"Sacré Dieu!" shouted Roberval; "you have ruined us all! Did I give you the fate you deserve, I would hang you as high as I did Bruneau yesterday! Take him below," exclaimed he to the men who stood by, "and keep him in irons for the rest of the voyage."
"Be not too hard upon the young man, Sieur," interposed Jehan Alfonse, stepping forward; "he is a faithful sailor, and a true; and we have too few reliable men on board to turn those against us on whom we can depend."
"Silence!" roared De Roberval, now in a towering passion. "Have I asked for your advice? I know on what I can depend—my own will and yonder rope. Have a care lest you find your own head in it."
"Sieur," rejoined the sailing-master, with firmness, "you may insult me—you may hang me if you will—but I must speak. I warn you that if you pursue your present course the expedition will be ruined before we reach Charlesbourg Royal, if it is not already ruined. Your hasty words to Jacques Cartier yesterday have lost us the best seaman in the world, for he has doubtless set sail for France."
"You will find, at least," exclaimed De Roberval, who was by this time in a white heat, "that I am commander in my own ship. Leave the vessel at once. Board the François, and take with you this villain whose carelessness has ruined our fortunes. And stay. I will be generous. You are possessed by a mad idea that by going north you will find a way to China and the Indies. Go, then, and when you have finished your fool's errand return to Charlesbourg Royal, and prepare to obey my commands."
Jehan Alfonse's heart leaped with delight. He cared not for insults now; he was free, in command of a ship, and could follow out the cherished scheme of his life! He would find what Columbus had failed to discover—the long-sought north-west passage. This great polar current which swept down from the north must come from somewhere. He would follow the coast of Labrador. This mighty continent could not go on for ever; there must be a way round it, and his name would be handed down as its discoverer. He was not long in leaving L'Heureux, and before the day closed was out of sight on his northward journey.
De Roberval had a sinister motive in sending him away. He had spent a sleepless night. The evening before Père Lebeau had had a long interview with him, and had pleaded the cause of Marguerite and her lover, assuring De Roberval of their innocence, and begging him to persist no longer in his cruel imprisonment of Claude. But De Roberval's insensate rage was only increased. He refused to listen to arguments, and ordered the priest from his presence. The good father, seeing that his efforts were only making the situation worse, was obliged to desist from his entreaties, and left the cabin with a heavy heart. During the whole night De Roberval lay awake, brooding over some means of avenging his insulted authority; and by morning he had decided that De Pontbriand should be made an example to the crew. The form of Bruneau kept swinging back and forth before his disordered mental vision, and as he gazed upon it he resolved that De Pontbriand's should take its place. At first, as the diabolical thought took shape, he recoiled from it. Hang a gentleman of France! But a madness seized him, and crushing down his better impulses he decided to put his resolve into execution, and teach all on board that the same fate awaited every man—be he noble or peasant—who disobeyed his will.
But he feared Jehan Alfonse. He knew the staunch and courageous sailing-master would oppose his action; and he determined to get rid of him. He smiled a grim smile as he saw his vessel fleetly winging her way out to the Atlantic. He dreaded Cartier, too; and had made up his mind to delay the execution until he had sent him on his way towards Charlesbourg Royal. Now, however, he could proceed with his scheme; both the obstacles had been removed, and nothing need prevent his carrying out his plan at once. But he feared lest Paul d'Auxhillon, and the one or two friends of Claude who had accompanied him, might oppose his design; and, accordingly, he consulted with Gaillon before putting it into execution.
That villain was delighted with the turn things were taking.
"You are acting wisely, noble Sieur," he said. "I have long felt that De Pontbriand there in the hold was the gravest menace to the success of our colony. Already I have discovered several plots for his release, and I have long known that only his death could bring us safety. But do not proceed with his execution till the morrow. To-night I will sound the faithful, and have them ready to strike down any one offering the least resistance. Would it not be well to have all on board witness this meting-out of justice?"