On the following
Wednesday they set sail with three ships and one hundred and ten men.
Cartier had been careful to explain to the King that it would be of no
use to send an expedition to those northern shores unless it could live
through the winter on its own supplies. The summer was brief, the winter
severe, and there was no possibility of living on the country while
exploring it. As such voyages went, the three ships were well
provisioned. Late in July they came through the Strait of Belle Isle,
and on Saint Laurence's Day, August 10, found themselves in a small bay
which Cartier named for that saint. Rounding the western point of a
great island the little fleet came into a great salt water bay.
"I believe," said Cartier to Maclou as the flagship sailed gaily on over
the sunlit sparkling waves, "that this must be the place from which all
the whales in the world come." The great creatures were spouting and
diving all around the fleet, frolicking like unwieldy puppies. Every one
was alert for what might be discovered next. None were more lively and
full of pleased expectation than the two Indian youths. Captives had
been taken by the white men before, but none had ever returned. Their
people were undoubtedly mourning them as dead, but would presently see
them not only alive but fat and happy.
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