Returning from a brief word with the ship-captain,—a very broad-bearded, broad-chested man, in a very rough blue coat,—Lieutenant Waldron passed us hastily, and signified that it was all right. With this sanction we pushed along the crowded deck in order to gain a post of vantage at the bow. The vessel, whose hold was now to be our new and narrow cage, was one of those ordinarily engaged in the West Indian trade. Our noses told us this. To the savours of fish and tar which clung in her timbers she added a foreign tang of molasses, rum, and coffee. As we stumbled up the cluttered deck, lacking the balance of free hands, these shippy smells were crossed in curious, pathetic fashion by the homely odours of the blankets, clothes, pillows, and other household stuff that lay about waiting for storage. Here a woman sat stolidly upon her own pile, with a mortgage on the future so long as she kept her bedding in possession; and there a youngster, 209already homesick, for his wide-hearthed cabin, sobbed heavily, with his face buried in an old coat of his father’s.

For hours, in the bitter cold, we held our post in the bow of the ship and watched the boats go back and forth. Of the old mother of Petit Joliet we saw nothing. We judged perforce that she had been moved early and carried to the other ship, which swung at anchor a little up the channel. We were able—I say we, though Marc did all, I being, as it were, drowned in my own dejection—we were able to be of service in divers instances. When, for example, young Violet was brought aboard with another boat-load from the chapel prison, we made haste to tell the guards that we had seen his mother and sisters taken to the other ship. As a consequence, when the boat went back to the wharf it carried young Violet; so he and his were not divided in their exile.

By the very next boat there came to us a black-browed, white-lipped woman, from whose dry eyes the tears seemed all drained out. She carried a babe-at-breast, while two thin little ones clung to her homespun skirt. As soon as she reached the deck she stared around in wild expectation, as if she thought to find her husband waiting to receive her. Not seeing him, she straightway fainted in a heap. It chanced I knew the woman’s face. She was the wife of one Caspar Besnard, of Pereau, 210whom I had seen taken, early in the day, to the other ship. He was conspicuous by reason of having red hair, a marvel in Acadie; and therefore my memory had retained him, though he concerned me not. Now, however, he did concern me much. A few words to the officer of the guard, and the poor woman, with her children, was transferred to where she doubtless found her husband.

Such cases justified, in our jailers’ eyes, the favour that had been shown us. Meanwhile our ship had filled up. We had seen Long Philibert and La Mouche brought aboard, but had not spoken with them. “Time for that later,” Marc had said. I had watched for Petit Joliet’s mother; and I had watched eagerly for old Mother Pêche; but in vain. While yet the boats were plying, heavy laden, between the shore and the other ship, we found ourselves ready for departure. Our boats were swung aboard; and the English Yeo, heave ho! arose as the sailors shoved on the capstan. Lieutenant Waldron, after an all but wordless farewell, went ashore in the gig with two soldiers. The rest of the red-coats stayed aboard. They had been re?nforced by a fresh squad who were marched down late to the landing. These, plainly, were to be our guard during the voyage; and I saw with a sort of vague resentment that a tall, foppish exquisite of an officer, known to me by sight, was to command this guard. 211He was one Lieutenant Shafto, whom we had seen two or three times at the chapel prison; and I think all disliked him for a certain elaborate loftiness in his air. It came to my mind dimly that I should well rejoice to cross swords with him, and I hinted as much to Marc.

“Who knows?” said my unruffled cousin; “we may live to see him look less complacent.” His smile had a meaning which I could not fathom. I could see no ground for his sanguine satisfaction; and I dared not question where some enemy might overhear. I thought no more of it, therefore, but relapsed into my apathy. As we slipped down the tide I saw, in a boat-load just approaching the other ship, a figure with a red shawl wrapped round head and shoulders. This gave me a pang, as I had hoped to have Mother Pêche with me, to talk to me of Yvonne and help me to build up the refuge of a credulous hope. But since even that was denied me—well, it was nothing, after all, and I was a child! I turned my eyes upon the house, far up the ridge, where the Lamouries had lodging. It was one of four, standing well aloof from the rest of the village; and I knew they all were occupied by those prudent ones of the neighbourhood who had been wise in time and now stood safe in English favour. The doom of Grand Pré, I knew, would turn aside from them.

212But on the emptied and desolated village it was even now descending. Marc and I, unnoticed in our place, were free to watch. So dire was even yet the confusion on our deck, so busy seamen and soldiers alike, that we were quite forgotten for a time. The early winter dark was gathering upon Blomidon and the farther hills; but there was to be no dark that night by the mouth of Gaspereau.

The house of Petit Joliet, upon the hill, burned long alone. It was perhaps a signal to the troops at Piziquid, twenty miles away, telling them that the work at Grand Pré was done. Not till late in the afternoon was the torch set to the village itself. Then smoke arose suddenly on the westernmost outskirts, toward the Habitants dyke. The wind being from the southeast, the fire spread but slowly against it. As the smoke drove low the flames started into more conspicuous brilliance, licking lithely over and under the rolling cloud that strove to smother them. These empty houses burned for the most part with a clear, light flame; but the barns, stored with hay and straw, vomited angry red, streaked with black. Up the bleak hillside ran the terrified cattle, with wildly tossing horns. At times, even on shipboard, we caught their bellowings. They had been turned loose, of course, before the fires were started, but had remained huddled in the familiar barnyards until this horrible and inexplicable cataclysm drove 213them forth. Far up the slope we saw them turn and stand at gaze.

In an hour we observed that the wharf was empty, and the other ship hoisting sail. Then the fires sprang up in every part of the village at once. They ran along the main street below the chapel; but they came not very near the chapel itself, for all the buildings in its immediate neighbourhood............