Malheur

One Step at a Time
Doug Hall
(Source)

As the bedraggled French soldiers moved away from the fort, Sergent Malheur let Sergent Bernard know, in no uncertain terms, that by right of seniority he was now in command. Bernard tried to protest, but he did so in vain. Bernard realized that he was completely out of his depth in this situation.

Sergent Louis Malheur had been a soldier for over twenty years, first in Europe, now here in the New World. His regiment had arrived in Quebec three years ago. He had served on garrison duty in that town until he had been told to retire. Not asked, but told. He could have gone back to France but he chose to stay in New France.

After casting about for employment, he had been in a small tavern on the Rue Saint-Louis when he had been accosted by a sergeant recruiting for the Compagnies franches de la marine.

"You there, you look like a soldier. We could use a fellow like you in the Compagnies!"

Malheur had turned to look at the man, "My own regiment, the Régiment de Carignan-Salières didn't want me, why should la marine want me?"

The man had sidled up to Malheur, "Different rules mon vieux¹, we belong to the Navy not those old women of the Army."

When Malheur started to bristle at the insult, the sergeant of la marine sat down, "No insult intended, I am Pierre Tournières. We need experienced men in la marine, many of our recruits are young and inexperienced, an old hand like you would be welcome."

One thing led to another, which is how Sergent Louis Malheur found himself in the wilderness far to the south of Quebec City. He knew that if he struck out for the north, very few of the men would make it, they were children in this vast wilderness. The Abenaki might give them succor, but after the bloody defeat they had suffered at the hands of les anglais, they might turn against them as well. Malheur figured they were on their own.

"Hold up!" he had commanded when the men had entered the edge of the cleared zone near the fort. Bernard looked at him in confusion.

"Les anglais commanded us to leave. Why are we stopping?"

Malheur turned in amazement, "Since when do we belong to les anglais? A pox on them. We will camp here for the moment. There is no sense in setting out into the forest with no plan, no direction, and no supplies. We wait."

The Gaudry brothers and their Abenaki friend left the Frenchmen who had fled with Alain in what they had hoped was a safe place. Alain had let them know that moving about in the forest could get them killed. The Mohicans were certainly still around. After leaving them, they had returned to the ambush site, as Alain had figured, there were still muskets and other equipment laying about. The Mohican had no need of them, they did. So they re-armed themselves.

"Little Wolf, do you think your kinsmen might lend us aid? We need to guide those other soldiers back to the north, they cannot do it themselves." Alain said as they made their way towards the fort, alert for any sign of the enemy.

Little Wolf shook his head, "It will be another moon before my people will return to war, they have many to bury, many to mourn. But they will return to the warpath, eventually. Though I think not against les anglais."

Alain saw the truth of the matter, he turned to Jacques and said, "We must lead them north as best we can. We know the way."

"We don't have canoes brother, we will have to go on foot." Jacques pointed out.

"I know, but if the soldiers stay here, they will die."

Turning to Little Wolf, "You do not have to help us my brother. You have done enough."

Little Wolf looked disappointed. "I will not abandon my French brothers, you are the only kin I have left. Come let use make contact with the other soldiers. We need to start soon."

Malheur awakened just before dawn, something wasn't right. Getting up he looked for the sentries, all of them were asleep. He also discovered that Sergent Bernard was gone, along with fifteen men. Apparently he was going to strike out on his own.

The fool.

As he stood there, looking into the forest, almost bereft of hope, he heard a voice call out to him. A French voice.

"Hallo, Sergent Malheur, it is Private Alain Gaudry!"

Malheur was instantly on alert, he had seen Gaudry slip into the woods with a few others before he could stop them. But he had come back, he wondered why.

"Advance and be recognized." Malheur called.

Alain approached, he was armed, his brothers had scrounged weapons from the dead, firelocks, tomahawks, and enough powder and shot to make him feel safe again. He might be killed in the forest, but not without a fight.

"Sergent." Alain walked into the open, firelock in the crook of his left arm, his right hand raised in a sign of peace.

"Gaudry, where did you get a firelock?"

"There are many in the forest, the Mohicans did not take any. There are more. I wish to help you get away from this place. My brothers and I have traveled this land, we know the forest, we know the people. If you stay here, you will die."

"You abandoned your post Private..."

"Only to make contact with my brothers, one of whom is Abenaki. You must rouse your men, we need to start moving."

"Where are we going?"

"Montréal."

"How can I trust you?" Malheur was suspicious.

"Whether you trust me or not, I don't care. I and my brothers are going north, to Montréal, if you wish to come, then come. If you do not, then stay. I will give you until the sun is one finger above that mountain." He pointed to the ridge in the distance. "We will return to see you ready to travel, or ready to die. It is your choice."

"Give me time to rouse the men, we will go now. I see no other choice."

"You are a wise man mon Sergent. Make haste."

Sergeant Rutland reported to Major Jenkins, "Sir, the French, they've gone. Moved north I think."

"Good riddance to them. Now find my orderly, we have a busy day ahead. Sarn't Major!" Jenkins was bellowing for the senior non-commissioned officer, as he did at the start of every day.

Rutland was beginning to wonder who actually commanded the unit.

Editor's Note: Posting may dwindle to virtual silence over the next cuppla. We have family in town and a very sick kitty to boot. Things may get hectic this week. My morale is in the dumpster, thank the Lord that The Nuke and her tribe are inbound. Seeing the grandkids will be nice. A bientôt.

¹ My pal (vieux also means "old")

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