Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier

  CHAPTER XI

  That same night, about the hour that Marie breathed her last, Charles dela Pommeraye was riding furiously along the road leading eastward toParis, where the King was holding a temporary court. He rode all night,and just as the first faint streaks of morning revealed in the distancethe grey outline of the towers of Notre Dame, his horse thundered intothe sleeping city.

  He had had a weary voyage home; what winds there were had been adverse;for nearly a month Cartier's vessels had lain becalmed in mid-ocean; andit was not till the end of August that St Malo, with its towering wallsand rugged battlements, was reached.

  The three vessels had been joyously welcomed by the Malouins. Themerchants who had made large advances to the daring adventurers, in thehope of being recouped from the treasures of the New World, felt amomentary pang at their losses: but private disappointment was forgottenin the public rejoicing at the safe return of their daring andworld-famous fellow-townsman, Jacques Cartier.

  La Pommeraye found but little pleasure in these festivities. He waspossessed by the one idea of seeing Marguerite as soon as possible.Absence had in no way dimmed her image in his mind; fickle andimpressionable as he usually was, the best and noblest part of hisnature had been awakened by his love for the beautiful girl whom he hadmet under such unusual circumstances, and of whom he had as yet seen solittle. Now that fortune seemed to be favouring him, he cursed everyobstacle that kept him an instant longer from her side. At the earliestopportunity he made his escape from the enthusiastic and admiringMalouins; and having disposed of a quantity of rich furs which he hadpurchased at Tadousac before leaving the St Lawrence, he bought a horse,and set out for Picardy--as the most likely place to hear news of Mdlle.de Roberval, even if he did not find her at the castle.

  In order to get away as soon as possible he was obliged to give Cartierthe slip. The latter was anxious to proceed at once to court, to reportthe failure of his attempt to found a colony, and to request permissionto return and bring back De Roberval. It would be out of the question,however, to start before the spring, as the season was now so faradvanced; and La Pommeraye decided to let Cartier go to court withouthim, as the winter would give them plenty of time to consider theirplans.

  He incidentally learned that Roberval had sailed from La Rochelleinstead of St Malo, as he had supposed; but the idea that he might havetaken his niece with him naturally never entered his head, and no one inSt Malo was able to give him any information.

  Accordingly, one morning early in September, he mounted his horse andset out on his long ride to the banks of the Somme. It was a longjourney; but love let him rest nor day nor night till he had arrived atthe end. Nor did he accomplish it without adventure. One morning, abouta day's ride from his destination, he met two gay cavaliers, with finelycaparisoned horses, speeding on their way to Paris. They saw thedust-stained horse, and dustier rider, and, thinking it would be finesport to whet their blades on his clumsy sword, bore down upon him.

  But they had miscalculated their man; and as the first gallant checkedhis horse within a few feet of La Pommeraye, his heart grew weak withinhim as he saw the determined eye and smiling lips of the man he hadexpected to see turn and flee before him.

  "Have at thee, my dainty cock-robin!" said La Pommeraye. "Methinks thesmoke from yonder hostel bespeaks a ready breakfast, and I shall dogreater justice to the meal after a little exercise. Have at thee!"

  The young nobleman grew pale to the lips, but manfully faced the trialhe had himself invited. Their horses danced about each other for a fewmoments, sparks flew from their flashing blades, but the contest was anunequal one. The youth tried hard to reach the breast of his opponent,but his every thrust was met by a determined guard; and when LaPommeraye thought the breathing-time before breakfast had been ofsufficient length, he made a few quick passes that the young man's eyecould not follow, struck up his antagonist's sword, made a lightningthrust at a broad silver ornament that adorned the gay rider's breast,pushed him from his horse, and laughed a merry laugh as the lad sat upin the dusty road, wondering at his escape. His companion, who had stoodby enjoying the contest, heartily joined in the laugh.

  "Nobly done!" he exclaimed in admiration, "you handle your sword as ifyou had been wont to play before King Francis. Henri, thou art not anapt pupil; thou should'st have used thy horse more, and trusted less tothy arms. If Monsieur is not tired with the contest, would he be pleasedto measure swords with me? He will find me no mere lad."

  "With all the pleasure in life," said Charles, smiling, "But I fear methe bacon at yonder inn will be burnt to a crisp unless I hurry on myway; so draw at once; I have not time to bandy words."

  "Have a care, Jules," cried Henri; "he is the Devil."

  La Pommeraye caught the name.

  "Have I the honour to cross swords with Jules Marchand?" said he. "Yourfame is not unknown to me; and were it not for the fact that I am inhaste to be at my journey's end, I would fain prolong the fight; as itis, it must be short and sharp."

  Like a flash his weapon shot out; like a flash the other met it. Butthough the swordsman was La Pommeraye's equal in skill, he lacked brawn;and, they had scarce played for a minute's space when Jules Marchand'ssword was wrenched from his hand, and he was left sitting, black withwrath, upon his charger, which whinnied as if in recognition of hismaster's mishap.

  "Pardon, gentlemen," said Charles, smiling, "I must not dally longer bythe way. Were you not going in the opposite direction, I would inviteyou to breakfast with me. But beware, hereafter, how you attack lonetravellers; were it not that France, now that Spain is once more in armsagainst her, needs every man who is able to bear a sword, I should haveleft one of you, at least, by the roadside."

  So saying, he waved the two gallants a laughing adieu, and rode away.

  "The Devil, or La Pommeraye," said Jules.

  "Neither! Too merry for the Devil," answered Henri, "and La Pommeraye,we heard, was killed in Paris."

  "Nay," replied Jules, "that report was false. But it is true that he isno longer in France. Guillaume Leblanc saw him on board one of Cartier'sships, making for the New World. I was glad of the tidings, I have toconfess. His skill and strength made me dread meeting him; and hisdeparture left me the first swordsman in France; for despite DeRoberval's reputation, he was of an old school, and easy to defeat. Butnow it seems I am but a poor second. But let us to Paris, and find outwho this dashing cavalier may be."

  La Pommeraye continued his journey, and loitered but little on the waytill Picardy was reached. A few of Roberval's retainers were about hiscastle; and from them he learned that the nobleman had not only gone tothe New World himself, but had taken his niece with him.

  The news fell on him like a thunderbolt. Thousands of miles of stormysea lay between him and the face that haunted his dreams. As he thoughthow near he had been to her in the harbour of St John, his heart boundedmadly within him, and his eyeballs beat upon his brain.

  But he was not long in planning a course of action. He would hasten tocourt, and find means of returning to the New World at once. Destructiononly could await the colonists, and he shuddered as he thought of thetenderly-nurtured girls exposed to the fierce storms and bitter cold ofa Canadian winter.

  So his good horse was saddled once more, and the measured beat of itshoofs became swifter and yet swifter as Paris was neared.

  Once in the city, he lost no time in presenting a request for anaudience with the King, and the announcement of his name, and the natureof his errand, readily gained him admission to Francis' presence.

  He found that Cartier had been before him by a few days, and had urgedthe necessity of recalling Roberval, and the hopelessness of anyattempts to colonise the New World. The King had been greatlydisappointed by the downfall of all the hopes and brilliant prophecieswith which the expedition had started. He had rewarded Cartier's braveryand enterprise with the promise of a patent of nobility, but seemedreluctant to encourage the idea of withdrawing the second detachment ofcolonists. He was inc
lined to suspect that jealousy of De Roberval, anddisappointment at his own failure, had something to do with Cartier'sanxiety to break up a scheme on which his heart had been set a yearbefore. La Pommeraye saw his hopes receding into the distance; his heartsank within him.

  "But what thinks the Duke of Guise?" said the King, suddenly, turning tothat veteran nobleman, who was now his chief adviser, occupying theplace that Anne de Montmorenci had so long filled.

  The Duke had been standing silently by during the interview, regardingLa Pommeraye with a meditative air.

  "Methinks, sire," he answered, "that there is much wisdom in what theyoung man urges. Already we have cast too much good treasure away inthese vain enterprises; and now that Spain needs our utmost attention,we can spare neither men nor money for schemes of foreign colonisation."

  "You hear, M. La Pommeraye," said Francis, "what the Duke says; but wehad hoped to fill our coffers with the riches of Canada."

  "May it please your Majesty," said Charles, "there are no riches there,save a few furs and fish. These might serve to give a St Malo orRochelle merchant enough wealth to retire on, and provide for hisdaughters, but would not go very far towards fitting out a battalion. Ihad had great hopes of the enterprise, but the experiences of lastwinter have taught me that nothing is to be gained by our struggles tocolonise the barren North. The noble fellows who are wasting their livesin that sterile land, with only murderers and robbers as companions,would be far better in France, protecting her shores from foreigninvasion."

  "There is truth in what you say," answered the King, after a moment'spause. "We are much in need of De Roberval. The Picards worship the'Little King of Vimeu,' and if he does not return, we fear we shall getbut scant funds and few troops from the sturdy men of his province. Butwhat is it that you would have?"

  "A ship, Sire," promptly replied La Pommeraye, "manned and provisionedfor a voyage to Canada, and permission to Cartier to return in it, andrecall Roberval to France."

  "_Parbleu!_" said the King, "a modest request! Well, we will considerthe matter, and see what course it will be best to take."

  "But, Sire," said Charles, his distress and anxiety getting the betterof his diplomacy, "the winter draws near, and unless we start at once weshall not be able to reach Charlesbourg Royal till spring."

  As he finished speaking, the Duke of Guise, who had been conversingaside with some one near him during the last few sentences, turned tothe King.

  "May it please you, Sire," said he, "this mad nephew of mine is desirousof a favour at your hands. It seems he owes his life to this gallantgentleman, and he prays me to entreat you to grant him whatever herequests."

  As he spoke, Charles recognised in the gay young cavalier, who now cameforward, his discomfited antagonist of the adventure on the road toPicardy.

  "We have met before," said he, bowing to La Pommeraye. "Sire, this isnone other than the redoubtable swordsman whose deeds have been buzzedthrough the court for a week--to the lasting chagrin of Jules Marchand.Uncle, if you love me, you owe him a debt of gratitude. That I am not atthis moment in heaven, praying for your soul, is due solely to hisgenerosity."

  "Nay," interrupted La Pommeraye, "my generosity saved you not; it wasthe silver star you wore on your breast. I had intended to run youthrough; but that sparkling bauble caught my eye, and I could not resistthe novel experience of tilting at you with my rapier."

  A hearty laugh, in which the King joined, rang out from those who stoodnear, for all knew of the adventure which the mirth-loving Henri ofGuise had related with due embellishment.

  "We have not had so good a joke since we came to Paris," said Francis,"as that encounter has furnished us. Your doughty deeds deserve areward. The ship is yours, and Cartier has our permission to go; but weshall not compel him to leave France unless he wishes. And as formanning the vessel, you will have to find some other means, for everyson is needed to protect France from our Spanish foes."

  So it came about, that at the end of September La Pommeraye foundhimself once more crossing the Sillon, with power to purchase a shipand start at once to bid Roberval return to France. His first proceedingwas to seek out Cartier, and inform him of his successful mission.

  He found, however, that the experienced and wary seaman was not to bepersuaded into undertaking the voyage before the spring. He displayedsmall warmth over the concessions of the King; and declared that, owingto the unforeseen delays which had retarded them on the voyage home, itwas now so late that it would be madness to attempt to cross the oceanbefore the winter set in.

  "In any case," he said, "De Roberval cannot do otherwise than we havedone. This winter will prove to them that their efforts are in vain;they will be forced to return in the spring."

  "But," said La Pommeraye, "think of the noble women with them! Thewinter will kill them!"

  "I did not know they were with Roberval," said Cartier. "I supposed hewould have had the good sense to leave them behind."

  "I have been in Picardy and in Paris," returned Charles, "and I havelearned beyond a doubt that they went with him. We must reach them atonce, or the scurvy, cold, or Indians will surely destroy them."

  "We shall have to trust to Providence till spring, at all events,"replied Cartier. "We could not reach the Gulf of St Lawrence before theice makes. It would be October before we should get under way, and youremember the Hochelaga was bridged just one month later last year. Novessel need hope to make the arduous journey across the Atlantic in lessthan six weeks."

  La Pommeraye, in his impulsiveness, had not thought of this; and as thetruth of the sailor's words flashed upon him, he felt that his friendswere doomed.

  He accepted the inevitable with what stoicism he could, and unable tostay in St Malo, he returned to Paris to fill up his time as best hemight until spring arrived. But the gay life about the court had nofascination for him. Dice and the wine-cup failed to attract him, andwomen marvelled at the handsome young Hercules who displayed suchindifference to all their charms. Excitement of a manlier sort he musthave; and although there were no battles of any great importance to befought, the frontier engagements gave abundant opportunity for suchswords as his. His old renown soon returned to him; and tales of hiswondrous daring found their way to Fontainebleau, to be marvellouslyenlarged on by his staunch friend and admirer, Henri of Guise.

  But he never swerved from his purpose, and as soon as the March sunbegan to warm the soil, he turned his horse's head towards St Malo.

  On his arrival there, he found to his surprise that Cartier was no moreenthusiastic over the expedition than he had been in the autumn. Thatinsatiable wanderer seemed at last to have had enough of adventures bysea and land. He had received his patent of nobility from the King, andsince the sufferings and discouragements of his last voyage, theprospect of comfort and honours in France seemed to hold moreinducements for him than the idea of once more facing the dangers of thedeep. His limbs were not so sturdy as of old, his eye had lost somethingof its keenness, and the hardships and anxieties of the last winter hadleft their mark upon him. He had money enough to support him to the endof his days, and he had purchased the seignorial mansion ofLimoilou--that ancient stone house which is still pointed out with prideby the Malouins as the residence of their great sailor. When Charlesarrived, he was just about to instal himself and his family in his newabode.

  He was willing to sell him his good ship, _L'Emerillon_, and to do allin his power to further the success of his efforts, but he was soevidently reluctant to tear himself away once more from the peacefulhome, whose comfort he was only beginning to appreciate, that Charlesresolved not to keep him to the letter of his promise, but to undertakethe voyage alone. A capable sailing-master, Gaspard Girouard, was found,_L'Emerillon_ was soon fitted out; and as she was ostensibly merelygoing to Canada to bring back a load of furs, more hardy seamen thanwere necessary flocked to join her on her voyage.

  The April breezes wafted them across the Atlantic without mishap. Theyintended to take the southern passage, but a sa
vage spring gale blewthem far out of their course, and they steered away for the Straits ofBelle Isle. The sailors saw, as they skirted the Newfoundland coast, adistant rocky island on the horizon. As Charles gazed upon it henoticed smoke curling upwards.

  "What strange places," he said, turning to Girouard, "these nakedsavages select to abide in! I have wandered much in the wilds of Canada,but never came on a place that seemed too desolate for them."

  "No savages make those fires," said an old sailor who was standing by."Yonder is the smoke of hell. That is the Isle of Demons."

  La Pommeraye laughed at the absurd superstition, and kept his eye fixedon the distant point of land with the column of smoke, which seemed togrow larger with each moment. But darkness soon fell upon the ocean, andthe dim outline of the island at last faded from his view.

  Had he but known! That smoke was a signal from the weary watchers on theisland, who, on one of the unhappiest and saddest days of their desolatelives, saw in that distant sail hopes of release from their cruelprison. Eagerly they heaped up a huge fire to attract the passing craft,little thinking that it was in search of them that she was speeding onher white-winged way.

  In a few days _L'Emerillon_ had passed from the Bay of St Lawrence intothe river of Hochelaga. A favouring wind bore her on past the deep,black mouth of the Saguenay, and soon the Isle of Bacchus was spreadbefore the sailors' weary eyes, green, beautiful, and fresh, with thehigh Falls of Montmorenci leaping wildly down on the opposite shore. Onto Charlesbourg Royal they sailed; and a horrible dread seized LaPommeraye as he approached the place. A dead silence reigned on thesteep banks of the broad river. A substantial structure now stood whereCartier had had his rude fort, and its two towers loomed up before theeyes of the Frenchmen. Other buildings could be seen here and there, butno living soul appeared in sight; and in the anchorage, where he hadlooked for the ships of the colonists, not even a canoe could be seen.Could they have grown tired of the life here, and started further up thestream--to Hochelaga, perhaps? But no time was to be lost. When thesilent shore was within a stone's throw the anchor was run out, and thevessel rested from her long journey. A boat was lowered, and LaPommeraye went on shore and explored the castle-like structure thatcrowned the heights, the empty halls and chambers, the gaping shelvesand bins in the storehouses, the deep and vacant cellars, the greatovens, and the two silent watermills, all told him of the hopes whichhad filled the heart of De Roberval. Everything had been carefullyremoved from the place, and there were evident traces of Indians; but asthere were no marks of a struggle, and no dead to be seen, Charlesconcluded that they had merely visited the place to pick up whatever thewhites had chanced to leave behind.

  A rude plot of ground, with several new-made graves, told him that KingDeath had visited the young colony, and the high gallows in the squarehinted that the stern-willed nobleman had helped the cold and scurvy tolessen the population.

  Charles would not return without making sure that his friends had leftthe New World, and so, after a fruitless search for natives, who seemedto have betaken themselves to better hunting-grounds, he boarded hisship, weighed anchor, and rested not till he was within the shadow ofMont Royal. Here he met a chieftain, Agona by name, whom he had formerlyknown, and who had taken the place of old Donnacona. From him he learnedof De Roberval's sufferings and failure. He could learn nothing definiteabout Claude or Marguerite, but as there had been other noblemen in thecolony, he did not so much wonder at that. But there was no doubt thatthey had all departed. His journey had been in vain; and with a heavyheart he set about retracing once more all those weary miles which laybetween him and the woman he loved.