e had even been to Brazil, for in the account
of his first recorded voyage he makes a comparison between the maize of
Canada and that of South America; and in those days this would scarcely
have occurred to a writer who had not seen both plants of which he
spoke. 'There groweth likewise,' so runs the quaint translation that
appears in Hakluyt's 'Voyages,' 'a kind of Millet as big as peason
[i.e. peas] like unto that which groweth in Bresil.' And later on, in
the account of his second voyage, he repeats the reference to Brazil;
then 'goodly and large fields' which he saw on the present site of
Montreal recall to him the millet fields of Brazil. It is possible,
indeed, that not only had he been in Brazil, but that he had carried a
native of that country to France. In a baptismal register of St Malo is
recorded the christening, in 1528, of a certain 'Catherine of Brezil,'
to whom Cartier's wife stood godmother. We may, in fancy at least,
suppose that this forlorn little savage with the regal title was a
little girl whom the navigator, after the fashion of his day, had
brought home as living evidence of the existence of the strange lands
that he had seen.

Out of this background, then, of uncertainty and conjecture emerges, in
1534, Jacques Cartier, a master-pilot in the prime of life, now sworn
to the service of His Most Christian Majesty Francis I of France, and
about to undertake on behalf of his illustrious master a voyage to the
New Land.

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST VOYAGE--NEWFOUNDLAND AND LABRADOR

It was on April 20, 1534, that Jacques Cartier sailed out of the port
of St Malo on his first voyage in the service of Francis I. Before
leaving their anchorage the commander, the sailing-masters, and the men
took an oath, administered by Charles de Mouy, vice-admiral of France,
that they would behave themselves truly and faithfully in the service
of the Most Christian King. The company were borne in two ships, each
of about sixty tons burden, and numbered in all sixty-one souls.

The passage across the ocean was pleasant. Fair winds, blowing fresh
and strong from the east, carried the clumsy caravels westward on the
foaming crests of the Atlantic surges. Within twenty days of their
departure the icebound shores of Newfoundland rose before their eyes.
Straight in front of them was Cape Bonavista, the 'Cape of Happy
Vision,' already known and named by the fishermen-explorers, who had
welcomed the sight of its projectin