Winter went swiftly, and towards the spring Claude's strength came
slowly back to him. The physician who waited on him, however, ordered
perfect rest during the summer months; and so, when news came that
Cartier had his five ships all ready for sea, stored with provisions and
fully manned, he had reluctantly to consent to remain behind in France.
But he was not to remain alone. De Roberval could not go to make a
permanent colonisation in America without abundant firearms, artillery,
and munitions of war. But the gay life of the Court had exhausted the
royal treasury, and for the moment it seemed as if all his preparations
had been in vain. King Francis, however, was as eager to colonise the
New World as was Roberval himself, and he despatched a messenger to St
Malo, commanding Cartier to start with what preparations he had made,
and promising to send Roberval shortly after with three ships fully
equipped with powder to store a magazine, balls to last for years, and
guns sufficient and strong enough to ably protect the destined colony.
De Roberval was not in St Malo when the news arrived, but La Pommeraye
was, and the chance to bear the message to Picardy himself was too good
to be lost.
On reaching the castle he found, to his great disappointment, that
Marguerite had been for some time in Paris, while Claude had long before
returned to his own home in Rouen. De Roberval was still there, however,
completing his final preparations for departure. He went into a white
rage at the news of the enforced delay; but there was no help for it. So
he sent Charles back to tell Cartier to start at once, and to expect him
in the autumn. In the meantime he was to plant seed, build his forts,
and make ready platforms for heavy pieces and a well-protected powder
magazine.
It so happened that Marie was still at the castle. Marguerite had gone
to an aunt in Paris, and her friend was to join her with De Roberval as
soon as the latter had finally wound up his affairs and arranged for the
management of his estate.
During the few days which Charles spent in Picardy he was thrown a good
deal with Mdlle. de Vignan, and with an almost boyish impulse he took
her into his confidence, and told her his seemingly hopeless love for
Marguerite. In his enthusiasm he scarcely noticed how little
encouragement she gave him, or else he interpreted her silence as a
favourable sign. But when he was gone, the large-hearted and
impressionable girl stood looking after him till he and his horse were a
mere speck in the distance, and then she went to her own room, shut
herself up, and wept bitterly.
One week later Cartier was on his way to Hochelaga, and Charles, sunk in
reverie, stood by his side on the deck of _La Grande Hermine_, and,
with eyes fixed on the shores they were leaving, heard not a word that
Cartier uttered. The New World had lost its charms for him. His soul
would know no content till he was once more back in France, or at least
till he was once more within reach of Marguerite de Roberval.
Through May and June the vessels swept across the ocean, and without
mishap entered the Gulf of St Lawrence, and sailed up the broad river of
Hochelaga. The explorers landed at Cap Rouge, and began to clear the
forest, sow turnip seed, and build forts. When the work was well under
way, leaving Vicomte de Beaupre in charge at Cap Rouge, Cartier and La
Pommeraye went on a voyage of exploration into the interior of the
country, hoping on their return to find De Roberval at the fort.
All this time De Roberval was busy rushing up and down France; but the
King was slow in opening the nation's purse, and winter came without any
preparations having been made to follow Cartier. Roberval chafed under
the disappointment, but was powerless to do anything.
During the summer he had formed the sudden and surprising resolution of
taking his niece and ward to Canada with him. The announcement of this
plan occasioned a good deal of astonishment, but Roberval would listen
to no remonstrances. Special accommodation would have to be arranged for
them on board his ship, and they must learn to put up with hardships,
and to accustom themselves to the life of colonists. It might be years
before his return to France, and he had fully decided not to leave them
behind. Whatever his purpose may really have been, he had evidently
made up his mind, and was not to be turned aside from his determination.
The girls themselves asked nothing better. Full of the spirit of youth
and adventure, they looked forward with delight to the prospect of a
share in an expedition on which the eyes and hopes of half France were
centred, and eagerly they set about making their preparations for
departure.
In the meantime, however, one day in the early part of November, De
Roberval was surprised by a request from Claude de Pontbriand--now fully
restored to health--for permission to pay his addresses to Marguerite.
His rejection of the proposal was so prompt, and couched in such
emphatic terms, that Claude was utterly taken aback. He was poor, and
had hesitated long to declare his love, supposing that his poverty would
naturally be an objection to him in Roberval's eyes; but in respect of
birth and position he was fully Marguerite's equal, and now that she was
about to accompany her uncle to Canada, where, in a new sphere of life,
all would be placed upon a more equal footing, he had gained courage to
offer himself as her suitor. But De Roberval not only refused to listen
to him, but dismissed him in such haughty terms that the young man's
pride rebelled, and he demanded an explanation. High words ensued, and a
quarrel was only averted by Claude's diplomacy and presence of mind in
recollecting that in the event of a duel his case would indeed be
hopeless. But he was at a loss for an explanation of the rude reception
with which his proposal had been met.
Marguerite, however, had a key to the enigma. She had heard from her
old nurse how, years before, her uncle had been madly infatuated with
Claude's mother, and how that noble lady had refused his hand, and had
married instead the poor but handsome young Captain Maurice de
Pontbriand. The bitter grudge which Roberval owed the name had seemingly
come to life again at the idea of uniting one of his family with the son
of his successful rival. His temper, too, was irritated by the
protracted delay in getting his expedition under way, and by the many
harassments with which he was forced to contend. The discovery that
Claude had already won his niece's affections added fuel to the fire of
his wrath, and he forbade all further interviews or communications
between the lovers.
Marguerite had so long implicitly yielded to the strong will of her
uncle--whom she revered as a father, having known no other--that she
never thought of attempting disobedience. She wrote to Claude, who would
have persuaded her to meet him by stealth, begging him to wait, even if
she had to go to America without him. For, since this quarrel with De
Roberval, it would be impossible for Claude to take passage in the same
ship, but he could easily follow her. In the New World all the
conditions of life would be changed, and, once there, they might hope to
win her uncle's consent to their union.
Claude, though ill-content with this arrangement, saw nothing for it but
to bide his time. He made no further effort to see Marguerite for the
present, but kept a careful watch over De Roberval's movements, that he
might know to a certainty when he intended to sail.
Winter came, and still the King did nothing. De Roberval was in Paris
with his household, and Claude had taken up his quarters in the same
city. At length tidings came which made De Roberval's heart bound with
hope once more. The King had at last roused himself; nay, he had already
purchased three ships--three noble vessels--and they even now lay in the
harbour of La Rochelle, ready for Roberval to equip and man. This was
late in February. All through March the nobleman superintended the
storing of the powder, the loading of the guns, and the procuring of the
crews. This last was no easy matter. But few of the hardy French sailors
would venture on the voyage, and in despair Roberval was compelled to
get together his crews and colonists almost entirely from the prisons.
Early in April everything was completed; and one bright morning the
three vessels stole out through the surrounding islands, caught the last
glimpse of the lantern tower, and sailed away for America. Marguerite
and Marie, with the faithful Bastienne, stood on the deck of De
Roberval's ship, gazing back at the shores of La Belle France. A cloud
seemed to hang over their departure, and it had none of the joyous
excitement they had anticipated. Marguerite was torn asunder between her
love for Claude and her ideas of duty to her uncle. A message from De
Pontbriand had assured her that he intended to join the expedition, and
she supposed him to have managed to embark on one of the other ships;
but her heart was heavy within her at the thought of her uncle's
vengeance when he should find it out. She could not even be certain that
he had embarked at all, and she was leaving France, perhaps for ever,
without a farewell word from his lips.
Marie had her own inward perplexities. In the New World for which they
were bound they would be certain to encounter La Pommeraye, and the
secret she had so faithfully kept for him weighed heavily on her mind.
She had several times been on the point of telling Marguerite, but for
some reason or other she shrank from uttering his name. Her feelings
towards him had undergone a change, which had the effect of making her
shun all mention of the man whose praises had once been perpetually on
her lips. She foresaw that nothing but unhappiness for herself could
result from meeting him again, and yet she could not restrain a throb of
the heart when his stalwart form and handsome features rose before her.
The two girls stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the fast-receding
shore. Old Bastienne, beside them, was dissolved in tears. She would not
have deserted her young mistress; but at her age to leave her native
land and face the perils of a new and unknown country was a sore trial.
As the beloved shores faded into a blue haze on the horizon, a familiar
step was heard on the deck approaching the mournful little group.
Marguerite turned, with a sudden thrill at her heart, and beheld De
Pontbriand.
Astonishment left her no words with which to greet him. Marie recovered
herself first.
"M. de Pontbriand!" she exclaimed, "how did you get here?"
"Easily enough," replied Claude. "I simply came on board last night,
and kept out of sight till this moment. Now that I am here, and we are
so far from land, the Sieur de Roberval can hardly refuse me
accommodation. I suppose he will scarcely go the length of throwing me
overboard."
"You do not know my uncle, Claude," said Marguerite, anxiously. "I
tremble for your first meeting with him. He is not used to being
thwarted. Pray Heaven you and he may not quarrel any further. He is a
dangerous man, if once his will is opposed."
Almost as she spoke De Roberval appeared on deck and at once came
towards them. Then followed a stormy scene. Claude begged for an
interview in De Roberval's private cabin. Alone with the indignant
nobleman, he tried to calm his wrath, but explanations and persuasions
were alike in vain. At last, anxious on Marguerite's account, and
fearing lest her uncle might suspect her of complicity in a plot to
secure his presence on board, and wreak his vengeance on her as well,
Claude resolved on a compromise.
"Hear me, Sieur," he said firmly, in a voice which commanded attention.
"I love your niece, as you know, and I would follow her though you took
her to the end of the world. But for her sake, and to prove to you that
she is innocent of all connivance at my being here, I will avoid her
society for the rest of the voyage. It will be enough to see her at a
distance, and to know that she is safe. You need fear no further
intrusion from me, at all events until the New World is reached. I give
you my word."
De Roberval's rage had so completely mastered him that speech seemed to
have almost deserted him. His words came thickly.
"Go, sir," he said at last, pointing to the door, "and take heed how you
break your promise. If you dare to address my niece as a lover again on
this voyage, you die. And when we reach the New World I will take
excellent care that you are sent about your business. Remember what I
say. If I hear that you have disobeyed me I will, despite your noble
blood, hang you to the yard-arm, as the first example of the fate which
will surely overtake the man who dares to thwart a De Roberval."
With great difficulty Claude restrained himself under this insulting
language, which nothing but his anxiety for Marguerite could have
induced him to bear. He knew that De Roberval was quite capable of
executing his threats; and he was sufficiently cool to reflect that if
he provoked him farther Marguerite's position would be infinitely worse,
while there was no hope that anything could be accomplished by force. He
therefore compelled himself to bow in silence, and took his departure.
As he left the cabin, he noticed a sleek, shiftless-looking individual,
with spy stamped on every line of his face, standing by the open
gangway. He had a sickly-green complexion, and, as if to match its hue,
he was clad in a shabby green jerkin, rough green cap, green doublet,
and hose of the same colour. It was Michel Gaillon, the first criminal
to die on Canadian soil. He had so far escaped the hand of the law, but
was, even as he stood there, being hunted high and low for a brutal
murder. He carried no rapier. Had he possessed such a weapon he would
probably have feared to draw it lest he might injure himself; but as a
poisoner he was without a peer in France. A crime had been brought home
to him; he saw that it would cost him his neck; and he had contrived to
stow himself away on board _L'Heureux_, and was now on his way to
explain his presence to De Roberval, trusting to luck and his sharp wits
to win his way into the good graces of that nobleman.
He had heard every word which had passed, and he saw at once that he
would have a field for his diabolical machinations. Could Claude have
seen the leer with which the ghastly apparition followed him as he
passed, he would have shuddered with a sense of approaching danger. He
did not look back, however, and the Man in Green, having requested an
audience with De Roberval, was admitted to the cabin.
De Roberval's hand went to his sword as he beheld the extraordinary
figure and sinister countenance of his visitor.
"Who are you, and what brings you here?" said he sternly. "You are not
one of my crew."
"May it please you, most noble Sieur," said the man, bowing low, "I have
come to offer my services as physician to your expedition. I am well
versed in drugs, and with the knife no man in France is more skilful. I
have restored life to the Duc d'Orleans, when the Court physician gave
him up; and----"
"Enough!" said De Roberval, who had not removed his keen gaze from the
man's face for an instant. "Enough! I have heard of you. You are
Gaillon, the poisoner!"
The man leaped back trembling as he heard his own name.
"I knew you the instant my eyes fell upon you," pursued De Roberval.
"You have come on board to escape the fate which awaits you in France.
If I did my duty I should order you to be thrown overboard this moment."
The wretch stood cowering.
"Most noble Sieur," he faltered, "I have fled from France to lead a new
life in a new world."
"Silence, liar!" thundered De Roberval. "You have fled from France to
escape death for the murder of Paul d'Auban. You see I know your
character. But it has occurred to me," he went on, with a grim smile,
"that I shall need an executioner in my colony before many months, and
you would probably answer my purpose. Go!" he added, his brow
contracting with sudden anger, "leave my sight, and look that you do not
attempt any of your schemes while you are on board this vessel. As long
as you do as I command you, you need fear nothing; but disobey me, and I
will wind a devil's cravat round your neck, and be doing God a service
by sending you from His blessed earth."
The astonished criminal slunk from the room. As he ascended the gangway
he reflected to himself that in leaving his pursuers in La Rochelle he
seemed to have leaped from the frying-pan into the fire. But he saw his
way clearly before him. He would in the meantime obey Roberval's
lightest whim; and when an opportunity presented itself he would so
ingratiate himself into the good opinion of the nobleman as to be made
his confidant. He had unlimited confidence in his own powers, and an
ambition which knew no bounds. Fate seemed to favour him. Already he had
overheard an interview which had put him in possession of some of
Roberval's most intimate affairs. He would bide his time, and wait for a
chance to make use of his knowledge.
Some days passed without event. Claude kept carefully to the letter of
his promise, and avoided as much as possible the society of the two
girls. He shared the quarters of an old school-friend, Paul d'Auxhillon,
and rarely went on deck when it was at all probable that the women would
be there.
They had been steering westward over moderately calm seas for nearly a
week, when, on a glorious moonlight night, the breeze stiffened, and the
little vessel began to pitch on the rising waves. The cabin was close at
all times, but at night Claude nearly always spent most of his time on
deck. On this particular night he had no desire for sleep, and midnight
found him still pacing to and fro, watching the glitter of the moonlight
on the dancing waters.
Just about twelve o'clock Marguerite, oppressed by the close air between
decks, and rendered dizzy by the slight pitching of the vessel, stole
softly from her cabin, without disturbing Marie, and sought the open
air. She had not been long on deck before she became aware of the
presence of a man who was not one of the common sailors. For a moment
she thought the motionless figure with its back towards her was her
uncle; but a second glance told her it was De Pontbriand. She moved
noiselessly towards him, as he stood gazing out on the broad moonlit
expanse, his thoughts occupied with the bitter fate that held him so
near his love, and yet so far apart from her, and, gently touching his
shoulder, she breathed his name.
He turned: their lips met, and so great was the revulsion of feeling
that for a few moments neither could speak. But they were standing where
they might have been observed either by the helmsman or the man on the
lookout, and Claude presently drew her to the shadow of the forecastle.
Here they were sheltered from view, and could give themselves up to the
rapture of being together once more. Neither noticed a dark figure
crouched on the deck behind a spar not three feet away from them. It was
Gaillon. He had seen Marguerite pass up the gangway, and knowing that
Claude was on deck had followed, panther-like, to watch her movements.
His quick intelligence at once divined that if a meeting between the
lovers had been planned, they would probably seek the shadow afforded by
the forecastle; and in the few moments when their attention was wholly
absorbed in each other he had noiselessly crawled across the deck, and
concealed himself where he could overhear their every word.
Very little was said, but not a syllable escaped him. Marguerite, for
the first time, allowed Claude to say hard things about her uncle. But
even yet she tried to find excuses for him.
"O Claude," she said, "he is mad! I have watched him day by day, and
would not believe it. But his violent ambition, and the thwarting to
which it has been subjected, have unhinged his mind. I am hoping that
the active life he must necessarily lead in Canada will restore his
reason. But mad he is now, and for my sake bear with him and humour him.
He has been cruel to us, unkind to me, brutal to you, but he is not the
uncle I once knew and loved. Surely his old nature will return when we
are settled in our new home, and he will consent to our marriage."
Claude could not help thinking that there was small ground for
encouragement, but he would not damp her sweet hopefulness. They talked
a little longer in a more cheerful strain, each trying to raise the
spirits of the other.
"Dear," said Claude, at last, "for your sake I will be patient and wait.
But you must not stay here. The watch may discover us; and your good
name would become a by-word in our new colony. Say good-night to me and
go."
The two held each other in a long embrace, which made up for weeks of
separation.
"If ever you should want me," said Claude, "you will find me here--every
night--at this hour. But do not come again unless you need me. There are
men on board who would delight in making trouble for us with your uncle.
The snake-like eyes of that fellow Gaillon haunt me like a nightmare."
They separated. Marguerite returned to her cabin; and Claude, with a
lighter heart, resumed his pacing of the deck, all unconscious that the
eyes he had just described were watching him with a fiendish glitter
which boded ill for his future.
At last he went below, and Gaillon crept out of the dark corner where
he had lain crouched, afraid to stir for fear of attracting Claude's
attention. As he emerged from his hiding-place, a hand was laid on his
shoulder, and he found himself face to face with a young sailor from
Picardy, Blaise Perron by name, an honest, kindly young fellow, who had
noticed the black looks and skulking ways of the green-suited scoundrel,
and had determined to keep an eye upon him.
"What are you doing here?" cried he, as he saw Gaillon crawl from behind
the spar.
Gaillon replied with an oath, and an admonition to mind his own affairs,
and let honest men alone.
"Honest men do not skulk in corners and watch other people's doings,"
replied the young fellow, who, however, had only just come on deck, and
was ignorant of the scene between Claude and Marguerite. "Let me catch
you plotting any villainy against the Sieur de Pontbriand, and I will
throw you overboard first, and report afterwards."
Gaillon, seeing that his schemes were likely to be thwarted unless he
exercised some caution, condescended to explain that he had fallen
asleep in his corner, had only just awakened, and was on his way below
to his berth. But as he descended the gangway he cast an evil look
behind him on the young sailor at his post, and vowed that in his own
time and way he would revenge himself upon him.