All that day and the following night _L'Heureux_ and her consorts lay at
anchor. Towards afternoon Roberval recovered sufficiently to issue
commands, which Gaillon transmitted to the crew. So subdued were the men
by the strange scenes they had witnessed, and so much in awe did they
stand of Roberval and the terrible Gaillon, that there was none of the
disorder which might naturally have been expected. Jehan Alfonse's place
had been filled by an experienced and resolute seaman named Jacques
Herbert, in whom Roberval had perfect confidence. Under his direction
the men returned to their occupations; the prisoners of the morning were
released; and soon no trace was visible of the extraordinary events
which had taken place. Claude remained in the hold, and Marguerite was
too ill to leave her cabin.
The next morning, when Roberval came on deck, a strong southerly wind
was sweeping across the harbour. Herbert was at once ordered to get the
vessel ready for sea. Crew and sailing-master were alike eager to leave
the place which had been the scene of so many horrors, and willing hands
soon had the sails unfurled, the anchor on the cat-head and the helm
hard down, as the vessel swung round and sped away for the broad
Atlantic.
"To the north," said De Roberval, as Herbert came to him to learn which
direction he should take. "It is the shorter course, if the more
dangerous. We will follow in the tracks of Jehan Alfonse. And I may want
to touch at the barren lands of Labrador. Gold is ever found in regions
of barrenness, and gold is needed for our colony."
Herbert was a rugged sailor, who thought more of a bit of salt beef and
a bottle of brandy than of ingots of gold. Gold, to him, was only good
for the spending; and what use it would be in the New World, where there
was nothing to buy that could not be had for a few glass beads and a
leaden trinket or two, was more than his intellect could conceive. He
shrugged his shoulders at the nobleman's whim, as he deemed it, but
answered a cheerful "Ay, ay, Monsieur." And as the vessels stood out
past the headland, and on towards the white stretch of rolling waters,
his trumpet voice rang out: "Starboard your helm! 'Tend to the sheets!"
In a moment the gallant craft was sweeping on her northward way, with
her sails swelling before the following breeze, riding over the summits
of the chasing waves. All night she sailed, and all through the
following day, and still the rugged shores of Newfoundland stood on
their left. On the third day a small, misty cloud appeared on the
horizon ahead. At first, the seamen thought it was another ship, but
one, more keen-sighted than the others, declared it was an island.
"An island?" said a hardy fisherman who had made many voyages to the New
World for fish since Columbus discovered it, "then it must be the 'Isle
of Demons.' I have been on the lookout for it. The air has for some
hours been hot and stifling."
"Nonsense, Laurent! It is your imagination."
"Steer away from it," insisted the sailor. "Let us hug the main shore. I
know the spot; no vessel ever sails near it. Several did in early times,
but the demons pounced upon them, shattered their crafts on the rocks,
and carried off the crews to their haunts."
Others had heard of it too, and a thrill of superstitious awe spread
among the crew. As the distant land drew nearer, lips ever polluted with
profanity, hearts black with crime, called on the saints to save and
protect them; and even the sceptical Herbert, as he gazed on the dark
rock crowned with curling mists, fancied with the rest that he could see
weird, awful shapes hovering about the shore. The horror of the place
seized him. He rushed to the helm, pressed it hard down, and endeavoured
to give the dreaded island as wide a berth as possible.
At this moment Roberval appeared on the scene to enquire into the cause
of the disturbance.
"What means this?" exclaimed he to Herbert.
"The Isle of Demons," muttered the now thoroughly alarmed sailor. "Can
you not hear their fierce voices clamouring after us?"
"The Isle of Demons! What care I for all the demons in hell? Back to
your course at once; we have lost too much time already."
"But, Monsieur," said the old fisherman who had first spoken, "they have
been known to utterly destroy vessels and men e'er this. Guillaume de
Noue dared to defy them, and attempted to sail close to the island, but
e'er his ship could reach an anchorage, she sank without a warning,
bearing the entire crew down with her, excepting Guillaume, who was
borne aloft by the demons, and carried to their inland abodes."
"And who," replied De Roberval, sarcastically, "can vouch for the tale,
seeing all the crew perished, and the brave captain was transported to
the lower world? You will have to invent some better story, good
Laurent."
"Pardon, Monsieur, but I can answer for its truth. I was with Guillaume,
sailing the _Belle Marie_. We were following hard after him when his
vessel went down like lead, and I saw with mine own eyes good Master
Guillaume borne aloft by the devils. There was no mistaking him; his red
hose and scarlet hat were the only ones on board his ship. I would have
attempted to rescue him, but my crew, who also witnessed the sight, fell
upon me, seized the helm, and rested nor day nor night till we were
safely in the harbour of St Malo, and not a man of them could ever again
be persuaded to enter a craft bound for the New World."
"Pish!" said Roberval, scornfully. "Port your helm, Herbert, and steer
for that island. I am master on this expedition, and if there be any
demons on the land they must pay homage to me. But methinks we shall
find neither the red hose of your friend, nor the abode of any demons,
but a few redskins who have been blown ashore here from Newfoundland,
and dare not return."
"But, Sieur----" began the trembling Herbert.
"But not me," said De Roberval. "Port your helm, or I run you through!"
and he threateningly drew his rapier. In an instant the course of the
vessel was changed, and, to the consternation of the sailors, bore down
upon the haunted island. The black waters grew blacker as they drew
near, and each moment they expected to find their ship sinking beneath
them. The lead was thrown, but no anchorage could be found; and it was
not till they were within a couple of hundred yards of the shore that
the welcome sound of the rattling chain and dropping anchor was heard.
The land was indeed uninviting. Barren, sterile, brown as an autumn
field; grey cliffs rose on all sides, the tops of which could not be
discerned, for a heavy fog hung upon them and revealed only the dark
base. Gulls and terns flew screaming overhead, and swooped about the
strange vessel which had dared invade the sacred precincts of their
island. The great waves, rolling in on the iron-bound shore, kept up a
continuous artillery, as the mighty boulders ground along the stony
beach. Dull, hollow groans issued from the many caves which time had
worn in the cliffs; and the hissing of the waters, the booming of the
rocks, the perpetual bellow of the waves on the shore, and the wild
shrieks of the birds, all made it seem to the terrified seamen that they
had indeed reached the abode of the Prince of Evil.
But two men were in no way affected by the scene or the uproar--Michel
Gaillon and De Roberval. The latter had formed a sudden determination.
His niece and her companions must be punished. Kill them with his own
hand he could not, and to put them out of the way, without making a
public example of them, would be revenge without purpose; for the man,
despite his mad barbarity, was convinced that he was working for great
and noble ends. Now a glorious opportunity was given him to teach a
salutary lesson. He would land the women on this desolate spot, giving
them provisions for a year, and before that time he could return for
them and bring them to his colony. This would surely establish his
authority, and be a warning to all wrong-doers for the future.
He turned to Gaillon, who stood near him, smiling at the terrors of the
crew.
"Get the boat ready, and order the women to prepare to land. I am going
to give them a holiday on the island."
This was a project after Gaillon's own heart. He rubbed his hands with
fiendish delight, and set about giving the necessary orders. A boat was
soon lowered, and filled with provisions, clothing, and ammunition in
plenty. Gaillon and two or three of the desperadoes whom he had
completely under his control, pulled ashore and landed their cargo.
Roberval himself superintended the selection from the ship's stores, and
thrice did he order the boat to return, each time with as large a load
as it could carry.
All this time the rest of the crew stood gaping with astonishment,
unable to imagine what Roberval's intentions might be, but ready, at the
slightest addition to their superstitious fears, to fly into open
mutiny.
At last the boat returned from her third trip. Roberval, in the
meantime, had ordered the women to get ready to go on shore, and they
now came on deck, bewildered with surprise, and uncertain what fate
might be in store for them. Roberval commanded them to enter the boat,
which was now alongside. A murmur of dismay and sympathy went round the
vessel, as the full horror of his project dawned upon the crew; but no
man dared to interfere, save Pere Lebeau. Undaunted by his rebuff of a
few days before, the priest stepped up to De Roberval, and fixing his
eyes full upon him, he exclaimed:
"Sieur, beware what you do! What are your intentions towards these
helpless women who have no other protector but yourself? You cannot be
so lost to all sense of honour and chivalry as to abandon them to perish
on this desolate shore! How can you expect the blessing of God upon this
enterprise if you wilfully do this great wrong? Take care lest the
Church should refuse to pardon you, and should cast from her fold the
man who could be guilty of so monstrous a crime."
For a moment Roberval's gaze shifted under the scathing indignation of
the priest, then, drawing him hastily aside, he muttered in an
undertone:
"Spare your wrath, good Father; I but mean to teach them a lesson. I
will return for them in good time--I swear it. It is but a necessary
discipline that I would give them, so that they may learn to obey me for
the future."
"They will die of terror!" said the priest. "You have heard the legends
of the demons who haunt the island; and how do you know to what perils
you are subjecting them from the savages, if not indeed from evil
spirits?"
"There are no signs of habitation in the island," said De Roberval,
impatiently. "My men have explored it thoroughly. No Indians have ever
been there, and a good fright will do them no harm. Demons," he went on,
raising his voice so that all could hear, "what care I for demons? Our
blessed Lord cast seven of them forth out of Mary Magdalene, and
methinks that this strumpet and her companions have each seventy times
seven still in their disobedient bodies. But ashore they shall go. Plead
not for them; your prayers will be in vain."
The priest would have spoken further, but Marguerite, who now understood
her uncle's design, came forward with the courage and dignity which
seldom failed her, and, with head erect and unwavering voice, said
calmly:
"Distress yourself no longer on our account, good Father. I welcome with
joy any fate which will deliver me from the tender mercies of a tyrant.
This, then," and she turned her clear gaze upon her uncle, "is the
father's care you show an orphan child? This is the protection you
extend to that other fatherless and motherless girl so lately left in
your charge? Can it be that a De Roberval has sunk to so ignoble a
breach of honour and faith? I pray God," she went on more softly, "that
He may drive out the evil spirit which has possessed you, and restore
your noble and generous nature. You are no longer the uncle I once
loved."
She ceased speaking, and quietly allowed herself to be lowered into the
boat. Marie, weeping bitterly, followed her, and finally old Bastienne,
filling the air with sobs and lamentations, was deposited beside her
mistress. The men took up their oars, and waited the signal for
departure.
Roberval was gloomily pacing the deck. His niece's words had gone home,
and he was on the point of relenting. But he had already allowed his
weakness to turn him once from his purpose, and to fail again, in sight
of his assembled crew, was too great a humiliation to be thought of. He
hardened his heart, and said sternly to Gaillon:
"See them safely landed; take care that they want for nothing, and
return quickly. We must be out of this before darkness falls. The wind
is rising, and I should not care to be caught on this shore should a
storm come up."
The boat made a hurried final trip, and the three women were put off on
the desolate beach. The oarsmen needed not Gaillon's words: "Back now,
with might and main," to hasten them on their return journey. They
pulled for dear life; and through the overhanging mist they seemed to
see the shapes of the demons dancing weirdly down to seize their prey.
Once back in the vessel the anchor was hurriedly raised, and all hands
eagerly assisted in the work of getting under way once more.
But while this was taking place Roberval's heart had devised a yet more
cruel vengeance.
"Bring the prisoner on deck," he exclaimed, "and let him see the results
of his disobedience."
When Claude stood beside him on the high poop, he ordered him to look at
the island, where the three women stood together on the beach. The long
confinement in the semi-darkness of the hold had affected Claude's
eyesight, and for a moment, as he gazed across the lines of the gleaming
waves, he could see nothing. But just as the returning boat reached the
ship's side, and the men hastily came on board, he caught sight of the
group upon the shore.
"O just God!" he cried, "can this be permitted?"
"Thus," replied De Roberval, "a just God has made me the instrument to
chastise vice. Behold, young man, the work of your hands!"
"Were my hands free," said De Pontbriand, fiercely, "I would become an
instrument of God to rid the world of the basest liar and tyrant who
ever served his master, the Devil."
"I will be generous," said De Roberval. "Free the dog's hands, and let
him wave a last adieu to his paramour."
The rusty lock turned, the manacles fell upon the deck, and Claude stood
free. But free on an ocean prison, with enemies on all sides! He gave
one glance round, met the cruel eyes of Gaillon close behind him, and
like a flash plunged headlong into the ocean.
"Shoot the villain down!" shouted De Roberval.
One of the men seized an arquebuse, and levelled it at the struggling
form in the water. He pulled the trigger, but no sooner did the powder
splutter in the pan than the gun burst in his hands, and a piece of the
metal, entering his brain, laid him dead on the deck.
"The demons, the demons!" exclaimed the panic-stricken crew. "The
demons claim the swimmer for their own!"
"Let him go!" said De Roberval. "He is too weak to reach the shore. He
has saved me the trouble of ending his life, as I should sooner or later
have had to do. Now for Charlesbourg Royal. No man will venture to
resist my will in future."
The anchor was already raised, and in a few moments _L'Heureux_ began to
forge ahead, and to widen the space between her and the accursed island.
As Claude had stood on the poop he was plainly visible to the watchers
on the shore. They saw him leap into the sea, and heard the report of
the arquebuse. Their hearts stood still with fear: but they strained
their eyes eagerly across the dazzling surface of the water. Could he
have escaped? Yes, there on the summit of a wave, in the wake of the
rapidly retreating vessel, they saw him struggling. He was swimming. He
was making for the shore. God help him! Holy Mother help him! Blessed
Jesu, guide him and give him strength!
Old Bastienne's sobs had given place to fervent ejaculations of prayer;
and as she prayed she held before her the cross which King Francis had
bestowed upon De Roberval--the precious relic said to have been
fashioned from a fragment of the true cross of our Lord.
Bastienne was a pious soul, and, moreover, a quick-witted one. She had
heard the legends of the island, which had passed among the sailors, and
when she grasped the fact that they were to be put ashore, she made
some excuse to return below, crept into De Roberval's cabin, and stole
the precious relic from its case, concealing it carefully in her bodice.
No evil spirit could come near the place where this blessed piece of
wood might be; with this in their possession they were safe from all the
powers of darkness. She now held the cross aloft, believing that it
would give the swimmer power to reach the shore.
Weakened by his long imprisonment, his arms almost useless through lack
of employment, his strength sapped for want of proper nourishment, De
Pontbriand was manfully struggling with the salt, green waves. His head
was sinking lower and lower, a deadly numbness was seizing his limbs,
and his heart was almost failing him when his half-closed eyes caught
the gleam of the golden cross, as the setting sun fell upon it, held
high in the air by Bastienne. He made no further effort to swim. A good
hundred yards intervened between him and the shore. He must husband his
strength. The waves, he knew, would carry him ashore; and with just
enough motion in his limbs to keep him afloat, he allowed himself to be
borne along. But the northern water was chilling him to the marrow; and
although he could plainly see the women on the beach, and could hear
their prayers and cries of encouragement, he felt himself sinking, and
De Roberval's prophecy seemed about to be realised. When within forty
feet of the shore his chilled limbs relaxed, his eyes closed, and he
disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
But Bastienne had all her wits about her. In her young days she had
plunged into the Somme as joyously as the bravest Picard lads, and old
as she was her limbs were still strong and sturdy. Without a moment's
hesitation, when she saw Claude's strength leave him, she plunged into
the water, struck out boldly in his direction, and, just as he sank from
sight, her strong arm grasped him. With all her remaining strength she
dragged him after her to the shore, and Marguerite and Marie rushed into
the water to their waists to help her with her burden.
Far off in the retreating ship the watchers believed that he had been
given a prey to the demons. Passing a headland they came upon a
full-grown seal, which slid from the rocks into the sea, presenting to
them its half-human face. Believing it to be a demon, they crossed
themselves in terror, and as Claude disappeared from their sight they
were convinced that it had gone in search of him, and dragged him down
into the infernal world.
Meanwhile, Marguerite sat on the shore, with Claude's pale face in her
hands, kissing his lips and eyes, and praying the Holy Virgin to restore
him, and not to take her last hope from her.