Three Centuries of Canadian Story: From John Cabot to John Franklin

Preface

T the beginning of the present century thousands of people in Canada, many of them well educated

^ in most respects, were wont to declare that our country had no interesting history, but only a mass of dry military and political annals. Within the short space of thirty years that false view has almost vanished. He would be a bold and ignorant person who would to-day give expression to opinions so recently wide-spread. The last vestige, it is hoped, of the discredited practice of belittling the story of Canada was swept away by the universal enthusiasm which marked the street pageants of July 1st, 1927, thronged, as they were, with the representations of historical and romantic figures, from the times of Jacques Cartier to the modern era of Confederation. In full chorus, without any discordant notes, the nation now exclaims : ‘‘What a remarkable history Canada has !”

The present volume has been written with a view to aid in satisfying the public demand for stories of men and women, both French and British, whose names are inscribed on the bead-roll of fame. These seventy tales begin with the adventures of an English¬ man, the mariner of Bristol, and end with those of another Englishman, the mariner of Lincoln. Between Cabot and Franklin a long line of heroes and heroines, mainly French, contribute stories of stirring events and struggles as thrilling as any chapters of fiction.

To acknowledge the sources whence these tales have been drawn would require a list of more than a hundred volumes, some now out of print, and others not accessible to the general reader. In the multitude of authorities and documents consulted three great works must receive particular mention, — the Publi¬ cations of the Champlain Society, Kingsford’s “History

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PREFACE of Canada,” and the rich chronicles of Francis Parkman. Without these treasuries of fact and legend no writer could hope to deal adequately with the history and romance of early Canada.

It is needless to say that these stories, with a few exceptions, are not to be found in any school-books. They belong mostly to the by-ways and interspaces of history, but they are not for that reason to be neglected, if the whole scheme of our origins and of our national progress is to be thoroughly understood. The narratives in this book are, it is believed, no insignificant portion of the warp and woof of our nation’s history, lending tone and colour to the more sober and enduring strands of the main web.

J. E. W.

Toronto, November 30th, 1928.

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

I The Mariner of Bristol . 1

II Cartier’s Cross . 5

CHAPTER I The Mariner of Bristol

WHO discovered America? We now know that it was not Columbus. Five hundred years before the time of Columbus sailors from Nor¬ way, coming by way of Iceland and Greenland, reached the shores of Labrador and Nova Scotia. Not once or twice, but many times, did Norsemen voyage to the New World in those early days. The mainland of South America was visited by Columbus in 1498, and the mainland of North America in 1502. So next after the Norsemen of the tenth century it was John Cabot, sailing from England, who first saw the shores of North America. Columbus deserves great credit for his wonderful discoveries, but his ships entered no harbour of the new continent until six years after he sighted that small island in the Bahamas, now known as Watling Island.

Like Columbus, John Cabot was born in the Italian city of Genoa, his real name being Caboto. While still a young lad he went to live in Venice. From the far east to that city in those marvellous years came fleets laden with spices and silks and gems. Soon young Cabot, keen to explore, found his way to eastern lands. In Arabia he met many drivers of caravans who told him that still farther east were regions rich beyond their powers to describe. Like most of the travellers of the day, he knew that the earth was round, and he began to dream that he might reach Zipangu (Japan) by sailing west from Europe. Returning to

Venice, he made his way to England, where he had heard that great ships were being built. In Bristol, the most important harbour of England, next to Lon¬ don, he lived for a time, making his plans and discus¬ sing them with the rich ship-builders there.

In 1491 John Cabot sailed into the West to visit some islands which the maps of that period placed in the ocean some hundreds of miles west of Ireland. These islands he could not find. In 1492 he tried a second time, but again he failed and cursed the mapmakers for their errors. Early in 1493 the news of Columbus’ first adventure came to Bristol. That shrewd monarch, Henry VII, was not slow in enlisting the services of the Bristol adventurer. He at once issued orders to Cabot “to seek out, discover, and find, whatsoever isles, countries, regions, or provinces, of the heathen and infidels, in what part of the world soever they be, which before this time have been un¬ known to all Christians.”

On May 2nd, 1497, John Cabot sailed forth from Bristol harbour in a little ship named the Mathew, with a crew of eighteen. He rounded the south coast of Ireland and then sped, first north-west, and then directly west. After a month he began to wonder whether he would ever reach Zipangu or any other island. Three weeks more passed — weeks of danger and increasing anxiety. Even the stout heart of Cabot began to falter; but on the bright morning of June 24th, 1497, one of the crew on watch cried out, “Land a-hoy!” Within an hour the flag of England was fluttering to the breeze upon a pole planted in the virgin soil.

The exact spot of landing will never be known, for Cabot kept no records. We do know that he sailed north from the coast he had discovered, named a certain cape, St. George’s Cape, a group of three small islands. Trinity islands, and then another cape, England’s Cape. These are probably Cape Ray (south-west of Newfoundland), the islands of St. Pierre,

THE MARINER OF BRISTOL

Miquelon, and Langley, and Cape Race (south-east of Newfoundland). If this identification is correct, the land he had discovered was the northern extremity of Cape Breton. He saw no people in that new region, but the hunting snares on the beach and the newly made notches in the trees told him that there were men not far away.

Cabot thought he had reached the shores of Asia, perhaps the storied islands of Zipangu, with its gold and silk and gems and spices. The country seemed fertile and fruitful, but the voyagers had to return to England almost empty-handed. On August 6th, they were welcomed back home after an absence of only three months.

King Henry sent at once for the great sailor and heard his story. He gave him ten pounds in gold, equal to about $1,000 of our money, and he granted him a pension of twenty pounds a year for life. The discoverer of the new continent was now praised and flattered by everyone, so that he became very vain. He bought for himself a beautiful doublet of rich silk; he styled himself “The Admiral”; and he began to make promises to his friends of land and posts of influence in the New World.

Next year, accompanied by his son Sebastian (who probably was with him the year before), he set out on a second voyage to the West. This time he had two large ships and a crew of about 300 men. In due course he landed on the shores of Labrador and then coasted down past Newfoundland as far south as Chesapeake Bay. In more than one place he saw redmen and traded with them; but they had no spices or silks or gems, only a few furs of little value.

Cabot sailed far enough south to realize that he had not reached Asia — that, indeed, a vast continent stood between him and the riches of the Orient. His supplies were running low and the summer was passing; so with heavy heart he reluctantly turned his prows towards home. His reception in Bristol was chilly as compared with the warmth of the greetings of the former year.

John Cabot died in 1499 or 1500, a broken-hearted man. He thought his career a failure, but all the world now knows that it was a glorious success. The riches of the East were not to be his, but he had discovered a land which one day was to become greater and richer than his wildest dreams.

CHAPTER II Cartier’s Cross

ONE day in late July, 1534, strange things hap¬ pened on the very eastern tip of Canada, in that part of the Province of Quebec now called Gaspe. The great explorer, Jacques Cartier, had landed there some days earlier, driven into a natural harbour by bad weather. On his way to shelter he had passed about forty boats filled with savages, who were fishing with nets for mackerel. On the boats he counted more than two hundred men, women, and children. He invited a few of them to come on board his ship, and he gave them knives, glass beads, combs, and other trinkets, with which they were greatly pleased. When they returned to their boats, they showed their joy by raising their hands towards the sky and by singing and dancing.

Before leaving these savages and setting sail up the Gulf, he made a great cross, thirty feet high, and planted it at the entrance of the sheltering bay. To the cross he fastened a wooden shield, with three fleurs-de-lys carved upon it, for that was the royal em¬ blem of his country. Above in large letters were cut in the wood the words: “Vive Le Roy de France,” (Long Live the King of France).

The savages closely watched the making and the raising of the cross. When they saw all the Frenchmen kneel before it with clasped hands, and then make signs to them that it pointed towards Heaven, they wondered all the more and looked at one another, and then at the cross, puzzled to know what it all might mean.

When Cartier and his men returned to their ships, the chief of the savages, clad in the skin of a black bear, hurried to them in a boat. Pointing to the cross on the shore, he made a long speech. Then he waved his bare brown arms about in every direction, as much as to say that the land was all his own and that the French had no right to set up a cross in his country. When his boat approached close to the French ships, several of Cartier's men, leaping down and seizing him, carried him up to their captain. Cartier ordered his men to give the savage chief food and drink and to treat him well. The old chief became more friendly

CARTIER’S CROSS when he had been told by signs that the cross was put up as a mark to aid the French in finding the har¬ bour if they should return. Two of the chief’s sons were in the little boat below and Cartier sent for them and brought them aboard. He begged the old man to allow his sons to go away on the French ships for a time, promising that they would be brought back one day, safe and sound. The chief consented and Cartier dressed the boys in fine raiment — gay shirts, coloured blouses, red caps — hanging bright brass chains about the necks of both. The father and the sons were wonderfully pleased. Cartier then gave a beautiful mitten and some knives to the old chief and sent him back to his people on the shore.

When the savages heard the news about the chief’s sons going away, they sent six boat-loads of their men to say good-bye to the boys and to make them a parting gift of fresh mackerel. They said many things that none of the Frenchmen could understand, but they made it quite clear by signs that the great cross would suffer no harm at their hands.

Chapter III

How THE Lord of Canada Gave Away Three Children.

DONNACONA, the Lord of Canada, that is, of all the country near Quebec, tried hard to keep Jacques Cartier from going up the Great River of Canada. He wanted to keep Jacques Cartier as his own special friend, and he was afraid that he would become the friend of the Indians at Hochelaga, which was the name of an Indian settlement near where Montreal now is.

To keep Cartier from going on he offered to him a strange bribe. He brought a little girl, ten years old, his sister’s child, and he gave her as a present to Cartier on condition that he would not sail farther up the river. The whole tribe gave three great howls as a sign of joy and friendship. Then he presented Cartier with two little boys, younger than the girl. The whole tribe again yelled in approval.

Jacques Cartier told them that he was not willing to accept the three children if they were given in order to persuade him to sail no farther. He had, he said, been ordered by the King of France to go up the river as far as he could, and he intended to obey the King. Then Donnacona declared that he had given him the children as a mark of affection and confidence and he implored him to keep them. Cartier decided to take them on shipboard for a time, and he sent to Don¬ nacona, as gifts in return, two swords, a bowl of brass, and a beautiful hand-basin. Donnacona was greatly pleased and bade his tribe dance and sing.

Donnacona then asked the French captain to fire off a cannon, for he had heard of these big guns from the two Indians that Cartier had brought with him. Cartier then ordered a dozen of his smaller cannon to be loaded with ball and to be fired through the woods

GAVE AWAY THREE CHILDREN that ran down to the shore. The savage tribe was greatly astonished at the terrible noise and at the crashing of the trees behind them. They thought that the very heavens had fallen upon them, and they yelled and screeched like demons.

CHAPTER IV Donnacona’s Three Devils

DONNACONA was so determined to keep Jacques Cartier from going farther west that he invented this queer trick:

Three Indians were dressed like devils, clad in dog¬ skins of black and white. They had horns the length of a man’s arm and their faces were painted as black as coal. The three, thus fitted up, were secretly sent by Donnacona a few miles up the river, with instructions to come back with the tide.

Donnacona then came with all his tribe and hid among the bushes on the shore near to the French captain’s ships. In about two hours the Indians came out of their hiding-place and took up their position by the river as near as they could get to the ships. They now, as well as Cartier’s men, saw coming down with the tide the canoe which contained the three devils. As the canoe drifted past the French ships, the man in the middle of the canoe made a noisy speech in a strange language. Then the three ran their canoe aground on the shore. Donnacona and his men quickly seized the devils and their canoe and dragged them into the forest. Cartier heard much loud talking among the trees for the space of half an hour and he wondered what mischief was up.

After a while Cartier’s two Indians, who had been allowed to go on shore, came forward with clasped hands, their hats under their arms. They made odd gestures and mumbled strange words. Cartier asked them what was the matter and what news they had. They said the news was very bad indeed. They re¬ ported that the three devils in the canoe had been sent by a big devil all the way from Hochelaga to warn everybody that the ice and snow in Hochelaga were so deep that no man could live there. Cartier told his

DONNACONA’S THREE DEVILS two Indians that he was not such a fool as to believe their story, and he ordered them to go right back and tell Donnacona that the tale of the Devils was a pack of lies. It was only the 18th of September and no time to frighten the French with the dangers of snow and ice.

Then Donnacona kept Cartier’s two Indians in his camp and refused to let them go on the ship, again, for he was bent on doing everything in his power to prevent Cartier from going to his enemies at Hochelaga.

CHAPTER V When Cartier Came to Montreal

This is the story, as told by an early French writer,* of Jacques Cartier’s arrival at Hochelaga on October 2nd, 1535:

When we arrived at Hochelaga there came out to meet us more than a thousand persons, men, women, and children, who welcomed us warmly as ever father did child, showing very great joy. They all danced wildly, the men in one group, the women in another, and the children in a third.

They brought us a great quantity of fish and some bread made of large grains. Thousands of these grains they threw into our boats till it seemed like a shower from heaven.

Captain Jacques Cartier then went ashore with many of his men. As soon as he had landed, the natives all clustered around him with great rejoicing. The women brought their children in their arms that the French might touch them. Their welcome lasted for half an hour. Our captain (Jacques Cartier) made all the women sit down in rows and he gave them little gifts. To the men he gave bright new knives. Then he returned with his escort to his boats to sup and pass the night. The natives remained on the river bank all night, as near our boats as pos¬ sible, keeping their fires burning and dancing from time to time. They continued to cry out to us greet¬ ings of joy.

Early next morning our captain put on his armour and took a few noblemen and twenty sailors with him to visit the town of the natives, the rest being left to guard the boats. On landing we found the path to the town well beaten as could be, through a fair country like a park. The oaks were as fine as in any

^ Marc Lescarbot, in his History of New France.

WHEN CARTIER CAME TO MONTREAL

Cartier at Hochelaga forest of France, and the whole ground beneath them was thick with acorns. When we had gone some dis¬ tance, we came upon one of the lords of the town with a large company of natives. They made a sign for us to rest there beside a fire which they had lighted in the roadway. This lord began to make a speech to us, welcoming us all. Our captain then gave him two hatchets, two knives, a cross and a crucifix, the last of which he made him kiss and which he made him hang around his neck.

About half a league farther on we came upon ploughed fields and fair large meadows full of their kind of corn, as large as a pea or larger, on which they live as we do on wheat. Amid these fields is situated the town of Hochelaga, stretching up to a mountain which hes beside it. This mountain is well cultivated and most fertile. From the top one can see a great distance. This mountain we called Mount Royal.

The town is built in a circle and surrounded by a wooden palisade in three tiers, like a pyramid. It has but one gate or entry, which has bars. On the gate and at several points along the wall are galleries with ladders ascending to them. These galleries are filled with rocks and stones for hurling at any enemy that may come near.

In the town are about fifty houses, each about fifty paces long and twelve to fifteen broad, built of wood, with roofs and sides made of wood or strips of bark cunningly knotted together. Within the houses are several rooms, large and small. In the midst of each house, on the ground, is a large hall, where they light their fire and live in common. At night they retire to their several chambers. At the top of the houses they have garners where they store their grain, which they call caraconi.

They make their bread in the following manner: In a wooden mortar, a vessel like an inverted bell, they beat the corn to powder with wooden mallets. Then they make of this flour a paste, out of which they make cakes and bread. For an oven they heat a stone, placing the paste upon it, and covering the paste with hot pebbles. This corn they also stew. They boil beans and peas also.

In their houses they keep large vats, in which they store their eels and other fish. These fish they smoke in summer for winter use. None of their food has any taste of salt.

The natives sleep on strips of bark laid on the ground, with only skins under and over them. The skins are of many kinds, such as, otter, beaver, marten, fox, wild cat, deer, and others. With these skins they also clothe themselves in the cold winter weather. In

WHEN CARTIER CAME TO MONTREAL summer they have very little clothing, going nearly naked.

When we at last came to the city, a great multitude came out to meet us and welcome us. Their guides led us to the middle of the town, where there is an open square, a stone’s throw in breadth. On a sudden there gathered together all the women and girls of the town, some with babies in their arms. Drawing near, they began to kiss our faces and hands and arms and necks, weeping for joy to see us, and making signs for us to touch the children.

Then the men sent away the women and sat down on the ground in a ring around us, as if about to act a play. In a few minutes several women came back, each carrying a square mat, worked like tapestry, and they spread these on the ground and signed to us to sit down on the mats.

Then ten men came in, carrying the King and Lord of the country, Agouhanna. They set him down on the mats near our captain, Jacques Cartier, making signs to tell us that Agouhanna was their lord. This chief of theirs was about fifty years of age. He was clad like all the others with the exception of a red band, made of hedge-hog skin, which was bound round his head for a crown. We saw that the chief was afflicted with palsy and that his limbs were shrunken. He showed us his arms and legs and begged our captain to touch them and heal them. So Jacques Cartier stroked the old chief’s arms and legs with his hands. Then Agouhanna took the red band from his head and gave it to our captain. Many sick natives were then brought to be healed, some blind, some with only one eye, some lame, some very feeble, and some so old that their eyelids hung down upon their cheeks. All these were brought to our captain to be touched and healed, for they thought a god had come among them.

Our captain, seeing their pitiful state and their faith, recited to them the Gospel of St. John, ‘Tn the beginning was the Word, etc.” Then he made the sign of the cross over the poor sick folk and prayed God to give them knowledge of the Christian faith. Then our captain took a Book of Hours and in a clear voice read to them, word by word, the Passion of our Lord from St. John’s Gospel (Chapters 18, 19). While he was reading, all the natives kept silence, looking up to heaven and making the same gestures as they saw us make. Then our captain put all the men in a row on one side, the women on another, and the child¬ ren on a third. He then gave to the chief men knives and hatchets. To the women he gave beads and other trinkets. Into the square among the eager children he threw some small rings of tin, which they seized with great delight. Then our captain ordered some of his own men to blow trumpets and to play on their musical instruments, whereat the natives were amazed and delighted.

Then we began to take our leave, but the women ran in front of us to block our way, for they had made ready for us a great dinner — broth, fish, beans, bread, and the like. As the food was not to our taste, having no savour of salt, we thanked them and made signs that we had no need of any food.

We were then led by a number of the men and women to the very top of the mountain, which we had before called Mount Royal. When we reached the summit, we could see for more than thirty leagues around. We saw below a goodly district, flat and fer¬ tile, through the midst of which we saw the river flow and also a most furious water-fall (Lachine Rapids) impossible for us to pass. As far as the eye could reach we saw the river extend to the south- west, great and broad.

We then withdrew to our boats, being escorted by a great number of the tribe. When some of our men grew tired with walking, the natives would mount them on their shoulders and carry them for a while. When we reached our boats and set off, the natives, very sad, followed us along the shore till we were far down the river.

CHAPTER VI The Island of the Demons

JUST north of Newfoundland there is a little island, now called Fishot, which had once a very bad name. Sailors from France who passed it on their way to the Grand Banks heard strange noises in the air and around the tops of their masts. The noises were like the din of men’s voices in some crowded market-place. The few Indians who once dwelt there were so tormented by the demons that they had to flee to the mainland. These imps are shown, on an old map of Newfoundland, as having wings, horns, and tails. For a great many years no one dared go near that dreadful island.

A strange thing once occurred in the Isle of Demons. A French nobleman, named Roberval, was sent to Newfoundland by the King with three ships and two hundred colonists, who were to settle there. He had on board a few women and children, among them was his own niece, Marguerite. There was also on board one of the ships a young man who was in love with Marguerite. Roberval was angry when he saw his young niece and the youth together so much, but he could not keep them apart, even when he placed them on separate ships. One day as the three ships were passing the Isle of Demons, Roberval, in anger, put his niece ashore, along with an old nurse who was to be her companion. He gave them four old hand¬ guns and a store of powder to defend themselves in case of attack. Then he sailed away and left them alone in a wild forest amid the wilder demons.

The young man, from another of the ships, saw what was happening, and he leaped into the water and swam ashore, with two hand-guns on his back. The story of the lovers is a very sad one. The demons, it is said, tried hard to frighten them away, uttering loud noises night and day. Then they took the form of savage beasts and at all hours buffeted upon the door of the frail hut, howling with rage as they pounded. The lovers prayed to God for help, and an invisible hand always guarded them. Marguerite was the braver of the two and her stout heart bore up during all these trials.

But troubles now came in terribly quick succession. Her lover fell ill and died. The old Norman nurse, feeble with years and anxiety, soon afterwards passed away. So poor Marguerite was left alone, all human companions gone, and the demons still abroad. Her courage, however, never dropped for an instant. She would often fire a gun to keep the demons away. One day, it is told, three demons in the shape of white bears drew near her hut. She first prayed to Heaven and then with her old guns she killed all three.

Twenty -nine months in all she lived in that bleak island, ever looking toward the sea to catch sight of a passing ship, and ever keeping a fire burning to make a column of smoke. One day some fishermen in a little vessel drew near, expecting to see and hear the demons. What was their surprise on seeing a woman in a strange garb, waving signals from the shore?

So Marguerite was rescued and taken back to France. She told her story to a French writer, and what he wrote down may still be seen in a library of France. The sister of the French King, also named Marguerite, heard the tale, which was spread far and wide, and she put it in a little book which she was then writing. Thus the niece of the great Roberval became as well known as her cruel uncle.