Food for Thought

A Haunting Tale

67 Comments

To a large degree, we are all here because of chance. If my mother had married another man, there would be no me. The same is true for my brother. Another daughter or another son, perhaps, but not the two of us with our exact genetic inheritance.

However, for my friend Ed Vigneault, the story of his existence is even more weighted by chance, a tragic, improbable tale that started sometime around 1815 in the waters off the Magdalen Islands, a small archipelago in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. The archipelago is part of the province of Québec, and its French name is Îsles de-la-Madeleine. Population: 12,781.

According to Wikipedia, the territory once belonged to the Mi’kmaw Nation, and they named this cluster of islands Menquit, which means “battered by waves.” Later, it would be called Menagoesenog, or “battered by the surf. ” Both names give a vivid description of the rough waters that pound the Magdalen Islands, and through the years there have been over 400 shipwrecks. Some of the islanders are descendants of the survivors. And even though he isn’t an islander, this brings the story back to my friend Ed and the year 1815, long before Ed was born.

A ship from Europe, probably from the British Isles, was sailing to Canada. But before the ship reached port and was somewhere near the Magdalen Islands, a terrible storm blew in, a tempest. The ship was obviously in trouble, but the storm was so bad that none of the fisherman from the islands dared go out to rescue the passengers.

As the islanders feared, the shipped crashed against the rocks, throwing passengers into the ocean.  On a beach near Dune du Sud on the island Havre aux Maisons, bodies washed onto the sand. As the islanders searched for survivors, they found a heartbreaking sight: A  dead woman clutching a baby, who, incredible as it might seem, was alive. That baby was Ed’s great-great-grandmother, and a family—the Cummings—on Havre aux Maisons adopted her, naming the baby Sophie Peine. Because of her tragic beginning, Sophie was also known as “La Petite Misère,” which I’m sure needs no translation even for those who don’t speak French.

I first heard this story, told by Ed in broad outlines, at a gathering at a friend’s house, and I was immediately gripped by it. In my mind’s eye, I could see dead bodies—some face up, some face down—washed on a sandy beach. Waves break over them, pushing them farther up the beach and then rolling them back a little. With resignation, the islanders come to the beach, searching for survivors. Dead, dead, dead. Then they hear an infant cry and find baby Sophie in her dead mother’s arms. I think of the force of will it must have taken for that mother—Ed’s great-great-great grandmother—to hold on to that baby, to not let go as the ocean threw them toward the rocks and the sand. If the mother had loosened her grip just once, the baby would have been swept away to drown, and there would have been no Ed.

Knowing I was interested in hearing more, Ed and his wife Becky invited me over for tea one morning so he could fill in the details. He told me that when his niece and his sister started doing genealogy, she discovered the sad story of Sophie Peine. He spoke of how Sophie lived to be a woman and married a man named Bénoni Arseneau. They would have many children together, and eventually they moved to Natashquan, in the Province of Québec. The community is so remote that until 1996, it could only reached by either plane or boat. Ed’s great-grandmother would be born in  Natashquan, and it was in Natashquan, on dry land, that Sophie, La Petite Misère, died.

When he was done talking about his family, Ed brought out a small plastic container. Inside was sand, scooped from the beach on the island where Sophie and her mother washed up. On top of the sand was a little piece of driftwood.

Ed said, “I like to think this piece of wood came from the ship Sophie was on.”

I just nodded. Such a lovely thought that connects Ed to his great-great-grandmother, the improbable survivor of a storm that took so many lives, including the life her own mother.

 

 

 

67 thoughts on “A Haunting Tale”

  2. A very poignant story Laurie and how wonderful that Sophie survived and you’ve met one of her descendants 💚

  3. What a wonderful story and the fact he treasures the sand and drifwood which gives him a sense of connection.

    As for chance. My mother was due to go to America then she met my father and the course of her ife changed.

  5. What an amazing story Laurie, and how true it is that we are all here by chance. Family history is fascinating, but often very poignant as your story tells. I could imagine how the mother felt, and what a traumatic and sad end to her life. If only she knew her baby was safe and thriving. Lovely to think that Ed has many ancestors as a result of this mother’s love.

    1. So true! Last night as my daughter, my husband, and I discussed this, my daughter speculated that the mother might have died on the beach either from injuries or from taking in too much water. We’ll never know, which just makes the story that much more haunting.

  7. What a fascinating piece of your friend’s history! All uncovered by a desire to know from where they came. I can see why you were drawn to know more. Thanks for sharing Ed’s story.

  9. I just bought (after hearing an interview with the author), a book called “Fluke,” by Brian Klaas. You will no doubt find it interesting because he addresses those weird little (and big) slips in time and space that change everything. His tagline is “We control nothing; we influence everything.”

  16. Haunting, indeed: but wonderful in its way. Life is filled with coincidences, serendipitous events, and pure chance, but this is an extraordinary example of all three. I’m so glad you were able to learn some of the details, and I’m glad you shared them with us.

  17. That’s a very touching story, Laurie. Like you, I have often pondered how chance has affected my existence and I can imagine that that question is even more burning for someone with Ed’s family history.

      1. It’s mind-boggling to try to think about so many events in history, and how their course might have been altered by just the slightest modification of one of the countless factors that were at work.

  18. Thank you to Ed for allowing you to share his story with your readers, which you have done so in such a beautifully sensitive manner.

  19. What a fascinating, haunting story. I’m always intrigued by the tension that exists between “what is” and “what might have been”. My mother’s house in the east end of London was totally destroyed during one of the first bombing raids of WW2. Luckily she wasn’t home at the time; if she had been she’d have died and I would never have existed. So my life, and everything I’ve said and done during its course, are the result of her not being in the wrong place at the wrong time one day in 1940. Thank you, Mum!

    It’s good that Ed has kept his great-great-grandmother’s story alive, and that you have shared it with us, as a reminder that – in the end – we are ruled by chance.

  25. What a lovely story Laurie. My parents were rather hoping I would be a boy who would be called David. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if a different sperm had won the race.

  30. A remarcable story but “What will be will be.” I really believe that. I used to have a beautysalon and I listened to the stories my clients told me and they were often amazing. As for my story, I met my husband in France, he was there on a vacation and I was working there for 6 month’s to learn better French. If his dad would have been alive at that time my husband would have been in Belgium studying, I was there because I had to wait 6 months before I was going for a special course. I think we were both there because we could meet.

      1. I believe chance doesn’t really exist as what will happen shall happen weather you like it or not. It is destiny . But not everyone is ok with it, and I respect it.

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