“I never told you about my early days in Rouen. My father was a printer and had a huge library where I learned all about lost civilizations. In the evening the Huguenot intellectuals of the city would often gather at our house. Hiding at the top of the big stone staircase, I listened to their conversations. The wars of religion were over, but my parents were still suffering from harassment. They were ruined because of their beliefs. They never got over the bankruptcy and died in poverty. I was twenty at the time, and my only thought was to seek revenge and reclaim our honour. So I began counterfeiting money to buy back the family property, but alas, I was caught and sentenced to the galleys.”
Membertou had already heard about the galleys; now he was impatient for information about the next drawing. “I saw a superb animal inside the cave,” Membertou remarked. “Does it exist somewhere?”
“The Ancients called it a unicorn. Legend has it that it was too proud to take refuge in the Great Canoe and so perished in the flood.”
“That’s unfair!” he cried. “Why doesn’t the God of Creation protect his creatures?”
“No one knows God’s plan,” Saint-Jean said, with a hint of bitterness.
After a moment’s silence, he said, “You must have noticed the Indian paintings showing the Vikings and their writing.”
“Yes, and some funny drawings underneath the paintings…”
“They’re called runes. The Vikings write them on small stone disks, which they use to predict the future.”
“What about the ship with the carved figurehead? It looks like the shipwreck at Miscou.”
“It’s called a drakkar. The Vikings stayed for a while… In fact, your mother Angélique has certain features…”
“Are you the one who spread a rumour about evil Gougou to keep people away from this place?”
“Yes.”
“So where does Gougou live?”
“It’s thought she hides out on Ile Miscou, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”
A heavy silence settled to mark the solemnity of the moment, as though they had been enveloped by Gougou’s evil breath.
“My fear is that with the sea eating away at the cape year after year, soon there will be nothing left of the treasure,” confessed old Saint-Jean.
At these words, Membertou gave a start. He’d been so caught up in the story he was hearing, he’d almost forgotten about “his” treasure. “I found a little chest full of precious stones and gold coins…”
“Aren’t you the little gougou! I thought you had missed it. Well, I guess there’s nothing for it but to tell you the whole story. More than twenty years ago, during the high tides of October, the carcass of a burned ship showed up not far from Miscou, on the shores of a small island I called Treasure Island. You remember the story of the cursed ship that the Mi’kmaq set fire to in order to take revenge for the raids… It’s said that a certain Gaspar de Corte Real, from a family of Portuguese navigators, massacred Beothuk Indians in Newfoundland in the year 1500; it didn’t take long for tribe members to repay him in kind. In 1502, his brother Miguel came looking for him and was killed on Ile aux Hérons by a young Mi’kmaq who accused him of seducing his fiancée. Legend has it that the explorer will return one day in a burning ship to take his revenge. You know, there may be a kernel of truth to the legend of the phantom ship… I found the chest in the ship’s hold and brought it to the cave. I’m convinced that one day the treasure will come in handy, if not to ensure our prosperity, at least to barter with the English, who, I’m afraid, will soon be treating us like slaves. The treasure is sacred. We could use it to become rich, but we must touch it only in case of dire need. We must live like ordinary people, otherwise we’ll become possessive and greedy. I was the only one who knew about this place. From now on, you will share my secret with me, my son.”
Saint-Jean refused to say anything more. Proud of the trust being placed in him by his grandfather, Membertou did not ask any more questions.
Chapter 7
That which is called Carraquet is an island in front of which lies a very large bay three leagues deep; there is a river in the interior (Rivière du Sud)… I have visited the bay from both sides of the north coast (Maisonnette and Anse Bleue)… Next is Chipagan, which is nothing but a large recess that goes from one sea to the other by way of breaks that form islands; only small ships can pass by rounding a point, rowboats go through a small pass (between Ile de Pokesudie and terra firma) to enter the bay called Chipagan; it forms another island that comes to a point that runs alongside the bay deep into the sea; this is called Miscou Point…
– Excerpted from the document on the
Chaleurs Abbey south of the St. Lawrence River.
Written in Louisbourg on the 19th day of August 1724
by Sieur L’Hermmitte, king’s engineer
…a very tall rock, high on both sides…
– Champlain, within sight of Percé Rock
In late September, the Phantom Ship was ready to travel to Quebec. Angélique brought down jars of pumpkin jam in a small crate. Jean-Baptiste loaded the hold with dried cod. Joseph piled up crates of oysters that had been gathered on the Pointe-de-Roche sand bar.
Angélique took advantage of a small break from the task at hand to open a few oysters, which she ate with Joseph. “They’re an aphrodisiac,” she said softly. Joseph didn’t need to be told twice, and her words were borne out…
When the sun was at its highest point, the ship skimmed past Miscou and its Breton, Basque, and Norman fishermen’s huts. Across the way, on Ile Chipagan, traces could still be seen of Nicolas Denys’ installations from the time the king had bestowed on him, by letter patent bearing a great green wax seal, the title of lieutenant-general and governor of coastal Acadia, and had entrusted him with setting up trading posts for fish and furs, the two income sources which motivated France to look after its colonies. Denys had criss-crossed the huge territory for close to fifty years, at a time when France’s dreams for the continent were equal to its size.
“Denys was an important man,” Joseph began thoughtfully.
“Who’s that?” Membertou asked.
“He came over with the founders, Razilly and D’Aulnay. In your grandfather’s library, you may have noticed the two books Denys wrote, both vigorous pleas for the development of our country. For more than fifty years, he fought in the king’s interest; he even went to Versailles and offered the king the finest silver fox furs. To little avail, however.”
Joseph’s comment sparked Membertou’s imagination. He had never understood why the French left their distant and wonderful country for Canada’s snow and fog.
* * *
On the second evening, the Phantom Ship dropped anchor not far from Percé Rock. At dawn, Membertou began rowing his dory toward this marvel of nature, which stood like a sphinx pierced with two huge holes carved out by the sea. At high tide, small boats could pass through it, which Membertou did. Afterwards, at the risk of breaking his neck,
