 This
is the fifteenth in a continuing series of entries from the Voyages
of Samuel de Champlain, first published in 1613. To view Part I,
click here. For Champlain's
account of the discovery of the lake that bears his name, click
here...
Original
translation from the French by Charles Pomeroy Otis, Ph.D.
Republished by the Prince Society, Boston: 1878.
MEMOIR OF SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN
Volume II
1604-1610
CHAPTER XV.
THE INCLEMENCY OF THE WEATHER NOT PERMITTING US AT THAT TIME TO
CONTINUE OUR DISCOVERIES, WE RESOLVED TO RETURN TO OUR SETTLEMENT.
WHAT HAPPENED TO US UNTIL WE REACHED IT.
After having gone some six or seven
leagues, we sighted an island, which we named La Soupçonneuse, [227]
because in the distance we had several times thought it was not an
island. Then the wind became contrary, which caused us to put back
to the place whence we had set out, where we stayed two or three
days, no savage during this time presenting himself to us.
On the 20th, we set out anew and coasted along to the south-west
nearly twelve leagues, [228] where we passed near a river which is
small and difficult of access in consequence of the shoals and rocks
at its mouth, and which I called after my own name. [229] This coast
is, so far as we saw, low and sandy. The wind again grew contrary
and very strong, which caused us to put out to sea, as we were
unable to advance on one tack or the other; it, however, finally
abated a little and grew favorable. But all we could do was to
return again to Port Fortuné, where the coast, though low, is fine
and good, yet difficult of access, there being no harbors, many
reefs, and shallow water for the distance of nearly two leagues from
land. The most that we found was seven or eight fathoms in some
channels, which, however, continued only a cable's length, when
there were suddenly only two or three fathoms; but one should not
trust the water who has not well examined the depth with the lead in
hand.
Some hours after we had returned to port, a son of Pont Gravé, named
Robert, lost a hand in firing a musket, which burst in several
pieces, but without injuring any one near him.
Seeing now the wind continuing contrary, and being unable to put to
sea, we resolved meanwhile to get possession of some savages of this
place, and, taking them to our settlement, put them to grinding corn
at the hand-mill, as punishment for the deadly assault which they
had committed on five or six of our company. But it was very
difficult to do this when we were armed, since, if we went to them
prepared to fight, they would turn and flee into the woods, where
they were not to be caught. It was necessary, accordingly, to have
recourse to artifice, and this is what we planned: when they should
come to seek friendship with us, to coax them by showing them beads
and other gewgaws, and assure them repeatedly of our good faith;
then to take the shallop well armed, and conduct on shore the most
robust and strong men we had, each one having a chain of beads and a
fathom of match on his arm; [230] and there, while pretending to
smoke with them (each one having an end of his match lighted so as
not to excite suspicion, it being customary to have fire at the end
of a cord in order to light the tobacco), coax them with pleasing
words so as to draw them into the shallop; and, if they should be
unwilling to enter, each one approaching should choose his man, and,
putting the beads about his neck, should at the same time put the
rope on him to draw him by force. But, if they should be too
boisterous, and it should not be possible to succeed, they should be
stabbed, the rope being firmly held; and, if by chance any of them
should get away, there should be men on land to charge upon them
with swords. Meanwhile, the little cannon on our barque were to be
kept ready to fire upon their companions in case they should come to
assist them, under cover of which firearms the shallop could
withdraw in security. The plan above-mentioned was well carried out
as it had been arranged. Some days after these events had
transpired, there came savages by threes and fours to the shore,
making signs to us to go to them. But we saw their main body in
ambuscade under a hillock behind some bushes, and I suppose that
they were only desirous of beguiling us into the shallop in order to
discharge a shower of arrows upon us, and then take to flight.
Nevertheless, Sieur de Poutrincourt did not hesitate to go to them
with ten of us, well equipped and determined to fight them, if
occasion offered. We landed at a place beyond their ambuscade, as we
thought, and where they could not surprise us. There three or four
of us went ashore together with Sieur de Poutrincourt: the others
did not leave the shallop, in order to protect it and be ready for
an emergency. We ascended a knoll and went about the woods to see if
we could not discover more plainly the ambuscade. When they saw us
going so unconcernedly to them, they left and went to other places,
which we could not see, and of the four savages we saw only two, who
went away very slowly. As they withdrew, they made signs to us to
take our shallop to another place, thinking that it was not
favorable for the carrying out of their plan. And, when we also saw
that they had no desire to come to us, we re-embarked and went to
the place they indicated, which was the second ambuscade they had
made, in their endeavor to draw us unarmed to themselves by signs of
friendship. But this we were not permitted to do at that time, yet
we approached very near them without seeing this ambuscade, which we
supposed was not far off. As our shallop approached the shore, they
took to flight, as also those in ambush, after whom we fired some
musket-shots, since we saw that their intention was only to deceive
us by flattery, in which they were disappointed; for we recognized
clearly what their purpose was, which had only mischief in view. We
retired to our barque after having done all we could.
On the same day, Sieur de Poutrincourt resolved to return to our
settlement on account of four or five sick and wounded men, whose
wounds were growing worse through lack of salves, of which our
surgeon, by a great mistake on his part, had brought but a small
provision, to the detriment of the sick and our own discomfort, as
the stench from their wounds was so great, in a little vessel like
our own, that one could scarcely endure it. Moreover, we were afraid
that they would generate disease. Also we had provisions only for
going eight or ten days farther, however much economy might be
practised; and we knew not whether the return would last as long as
the advance, which was nearly two months.
At any rate, our resolution being formed, we withdrew, but with the
satisfaction that God had not left unpunished the misdeeds of these
barbarians. [231] We advanced no farther than to latitude 41° 30',
which was only half a degree farther than Sieur de Monts had gone on
his voyage of discovery. We set out accordingly from this harbor.
[232]
On the next day, we anchored near Mallebarre, where we remained
until the 28th of the month, when we set sail. On that day the air
was very cold, and there was a little snow. We took a direct course
for Norumbegue or Isle Haute. Heading east-north-east, we were two
days at sea without seeing land, being kept back by bad weather. On
the following night, we sighted the islands, which are between
Quinibequy and Norumbegue. [233] The wind was so strong that we were
obliged, to put to sea until daybreak; but we went so far from land,
although we used very little sail, that we could not see it again
until the next day, when we saw Isle Haute, of which we were
abreast.
On the last day of October, between the Island of Monts Déserts and
Cap Corneille, [234] our rudder broke in several pieces, without our
knowing the reason. Each one expressed his opinion about it. On the
following night, with a fresh breeze, we came among a large number
of islands and rocks, whither the wind drove us; and we resolved to
take refuge, if possible, on the first land we should find.
We were for some time at the mercy of the wind and sea, with only
the foresail set. But the worst of it was that the night was dark,
and we did not know where we were going; for our barque could not be
steered at all, although we did all that was possible, holding in
our hands the sheets of the foresail, which sometimes enabled us to
steer it a little. We kept continually sounding, to see if it were
possible to find a bottom for anchoring, and to prepare ourselves
for what might happen. But we found none. Finally, as we were going
faster than we wished, it was recommended to put an oar astern
together with some men, so as to steer to an island which we saw, in
order to shelter ourselves from the wind. Two other oars also were
put over the sides in the after part of the barque, to assist those
who were steering, in order to make the vessel bear up on one tack
and the other. This device served us so well, that we headed where
we wished, and ran in behind the point of the island we had seen,
anchoring in twenty-one fathoms of water until daybreak, when we
proposed to reconnoitre our position and seek for a place to make
another rudder. The wind abated. At daybreak, we found ourselves
near the Isles Rangées, [235] entirely surrounded by breakers, and
we praised God for having preserved us so wonderfully amid so many
perils.
On the 1st of November, we went to a place which we deemed favorable
for beaching our vessel and repairing our helm. On this day, I
landed, and saw some ice two inches thick, it having frozen perhaps
eight or ten days before. I observed also that the temperature of
the place differed very much from that of Mallebarre and Port
Fortuné; for the leaves of the trees were not yet dead, and had not
begun to fall when we set out, while here they had all fallen, and
it was much colder than at Port Fortuné.
On the next day, as we were beaching our barque, a canoe came
containing Etechemin savages, who told the savage Secondon in our
barque that Iouaniscou, with his companions, had killed some other
savages, and carried off some women as prisoners, whom they had
executed near the Island of Monts Déserts.
On the 9th of the month, we set out from near Cap Corneille, and
anchored the same day in the little passage [236] of Sainte Croix
River.
On the morning of the next day, we landed our savage with some
supplies which we gave him. He was well pleased and satisfied at
having made this voyage with us, and took away with him some heads
of the savages that had been killed at Port Fortuné. [237] The same
day we anchored in a very pretty cove [238] on the south of the
Island of Manan.
On the 12th of the month, we made sail; and, when under way, the
shallop, which we were towing astern, struck against our barque so
violently and roughly that it made an opening and stove in her upper
works, and again in the recoil broke the iron fastenings of our
rudder. At first, we thought that the first blow had stove in some
planks in the lower part, which would have sunk us; for the wind was
so high that all we could do was to carry our foresail. But finding
that the damage was slight, and that there was no danger, we managed
with ropes to repair the rudder as well as we could, so as to serve
us to the end of our voyage. This was not until the 14th of
November, when, at the entrance to Port Royal, we came near being
lost on a point; but God delivered us from this danger as well as
from many others to which we had been exposed. [239]
ENDNOTES:
227. _La Soupçonneuse_, the doubtful, Martha's Vineyard. Champlain
and Poutrincourt, in the little French barque, lying low on the
water, creeping along the shore from Chatham to Point Gammon, could
hardly fail to be doubtful whether Martha's Vineyard were an island
or a part of the main land. Lescarbot, speaking of it, says, _et fut
appelée l'Ile Douteuse_.
228. Nearly twelve leagues in a southwesterly direction from their
anchorage at Stage Harbor in Chatham would bring them to Nobska
Point, at the entrance of the Vineyard Sound. This was the limit of
Champlain's explorations towards the south.
229. "Called after my own name." viz. _Rivière de
Champlain_.--_Vide_ map, 1612. This river appears to be a tidal
passage connecting the Vineyard Sound and Buzzard's Bay, having
Nouamesset and Uncatena Islands on the south-west, and Nobska Point,
Wood's Boll, and Long Neck on the north-east. On our Coast Survey
Charts, it is called Hadley River. Its length is nearly two miles,
in a winding course. The mouth of this passage is full of boulders,
and in a receding tide the current is rough and boisterous, and
would answer well to the description in the text, as no other river
does on the coast from Chatham to Wood's Holl. On the small French
barque, elevated but a little above the surface of the water, its
source in Buzzard's Bay could not be discovered, especially if they
passed round Nobska Point, under the lee of which they probably
obtained a view of the "shoals, and rocks" which they saw at the
mouth of the river.
230. _A fathom of match on his arm_. This was a rope, made of the
tow of hemp or flax, loosely twisted, and prepared to retain the
fire, so that, when once lighted, it would burn till the whole was
consumed. It was employed in connection with the match-lock, the arm
then in common use. The wheel-lock followed in order of time, which
was discharged by means of a notched wheel of steel, so arranged
that its friction, when in motion, threw sparks of fire into the pan
that contained the powder. The snaphance was a slight improvement
upon the wheel-lock. The flint-lock followed, now half a century
since superseded by the percussion lock and cap.
231. They did not capture any of the Indians, to be reduced to a
species of slavery, as they intended; but, as will appear further
on, inhumanly butchered several of them, which would seem to have
been an act of revenge rather than of punishment. The intercourse of
the French with the natives of Cape Cod was, on the whole, less
satisfactory than that with the northern tribes along the shores of
Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. With the latter they had no
hostile conflicts whatever, although the Indians were sufficiently
implacable and revengeful towards their enemies. Those inhabiting
the peninsula of Cape Cod, and as far north as Cape Anne, were more
suspicious, and had apparently less clear conceptions of personal
rights, especially the rights of property. Might and right were to
them identical. Whatever they desired, they thought they had a right
to have, if they had the power or wit to obtain it. The French came
in contact with only two of the many subordinate tribes that were in
possession of the peninsula; viz., the Monomoyicks at Chatham, and
the Nausets at Eastham. The conflict in both instances grew out of
an attempt on the part of the natives to commit a petty theft. But
it is quite possible that the invasion of their territory by
strangers, an unpardonable offence among civilized people, may have
created a feeling of hostility that found a partial gratification in
stealing their property; and, had not this occasion offered, the
stifled feeling of hostility may have broken out in some other form.
In general, they were not subsequently unfriendly in their
intercourse with the English. The Nausets were, however, the same
that sent a shower of arrows upon the Pilgrims in 1620, at the place
called by them the "First Encounter," and not more than three miles
from the spot where the same tribe, in 1605, had attacked the
French, and Slain one of De Monts's men. It must, however, be said
that, beside the invasion of their country, the Pilgrims had, some
days before, rifled the granaries of the natives dwelling a few
miles north of the Nausets, and taken away without leave a generous
quantity of their winter's supply of corn; and this may have
inspired them with a desire to be rid of visitors who helped
themselves to their provisions, the fruit of their summer's toil,
their dependence for the winter already upon them, with so little
ceremony and such unscrupulous selfishness; for such it must have
appeared to the Nausets in their savage and unenlightened state. It
is to be regretted that these excellent men, the Pilgrims, did not
more fully comprehend the moral character of their conduct in this
instance. They lost at the outset a golden opportunity for
impressing upon the minds of the natives the great practical
principle enunciated by our Lord, the foundation of all good
neighborhood, [Greek: Panta oun osa an thelaete ina poiosin hymin
hoi anthropoi, houto kai hymeis poieite autois. Matth]. vii
12.--_Vide Bradford's Hist. Plym. Plantation_, pp. 82, 83; _Mourt's
Relation_, London, 1622, Dexter's ed., pp. 21, 22, 30, 31, 55.
232. The latitude of Nobska Point, the most southern limit of their
voyage, is 41° 31', while the latitude of Nauset Harbor, the
southern limit of that of De Monts on the previous year, 1605, is
41° 49'. They consequently advanced but 18', or eighteen nautical
miles, further south than they did the year before. Had they
commenced this year's explorations where those of the preceding
terminated, as Champlain had advised, they might have explored the
whole coast as far as Long Island Sound. _Vide antea_, pp. 109, 110.
233. Between the Kennebec and Penobscot.
234. _Vide antea_, note 177.
235. _Isles Rangées_, the small islands along the coast south-west
of Machias. _Vide_ map of 1612.
236. _Petit passage de la Rivière Saincte Croix_, the southern
strait leading into Eastport Harbor. This anchorage appears to have
been in Quoddy Roads between Quoddy Head and Lubeck.
237. In reporting the stratagem resorted to for decoying the Indians
into the hands of the French at Port Fortuné, Champlain passes over
the details of the bloody encounter, doubtless to spare himself and
the reader the painful record; but its results are here distinctly
stated. Compare _antea_, pp. 132, 133.
238. Sailing from Quoddy Head to Annapolis Bay, they would in their
course pass round the northern point of the Grand Manan; and they
probably anchored in Whale Cove, or perhaps in Long Island Bay, a
little further south. Champlain's map is so oriented that both of
these bays would appear to be on the south of the Grand Manan.
_Vide_ map of 1612.
239. Champlain had now completed his survey south of the Bay of
Fundy. He had traced the shore-line with its sinuosities and its
numberless islands far beyond the two distinguished headlands, Cape
sable and Cape Cod, which respectively mark the entrance to the Gulf
of Maine. The priority of these observations, particularly with
reference to the habits, mode of life, and character of the
aborigines, invests them with an unusual interest and value.
Anterior to the visits of Champlain, the natives on this coast had
come in contact with Europeans but rarely and incidentally,
altogether too little certainly, if we except those residing on the
southern coast of Nova Scotia, to have any modifying effect upon
their manners, customs, or mode of life. What Champlain reports,
therefore, of the Indians, is true of them in their purely savage
state, untouched by any influences of European civilization. This
distinguishes the record, and gives to it a special importance.
This
is the conclusion of Chapter 15 of Voyages
Click
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