Читать книгу Phantom Ships - Susan Ouriou - Страница 19

…Saying that the Sun, which they always recognized and adored as a God, created the whole of this wonderful Universe. The Sun immediately divided the Earth into several parts, each separated from the other by great lakes; in each part the Sun made a man and a woman to be born: they multiplied and lived for a very long time; but having grown cruel with their children, who set to killing each other, the Sun cried tears of grief, and the rain fell from the sky in such abundance that the water reached the summits of the highest, tallest rocks and mountains. The flood, which they say spread over all the earth, forced them to take to their birch canoes to save themselves from the furious depths of the general deluge; their effort was in vain, however, because a raging wind tumbled them over into the horrible abyss in which they were buried, all except a few old people and a few women who were the most virtuous and the best of all. God then came to comfort them for the loss of their relatives and friends, after which he let them live on earth in great, contented tranquility, giving them by the same token all the skill and ingenuity required to capture as many beaver and moose as they needed for their subsistence.

– Ancient legend of Canada, told in Honguedo

Sometimes Membertou accompanied his grandfather on his trips to lle Caraquet. On those occasions, he slept up in the lookout in the tall trees. One such night he could not get to sleep. On top of his excitement over his coming journey to Quebec with Joseph, the geese and ducks flying overhead made a terrific noise. He climbed down from his perch as dawn was breaking over the point of the island and as the first rays of sunlight traced winged angels in the sky. At least that is what Membertou thought he saw. Enchanted by the images and distracted from daydreams about Quebec, he trotted off in the direction of the sun and almost disappeared in the tall grass. His grandfather had told him about evil Gougou, who lived in a cave on the northeast side of the island, on the side of a small hill covered in sea grass. This part of the island seemed strange to him. The colour of the soil was not the same. The vegetation, too, was different. He stopped short, noting with alarm that he was on Gougou’s territory. He was panic-stricken. He could not budge. The winged angels had fled long before him. Maybe Gougou’s evil breath is what changes the colour of the soil, he thought.

He gave a start when a pack of hares pursued by a silver fox ran by not far from him. Their antics captivated him and restored his calm. Suddenly, the hares vanished as though by magic. Membertou ran to the place where they seemed to have disappeared. Behind a grove of shrubs, he found an opening carved into the side of the hill. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped inside. A weak light shone in the distance. On the shore side, the passage widened. Membertou penetrated into a grotto shining with a thousand fires. He wondered if he was dreaming. He glimpsed cave drawings that looked, with their yellow, brown, and red ochre, to be very ancient. To his left, a fresco showed a creature surrounded by light who looked like the Great Creator as depicted by the shaman. From the creature’s breath grew a planet with vegetation unfamiliar to Membertou. He could make out strange animals and birds. He was stupefied, struck dumb with wonder. A second fresco showed a naked man and woman contemplating a garden of trees and flowers that Membertou did not recognize. This one reminded him of the stories the missionary told about the Garden of Eden. Farther on, he could make out a large canoe on which perched a bird, holding in its talons a tuft of grass. A gentle-looking animal, with one single horn growing out of its forehead, stood on a small promontory, almost submerged by the waves. Membertou stood for a long time gazing at the drawing. He would have liked to tame such a beautiful animal despite its haughty air as it defied the flood with its single horn as straight as an arrow. To his right, a painting represented a large ship with a carving of the god Odin on its prow. That looks like the shipwreck on Ile Miscou, Membertou thought. The Mi’kmaq painted the Viking ship!

He was reminded of his mother’s blonde hair, a sign of the mingling of Mi’kmaq and Viking blood. He never tired of gazing on and stroking her wheat-coloured hair. He was not sure what to think anymore. He looked closely at the symbols painted beside the ship: twenty-four signs unlike the ones in the Eden paintings.

He kept exploring, discovering other, what seemed more recent, paintings. One scene struck him: a family, with a child in a birchbark cradle. He thought of Joseph, his new father, and Geneviève, the little sister he was learning to love. It hadn’t been easy; he had been jealous for months after her birth. When she began to walk, he spent hours playing with her. He teased her, played tricks on her, made faces to make her cry; it was one way of showing the rancour he felt about this child taking his place. On the other hand, when Joseph lost his patience and scolded Geneviève, Membertou sprang into action. His tantrums were something to behold. He yelled and broke everything he could get his hands on. His rage exploded when he was punished (by Joseph, who did not always abide by Mi’kmaq customs) for hurting Geneviève or for egging her on when she was up to no good or using bad words. The sounds of the nearby waves rocked him, as though in celebration of a moment of closeness with his new family. Suddenly, a light above his head drew his gaze. In a crack in the grotto, a small polished metal chest lay on a dark blue rock. Intrigued, he drew nearer. He examined it. Opened it. A fountain of colours sprang out at him: the yellow, blue, red, and violet of gold and precious stones. What fascinated him above all was a gold cross with rubies on the ends. This must be the paradise described by the shaman and the missionary, he thought.

All the beauty had made him forget about evil Gougou. I cant wait for Grandfather to explain all these enigmas to me.

He closed the chest, left the cave, and walked out onto the beach. The sun was slowly rising above Miscou point. That was where he found Saint-Jean, who knew what had happened as soon as he saw Membertou on the beach.

“Where were you?” he shouted as Membertou emerged from the tall grass.

“Grandfather, I found a heavenly spot over there, in a cave,” Membertou said, still under the spell of the special place.

It took Saint-Jean a minute to regain his composure and think of something to say. “I thought I told you not to wander over there. Now you must swear not to tell a soul.”

“Fine, but tell me about what I saw in the cave.”

“Not so fast… Sit down and listen. A long time ago, the Mi’kmaq discovered this site, and the cave paintings tell their story. They also painted the story of the creation of the world according to their beliefs. The legends are the same legends as the Catholics, with a Garden of Eden, the flood…”

“What was the flood?”

“Some say it was God s punishment for mans evil ways. Others say that, in ancient times, a moon fell to earth and provoked the catastrophe. The moon fell on a continent that had a flourishing civilization before it was submerged. It was called Atlantis. Its inhabitants had to flee from the earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Several ended up in Persia and others in Egypt, where they built the great pyramids. The flood also covered the lowlands of Canada.”

“Where did you learn all this?”

“I never told you about my early days in Rouen. My father was a printer and had a huge library where I learned all about lost civilizations. In the evening the Huguenot intellectuals of the city would often gather at our house. Hiding at the top of the big stone staircase, I listened to their conversations. The wars of religion were over, but my parents were still suffering from harassment. They were ruined because of their beliefs. They never got over the bankruptcy and died in poverty. I was twenty at the time, and my only thought was to seek revenge and reclaim our honour. So I began counterfeiting money to buy back the family property, but alas, I was caught and sentenced to the galleys.”

Membertou had already heard about the galleys; now he was impatient for information about the next drawing. “I saw a superb animal inside the cave,” Membertou remarked. “Does it exist somewhere?”

“The Ancients called it a unicorn. Legend has it that it was too proud to take refuge in the Great Canoe and so perished in the flood.”

“That’s unfair!” he cried. “Why doesn’t the God of Creation protect his creatures?”

“No one knows God’s plan,” Saint-Jean said, with a hint of bitterness.

After a moment’s silence, he said, “You must have noticed the Indian paintings showing the Vikings and their writing.”

“Yes, and some funny drawings underneath the paintings…”

“They’re called runes. The Vikings write them on small stone disks, which they use to predict the future.”

“What about the ship with the carved figurehead? It looks like the shipwreck at Miscou.”

“It’s called a drakkar. The Vikings stayed for a while… In fact, your mother Angélique has certain features…”

“Are you the one who spread a rumour about evil Gougou to keep people away from this place?”

“Yes.”

“So where does Gougou live?”

“It’s thought she hides out on Ile Miscou, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”

A heavy silence settled to mark the solemnity of the moment, as though they had been enveloped by Gougou’s evil breath.

“My fear is that with the sea eating away at the cape year after year, soon there will be nothing left of the treasure,” confessed old Saint-Jean.

At these words, Membertou gave a start. He’d been so caught up in the story he was hearing, he’d almost forgotten about “his” treasure. “I found a little chest full of precious stones and gold coins…”

“Aren’t you the little gougou! I thought you had missed it. Well, I guess there’s nothing for it but to tell you the whole story. More than twenty years ago, during the high tides of October, the carcass of a burned ship showed up not far from Miscou, on the shores of a small island I called Treasure Island. You remember the story of the cursed ship that the Mi’kmaq set fire to in order to take revenge for the raids… It’s said that a certain Gaspar de Corte Real, from a family of Portuguese navigators, massacred Beothuk Indians in Newfoundland in the year 1500; it didn’t take long for tribe members to repay him in kind. In 1502, his brother Miguel came looking for him and was killed on Ile aux Hérons by a young Mi’kmaq who accused him of seducing his fiancée. Legend has it that the explorer will return one day in a burning ship to take his revenge. You know, there may be a kernel of truth to the legend of the phantom ship… I found the chest in the ship’s hold and brought it to the cave. I’m convinced that one day the treasure will come in handy, if not to ensure our prosperity, at least to barter with the English, who, I’m afraid, will soon be treating us like slaves. The treasure is sacred. We could use it to become rich, but we must touch it only in case of dire need. We must live like ordinary people, otherwise we’ll become possessive and greedy. I was the only one who knew about this place. From now on, you will share my secret with me, my son.”

Saint-Jean refused to say anything more. Proud of the trust being placed in him by his grandfather, Membertou did not ask any more questions.