“Did you say he lives here now?” inquired Ben, solemnly.
Bob gave him a look of scorn and then went on with his story. “Francis I. fitted him out with two ships of sixty tons each, and with a crew of a hundred and twenty men he set sail from St. Malo, April 20, 1534. They say it was only twenty days later when he reached the east coast of Newfoundland.”
“They say?” interrupted Ben. “Who are ‘they’?”
“The historians, and other fellows. He sailed north, and finally planted a cross on the coast of Labrador near Rock Bay.”
“What did he plant it for?”
“Then he went south,” continued Bob, without giving any heed to the interruption, “and came down the west coast of Newfoundland until finally he was driven by the unfavorable winds toward the Magdalen Islands. He soon started out again, and, still sailing west, landed at last at the mouth of the Miramichi, and with some of his men began to explore the bay of Chaleur; but pretty soon afterward he set sail with his ships—”
“Did he take his men with him?” interrupted Ben.
“And sailed north and landed in the bay of Gaspé. He thought the bay was the mouth of a large river, so he landed and remained there a little while before he started on again.”
“He was a wise man,” said Ben. “Now if he’d remained there after he’d started on, that would have been another matter. But to remain there before he left the place,—ah, that’s the man for me, every time.”