CHAPTER XII
Having left his niece and her companions on the Isle of Demons, Robervalhad steered his course for the Hochelaga, and about the middle of Junethe rocky heights of Stadacona loomed up before him. His tyrannicalseverity on the voyage had made all his men stand in awe of him, and hislightest word of reproof would make the most dogged villain on hisvessel tremble for his neck. All were indeed glad when the anchors weredropped off Cap Rouge, and none more so than Roberval himself.
The narrow limits of his vessel's deck had preyed upon his ambitiousspirit; and the horrors of the voyage, caused by his own self-will andstubbornness, stood before him like a nightmare. Scarcely had the Isleof Demons sunk from sight on the horizon, when his conscience began toprick him; and he would have returned for the women whom he had set onshore, but he feared lest his followers should think that there was inhim the milk of human kindness.
Most of all he dreaded Gaillon. He knew that he had placed himself to acertain extent at the man's mercy, and that fact alone was enough toawaken in him a deadly hatred of the cringing scoundrel, who dogged hisfootsteps like a shadow. He resolved to get rid of him at the earliestpossible moment; and yet he dreaded to take any steps towards removinghim. He remembered the sudden and mysterious death of the young Picardsailor; he remembered also Gaillon's offer to rid him silently andsurely of all his enemies. The man was a poisoner, a demon who worked inthe dark, without soul, without honour. On board ship Roberval felt moreor less assured of safety; but as his destination drew nigh he made uphis mind that, once on land, Gaillon must be put out of the way, or hewould not be free one moment from the terror of assassination.
Gaillon himself was quick to divine all that passed in Roberval's mind.His vigilant eye took notice of the slightest signs which revealed thenobleman's attitude towards him; but no change in his own manner andbearing could have been observed, except that he was, if possible, moreservile and obsequious than ever.
Matters were in this state when the vessels passed up the Hochelaga, andthe towering heights of Stadacona loomed up, majestic and strong, beforethem. De Roberval's quick eye noted at once what a magnificent placethis would be for headquarters for his colony; but as he skirted thehigh cliffs, a shower of flint-headed arrows fell on his deck, andwarned him that the red men welcomed him as an enemy. To terrify them,he sent a broadside from his guns against the huge natural fortress,which re-echoed with the unwonted sound, and the frightened Indiansfled far inland to escape the unusual thunder.
At Charlesbourg Royal the French landed without opposition. Busy handssoon made habitable the rude dwellings which Cartier had left; from thefirst streaks of dawn till the sun sank behind the hills of the StLawrence, the shouts of men, the singing of saws, and the clanging ofhammers resounded over the broad river. A somewhat pretentious villagerose on the heights; and in the centre of it, in place of the flimsystructure designed by Cartier as a gallows, stood a strong, blackerection, ominously awaiting a victim.
It had not to wait long. The more devoted and cringing Gaillon became,the more did Roberval's uneasiness and distrust of him increase. Anxietyand remorse had actually disturbed the balance of the nobleman's mind.He realised that he was not himself, but felt convinced that he couldnever regain his self-control, or know a moment's peace of mind, till hehad got rid of the vile wretch whom he had in a manner taken into hisconfidence, and who haunted his sleeping and waking hours. Chance placedan opportunity in his way.
Although the colonists had brought plenty of powder and ball with them,they were ill provided with food for a protracted season. They hadexpected that Cartier would have an abundant crop growing round hisestablishment, but they found that he had not even broken the soil thatyear. They found, too, that the Indians held aloof, and would do naughtto help them. The few stragglers whom they could attract by "firewater,"had no stores of food, as they were too inert to till the soil, anddepended merely on game and fish; feasting while it was abundant, andstarving when it was scarce.
Roberval was a man of shrewd foresight. He carefully gauged hissupplies, and saw just how much could be allowed each man to carry himthrough the long autumn and winter months; then he sent forth an orderthat any man taking more than his allowance would meet with severepunishment. Shortly after the order had been issued, it was discoveredthat some one had entered the stores by night, and taken a quantity ofprovisions. A watch was secretly set, and a few nights afterwards thethief was caught, and proved to be no other than Gaillon.
Seeing the direction Roberval's thoughts were taking, and that hisschemes for advancement were hopeless, the man had resolved to desertthe colony; and to that end had begun to secrete a supply of foodsufficient to support him till he could join one of the wandering bandsof Indians further up the country. He was brought before Roberval, whoimmediately ordered him to the gallows. The wretch fell on his knees,but Roberval was deaf to entreaties and curses alike.
"To the gallows with him!" he repeated. "We are well rid of such avillain."
Gaillon's character was well known, and no one pitied his fate. Scarcelya man in the colony did not breathe more freely when he knew that itwas beyond his power to work any further mischief; but they shudderedas they looked upon his dangling form, and wondered who next among themwould meet a similar fate.
In the meantime, De Roberval had not forgotten his promise to return forhis niece. But he had greatly miscalculated the distance and the time itwould take a ship to go and return. In the present condition of thecolony it would be utterly out of the question for him to be absent inperson for so long a period. He had no difficulty, however, in findingone or two of the young noblemen who were willing to undertake theexpedition; but an obstacle presented itself on which he had notcounted. Not a man among the sailors could be found who was willing toreturn to the dreaded spot. Threats, commands, persuasions were alike invain; no power on earth could have induced the crews to venture near theplace where they had seen with their own eyes the flames of hell, andthe demons hastening to claim their victims.
Roberval dared not attempt force. Able-bodied seamen were too few andtoo precious to risk the loss of even one. He was obliged to give up theattempt, and to resign himself to all the horrors of remorse. Whateverhe may have felt he kept it to himself, and no man dared open his lipson the subject.
Winter set in, and proved a terrible one for the inhabitants ofCharlesbourg Royal. They suffered keenly from the cold; and theirmiseries were greatly increased by the scarcity of food. Few dared gobeyond the walls to seek supplies, as the prowling savages were everready to cut them off. They lived, too, in constant dread of DeRoberval's iron rule; and for the slightest offences they were broughtto the whipping-post, cast into the guardhouse, chained hand and foot,or led shivering to the gallows. Scurvy, too, broke out, and no Indiancould be found to direct them to the tree whose virtues had once savedthe remnants of Cartier's crew. They fell like the brown leaves beforethe frosts of autumn; and the feeble arms of their suffering andhalf-starved comrades made the walls resound with the dull thud of thepick, as they almost daily cut into the hard, frozen ground, to makeready graves. Those of gentler blood had nearly all succumbed, and nopriest was left to give the last rites to the dead. When spring came,almost half the colony had disappeared, and those who survived werenaught but living skeletons.
When the ice had left the river, and the snows the land, Robervaldetermined to make an effort to explore the great inland seas which hadbeen depicted on Cartier's map, and if possible to find the spot wherethe nugget of gold had been discovered. But he had no idea of thedistances in this vast continent; and after a month's struggling upturbulent rivers, and over rugged stretches where the foot of white manhad never before trod, he returned disheartened to his settlement. Herehe found that the men he had left in charge had been taking advantage ofhis absence to hold high revels, and the wildest confusion reigned inthe fort. Disgusted and hopeless, he resolved to break up his colony andreturn to France, his ambition thwarted, his hopes rudely shattered,an
d his dreams of glory and renown in the New World faded into nothingbut bitter memories and unvailing regrets.
As he sailed down the Gulf of St Lawrence with the handful of men whowere left to him, he resolved to make one more effort to return to theIsle of Demons, and learn, at any rate, what he could of the fate of thethree women--though he had no thought of the possibility that they mighthave survived. But when the crew learned whither they were bound, theyrose in a body and mutinied. A few of those on board stood by Robervalin his resolve, but they were overborne, some of them struck down; andDe Roberval, seeing his own life in danger, ordered Jehan Alfonse, whohad returned to his allegiance, a sadder and a wiser man--like hiscommander--to steer away for France.
And thus, while Charles skirted the north of Newfoundland, De Robervalwas leaving the mouth of the Hochelaga; and, sailing westward past theisland of Cape Breton, kept on his steady way across the ocean.
On his arrival at La Rochelle, he let the mutineers go unmolested,fearing lest the story of his niece might be noised abroad. When hereturned to court he reported that both girls had died in the New World.Rumours of the truth went up and down the land; but the court and theChurch were silent, for the King stood in need of De Roberval. The highesteem in which he was held led all who learned the tale to believethat if he had been cruel, his cruelty must have been but the justpunishment of guilt; and for the sake of the ancient and honourable nameof his house, no one dared ask him any questions.
De Roberval threw himself and all his energies into the new war whichwas in progress, and in the clash of arms and the excitement of battletried to drown the nightmare conscience that gave him no rest by nightor day.
In the meantime La Pommeraye had arrived at Charlesbourg Royal with theresults already narrated. His buoyant nature sank in despair when hebecame convinced that he and the nobleman had passed each other on thebroad Atlantic. He had come three thousand miles over dangerous seas tolook upon Marguerite, and now he must re-travel the same weary distancealone. He bade adieu to Agona, who would have had the fair giant staywith him, and accompany him and his tribe far past the "leaping waters,"as they called the rapids at Lachine, for he had planned a great huntingexpedition to the inland seas. La Pommeraye would fain have gone withhim, but even though he thought Marguerite safe in France, he could notbring himself to stay away from where she was an hour longer than hecould help.
So he sailed down the Hochelaga; and as he wished to bring some returnfor his voyage back to France with him, he turned his vessel's headtowards the Saguenay, intending to get a supply of furs from the Indiansof that deep, dark river. The rocky heights, based with rollingstretches of barren sand, soon rose before him. Far up, he saw thegranite bluffs rising step above step, and he had a strong desire tofollow where they might lead; but Marguerite drew him away. Fortunatelya cluster of wigwams studded the shores about Tadousac, and LaPommeraye, who had spent a month in that region, with these very tribes,had little trouble in loading his vessel, at small cost, with a valuablecargo of furs. From these Indians, too, he heard tales of Roberval'scolony; and as they related in their grave, stoical way the sufferingsthe French had endured, and the number of men who had fallen beneath theiron hand of De Roberval, his heart was moved with pity for hisfellow-countrymen. Of Claude and Marguerite he could learn nothing.According to the Indians' accounts no women at all answering to Charles'descriptions had been with De Roberval; and several Montagnais warriors,who had known Claude when he crossed with Cartier in 1535, and who wellremembered the reserved, dark-eyed young Frenchman, declared that he,too, had not been at the colony.
This news greatly troubled Charles, and as soon as his vessel was wellloaded, clapping on all sail, he once more sped on his way across thegreat northern ocean, which had now lost all its terrors for him.
It was September before his ship reached St Malo, and, after leaving herin the hands of the merchants who had put money into the enterprise, hehurried to Cartier, who was in Paris on business, and laid before himall he had seen and heard.
Cartier had more than a suspicion of the reasons which had inducedCharles first to come back to France, and then to be in such mad hasteto return to Canada. He was a shrewd observer, and had drawn his ownconclusions, but discreetly kept them to himself. He now stood lookingat his stalwart, handsome young friend and fellow-voyager with a greatpity at his heart, and wondered how he could break to him the news ofthe rumours he had heard.
"La Pommeraye," he said at last, "my arm is not as strong as it oncewas, or I should be more than tempted to strike a blow at a man whom weonce called friend."
"Whom do you mean?" cried Charles, a vague anxiety roused within him atthe sight of Cartier's face.
"I mean De Roberval."
"Why, what has he done? Is there bad news? Tell me at once, I beg ofyou! What have you heard?"
"I do not know what he has done. I have seen no one since his return whowas with him at Charlesbourg Royal; but it is rumoured in Paris thatneither Mdlle. de Roberval nor Claude de Pontbriand ever reachedCanada."
For the first time, as he heard those two names coupled together, adawning suspicion of the truth rose in La Pommeraye's mind, only to beswallowed up in the undefined and horrible fear suggested by Cartier'sfinal words. He rose, with a face like death, and laid his hand onCartier's arm.
"Tell me at once what you mean!" he said.
"I know nothing accurately. The only thing certain is, that they did notreturn with him. I have heard wild tales, with I know not how much truthin them, that he put his niece and her companion ashore at Cape Bretonor Newfoundland, and that De Pontbriand, who could not prevent hisdastardly act, threw himself into the sea, and tried to swim to theshore, but sank ere he reached it."
Charles swore a great and fearful oath. Then he walked over to thewindow, and stood with his back to Cartier, looking out into the street.When he turned round, his face was twenty years older.
"Where is he?" was all he said.
"Act not rashly," said Cartier gently. "It may be mere rumour. I havetried to verify the tale, but each time I have heard it, it has beenfrom some one who was never out of France, and it has been told with somany variations that I have begun to hope that, after all, it has but avery small foundation in fact."
"I have known that all was not right," replied Charles, "ever since Ileft the Indians at Tadousac. Tell me at once where De Roberval is! Ileave no stone unturned till I have found out the truth. Would to God Ihad killed him that night on the Sillon!"
"The last I heard of him was that he was in Picardy," returned Cartier."But if there is any truth in the story, you are not likely to hear itfrom his lips. He landed in Rochelle. Some of his crew are likely to befound in that town; and, at all events, you will be able to trace someof them, and learn the facts before you do anything further."
The advice was undoubtedly wise; nothing could be gained by confrontingRoberval with vague accusations. Without a moment's loss of time LaPommeraye hastened to La Rochelle; but he could find no trace of any onewho had been with Roberval. The sailors had all gone to sea again; andthose of the colonists who were not already in prison once more were ontheir way to the seat of war. To the front also had gone the one or twogentlemen who were known to have returned from the ill-fated expedition.Strange as it may seem, Charles could obtain absolutely no more definiteinformation than the vague reports which he had already heard.
He learned that Roberval had taken a number of his men back to Picardywith him, and was there doing yeoman service for King Francis. LaPommeraye had done enough travelling in the past few weeks to exhaust aman of ordinary strength; but he seemed incapable of fatigue. Once morehis horse was saddled, and once more he set off on the familiar road toPicardy. The long journey was at last accomplished, and he arrived atthe castle as the bleak November winds were sweeping across the landfrom the English Channel. Roberval was with a small army five milesaway; but La Pommeraye recognised in one of the servants, Etienne Bruleby name, the man who had escaped uninjured from the f
amous encounterwith Pamphilo de Narvaez, and who had ever afterwards regarded LaPommeraye as a being of a supernatural order. This man had been with DeRoberval on his voyage, and from him, after an hour's cross-questioning,La Pommeraye at last elicited the truth. The remembrance of the horrorsthrough which he had passed, and his terror of De Roberval's wrath if itwere discovered that he had related the story of the desertion ofMarguerite, seemed to have muddled the poor fellow's wits, and his talewas wild and incoherent. But he stuck manfully to his assertion that hehad seen Claude reach the shore.
"The others laughed me to scorn," he said, "and some went so far as tosay that they saw the demons drag him down, but I know better. Myeyesight is stronger than theirs, and I saw him rescued and draggedashore by the women. But Monsieur will not speak to the Sieur deRoberval of these things? He foams at the mouth if his niece's name isso much as mentioned; and he would kill me if he found that I had toldyou about her."
Charles heeded not the man's words. Before his eyes he saw a greatpillar of smoke rising up and spreading far over the ocean; he saw hispilot seize the helm and steer away from the dreaded spot. As the visionrose before him he cried aloud in the bitterness of his heart, "O God!Thou art too cruel, too cruel!"
Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier Page 12
