This woman was nothing like the ill-bred vixon his cousin had made her out to be. Claiming that she had been an actress, which at the time was kindred to prostitution, and the daughter of a barber, when in fact she was well educated and bright; and her father not a barber (who would then be at the low end of the medical profession), but a university educated medical doctor. Impressed with the young woman, he gave her permission for a warship to go the aid of her husband; and completely ignoring La Tour's demotion, referred to him in the document as Lietenant-General and Governor for the King on the Coasts of Acadia. He then authorized Etienne De Mourron, to equip a vessel for war; with soldiers, munitions and food supplies, to go to her fort on the St. John River.
She next met with the company associates who composed a letter to La Tour describing several new schemes of D’Aulnay’s, with advice on how to foil them. Feeling rather proud of herself, and rightfully so, she left for home, anxious to reunite with her husband and small son, who was now almost two and a bundle of energy.
The warship St. Clement, left La Rochelle in April of 1643; on the orders of Maille; with 140 passengers, mixed Protestant and Catholic. 45 of the men were to serve La Tour for 2 to 3 years, and the rest just added assurance that the ship arrive safely at it's destination. It was a motley crew; with many signing on to escape poverty, and one of them, even came without shoes on his feet. They hailed from many parts of France: Normandy, Brittany, Perche, Lorraine, and the Loire district, as well as around La Rochelle, and 5 of them were Swiss. But it wouldn't have mattered if they came from Mars, they were going to protect her family.
It happened that the family boat of Major Edward Gibbons was sailing in the middle of the harbour heading toward their farm on Pullen Point. On board were his wife, Margaret Gibbons and several of their children, and when they spotted the St. Clement coming at them full speed, they fled to the safety of Governor's Garden.
Winthrop himself, tall and dressed in Puritan fashion, with sombre robe trimmed with fine lace-edged linen at the cuffs and throat, came down to greet the St. Clement, and realizing that it was Charles La Tour, invited them to land. He explained that his ship was loaded with supplies for his fort at St. John, but that D’Aulnay had blocked his entrance and the people at his fort would starve if he couldn't get to them.
Charles and Francoise stayed for supper and later she was invited to stay at the Gibbon’s home, where she would be able to rest and freshen up after her long and horrifying ordeal. Etienne De Mourron presented the men with all the official paperwork, including the letter from De Maille, and all the Frenchmen were treated as honoured guests.
New England soldiers performed drill and most of the men from the St. Clement, stayed at the homes of their counterparts. They spent several weeks being wined and dined, and even attended their church services, in a, pardon the pun; show of good faith; but Francoise and Charles were eager to get home.
Though Francoise had become friendly with the Margaret Winthrop and Margaret Gibbons, she missed little Etienne and was eager to see that he was well.
Finally, the New Englanders allowed them four ships, and after taking a mortgage on his Fort: The Seabridge, Increase, Philip and Mary, and the Greyhound were on their way to Acadia, escorting the St. Clement to safety. However, not everyone in New England supported Winthrop’s actions and it would cost him the next election.
The messenger was taken into the fort blindfolded, and for the next six to seven hours, D’Aulnay’s people worked frantically to shore up the ramparts and palisades, while the friars consoled the women who were crying pitifully, telling them that the new arrivals were infidels and heretics. In his usual arrogant manner, D’Aulnay refused to open La Tour’s letter on the grounds that it omitted to salute him properly as Lietenant-General, but he did compose replies to the two English letters, enclosing a copy of the latest royal decree against La Tour. However, he refused to consider any terms of peace whatsoever.
Furious, Francoise's husband urged a joint attack on Port Royal but Hawkins refused to give the order, though he instructed his men that any who wanted to could, and about 30 of them joined La Tour. In the skirmish, three of D’Aulnay’s men were killed and a 4th taken prisoner. Then the French and English raiders set fire to the millhouse and burnt a field of corn, before retiring to their ships. An 'eye for an eye', after the Cape Sable destruction.
Port Royal's cannon fired a few shots at the retreating vessels, but the balls splashed into the water, and the English ships did not fire back. The expedition landed at Fort La Tour on August 16, 1643; where they met up with Peter Mutton, a captain of D'Aulnay's, returning on a mission for his boss. Charles confiscated his cargo and divided it amoung the all the men: in all 400 moose skins and 400 beaver pelts; with La Tour getting 1/3; the ship's owners 1/3 and the remainder going to the men. The New Englanders stayed with the La Tours for two months, as per their agreement, and then headed home.
However, Francoise would only have a short time to spend with her son, before heading off on another adventure, or misadventure, as it turned out to be. Seems that their enemy at Port Royal had reported the incident to the officials in France, and since her husband's actions were tantamount to treason, once again a warrant was issued for his arrest, and once again Francoise was off to France to plead her husband's case. After a slow and ardous journey, the Gillyflower finally met his destination, but this time, she was not welcome, and barely escaped France with her life.
Then to make matters worse, D'Aulnay captured the Gillyflower, just off Cape Sable, but Marie managed to hide herself in the cargo, and once the attackers were convinced that she was not onboard, the ship returned safely to Boston.
But leave it to the resouceful Lady la Tour, she sued The Gillyflower's captain for taking too long in crossing the Atlantic, and failing to deliver her to her port of call and believe it or not, she won her case and used the money to obtain three ships for her husband. Don’t you just love this woman?
It turned out to be a trick and poor Francoise was held prisoner, along with her staff and all the men in Charles's employ. Her precious little Etienne was put on board a ship and sent back to France. Reportedly, he was sold into slavery, though it is more likely that he was placed in a monastery as a 'bastard child' , or died enroute; but either way, he was never heard of again.
What happened next is probably best told by Nicolas Denys. In his words:
“Lady La Tour, after having sustained for three days and three nights all the attacks of d'Aulnay, and after having compelled him to withdraw beyond range of her cannon, was in the end obliged to surrender on the fourth day, which was Easter Day (April 16, 1645), having been betrayed by a Swiss who was then on guard (Hans Vaner), while she was making her men rest, hoping for some respite. The Swiss yielded to bribery by the men of D'Aulnay and allowed them to mount to the assault, which was again resisted for some time by the Lady commandant at the head of her men. She only yielded at the last extremity and under the condition that they said d'Aulnay should give quarter to all."
“Unfaithful to his words, the barbarian d'Aulnay asked which one of the captives wanted to have his life spared by hanging the others. A certain André Bernard came forward, choosing to be the hangman of his companions in order to save his skin. The nauseating and cruel d'Aulnay put a rope around Françoise-Marie's neck, set her up probably on a platform, tied her fast to a post, in front of a number of scaffolds to which mounted one after the other 40 of the soldiers who had so valiantly defended the fort of their master, under the command of his wife, until all 40 of them were hung by the neck till they died. Françoise-Marie Jacquemin, strong of character as she was, could not bear the sight of such a slaughter; she died of horror and grief a few days later".
She would go down in history as "The Heroine of Acadia." and later an author would write of d'Aulnay: "To dishonesty he adds an excess of barbarity which would be hard to believe, if it was said of an Indian." (Woodward.FTW...REFN86506) Despite, the undeserved comparison to an Indian, and I mean that the insult was on the latter, he was probably one of the most despicable men in Canadian history and he will always be remembered for his "rapacity, tyranny and cruelty."
And what of the executioner, Andre Bernard? I think that he had been in d’Aulnay’s camp already, though he may not have realized that he would be forced to do something this cruel. D'Aulnay had a knack for bringing his dependant people under his control, and by having Bernard “prove his loyalty” in such an extreme manner, it may have been his way of saying this was the price you paid for playing both sides of the fence. But was he a coward as Denys suggested? I don’t think so. After signing an an affidavid on May 15, 1645, he returned to France where he reported the incident to the court, but he would never return to Acadia.
