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Updated: May 3, 2025
If Charles de la Pommeraye learns the fate of his friend, he will not rest until he has freed Claude, I am certain. But my uncle will brook no opposition; and I fear there will be more blood shed before anything can be accomplished."
It would be October before we should get under way, and you remember the Hochelaga was bridged just one month later last year. No vessel need hope to make the arduous journey across the Atlantic in less than six weeks." La Pommeraye, in his impulsiveness, had not thought of this; and as the truth of the sailor's words flashed upon him, he felt that his friends were doomed.
This man had been with De Roberval on his voyage, and from him, after an hour's cross-questioning, La Pommeraye at last elicited the truth.
It was the first long and open run I had had since the days of the retreat, when starting from La Pommeraye I had ridden through the forest to Compiègne in search of the Divisional Train. Just after I had returned we started off again at dusk.
It was his sword, torn from his grasp, and hurled over the wall into the water. A quivering silver arc marked the spot where it had gone down. La Pommeraye stood with the same imperturbable air as before. He was smiling as only a victor can, but there was neither scorn nor pity in the smile.
Narvaez' bones lie at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico at least so M. de la Pommeraye told me when he engaged me for this voyage." "A most remarkable resemblance!" returned Cartier. "I would as soon have the Devil on board La Grande Hermine as De Narvaez. Be sure, young man, you join one of the other vessels. Belleau is your name, you say? A good name, but a Narvaez face!"
Roberval was with a small army five miles away; but La Pommeraye recognised in one of the servants, Etienne Brulé by name, the man who had escaped uninjured from the famous encounter with Pamphilo de Narvaez, and who had ever afterwards regarded La Pommeraye as a being of a supernatural order.
Something in the metallic ring of his voice gave Cartier a cold shiver of dread, a menace of impending evil. It would have been useless to enquire further, however, and he returned to his ship to consult with La Pommeraye, his second in command, and with his other officers. La Pommeraye had been left in charge of La Grande Hermine while Cartier paid his visit to Roberval's ship.
She dreaded, above all things, another quarrel between La Pommeraye and her uncle; and her presence would be a safeguard against bloodshed. As she prepared to accompany Charles, her thoughts went back to that other evening nearly five years before when she had been present at an encounter between these same two men.
To-morrow, then, let us meet and talk over our plans." In a few minutes the group had separated. Cartier and De Pontbriand escorted Roberval to his home, while La Pommeraye turned his footsteps away from the city, and towards the broad, moonlit fields. He was restless and disturbed.
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