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The Marin Family Chronicles--Volume 1-Book 1

The Venturers by Charles O. Goulet

Chapter One -- The Arrival

    Pierre slipped his hand into Francoise's sturdy, firm one and squeezed it gently.  She turned her tanned face toward him and smiled tentatively; her dark brown hair fell in shimmering cascades over her shoulders, and a hint of sadness, which Pierre did not miss, shadowed her hazel eyes.
    "It's changed," he muttered.
    "Well, it's different from the way I imagined it."
    "Three years does make a difference, I suppose."
    He stared at the tiny settlement on the south shore of the large bay that the three ships entered earlier that day.  His piercing blue eyes rove over the low landscape before him; he too was disappointed by what he saw.  The square, hewn-log fort looked dilapidated and forlorn, as if it was abandoned recently.
    Francoise tugged at his arm and pointed to the left.  A ship with its sails furled lay at anchor several hundred yards east of the log pier that jutted into the shore water before the palisaded fort that rose immediately behind it.
    "That's an English privateer, probably from Boston."
    "Will they cause trouble?" she asked, an intimation of anxiety in her voice.
    "No, I don't think so," he replied confidently, but he was not sure.  Since Acadia was returned to France three years before by the Treaty of Breda of 1667, which ended the Second Dutch War, the New England governor, Sir William Temple of Boston, refused to cede authority to the French.  The ship anchored in the bay, no doubt, was one of his.
    Pierre noted its armament: It carried twenty-six 24-pounders, a formidable array for a ship that was not a warship.  Although the gunports were open, there seemed to be little activity on the decks of the alien ship.
    The crew of their ship, the barque, "Le Cygne", scurried about as they brought it to anchor before the pier. The flap of sails being furled, the smell of tar from the treated lines, the creak of the wooden blocks, reminded Pierre of the time he spent in France's Royal Navy.
    "Will we be disembarking soon?" Francoise asked, the merriment of her personality returning to her voice.
    "There's no hurry.  I'm sure there'll be a great deal of excitement among the others.  Everyone's in a hurry to leave.  It's been a long voyage, and like you, most of them aren't accustomed to sea life.  So they'll be in a hurry to go ashore.  We'll take our time and be more comfortable."
    She nodded in agreement.  The journey from Le Havre, the great seaport of France and her home town, was not a pleasant one for her.  She was seasick for the first half of the voyage, and it was only in the past two weeks that she returned to her customary cheerfulness and good health.
    Pierre wrapped his right arm about her waist and drew her close.  As he felt her warm tenderness and firm bosom press against him, a surge of passion and a quickening of his pulse excited him.  His wife of just a few months awakened in him a lust that was hard to satisfy on the crowded ship during the recent passage.  He envisaged a private compartment ashore, and he pressed her tighter to him.  She, sensing his arousal, pushed him away slightly, indicating that the time was inappropriate.  His public display of affection and ardour embarrassed her.  Although they had been married only a few months, he understood her, so he dropped his arm.
    Pierre noticed the wry smile of a sailor who was watching them.  The man stared unabashedly at Francoise; his mocking grey eyes wandered over her ripe and pliant body.  Pierre saw the desire and lust there; anger and jealousy surged through him.
    The mate shouted to the man who turned back to the line that he was belaying.  A nagging feeling of apprehension seized Pierre; with difficulty, he shook it off.
    Francoise also became aware of the sailor's interest, and she whispered to Pierre, "I don't like that man.  He's stared at me many times during the voyage...but he's not spoken to me.  He acts as if he knows me, but he hasn't bothered me."
    Pierre shrugged his shoulders.  "Ah, he's just a woman-hungry sailor.  He'll find a willing woman ashore.  Perhaps one of the native girls--for a colourful handkerchief--will satisfy his desires."
    "You're a man of experience," she teased as she dug him sharply in the ribs with her elbow.
    He was silent a moment, then replied, "When I was in the navy in the Antilles, most of the sailors found willing partners among the native girls.  I'm sure there are many here as well."
    "Were there many when you were last here?" she badgered, half seriously.
    "We didn't get shore leave when I was here in '67."
    "But maybe the girls came aboard," she persisted. She grew up in Le Havre, one of the largest seaports of France, and her father owned a tavern not far from the waterfront; she was not ignorant of the ways of sailors and seamen.  She met Pierre in her father's tavern while he was serving with the French navy.
    "If they did, I didn't partake of their pleasures."
    She laughed; even though it was the truth, he was not sure she believed him.
    Pierre recalled his first visit to Port Royal in the summer of 1667.  His squadron, which had been in the Caribbean on manoeuvres against the English to protect French interests in the Antilles, was ordered back to France, and they sailed up the New England coast with a stop at Port Royal to reprovision.
    The beauty of the surrounding countryside impressed him then.  The small fort, before which they were now anchored, interested him.  The English garrison--for it was occupied by the English then--kept it well-maintained and in good repair.
    He, as an ordinary sailor, was not allowed shore leave for fear of an incident.  He loaded provisions which the commander purchased from the few French farmers who stayed during the English occupation and who still cultivated the fertile sea marshes along the shores.  They loaded vegetables and meats of various sorts.  Since it was late in the summer, the gardens and crops were coming to maturity; Pierre was surprised at the quality and quantity of the produce.  Although the colonists were under the English flag, they appeared contented and free.  This surprised Pierre, for as a sailor he had heard of the barbarity of the English and the atrocities they committed in the Antilles.
    Around the fort he saw many Indians who, he noted, were more friendly to the French colonists than to the English traders and sailors, yet the peaceful serenity of the small colony affected him.
    Francoise's voice brought him from his reverie.  "Are you still tasting their charms?" she scolded.
    "Enough, my love.  We must get ready for our great adventure.  Then I'll taste your charms, my sweet."
    She smiled coquettishly and slapped his face gently.
    As they assembled and prepared their small pile of belongings for the move to shore, Pierre joked and helped his fellow passengers with their meager possessions.  He knew all twenty-eight fellow adventurers by name, but he and Francoise were so wrapped up in each other that they made little attempt to get to know them intimately.  There were two young couples: Joseph and Marie Bergeron, Jacques and Louise Leblanc, and an older couple with three rambunctious children--a boy, about ten years old, and two girls, one about eight years old and the other, five years old.  Francoise told him, for one day she got into a conversation with the harried mother.  The remainder of the passengers were men, some single, but most married, who left their families in France while they came out to establish a home for them.  These he also knew by name, but, other than that, he knew little about them.
     The mother of the three children scurried about assembling their bundles, and then she grouped the children before her.  They were quiet and subdued and appeared a little apprehensive of the situation into which they were thrust.
    The mother called to her husband, "Albert, are you sure that you got all our things?"
    "Adelaide, quiet down.  Yes, I got everything.  There's no need to be concerned.  If I didn't get them this time, there'll be time to get anything we missed later."
    Pierre was glad the wife called her husband by name, for he had momentarily forgotten it.  He approached the sturdily-built peasant of about forty years of age and asked, "Sir, can I help?"  His parents' teachings and his naval experience made him speak with deference to a person older than himself.
    "No one calls me 'sir'.  The name is Albert.  Thanks for your offer.  Perhaps you could hand the heavier bundles to me when I'm in the longboat.  They're a little heavy for the wife and the boy."
    "Certainly, Albert."
    "You and your wife seem to be very young to come out to this new land."
    "Well, I've just mustered out of the navy, where I served for four years, during the war against the Dutch and English."
    "I was in the army," Albert interrupted.
    "Did you see action?"
    "No, I was lucky.  My unit was always held in reserve.  But we won't talk about war.  The present's more interesting.  What are your plans?"
    "I hope to get a piece of land, as I was promised by our illustrious minister, Colbert.  The land's good here, and I'll prosper as a farmer."
    "I, the same, Pierre."
    Pierre was surprised the man knew his name, but, at the same time, he was flattered.
    Albert continued, "I've been assured of a concession on the grant of land that's been set aside for Captain Grandfontaine.  You know, I served under him in the war."
    Pierre said, "I'm to get my own grant of land, but the details haven't been worked out yet.  I'll have to see the captain as soon as possible to make the final arrangements."
    "The captain's a fine person, and I'm sure there'll be no problem.  He's an honourable man.  It was a pleasure to serve under him.  All his officers and men liked him."
    "I met him briefly before we boarded our ships at Le Havre.  He seems to be an agreeable fellow."
    As they conversed, they moved the baggage to the rail.  Now, Albert crawled down the rope ladder to the gently bobbing boat that was held to the side of the ship by four roughly attired crewmen.  Several people were already seated in the boat with their small accumulation of personal goods heaped about them.
    Pierre took the youngest child by the arm and helped her descend the awkward ladder to the waiting arms of her father and one of the sailors who stood at the base of it.  Each of the children dropped in turn into the swaying boat and were assigned a seat in the almost filled boat.  Pierre then took Adelaide, the wife, by the arm and guided her down the rope ladder to the waiting arms of the men below.  Just as the two men were about to grab her, an errant wave struck the boat, pushing it away from the side of the ship.  The woman screeched and slid through the narrow opening between the boat and the ship.  With a dull splash, she disappeared into the grey-blue waters.
    For a moment there was stunned silence as everyone watched the spot where she vanished.  Then shouts and cries mingled as the people milled about waiting for the woman to surface.
    Pierre stared at the area; if she surfaced, she would be crushed between the ship and the heavy longboat.  She would have to come up on the far side of the long boat, or at either end.  If she did not, she would, at the least, be seriously injured.  He saw a few accidents like that during his stint in the navy.
    She needed help.  He did not know if she could swim.  Unlikely, he thought.  Quickly he discarded his woollen shirt and heavy shoes, threw them to the deck beside Francoise, leaped to the rail, and plunged into the water before the bow of the longboat.
    Although the cold surprised him, he allowed his dive to bring him deeply into the water.  He could make out the dark outline of the longboat, and the hull of the ship shadowed the water making visibility difficult.  Slowly he swam underwater to the spot where he thought she would be.
    He searched for any sign of the woman, but all he saw was swirling grey water.  He swam the length of the longboat using a powerful breast stroke.  His lungs burned as he held his breath; they felt as if they were bursting; he would have to surface for air.  He still had not seen the woman.
    As his head burst through the surface, he gasped in great heaving gulps.  Several persons shouted to him at the same time, making it impossible to understand what they were saying.  Finally, he heard Albert crying, "Where is she?  Where's my Adelaide?"
    Pierre ignored the commotion, pumped his lungs with air, doubled over, straightened his body vertically, and drew himself downward with powerful pulls of his arms.  As he descended, he surveyed the area around him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flash of movement.  He turned toward it.  It had to be her.  As he drew nearer, he could see the struggling antics of the woman.  Her hands and legs were thrashing about, though feebly, and one hand was clawing at her throat while the other, her right, reached upward as if trying to draw the surface toward her.  Her eyes were wide, staring wildly about.  Bubbles streamed from her mouth which seemed open in a scream.  Her skirts billowed about her lower body like a tent flapping in a strong breeze.  Pierre knew that she would be dangerous to approach.
    He paused to decide how he would advance upon her.  Slowly her movements became weaker, her eyes closed, her arms and legs stilled, and she drifted downward.  Pierre swam toward her, coming at her from the rear.  The bonnet she wore was awry, but her hair remained neatly coiled about her head.  He could not grab her by the hair and haul her to the surface that way.  He was still uncertain how he would grasp her.  Although she appeared unconscious, he knew she might clutch at him and entangle him, and in her renewed struggles, endanger both their lives.  He reached out and grabbed the neck of the loose bodice of her homespun dress.  The material, which was coarse and strong, gave him a good grip.
    She was unconscious and unlikely to impede him with any thrashing about.  He started swimming to the surface, using a strong kicking stroke and drawing powerfully with his free left arm.  Her weight and the drag of her heavy clothing made progress slow.  His lungs ached.  His vision blurred.  His limbs weakened and wanted to quit moving.  He seemed to be whirling in a maelstrom; demons were clutching at him and crying to him.  He forced his mind to concentrate on what he must do.  Every ounce of his strength, he poured into the struggle to reach the surface.
    He looked upward.  All he could see was darkness and shadow.  He was disoriented; he could not decide in which direction the longboat might be.  He noticed a brightening of his surroundings, although he wasn't sure whether he was imagining it or whether it was the surface.
    Then his head popped through the suffocating water, and he gasped for air, looking back to see if his cargo was still with him.  Water streamed down his face, and a piece of seaweed clung to his right ear, irritating him.  The slimy taste of the water tingled his mouth.  He shook his head sharply, like a dog, to remove the excess water from his hair and to dislodge the annoying plant.
    Adelaide's face was still in the water so he changed his grip on her.  He drew her across his breast and held her along his body, his right arm across her bosom, her back to him.  She was quiet and still, and he saw that her lips were bluish purple.
    Someone shouted, but he could not tell from where it came.  He treaded water slowly and breathed deeply as his faculties gradually returned to normal.
    To his surprise, he had surfaced near the stern of the ship, and out of sight of the persons in the longboat.  Carefully he made his way to the south side of the ship into the sunlight.
    The longboat moved out from the ship's side, and its crew was rowing in a tight circle out from the ship.  They were ready to move toward the spot where he might surface.
    Other swimmers were in the water, but he did not take time to count them.  As he came from behind the stern, he shouted, "Here!  Over here!"
    Immediately a shout returned, and the crew of the longboat, with dexterity and speed, made for him.  His strength was going fast, so he hoped they would arrive before he would have to release his burden.
    Within moments, the boat arrived and clutching hands relieved him of the sodden body.  Other hands helped him upward to clutch at the gunwale.  His right hand contacted a thole pin which he grabbed tightly.
    As they drew the limp body over the gunwale, Pierre shouted, "Hang her over the gunwale so her head is lower than the rest of her body.  Let the water drain from her mouth.  If you don't, she'll not be able to breathe."
    They held her, head down, draped over the side of the boat.  Water and mucous streamed from her open mouth.
    Two sailors grabbed Pierre by each arm and hoisted him into the confusion of the longboat.  Adelaide's children were huddled together, crying softly.  The adults were grouped around the still form of the woman who was still half in the boat.  All were offering advice as to how to revive the unconscious woman.  Someone shouted, "Is she still alive?"
    Albert, the husband, who was trying to clasp her in his arms, moaned in anguish, "My Adelaide, my love, you can't leave me now.  I need you."
    One of the sailors was pressing her upper torso as if pumping water from her.  He had torn the bodice of her dress as well as the cotton chemise that most women wore beneath their dresses.  His rough hands were wrapped around each side of her ribcage, and he was squeezing her torso in and out.  Slowly he moved his hands around to her breasts and massaged them firmly.  At each compression a stream of water and slime dribbled from her mouth.
     To Pierre, some of the fondling of her breasts seemed unnecessary, and he looked into the sailor's face.  It was the same man who had been so intent on Francoise as they stood by the rail earlier.  The man's face glowed and flushed, and he seemed to be enjoying what he was doing.  Pierre was about to remonstrate at what he thought was improper behaviour when Adelaide groaned and her eyelids fluttered. The assembled spectators sighed with relief, then cheered.  The sailor continued his ministration, slid his hand further into the bodice, and now rubbed vigorously.  Someone pressed a cloth to her mouth to wipe away the water and saliva.  She sputtered, coughed, and spewed forth more water and mucous.  She struggled to rise, but the sailor held her down and continued squeezing her sides and breasts.  The grin on his face disturbed Pierre.
    Adelaide started to breathe in great gulping gasps, and she thrashed about as she struggled to rise from the awkward position in which she found herself.  The sailor removed his hands from inside the bodice of her dress and stepped back.  Other hands drew the woman fully within the boat and laid her on the bottom of it, her back propped against one of the seats.  Her eyes opened and she stared in fear.  She looked wildly about, saw her husband and children, and made an attempt to reach them.  Albert moved forward and clasped her within his arms.  She closed her eyes and snuggled against his chest.
    Pierre was upset by the way the sailor had ministered to the woman, although no one else seemed concerned.  They congratulated the sailor for his fine work, and how he had successfully revived the half-drowned woman.  He smiled in acceptance, but Pierre thought that some of the smile was from the pleasure he had derived from his massage of the helpless woman's breasts.
    Later, after the excitement of the near-drowning had subsided, Pierre returned to the ship and helped Francoise prepare for their short trip to the mainland.  As they waited for the longboat to return, he sat atop one of the duffels that held his clothes and breathed deeply to quiet his still pounding heart.
    Francoise looked at him with admiration in her eyes.  "That was a brave thing you did."
    "Thanks, but I don't think it was very brave.  I did it without thinking of the consequences.  She needed help.  I was glad that I was able to be of help."
    "That sailor who pumped the water from her seemed to know what he was doing.  Did he have to massage her breasts so hard?" she inquired in a tone that indicated she did not approve of what he did.  "I was watching at the rail of the ship, and it seems to me he took great pleasure in working on that poor woman."
    "I agree with you.  I was thinking the same thing.  He's the same fellow that you were complaining about earlier.  He seems to have an eye for every woman."
    "I think you're right.  I'll be careful when he's around."
    "He's just another of the many dangers the we must watch for."
     Gloom came to Francoise's face, and she whispered, "There are many dangers in this land.  Falling into the sea is just one of them.  Adelaide was lucky.  She could've drowned."
    "That's true, Francoise, but look out there.  There's land to be used to make a man wealthy.  The land's there for the taking--to be used to grow crops, to build houses, to establish homes, to increase the glory of France, to bring God to the savages, to prosper!"
    She gazed north from the ship toward the land.  She could see the longboat at the pier that jutted into the bay.  People were unloading their possessions, and small piles of duffel and gear lay on the rough-hewn timbers.  A short distance up the beach from the pier, the gate to the small fort stood open.  A grey patinaed palisade encircled the half dozen buildings that constituted the fort.  Two enclosures jutted out at an angle from each corner of the palisade.  Here the logs that formed the walls were rotten in spots, and some of the logs leaned at a precarious angle.  As a protective barrier, it left much to be desire.
    She turned toward Pierre.  "Do you think the fort'll be able to protect us from an enemy?" she muttered scornfully.
    "It needs repairs, but we'll do that in the next few days."
    "What if the English attack us now.  That ship doesn't look very friendly--with its gunports open
 "We're at peace with the English.  They won't cause trouble.  They're leaving.  This land now belongs to France."
    "What about the Indians?  Will they be friendly?  After all, it's their land."
    "I've been told that they've always been friendly with the French.  There's no reason to believe they won't be now."
    "You may be right, Pierre, but I'm still afraid."
    "I understand, Francoise.  Everything is new and different.  In a short time you'll become accustomed to life here, and then you'll love it."  He made the statement with an assurance that he did not feel.
    Coming as a colonist had been a difficult decision.  But he could not see a better life in his old home country.  At fifteen he joined the refurbished French navy and served aboard a brigantine, the "Defiance", which made a tour of duty in the Caribbean.  During his service, he learned many things about the world and about the opportunities that awaited a person who was willing to take risks.  He saw the sugar plantations of the Antilles, and the fortunes made by enterprising people.  In the summer of 1667, when the squadron stopped at Port Royal, he liked the life the few colonists enjoyed at this tiny outpost.  When the opportunity presented itself, he took advantage of it.  Now he was here with his new wife to seek his fortune in the new land.
    He gazed across the bay to where a man and a young boy worked in a field which seemed planted to vegetables.  They were hoeing the long rows, which he assumed were turnips, since they were a popular plant with the colonists.  They were easy to grow, required little care, and, as well, they were easy to store once they had been harvested.  They also provided a nutritious supplement to any kind of meat.  He had in his luggage a package of seeds which he would plant as soon as he obtained the final right to his land.
    Pierre Marin was a sailor and fisherman.  He was born in Harfleur, a small village a few miles east of the great port of Le Havre.  All his life he helped his father on his fishing boat.  Early in the morning, almost every day, since he was old enough to help, he accompanied his father as they sailed offshore in their small boat to cast their nets for herring and hake.  The hours were long, the catch usually small, and the recompense for the arduous work was always meager.  It did sustain the family, but there were no luxuries, just the necessities.
    His father was annoyed when he went away to the navy, his mother anxious, and his brothers and sisters missed him for the work that he did, and for the teasing that annoyed them.
    He served out his contract, and then he was invited by Captain Hector de Grandfontaine to join him in Acadia.  The idea intrigued him, and he convinced Francoise Chiasson, the seventeen year old daughter of the tavern keeper, Jean Chiasson, to be his wife and accompany him.  Francoise was excited by the idea of going to a savage land to carve a home from the wilderness.  Of course, she had no idea what the wilderness would be like.  She thought it might be like the woods to the north-east of Le Havre.  Now she seemed to regret her decision.
    "Where are the women in the colony?" she asked, although he told her several times that there were not many women in the small colony.  Most of the colonists were men who planned to establish themselves, then go back for their families if they were married, or else go back to France and find a wife to join them.
    Patiently he explained.  "Francoise, there aren't many French women here.  Most of the women are Indians.  But they don't live in the colony like the French women.  They live in their own villages, which are usually far in the woods where they hunt animals for their food."
    "Will we live in the woods too?"
    "No, my dear, we'll build a house not too far from the fort.  We must stick together for protection--so we can help each other--if there's need."
    "Oh, Pierre, it sounds so dangerous.  Each time I think of it, I'm not sure I can bear it."
    Pierre put his arm around her waist and drew her down beside him.  "Dear, I know you'll come to like this land.  It'll be our home and the home of our children.  Maybe some of our brothers and sisters will come to join us."
     She leaned her head against his shoulder and said nothing.  Pierre was not sure he convinced her.  He placed his arm around her shoulders and stroked her long flowing hair.  She turned to him and kissed him gently on the cheek.
    Several people milled about them, waiting impatiently for the long boat to return.  Pierre noticed a young man leaning against the rail of the main deck near the ladder that was used to descend to the boat.  Pierre saw him several times during the voyage, but he had not spoken to him.  The dark-haired, sturdy-built young man was quiet and reserved and had not mingled much with the passengers.  He was above average in height and build.  He had long sloping shoulders, and the muscles bulged beneath his heavy linen shirt.  He looks strong, Pierre thought.
    The young man raised his head, noticed Pierre's gaze, and smiled shyly.  Pierre returned the smile and hollered, "My friend, it's nice to have arrived."
    "Yes," he nodded but said no more.
    Pierre continued, "Are you one of Captain Hector's men?"
    "No, I'm hoping to get a concession from Lieutenant Richard.
     Pierre had heard of Lieutenant Richard.  He was one of Captain Hector d'Andigne de Grandfontaine's officers, and he, as an officer, was given a grant of land by the king.  Lieutenant Richard arrived on an earlier ship to make preparations for the arrival of Captain Hector, the new governor of Acadia.
    "I wish you luck, my friend."
    The young man approached slowly, his right hand extended, and he said, "My name's Jacques Breton."
    Pierre seized his hand and was surprised by the size and strength of the man's grip.  "My name's Pierre Marin, and this is my wife, Francoise."
    Jacques bowed slowly at the waist, and his tanned face turned a deeper colour.  Pierre noticed his embarrassment and smiled.  Obviously he was uncomfortable in the company of females.
    Hesitantly Jacques swept off his knitted stocking-like headpiece and stammered, " It...It's v-very n-nice to meet you."
     "Where are you from, Jacques?"  Pierre asked.
    "I was born on a farm outside Rouen, but the last years I've been working on the docks at Le Havre."
    "Then you must know the Red Circle Tavern on Rue St. Etienne."
     "I've heard of it, but I never went there.  I was saving my sous to come to this land."
    "Oh!  Francoise's father owns it.  I thought you might have seen her there.  She helped her father a great deal."
    Jacques stared down at the toe of his worn leather shoe and fidgeted uncomfortably.
    "Well, Jacques, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of you, and maybe we can be of help while you're getting established."
    "Thank you."  He turned away and returned to the rail as he saw the boat returning from the mainland.
    Pierre turned to Francoise.  "There are, you see, many agreeable people here.  Jacques seems to be a very nice person, and I'm sure we'll be seeing more of him."
    Francoise smiled half-heartedly, the near-fatal accident and the behaviour of the crude sailor still on her mind.  "I hope you're right, Pierre."
    "I know I'm right, my dear.  You'll see.  Everything'll turn out for the best."
    "But if it doesn't, will you go back to France?"
    The edge in her voice annoyed him, and, for a moment, he had misgivings.  Would Francoise be difficult and badger him into returning to France before he had a chance to become prosperous in the new world?
    He convinced her that their only hope of a brighter future lay in leaving the established society of France for the looser, freer society of the new continent.  Yes, he painted a picture of opportunity and wealth, but he had not minimized the difficulties and dangers.  They, after their marriage, talked for hours of the possibilities in the new land.
    She was not unfamiliar with the promotion of the overseas colony, for a poster extolling its virtues was placed in her father's tavern.  Colbert, the finance minister of the great and glorious king, Louis XIV, was promoting emigration, and assisting generously anyone who would leave his native land for the far, alien shores.  Francoise had been as excited as he, but now she seemed to be changing her mind.
    Finally he answered her.  "I'll go back to France if I find I can't make a better life for us here.  But first, we must try to make the best use of our chances here."
    For the first time he was irritated with his new wife, and the sharpness of his voice shocked him.
    She felt his anger but ignored it.  "Will you promise me that, Pierre?  Will you promise me that if we don't succeed here, you'll go back to France?"
    He hesitated. "I promise...but if I can't keep it...I'll feel that I'm cheating you, my sweet."  Tenderness returned to his voice.  He continued, "We must do our best here, and you must help me.  We must make a better life for our children, and we must start without doubts, Francoise.  You must share my dream...be part of it...be convinced that we can accomplish it.  I love you dearly, and I need you to make it worthwhile.  Please be with me."
    She nodded in agreement, but he felt it lacked conviction.

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