*This is the first chapter of a paper I wrote for history a few years ago that I just recently decided to expand into a story. It's gone through major reconstruction, but it still needs some work to erase some immature, old me style, stuff, lol*
When my father, my younger sister, and I arrived in Quebec in the year 1639, I was shocked to find it wasn’t bitterly cold. All the stories my family had heard of Quebec were of endless snow, harsh wind, and unforgiving cold. I had not expected it to be warm, even though it was summer.
As I held my little sister Cecile’s hand, I stared at the land that was to be my new home with anxiety and nervous excitement and thought of the days that had passed since my mother’s death. Ever since that fateful day when fever had descended upon our household, things had not gone well for my family in Reims, France. The illness had taken both my mother and my two weeks old brother.
Nobody seemed to need a carpenter, or at least a carpenter like my father, who had a fiery temper. My mother was the only person who could talk him out of his bad moods, and once she was gone, things became hopeless. People seemed only to want carpenters like Jacques, who spoke with silky, flattering words. He was my father’s competitor, and we knew him to be a cruel man and saw past his veneer.
So, my father could not find work. We suddenly found ourselves without enough money to retain our property, and we lost our home. My father’s brother had often written to us, saying we should go to Quebec, where he had prospered and now lived in comfort. My uncle had gone to Quebec in 1627 when Minister Richelieu established the Company of 100 associates. They financed his journey and supported him for the first three years of his life in Quebec, as they did for three hundred colonists every year.
I remember the day my father finally decided to accept his offer. I had been sitting in the room of the tavern where we were staying, letting down the hem of one of Cecile’s dresses just as my mother had taught me, when my father entered.
“Blanche, I can see no other way out,” he sighed, holding a letter in his hand. I quietly folded the dress up and placed it in my sewing basket.
“What do you mean, Father?” I asked.
“I have decided to accept your uncle’s offer and go join him in the New World,” he stated. I was silent.
“But what about Cecile and me? What will become of us?” I questioned anxiously. I feared that my father might leave us behind and not send for us for a few years, as had happened to a friend of mine. My father looked at me in surprise.
“Why, you would come with me, of course. We must start our life anew, and moving to Quebec would give us that chance,” he told me. I nodded. What else was I to do?
So it was settled. My father sent off the letter telling of our plans to my uncle the next day. In the weeks that followed, Father made preparations for our departure. He was able to buy us transport on a ship owned by an old friend. We packed what few belongings we had left, and before I knew it, had set off to Quebec.
Our journey was long and arduous, and Cecile was often seasick. Storms were not uncommon, and it was always cold. Cecile and Father and I were often huddled below deck, desperate for warmth. The food was stale and tasteless, and more often than not, the repulsive sight of grubs and maggots greeted us on our plates. When we finally saw land again on July 14th, Cecile and I cried, and father for once was speechless.
Though the rocky promontory that was Quebec was not necessarily beautiful, there was something breathtaking about it. There was such a rawness and wild feel humming all around it, and even if I had not known where I was, I would have been sure it was in the New World.
Father heaved our small trunk, filled with our few belongings, on to his shoulder, and I picked up his large, heavy tool sack and held it tight with two hands. Cecile grabbed my skirt and together we trudged down the wobbly plank and on to the rugged terrain that rose out from the riverbank. It took me a few minutes to regain my land legs, and I had to apologize more than once for bumping into someone. We weaved our way through the crowd as I stared curiously at the town. All the buildings seemed so new and fresh, though very weather beaten. Apothecaries, various stores for everyday needs, an ironworks, a trader post, a church, and houses. It would have seemed like any other normal, somewhat newly established town that could be found in the middle of France except for the fact that it was surrounded by wilderness. I could hear the rush of a river somewhere nearby, and pine trees loomed behind every building. As I walked, I could feel the steep incline beneath my feet as my muscles begged for rest.
I suddenly realized that we were heading toward one of the largest houses in the village, a carpenter’s sign hanging over the door. I assumed it was my uncle’s.
As we walked up the rocky and well-worn path to the large house, the door was suddenly thrown open, and a big, brown-haired man bounded out the door. My father dropped the trunk, and I winced as I heard our pots clatter. After hugging my father tightly, the man pushed him away and surveyed him closely.
“Ah, my little brother Jean, come at last!”
“Then you got my letter, Louis?” said my father with relief. My uncle nodded.
“Yes, yes. It arrived a week ago. Ah, how happy I am to see you! But who is this?” questioned my uncle, looking at me. “Can this be little Blanche?” he asked, stunned.
I blushed and said, “Yes, Uncle. It has been twelve years, now.”
“You are fourteen, then?” he exclaimed. I nodded. “Oh my, how you have grown!” shouted my uncle kissing both of my cheeks and patting my auburn head. Cecile peeked out from behind my skirt, her brown curls bouncing. “And this must be Cecile!” stated my uncle. Cecile nodded and stepped out from behind me. My uncle picked her up and swung her around. She laughed with glee, as my uncle shouted, “Oh, I have heard so much about you!” My father chuckled, and then we all burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh after being sad for so long. I felt a hope inside me that maybe this new life in this new place would be filled with much laughter, and little sadness.
