left to hear of your latest exploits,” the uncle murmured.
“I'm sure you'd not be astounded. You who have seen so much…”
All of a sudden, the thirty-year-old sailor saw himself again, a small, unhappy boy in the port of Brouage. Holding back his tears, he watched as a huge ship departed for a season or several years, carrying away the man who was like a father to him. The ship moved slowly, then seemed engulfed in a blustery wind. Would his uncle come back as promised? When?
Today another form of separation awaited.
“You will see marvellous countries, Samuel…”
The captain coughed, visibly weakened, but tried to go on:
“… and I will be at your side, even if no one can detect my presence.”
“You will be in my thoughts, Uncle, at the helm of every ship I ever sail.”
“You speak the truth, and, now that my time has come, it consoles me a little.”
Guillaume Hallène was in fact an important landowner: he left everything he had to Champlain, notably an enormous farm operation near La Rochelle. The domain included vineyards, orchards, fields, and a few houses with their outbuildings. Along with the income from the property came other sums bequeathed to him in the will.
As the uncle had foreseen, the money would give Champlain independence, allowing him to carry out his voyages. And true enough, in Samuel Captain Provençal could thus live on, continuing to roam the planet.
“Others come before you have mistaken pebbles from America for rough diamonds, Monsieur de Champlain.”
The man was alluding ironically to French navigator Jacques Cartier, who, seventy years earlier, had brought back samples of iron and quartz crystal from Canada thinking they were precious stones. His find turned out to be nothing at all, and still was the butt of derision. Today Maximilien de Béthune, the Duke of Sully, was recalling the mishap. He held the strategic position of Superintendent of Finance for King Henri IV. For this rigid minister, colonial development was merely a harebrained craze. He felt such excesses were much more liable to ruin France than to replenish the royal treasury.
The Duke considered nothing to be more profitable than cultivating the land of France. French wheat may not have dazzled as much as diamonds or silver from the colonies, but it had the advantage of making better bread! Champlain, who had requested an audience with the King to tell him that the new lands offered unprecedented potential, wondered how to win over such a closed mind.
Luckily for him, Henri IV did not share the Duke's apprehensions. Besides, he could clearly see that the Spaniards were winning across the board, extending their powers overseas. France was not doing enough on that score.
“Monsieur de Sully, put aside for a moment your overcautious ploughman's instincts,” he said, gently mocking his counsellor. “Instead let us listen to this man back from countries we've seen only in our dreams.”
“Time will tell, if we recover the expenses incurred by these ambitions, Your Majesty” his representative responded stiffly.
“Your wisdom, Monsieur le Duc, must not interfere with the glory of France and its King.”
Turning toward the navigator, Henri indicated his keen interest in his impressions of his recent trip to the West Indies and Mexico.
“I won't rest until I convince you that their storehouses are the most fully stocked in the world,” the traveller declared. “But we must remember that they are in the hands of another country. France has to play a role in this great quest.”
“Where are you contemplating going?”
“To the North Atlantic,” replied Champlain, unhesitating. “Cartier may not have brought back diamonds, but along with other valiant men like himself, he began to open up a passage that we must use: a route leading to Asia, but also toward discovery of areas in the North, beyond the waters where the cod fishermen work. No one has yet come forth to claim them.”
“Claim what, exactly?” Sully asked acrimoniously.
“Whatever is to be found there,” the King enunciated slowly, his patience beginning to fray.
He for one was thinking about the peace treaty signed recently with Spain that granted him proprietary rights in the North Atlantic.
“To begin with, and despite the aversion of my counsellor here,” insisted Henri, “I would like a detailed description of the New Indies and Mexico from where you return so in awe.”
Champlain left the Louvre satisfied. He methodically compiled his notes and illustrations, carefully writing them up and managing to convey both the opulent resources and his sense of wonder at all he'd seen. The document reached the palace shortly after with the title and subtitle Brief Narrative of the Most Remarkable Things that Samuel Champlain of Brouage observed in the West Indies during the voyage which he made to them, in the Years 1599–1601. The report was also glanced at by Aymar de Chaste, governor of Dieppe, who concurrently held a variety of functions and titles at court. In addition, he was highly influential in the commercial areas of fur trade and the merchant navy. This man was won over by the idea of a French establishment in America.
The Brief Narrative quickly had the wished-for effect in the inner circle of decision-makers. Thanks to de Chaste, Champlain was invited to take part as an observer in the next fur-trade expedition headed for the St. Lawrence River. The ship he boarded in Honfleur in March 1603 was called the Bonne Renommée, or “Good Reputation.” For anyone familiar with the ups and downs of marine life, this name had something comforting about it.
Captain François Pont-Gravé, of St. Malo, was the sole master after God aboard the Bonne Renommée. The pleasant-sounding and abundant laughter of the congenial fifty-year-old could be heard often on the trip. He had a fearful temper that would flare up occasionally. He sang loud and clear, called to far-off fishing boats, enjoyed watching the whales play, and joked over nothing. He filled the space aboard his ship with his expansive personality, both kindly and authoritarian. A pleasing combination, Champlain thought. In fact, the two men spontaneously took to each other, recognizing that they were both drawn to the exotic call of the sea and discovery. This emerging friendship would last thirty years and follow the two men throughout their many journeys. Their bond would withstand hardship, colonization, war, fear, discouragement, and sickness. No small feat!
The Bonne Renommée headed straight for Tadoussac, after hugging the Newfoundland coast and leaving Anticosti Island portside as it entered the St. Lawrence River, “the great river of Canada,” as Champlain called it. Pont-Gravé was familiar with this landscape, having already made several fur-trading trips. For Champlain, it was all new, and his journal entries increased in volume.
In the Montagnais language, Tadoussac means “breasts” and evokes the surrounding mountains. Saguenay, meaning “water flowing out,” is the name of the river running alongside it to the west, whose cold foaming waters rushed into the salt river. Tadoussac was a windswept, arid site of sand and rock. Three years earlier, Pierre de Chauvin de Thonnetuit had established a small trading post there, the only one in Canada. The first person to have a monopoly on the fur trade in New France, he had promised to rapidly transport five hundred settlers to begin populating the area. He died shortly thereafter, leaving behind only a few fur traders, or coureurs de bois. But after his brief stay, there remained a small house surrounded by a picket fence, and here the bartering took place. The native people received glass or ceramic beads, tools, knives, axes, copper kettles, and blankets in exchange for magnificent animal furs, including fox, sable, beaver, wolf, and otter.
The Bonne Renommée berthed in Tadoussac on May 26, 1603, a memorable date: that day, Champlain trod upon the earth of New France for the