for the ship’s hands to land.  In the morning a gig boat was lowered to row ashore.  In it were Captain Gillam, Radisson’s personal enemy, John Bridgar,[10] the new governor of the Hudson’s Bay Company for Nelson River, and six sailors.  All were heavily armed, yet Radisson stood alone to receive them, with his three companions posted on the outskirts of the woods as if in command of ambushed forces.  Fortune is said to favor the dauntless, and just as the boat came within gunshot of the shore, it ran aground.  A sailor jumped out to drag the craft up the bank.  They were all at Radisson’s mercy—­without cover.  He at once levelled his gun with a shout of “Halt!” At the same moment his own men made as if to sally from the woods.  The English imagined themselves ambushed, and called out that they were the officers of the Hudson’s Bay Company.  Radisson declared who he was and that he had taken possession of the country for France.  His musket was still levelled.  His men were ready to dash forward.  The English put their heads together and decided that discretion was the better part of valor.  Governor Bridgar meekly requested permission to land and salute the commander of the French.  Then followed a pompous melodrama of bravado, each side affecting sham strength.  Radisson told the English all that he had told the New Englanders, going on board the Company’s ship to dine, while English hostages remained with his French followers.  For reasons which he did not reveal, he strongly advised Governor Bridgar not to go farther up Nelson River.  Above all, he warned Captain Gillam not to permit the English sailors to wander inland.  Having exchanged compliments, Radisson took gracious leave of his hosts, and with his three men slipped down the Nelson in their canoe.  Past a bend in the river, he ordered the canoe ashore.  The French then skirted back through the woods and lay watching the English till satisfied that the Hudson’s Bay Company ship would go no nearer the island where Ben Gillam lay hidden.

Groseillers and his son looked after the trade that winter.  Radisson had his hands full keeping the two English crews apart.  Ten days after his return, he again left Hayes River to see what his rivals were doing.  The Hudson’s Bay Company ship had gone aground in the ooze a mile from the fort where Governor Bridgar had taken up quarters.  That division of forces weakened the English fort.  Introducing his man as captain of a French ship, Radisson entered the governor’s house.  The visitors drained a health to their host and fired off muskets to learn whether sentinels were on guard.  No attention was paid to the unwonted noise.  “I judged,” writes Radisson, “that they were careless, and might easily be surprised.”  He then went across to the river flats, where the tide had left the vessel, and, calmly mounting the ladder, took a survey of Gillam’s ship.  When the irate old captain rushed up to know the meaning of the intrusion Radisson suavely proffered provisions, of which they were plainly in need.