Blood Brothers in Louisbourg by Philip Roy

passed the jug on. Soon the room started to spin. The music got louder. People started dancing, singing and clapping. Everyone was smiling and laughing. We took off our jackets. The women removed their shawls. Everyone spread out against the sides and corners of the hall to create an open space in the middle where people could dance. And did they dance! They hopped and skipped and spun around and did somersaults on the floor! I was amazed at the wildness of the fiddle playing too. The fiddlers seemed to be making it up as they went along. It was simple but so full of energy I just couldn’t keep my feet still. And the rum heated us up until we were all red in the face and hot in the head. After a while I couldn’t stand it anymore; I had to either run out of the hall and get some fresh air or jump into the middle of the circle and join the craziness. To my own amazement, I found myself in the circle, jumping, clapping and swinging around foolishly like a clown. I saw the faces of men and women I didn’t know, and yet everyone seemed like my friend. We danced and jumped and kicked for hours. People grabbed me by the hands and swung me around and around and let me go, and then I was caught by the next person, who did the same. On and on it went, while I laughed myself silly.
    Eventually the morning came – early and cruel. I felt the worst pain in my head and was sick to my stomach. If this was what the soldiers were experiencing on a regular basis I had more appreciation for their suffering. I promised myself I would never do it again. Many people had stayed up all night. Those of us who had slept at all did so right on the floor of the hall. My father came in and he was furious. I saw him open his mouth to yell, then catch himself. We were there, after all, to recruit the locals, not to upset them, and so he bit his tongue. But I could tell that he was boiling up inside.
    It took about an hour to get us all together, on our feet and in some semblance of order. I felt absolutely awful from my head to my toes but especially in my head and stomach. I regretted everything about the night before and again vowed I would never do it again. My father made a quick count of us and came up one short.
    â€œNo matter,” he said, “whoever it is will show up soon enough. Let’s collect the new recruits and get on our way.”
    Well, strangely enough, they could not be found. Everyone had gone home. My father split us up into several groups and sent us out to the farms of the settlers to ask the men to make good on their pledges from the night before. At every house we entered we encountered the same story – the men were very, very sorry but simply could not honour their pledge because of circumstances that had arisen unexpectedly. One settler’s horse had suddenly gone lame, another’s wife was about to give birth any day, another’s potatoes had to come in before the frost. They were all terribly sorry, but would we like to come in for a drink, perhaps?
    By the late afternoon, not only had we not received a single new recruit, we were still one man short. That man, it turned out, was Pierre. That didn’t surprise me. I vaguely remembered seeing him take a fancy to a particular girl on the dance floor the night before.
    As evening settled, my father was in such a fit of rage I thought he would burst or even shoot somebody.
    â€œShould we prepare to bed down in the hall again tonight, sir?” asked one of the soldiers.
    â€œNo!” screamed my father. “We leave now! We’ll camp in the woods!”
    I confess I felt a little bit sorry for him then. It was hard not to. He was filled with so much determination and was trying so hard to do his duty. But his determination went against the grain of almost everyone else on the expedition. His duty included killing people, and that was insane to me. I still could not believe we were travelling to Annapolis Royal to do