Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier

by Thomas Guthrie Marquis

But old Bastienne came once more to the rescue. Her stolid, peasant endurance and ready Picard wit stood the whole party in good stead. She found a flint and steel—for De Roberval had provided for all necessities—and with the aid of the two girls she collected brushwood and dry branches enough to make a huge fire, the smoke of which, rising high into the air, was visible on the horizon from the departing ship. The sailors fell on their knees in terror at the sight, believing it another proof that the demons were consuming their victims with unquenchable flames.

Bastienne soon had Claude's wet clothes dried, and his strength revived by hot stimulants. Provisions they had in plenty—of the rude fare which was provided on ship-board in those days—and the old woman prepared a hasty meal, of which she forced the two girls to partake. But by this time the darkness had gathered round them, and it was impossible to do anything further that night.

Fortunately, the time of year was a favourable one. The weather was warm, even for June; and the storm which Roberval had predicted seemed to have passed over, for the present at all events. The balmy air and clear sky of a Canadian summer night made the prospect of spending it in the open air a much less terrible one than it would otherwise have been. They kept their fire up all night, as a protection, but they met with no alarms, and were unmolested, save by the insects which swarmed in the air around them, attracted by the light. Claude, worn out by fatigue, slept the deep sleep of exhaustion, and Marguerite spent most of the night watching by his side, while the other two women attended to the fire.

The short June night soon gave place to the ghostly, grey twilight before the dawn; and at last the welcome streaks of colour in the east proclaimed to the weary watchers that daylight was again at hand. Their first night in their island home was over.

The morning broke fair and cloudless, and the little colony of four set about surveying their situation, and exploring their new domain. They found it a wilderness indeed—barren, rocky, almost devoid of vegetation, save for the coarse bracken and juniper bushes which grew in patches, and for an occasional clump of birches, stunted pines, or firs. No sign that any human foot save their own had ever visited it could be discovered: and the only animals they met with were hares in abundance, and foxes, both red and black, which scampered away in terror at their approach, and surveyed them from a distance with bright, timid eyes. Sea-birds in great numbers hovered about the cliffs on the shore, and what most aroused their astonishment and interest, were the solemn, ungainly auks, which had their abodes along the beach. These uncouth and helpless-looking birds, disturbed in their occupation of fishing among the rocky shallows, waddled off in alarm at the approach of the intruders, who were irresistibly moved to laughter at their clumsy movements. No doubt these strange creatures had in part given rise to many a weird tale of the demon inhabitants of the island.

De Pontbriand, whose strength was wonderfully recruited by the long rest and Bastienne's skilful treatment, set about preparing some kind of shelter for the women before another night should descend upon them. His soldiering experiences, and still more his adventures in the wilds of Canada, came to his aid, and he was not long in constructing a sort of rude wigwam, such as he had seen the Indians build wherever they pitched their camps. Fragrant pine boughs made a luxurious couch, and the exhausted girls were glad to throw themselves down and sleep, while Claude kept watch by the fire outside. On the next day, and the two following ones, he employed himself in thatching the primitive dwelling with birch bark and whatever materials he could find which would shed the rain from its sloping sides. For himself, he found a sheltered hollow among the rocks, where neither wind nor rain could affect him greatly, and their stores he disposed among the many similar rocky caverns with which the island abounded.

His preparations were finished none too soon. The clouds which had been hovering about for several days, finally gathered together one afternoon, and rolled in heavy, thunderous masses up out of the southern sky. The air grew dark and sultry, lightning flashed from the depths of the purple cloud-bank; soon the thunder crashed overhead, and the waves lashed themselves in fury against the shore. The storm was upon them in all its might. It was not of long duration, but was followed by a good deal of rain during the night, and the next morning there was a furious gale blowing. The waves rose to such a height that the spray from their crests was dashed over the frail shelter Claude had erected; and he saw that something more permanent and durable must be contrived. Summer would pass, and winter might swoop down upon them out of the desolate north before there was any chance of their being rescued. A dwelling which would be a protection from cold and snow and the biting blasts of a Canadian winter, must be erected. But how? And with what materials? Tools he had in plenty, but how to construct a dwelling out of the stunted and wind-twisted trees, which were all the timber the island afforded, was a conundrum he saw no prospect of solving.

As it happened, however, fortune favoured him. The very next day, as he wandered along a high, rocky part of the shore, he saw in the shallow water at his feet what seemed to be the hull of a vessel. Making his way down the cliff, he found to his delight that such was indeed the case. No doubt these were the remains of that same ill-fated craft which Laurent, the fisherman, had seen disappear beneath the waves. The timbers had been of good oak, and the waves, breaking them asunder as they rolled in from the mighty expanse outside, had washed many of them high and dry on the shore. There was abundance for a hut, and with these, and the help of what trees he could avail himself of, he had hopes of being able to build a more substantial habitation before the cold weather set in.

In the meantime, his strength came rapidly back to him, and in the long, bright summer days and glorious nights, life still seemed to hold possibilities of joy and hope for the little party. They were supplied with the necessaries of life—though they were careful to husband their stores as much as possible; and Claude was able to vary their plain fare by the addition of excellent fish, and an occasional bird—for they were well supplied with fire-arms and ammunition. The hardy, open-air life seemed to agree with the two girls; and all four vied with each other in keeping up a resolute and cheerful courage, avoiding all reference to the terrors the future might hold in store.

In the cove where the sunken brig lay, Claude had made a rude raft, and with the assistance of Marie, whose strong young arms and bright, courageous spirit were invaluable to him, he soon had enough planks and timber transported to the place where they had landed. To get them ashore, and carried to the spot he had selected as being the most sheltered and suitable for his purpose, was no easy matter; but with time, and the united efforts of the whole party, every obstacle was gradually overcome. The building, although a small one, was slow in attaining completion, and for weeks the sound of Claude's hammer and saw disturbed the primeval quiet of the little northern island. The women lent their help in every possible way; and watched with admiration the skilful manner in which Claude provided against every emergency which might befall the little dwelling; none gave a sign of the secret and cherished hope of all their hearts, that they might never need to complete it, or to occupy it when completed.