"Elephants' teeth?"
"A fair lot, but I am sick of the Guinea coast. The Lisbon slavers get
more of black ivory than we do of the white."
The good Jean Parmentier, who asked the question, and the youth called
Jean Florin, who answered it, were looking at a stanch weather-beaten
little cargo-ship anchored in the harbor of Dieppe. She had been to the
Gold Coast, where wild African chiefs conjured elephants' tusks out of
the mysterious back country and traded them for beads, trinkets and gay
cloth. In Dieppe this ivory was carved by deft artistic fingers into
crucifixes, rosaries, little caskets, and other exquisite bibelots.
African ivory was finer, whiter and firmer than that of India, and when
thus used was almost as valuable as gold.
But within the last ten years the slave trade had grown more profitable
than anything else. A Portuguese captain would kidnap or purchase a few
score negroes, take them, chained and packed together like convicts, to
Lisbon or Seville and sell them for fat gold moidores and doubloons. The
Spanish conquistadores had not been ten years in the West Indies before
they found that Indian slavery did not work. The wild people, under the
terrible discipline of the mines and sugar plantations, died or killed
themselves. Planters of Hispaniola declared one negro slave worth a
dozen Indians.
"I do not wonder that the cacique Hatuey told the priest that he would
burn forever rather than go to a heaven where Spaniards lived," said
Jean Florin. "To roast a man is no way to change his religion."
"Some of our folk in Rochelle are of that way of thinking," agreed
Captain Parmentier dryly. "What say you to a western voyage?"
"Not Brazil? Cabral claims that for Portugal."
"No; the northern seas--the Baccalaos. Of course codfish are not ivory,
and it is rough service, but Aubert and some of the others think that
there may be a way to India. Sebastian Cabot tried for it and found only
icebergs, but Aubert says there is a gulf or strait somewhere south of
Cabot's course, that leads westward and has never been explored."
"I am tired of the Guinea trade," the youth repeated; "Cape Breton at
any rate is not Spanish."
"Not yet," said Jean Parmentier with emphasis.
Thus it came about that when Aubert, in 1508, poked the prow of his
little craft into open water to the west of the great island off which
men fished for cod, there stood beside him a young man who had been
learning navigation under his direction, and was now called Jean
Verassen. His real name was Giovanni Verrazzano, but nobody in Dieppe
knew who the Florentine Verazzani might be, and during his
apprenticeship there he had been known as Florin--the Florentine. In his
boyhood the magnificent Medici, the merchant princes, had ruled
Florence. After the fall of Constantinople he had seen the mastery of
the sea pass from Venice to Lisbon. When he left Florence he followed
the call of the sea-wind westward until now he had cast his lot with
the seafarers of northern France, the only bit of the Continent that was
outside the shadow of the mighty power of Spain. That shadow was growing
bigger and darker year by year. The heir to the Spanish throne, Charles,
grandson of Ferdinand and Isabella, would be emperor of Germany, ruler
of the Netherlands, King of Aragon, Castile, Granada and Andalusia, and
sovereign of all the Spanish discoveries in the West; and no one knew
how far they might extend. France might have to fight for her life.
Meanwhile Norman and Breton fishermen went scudding across the North
Atlantic every year, like so many petrels. Honfleur, Saint Malo, La
Rochelle and Dieppe owed their modest prosperity to the cod. Baccalao,
codfish or stockfish, all its names referred to the beating of the fish
while drying, with a stick, to make it more tender; it was cheaper and
more plentiful than any other fish for the Lenten tables and fast-days
of Europe. The daring French captains found the fishing trade a hard
life but a clean one.
From the fishermen Aubert and Verrazzano had learned something of the
nature of the country. Bears would come down to steal fish from under
the noses of the men. Walrus and seal and myriads of screaming sea-gulls
greeted them every season. The natives were barbarous and unfriendly.
North of Newfoundland were two small islands known as the Isles of
Demons, where nobody ever went. Veteran pilots told of hearing the
unseen devils howling and shrieking in the air. "Saint Michael!
tintamarre terrible!" they said, crossing themselves. The young
Florentine listened and kept his thoughts to himself. He had never seen
any devils, but he had seen men go mad in the hot fever-mist of African
swamps, thinking they saw them.
Aubert was not sure whether this was an inlet, a strait or a river
behind the great barren island. When he had sailed westward for eighty
leagues the water was still salt. The banks had drawn closer together
and rude fortifications appeared on the heights. Canoes put forth from
the wooded shores and surrounded the sailing ship. They were filled with
copper-colored warriors of threatening aspect.
The French commander did not like what he saw. He was not provisioned
for a voyage around the world, and if these waters were the eastern
entrance to a strait he might emerge upon a vast unknown ocean. If on
the other hand he was at the mouth of a river, to ascend it might result
in being cut off by hostile savages, which would be most unpleasant. A
third consideration was that the inhabitants were said to live on fish,
game, and berries, none of which could be secured, either peaceably or
by fighting, in an enemy's country. Making hostages of seven young
savages who climbed his bulwarks without any invitation, he put about
and sailed away. During the following year the seven wild men were
exhibited at Rouen and elsewhere.
Aubert had made sure of one thing at least; the land to the west was not
in the least like the rich islands which the Spanish held in the
tropics. Except in the brief season when the swarming cod filled the
seines of the fishermen, it yielded no wealth, not even in slaves, for
the fierce and shy natives would be almost uncatchable and quite
impossible to tame.
Francis of Angoulême, the brilliant, reckless and extravagant young
French King, was hard pushed to get money for his own Court, and was
not interested in expeditions whose only result might be glory. He
jested over the threatening Spanish dominion as he did over everything
else. Italian dukedoms were overrun by troops from France, Spain,
Austria and Switzerland, and Francis welcomed Italian artists,
architects and poets to his capital. When the plague attacked Paris he
removed to one of the royal châteaux in the country or paid visits to
great noblemen like his cousin Charles de Bourbon. It was in 1522 at
Moulins, the splendid country estate of the Duc de Bourbon, that the
monarch met a captain of whom he had heard a great deal--all of it
gratifying. He had in mind a new enterprise for this Verrazzano.
During the last seven or eight years Verrazzano, like many other
captains, had been engaged in the peculiar kind of expedition dubbed
piracy or privateering according to the person speaking. France and
Spain were neither exactly at peace nor openly at war. The Florentine
had gone out upon the high seas in command of a ship fitted out and
armed at his own risk, and fought Spanish galleons wherever he met them.
This helped to embarrass the King of Spain in his wars abroad. Galleons
eastward bound were usually treasure-ships. The colonial governors,
planters, captains and common soldiers took all the gold they could get
for themselves, and the gold, silver and pearls that went as tribute to
the royal master in Spain had to run the gauntlet of these fierce and
fearless sea-wolves. The wealth of the Indies was really a possession of
doubtful value. It attracted pirates as honey draws flies. When these
pirates turned a part of their spoils over to kings who were not
friendly to Spain, it was particularly exasperating.
Francis had asked Verrazzano to come to Moulins because, from what he
had heard, it seemed to him that here was a man who could take care of
himself and hold his tongue, and he liked such men. The experience
reminded the Florentine of the great days of the Medici. Charles de
Bourbon's palace at Moulins was fit for a king. Unlike most French
châteaux, which were built on low lands among the hunting forests, it
stood on a hill in a great park, and was surrounded with terraces,
fountains, and gardens in the Italian style. Moreover its furniture was
permanent, not brought in for royal guests and then taken away. The
richness and beauty of its tapestries, state beds, decorations, and
other belongings was beyond anything in any royal palace of that time.
The duke's household included five hundred gentlemen in rich suits of
Genoese velvet, each wearing a massive gold chain passing three times
round the neck and hanging low in front; they attended the guests in
divisions, one hundred at a time.
The feasting was luxurious, and many of its choice dishes were supplied
by the estate. There were rare fruits and herbs in the gardens, and a
great variety of game-birds and animals in the park and the forest. But
there were also imported delicacies--Windsor beans, Genoa artichokes,
Barbary cucumbers and Milan parsley. The first course consisted of Médoc
oysters, followed by a light soup. The fish course included the royal
sturgeon, the dorado or sword-fish, the turbot. Then came heron, cooked
in the fashion of the day, with sugar, spice and orange-juice; olives,
capers and sour fruits; pheasants, red-legged partridges, and the
favorite roast, sucking-pig parboiled and then roasted with a stuffing
of chopped meats, herbs, raisins and damson plums. There were salads of
fruit,--such as the King's favorite of oranges, lemons and sugar with
sweet herbs,--or of herbs, such as parsley and mint with pepper,
cinnamon and vinegar. For dessert there were Italian ices and
confectionery, and the Queen's favorite plum, Reine Claude, imported
from Italy; the white wine called Clairette-au-miel, hypocras,
gooseberry and plum wines, lemonade, champagne. There was never a King
who could appreciate such artistic luxury more deeply than Francis I.
This may be one reason for his warm welcome of Verrazzano, who seemed to
be able to increase the wealth of his country and his King.
"I have had a very indignant visit from the Spanish ambassador," said
Francis when they were seated together in a private room. "He says that
there has been piracy on the high seas, my Verrazzano."
The Italian met the laughing glance of the King with a somber gleam in
his own dark eyes. "Does one steal from a robber?" he asked. "Not a
quill of gold-dust nor an ingot of silver nor a seed-pearl comes
honestly to Spain. It is all cruelty, bribery, slavery. Savonarola
threatened Lorenzo de' Medici with eternal fires, prince as he was, for
sins that were peccadilloes beside those of Spanish governors."
"There is something in what you say," assented Francis lightly. "If we
get the treasure of the Indies without owning the Indies we are
certainly rid of much trouble. I never heard of Father Adam making any
will dividing the earth between our brother of Spain and our brother of
Portugal. Unless they can find such a document--" the laughing face
hardened suddenly into keen attention, "we may as well take what we can
get where we can find it. And now about this road to India; what have
you to suggest?"
Verrazzano outlined his plans in brief speech and clear. The proposed
voyage might have two objects; one, the finding of a route to Asia if it
existed; the other, the discovery of other countries from which wealth
might be gained, in territory not yet explored. Verrazzano pointed out
the fact that, as the earth was round, the shortest way to India ought
to be near the pole rather than near the equator, yet far enough to the
south to escape the danger of icebergs.
"Very well then,"--the King pondered with finger on cheek. "Say as
little as possible of your preparations, use your own discretion, and if
any Spaniards try to interfere with you--" the monarch grinned,--"tell
them that it is my good pleasure that my subjects go where they like."
The Spanish agents in France presently informed their employer that the
Florentine Verrazzano was again making ready to sail for regions
unknown. Perhaps he did not himself know where he should go; at any rate
the spies had not been able to find out.
Two months later news came that before Verrazzano had gone far enough to
be caught by the squadron lying in wait for him, he had pounced on the
great carrack which had been sent home by Cortes loaded with Aztec gold.
In convoying this prize to France he had caught another galleon coming
from Hispaniola with a cargo of gold and pearls, and the two rich
trophies were now in the harbor of La Rochelle, where the audacious
captain was doubtless making ready for another piratical voyage.
Verrazzano made a second start a little later, but was driven back by a
Biscay storm. Finally, toward the end of the year 1523, he set out once
more with only one ship, the _Dauphine_, out of his original fleet of
four, and neither friend nor foe caught a glimpse of him during the
voyage. In March, 1524, having sailed midway between the usual course of
the West Indian galleons and the path of the fishers going to and from
the Banks of Newfoundland, he saw land which he felt sure had not been
discovered either by ancient or modern explorers.
It was a low shore on which the fine sand, some fifteen feet deep, lay
drifted into hillocks or dunes. Small creeks and inlets ran inland, but
there seemed to be no good harbor. Beyond the sand-dunes were forests of
cypress, palm, bay and other trees, and the wind bore the scent of
blossoming trees and vines far out to sea. For fifty leagues the
_Dauphine_ followed the coast southward, looking for a harbor, for
Verrazzano knew that pearl fisheries and spices were far more likely to
be found in southern than in northern waters. No harbor appeared. The
daring navigator knew that if he went too far south he ran some risk of
encountering a Spanish fleet, and that after his getting two of the most
valuable cargoes ever sent over seas, they would be patroling all the
tropical waters in the hope of catching him. He turned north again.
On the shore from time to time little groups of savages appeared moving
about great bonfires, and watching the ship. They wore hardly any
clothing except the skin of some small animal like a marten, attached to
a belt of woven grass; their skins were russet-brown and their thick
straight black hair was tied in a knot rather like a tail.
"One thing is certain," said young François Parmentier cheerfully,
"these folk have never seen Spaniards--or Portuguese. Even on the
Labrador the people ran from us, after Cortereale went slave-stealing
there."
Verrazzano smiled. Young Parmentier was always full of hope and faith. A
little later the youth volunteered to be one of a boat's crew sent
ashore for water, and provided himself with a bagful of the usual
trinkets for gifts. The surf ran so high that the boat could not land,
and François leaped overboard and swam ashore. Here he scattered his
wares among the watching Indians, and then, leaping into the waves
again, struck out for the boat. But the surf dashed him back upon the
sand into the very midst of the natives, who seized him by the arms and
legs and carried him toward the fire, while he yelled with astonishment
and terror.
Verrazzano was if anything more horrified than François himself; this
was the son of his oldest friend. The Indians were removing his clothing
as if they were about to roast him alive. But it appeared presently that
they only wished to dry his clothes and comfort him, for they soon
allowed him to return to the boat, seeing this was his earnest desire,
and watched him with the greatest friendliness as he swam back.
No strait appeared, but at one point Verrazzano, landing and marching
into the interior with an exploring party, found a vast expanse of water
on the other side of what seemed a neck of land between the two seas,
about six miles in width. If this were the South Sea, the same which
Balboa had seen from the Isthmus of Darien, so narrow a strip of land
was at least as good or better than anything possessed by Spain.
Verrazzano continued northward, and found a coast rich in grapes, the
vines often covering large trees around which the natives kept the
ground clear of shrubs that might interfere with this natural vineyard.
Wild roses, violets, lilies, iris and many other plants and flowers,
some quite unknown to Europe, greeted the admiring gaze of the
commander. His quick mind pictured a royal garden adorned with these
foreign shrubs and herbs, the wainscoting and furniture to be made by
French and Italian joiners from these endless leagues of timber, the
stately churches and castles which might be built by skilful masons from
the abundant stone along these shores. Here was a province which, if it
had not gold, had the material for many luxuries which must otherwise be
bought with gold, and his clear Italian brain perceived that ingots of
gold and silver are not the only treasure of kings.
At last the _Dauphine_ came into a harbor or lake three leagues in
circumference, where more than thirty canoes were assembled, filled with
people. Suddenly François Parmentier leaped to his feet and waved his
cap with a shout.
"Now what madness has taken you?" queried Verrazzano.
"I know where we are, that's all. This is Wampum Town,--L'Anormé
Berge--the Grand Scarp. This is one of their great trading places,
Captain. Father heard about it at Cape Breton from some south-country
savages."
"And what may wampum be?" asked Verrazzano coolly.
"'T is the stuff they use for money--bits of shell made into beads and
strung into a belt. There is an island in this bay where they make it
out of their shell-fish middens--two kinds--purple and white. On my
word, this big chief has on a wampum belt now!"
This was interesting information indeed, and the natives seemed prepared
to traffic in all peace and friendliness. Verrazzano found upon
investigation that on the north of this bay a very large river, deep at
the mouth, came down between steep hills. Afterward, following the shore
to the east, he discovered a fine harbor beyond a three-cornered island.
Here he met two chiefs of that country, a man of about forty, and a
young fellow of twenty-four, dressed in quaintly decorated deerskin
mantles, with chains set with colored stones about their necks. He
stayed two weeks, refitting the ship with provisions and other
necessaries, and observing the place. The crew got by trading and as
gifts the beans and corn cultivated by the people, wild fruits and nuts,
and furs. Further north they found the tribes less friendly, and at last
came so near the end of their provision that Verrazzano decided to
return to France. He reached home July 8, 1524, after having sailed
along seven hundred leagues of the Atlantic coast.
[Illustration: "The natives seemed prepared to traffic in all peace and
friendliness"--_Page_ 132]
Francis I. was in the thick of a disastrous war with Spain, and had not
time just then to consider further explorations. The war was not fairly
over when a Cadiz warship, in 1527, caught Verrazzano and hanged him as
a pirate.