A Silver Lining
From Acadie to Louisiana
by
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Pigiguit, Acadie, Winter 1750
Cold air swirled around the room as Papa rushed in. “Allons! Vite! (Come on! Hurry!) We must leave. Now! The moon is hidden by clouds so it’s dark enough for us to get away without being seen. Follow me quietly, one at a time into the woods.”
Gregoire and Anne picked up their bundles of clothes, as I glanced around one last time. The house that I loved, where I had lived all of my nine years, looked as sad and lonely as I felt. There was no warm, crackling fire in the fireplace and only a lingering smell of fresh, hot bread and Maman’s vegetable soup. The beds were bare. Maman’s loom, always next to the fireplace, was gone. There was nothing on the table on the other side of the fireplace: no pots, dishes, food, or candles to show that a family lived there.
“Will we come home again, Papa?” I asked.
“Je ne sais pas, ma petite Pelagie. (I don’t know, my little Pelagie.) We can only hope and pray that France and England settle their problems so we can live in peace once again.”
There was another blast of cold air as Papa opened the door, picked up Marie Josephe, and followed Gregoire and Anne into the woods. Maman whispered, “Allons, Pelagie, allons,” then walked through the door carrying two-year-old Daniel, who was sound asleep. I knew I should follow Maman but I couldn't move. I opened my mouth to call her, but nothing came out. I looked around one last time, took a deep breath, and left the only home I had ever known.
I stood for several minutes in the shadow of the house. Looking. Listening. Everything was quiet. Nothing moved.
I wished I could stand there forever, breathing in the sweet scent of the land and the clean night air. Pulling my cloak closer, I ran behind the house past the vegetable garden, past the empty barns, and through the fruit orchard with its bare trees, until I reached the woods. I held my breath.
No one was there. Had they left without me?
For a moment the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Several men stood near the edge of the woods, watching me. Were they English soldiers waiting to grab me and throw me in jail? Should I run back to the house? I couldn't scream. I couldn't move.
Then I heard Papa whisper, “Pelagie, viens ici (come here).”
I hurried over to hug him. “Oh, Papa, I was so scared!”
His arms tightened around me.
Maman rushed over. “I thought you were right behind me. I was so worried when I reached the woods without you.”
Then I recognized the other men: Oncle Paul, Oncle Charles, and Oncle Abraham. More people stood deeper in the woods, motionless, not making a sound. Some of them stood beside dragging trains loaded with furniture and household goods. Almost everyone was there: Grand’maman Elizabeth, Tante Angélique, Tante Madeleine, Tante Anne, and lots of cousins. Altogether my three uncles had twenty-one children, and Oncle Paul had a newborn grandson. The only ones missing were my oldest male cousins, who had gone ahead of us with the farm animals.
Even the youngest children were as still as the night animals that lived in the woods—animals that were probably watching us.
Oncle Paul looked around. “It’s time to go.”
Papa said, “Walk through the woods without making a sound, the way our friends the Mi’kmaq Indians do. We can’t let anyone hear us, so we won’t talk. Don’t even whisper. Our lives could depend on this.”
There was nothing I could do except walk silently through the woods and pray. So I made every step a prayer that someday we would come home again.
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About the Book
This is the story of a real family.
After years of unrest and threats of deportation by the English, in 1750 a number of Acadian families flee from their prosperous wheat farms in Acadie (renamed Nova Scotia by the English), to live in French-controlled Île Saint-Jean (Prince Edward Island). For nine-year-old Pelagie Benoist, this is the beginning of almost thirty-five years of displacement and searching for a place to call home.
After five difficult years in Île Saint-Jean, Pelagie’s family moves to the Fortress of Louisbourg on Ile Royale. They live a very different life in this fortified town, which has a busy port and a thriving fishing industry. Their peaceful existence ends when war is officially declared between France and England in the spring of 1756. The civilians inside the fortress can only wait, knowing the English will attack.
Louisbourg is captured by the English in 1758, and all Acadians are deported to France. After twenty-six years of wandering, hardship, and suffering, including the loss of many loved ones, Pelagie finally has a chance to move to Louisiana. Will this be the home she’s been searching for? Or will it be one more disappointment?
“A very moving and compelling piece.”
—Anne Marie Lane Jonah, historian at the Fortress of Louisbourg, Louisbourg, Nova Scotia, Canada.
“I really enjoyed reading the manuscript and I congratulate you for this wonderful contribution to our common history and heritage.”
—Maurice Basque, scientific advisor, Institut d’Études Acadiennes, Université de Moncton, Moncton, New Brunswick, Canada.
About the Author
Ollie Ann Porche Voelker is a retired teacher and educational diagnostician whose interest in genealogy led her to write A Silver Lining. She is a descendant of several Acadian families who were deported from Nova Scotia, including the Benoists. Ollie lives with her husband in a suburb of New Orleans.