Jacques Cartier
Verrazano and Gomez, and probably the English captain, John Rut, had
all sought for the opening of a strait of salt water--like Magellan's
Straits in the far south--which should lead them through the great
North-American continent to the regions of China and Japan. Yet in
some incomprehensible way they overlooked the two broad passages to
the north and south of Newfoundland--the Straits of Belle Isle and of
Cabot--which would at any rate lead them into the vast Gulf of St.
Lawrence, and thence to the St. Lawrence River and the Great Lakes; a
natural system of waterways connected each with the other and all with
the Mississippi and Missouri, the Arctic Ocean, and Hudson's Bay; nay,
more, with the North Pacific also; so that with a few "portages", or
carryings of canoes from one watershed to another, a traveller of any
enterprise, accompanied by a sturdy crew, can cross the broad
continent of North America at its broadest from sea to sea without
much walking.
Estevão Gomez noticed Cabot Straits between Cape Breton and
Newfoundland, but thought them only a very deep bay. John Rut and
others discerned the Straits of Belle Isle as a wide recess in the
coast rather than the mouth of a channel leading far inland. And yet,
after thirty years of Breton, English, and Portuguese fishing
operations in these waters, there must have been glimmerings of the
existence of the great Gulf of St. Lawrence behind Newfoundland: and
JACQUES CARTIER (or Quartier), who had probably made already one
voyage to Newfoundland (besides a visit to Brazil), suspected that
between Newfoundland and Labrador there lay the opening of the great
sea passage "leading to China". He proposed himself to Philippe de
Chabot, the Admiral of France, as the leader of a new French adventure
to find the North-west Passage, was accepted by King Francis, and at
the age of forty-three years set out, with two ships, from St. Malo in
Brittany, on April 20, 1534, ten years after Verrazano's voyage, and
reached the coast of Newfoundland after a voyage of only twenty days.
As he sailed northwards, past the deeply indented fiords and bays of
eastern Newfoundland (the shores of which were still hugged by the
winter ice), he and his men were much impressed with the incredible
numbers of the sea fowl settled for nesting purposes on the rocky
islands, especially on Funk Island.[1] These birds were guillemots,
puffins, great auks,[2] gannets (called by Cartier _margaulx_), and
probably gulls and eider duck. To his sailors--always hungry and
partly fed on salted provisions, as seamen were down to a few years
ago--this inexhaustible supply of fresh food was a source of great
enjoyment. They were indifferent, no doubt, to the fishy flavour of
the auks and the guillemots, and only noticed that they were
splendidly fat. Moreover, the birds attracted Polar bears "as large as
cows and as white as swans". The bears would swim off from the shore
to the islands (unless they could reach them by crossing the ice), and
the sailors occasionally killed the bears and ate their flesh, which
they compared in excellence and taste to veal.
[Footnote 1: Funk Island--called by Cartier "the Island of Birds"--is
only about 3 miles round, and 46 feet above the sea level. It is 3
miles distant from the coast.]
[Footnote 2: The Great Auk (_Alca impennis_), extinct since about 1844
in Europe and 1870 in Labrador, once had in ancient times a
geographical range from Massachusetts and Newfoundland to Iceland,
Ireland, Scotland, N.E. England, and Denmark. Perhaps nowhere was it
found so abundantly as on the coasts of Eastern Newfoundland and on
Funk Island hard by. The Great Auk was in such numbers on the
north-east coast of Newfoundland that the Amerindians of that country
and of southern Labrador used it as fuel in the winter time, its body
being very full of oil and burning with a splendid flame. The French
seamen called it _pingouin_ ("penguin") from its fatness, and this
name was much later transferred to the real penguins of the southern
seas which are quite unrelated to the auks.]
Passing through the Straits of Belle Isle, Cartier's ships entered
the Gulf of St. Lawrence. They had previously visited the adjoining
coast of Labrador, and there had encountered their first "natives",
members of some Algonkin tribe from Canada, who had come north for
seal fishing (Cartier is clever enough to notice and describe their
birch-bark canoes). After examining the west coast of Newfoundland,
Cartier's ships sailed on past the Magdalen Islands (stopping every
now and then off some islet to collect supplies of sea birds, for the
rocky ground was covered with them as thickly as a meadow with
grass).[3] He reached the north coast of Prince Edward Island, and
this lovely country received from him an enthusiastic description. The
pine trees, the junipers, yews, elms, poplars, ash, and willows, the
beeches and the maples, made the forest not only full of delicious and
stimulating odours, but lovely in its varied tints of green. In the
natural meadows and forest clearings there were red and white
currants, gooseberries, strawberries, raspberries, a vetch which
produced edible peas, and a grass with a grain like rye. The forest
abounded in pigeons, and the climate was pleasant and warm.
[Footnote 3: On the shores of these islands they noticed "several
great beasts like oxen, which have two tusks in the mouth similar to
those of the elephant". These were walruses.]
Later on he coasted New Brunswick, and paused for a time over Chaleur
Bay, hoping it might be the opening to the strait across the continent
of which he was in search; but finding it was not, he continued
northwards till he had almost rounded the Gaspé Peninsula, a course
which would have led him straight away into the wonderful discovery of
the St. Lawrence River, but that, being forced by bad weather into
Gaspé Bay, and perhaps hindered by fog, instead of entering the St.
Lawrence he sailed right across to Anticosti Island. After that,
being baffled by bad weather and doubtful as to his resources lasting
out, he decided to return to France through the Strait of Belle Isle.
So far he had failed to realize two of the most important things in
the geography of this region: the broad southern entrance into the
Gulf of St. Lawrence (subsequently called Cabot Strait), which
separates Newfoundland on the north from Cape Breton Island on the
south, and the broad entrance into the River St. Lawrence between
Anticosti Island and the Gaspé Peninsula.
Yet, whilst staying in Gaspé Bay, he had a very important meeting with
Amerindian natives of the Huron-Iroquois stock, who had come down the
River St. Lawrence from the neighbourhood of Quebec, fishing for
mackerel. These bold, friendly people welcomed the French heartily,
greeting them with songs and dances. But when they saw Cartier erect a
great cross on the land at the entrance to Gaspé Bay (a cross bearing
a shield with the arms of France and the letters "Vive le Roi de
France"), they were ill at ease. It is certain that not one word could
be understood in language between the two parties, for there were as
yet no interpreters; but the Amerindians were probably shrewd enough
to perceive that Cartier was making some claim on the land, and they
explained by signs that they considered all this country belonged to
themselves. Nevertheless, Cartier persuaded two youths, the sons of
one of the chiefs, to go back with him to France on his ship, to learn
the French language, to see what France looked like, and to return
afterwards as interpreters. The boys, though they were practically
kidnapped at first, were soon reconciled to going, especially when
they were dressed in French clothes!
[Illustration: JACQUES CARTIER]
When Cartier was on his way home he sailed in a north-easterly
direction in such a way as to overlook the broad channel between the
Gaspé Peninsula and Anticosti Island, but having rounded the
easternmost extremity of that large island, he coasted along its
northern shores until he caught sight of the opening of the Canadian
channel to the west. He believed then that he had discovered the
long-looked-for opening of the trans-continental passage, and sailed
for France with his wonderful news.
On the 19th of May, 1535, Cartier started again from St. Malo with
three ships, the biggest of which was only 120 tons, while the others
were respectively 60 and 40 tons capacity. The crew consisted of about
112 persons, and in addition there were the two Indian youths who had
been kidnapped on the previous voyage, and were now returning as
interpreters. Instead, however, of reaching Newfoundland in twenty
days, he spent five weeks crossing the Atlantic before he reached his
rendezvous with the other ships at Blanc Sablon, on the south coast of
Labrador; for the easy access to the Gulf of St. Lawrence through
Cabot Strait (between Newfoundland and Cape Breton) was not yet
realized. Once past Anticosti Island, the two Huron interpreters began
to recognize the scenery.[4] They now explained to Cartier that he had
entered the estuary of a vast river. This they said he had only to
pursue in ships and boats and he would reach "Canada" (which was the
name they gave to the district round about Quebec), and that beyond
"Canada" no man had ever been known to reach the end of this great
water; but, they added, it was fresh water, not salt, and this last
piece of information much disheartened Cartier, who feared that he had
not, after all, discovered the water route across North America to the
Pacific Ocean. He therefore turned about and once more searched the
opposite coast of Labrador most minutely, displaying, as he did so, a
seamanship which was little else than marvellous, for it is a very
dangerous coast, the seas are very stormy, and the look-out often
hampered by a sudden rising of dense fog; there are islands and rocks
(some of them almost hidden by the water) and sandbanks; but Cartier
made this survey of southern Labrador without an accident.
[Footnote 4: Anticosti Island received from Cartier the name of "the
Island of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin", in consequence of his
having discovered it to be an island on the feast day of that name. It
did not receive its present title until the late seventeenth century.]
At this period, some three hundred and seventy-five years ago, the
northern coasts of the Gulf of St. Lawrence and of Anticosti Island
swarmed with huge walruses, which were described by Cartier as sea
horses that spent the night on land and the day in the water. They
have long since been exterminated by the English and French seamen and
settlers.
At last Cartier set sail for the south-west, intending to explore this
wonderful river and to reach the kingdom of Canada. According to his
understanding of the Amerindian interpreters, the waters of the St.
Lawrence flowed through three great states: _Saguenay_, which was the
mountainous Gaspé Peninsula and the opposite coast; _Canada_, Quebec
and its neighbourhood; and _Hochelaga_, the region between Montreal
and Lake Ontario. At the mouth of the Saguenay River, where Tadoussac
is now situated, he encountered large numbers of white whales--the
Beluga. These are really huge porpoises, allied to the narwhals, but
without the narwhal's exaggerated tusk. When he reached the vicinity
of the modern Quebec,[5] and his Amerindian interpreters found
themselves at their actual home (for they were far away from home on a
fishing expedition when he caught them in Gaspé Bay) there was great
rejoicing; for they were able to tell their relations of the wonderful
country to which they had been across the ocean. Cartier was delighted
with the surroundings of "Canada" (Quebec), near which at that time
was a large settlement (Stadacona) of Huron Indians under a chief
named Donnacona. He decided to lay up his ships here for the winter,
and to pursue the rest of his western explorations in his boats.
[Footnote 5: Then called "Canada". The word Quebec (pronounced
_Kebek_) means the narrow part of a river.]
But the Amerindians for some reason were not willing that he should go
any farther, and attempted to scare him from his projects by arranging
for three of their number to come down river in a canoe, dressed in
dogs' skins, with their faces blackened, and with bisons' horns
fastened to their heads. These devils pretended to take no notice of
the French, but to die suddenly as they reached the shore, while the
rest of the natives gave vent to howlings of despair and
consternation. The three devils were pretending to have brought a
message from a god to these Hurons of "Canada" that the country up
river (Hochelaga) was so full of ice and snow that it would be death
for anyone to go there.
However, this made little or no impression on Cartier; but he consented
to leave a proportion of his party behind with the chief Donnacona as
hostages, and then started up country in his boats with about seventy
picked officers and men. On the 2nd of October, 1535, they reached the
vicinity of the modern Montreal, the chief settlement of Hochelaga.
The Huron town at the foot of the hills was circular in outline,
surrounded by a stockade of three rows of upright tree trunks, which
rose to its highest point in the middle, where the timbers of the
inner and outward sides sloped to meet one another, the height of the
central row being about 8 feet above the ground. All round the inside
there was a platform or rampart on which were stored heavy stones to
be hurled at any enemy who should attempt to scale the fence. The town
was entered by only one doorway, and contained about fifty houses
surrounding an open space whereon the towns-people made their
bonfires. Each house was about 50 feet long by 12 to 15 feet wide.
They were roofed with bark, and usually had attics which were
storerooms for food. In the centre of each of these long houses there
was a fireplace where the cooking for the whole of the house
inhabitants was done. Each family had its own room, but each house
probably contained five families. Almost the only furniture, except
cooking pots, was mats on which the people sat and slept. The food of
the people consisted, besides fish and the flesh of beavers and deer,
of maize and beans. Cartier at once recognized the maize or Indian
corn as the same grain ("a large millet") as that which he had seen in
Brazil.
He gives a description of how they made the maize into bread (or
rather "dampers", "ashcakes"); but as this is not altogether clear, it
is better to combine it with Champlain's description, written a good
many years later, but still at a time when the Hurons were unaffected
by the white man's civilization. According to both Cartier and
Champlain, the women pounded the corn to meal in a wooden mortar, and
removed the bran by means of fans made of the bark of trees. From this
meal they made bread, sometimes mixing with the meal the beans
(_Phaseolus vulgaris_), which had been boiled and mashed. Or they
would boil both Indian corn and beans into a thick soup, adding to the
soup blueberries,[6] dried raspberries, or pieces of deer's fat. The
meal derived from the corn and beans they would make into bread,
baking it in the ashes.
[Footnote 6: The Canada Blueberry (_Vaccinium canadense_), called by
the French _bluës_ or _bluëts_. These bluës were collected and dried
by the Amerindians, and made a sweet nutriment for eating in the
winter.]
Or they would take the pounded Indian corn without removing the bran,
and put two or three handfuls of it into an earthen pot full of water,
stirring it from time to time, when it boiled, so that it might not
adhere to the pot. To this was added a small quantity of fish, fresh
or dry, according to the season, to give a flavour to the _migane_ or
porridge. When the dried fish was used the porridge smelt very badly
in the nostrils of Europeans, but worst of all when the porridge was
mixed with dried venison, which was sometimes nearly putrid! If fish
was put into this porridge it was boiled whole in the mealy water,
then taken out without any attempt to remove the fins, scales, or
entrails, and the whole of the boiled fish was pounded up and put back
into the porridge. Sometimes a great birch-bark "kettle" would be
filled with water, fish, and meat, and red-hot stones be dropped in
till it boiled. Then with a spoon they would collect from the surface
the fat and oil arising from the fish or meat. This they afterwards
mixed with the meal of roasted Indian corn, stirring it with this fat
till they had made a thick soup. Sometimes, however, they were content
to eat the young corn-cobs freshly roasted, which as a matter of fact
(with a little salt) is one of the most delicious things in the world.
Or they would take ears of Indian corn and bury them in wet mud,
leaving them thus for two or three months; then the cobs would be
removed and the rotted grain eaten with meat and fish, though it was
all muddy and smelt horribly. Cartier also noticed that these Huron
Indians had melons and pumpkins, and described their wampum or shell
money.[7]
[Footnote 7: Cartier, in Hakluyt's translation, is made to say (I
modernize the spelling): "They dig their grounds with certain pieces
of wood as big as half a sword, on which ground groweth their corn,
which they call 'offici'; it is as big as our small peason.... They
have also great store of musk melons, pompions, gourds, cucumbers,
peas, and beans of every colour, yet differing from ours."
Wampum, or shell money (which recalls the shell money of the Pacific
Islands), consisted either of beads made from the interior parts of
sea shells or land shells, or of strings of perforated sea shells. The
most elaborate kind of wampum was that of the Amerindians of Canada
and the eastern United States, the shell beads of which were generally
white. The commoner wampum beads were black and violet. Wampum belts
were made which illustrated events, dates, treaties of peace, &c, by a
rude symbolism (figures of men and animals, upright lines, &c), and
these were worked neatly on string by employing different-coloured
beads.]
From the eminence on which the Huron city stood, Cartier obtained a
splendid view of rivers and mountains and magnificent forests, and
called the place then and there, in his Norman French, Mont Real, or
Royal Eminence, a name which it will probably bear for all time,
though the actual city of Montreal lies a few miles below.
Montreal was the limit of Cartier's explorations on this journey. He
returned thence to "Canada" or Stadacona, where his men built a fort
armed with artillery, and where his ships were anchored. Here he had
to stay from the middle of November, 1535, to the middle of April,
1536, his ships being shut in by the ice. The experiences of the
French during these five months were mostly unhappy. At first Cartier
gave himself up to the collecting of information. He noticed for the
first time the smoking of tobacco,[8] and collected information about
the products and features of "Canada". The Indians told him of great
lakes in the far west, one of which was so vast that no man had seen
the end of it. They told him that anyone travelling up the Richelieu
River (as it was called sixty years later) would eventually reach a
land in the south where in the winter there was no ice or snow, and
where fruit and nut trees grew in abundance. Cartier thought that they
were talking to him of Florida, but their geographical information can
scarcely have stretched so far; they probably referred to the milder
regions of New Jersey and Virginia, which would be reached by
following southwards the valley of the Hudson and keeping to the
lowlands of the eastern United States.
[Footnote 8: "There groweth also a certain kind of herb whereof in
summer they make a great provision for all the year, making great
account of it, and only men use it; and first they cause it to be
dried in the sun, then wear it about their necks wrapped in a little
beast's skin made like a bag, together with a hollow piece of stone or
wood like a pipe. Then when they please they make powder of it and put
it in one of the ends of the said cornet or pipe, and laying a coal of
fire upon it at the other end, suck so long that they fill their
bodies full of smoke, till that it cometh out of their mouth and
nostrils, even as out of the tunnel of a chimney. They say that this
doth keep them warm and in health: they never go without some of it
about them. We ourselves have tried the same smoke, and having put it
in our mouths, it seemed almost as hot as pepper." The foregoing is
one of the earliest descriptions of tobacco smoking in any European
language, the original words being in Cartier's Norman French.]
As the winter set in with its customary Canadian severity the real
trouble of the French began. They did not suffer from the cold, but
they were dying of scurvy. This disease, from which the natives also
suffered to some extent, was due to their eating nothing but salt or
smoked provisions--forms of meat or fish. They lived, of course, shut
up in the fort, and Cartier's fixed idea was to keep the Hurons from
the knowledge of his misfortune, fearing lest, if they realized how
the garrison was reduced, they might treacherously attack and massacre
the rest; for in spite of the extravagant joy with which their arrival
had been greeted, the Amerindians--notably the two interpreters who
had been to France and returned--showed at intervals signs of disquiet
and a longing to be rid of these mysterious white men, whose coming
might involve the country in unknown misfortunes. In January and
February, also, Donnacona and these two interpreters and many of the
Huron men had been absent hunting in the forests, so that there was no
one among the Amerindians to whom the French could turn for
information regarding this strange disease. At last 25 out of the 112
who had left France were dead, and of the remainder only 10 men,
including Cartier, were not grievously ill. Those who were living
found it sometimes beyond their strength to bury the dead in the
frozen ground, and simply placed their bodies in deep snow. Once or
twice, when Cartier left the fort to go out to the ships, he met
Domagaya, one of the two interpreters, and found that he also was
suffering from this mysterious disease, though not nearly so badly as
the French people. On the body of one young man who died of scurvy
Cartier and his officers, shuddering, made investigations, opening the
corpse and examining the organs to try and find the cause of death.
This was on the afternoon of a day on which they had held a solemn
service before a statue erected to the Virgin Mary on the shore
opposite to the ships. All who were fit to walk went in procession
from the fort to the statue, singing penitential psalms and the Litany
and celebrating Mass.
Some days after this religious service Cartier met the interpreter,
Domagaya, and to his surprise found him perfectly well and strong. He
asked him for an explanation, and was told that the medicine which
cured this disease was made from the leaves and bark of a tree called
ameda.[9] Cartier then ventured to say that one of his servants was
sick of this unknown disease, and Domagaya sent for two women, who
taught the French people how to make an extract from the balsam fir
for drinking, and how to apply the same liquid to the inflamed skin.
The effect on the crews was miraculous. In six days all the sick were
well and strong.
[Footnote 9: This tree was the balsam fir, _Abies balsamea_.]
Then came the sudden spring. Between April 15th and May 1st the ice on
the river was all melted, and on the 6th May, 1536, Cartier started
from the vicinity of Quebec to return to France. But before leaving he
had managed to kidnap Donnacona, the chief of the Huron settlement,
and six or seven other Amerindians, amongst them Tainyoanyi, one of
the two interpreters who had already been to France. He seized these
men, it appears, partly because he wanted hostages and had good reason
to fear that the Indians meditated a treacherous attack on his ships
before they could get away. He also wished for native witnesses at
Court, when he reached France, to testify to the truth of his
discoveries, and even more to convince the King of France that there
was great profit to be obtained from giving effect to Cartier's
explorations. The chief, Donnacona, was full of wonderful stories of
the Saguenay region, and of the great lakes to the northwards of
Quebec. Probably he was only alluding to the wealth of copper now
known to exist in northern Canada, but to Cartier and the other
Frenchmen it seemed as though he spoke of gold and silver, rubies, and
other precious stones.
Donnacona's people howled and wept when their chief was seized; but
Cartier obliged the chief to reassure them, and to say that the French
had promised to bring him back after he had paid a visit to their
great king, who would return him to his country with great presents.
As a matter of fact, not one of these Indians rapt away by Cartier
ever saw Canada again. But this was not the fault of Cartier, but of
the distractions of the times which turned away the thoughts of King
Francis I from American adventures. The Indians were well and kindly
treated in France, but all of them died there before Cartier left St.
Malo to return to Canada in 1541.
One advantage he derived from sailing away with these hostages was (no
doubt) that they could give him geographical information of importance
which materially shortened the return journey. For the first time he
made use of the broad strait between Anticosti Island and Gaspé
Peninsula, and, better still, entered the Atlantic, not by the
dangerous northern route through the straits of Belle Isle, but by
means of Cabot Strait, between Newfoundland and Cape Breton Island. Of
these discoveries he availed himself on his third and last voyage in
1541.
When in that year he once more anchored his ships near Quebec he found
the attitude of the Hurons changed. They enquired about their friends
and relations who had been carried off five years before, and although
they pretended to be reconciled to their fate when they heard (not
altogether truly) that one or two were dead, and the others had become
great lords in France and had married French women, they really felt a
disappointment so bitter and a hostility so great that Cartier guessed
their expressions of welcome to be false. However, he sent back to
France two of the ships under his command and beached the other three,
landed his stores, built two forts at Cap Rouge, above and below, and
then started off with a few of his men and two boats to revisit the
country of Hochelaga. Here he intended to examine the three rapids or
"saults"--interruptions to the navigation of the St. Lawrence--which
he had observed on his previous journey, and which were later named
the La Chine Rapids (in the belief that they were obstacles on the
river route to China). But these falls proved insuperable obstacles to
his boats, and he gave up any further idea of westward exploration,
returned to his forts and ships near Quebec, and there laid the
foundations of a fortified town, which he called Charlesbourg Royal.
Here he spent a very difficult winter, the Hurons in the neighbourhood
becoming increasingly hostile, and at last, when the spring came, as
he had received no relief from France, he took to his three ships,
abandoned Charlesbourg Royal (having probably to do some fighting
before he could get safely away) and thence sailed for France. Off the
Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland he met the other ships of the
expedition which was to have occupied Canada for France. These were
under the command of the Sieur de Roberval, a French nobleman, who had
really been made head of the whole enterprise, with Cartier as a
subordinate officer, but who, the year before, had allowed Cartier to
go off to Canada and prepare the way, promising to follow immediately.
The interview between Cartier and Roberval, near where the capital of
Newfoundland (St. John's) now stands, was a stormy one. Roberval
ordered Cartier to return at once to Charlesbourg and await his
arrival. However, in the middle of the night which followed this
interview, Cartier took advantage of a favourable wind and set sail
for France, arriving soon afterwards at St. Malo.
But Roberval arrived at Charlesbourg (going the roundabout way through
the straits of Belle Isle, for Cartier had told him nothing of the
convenient passage through Cabot Strait), and there spent the winter
of 1542-3, sending his ships back to France. This winter was one of
horrors. Roberval was a headstrong, passionate man, perfectly reckless
of human life. He maintained discipline by ferocious sentences,
putting many of his men in irons, whipping others cruelly, women as
well as men, and shooting those who seemed the most rebellious. Even
the Indians were moved to pity, and wept at the sight of the woes of
these unhappy French men and women under the control of a bloodthirsty
tyrant, and many of them dying of scurvy, or miserably weak from that
disease.[10]
[Footnote 10: A story was subsequently told of Roberval's stern
treatment which had a germ of truth in it, though it has since been
the foundation of many a romance. On the journey out from France it is
said that Roberval took with him his niece Marguerite, a high-born
lady, who was accompanied by an old companion or nurse. Marguerite was
travelling with her uncle because, unknown to him, she had a lover who
had sailed with him on this expedition and whom she hoped to marry. As
they crossed the Atlantic these facts leaked out, and Roberval
resolved to bide his time and punish his niece for her deception. As
they passed the coast of Southern Labrador Marguerite and her old
nurse were seized and put into a boat, Roberval ordering his sailors
to row them ashore to an island, and leave them to their fate. They
were given four guns with ammunition and a small supply of provisions.
But, as the boat was leaving the ship, Marguerite's lover threw
himself into the sea and swam to the island. Here, according to the
story which Marguerite is supposed to have told afterwards, they
endeavoured to live by killing the wild animals and eating their
flesh; but her lover-husband died, so also did her child soon after it
was born, and then the old nurse, and the unhappy Marguerite was left
alone with the wild beasts, especially the white Polar bears, who
thronged round her hut. Nevertheless she kept them at bay with her
arquebus, and managed somehow to support an existence, until after
nineteen months' isolation the ascending smoke of her fire was seen by
people on one of the many fishing vessels which, by this time,
frequented the coasts of Newfoundland. She was taken off the island
and restored to her home in France. The island to which this tradition
more especially relates is now called Grand Meccatina.]
However, when the weather was warm again, in June, 1543, Roberval
started up the St. Lawrence River in boats to reach the wonderful
country of Saguenay. Apparently he met with little success, and, being
relieved by French ships in the late summer of 1543, he returned to
France.
Thus the splendid work achieved by Cartier seemed to have come to
nothing, for neither he nor Roberval revisited America. The French
settlement near Quebec was abandoned, so far as the officers of the
French king were concerned, and between 1545 and about 1583, if any
other Frenchman or European visited Canada it was some private
adventurer who traded with the natives in furs, or Basques from France
and Spain who frequented the waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence on
account of the abundance of whales, walruses, and seals. In fact, at
the close of the sixteenth century, the Spanish Basques had
established themselves on shore at Tadoussac and other places, and
seemed likely to colonize the country.