He was missed from the deck by those of the rough colonists who knew him by sight; but a rumour had gone about among the crew that he had insulted De Roberval's niece, and no one ventured to express pity for his fate. The few men of gentle blood on board knew, or suspected, the true version of the story, but regard for Marguerite's good name compelled them to keep silence.
While Claude was pining in his prison Marguerite's heart was growing hard within her. She could no longer bring herself to respect her uncle. She shed no tears, nor would she listen to words of sympathy from her friend Marie, or the old bonne; but her face grew pale and set, and a resolute expression formed itself about her mouth.
The sailors revered her as a saint; and when she appeared on deck the roughest man took off his cap as she passed, and hushed the profanity on his lips. Suspicions of the true state of the case were abroad, but no one dared to show sympathy with the prisoner. The men stood in great awe of De Roberval, and still more of the terrible Gaillon, who was daily advancing in favour with his master, whose devoted attendant he had now become.
Matters were still in this state, and De Roberval showed no signs of relenting, when, early in the month of June, the rugged shores of Newfoundland loomed up before the grateful eyes of the crew. It was not their destination, but at least it was land; and although there were still dangers to be passed, in those days it was the broad stretch of the ocean which tried the seamen's nerves. They hailed with joy the first glimpse of the New World after the terrible tedium of the voyage.
The three vessels soon swept through the narrow entrance, and the sailors were delighted to see before them seventeen fishing-boats riding safely in the harbour. De Roberval cast anchor, intending to stock his vessels with fish, and procure fresh water. But he had scarcely finished his preparations when a report ran through the ships that three other vessels were entering the harbour. He knew that the Spaniards had eyed with jealousy the expedition when it was being fitted out, and believed that the attack of Pamphilo de Narvaez upon him and his party had been intended to put an end to the venture. Thinking, therefore, that it might be an enemy who was approaching, he was about to order his men to their guns, when the leading vessel unfurled the broad white flag strewn with the fleur-de-lis of France. His men, at the welcome sight, sent up a wild shout of joy which sounded through the harbour, and was re-echoed from the fleet of fishermen. Whose could the ships be? Had King Francis repented of his generosity, and sent a fleet to recall him? That could hardly be. One vessel would have been sufficient for that purpose. While he debated in his mind the probable destination of the fleet, the leading vessel swung round, her sails dropped, and as the anchor rattled down into the dark waters De Roberval recognised La Grande Hermine. Cartier deserting his post? What could be the meaning of this?
While the attention of every one on board the vessel was thus diverted, and not a soul was left below to observe her actions, Marguerite resolved to put into execution a plan she had long ago formed. She had discovered a loose board in the flooring of her cabin, and with the aid of Bastienne and Marie she now succeeded in removing it. Their united efforts disclosed a hole large enough for her to pass through. A huge rat rushed out as the plank was removed, causing the other two women to shriek aloud. Marguerite shuddered as she looked into the black depths below, and thought of the horrors Claude must have endured all these weeks. Unhesitatingly she lowered herself down on the rough barrels, boxes, and bags, and began feeling her way in the darkness, calling softly on her lover's name. For some time there was no response, but as she reached a cleared space, the light from an opening in the deck above revealed Claude pacing restlessly to and fro in his narrow prison, his ears strained to catch the meaning of the sounds from above. She was by his side in an instant.
"Marguerite!"
He uttered but the one word, and stood gazing at her, but without touching her. Coming suddenly upon him out of the darkness he took her for a vision. But her arms were about his neck, and the warm pressure of her cheek against his convinced him of the reality of her presence. He could not take her in his manacled arms; but she kissed the fettered wrists, and wept to see the terrible difference the six weeks had wrought in his once stalwart form. The strong young soldier himself, to whom the sudden shock of joy had come so unexpectedly after his long and dreary solitude, could not keep back the tears. Their words were few and broken. Marguerite told him how she had found a way to reach him, and how the other two women were keeping guard above till her return; and he showed her the narrow space where he had walked up and down in the twilight all these weary days, and the hard pallet where he had slept. Her tears flowed afresh at the sight. But the increasing noise on the deck above, the sounds of heavy feet and of men shouting, recalled them to the present.
"Where are we, dearest?" said Claude. "We cannot have reached Charlesbourg Royal?"
"No, would to Heaven that we had! It is Newfoundland, and my uncle has anchored to procure fresh water. O Claude, I shudder to think what will become of us. My uncle is surely mad. His temper has become so ungovernable that scarce a man on board dares to address him. I have thought sometimes that that wretch Gaillon, who is constantly in attendance upon him, must be keeping him under the influence of some drug or charm which is surely sapping his intelligence. I tremble when he approaches, for I know not what fresh insult he may heap upon me."