CHAPTER XIV
AN EXCURSION
Balfour, when the three started on their afternoon expedition, was in aparticularly happy frame of mind.
"There's one advantage in working all summer--a half holiday seems tentimes more valuable now than usually. Not that I'm working hard thissummer, only my days are not my own, and I can seldom make plans;besides, I do begrudge the time that I have to take from study."
"Then you will probably think to-day wasted."
"No, indeed; besides, we are going to study nature, and--"
"A little French history," interposed Martine. "Did you not say that youwould take us to an old battleground?"
"Yes, I hope to, for my steed is not like Jill. We can depend on gettingsomewhere with Lion, whereas Jill--"
"Mr. Frazer would say that she went fast enough the day he rode her inmy company."
"It's a great thing for a horse to know when to stop, as well as when togo on. Whoa, Lion! There, we can leave him standing while we go up thatlittle hill. It's said to be the site of an ancient French church. Itmay interest you."
Amy and Martine loudly praised the beauty of the scenery as they stoodon the elevated land above the narrow, winding river.
"They say that a church stood here in the earliest French days, with aset of silver bells that rang out most musically over the water. Then,when the church fell to pieces, the bells sank into the earth, and arehidden somewhere underground,--and any one who likes may dig for them."
Martine began to prod in the earth with her parasol.
"Come, my dear, we won't have time to-day, and you need a crowbar ratherthan that tiny stick. If you found them they would be rather too clumsyto carry home;" and Amy laid her hand on Martine's arm.
"I'd rather look for Apostle spoons," replied Martine. "I heard of awoman who dug up two in her garden, and when she saw how dirty theywere, threw them into a kettle of lye that she happened to have boilingfor soap, or something of that kind. She almost lost her head when theugly lead things came out looking like gold, for they were silver washedwith gilt. If she found such things, why not I, for it's a true story,isn't it?" turning to Balfour.
"Oh, yes, fairly true, and there's always a chance of finding somethingby digging long enough. But I would never waste my time digging, exceptwith hoe and spade, for fruit and vegetables. There's good money," heconcluded, "in strawberries here in Nova Scotia. In Annapolis I know aman who has several acres, and in good seasons he gets two thousandboxes a day."
"Strawberries! Aren't apples the prize crop here?"
"Yes, and more certain than anything else. A man can get $300 an acrefrom a good orchard. If money were the only thing I'd rather be a farmerthan a lawyer down here."
"That's better than some gold mines," said Amy, as they turned andwalked down the hill to the carriage.
"When I was a small shaver," continued Balfour, "and had plenty of timeto spare, I used to walk there along the top of the dykes of Annapolis.From the base of seven or eight feet it narrows to hardly a foot at thetop, and I can tell you that it was ticklish work keeping a footing."
"Why didn't I know of that before?" cried Martine. "I certainly shouldhave tried it. I love to walk on railroad tracks, and dyke-walking mustbe almost the same."
"You can't try anything of that kind while you are in my care,"interposed Amy. "The river is probably deeper than it looks, and if youshould go too near the edge--"
"Oh, I can swim, my dear Miss Amy Redmond, though, to put your carefulsoul at ease, I'll promise not to go near the water. All the same, Iwish that I were an Indian, at this very moment gliding down from Minasto Digby. Didn't you tell me that this was one of their favoriteroutes?" and she turned to Balfour for a reply.
"Why, yes," he replied, "from any point outside Minas they used to glideover to French Cross, then by a portage of four miles to Aylesford, andthey would be borne on by the current down the Annapolis River,sometimes as far even as Digby."
"French Cross?" asked Amy. "What have I heard of French Cross?"
"Perhaps of the awful winter there that some of the Acadians passedthrough, just after the deportation."
"Tell me about it," cried Martine, eagerly. "I never heard of it."
"Well, after the Acadians had been put aboard the ships at Grand Pre,some friendly Micmacs hurried down secretly to warn the French at theeastern end of Annapolis. When they heard the news, about sixty Acadiansdecided on flight, and with a Micmac guide began to make their waynorth. They hoped to reach a point on the shore where the English wouldnot see them, from which they could cross over to New Brunswick, andthen get the protection of the French at Quebec. But when they reachedAylesford they did not dare try to cross. Their food was poor, sicknessbroke out among them, many died, and were buried in the soft Aylesfordsand. The others went on to French Cross, but still did not dare crossthe Bay. During the bitter cold of December, while they were sufferingeverything, they saw the last of the transports pass down the Bay,carrying their countrymen to the southern colonies. Many died during thewinter, and when spring came the friendly Indians made birch-bark canoesfor the remainder, who then crossed in safety to the New Brunswickshore."
"Man's inhumanity to man," sighed Amy, sentimentally.
"What wretches the English were!" exclaimed Martine, more energetically.
"Remember, please, that I am English;" and Balfour raised his hand inremonstrance. "Besides, the persecutors of the Acadians were notEnglish, but your fellow New Englanders, who took the whole matter onthemselves, without asking leave of any one else."
"But I am no New Englander," objected Martine.
"Oh, it's all the same. Some of your ancestors were from New Englandundoubtedly, unless you are different from most Chicagoans. But if yourepudiate New England, you cannot object to my arousing your sympathiesfor some of those exiled Loyalists who suffered quite as much as theover-pitied Acadians."
"It's a shame Priscilla is not here," murmured Martine.
Now Balfour was not likely to speak idly, and in a moment he had begunhis recital.
"The old lady who told this story to my mother was visiting Annapolisfrom Fredericton, and her mother, the daughter of an officer in a NewJersey regiment, experienced all the hardships that she described. Thevessels with these New Jersey officers and soldiers and their familieswent up the St. John River in early October, and landed at a placecalled St. Ann's, that later became Fredericton, the capital of theProvince. It was a wet, cold season, and the people had no shelter buttents, that they tried to cover with spruce boughs. Their floor was theground, and when snow fell in early November the old lady's mother saidthat her family tried to shut it out by putting their one rug againstthe opening. Often a part of the family had to sit up all night to keepthe others from freezing. When everything else failed they would heatboards at the fire, and hold them over the children to give them neededwarmth."
"A likely story!" and Martine smiled.
"Indeed, it is perfectly true," rejoined Balfour, gravely. "Many men andwomen died of exposure and lack of food that terrible winter. Theirgraves were dug with pickaxe and shovel, in the hard ground not far fromthe tents. Like the Acadians at French Cross, they had no clergyman topay the last rites. They had been used to comfortable and pleasanthomes, and many of them had had wealth; so it was doubly hard to have tolive in Indian fashion on fish, and moose, and berries. In the springthey made maple sugar, and killed pigeons. There was great rejoicingwhen the first vessels came with corn and rye. They were in constantfear of the Indians, and it was long before they could live even halfdecently."
"I have always sympathized with the Loyalists," said Amy, quietly.
"Oh, well, it's all over now," returned Balfour, bitterly. "But it musthave been hard for many of them to remember that their houses and lands,and even their personal property, had been passed over to people who tothem seemed to have no shadow of right to it."
"Do you care now?" asked Martine, gently.
"Oh, no;" but Balfour's
tone belied his words. "My family did not sufferso much as some, though we had to start here in Annapolis with littlebesides the land that the King granted."
"Back to the soil is a good thing sometimes."
"Oh, yes, and Nova Scotia was very hospitable to the poor Loyalists; butstill--to tell the truth, sometimes I wish that I had grown up on theother side of the line. There seems to be more chance in many ways;" andBalfour sighed.
Amy looked at Balfour in surprise. He was evidently considerably herjunior, yet he talked like one much older.
"I should like to see him and Fritz together," she thought. "I believethat Fritz would appear five years younger, for he always persists intalking like an overgrown boy."
"There," concluded Balfour, "I have said too much. On the whole, I amcontented, and the Province offers more than many corners of the worldto an ambitious young man, so enough said. Now, just see, I was soabsorbed in harrowing your feelings over the Loyalists that I have takena wrong turn, and we are now so far from the battleground that we'llhave to give it up this afternoon."
"'All roads are alike to me,'" hummed Amy, while Martine added, "But thescenery here is lovely. Just see how the North Mountain stands out, withthat little fringe of mist hanging about the top, and I've never seen somany fine orchards. Oh, I wouldn't have missed this particular drive foranything;" and her flushed cheeks and beaming eyes showed that she hadmeant what she said.
"The drive has been full of pictures, too," added Martine. "I've seen agreat many things even that you have not spoken of, and whenever I lookover there toward the woods I fancy I see an Indian creeping along; notan unfriendly savage, but one with a smile on his face, hoping perhapsto be asked by Lescarbot to stay to dinner at the Fort."
"Yes," rejoined Balfour, "one of those jolly fellows who objected to thewording of the Lord's Prayer in asking for bread, saying that breadalone wouldn't do for him, as he needed moose, and fish besides."
"Yes, and some of the French dishes that they favored him withoccasionally."
"Well, I have heard many things that make me believe that the Indians ofAcadia were jokers. Some of the stories would shock you, I am afraid;"and Balfour hesitated.
"Oh, we are not so easily shocked. Tell us, do."
"Very likely you've heard this particular thing. But it is said that oneof the men in that first expedition of the French undertook to make adictionary, and when he tried to get some of the natives to give him theMicmac for various sacred names, the Indian gave him words that werejust the contrary,--almost profane, in fact,--so that the Frenchman madehimself very ridiculous when he tried to make use of his newvocabulary."
"Which shows," said Martine, "that the Micmac Indian was not such aserious and solemn creature as those that used to appear in our schoolhistories bewailing the advance of the white man. I always thought I'dlike to meet one of them."
"Why, Martine?"
"Yes, just for the pleasure of sticking a pin in him. He would neverhave had spirit enough to turn his tomahawk against me. But theseMicmacs knew how to enjoy life. The dictionary maker was probably aprim, conceited fellow, who deserved to be laughed at. Of course, in ageneral way," she concluded hastily, "I am always on the side of theFrench, and I love to remember that the old Fort once belonged to them."
"'When from Port Royal's rude-built walls Gleamed o'er the hills afar, The golden lilies on the shield Of Henry of Navarre.
"'A gay and gallant company, Those voyagers of old, Whose life in the Acadian Fort Lescarbot's verse has told,'"
recited Balfour, as they turned into St. George's Street, "and here weare in sight of Fort Anne, and it pleases my soul that the flag floatingabove is the flag of Great Britain."
"We won't quarrel about that now," said Martine, "for you have given usthe very pleasantest afternoon we've had."
"Yes," added Amy, "it has certainly been delightful, and so it is allthe harder to remember that this is probably our last excursion aroundAnnapolis,--at least, for the present."
"You are very good to appreciate our old town so, and I hope that youwill find Wolfville almost as attractive. I am sorry enough, however,that you are going away. We shall miss you all;" and though emphasizing"all," Balfour looked directly at Martine as he spoke. "My sister hasgrown so fond of Miss Priscilla that she has forgotten her inborn hatredfor New Englanders, and I hope you'll understand that we all appreciateyour interest in Acadian history. I only trust I haven't bored you andMiss Martine by my facts and reminiscences. I fear that I've been almostgarrulous."
"Oh, no, indeed, far from that;" and Martine's emphasis showed howdeeply she meant what she said.
At this moment they had reached their own door and the last good-byeshad to be said.
"I cannot come again this evening," Balfour explained, "but I'll see youfor a moment at the train."
Then, thrusting his hand into his pocket, with an exclamation he drewout a small object that he held toward Martine. "I had almost forgotten,but if you would take this," he cried, "for your collection, I would beso pleased. It's in a better condition than most things they dig up;"and as Martine took it, she saw that it was a small trowel, remarkablybright, yet of a curious shape.
"Another Acadian relic. How kind you are!"
"This fork is for you, Miss Redmond. Even if you have not a collection,it will interest you. The trowel," Balfour continued, "was almost asbright as this when it was dug up, it had been buried so deep, and thefork is of an odd shape. Of course they haven't any great value," heconcluded, "only they are genuine relics, as I know, for I dug them upmyself. I might have brought you a gridiron with a long handle and fourfeet, but you would have found some difficulty in carrying it about, andthe little spade can be carried in your travelling-bag for use inmending a broken dyke, or shaping bricks, if you happen to wish to mendor build on the way. That at least was its original use, and thefork--well, you can find many uses for it;" and he turned from Martineto Amy.
Both girls found it hard to bid good-bye to Balfour. In spite of theshortness of their acquaintance he was already an old friend, one whosefriendship they particularly valued.
"How sensible he is," sighed Martine, as they went indoors, "and tothink that he's only a year older than Taps!"
"A year older than--who?" asked Amy, thinking that she must havemisunderstood. "What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing--really nothing," replied Martine, hastily, with aheightened color. "I was only thinking that Balfour Airton seems so verymuch older than most boys of his age, and he knows so much more thanmost students." Martine's words were hurried and nervous, and Amydecided that she was more disturbed than she had expected her to be atparting with her Annapolis friends.
But if Amy only suspected Martine's feelings, she had no difficulty indeciding how Priscilla felt. She and Eunice had formed a most romanticattachment for each other, and made no effort to hide the tears thatfell freely as they bade good-bye at the station. At the final partingeach threw her arms around the other's neck, and the bystanders triednot to laugh when Eunice in her emotion knocked off Priscilla's hat andentangled the cord of her eyeglasses in Priscilla's belt. But thebystanders, if amused, were sympathetic, consisting as they did chieflyof Dr. and Mrs. Gray, Balfour, and Mrs. Airton, and one or two otherfriends whom the travellers had met during their weeks in Annapolis.
"Your tears, my dear Eunice," said Dr. Gray, "exactly express thefeelings of all the rest of us; and while we wish you, Mrs. Redmond, asafe journey, it is perhaps not too selfish to hope that you and theyoung ladies may look back to Annapolis as the brightest spot on the mapof your travels."
"Indeed, we shall," said Mrs. Redmond, cordially, "and--"
"All aboard!" called the conductor; "Good-bye," shouted Balfour; "Writesoon," sighed Eunice.
"Come back next summer," cried Dr. Gray.
"Perhaps sooner," responded Amy, and with a puff and a shriek the"Flying Bluenose" glided off toward the real land of Evangeline.