La mort de l'explorateur Nicolet
The Death of the explorer NicoletVersion française
In this afternoon of October 1642, a messenger sent by the governor of Trois-Rivières arrived in Québec requesting the immediate aid of Jean Nicolet. Some Algonquins wanted to put to death a Mohawk prisoner. This execution would have in danger all the inhabitants of the surrounding area because the Iroquois were threatening to revenge themselves on the population. Jean Nicolet was trusted by the Indians and only he could make them understand reason and release the prisoner.
Having to go to Trois-Rivières as quickly as possible, he asked François de Chavigny, who was to leave the next day, to leaver earlier. The full moon would amply illuminate the river which was calm and peaceful. The wife of M. de Chavigny find the risk to be great but the adventurous character of her husband, edged on by Jean, reasoned with her and the group left around 7 o'clock in the evening. Jean Ferré and Noël Girardeau, who had complete trust in François sailed the barge easily and surely. Chavigny would be in sight before dawn.
Unfortunately, a north-east wind came up and brought about a serious and unexpected storm. The men had trouble keeping the barge afloat and the sail became more and more difficult to maneuver. As a sailor for many years, Noël had never seen such a storm, so violent and so sudden, and as much current as counter-current. The waves came from all sides, following the east winds coming strongly and the west winds coming from the roots of the river. On François' orders, they trimmed, set and desperately hung on in order to avoid the waves which were becoming higher and higher and the unforseen whiplashes came from all sides.
The dock wasn't but a hundred meters when an enormous wave capsided the barge with pity, sending to the depths men and equipment. The men were successful to grab on to the upended rowboat which was floating on the waves. The glacial rain stung their face with a thousand needles without any reprise. François was able to sustain Jean Nicolet who did not know how to swim, as well as the other two. The storm became more and more violent, the waves more and more imposing. The men could not hang on much longer. François called out to them to hang on, that the dock was not very far away. One after another, the two companions could feel their strength slowly disappearing and were lost in the darkness and the icy waves.
Only François and Jean remained, hanging on to each other as well as onto the rowboat. There was no question of abandoning. François was helping Jean to swim up to the near shore and they would be saved. Jean did not hear him. Feeling his strength waning and knowing that this would be the cause of his companion's death, he prayed to him to let him go.
- Let me go, I implore you. There have been enough deaths. I do not want you to drown along with me and you know that. François refused to let him go, grabing more tightly to his arm.
-I will bring you with me, I swear.
-I refuse to be the cause of your loss. God is calling me back to Him, I will go according to His will. I confide to you the care of my wife and my little daughter.While saying this, he disengaged himself from the embrace of François and was lost in the darkness of the waves.
François became crazy and almost let himself go but the sight of his sweet Éléonore and his little Marie-Madeleine gave him courage and strength. He left the floating barge for a brief moment before leaving on his turn and swam towards the near shore. The cold was so violent that his limbs seemed to have been detached from his body. He swam terribly, forcing himself to not think about what just happened. He had to reach the shore, he wanted to live.
When he started to believe that he could not reach there, he felt land beneath his feet. He walked a few paces and finally reacher the shore, falling face down on the land. The moon no longer lit up the night which was now black. The rain continued to fall without end and the wind was blowing more and more strongly. He should not stay this way, soaked and exhausted. He must walk and find the way. If he were to stop, death would take him over.
Luckily, along the course of the preceeding year, he had learned how to find his way in the forest and knew very well the river borders, having passed by often. He walked in the direction of Québec, allowing not a single moment of respite. The cold became unbearable and his clothing as well as his hair were covered with ice, making his journey more difficult. He walked in this manner until sunrise and, thanks to heaven, came into the sight of the Jesuits. He didn't have the strength to knock, falling in front of the door, lifeless.
The Jesuits found him unconscious. To their great surpise, he was alive. With a livid color, his mouth was blue. His entire body was so cold that he was stiff. He was hardly breathing and life seemed to have left him. On had to act and quickly. As quickly as possible, they took off his clothing and wrapped him in warm blankets. They were not able to have him swallow anything; they could only keep him very warm and wait until he regained conscientiousness. The hope of seeing him revived to life continued hour after hour. He was delirious and muttered incomprehensible words. What had happend to him? No one knew. Only he would be able to tell upon awakening.
On the third day, the impossible happened. His body regained some color, delirium left him and he opened his eyes. Éléonore melted into his tears so great was his deliverance. François seemed to be lost, not knowing much where he was. He revived slowly to life and could remember his night of hell in the icy waters.
He tried desperately to get up and to go find his companions to save them from drowning. His hope of seeing them arrive was completely dashed when he learned that their bodies had been found not far from Québec.
A touching ceremony took place in memory of the three men. The entire colony was present at the funeral as well as François, held up by Éléonore and Antoine, his faithful servant. Marguerite Couillard, the young widow of Jean was also present. Nearly 16 years old, she was holding in her arms her little daughter who was born in the springtime.
Source : Excerpt from the historical novel of Éléonore deGrandmaison, Lady in New France
Author Madame Rina Auger rinaog@abacom.comPlease use the BACK/RETURN Button on your Browser to
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