northern shore of the Gulf of St Lawrence, a low, flat
country, heavily wooded, with great mountains forming a
jagged sky-line. Cartier had now, evidently enough, come
back again to the side of the great Gulf from which he
had started, but, judging rightly that the way to the
west might lie beyond the Anticosti coast, he continued
on his voyage along that shore. Yet with every day progress
became more difficult. As the ships approached the narrower
waters between the west end of Anticosti and the mainland
they met powerful tides and baffling currents. The wind,
too, had turned against them and blew fiercely from the
west.

For five days the intrepid mariners fought against the
storms and currents that checked their advance. They were
already in sight of what seemed after long searching to
be the opening of the westward passage. But the fierce
wind from the west so beat against them that the clumsy
vessels could make no progress against it. Cartier lowered
a boat, and during two hours the men rowed desperately
into the wind. For a while the tide favoured them, but
even then it ran so hard as to upset one of the boats.
When the tide turned matters grew worse. There came
rushing down with the wind and the current of the St
Lawrence such a turmoil of the waters that the united
strength of the thirteen men at the oars could not advance
the boats by a stone's-throw. The whole company landed
on the island of Anticosti, and Cartier, with ten or
twelve men, made his way on foot to the west end. Standing
there and looking westward over the foaming waters lashed