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

by Thomas Guthrie Marquis

  CHAPTER X

  For a time it seemed as if Claude were indeed dead. The women chafed hiscold hands, and did all that Bastienne's skill could suggest; but theirefforts seemed unavailing, and they had almost abandoned hope, whenMarie, searching among the stores, found a case of brandy, and hastenedto moisten his lips with the liquor. Soon, to their great joy, the bloodbegan to come back to his cheek, and they could feel his heart beat. Atlast he opened his eyes like one in a dream, and met those of Margueritebending over him. The nightmare he had just passed through came back tohim--the fearful struggle to reach the shore, the sound of the water inhis ears, like the ringing of innumerable bells, the feeling of despairthat had come over him as he felt himself sinking. Full consciousnessreturned to him at the sound of Marguerite's voice exclaiming:

  "He lives! O Mary be praised, we are saved!"

  Saved indeed, but for what? An island prison in an unfrequented ocean,where years might pass before a ship hove in sight. Night was fastdrawing in, and they were shelterless, in a dreary, unknown waste,exposed to they knew not what dangers. They were three helpless women,two of them tenderly nurtured and wholly unused to want or privation;and De Pontbriand was in no condition to be of any assistance. Theirposition seemed indeed desperate, and Claude cursed the bitter fatewhich had made him the cause of bringing such misfortune on his beloved.

  But old Bastienne came once more to the rescue. Her stolid, peasantendurance and ready Picard wit stood the whole party in good stead. Shefound a flint and steel--for De Roberval had provided for allnecessities--and with the aid of the two girls she collected brushwoodand dry branches enough to make a huge fire, the smoke of which, risinghigh into the air, was visible on the horizon from the departing ship.The sailors fell on their knees in terror at the sight, believing itanother proof that the demons were consuming their victims withunquenchable flames.

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

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

  The short June night soon gave place to the ghostly, grey twilightbefore the dawn; and at last the welcome streaks of colour in the eastproclaimed to the weary watchers that daylight was again at hand. Theirfirst night in their island home was over.

  The morning broke fair and cloudless, and the little colony of four setabout surveying their situation, and exploring their new domain. Theyfound it a wilderness indeed--barren, rocky, almost devoid ofvegetation, save for the coarse bracken and juniper bushes which grew inpatches, 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 bediscovered: and the only animals they met with were hares in abundance,and foxes, both red and black, which scampered away in terror at theirapproach, and surveyed them from a distance with bright, timid eyes.Sea-birds in great numbers hovered about the cliffs on the shore, andwhat most aroused their astonishment and interest, were the solemn,ungainly auks, which had their abodes along the beach. These uncouth andhelpless-looking birds, disturbed in their occupation of fishing amongthe rocky shallows, waddled off in alarm at the approach of theintruders, who were irresistibly moved to laughter at their clumsymovements. No doubt these strange creatures had in part given rise tomany a weird tale of the demon inhabitants of the island.

  De Pontbriand, whose strength was wonderfully recruited by the long restand Bastienne's skilful treatment, set about preparing some kind ofshelter for the women before another night should descend upon them. Hissoldiering experiences, and still more his adventures in the wilds ofCanada, came to his aid, and he was not long in constructing a sort ofrude wigwam, such as he had seen the Indians build wherever they pitchedtheir camps. Fragrant pine boughs made a luxurious couch, and theexhausted girls were glad to throw themselves down and sleep, whileClaude kept watch by the fire outside. On the next day, and the twofollowing ones, he employed himself in thatching the primitive dwellingwith birch bark and whatever materials he could find which would shedthe rain from its sloping sides. For himself, he found a shelteredhollow among the rocks, where neither wind nor rain could affect himgreatly, and their stores he disposed among the many similar rockycaverns with which the island abounded.

  His preparations were finished none too soon. The clouds which had beenhovering about for several days, finally gathered together oneafternoon, and rolled in heavy, thunderous masses up out of the southernsky. The air grew dark and sultry, lightning flashed from the depths ofthe purple cloud-bank; soon the thunder crashed overhead, and the waveslashed themselves in fury against the shore. The storm was upon them inall its might. It was not of long duration, but was followed by a gooddeal of rain during the night, and the next morning there was a furiousgale blowing. The waves rose to such a height that the spray from theircrests was dashed over the frail shelter Claude had erected; and he sawthat something more permanent and durable must be contrived. Summerwould pass, and winter might swoop down upon them out of the desolatenorth before there was any chance of their being rescued. A dwellingwhich would be a protection from cold and snow and the biting blasts ofa Canadian winter, must be erected. But how? And with what materials?Tools he had in plenty, but how to construct a dwelling out of thestunted and wind-twisted trees, which were all the timber the islandafforded, was a conundrum he saw no prospect of solving.

  As it happened, however, fortune favoured him. The very next day, as hewandered along a high, rocky part of the shore, he saw in the shallowwater at his feet what seemed to be the hull of a vessel. Making his waydown 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 whichLaurent, the fisherman, had seen disappear beneath the waves. Thetimbers had been of good oak, and the waves, breaking them asunder asthey rolled in from the mighty expanse outside, had washed many of themhigh and dry on the shore. There was abundance for a hut, and withthese, and the help of what trees he could avail himself of, he hadhopes of being able to build a more substantial habitation before thecold 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 holdpossibilities of joy and hope for the little party. They were suppliedwith the necessaries of life--though they were careful to husband theirstores as much as possible; and Claude was able to vary their plain fareby the addition of excellent fish, and an occasional bird--for they werewell supplied with fire-arms and ammunition. The hardy, open-air lifeseemed to agree with the two girls; and all four vied with each other inkeeping up a resolute and cheerful courage, avoiding all reference tothe terrors the future might hold in store.

  In the cove where the sunken brig lay, Claude had made a rude raft, andwith the assistance of Marie, whose strong young arms and bright,courageous spirit were invaluable to him, he soon had enough planks andtimber transported to the place where they had landed. To get themashore, and carried to the spot he had selected as being the mostsheltered and suitable for his purpose, was no easy matter; but withtime, and the united efforts of the whole party, every obstacle wasgradually overcome. The building, although a small one, was slow inatta
ining completion, and for weeks the sound of Claude's hammer and sawdisturbed the primeval quiet of the little northern island. The womenlent their help in every possible way; and watched with admiration theskilful manner in which Claude provided against every emergency whichmight befall the little dwelling; none gave a sign of the secret andcherished hope of all their hearts, that they might never need tocomplete it, or to occupy it when completed.

  Thus July and August passed; and towards the end of the latter month the"castle," as Marie had gaily designated it, was at last finished. Theytransferred themselves and their belongings to its shelter, and, as ithappened, only just in time. The weather, as usual about that time ofyear, suddenly changed, and a fierce gale swept across the island. Forthree days the rain fell in torrents, and the mad waves rolled higherand higher up the beach, till the spot where their summer shelter hadstood was completely covered. The nights, too, became cold and dreary;and the dismal shrieking of the wind through the trees, and the hoarsebellowing of the sea among the crags and caves, had a terrifying effectthat made it hard for even the brave spirits of these high-bornFrenchwomen to preserve their calm and hopeful bearing.

  With the shortening days and autumn winds a sadness crept over thelittle colony, and would not be shaken off. Its influence was, perhaps,most felt by Marie, though her bright vivaciousness never failed herwhen the others were present. The lovers could not be wholly unhappywhile they had each other. Their future was full of uncertainty, and thepresent of difficulties and dangers, but at least they were together,and separation had been the bitterest of their trials. With Marie it wasnecessarily otherwise. She could not but feel herself alone, in a sensewhich was unknown to the other two; and it became her habit, in themellow September days, to wander by herself along the shore, oftensitting for hours, her hands clasped on her knees, gazing in vain at thedistant, empty horizon. She had one companion--a young fox which Claudehad caught and tamed for her. The little animal had grown devotedlyattached to her, and as it grew older it became her constant attendantin all her rambles. Marguerite could not fail to notice the longabsences of her friend, and often went in search of her, and brought herback to join Claude and herself in whatever they might be doing; butMarie was always gay and cheerful with her, and no suspicion of themelancholy that was gradually creeping over her was awakened inMarguerite's heart.

  It was upon old Bastienne that the change in the climate began to tellmost plainly. The faithful old woman had borne uncomplainingly thehardships which her young mistresses could endure without a murmur; buther old bones had suffered from the exposure to the night dews and dampsea air; with the chill winds of the Autumn she was attacked withrheumatism, and lost the activity and energy which had been of such goodservice to them all. She suffered much; her moans often kept the twogirls awake at night; and even Claude, who had built himself a tinylean-to on the sheltered side of the "castle," could hear hercomplainings.

  With the first frost of October the leaves took on their short-livedautumn gorgeousness, only to wither and fall, leaving the little islanddestitute of even its scanty appearance of vegetation. Winter, with itsdesolating breath, was settling down upon them; and when the first earlysnows came floating through the air, they realised that long drearymonths of suffering lay before them.

  But one of them, at least, was to be spared the terrible ordeal.

  On a calm, mild day, when the soft, blue haze of October filled the airwith its deceptive beauty, Marie had gone to one of her favourite hauntsalong the cliffs--a lofty point of rock, which they had laughinglychristened her "look-out." As she sat there, gazing down at the misty,sleeping sea below, her eye caught the gleam of a cluster oflate-blooming wild flowers, the last of the season, on a point of therock beneath her. A fancy seized her to get it for Marguerite. Shereached over, and had it almost in her hand, when a slight movementbehind her caused her to start a little, lose her balance, and fallheadlong over the beetling cliff. She fell upon the stones below, andlay motionless, while the little fox, whose rustling approach among thedry leaves had caused her hurried movement, stood on the edge above,peering down with astonished curiosity at the silent figure of his merryplaymate. The auks and puffins, scared from their rocky perches, plungedinto the ocean, and rose at a little distance to look for the reason ofthe disturbance. Seeing no further cause for alarm they gained courageand gradually returned, and their quaint, ungainly forms stood inwondering groups about the motionless girl, who lay with one armstretched in the cold water of the bay.

  In the meantime her friends were awaiting Marie's return for the mid-daymeal. But she came not; and they finally went in search of her, callingher name along the shore, but receiving no answer save the wild cry ofthe gull as it circled above them, and the weird laugh of the greatdiver calling to his answering mate. They knew her favourite point ofrock, and on reaching it found the little fox still standing on theedge, and looking down. As they approached, it bounded suddenly off, anddisappeared among the bushes.

  His heart sinking with a vague dread of fresh misfortune, Claude went tothe edge of the cliff, and looked over. He saw at once what hadhappened. The stones at the top were loose and freshly disturbed, andthe low shrubs which fringed the rock were crushed and broken. Hastilydrawing Marguerite back, and bidding her return at once to the hut andwarn Bastienne to get restoratives and blankets in readiness, he hurriedround to the base of the cliff. The tide was rapidly rising, and thedistance was considerable. With all his haste he was only just in time.As he rounded the projecting spur that formed one side of the bay, thewater, which had at first covered only one of Marie's arms, reached herhair, and in a few minutes more must have risen over her face. DePontbriand drew the bruised and senseless form higher up the rocks, andeagerly felt her heart. There was a faint, slow beating that told him afeeble life still fluttered there. Raising her in his arms he bore herwith all possible speed to the hut, where every means that theirresources and skill could suggest to restore her to consciousness wastried, and, as it seemed, in vain. At last, as the short Octoberafternoon faded out in a purple haze, and the sad, grey evening closedabout them, Marie opened her eyes. She was quite conscious, and seemedto suffer no pain. But the end was evidently close at hand. She spokebut little, and lay very quietly, with Marguerite's hand in hers. Justbefore it grew too dark for them to see her, she beckoned to Claude toapproach, and as he stood beside her couch, she laid Marguerite's handin his, smiled peacefully as she felt the strong grasp close above it,and, closing her eyes, with head turned a little aside, she passed awayso tranquilly that they could not have told when her last breath wasdrawn.

  When they realised that she was indeed dead, their grief had no words.Old Bastienne, at the foot of the couch, recited the prayers for thedead in a voice choked with sobs, and with the tears streaming down herwrinkled cheeks; but Marguerite knelt in silence, dry-eyed, beside thebody of her friend, gazing into the quiet, calm face. At last Clauderaised her, and, tenderly wrapping a cloak round her, led her from thehut, and down to the beach. They stood in silence, trembling in eachother's arms, their hearts too full for speech or tears, while the chillOctober wind whistled in from the sea, and the gulls and curlews flewscreaming about their heads.