SILVER FOXES AND SEACOWS 237

This is where the Island’s first recording tourist set foot—Jacques Cartier, the mariner.

“Shall I read the account?” Jean asked.

“Yes, do,” I agreed.

To the north-east of this cape, for about half a league, there is a very dangerous shoal and rocky bar. At this cape a man came in sight who ran after our long-boats along the coast, making frequent signs to us to return towards the said point. And seeing these signs we began to row towards him, but when he saw we were returning, he started to run away and to flee before us. We landed opposite to him and placed a knife and a woollen girdle on a branch; and then returned to our ships. That day we coasted this shore some nine or ten leagues to try and find a harbour, but could not do so; for as I have already mentioned, the shore is low and the water shallow . . . We landed that day in four places to see the trees which are wonderfully beautiful and very fragrant.

It seems that lighthouse-keepers were not always kind and obliging. Stories have come down how once, long ago, there lived a cruel and wicked keeper on this northern speck of land. He did not aim to save life. He cared only for property. Sometimes, as mariners told, there was no light on the northern point, and ships foundered unhappily on the long dangerous reef. Their possessions the keeper usually salvaged for him- self, and no one was ever the wiser until years later. Those who did manage to reach the safety of the shore did not live long to enjoy that safety or to seek assistance in an Island port. The keeper attended to that.

Years pass. The keeper is growing wealthier and more daring. He grows too daring, hOWever, and his villainy is exposed. Then, it is the keeper’s turn