The silence of M. Saint-Luc de Lacorne, the grief stamped upon his countenance, confirmed Captain D'Haberville's worst fears.
"Accursed be the tyrant," cried the captain, "who in the bitterness of his hate against the French sent so many good men to their death in an old ship utterly unseaworthy!"
"Instead of cursing your enemies," said M. de Saint-Luc in a hoarse voice, "thank God that you and your family got leave to remain in the colony two years longer. And now, a glass of brandy and a little soup. I have been so nearly starved that my stomach refuses solid food. Let me also take a little rest before telling you a story which will call forth many tears."
In the neighborhood of half an hour, for this man of iron needed but little rest to recover his strength, M. de Saint-Luc began as follows:
"In spite of the English governor's impatience to banish from New France those who had so valiantly defended her, the authorities had placed at our disposal only two ships, which were found utterly insufficient for the great number of French and Canadians who were waiting to sail. I pointed this out to General Murray, and proposed to buy one at my own expense. This he would not hear, but two days later he placed at our disposal the ship Auguste, hastily commissioned for the purpose. By a payment of five hundred Spanish piasters, I obtained from the English captain the exclusive use of his cabin for myself and family.
"I then pointed out to General Murray the danger to which we should be exposed at this stormy season with a captain not familiar with the St. Lawrence. I offered to hire and pay for a pilot myself. His answer was, that we would have the same chance as the rest; but he ended by sending a little vessel to pilot us clear of the river.
"We were all in deep dejection, a prey to the gloomiest forebodings, when we raised anchor on the 15th of October last. Many of us, forced to sell our properties at a ruinous sacrifice, had but a future of poverty to look forward to in the mother country. Speeding at first before a favorable wind, with swelling hearts we saw the cherished and familiar scenes fade out behind us and fall below the horizon.
"I will not detail the many perils we underwent before the great calamity out of which but myself and six others escaped alive. On the 16th we came within an ace of shipwreck on the Isle aux Coudres, after the loss of our main anchor.
"On the 4th of November we were struck by a terrific gale, which lasted two days, and which we weathered with difficulty. On the 7th a fire broke out three times in the cook's galley, and was extinguished only after a desperate struggle. I shall not endeavor to paint the scenes on shipboard while it seemed likely we should be burned in the open sea.
"On the 11th we escaped as by a miracle from being dashed to pieces on a rock off Isle Royale.