08:52 (Paris Time)
Tuesday, June 16, 1654
Harbor of La Rochelle
Atlantic coast of France
The clerk sitting at a small table set on the quay in front of the three-mast cargo ship ‘L’ARC-EN-CIEL’ watched with curiosity a large chariot approach him. Driven by a mature man, the chariot carried as well three men and three women, along with a goodly number of wooden chests, canvas bags and a few wooden kegs and barrels. The driver stopped his chariot in front of the ramp giving access to the ship, with the men and women jumping down except for two of them, who stayed aboard to start passing down the luggage and barrels in the chariot. The clerk was soon joined by the captain of the ship, who eyed critically the newcomers before going to their apparent leader, a tall man in his thirties. The latter saw him approach and turned around to tip his hat to the captain.
“Good morning, Captain. I hope that we are neither too early nor too late.”
“You are just fine as timing goes, Monsieur Bonnet. As you can see, your whaler boat was winched aboard and stored on deck yesterday, as you requested.”
The said Bonnet glanced briefly at the nine meter boat lashed to the weather deck of the cargo ship and nodded with satisfaction.
“Excellent! With all the luggage my group is bringing, that boat will be mighty useful to get us from Quebec to Ville-Marie. Talking of luggage, could I abuse the muscles of your sailors in order to store all this between decks? You can tell them that I will be distributing a few deniers in compensation.”
The captain laughed briefly then and grinned to Bonnet.
“You just said the right words to wake up those lazy bastards, Monsieur Bonnet.”
A few shouted words from the captain then made eight sailors run down the access ramp and start hauling aboard the group’s possession. The captain patted one of the wooden barrels as it was being rolled past him and up the ramp.
“I see that you brought your own travel provisions with you, monsieur.”
Bonnet shrugged then while smiling to him.
“Why travel across the ocean while living solely on sea biscuits and salted fish? Let’s say that I like setting a good table.”
“You will probably make the other seven passengers I have jealous, monsieur: all peasants, including five young women and girls, and as poor as they come.”
Bonnet’s smile faded somewhat at those words, his jovial air replaced by a look of concern.
“If they are in need, we will be more than happy to help them out. Are those seven others aboard yet?”
“No! I am expecting them between now and noon. You should have plenty of time to store away all your things before they show up. You talk like a good Christian, monsieur.”
“Hey,” said Bonnet, a smile returning to his face, “one can be a merchant and businessman and still be a good Christian, even if that’s rare.”
The captain roared in laughter with Bonnet, then walked back on his ship to supervise the storing away of the cargo.
As soon as the chariot was completely unloaded, Bonnet dismissed the chariot’s driver, giving him a gold coin, then went with his five companions to see the clerk still sitting at his table. The latter grabbed his pen and opened his ink bottle and bowed politely his head at Bonnet.
“Good morning, monsieur. May I have your name, occupation and destination?”
“Certainly, my good man! I am Fernand Bonnet, merchant and businessman on my way to New France to open an inn in Ville-Marie. I am from Tours.”
Bonnet then passed his right arm around the waist of one of the women, a pretty brunette in her mid-twenties.
“This is my wife, Claudette Bussière, who will help me run my inn.”
The clerk noted down their two names and occupations, then looked up at another couple that had approached his table. The man was tall and athletic and looked like he could be a tough customer indeed, while the young blonde beauty besides him could have made most men mad with desire.
“And you are?”
“Henri Bruage and Françoise Vinier. I am an associate of Fernand Bonnet, apart from being a handyman. Françoise will work at our future inn as a maid. We are from Strasbourg, in Alsace.”
The Alsatian couple was followed by the younger man of the group, who was however as fit-looking as the two other men. His clothes showed that he was not as wealthy as the two others.
“My name is Michel Lorrain. I am a hunter and am working for Monsieur Bonnet. I will provide venison and furs to his inn. I am from Haguenau, in Alsace.”
The clerk nodded his head at that while scribbling down that information. To have a professional hunter at your service while maintaining an inn in such a wild country as New France made a lot of sense. On the other hand, if all the stories about the ferocious local inhabitants were true, that young man was going to have one dangerous job indeed. The last person of the group turned out to be by far the most interest. Nearly as tall as Henri Bruage and apparently as athletic as him, the young woman was beautiful and sported long black hair. She was dressed in a simple enough dress, linen cap and soft leather shoes but those clothes were brand new. Even more, a large hunting knife and a pistol were holstered from her belt, which also supported a large leather purse, a water bottle and a gunpowder flask. Her tone of voice was friendly enough but the clerk understood that this girl would not stand for any nonsense.
“I am Nancy Laplante, born in New France. I am employed by Monsieur Bonnet as a guide and translator.”
“You were born in New France, mademoiselle?” Said the clerk, frankly surprised. This had to be the first native from across the ocean he had ever met. On second look, the girl did have a deep tan and had the look of an outdoors person.
“My grandmother was an Amerindian.” Replied laconically the girl. The clerk let it at that and scribbled her name in his registry. As the three men and three women were grabbing their personal bags and bedrolls to board the ship, two teenage girls dressed in near rags and carrying each a small bundle showed up at the registry table. One was around eighteen, the other maybe fourteen. The older one then spoke anxiously to the clerk.
“Is this the ship for Quebec, monsieur?”
“It is! Do you have a place reserved aboard?”
“Yes! Me and Marie signed a contract with the Notre-Dame Society to go to New France and find husbands there.”
“And your name is?” Said patiently the clerk, accustomed to deal with poor peasants who had never traveled far before.
“Catherine…Catherine Lorion, from Saint-Soulle.
The clerk wrote that down, then looked at the younger girl, a pitiful-looking and thin one.
“And you, my child?”
“Marie Renaud, monsieur. I am from Saint-Paul d’Orléans.”
“Very well! You are both in fact on the list of expected passengers and your passage and rations for your trip have already been paid by the Notre-Dame Society. In return, I have to remind you that your are both expected to find a husband in Ville-Marie within a reasonable delay.”
“And once in New France, where do we stay? Who will feed us?” Asked in a tiny, timid voice Marie Renaud. The clerk shrugged his shoulders in answer.
“That I don’t know, mademoiselle. I believe that there are some nuns in Quebec. If you run into trouble, you can always go see them, I guess.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Suddenly declared the tall Nancy Laplante, who had listened to the exchange and had approached the table discreetly. She then draped her arms around the shoulders of both poor girls. “I will make sure that they arrive safely in Ville-Marie.”
“Uh, you should ask your employer first about that, mademoiselle.” Said the clerk, not accustomed to see a girl take decisions like this. As if he had heard him, Fernand Bonnet came as well to the table and, after whispering with Laplante, faced the clerk.
“Nancy was correct, monsieur. My group will protect and provide for those two girls until we arrive in Ville-Marie.”
“As you wish, monsieur.” Could only reply the clerk. Bonnet and Laplante then escorted Marie Renaud and Catherine Lorion up the access ramp, presenting them next to the four other members of their group. Still unable to believe her luck, Catherine Lorion eyed the six strangers, all taller and stronger than the average person in France.
“Why such generosity towards us? You don’t know us and we have nothing.”
“Wrong on one count, Catherine.” Replied Fernand Bonnet while smiling to her. “You now have a job at my future inn as a maid if you accept it. I offer food, lodging, basic clothing and three sols a day. The same goes for you, Marie.”
The younger girl couldn’t help shed tears then, so unexpected this was.
“Why do you help us like this, monsieur? We are strangers to you.”
“But you are also good Christian girls in need, which is enough for me.”
Claudette Bussière, who was looking out towards the quay, then smiled and spoke to her husband.
“How many maids are you ready to take in, Fernand? I see two more prospects approaching the ship.”
All heads snapped in that direction and targeted two young women in poor, tattered clothes heading towards the table of the registrar clerk. Next thing Catherine knew, Fernand Bonnet was walking down the access ramp, returning a few minutes later with the two newcomer girls.
“Say hello to Mesdemoiselles Marie Lorgueil and Jeanne Rousselier, guys!”
A new round of introduction was then made, after which the four destitute girls were led by Claudette Bussière to a quiet corner of the ship’s deck, where she spoke to them in a low voice.
“Look, girls. Some of you may be wondering about this being too good to be true, so I will tell you what we are about. Me, my husband and our four associates are heading to Ville-Marie to open an inn there. I understand that there are none there at the moment so competition will not hurt our business. On the other hand, a good inn needs a fair number of hands to run it properly. Michel Lorrain and Nancy Laplante will be busy most of the time hunting, fishing and trapping to provide fresh food and furs to our inn, while Henri Bruage will take care of the building’s maintenance and of constructing more annexes as we go, so that left only me, Fernand and Françoise free to work inside the inn. Believe me, your help will be more than appreciated. Now, you may have heard some awful stories about traveling conditions on ships, which are mostly true. However, we have brought some provisions of our own to supplement the ship’s reserves, so at least the food won’t be that bad. Our biggest problem will probably be personal hygiene, due to the lack of facilities on ships. Me and my husband are however experienced travelers and have some tips that should help you stay healthy. If you all follow our counsels, then your trip should be bearable.”
“Mon Dieu, madame, you make it sound as if such trips are like traveling to Hell.” Exclaimed Jeanne Rousselier. Claudette eyed her somberly.
“They could be, for the travelers who don’t know what they do. Now, let’s see what kind of quarters we will live into on this ship.
Followed by the four girls and enlisting the guidance of a senior sailor, Claudette then went down one deck to a dark, stinking space where a number of rickety wooden bunk beds were lined up. The head clearance was also strictly limited, adding to the claustrophobic nature of the passengers’ quarters. Claudette, using a lantern to help her see around, folded away one of the straw mattresses of the bunk beds and swore when she saw a number of crawling insects that had been lying under and on the mattress.
“Damn! Lices! This is a nice start indeed.”
She then turned to face the senior sailor, showing him the critters.
“Hasn’t this ship been washed and scrubbed after its last trip?”
“Of course it was!” Lied the sailor. “We however can’t guarantee that vermin will not come back while at quay.”
“Great!” Said Claudette, who then sighed. “Alright, girls, we will have to initiate a complete scrub down of our quarters. First, though, we get rid of those infested mattresses.”
“What do you mean, madame?” Said the sailor, suddenly alarmed. “You are not going to thrown away all those mattresses? They belong to the ship’s owner.”
Claudette gave him a no nonsense look.
“Maybe we should bring them to the house of your ship owner, monsieur. Don’t worry, though: we will simply pile them somewhere away from our quarters. First, I will have to go buy some cleaning stuff in town before departure.”
True to her word, Claudette went off the ship at once with Françoise Vinier and Henri Bruage, returning one hour later with two kegs of vinegar, extra buckets, mops and brushes. By then, another teenage girl and two young peasant men had joined the other passengers of the ship. While Jeanne Merrin, Jacques Morin and Jean Simon proved to be as poor as the four single girls that had first arrived after Bonnet’s group, they were seemingly good people and connected well with the others. All of them, including Fernand Bonnet, then worked hard to clean the passengers quarters and make them as livable as possible, which was still not much. They ate collectively lunch out of a pot of pork and vegetable stew Claudette went to buy at a nearby inn, washed down with cider, then resumed their cleaning work until the ship undid its mooring lines and started moving from the quay. All the passengers then lined up on the weather deck to have one last look at France. Seeing young Marie Renaud quietly crying as the ship left port, Nancy went to her and gently wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on the girl’s head.
“Don’t cry, Marie. You may be leaving France for good but you are about to find a new, fascinating country.”
“But I know nothing about that country and I’m scared.” Wailed Marie before turning around to face Nancy and clinging to her, tears on her young face. “I also don’t know what kind of man I will meet there, if he will be kind or mean with me.”
“Marie,” said Nancy softly, “if it can reassure you, know that I was born in New France and that I know it well. I can tell you about it.”
“You…you were born there?” Said in a strangled voice Marie, looking up with surprise at her. Nancy nodded once while smiling.
“Yes, I was. My father was a trapper and his own mother was an Amerindian.”
“An Amerindian?”
“The correct name for the original local inhabitants. ”
“Please, tell me more.” Pleaded Marie, her tears drying somewhat. Nancy patted her back.
“I will, later. I might as well tell my stories to all our group, so that all could learn about New France. Now, let’s keep watching France one last time together.”
07:22 (Paris Time)
Thursday, July 16, 1654
L’ARC-EN-CIEL, middle of the Atlantic
Françoise Vinier, a.k.a. Frida Winterer, stepped out of her bunk in the dark. The way the ship was rolling and the pounding noise of the waves told her that the sea was rough today, again. With the rare skylights closed tight to prevent seawater from pouring in, the stench of the crowded compartment was too much for her. She could barely stand herself by now as well, being mostly unwashed for a month and wearing day and night the same dirty clothes. She had tried at first to wash at least her underwear with seawater but had then quickly developed painful rashes from the salt left in them, which had started to rub against her groin and inner legs, so that solution towards staying clean had gone out the window quite fast. Swearing to herself, Frida grabbed her cape and found her way in the dark to the steep ladder leading up to the open deck. The fresh sea wind that greeted her was like perfume for her compared to the stale air in the passengers quarters. She found Fernand Bonnet, a.k.a. Fernand Brunet, her ‘husband’ Henri Bruage, a.k.a. Henrik Braun, Nancy Laplante, Catherine Lorion, Jeanne Rousselier and Marie Renaud already on deck, watching the rising Sun and the sea. Joining them at the ship’s side, Frida watched for a moment the sea with them, finally looking at Fernand.
“Is Claudette up yet?”
“Yes, she is. She just went to the ship’s galley to get our rations of sea biscuits and water for our breakfast.”
Frida wrinkled her nose at that: the so-called fresh water had been on the brown side lately. Soon they would be down mostly to cider, beer and the occasional cup of wine. Claudette Bussière, a.k.a. Claudette Besson, then came back on the weather deck, a pile of large biscuits and a jug of water with a cup overturned on top of it in her hands. Her companions took one biscuit each and were about to bite in them when young Marie looked wide-eyed in horror at her biscuit and threw it on the deck.
“It…it’s full of maggots!”
Frida froze immediately, her mouth open and a biscuit in front of her face. Examining her own biscuit, she saw with a jump of her stomach a few small white maggots moving on it. Nancy Laplante ‘B’, all of eighteen years old now, then attempted a sick joke, beaming and exclaiming with false joy.
“Goodie! Proteins!”
She then bit heartily in her biscuit, making Jeanne Rousselier and Marie Renaud turn green. Frida gave a dubious look to Nancy as Jeanne ran to the ship’s side to throw up. Frida knew that Nancy’s spirit had once been that of a British boy named James Sommers, who had served at the end of this century as a ship’s boy on a Royal Navy frigate and thus had extensive experience of life at sea, but her joke was still hard to swallow.
“Nancy, stuff it!”
“Well, that’s what I am doing!” Protested Nancy, her mouth full. Fernand smiled to her while presenting her the pitcher of water and the cup.
“Well, if you like sea rations so much, how about being the first to drink today’s water, Nancy?”
“Sure!” Replied the tall teenager. She then pulled out a handkerchief and placed it over the top of the cup, holding it there as a filtering membrane while pouring herself a cup of water from the pitcher. Frida looked with disgust at the maggots now twisting and moving on top of the handkerchief and turned green. The water in the cup was also brownish in color.
“We…we are not going to drink this, are we?”
Nancy, now most serious, looked at her companions with resignation.
“This is the only water available for the rest of our trip, my friends. I know that this is disgusting but we can’t drink only beer and cider for another month, or we will dehydrate.”
Then giving the example, Nancy pinched her nose and drank her cup of water quickly. The horrible grimace she made did nothing to encourage her friends, but they all drank their water in turn, with Nancy’s hidden headband camera filming their reactions. Frida beat her chest once to make the water pass, her stomach churning around in protest.
“God, this is vile! I will never make a good sailor.”
“You haven’t eaten your biscuit yet, Françoise.” Nancy then reminded her. “Just knock your biscuit hard a couple of times against the deck: it will make most of the maggots fall out.”
Throwing Nancy a murderous look, Frida did do as she had been told, knocking her biscuit a few times and then biting in it while closing her eyes. Surprisingly, the taste was not really bad. Her surprised expression as she munched on her biscuit made Nancy ‘B’ beam at her.
“You see? It ain’t as bad as it looks.”
“Claudette, do you have a frying pan nearby with which I can beat Nancy on the head?”
Frida’s retort made young Marie laugh just as she had swallowed her water ration.
“You girls are crazy!”
“Of course we are!” Replied Nancy with a big grin. Shouting a whoop, she jumped up and did a full back flip, landing upright on the deck with the grace of a cat. Everybody then broke out in laughter, including the few sailors and the captain present on the deck. With the spirits now back up, Claudette searched in a little purse hooked to her belt and produced a few orange pills.
“Well, how about some fruit-flavored candies to make you forget the taste of that water?”
“Yes, I like them!” Exclaimed Marie, eagerly taking one orange-flavored vitamin C pill and chewing it down. Claudette had been distributing such vitamin pills at intervals, passing them as candies, in order to avoid cases of scurvy on their ship. After they had all chewed on their ‘candies’, Nancy looked at her travel companions while smiling.
“How about some more lessons in Algonquin language and customs to keep us busy?”
“I suppose that it beats scrubbing decks.” Replied Jeanne Rousselier with little enthusiasm. Claudette, seeing the faked looked of indignation that came to Nancy’s face, slapped lightly her bum before she could say something.
“Come on, you tall boy chaser, we will pretend to listen to you. Right, girls?”
12:46 (Quebec Time)
Wednesday, August 5, 1654
Grand Banks, South of Newfoundland
“LAND! LAND!”
The yell from the topside lookout made the passengers and crewmembers not already on the weather deck rush out through the deck hatches.
“At last!” Exclaimed happily Jeanne Rousselier as she stared at the brown line on the horizon. “We will soon be able to get off this damn ship.”
“Yes, that and finally be able to wash.” Replied Claudette Bussière, standing besides her along with Françoise Vinier and Catherine Lorion. Françoise scratched her head vigorously, trying to get rid of some of the lice infesting her hair.
“I hate this! It’s making me crazy!”
Claudette looked at her sympathetically: every passenger on the ship had been infested by lice and other parasites for the last two weeks despite all their precautions and scrubbing. That was probably thanks to their contacts with the sailors of the crew, who had been infested from the start of the trip and had passed on their parasites to the passengers.
“Be patient, Françoise. Once in Quebec and off this parasite box we will be able to boil our clothes and thoroughly delouse ourselves.”
Catherine Lorion then cut in hesitantly.
“What do we do when we have no spare clothes to wear while our clothes are being cleaned?”
By the expression on Jeanne Rousselier’s face, Françoise could guess that she was in the same predicament as Catherine.
“Don’t worry, Catherine. You too, Jeanne. Me and Claudette can lend you something to wear once in Quebec.”
Instead of replying with words, Catherine started crying quietly, prompting Claudette to come close to her.
“What’s wrong, Catherine?”
The teenager shook her head slowly then.
“Nothing is wrong. It is just that nobody has been this nice to me in a very long time.”
“Catherine,” replied softly Claudette, “I am sure that a nice girl like you will find a kind man to marry in Ville-Marie. In the meantime, let’s watch our new country together.”
A few minutes later, both Michel Lorrain and Nancy Laplante went briefly down to the passengers compartment, to return topside with fishing rods in their hands. The others watched them stick pieces of meat on their hooks and then throw their lines over the side, with Jeanne Rousselier going to Nancy, curious.
“Uh, why are you confident that this would be a good time and place to fish, Nancy? I didn’t see the sailors of our ship fish yet during our trip.”
“First, Jeanne, the sailors on this ship are on the lazy side, if you haven’t noticed. Second, this is the Grand Banks, the richest cod grounds in the World. Also, with the low speed we are traveling at now because of the weak wind, our ship’s wake is not strong enough to disturb the fish around us. I thus have a good hope that…”
A sudden jerk on her fishing line then interrupted her and made her pull up her rod.
“I think that I have one already! Hold firmly my fishing rod while I pull in my line, quick!”
Nancy handed Jeanne her rod only after grabbing with one hand the fishing line, not trusting Jeanne’s strength at this time. She then pulled quickly on her line with both hands until she grabbed and threw on the deck the biggest fish Jeanne had ever seen.
“My God, what is that?”
“A Grand Banks cod. FRANÇOISE, GRAB MY CATCH AND GUT IT WHILE I TRY FOR ANOTHER ONE.”
Reacting speedily, her companion took out the knife she was always wearing at her belt and stuck it in the 150 centimeter-long cod, then expertly gutted it while it was still thrashing around. In the time it took her to do that, Michel Lorrain had also caught and pulled in a big cod, while Nancy’s line was back overboard. Two sailors ran to help, gutting the second fish as Nancy was already pulling out a third fish. Under the disbelieving eyes of Jeanne, Catherine and now Marie Renaud and Marie Lorgueil, Nancy and Michel ended up catching nine big cods before they decided that they had more than enough to feed well everyone in the ship for supper and stopped their fishing. Jean Simon, the young peasant land clearer, came on the deck as the nine cods were being proudly lined up by Nancy and Michel in front of an ecstatic ship’s cook. The young man looked at the fish with wide eyes.
“Tudieu! If the trees of New France are as big as those fish are, then I will have one tough job ahead of me.”
“They are, Jean.” Replied Nancy. You will see that soon.”
The next days saw the passengers stare tirelessly at both coasts of the Saint-Laurent River, marveling at the thick, ever-present forests and at the rich animal and marine life visible around them. Jean Simon in particular seemed enthusiastic about the land he was now admiring.
“This is the richest land I have seen yet in my life. We should be able to make a good living out of it.”
The big ploughman, Jacques Morin, standing besides him against the guardrail, nodded his head in approval.
“The first years will make for hard work, what with all those trees to clear first, but it will be worth it. We certainly will have all the wood we will ever need. As for fishing and hunting, this land seems to be made for that.”
“They say that there is good money to be made with the fur trade.”
“You can try it if you want, Jean. There is no way I’m running around those woods, not with those blood-thirsty savages that are killing our people living in those same woods.”
Jean looked nervously around at those words, then spoke back to Jacques in a low voice.
“Be careful about that. We have one of those savages traveling with us, remember?”
“Ha! Nancy, a savage? Come on, Jean! Yes, she was born here but she still is French.”
“What about all her knowledge about the local savages? She didn’t pick that up while living with Frenchmen. She said herself that her grandmother was a savage.”
“Jean, you should know Nancy better than that by now. Now, relax and just enjoy the view.”
10:16 (Quebec Time)
Monday, August 10, 1654
Quebec Harbor, New France
The passengers were greeted on the quay by a crowd of curious onlookers as they walked down the access ramp of l’ARC-EN-CIEL. The crowd was predominantly male, with the female passengers being immediately targeted for close visual scrutiny. There were more than a few admiring gasps on the passage of Françoise Vinier and of Nancy Laplante. A nobleman and his retinue of followers who were waiting on the quay saluted them, bowing down and waiving their wide felt hats.
“Welcome to New France, good people! I am Jean de Lauzon, Governor of this colony.”
Françoise, who was in the lead with her husband Henri, made a curtsy and smiled to the governor.
“Thank you, Your Excellency. You will excuse us if we stay out of flee-jumping range from you and your officers.”
The governor laughed and smiled back to her.
“Your attention is commendable, madame. Since you must be anxious to clean up and rest after such an arduous trip, I will not delay you and your companions further. My Aide will escort you to an inn at once. Do not worry about your heavier baggage: soldiers will be posted on this quay overnight to protect your ship from any possible thieves.”
“You are too kind, Your Excellency. It was truly an honor to meet you.”
Françoise, like the other women and girls, curtsied again before following the governor’s aide, the rest of the passengers in tow. Jean de Lauzon, spotting the captain of l’ARC-EN-CIEL on the quay, signaled him to join him. The merchant marine officer came at a run, bowing deeply and waiving his hat once in front of him.
“Captain, I was led to believe that we could expect more passengers from your ship.”
The tone of the governor’s voice clearly showed his displeasure, making the captain reply meekly.
“I know, Your Excellency. Unfortunately, a nu