We followed the Savages as they paddled away upstream. We watched like hawks for signs of deception. We didn’t want to be slaughtered for our fine coats, or because the English had insulted them. It was the twenty-ninth day of October, 1611. I can yet see those leaves of crimson and scarlet, gold, lemon, and russet. The woods were bright and beautiful, the day was glad, the sun warm. It was a day to do great deeds, not a day to die.

Yet, we were on that black river of evil, and it seemed to me that Nature was saying goodbye to us. The devils never looked back at us. Somehow, those fellows knew we were behind them. Then they led us off from the main channel. The way was navigable but narrow. So at first we didn’t worry. But it quickly grew narrower and narrower. Oh, they were cunning bastards leading us all right.

Fear gripped us all—yes, myself included. There’s no shame in that, men, long’s we remain steady, and ready to do our duty. Fear, as I say, descended upon us. It fluttered over us at first like the wing of a crow, then it tore into our hearts like ravenous hawks. Fear! Fear of the unknown! Fear of being helpless! Fear of not having a chance!

We decided to turn round before it was too late, and while we could still manage our boat. But as we came round a bend, the Savages were no longer there. There was no one. They had all vanished. They were gone. And not only that, the river had also vanished. It was gone. The channel ended in a meadow, breaking into numerous little streams that snaked away through the grass. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere. We were alone with our fear in a meadow. Each man alone with his fear.

We looked round into the grass and the clover for some sign of life, something moving, some recognizable shape. Something to aim our weapons at. And all the while, we felt their eyes. We knew their eyes were upon us. We could feel their presence. We knew they were there. But where exactly? Where? No tree leaf moved, no flower swayed, no bird flew, no butterfly drifted. Nature was waiting and watching. There was not a puff or a breath of air. There was not a sound nor a peep. There was only a slight, soft ripple of water underneath us. Like the blood that would soon run down there. Our blood. So we braced ourselves for a fight to the finish.

Claude slept profoundly, dreaming of duels and other tests of honour. But his slumbers were interrupted by thunder. A rumbling and a growling so shattering it threw him from his bunk. A crashing and crumbling that fell down around his dreams, tearing the sword of glory from his hand. No threatening sky last night, he told himself, stumbling onto the poop. The din was everywhere around, pandemonium. The pounding was dreadful. The pounding was in his ears, in his bones. In the east, the sun was rising. And five ships were broadside in the sun. Five sails with the bold, blood-red cross of Saint George. Five red crosses and guns blazing. Smoke puffed from the vessels as they thundered, hurling their balls of lead. “I’m finished!” thought Claude, as his own vessel splintered and split, the yard cracking as a ball hit it, the masts toppling, the canvas ripping away in shreds over deck and water. Only Admiral Razilly was returning fire.

On the quarterdeck men cried out in surprise, alarm, agony. Fifteen-pound balls were smashing into the timbers. The balls bashed a gory swath through the men, leaving pieces of them scattered over the deck. Claude cried to the chaos. Men and boys ran hither and yon, bringing powder and shot, loading and priming under fire—there was no sail to put on to maneuver—all in vain! The wounded and dying were everywhere, in odd positions, groaning in red pools that widened and ran and joined, and made the deck slippery. All hope gone. Only blood and defeat. Somehow, Admiral Razilly got up his anchor and ran for it. Two other vessels, hit in the first opening salvo, raised white flags. Surrender! There was nothing else to do. Claude drifted to lee of the battle and raised the white flag. Mercifully, the pounding ceased. The expedition to save Canada was doomed.