Let
the Basques make good their assumed priority: let them produce their
logbook, not merely for the latitude of Newfoundland or Tadoussac, but
also an undisputed entry therein, for the spot where, a century later,
Samuel de Champlain lived, loved, and died. Had the advent of the St. Malo
vikings been heralded by watchful swift-footed retainers to swarthy king
Donnacona, the ruler of the populous town of Stadacona, and a redoubtable
agouhanna of the Huron nation? 'Tis not unlikely.
An entry occurs in the diary of Jacques Cartier, commander of the flagship
"Grande Hermine," to the effect that Donnacona, escorted by twelve canoes,
had met the foreign craft several miles lower than Quebec, where he had
parleyed with his fellow-countrymen, Taiguragny and Domagaya, kidnapped
the year previous at Gaspe and just brought back by Cartier from France;
that, dismissing ten of his twelve canoes, the agouhanna had invited and
received the French commander in his canoe of state, harangued him, and
readily accepted from him a collation of bread and wine, which the captain
of the "Grande Hermine" (thoughtful host) had brought with him.
The meeting over, Donnacona steered for home; and Jacques Cartier ordered
his boats to be manned and ascended the river to seek for a safe anchorage
for his ships. He soon found what he sought, entered then the river Saint
Charles, by him called the St. Croix, landed, crossed the meadows, climbed
the rocks, and threaded the forest.
