OLOTORACA.
During all this talk, my mind in a ferment, I was forced to sit with
elbows glued to sides, unable to put the query for Mademoiselle which
trembled upon the lips even as I listened to what was going forward.
I had kept my eyes upon Olotoraca, the nephew of the great chieftain,
as he sat leaning forward with hands upon his knees listening to the
words of Dariol. ’Twas a wonderfully handsome face and even the hideous
streaks of crimson upon it could not disguise the regularity of the
features and the expression of candor and fearlessness which animated
them; and the pride of his port was that of a prince, heir to some
great kingdom. As he glanced about the cabin from time to time I caught
his eye and gave him a look of welcome which he returned with a smile.
The sun coming in the after-port lit up the scarlet streaks upon his
face and head-gear and penetrated the ferocious disguise, reducing
him after all to his proper dimension--a fine, brave lad of five and
twenty, who if born an Englishman would have served his queen with
honor and profit.
So I took a mind that this Olotoraca should be the one with whom I
would speak of Mademoiselle. Not until the planning and discussion of
the attack upon Fort San Mateo had become general could I get the ear
of De Brésac and then I told him what was in my mind.
“Olotoraca,” said Brésac, when at last we had come together, “it will
not be many suns ere your crest will wear another eagle’s feather.
You will go upon such a warpath as was never known among the tribes
of Satouriona or Tacatacourou; and when you come back to your village
there will be many trophies upon your girdle and you will be a great
chief among your people.”
His eyes shone as he said simply, “It is so--or I shall be dead.”
“You may one day be Paracousi of all your nation. After the great
Satouriona is gone, it is to you that our people will look for the
friendship which has been begun to-day.”
“The Paracousi Satouriona and Olotoraca are one in all their thoughts.
For is it not from him that Olotoraca has learned the signs of the
forests and the medicine of his tribe? How shall he change what
Satouriona has done? What Satouriona does is good, and shall not be
altered.”
“It is wisdom, Olotoraca. For the French are a great people and
they love their friends with their whole hearts. At Fort Caroline
Monsieur Killigrew and I have fought the Outinas and the Spaniards for
Satouriona; and soon our chief with the pale face will revenge the
insults and abuses which the Black-beards have put upon you.”
The young brave at the mention of the name of Killigrew had sent his
cold glance upon me with startling abruptness as though to pierce me
through. For the nonce he was a wild animal of the forest again. Then
he looked calmly at De Brésac.
“Keel-ee-gru--the pale giant is called Keel-ee-gru?” He muttered the
words half aloud, half to himself and then tossed his head so that the
bear-claws rattled about his neck.
“You have heard my name?” I asked.
“The Captain Keel-ee-gru is a friend of the Paracousi Emola. A friend
of Emola is a brother of Olotoraca,” he replied easily.
A look passed between the Chevalier and me. There was that in the
manner of Olotoraca which we could not understand. But De Brésac had
made a quick theory of his own, and acting on it as was his wont, he
put his hand upon the muscular shoulder of the young warrior, turning
him about and looking him steadily in the eyes.
“We believe in the truth of the things you say, Olotoraca, and for
our part we will keep our promises. But you, what have you done for us
since we have been away? What will you do for us when we are gone?” The
Indian did not look at De Brésac, but straight before him.
“We will keep friendship as we have ever done,” he said evenly, “asking
no more than we can give.”
“You have kept friendship with our people?” said the Chevalier
craftily, and I saw his drift. “Then you have among you those who
escaped from Fort Caroline!”
A great change came suddenly over the face of the young brave. He
flashed the eye of a hawk first at the Chevalier and then at me.
De Brésac was impassive. I was leaning forward, the query that was
vexing my soul hanging upon my tongue. His face lost the boyish look
and in a moment became again as it was when he mounted the entering
ladder--haughty and immobile.
“There is but one of your race among us,” he said, carelessly, “a
youth who calls himself Debré. He is at the village of the Paracousi
Satouriona and will be brought hither on the morrow.”
It all happened thus as I have written it. ’Twas but a second of time
that his eyelid fluttered at our sudden query as he sought to gain
his composure. But in that brief moment there was that which showed
us that the personal friendship which this young brave avowed was no
friendship at all, but only breath upon his lips and in no manner to
be believed. If something had happened to make the Indian distrust us,
’twas no good beginning for our foray. And these doubts must speedily
be cleared if success was to attend our undertaking. For my part I was
so sure Olotoraca was lying, that I made myself no concern over his
denial. A French youth named Debré had escaped and had been cared for.
Then why not others? If Satouriona was a friend of the French, then all
refugees should be safe in his lodges.
After the Indians had been set ashore again and De Gourgues had been
told of the manner of Olotoraca, he stroked his chin gravely.
“You are certain of some deception? H-m! That is strange, for I have
found a great frankness in the manner of the Paracousi. But it may
be as you say--and we will be upon our guard against him. ’Tis most
certain that these Caribs do hate the Spaniards with a mortal hatred
and we must show no doubt of them until our mission is accomplished. So
I say, do nothing to gain their enmity, even should you believe that
friends of yours are in their keeping.”
These were orders and he spoke them firmly. But all night long I strode
up and down the deck under the deep vault of starlit sky, trying to hit
upon some plan by which I could learn the truth. Why had Olotoraca
started at the mention of my name? Emola had spoken it, he said, but
my return to Florida should be no cause for alarm or even surprise to
him, since in the presence of that chief we three, De Brésac, Goddard
and I, had sworn to visit vengeance upon the Spaniards, and Emola knew
that we would return as soon as could be. Unless our judgment was at
fault there was some matter of common interest between this young Carib
prince and me. For the chance perception which had enabled us to pierce
the weak spot in his armor had shown that there was something in his
mind against me, which in spite of his accustomed immobility he could
not hide. What could it mean? The instinct of battle and the desire to
measure my strength and skill against any man who looked at me askance,
an instinct which has not been taken from me even at this day, rose
up strong and I vowed I would have some fair good exercise from this
fellow, should he not explain. Perhaps Mademoiselle--
Ah--there was I making mysteries again! Why should I be forever
bringing her forward into every uncertainty. At any rate Debré, the
boy, would know. If she were among the Indians he could tell me where.
Upon his speech, then, hung all my chance of earthly happiness.
Early on the morrow we went ashore and with a ruthless disregard for
the orders of De Gourgues I set about trying to find Olotoraca. But
since dawn he had been gone with our scouts to reconnoiter the Spanish
fort. Satouriona was at the encampment, sending out his runners and
receiving messages from the outlying villages. He received us gravely
and took us to his lodge, lifting the deerskin at its entrance with a
grace and courtliness to excite the envy of a gallant. He gave some
orders, and when we were seated and De Brésac asked him who were the
French people that had escaped into his hands, he looked at us from the
one to the other, saying most frankly.
“We have only one, my brother, and he is but a boy. Because of the love
which we bear his people we have kept him safe, though the Spanish have
offered us many gifts to return him to the Fort. We love him now for
himself, and have made him one of our people. Behold, he is here!”
And turning, we saw a youth of sixteen or thereabouts standing at the
entrance of the lodge. For a moment he drew back, awkward and fearful,
and would have vanished had not De Brésac called to him in French.
“No. We are no Spaniards, mon cher, but those of your own race. Come
then!”
So great was his joy that with a cry he threw himself upon us, clasping
and patting our hands for all the world like some dumb animal at the
sight of its master. Satouriona, cautioning us with a smile not to do
him hurt, wrapped his blanket about him and went out of the lodge down
to the beach to meet the boat of De Gourgues, which was reported to
have left the _Vengeance_.
Debré was a slender lad of comely appearance; but neither I nor Brésac
remembered to have seen him at Fort Caroline. When his first transports
of delight were over and we had told him that our object was to destroy
the Fort and to restore fugitives such as he to their kinsmen, he
looked at us in dismay, saying of his own accord,
“Alas, messieurs, I am the only one who has been spared.”
That was all I wished to know. I would have arisen and gone forth from
the lodge but Brésac looked at me, laying a hand upon my arm.
“Wait,” said he.
Then said the Chevalier to the boy,
“You alone escaped from the Fort. Did you come direct to the Indians of
Satouriona?”
“I fell in with a war party of Tacatacourou. They brought me to the
chief village of Satouriona.”
“You saw no other persons from the Fort?”
“Oui, monsieur. There were several men who fled through the swamps.”
“But no women?”
“Non, monsieur. Stay--yes, there were two women who fled by the
casement before me and whom I saw in the forest.”
“Do you remember them, Pierre?”
“Oui, monsieur--they were ladies who came upon the _Trinity_ with
Admiral Ribault. They were noble, I think--though I do not remember the
name,--La--La----”
“La Notte?”
“Yes, that is the name, monsieur. I know it now, because Mademoiselle
was very beautiful, and when we landed from the _Gloire_ I asked my
mother how she was called.”
“And you saw them no more after that?” We leaned forward breathlessly
to get the boy’s reply.
“Monsieur, I was wild with fear,” he said, flushing red in shame. “My
mother had been killed before my eyes and two Spaniards had pursued me
to the breach in the wall. I fled to the forest, passing these women in
my flight. I ran on and on until I dropped exhausted in the thicket.”
“You have not seen them since?”
“In the head village of the Indians?” he asked wide-eyed with surprise.
“No, monsieur! They could not have been in the village of Satouriona or
I should have known.”
He spoke with an air of conviction which drove away doubt from the mind.
But De Brésac pursued his questions undeterred.
“There is a village called Tacatacourou, is it not so?”
“Oui, monsieur.”
“It is possible that other French persons could have been kept there
without your knowledge?”
“Oui, monsieur,” said the boy wondering--“but why should the great
Paracousi, who had been so kind, keep me away from the people of my
race? I cannot understand.”
“You may know in time, my good Pierre. But there is a mystery which you
may help us to solve--only let no word of this come to the ears of the
Paracousi.”
“Monsieur,” said Pierre firmly, “Satouriona is my father and if any
harm----”
“Ah, my child, you do not comprehend,” smiled De Brésac. “We are
friends of Satouriona and with him we will fight the Spaniards. You
must take our word that we mean him no harm.”
“I will, messieurs,” replied the boy at last, sighing.
“It is well, mon ami. You will have no cause for regret,” said De
Brésac. “You have been to the village of Tacatacourou?” he continued.
“No, monsieur. It is a day’s journey from the village of Satouriona.”
“Did you not wish to go?”
“Oui, monsieur, but there was no opportunity. The Paracousi Olotoraca
feared I should be captured by the Spaniards.”
“Olotoraca!”
“Oui, monsieur. The Paracousi Olotoraca has been a good friend and
brother to me.”
“Ah! I understand. He thought that you might be captured again. But
why should you fear capture on such a journey? Is not the village of
Tacatacourou to the northward of this place,--away from the fort of the
Spaniards?”
“I do not fear, monsieur,” replied Debré with dignity; “but if the
Paracousi Olotoraca did not wish me with him, it was not possible for
me to go.”
“Then he did not desire you to go? That is what I wished to learn,”
said De Brésac with a smile. Then after a pause, “Why did Olotoraca go
to the village of Tacatacourou? Is he not the nephew of Satouriona? Is
not his place by the side of his uncle the great Paracousi?”
“Monsieur, the Paracousi Olotoraca is a great brave and the first young
chief in all the country. He looks about him that he may choose a squaw
from the most beautiful maidens of the nation. Therefore he goes to
Tacatacourou. This is the common report.”
“Then he loves? The women there are beautiful, Pierre?”
“So it is said, monsieur; though having seen none of them, I cannot
say. Perhaps that is why he did not wish me to go; or perhaps that is
not the reason,--I cannot say. That is all I know, and I pray that no
harm may come of the words I have spoken.”
“Never fear, good Pierre. You have done well. Now if it pleases we will
go forth to meet the Chevalier de Gourgues. You will tell him what you
have told us, and as much more concerning the armament and condition of
Fort Mateo as you have been able to learn from the Indians. Will you go
too, Killigrew, or will you await us here?”
“I will stay,” said I with a sigh, dropping on a pile of skins.
The Chevalier looked at me sharply.
“Pouf! Have you no instincts--no perceptions? You grow weary at a most
purposeful time!”
But I did not reply. Of a truth, I was weary. So many times had I
sailed these flights of fancy to have my poor sails torn to shreds and
my poor hulk racked bone from bone, that I was for choosing at the
last some harbor of refuge where I could find a rest after it all.
I had come with my harebrained followers over a thousand leagues of
sea,--and for what? For murder?--for destruction?--for a vengeance
by fire and sword, as the others had? No. It was not that which had
drawn me to these God-forsaken shores--drawn me more surely than ever
plummet sought an anchorage. It was the memory of a pair of honest
eyes with tear-drops trembling on the lashes, as my lady bade me go
and fight her battle for her--a battle which by God’s grace had been
deferred until now. True, I wanted the life of De Baçan--that was my
own private affair. But what cared I for their wars about religion?
There was sin enough in any worship which was not done in the way
of peace and good-will and I knew that we as well as the Spaniards
would all be most justly condemned for using God’s altar to wipe
our sword-blades on. With the discovery that Mademoiselle was not
in the village of Satouriona my mind seemed to be weakening, and I
had not control over my thoughts. The Chevalier de Brésac with his
fine philosophy had solved the matter to his satisfaction, seeing in
the actions of Olotoraca at mention of my name a sure sign that for
reasons of his own, he held Mademoiselle de la Notte a prisoner. I
could not--nay, would not,--bring myself to believe she was at the
village of Tacatacourou. A truce to imagining! I had gone too far, and
suffered too much, to be inventing new theories to drive me mad. We had
voyaged from one end of the earth to the other and had come at last to
the place where I had sworn we should find her. And she was not there!
That was all. I had had enough. God forgive me! As I lay there in my
unreason, I lost all control and cursed all things that came to my
tongue, forgetting that it was only through God’s providence that I
had been let to live and come to this day.
Not caring what came of me I lay there oblivious, until I presently
heard a sound without. I raised my head, a figure darkened the door
of the lodge. For a moment, I thought it was Pierre returning. But
a moccasined foot was thrust forward, and with a deft and graceful
movement the figure dropped the skin at the entrance way and stepped
within the lodge. Then I saw that it was an Indian, a girl--the most
beautiful of that race I had ever seen.
As I lifted on my elbow I brushed my hand across my eyes, for so quiet
was she I thought truly that this dusky vision was some creature of the
fancy. With a commanding gesture she approached. I would have spoken;
but she placed her finger upon her lips, looking around toward the
entrance in token of secrecy. I kept my peace. At last she uttered
the one word, _Maheera_ and, touching her breast with a long slender
finger, I understood that she was telling me her name. The words,
uttered in a quiet tone, seemed to come from her throat rather than
from her lips and her voice was very low and sweet. When she had said
that, she touched me upon my arm calling me Keel-ee-gru as though my
name were some word in the soft language of her own. I marveled that
she should know me and could not understand what she wished. But in
a moment her object was clearer, for she began to speak in the sign
language which these strange people have for conversing with one
another when their tongues are unfamiliar. Of this I understood a
little. She had several French words, and she moved her lithe young
arms and body with wonderful grace, telling me by pointing to her dusty
moccasins and simulating weariness that she had come a journey from a
great distance to seek me. I nodded my head in comprehension.
Then her face grew sad and her body seemed to melt to nothingness. She
clasped her right hand upon her left and laid them both upon her heart,
saying the name of Olotoraca. So gentle, soft and lingering was the
word upon her tongue and so melancholy her attitude, no language could
have told plainer that her heart was hers no more and that a sadness
had come upon her. She sighed deeply, looking upon her hands and
fingering her silver bracelets. I put my fingers upon the head in pity,
for I too knew what heart wounds were.
But at my touch she shrunk away and her mood changed like an April day.
The look she flashed up at me was one of pride and majesty, and there
was a spark of vengefulness, of wild unreason in it that taught me
how concealed and subtle were the channels of her thought. She wanted
no pity--none from me at any rate. In a moment she was gentle again,
telling me that she had come from the village of Tacatacourou and, with
a gesture which I might not mistake, that she was a princess of the
blood.
It was not till then, not until she had mentioned the name of her
tribe and village, that I even so much as thought upon the object of
her visit to me. Then the suspicions of the Chevalier, the association
of the names of Olotoraca and Tacatacourou linked her story together
in my mind in some fashion. She had come from Tacatacourou! I started
up drawing in my breath quickly and looking her in the eyes. What
if--if----?
She saw the note of anxious and expectant inquiry in my look and met it
with a smile and sparkling eyes.
“Oui, oui,” she cried in joy. “The Moon-Princess! The Moon-Princess!”
I understood. This was no mill-stone to look through. I remembered the
name Satouriona had given to Mademoiselle at Fort Caroline. The darkest
hour of my night was past and it was dawn that was breaking.