would have approved of his new venture, even if he would certainly “broaden his horizons.” Frank knew the long-standing tension between France and England would make his choice to help these fugitives a difficult one to explain to his friends, but he was determined not to stand by and do nothing. Still, he had to admit that taking risks appealed to him.
By mid-afternoon of the next day, they were all delighted to see the eight rafts completed. The sooner they left the isthmus the safer they would be. Hector decided the cod the girls had caught could be cooked ashore, but to speed their departure they would eat the meal itself onboard the rafts. So after the pot of delicious-smelling fish was ready, it was immediately transferred to the rafts, the fire was stamped out, and they were off.
Once out on the water, the ravenous crew consumed the fish stew.
“I’ve never seen a meal eaten with so much gusto in my life,” Jocelyne said. “I guess all our hard work and relief at getting away made everyone extra hungry.”
Although the sails on the rafts weren’t efficient, they were definitely better than using oars alone. Hector said that should a raft begin to stray from the main group a towline would be extended from a shallop to tow them back.
It was a fitting reflection of the travellers’ mood that a beautiful evening greeted the flotilla’s first few hours back at sea. Several boys demonstrated their glee by diving into the frigid depths and splashing a few girls dangling their legs in the water — antics that sparked merriment all round. The cold water soon forced an end to this pleasant interlude, but the good cheer persisted.
Nola approached Frank after this little frolic to ask if he would convene their first language lesson. Noting there was nothing to write on, and concerned the dim light given off by their raft campfire would be insufficient for the task, Frank asked for suggestions. Grandpa overcame his wariness about taking lessons from this foreign youth and told him the Mi’kmaqs used the inside part of birch bark to draw messages. So, he suggested, since they had birch firewood on the raft, this technique might do. Several fugitives began to peel the bark from the birch logs. Such writing had to be done in two stages: they had to mark the bark with a knife, then fill these marks with ashes from the firepit. This method, though cumbersome, proved functional, especially after they piled a few more logs onto the fire to brighten the light.
Frank started the lesson by writing and pronouncing each letter of the alphabet in French and English and then asked everyone to repeat the letters and write them. After this exercise, he asked each student to write his or her name. Nola was absolutely thrilled when, in just over two hours, she succeeded in scrawling her name shakily.
“This is wonderful,” she said. “I’ve wanted to write my name since I was a little girl. Father Daubin never taught us any of this. He mostly recited stories and songs from the Bible, which are certainly lovely. We had to learn many of them by heart. My favourite hymn is ‘Ave Maris Stella.’ It’s beautiful, but I don’t understand a word of it because it’s in Latin. Now at last I am on my way to being able to write. Thank you for this amazing gift, Frank.”
After the lesson, when the conversation turned to their travel itinerary, Grandpa said it was about fifty miles to Tatamagouche. At their current pace that meant they should reach that town in less than two days. They had enough water and firewood to last until then, so there would be no need to go ashore.
“That’s good,” Hector said, “because if we can stay five miles or so offshore, we’re less likely to be discovered by patrols.”
At about midnight three boys in the lead shallop — Remy, Joseph, and Pierre — spied several large seals basking in the water. They asked Hector if they could borrow the bayonets seized from the three soldiers during the isthmus fight.
“If
