Chapter 13
July 26, 1777
Mathurin, Jean-Marie and Mingo arrived at dusk in Sillery, just a few hours from Quebec City. They chose to spend the night in a small cavern by the fall. Morning would come soon enough to walk into the city.
Mingo practiced his French with his companions, but he would never pass for Canadian. It was decided that Mingo would simply be a metis. He was after all un sang-mêlé; he would claim to be of French descent rather than British.
Mingo, the French-speaking métis, would go to Québec city with two of his Canadian trapper friends; they needed work during the summer season. Their cover story would allow them to walk inside the walled city and to look for jobs.
Mathurin had told him a lot about the French-speaking Capitol. The British were present as lawkeepers; their regiments lived at the Citadel, and those who had wives and children had them living in the higher city. The Canadians were mostly farmers spread north of the higher city. The port was busy all summer , there were numerous taverns, pubs and places of ill-repute in the lower city by the St-Lawrence. It was a busy city.
"Will I pass as one of those métis? I speak a little Wyandot. Will it be enough to pass for half-Huron?" Mingo wondered for the third time.
And for the third time, Jean-Marie told him, "You will pass without question for Métis, what you have to remember is that you're now Catholic and the half-breed son of a young seigneur. The Jesuits' tutoring and your father will explain your fancy French. And what must you remember about being Catholic?"
"Are all Métis Catholics then?"
"Of course not! But how else to explain the way you speak? Either you're deaf and dumb, or you're a scholar from the Jesuit school. Pick your choice, l'Indien." Jean-Marie kept addressing Mingo as "the Indian", in a friendly banter. Mingo felt comfortable with the Canadian trapper; there was honesty about Jean-Marie.
"And what do I need to know about this Catholic métis that I am?" Mingo wondered aloud.
"Not a whole lot, just make sure to bow your head, and make the sign of the cross when you pass a church. And there are many churches in Quebec City!" Mathurin teased Mingo, laughing good-naturedly.
They spread their blankets on the ground. It had been a warm day, and the night was bright with stars and a fair-sized moon. Crickets were in full song and they soon were asleep, lulled by the safety of the forests and the waterfall nearby.
As morning came, Mingo got up first. He dove into the St-Lawrence for a quick swim; the seaway was quite invigorating. Since he wasn't wearing feathers and braids, all he did as he came out of the water, was to make sure his shorter and new ponytail was tight. He had set a line in the water. There was a fair size salmon on it. So he threaded a piece of wood through the head of the fish and set it to grill on the fire Mathurin had started.
"L'Indien, I like the way you fish. I have never met any Indians who didn't like swimming, but your fishing is the best," beamed Jean-Marie, fond of food.
"Are you going to call me 'L'Indien' in Quebec, or 'Nicholas'?" Mingo asked.
"Both. Either. Don't mind it. Now, if everyone's ready, let's get going," answered Jean-Marie.
Mathurin made sure the fire was out; they picked up their packs. Blankets had been rolled. Mingo had sheathed the knife given to him by Jean-Marie. Neither had been able to provide him with a rifle, but the knife was long and sharp.
They walked toward the lower city and the port under the Cap Diamant.
The trail by the St-Lawrence was well traveled; maple, poplar and birch trees were part of the lustrous hill leading to the higher city. Mathurin told him the fort had been built up on the Cap, where it was easy to defend the city. The first settlers had built their homes by the lower side of the river and they were protected by the cannons above their heads. Quebec had survived the British invasion, there was even a smaller fort with as many cannons, on the Cap Beauport , 20 miles east, facing Orleans Island.
Jean-Marie was less of a talker than Mathurin but he had a keen sense of humor. Mathurin had shared many stories since leaving Chambly. Mingo doubted that any were true and yet again, the kinship of story telling and woodmanship was a strong bond between the three new friends. Jean-Marie had given up on using "Nicholas" to acknowledge Mingo's presence in their midst. He was just "L'Indien", and that was fine for the tall Cherokee.
As they saw the first chimney's smoke, Mingo saw the church spires. So many churches for such a small population. He was told that if all the nuns and priests could have married as well, they would have easily doubled the population of the province. But again, he doubted the veracity of his friends' words.
He smiled at them, and practiced his Sign of the Cross; both his Cherokee and British blood shivered.
They were in Quebec City, facing the port. There were two majestic vessels in the port. A dozen of so Redcoats patrolled around the dozens of sailors and commoners.
Time to change identity once more for Mingo, L'Indien.
July 31, 1777
Mathurin and "L'Indien" found work on the docks, just a few hours after arriving in the city. The biggest ship, "The Gallant" had arrived that morning from the port of Liverpool. Work would last until the whole cargo was unloaded and delivered to all the proper merchants awaiting them.
Jean-Marie, reluctant to accept long hours of hard labor, managed to get himself a place with a rich settler. He preferred the work in the field.
The settler had agreed to house all three men in his barn. His wife would provide them with food, but Jean-Marie would not receive any pay. It was fine; the purpose of staying in the city was not to provide for themselves.
However, their hours were long and the work exhausting. Mingo and Mathurin ate their supper at the pub by the Notre-Dame des Victoires church. Pubs, taverns and churches were all side by side in this city.
On the pier, no one objected to working with a Métis. Mingo had seen Indians in the streets and by the farm where they slept. He had seen them enter the churches as well. Everywhere, there were patrols of British soldiers. It was difficult to find out about another Cherokee or a tall white man, without asking too many questions, and while avoiding notice themselves.
After supper, they walked the upper city streets, making sure to stay within the walls of the town. Mingo was spotted by two Ursuline nuns as he walked by their convent. As the younger one made the sign of the cross, holding on tightly to her wooden rosary, the older one came forward and addressed him boldly.
"You're an Indian, young man. Have you not been christened in the faith of our Holy Father?"
Mingo was at a loss. Mathurin made him sign every time he passed a church. He didn't know what he had done wrong to attract the nun's attention. And mostly, he didn't know how she could tell he was Indian. He was used to being acknowledged as one with his Cherokee clothes. Wearing Jean-Marie's buckskins and with shorter hair, he felt safe.
Mathurin came to his rescue. "Ma soeur, pardonnez l'Indien. He wasn't baptized that long ago and after a hard day's work, he tends to forget."
Trying to make up for the mistakes he didn't realize he had made, Mingo crossed in the wrong order, to the utter dismay of both nuns.
"Who taught you the sacraments and the rites, young Indian?" asked the older sister.
"I am sorry, Madame," began Mingo, "It has not been very long," he added, stammering, confused. One didn't call a nun "Madame" and as the words escaped him, he saw his error.
"You will both come with me to the chapel, and we will pray together for your souls. What are your names, young men?"
Mathurin hushed Mingo and said, "I'm Mathurin, and his name is Nicholas; he was christened just two months ago. His family died last winter in the northern mountains and his tribe moved on. He came to find work here. His father was the younger son of a French seigneur who decided to live in the wild."
Going native appealed as much to the simpler man as it did to the French nobles who had come for adventure or profit. Natives who adopted the white man's ways and his religion were also very common. The Jesuits and the many orders of nuns worked hard to save the natives and didn't much care for the white going natives. They could tell an Indian in a crowd, even if he had adapted and lived as a white.
That made Mingo very curious.
Mathurin and Mingo went to the Ursulines' chapel with the two sisters. Mingo found the chapel charming and plain, without the ostentatious decorum of the churches and basilicas he knew. He didn't have the heart to lie any longer to the sisters. Since he had found strong allies with the two Canadian men, he wondered if perhaps such help could be counted on from the nuns as well.
Daniel was tall, Rain Cloud was an Indian. Perhaps those sisters could help Mingo find his friends faster.
"Powerful allies, those nuns!" Mingo thought to himself, as he lay in a small room in the convent. Mathurin went back to the barn with a message for Jean-Marie. Mingo would remain with the nuns until the Americans could be found. Mathurin left with a secretive smile; he knew that the Mother Superior and her young charges would not only look for the Cherokee's friends discreetly, but they would also try to save their Indian souls. Mingo was offered tea as he shared his story with the Mother Superior, and then sent to a bedroom in the same section of the convent that priests and male relatives of the sisters used.
When Mère Marie-Jeanne found out he could read, she promptly handed him her own precious Bible, two candles, a nightshirt, a clean blanket and instructions to read a few specific verses.
Sleep was easy, his muscles were sore from the heavy loading and unloading of the 10 hour workday. Fresh air came in through the small window.
It took less than a day for a duo of sisters to spot Rain Cloud and Daniel Boone as they walked into a printer's shop, on St-Jean Street.
Sister Bernadette was sent to tell Mother Superior that two men had gone into Monsieur Légaré's printing shop while Sister Angélique remained behind to keep track of them. Monsieur Mingo had described the tall Kentuckian accurately; she had not seen such a tall man before. As for the Indian with him, he was shorter than Monsieur Mingo and was dressed in the Cherokee way.
Mother Superior gathered all the sisters, except for the the novitiates, in order to involve them in the search and rescue. While the priests and bishops had given an official order to let the British have their way in manner of reforms and laws, they also had been ordered to undermine them as often as possible. Helping Americans foil some of the plans was one of the quests that Mother Superior wholeheartedly supported. And there was the very interesting challenge of turning two heathens into new Catholics.
As Daniel left the printing shop with Rain Cloud, a sister approached him. Daniel had bought the Gazette of Quebec and a map of the province from the printer; his shop printed the weekly paper and sold books and maps. Monsieur Légaré had many books on his shelves and Daniel had looked through them – most were in French. He knew Mingo could speak the language; he didn't know if he could read it. The few books in English were mostly law or accounting. Monsieur Légaré told him of an Englishman who had established a notary office and added to his income by selling some English books. It was on Rue St-Paul, easy to find, behind the Cathedral, by the Porte St-Louis. Rain Cloud's knowledge of French had been helpful to this point. Daniel had discovered, to his astonishment, that Quebec had remained nearly completely French, despite the presence of the British. He understood better Colonel Hartford's reason for sending two French-speaking officers with him into the new British colony.
"Monsieur Fox, may I ask you something?" A nun interrupted his train of thought.
"Madame, je ne parle pas français," Daniel repeated the words taught him by McTavish faithfully.
"I speak English a little, Monsieur Fox. A friend of yours is visiting our convent, if you please," stammered the middle aged sister.
She came closer to Daniel and whispered very quietly, "Do you have a friend named Mingo?"
Daniel turned to Rain Cloud for help, "Rain Cloud, can you ask her what she knows of Mingo's whereabouts?"
Between Rain Cloud and the sister, Daniel understood that Mingo was staying with the sisters of the Ursulines convent and that he could shelter under their roof as well.
"Rain Cloud, can you tell her we have to contact McTavish before we go to their convent? What time will Mingo go back?" asked Daniel, distrustfully.
The two Americans promised to go to the delivery entrance before dusk.
Mingo and Mathurin left the dock well past seven that evening. They were dirty, smelly and sore. There was a bucket of drinking water for the dock workers, a ladle attached to a hook. Mingo liberally splashed fresh water on his face, arms, shoulders. The weather was warm , a very nice breeze was blowing gently. By the time they walked up the long winding stairways into the higher city and the nuns' convents, he was dry and feeling much cleaner.
They arrived at the delivery entrance in a small dirty alleyway, just a few moments after Daniel, Rain Cloud and McTavish.
Sister Bernadette served them hot soup and fresh bread. She had baked cinnamon buns earlier in the day after Monsieur Boone had agreed to come to the convent. The ten novitiates had been sent to the chapel, to scrub the floor and polish the wood. They didn't want any of the younger sisters to be aware of these men's presence. Daniel Boone was a wanted man, with a bounty on his head.
Mother Marie-Jeanne sat with them, looking each of them up and down. Mathurin said the benedicite. Monsieur Boone was a religious man, he bowed his head, as did the American soldier with him, even if they were not Catholics. She could accept this. But the two Indians now – she just had to bring them into the fold. Father Avila might agree to spend more money on alphabet books, if she could have those two Indians turn to the faith. They were from an American tribe, far south, where there were no orders – saving souls was Mother Marie-Jeanne's primary goal in the order, but establishing new convents was a close second.
The taller of the two Indians spoke flawless, educated French, and had impeccable manners. She had been told that he normally dressed like the other Cherokee at her table. He was wearing a disguise, he said, with a charming smile. The second Indian, shorter, quieter, ate quickly as primitives did.
"Monsieur Boone, you are the leader of this group?" inquired Mother Marie-Jeanne. She spoke no English, but McTavish promptly translated. He would, as he had in the last few days, act as interpreter.
"Madame, I am part of the mission, but I am no more the leader of it than Mingo here," Daniel said. As he looked at Mingo, he saw his old friend nod in a familiar gesture. "However, you can consider me the leader in this instance."
Mathurin nudged McTavish to tell Daniel and Mingo to address the Mother Superior as "Ma mère", and not as "Madame". McTavish relayed the message, but Mother Marie-Jeanne wasn't offended.
She wasn't listening to Daniel recapping what Mingo had told her before, nor to what had happened to his group later on. She was thinking that, while she offered protection, she could have Sister Bernadette, Sister Marianna and herself gather the two Cherokee Indians into the tiny classroom in the wing closest to the cliff. She had learned the hard way, as a young nun, that Indians disliked being in enclosed spaces. But as they needed to stay as far from the British soldiers as possible, this classroom with the fresh breeze from the St-Lawrence River could do.
If the more civilized of the two was proof enough, she could get Father Avila to perform their baptism and their first communion next week. Yes, that would do. She would get the information the Americans required, but there was no reason to get it to them quickly. Yes, two christenings next week would do just fine. Father Avila would be pleased. Perhaps, if they also foiled one more British plan, he might mention this to the bishop as well. Oh, that would do just fine! Perhaps a new extension of her convent in the lower city could be built, and the novitiates might be sent to teach at the Huron village in Cap Rouge.
Daniel hoped to gather all the information and fix things up as quickly as possible, so they could go home. Mingo was happy to see his old friend and couldn't wait to speak to him alone. Mathurin thought perhaps he could go back home; he knew the sisters and the priests – with them on their side, the Americans were safe. Rain Cloud was relieved that Mingo was safe, although the fact that Mingo looked more like a white man than a Cherokee so easily told him that Mingo needed to be reminded of his heritage once they were back in Chota.
And Mother Superior Marie-Jeanne had plans, money and two souls in her account book. Truly, Providence had been good to her with these Americans in her path.