Children's Stories in American History Part 6

De Soto did not remain here long, the chief was not friendly, and after a few days' rest the Spaniards crossed the Mississippi and continued their march.

Once they pa.s.sed near an Indian village whose chief came out to meet them. The chief said, as the Spaniards were more powerful and had better arms than the Indians, he believed that their G.o.d was also better than the Indian G.o.d, and he asked them to pray to their G.o.d for rain, as the fields were parched for want of water. De Soto replied that they were all sinners, but that he would pray to G.o.d, the Father of Mercies, to show kindness unto them.

So he ordered the carpenter to cut down a large tree, which was carefully trimmed, and then formed into a gigantic cross; it was so large that they were two days in completing it, and it took one hundred men to raise it and plant it in the ground. It was placed upon a bluff on the western bank of the Mississippi. The morning after the cross was raised the whole Spanish army, and many of the natives, formed a solemn religious procession and walked around it. De Soto and the chief walked side by side, and the natives and soldiers followed after, two by two.

It seemed for the time as if Indian and Spaniard were not only friends, but brothers. The priests chanted hymns and offered prayers, and then the whole procession advanced two by two to the cross, knelt before it, and kissed it. Upon the opposite sh.o.r.e of the Mississippi thousands of Indians were gathered, who were watching the service with the greatest interest; at times they seemed to take part in the exercises; when the priests raised their hands in prayer, they too raised their eyes to heaven, and lifted up their arms as if asking help, and the murmur of their voices floated across the waters of the river, and mingled with the sighing of the wind through the trees, and with the notes of the Christian hymns, and with the words of the Christian prayers; and the blue sky above smiled down alike on the haughty Spaniard and on the simple native, as he kissed the great wonder cross, the symbol of Him to whom all men are the same, and whose love reaches down to all.

After the prayers the people returned to the village in the same order, the priests going before and chanting the Te Deum; and Las Casas, the historian, writing of this, says, "G.o.d, in his mercy, willing to show these heathens that he listeneth to those who call upon him in truth, sent down, in the middle of the ensuing night, a plenteous rain, to the great joy of the Indians."

So the rain fell, and the Indian sowed his seed and gathered harvests of golden grain; and the cross stood there in the shadow of the forest, and the mighty river rolled on before it, and in the years to come, when the memory of the Spaniard had almost faded away, it was still to the red man a sign of the love of the Great Spirit, who had helped them in their need.

De Soto did not stay long among these friendly Indians, but pressed on his way. There were again toilsome marches and weary hours of disappointment, and, at last, the brave heart of the leader grew sad and hopeless. The climate was unhealthful, and De Soto was taken sick with fever, and at the same time he was told that the chief of that country was getting ready for a great battle, in which all the neighboring tribes would join, and that they meant to kill every Spaniard in the country.

But De Soto could fight no more battles, for he was dying. One by one the faithful soldiers knelt by his bed, and weeping, bade him farewell.

He asked them to live as brothers, loving and helping one another, and urged them to convert the natives to the Christian religion. And so the brave soldier died, far from home and that sunny Spain which he loved so well, and the whole army wept for him, for they loved him, and grieved to think that they should see him no more.

It was thought best not to let the Indians know of De Soto's death, as they might attack the Spaniards at once if they knew their great leader was gone. So De Soto was buried at night by torchlight, and no salute was fired over his grave, nor any dirge chanted by the priests; but the Indians suspected that he was dead, and even visited the spot where he was buried; so the soldiers, for fear the natives would remove the body after they went away, decided to take it up themselves and sink it in the river. They cut down an evergreen oak, whose wood is almost as heavy as lead, and hollowing out a place large enough for the body, placed it in it, and at midnight it was taken out to the middle of the river, into whose depths it immediately sank. Then the soldiers, in the silence and darkness, returned to the camp, and De Soto was left alone in the wilderness, and only the stars and the river knew where he slept.

His soldiers built some boats and sailed down the Mississippi to the Gulf, and after much hardship reached a Spanish settlement in Mexico.

Few were left of the brilliant company that had left Spain three years before, and so ended the expedition which had sailed away from home so gaily. Their search for gold had been like following the will-o'-the-wisp, which leads on and on, and then vanishes at last, leaving you alone in the darkness.

CHAPTER XIV.

VERRAZANO.

In France, as well as other European countries, the wonderful accounts of the wealth of India and Cathay had been listened to with delight and surprise, and the king, Francis I., determined to send out some ships and see if they might not discover the new way to the East that people had been looking for so long. He thought, too, that he would claim and settle a part of America, so that the New World should not be entirely owned by Spain and England. Before this, France had been content with sending a few fishermen to the northern coasts of America, but they made no settlements, and, as soon as the fishing season was over, always went back to France again.

But in 1523 an expedition left France for the purpose of finding a pa.s.sage to Cathay, and exploring the coast of America. The expedition was commanded by Giovanni Verrazano, an Italian. Soon after leaving France, a tempest came up, and all the ships but one were obliged to return; but Verrazano, with this one, the Dauphine, went on to the Madeiras, and leaving that place in January, 1524, sailed boldly across the Atlantic. After a voyage of over a month, during which time another very severe storm overtook them, they at last saw land. It is supposed that this was the coast of Carolina. Fires were blazing all along the coast as far as the eye could reach, and Verrazano knew by that that the country was inhabited. He sailed along for many miles, keeping close to the sh.o.r.e, and was delighted with the new country, which seemed more beautiful than any he had ever seen before. The sh.o.r.e was covered with fine white sand, making a beach nearly fifteen feet wide, quite level, except here and there where the sand was formed into hillocks, which were covered with strong short gra.s.s. Back from the sh.o.r.e were broad fields, which were kept fresh by the numerous streams that flowed into the sea, and still farther back stood immense forests, whose great variety of color charmed the eye. Verrazano was surprised to find here many kinds of trees that were unknown to him, and said that no words could describe the beauty of these forests. "Think not," he says, "that they are like the Crimean forests, or the solitudes of Scythia, or the rigid coasts of the north, but adorned with palm trees, and cypress, and laurel, and species unknown to Europe, which breathe forth from afar the sweetest of odors."

And combined with the aromatic perfume of the pines was the scent of the violets and roses, and of the beautiful lilies that swung in the lakes, and everywhere birds were singing, and graceful deer looked with startled eyes through the leaves of the hanging vines; and the first impulse of the Frenchmen was to land and enjoy some of the flowers and fruits of this fair land.

In the meantime the natives had come down to the beach, and stood looking with wonder on the Frenchmen; but as soon as the seamen rowed toward the sh.o.r.e the timid Indians fled toward the woods. But the Frenchmen, by signs and friendly motions, made them understand that they need not fear, and soon they all came crowding round the seamen with cries of delight, pointing out at the same time the best place to land.

Verrazano, in turn, was delighted at the appearance of the natives, whose fine figures, and beautifully ornamented robes, and gayly decked out hair, placed them above the common savages that the Frenchman expected to find in the wilds of America. After a pleasant little call here, Verrazano kept on his way, still going northward, carefully examining the coasts, and finding everywhere the same luxuriant growth of trees and flowers. Still, there was no good harbor to be seen; but as the ship was in need of fresh water he decided to try and land. But this he found to be impossible, as the waves broke with great force upon the open beach, making it dangerous for any boat that ventured too near. The natives stood on the sh.o.r.e watching his efforts, and stretched out their hands as if inviting him to land, but he was obliged to give up the attempt and go back to the ship. The natives still continued to make friendly signs, and Verrazano replied to them as well as he could, and ordered a sailor to swim ash.o.r.e with some presents. The man obeyed, and got near enough to the sh.o.r.e to throw the gifts into the ready hands of the Indians; but as he turned to swim back to the boat he was overpowered by the breakers and dashed upon the beach.

The Indians immediately surrounded him, and lifting him up gently, carried him farther up on the beach, out of the reach of the waves. But as soon as the man recovered from his faint, and saw where he was, he began crying loudly for help, and as the natives answered his cries with louder and shriller ones of their own, Verrazano and his companions expected to see the unfortunate seaman speedily killed by the savages; but in this they were mistaken, for the Indians, after they had sufficiently admired the whiteness and delicacy of his skin, built a fire, and did all they could to help him out of his trouble. Verrazano met the same kindness from all the people along the coast; he found them always ready to offer their friendship, and to be of use whenever they could. It is sad to think that for all the good he met at their hands he should allow his men to return evil; but such is the case, for one of them having kidnapped a little Indian boy, the captain not only allowed him to be received on the ship, but carried him away to France, and none of his friends ever heard from him again.

The Dauphine went on up the coast, turning in now and then to explore, a little way, the many bays and rivers which it pa.s.sed, and reached, one pleasant day, what is now known as the Bay of New York. Leaving his ship, Verrazano took a boat and sailed into the inner bay, approaching the island on which New York City now stands. This was the most beautiful spot that the voyagers had yet seen. All around stretched the wooded heights of New Jersey and Long Island, and the great river coming from the north seemed to promise a fair pa.s.sage to some far distant land. The natives came thronging down on the beach from both sh.o.r.es, and, from their friendly tones and signs, seemed to offer a welcome; but before Verrazano could go very far into the "beautiful lake," as he called the harbor, he was compelled by the rising of the wind to put back to the ship and sail on. But his visit is interesting, because he was probably the first white man who had visited the beautiful harbor which to-day is known as one of the greatest commercial ports in the world.

And now the course was changed, and the Dauphine sailed east through Long Island Sound until Narragansett Bay was entered, and then a northerly course was taken, and the harbor of Newport reached. Verrazano describes the country as very fair and pleasant, and indeed it must have appeared so, with its fields of blossoming trees and miles of stately forests. Before the boat touched the sh.o.r.e, the natives flocked down to the beach, and thirty canoes surrounded the vessel, all filled with the wondering Indians. At first they did not come very near, but sat at some distance from the ship, silently admiring the white-skinned strangers before them; and then they suddenly gave a long shout of welcome, and began to come near to the ship and take the gifts of beads and bells and knives that the seamen threw out to them, and finally their last fear vanished and they entered the ship. Here, as farther south, Verrazano was struck with the fine faces and figures of the natives.

Among them were two kings, the elder one about forty years of age. He was dressed in a robe of deer-skins beautifully embroidered, and wore around his neck a chain of gold set with large stones of various colors.

His head was bare, but his hair was carefully arranged, tied behind, and ornamented with pearls and feathers. The younger king, who was about twenty-four, was dressed in the same way, and all the warriors who accompanied them wore deer-skins highly ornamented and polished. The women did not approach the vessel, but remained at a distance, seated in the canoes; but Verrazano saw that they were fine-looking, and modest in behavior, and that they too wore the finely-dressed skins of the deer, and had their hair arranged in a variety of ornamental braids. The hair of the older women was arranged very much like that of the women of Egypt and Syria, and the married women were distinguished by ear-rings of certain, peculiar form.

Verrazano stayed here some fifteen days, pleasantly entertained by the natives, and finding them always friendly and trustful. He made several trips up the bay, and examined the sh.o.r.es closely in search of gold and silver, which he found the natives thought much less of than they did of the bra.s.s rings and strings of beads that he bestowed upon them. But evidently the bay did not lead to Cathay, and no precious metals were found on its borders, and so Verrazano got the Dauphine under way again, and taking affectionate leave of the Indians, sailed out into the Atlantic and up the coast toward Maine. And now the country changed very much in appearance, and the natives were less friendly. There were no beautiful palm-trees, or delicate blossoms of apple and peach, and in place of green fields and sunny meadows, were only sand and rocks. The natives would not come near the ships or let the Frenchmen land, and the trading was all done by means of a long cord stretching from the ship to the sh.o.r.e, and over which the articles were pa.s.sed, the natives retreating hurriedly to the woods as soon as the bargains were made. But Verrazano landed in spite of the opposition of the Indians, and went several miles into the country. He found that the huts were poorer than those at Narragansett Bay, which were made of split logs and nicely thatched, and that the country was poorer, too, than any he had seen yet. When he started back to the ship the natives followed his party, shooting arrows at them, and showing their anger by fierce, wild cries.

But the Frenchmen reached the ship in safety, and were soon sailing away, still northward, and soon reached the sh.o.r.es of Maine, whose outlying islands, Verrazano said, reminded him of some portions of the Adriatic. And then, being short of provisions, and knowing that the whole wide sea lay between him and France, he turned the Dauphine homeward, having explored the Atlantic coast, from the Carolinas to Maine, more carefully than any other navigator had yet done. When he returned to France he gave it as his opinion that the pa.s.sage to Cathay did not lie through the New World, and stated that America was very much larger than Europeans had hitherto believed. His voyage is considered important because of the good idea he gave of the eastern coast of America, and because he corrected the wrong belief that the New World was as small as other navigators had declared.

But he could not make them believe that there was no pa.s.sage to Cathay through the fair provinces of the New World: that beautiful dream was not dispelled for many a long year after Verrazano and his bold crew had become old and gray.

CHAPTER XV.

JACQUES CARTIER.

Verrazano told such wonderful stories of America that many other Frenchmen felt a desire to go and see the country for themselves and find out if the stories were true. But some years pa.s.sed before any new expedition was sent out, and even then it was only undertaken because the French became jealous of the power that Spain was getting in the New World.

Spain already claimed Mexico, Peru, Florida, and the Pacific, and all at once the French king became alarmed and asked if G.o.d had created the new countries for Castilians (Spaniards) alone! His courtiers hastened to tell him no, indeed, and that France had as good a right as any other country to own and settle America. And so Verrazano was sent out, and after him, ten years later, came Jacques Cartier, who left the fort of St. Malo in April, 1534.

[Ill.u.s.tration: JACQUES CARTIER FINDS NEWFOUNDLAND INHOSPITABLE.]

The ships sailed across the Atlantic, taking a more northerly course than usual, and in twenty days reached Newfoundland. Cartier coasted along until he reached the Straits of Belle Isle, which he pa.s.sed through and entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and then sailed leisurely along the western coast of Newfoundland. But much to his disappointment the country was not beautiful and pleasant, as he had heard, but, on the contrary, very dismal and inhospitable. The fertile valleys and green fields that Verrazano had spoken of were nowhere to be seen, but instead only rocks and stones, and wild rough coasts.

The natives were very savage in appearance and not very friendly; and Cartier made a very short stay here, and steered across the Gulf to a bay on the opposite side, where he found the natives also in poor condition, living on raw fish and flesh, without clothing, and using their upturned canoes as houses. But the country itself was much pleasanter than that on the opposite side of the Gulf, and so Cartier decided to take possession of it. Accordingly he called all his company together, and with great ceremony raised a huge cross and claimed the whole region for the King of France.

The natives had all gathered round and stood looking on curiously. There stood the cross, thirty feet high, carved with three fleur-de-lys, and the inscription, "Vive le Roi de France;" and not at all understanding what right these strangers had to their country, the chief and his princ.i.p.al men told Cartier, as well as they could by signs, that they would much rather he should take the cross down again and go away with his ships and leave them in peace. And Cartier explained to them in turn that the king he served was very powerful and rich, and able to send many soldiers and take the land by force if he so wished; but that also he was a very kind and loving king, and wanted to do all that he could for the Indians, and that the very best thing that could happen to them would be to have some Frenchmen come there and settle and teach them the arts of peace.

And then he gave them some trifling presents, some strings of gla.s.s beads, and yards of bright calico, and bits of colored gla.s.s, and shining penknives, and the Indians were so impressed by these gifts that, partly from a desire to obtain more, and partly through fear of the great unknown king, they not only let the cross remain standing, but what was much more, the chief consented to let his two sons go back to France with Cartier, and see for themselves the riches and power of his country and king.

And so the two Indian boys sailed away with these white strangers, and learned stranger things than they had ever dreamed of. Never before had they been farther away from land than they could go in a day's journey in their birch bark canoes; but now, as they stood on the deck of this great ship, and saw the land fade from their sight, and the great, boundless sea all around stretch away and away until it met the sky, and the sun drop down into the water and redden its glossy waves, it was all so different from what they had been used to that their hearts grew sick with longing for home and the fear that they had sailed into a new world and left their friends forever. But by and by, as the familiar stars came out, and the moon's friendly face appeared, and the night came softly down on the sea, the ship ceased to seem so strange and looked very comfortable and pleasant, and when the morning came they did not look backward, but only forward, to that mysterious France toward which they were sailing, and which they reached after a pleasant voyage early in September.

Cartier had been gone four months, and his account of his voyage was so encouraging that it was decided to send out another expedition as soon as the winter was over. The Indian lads were well received at the French court. The king was very kind and condescending and generous, and told them that it would be his greatest pleasure to send over some of his subjects, and make all the Indians Christians. And the two boys, Taignoagny and Domagaia, looked at the silk and velvet robes of the French n.o.bles, and at the diamonds and rubies that glittered in their sword-hilts, and at the king's beautiful palaces, and the marble cathedrals and splendid mansions of Paris, and decided that to be a Christian must be indeed a happy lot, and expressed their willingness to have their whole tribe converted as speedily as possible.

Their whole visit was a succession of wonders and delights, for France was more beautiful even than their wildest dreams of their own "happy hunting-grounds," where it was supposed that the Indians had everything they could desire. But what Canadian Indians had ever dreamed of such a land as this, with its fields of flowers, and miles of ripened grain, and sunny slopes purple with luscious grapes? Even the winter was pleasant, with but little snow and ice outside, and warm, comfortable rooms inside. Very different from their own winter, where the snow lay thick on the ground for months, and the rivers and lakes were frozen, and the pines and balsams hung thick with icicles whose musical tinkling seemed like a sad song for the summer that was gone. Yes, Cartier had told the truth, his king was very powerful and rich and great, and when the spring came and another fleet left St. Malo, Taignoagny and Domagaia were quite in love with France, and very eager for the voyage to be over, so that they could tell their friends all the wonderful things they had seen there.

Cartier and his companions were in fine spirits, for the voyage promised to be a fair one, and they were all sure that honor and wealth awaited them in the New World. In August they arrived at the Gulf of St.

Lawrence, and pa.s.sing Anticosti Island entered the mouth of a great river. Taignoagny and Domagaia said that the name of this river was Hochelaga, and that it came from a far distant country, and was so long that no man had ever seen the beginning of it. Cartier listened to this story with interest; the stream was so broad and deep that he thought perhaps it was not a river at all, but a strait, and that he had at last discovered the long looked-for pa.s.sage to the East. But the Indians told him that as they went up the river it became narrower, and its waters changed from salt to fresh, and then Cartier saw that it could not be the wished-for strait, and so made no haste to follow its course.

He sailed slowly up the great river, which is now known as the St.

Lawrence, examining the country on either side, and looking for a good place to spend the winter. He pa.s.sed the Saguenay, and some distance beyond anch.o.r.ed at an island called by him _Isle-aux-Coudres_, because of the abundance of hazels, and after a short stay here, sailed still farther on and stopped at another island, which abounded in grapes and which he called Bacchus Island--now known as the Isle d'Orleans. Here he received a visit from the natives, a large number of whom had come from the sh.o.r.e in canoes to look at these white visitors.

Cartier invited them on board his ship, but they were afraid to come very near until Taignoagny and Domagaia appeared, and a.s.sured them there was no danger, and that the Frenchmen were friends. The Indians were rejoiced to see their two young countrymen again, and came crowding aboard the ships to hear their wonderful stories about France.

Donnacona, the chief, made a long speech, in which he offered his friendship to Cartier and thanked him for his kindness to his young countrymen, and then kissed his hand and placed his arms about his neck in token of grat.i.tude and trust, and then he invited Cartier and his men to his own home at Stadacona, a little village which stood where now stands the beautiful city of Quebec. The village stood on the cliffs, high above the river, which flowed beneath, and which formed there a pleasant and safe harbor for the ships. So Cartier accepted Donnacona's invitation and they all went to Stadacona, and spent some time there very pleasantly, getting acquainted with the Indians and learning their mode of living, listening to their stories of bear and deer hunts, and their accounts of snow-shoeing and tobogganing, and expeditions up the river and into the great forests all around.

Particularly they liked to dwell upon their battles with another great chief who lived farther up the river. This was Hochelaga, after whom the river was named, and who was the most powerful chieftain in the country. Donnacona was very jealous of him, and was therefore much surprised and grieved when one day Cartier said that he had made up his mind to go and pay Hochelaga a visit.

In vain Donnacona tried to make him believe that the way was long and dangerous, and that Hochelaga would probably take him prisoner and treat him and his men very cruelly. Cartier was all the more resolved to go.

And then Donnacona resolved to play a trick upon him, and see if he could not frighten him from going to Hochelaga, and so keep all the shining looking-gla.s.ses and knives, and bright basins, and pretty gla.s.s beads for himself and his own people, for he could not bear to think that any of this wealth should fall into his rival's hands. So one afternoon, as Cartier and his friends stood looking over the sides of their ship, they saw a most horrible sight. A canoe pushed out from sh.o.r.e and approached the vessel. It was paddled by some disguised natives, and in it were three Indian devils. And dreadful devils they were--the Frenchmen had certainly never imagined such a kind before.

Their faces were as black as soot, and they were dressed in black and white hogskins, and wore horns more than a yard long on their heads. And as they neared the ship they shouted and yelled in a very diabolical manner, and altogether acted as much like devils as they knew how. And crowds of natives followed them down to the bank, shrieking and howling and throwing up their hands, and then rushing back to the woods as if in great fright. Taignoagny and Domagaia, who stood by Cartier's side, also threw up their hands, and looking toward heaven declared that these devils had come from Hochelaga, and that the G.o.d Cudruaigny had sent them to warn the French that all who attempted to visit Hochelaga should perish on the way, for Cudruaigny would send snow-storms, and ice-storms, and cold piercing blasts from the north, and the French would all die miserably of cold and exposure.

But the French only laughed at the devils, and called Cudruaigny a "noddy," and said they had received word from heaven that the weather would be fair, and that they would all be defended from the cold, and so the Indian devils, who were no match for French priests, turned back to the sh.o.r.e, and the natives, giving three loud shrieks in token of their defeat, took the devils in their midst and began a wild dance on the beach; and the next day, when Cartier started for Hochelaga, they sent their good wishes with him, and promised protection to those who remained behind.

For days and days Cartier sailed along the beautiful banks of the great river, stopping now and then to enter the great forests which were full of all kinds of game, or to gather the wild grapes that hung full on every side; and everywhere the natives came down to the beach and greeted them pleasantly, and when they reached Hochelaga they found a great crowd of Indians waiting to receive them and lead them to their village. Cartier and his companions put on their velvet mantles, and plumed hats, and dazzling swords, and marched on with great pomp, followed by the admiring crowd.

The village was very pleasantly situated; in front flowed the shining waters of the Hochelaga, which was nearly a mile wide at that point, and behind, like a protecting spirit, stood the beautifully wooded mountain which Cartier called Mount Royal, a name which it still bears. The village itself stood in the midst of great fields of Indian corn, ripe for gathering, surrounded by palisades for defence against hostile tribes. There were about fifty huts, that of the chief being the largest, and situated in the centre near the great public square, where all the people now gathered and looked with wonder and reverence on these new-comers. And the mothers brought their little children in their arms, and begged that these white strangers would touch them, thinking in some strange way that even the touch of these wonderful visitors would bring blessing with it. They were quite ready to believe that these white men came from a land richer and greater than their own; indeed they would have believed that they came from heaven itself if Cartier had told them so, for all the Indians always worshipped beautiful objects, and they thought that men whose skin was soft and white, and who wore such rich clothing, must belong in some great land where men were n.o.bler and better than poor half-clothed races like their own.