TWO INMATES OF A GUARD-HOUSE
Samuel de Champlain was one of the most daring and persistent of
explorers in the New World. Before coming of age he visited the West
Indies and Mexico, going down the Pacific coast of the latter country
as far as Panama. Then as he crossed the isthmus he conceived the idea,
which he afterwards made public, of a ship canal that should connect
the two oceans. His next voyage, inspired by the published narrative of
Jacques Cartier, carried him into the St. Lawrence and up that mighty
river as far as Hochelaga (Montreal), which point Cartier had also
reached nearly seventy years earlier.
Champlain subsequently explored the coasts of Canada and New England,
helped to found the unfortunate settlements of St. Croix and Port
Royal, and sailed to the southward as far as Cape Cod. On his way he
stopped in Boston harbor, which he describes as being filled with
heavily wooded islands. He also discovered the Charles River, and named
it Rivière du Guast. On the following day he took refuge from a gale
in Plymouth harbor, which he named Port St. Louis, and which he thus
visited long before the Pilgrims landed on its shores.
After spending some years on the coast and crossing the Atlantic
several times, the energetic Frenchman again entered the St. Lawrence
and sailed as far as Stadaconie, where Cartier first and after him
Roberval had planted ill-starred and short-lived settlements. At this
point Champlain determined to establish a base from which to explore
the vast regions that, hidden in savage mystery, stretched away
indefinitely on all sides. It should also be head-quarters for the
greatest fur trade the world had ever known, and for the religious
institutions from which he hoped to spread Christianity among the
heathen.
Here, then, on a narrow strand at the foot of towering cliffs, he set
his men to work, and before the summer was ended they had erected three
spacious buildings, enclosed them within a stout palisade, planted
defensive batteries, dug a moat around the whole, cleared land for a
garden, and opened up a trade with the neighboring Indians. Thus was
begun a city destined to become one of the most important of the New
World, and to it Champlain gave the name of Quebec, which was his
pronunciation of a native word signifying a narrowing of the river.
In Quebec, twenty-seven years later, the great Frenchman died, leaving
behind him a record of adventure and achievement such as but few others
could show. He had succeeded where many had failed, and had established
an empire in the New World. He had crossed the ocean more than a score
of times to make himself equally welcome in the court circles of
France and beside the council-fires of Huron warriors. He had explored
the Ottawa to its head-waters, crossed the divide to Lake Nipissing,
descended to Georgian Bay, and was the first white man to gaze upon the
inland sea that he named Lake Huron. He next discovered Lake Ontario,
crossed it in a bark canoe, and penetrated the Iroquois country as far
as the site of Syracuse. In the beautiful lake that bears his name he
has an enduring monument. He started on the journey that ended on Lake
Champlain with the hope, then common to all explorers, of discovering
a western passage to China, and only failed because he could not find
what did not exist. Instead of it, he discovered, saved from an awful
death, and carried to Quebec the youth who was to become known to the
world as Massasoit, chief of the Wampanoags.
Champlain had long been looking for some young Indian of intelligence
and proved courage whom he might teach to speak his own language,
attach to his person, and employ to advantage in his proposed
explorations. In Nahma he believed he had found all the desired
qualities, and, what was still better, the youth, being an Iroquois,
would never join any Huron conspiracy against the French. The shrewd
adventurer was therefore greatly pleased with his prize and impatient
to begin his training. At the same time he found his Huron allies so
jealous of his liking for an Iroquois, that while he remained in their
company he dared not treat his captive with any marked attention. He
saw that Nahma was provided with food, and would not permit him to be
beaten or abused, as were some of the prisoners, but that was all. He
dared not even have the youth in his own canoe, much as he wished to
gain his confidence. Thus, Nahma saw but little of his white companions
on the weary journey that finally ended at Quebec.
At the mouth of the Richelieu the victorious war-party disbanded, the
larger number, together with most of the prisoners, going up the St.
Lawrence towards their homes on the Ottawa, and only half a dozen
canoes of Montagnais, who dwelt on the Saguenay, followed Champlain
down the great river. As these came within sight of Quebec they raised
a triumphant war-song and plied their paddles with redoubled energy,
while Champlain and the other white men discharged their muskets in
token of victory. This was the first news of their absent leader
received by the anxious garrison since his departure, and in their joy
over his safe return they gave him a thunderous welcome from their
cannon.
Not only did this dreadful sound nearly paralyze poor Nahma, but it
so terrified a small party of Indians who were trading within the
fort that they rushed from it in dismay, took to their canoes, and
paddled off with all speed. So precipitate was their flight that they
left behind one of their number, who in his terror had leaped from a
second-story window of the trading house and broken a leg.
Champlain had left his infant colony in charge of Pierre Chauvin, a
smart young officer, who now met him outside the palisades with tidings
that caused an instant change of plan. The only ship that would return
to France that year had dropped down to Tadousac for a lading of furs
but two days earlier. For a moment Champlain hesitated, and then his
mind was made up. He must board that ship before she sailed, for he had
despatches of the utmost importance to send home by her. Thus he must
immediately hasten to Tadousac. This decision he imparted to Chauvin,
adding,--
"I will shortly return, and until then take thou good care of this
youth." Here the speaker indicated Nahma. "See that he escape not, for
his security is of importance to our cause. Keep him, then, safely
until I come again, when I will inform thee further concerning him. _Au
revoir, mon ami._ May the saints protect thee."
Thus saying, Champlain rejoined his Indian allies, who were impatient
to be off, and in another minute was again sweeping down the great
river. By his order Nahma had been hastily bundled ashore, and now
stood gazing first at the wonderful structures rising close at hand
and then at the disappearing canoes. Chauvin stood near by, biting his
moustache and growling at his chief's sudden departure.
"I wish I were in his place," he muttered; "and if once I could set
foot on shipboard I would sail away never again to revisit this
detestable country. How now, you spawn! What are you staring at?" he
cried, suddenly turning upon Nahma, who was looking curiously at him.
Chauvin hated Indians as he did everything else in the country that had
so bitterly disappointed his dreams of easily acquired wealth, and he
was disgusted that one of them should now be left in his care.
"Away with him to the guard-house!" he shouted to a couple of soldiers
in attendance, "and keep him in close confinement until the governor's
return, since that is his Excellency's order."
So Nahma was roughly hustled away, led inside the palisade, across
the enclosed court, and thrust into the guard-house. It was a small
structure solidly built of logs, having a rude stone chimney and a
single unglazed window some eighteen inches square that was fitted with
iron bars and could be closed from the outside by a heavy shutter.
There were also bars across the throat of the chimney. The floor was
of earth and the room was unfurnished. As the massive door of this
dungeon swung to with a crash behind him the young Indian stood for a
moment motionless. Then, in a frenzy of rage, he dashed himself against
the immovable barrier, clutched at the window-bars in a vain effort to
wrench them from their fastenings, and rushed about the narrow space,
seeking some outlet, like a wild animal when first caged.
While our lad was thus engaged the door of his prison was again flung
open and two soldiers entered. Still possessed by his frenzy, Nahma
sprang forward, determined to kill them and make good his escape or die
in the attempt; but the sight of a burden that they bore caused him to
pause. It was the form of another Indian youth apparently helpless.
Behind them came others bringing straw, two blankets, food, and a jug
of water. With the straw and blankets they made a bed in one corner, on
which they laid the wounded youth. Then without a word to the prisoner
they departed, barring the door behind them.
Now our lad had at least something to occupy his mind and divert his
thoughts from his own unhappiness. He saw that the new-comer was
neither a Huron nor an Iroquois; but as he bent over him and began to
ask questions he discovered that they had many words of the wide-spread
Algonquin tongue in common. Thus he quickly learned that the other was
named Tasquanto, that he was of a band of the Abenakis who had come
to Quebec to trade, and that, terrified by the awful noise of cannon,
he had leaped from a window and broken a leg. His comrades having
deserted him, he had been brought to the guard-house that the only
other Indian remaining in the fort might wait upon him.
So Nahma was provided with an occupation that probably prevented
him from either killing himself in his despair or losing his mind.
Thanks to the teaching of Kaweras, he was able to set and properly
bandage Tasquanto's broken limb, and for weeks thereafter he was his
fellow-prisoner's devoted attendant.
In the mean time the green of summer was succeeded by the gorgeous
tints of autumn, and its short-lived glory gave way to the white
desolation of a northern winter; but Champlain did not return to
Quebec, nor did any word come from him. At the end of two months
Chauvin sent messengers to Tadousac; but they returned without having
seen a living soul, white or red; and not until the weary winter was
half spent did the garrison of that lonely fort learn what had become
of the leader whom they were mourning as dead.