The gray-haired De Chastes, worn out by the rigors of the voyage, now passed to the great beyond, leaving his title to the great land of New France to Sieur de Monts, who immediately petitioned the King to allow him to colonize Acadie, a region defined as extending from Philadelphia to Montreal. Truly these early adventurers had magnificent ideas of distance, quite in keeping with their ambitious designs of conquest! The King readily gave him what he desired, so, with one vessel, he sailed from Havre de Grace upon the seventh day of April, 1604.
But how about the adventure-loving Champlain? He remained at home not only for that year, but for five full years, while De Monts and his men were having plenty of hard knocks and experience in the bleak land of New France.
The good seaman, in fact, quietly resided in Paris, but his unquiet thoughts were ever turning westward. He was enamored with the strange, hemlock-wooded country whose rugged hills and blue rivers were mirrored upon his memory and continually urged him to “come back and explore!” Even as Commander Peary has said that he pined for Arctic ice and snow, so, with restless longing, the noble-hearted Frenchman ever sighed for days upon the broad surface of the St. Lawrence, with starlit nights filled with the balsamy odors of the forests. Upon the banks near the mountain of Montreal he had determined to lay out a settlement, from which, as a base, the waters might be traced back far into the vast interior of the continent. With eager and tempestuous thoughts, he yearned to be once more scudding by the two peaks, which held high their heads as the Saguenay discharged its swift-moving current into the rushing St. Lawrence, far, far beneath them.
The danger-loving De Monts returned after four years of adventure. To him Champlain expressed his views, which met with a ready response. Yes, indeed, they would go forth together, would trade with the Indians, bring back a cargo of furs, and would found a town by those whirling rapids, ’neath the mountain of Montreal.
On April the 16th. 1604, they sailed in a ship of 150 tons from Havre de Grace, with a mixed company of priests, Huguenot ministers, impressed rogues, and honest settlers. Another vessel, under one Pontgrave, had preceded them by eight days, for she was laden with goods for the Indian trade at Tadoussac.
By the third of June the adventurous Champlain neared the mouth of the Saguenay. The robust Frenchmen eagerly breathed in the clear air of the St. Lawrence, tinged with the faint smell of the spruce and the balsamy hemlock. The little vessel, swept by the tide and eddies, held its course up the stream until the Island of Orleans was reached. Then it was run towards the northern bank and was anchored beneath the high cliffs of Quebec. The men went ashore, axes rang against the tree trunks, and soon a number of wooden buildings arose on the brink of the St. Lawrence, not far from the present market-place of the Lower Town. A settlement had been founded in the wilderness, which was to exist for centuries.
It was now the eighteenth day of September. Pontgrave set sail for France, leaving Champlain with twenty-eight men to hold Quebec throughout the winter. October was soon upon them, October with its crystal air, shriveling leaves and laughing sun; but it soon passed away, and the chill of frosty winter settled upon the little colony. It was to be a cold and cheerless stay, and, as is always the case when men are in need of fresh vegetables, the scurvy broke out among the adventurers, killing many and seriously crippling the remainder. By the middle of May, only eight men out of the twenty-eight were alive, and of these half were suffering from the dreadful disease. Champlain, however, seems to have been an iron fellow, and successfully withstood the lack of that which it is necessary to eat in order to ward away the awful pestilence.
But every lane has its turning, and Spring at last put in an appearance. Ice and snow melted under the genial rays of the sun, the honk! honk! of the wild geese was heard as they winged their way towards the north, and the bluebirds warbled from the budding maple trees. Great was the joy of the survivors of this awful winter when they saw a sail-boat rounding the Point of Orleans, and cheers greeted the French explorer Marias as he cast anchor in the ice-freed river. He brought good news. Pontgrave had been to France and back again. He was then at Tadoussac, waiting to speak with Champlain, and to talk of further explorations into the wilderness.
The hardy explorer hastened to confer with his friend and companion, for, in spite of the pestilence, his giant constitution had defied the scurvy. Sailing down the St. Lawrence, they soon met, and it was determined between them, that, while Pontgrave remained in charge of Quebec, Champlain should at once enter upon his long-meditated explorations, by which, he foolishly had hope of finding a way to China.
Now was to be a series of great adventures. Late that Autumn a young chieftain from the banks of the Ottawa River had come to visit the half-starved colonists at Quebec, and had begged Champlain to join him, in the Spring, in an expedition against his enemies. These were the Iroquois, or dwellers in fortified villages within the limit of the present State of New York, who were a terror to all those tribes who lived north of them. They were not only warriors of fierceness and bold endeavor, but were also tillers of the soil, living at ease and affluence when compared with the Indians who fished, camped, and hunted game, near the waters of the blue St. Lawrence.