Jacques Cartier was born at St. Malo, the white buttress of Brittany.
Daring Breton fishing-boats had often sailed as far as the cod-banks
of Newfoundland, and it is not impossible that Cartier himself had
already crossed the Atlantic before he was commissioned by Chabot.
From a child he had lived upon the sea. He was forty years old when
he received his commission, and on the 20th of April, 1634, he set
sail from his native town. Holding a northern course he came at length
to Newfoundland, and having passed through the Straits of Belle Isle
and across the Gulf, he erected a white cross at Gaspe, and sailed on
westward till Anticosti came in sight. It was then August, and as
constant westerly winds delayed his further course, he decided to
return to France. Unfortunately, however, he did not leave until he
had lured on board his ships two young Indians, whom he carried back
as trophies, sowing thereby the seed of future trouble.

His countrymen were deeply stirred by his report. Beyond a doubt the
great Gulf up which he had sailed was the water route to Cathay, and
France could hardly await the arrival of spring before sending another
expedition. By the middle of May, 1635, Cartier was ready to embark on
a second voyage, and on this occasion no less than three ships were
equipped, numbering among their officers men of birth and
quality--gentlemen in search of adventure, others eager to mend broken
fortunes, and all bent on claiming new lands for France and for the
faith. Assembling in the old cathedral they confessed their sins and
heard the Mass; and on the 19th of May the dwellers of St. Malo saw
the sails of the _Hermine_, _La Petite Hermine_, and _Emerillon_ melt
into the misty blue of the horizon. Almost immediately a fierce storm
scattered the ships, and they only came together again six weeks later
in the Straits of Belle Isle. This time Cartier coasted along the
north shore of the Gulf; and to a bay opposite Anticosti he gave the
name of St. Lawrence, upon whose festival day it was discovered. Then
for the first time a white man entered "the great river of Canada."

[Illustration: JACQUES CARTIER]

With the kidnapped Indians for pilots, the three caravels passed by
the canyon of the Saguenay, mysterious in its sombre silence. Presently
the rocky cliff of Cap Tourmente towered above them, and at length
they glided into safe anchorage off the Isle of Bacchus.[2]

To the savage Indians the mighty vessels of Fr