the rancour he felt about this child taking his place. On the other hand, when Joseph lost his patience and scolded Geneviève, Membertou sprang into action. His tantrums were something to behold. He yelled and broke everything he could get his hands on. His rage exploded when he was punished (by Joseph, who did not always abide by Mi’kmaq customs) for hurting Geneviève or for egging her on when she was up to no good or using bad words. The sounds of the nearby waves rocked him, as though in celebration of a moment of closeness with his new family. Suddenly, a light above his head drew his gaze. In a crack in the grotto, a small polished metal chest lay on a dark blue rock. Intrigued, he drew nearer. He examined it. Opened it. A fountain of colours sprang out at him: the yellow, blue, red, and violet of gold and precious stones. What fascinated him above all was a gold cross with rubies on the ends. This must be the paradise described by the shaman and the missionary, he thought.
All the beauty had made him forget about evil Gougou. I cant wait for Grandfather to explain all these enigmas to me.
He closed the chest, left the cave, and walked out onto the beach. The sun was slowly rising above Miscou point. That was where he found Saint-Jean, who knew what had happened as soon as he saw Membertou on the beach.
“Where were you?” he shouted as Membertou emerged from the tall grass.
“Grandfather, I found a heavenly spot over there, in a cave,” Membertou said, still under the spell of the special place.
It took Saint-Jean a minute to regain his composure and think of something to say. “I thought I told you not to wander over there. Now you must swear not to tell a soul.”
“Fine, but tell me about what I saw in the cave.”
“Not so fast… Sit down and listen. A long time ago, the Mi’kmaq discovered this site, and the cave paintings tell their story. They also painted the story of the creation of the world according to their beliefs. The legends are the same legends as the Catholics, with a Garden of Eden, the flood…”
“What was the flood?”
“Some say it was God s punishment for mans evil ways. Others say that, in ancient times, a moon fell to earth and provoked the catastrophe. The moon fell on a continent that had a flourishing civilization before it was submerged. It was called Atlantis. Its inhabitants had to flee from the earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Several ended up in Persia and others in Egypt, where they built the great pyramids. The flood also covered the lowlands of Canada.”
“Where did you learn all this?”
“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