IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



and banks have greatly extended within 

 living memory, the bay itself was always 

 an evil place for navigators, dry at ebb-tide 

 and perilous with shoals and boulders at 

 the flood. Champlain, caught there, named 

 it Malle Baye, and the river flowing in a 

 many-channelled course through the sands, 

 La Riviere Platte. 



Octogenarians recall the days when Cap 

 a I'Aigle was the goal rather than Pointe 

 au Pic. Advantaged thus, and with its 

 other happy endowments, the lower would 

 have been the more important side of the 

 bay had a forgotten dispute ended differ- 

 ently. Fancy entertains itself in deploying 

 the villas of Pointe au Pic where Cap a 

 I'Aigle's long road runs tranquilly through 

 farms, but those who dwell there unpreten- 

 tiously may little regret that this is only the 

 fabric of a vision. 



Pointe au Pic and Pointe a Gaze were 

 rivals for a promised wharf. All the coun- 

 tryside threw its weight into the political 

 scale, which, like any other just balance, 

 tipped in favour of the out-numbering 

 electors on the hither side. So it came 

 about that in 1852 at Pointe au Pic 

 the wharf was built — henceforth the 

 Grand Debarquement — and many remote 

 28 



