ely released.

This untoward incident, together with a growing scarcity of provisions,
decided the voyagers to turn back. Early in August they reached St.
Croix.

Discouraged as to finding a site on the New England coast, Champlain
and Monts began to look across the Bay of Fundy, at first called Le
Fond de la Baye (the bottom of the bay).

A traveler crossing this water from the west will see a narrow gap in
the bold and rugged outline of the shore. Entering it, he will be
struck with its romantic beauty, and he will note the {111} tide
rushing like a mill-race, for this narrow passage is the outlet of a
considerable inland water. The steamer, passing through, emerges into
a wide, land-locked basin offering an enchanting view. Fourteen miles
northward is Annapolis Harbor, shut in on every side by verdant hills.

This is the veritable Acadia, the beautiful land of Evangeline, and
here was made the first settlement of Frenchmen in North America that
had any degree of permanence.

The explorers had discovered and entered this enchanting basin in the
previous summer. Now its beauty recurred to them, and they determined
to remove thither. In their vessels they transported their stores and
even parts of their buildings across the Bay of Fundy and laid the
foundation of a settlement which they called Port Royal, afterward
renamed by loyal Britons Annapolis, in honor of Queen Anne.

The season proved very severe, and in the spring it was decided to
persevere in the project of planting a colony, if possible, in a warmer
region. For the second time Champlain sailed down the New England
coast.

At Chatham Harbor, as the place is now called, five of the voyagers,
contrary to orders, {112} were spending the night ashore. The word
quickly passed around among the Indians that a number of the palefaces
were in their power. Through the dark hours of the night dusky
warriors gathered at the meeting-place, until they numbered hundreds.
Then they stole silently toward the camp-fire where the unsuspecting
Frenchmen lay sleeping. Suddenly a savage yell aroused them, and
arrows fell in a shower upon them. Two never rose, slain where they
lay. The others fled to their boat, fairly bristling with arrows
sticking in them, according to the quaint picture which Champlain made.

In the meantime, he, with Poutrincourt and eight men, aroused from
their sleep by the horrid cries on the shore, had leaped from their
berths, snatche