THE DEATH OF THE WOLF.
De Gourgues gave the word. Cazenove with thirty men pushed forward to
the Fort gate while the main body of us under De Gourgues ran at full
speed for the glacis. We were not discovered until we were well up
the slope, when a cannoneer who had come upon the rampart sent up a
startled cry.
“To arms! To arms! The French are coming! The French are coming!”
The Spaniards had just finished their morning meal and came rushing
up, fastening on their steel-pieces. The gunner who had given the
alarm, hastily aiming his cannon at us, fired wildly and the ball went
crashing into the thicket. He had time even to load and fire again
before Olotoraca, who had outstripped the others, ran up the glacis,
leaped the unfinished ditch and drove his pike through the Spaniard
from breast to back, pinning him to the gun-carriage. Some of the
Frenchmen were by his side in a moment, and jumping down into the fort
they cut their way into the thick of the superior numbers, who fell
back before the fierce onslaught.
“After me,” shouted Cazenove from the gate. “They fly by this way. At
their throats, mes garçons, cut them down!” De Gourgues turned the rest
of his men in that direction. The Spaniards were caught between two
fires and all of those who had escaped from the Fort were imprisoned
between our party and that of Cazenove. The Indians too came thrusting
upon their flanks. Many of them fought desperately, but their efforts
were futile against the whirlwind of passion of the Frenchmen who
beat them to the earth like chaff. All except a few were killed upon
the spot. Those who were spared were saved by the Avenger for a more
inglorious end.
During all this time we had been aware that the Spaniards in the fort
upon the other shore had taken alarm and were firing upon us without
ceasing. But when the first victory had been won De Gourgues turned
four of the captured cannon against them; and to such good purpose that
one of the Spanish guns ceased firing at once, the men running below in
dismay. Then one of the boats, a very large barge which by this time
had arrived along-shore, was brought to the landing-place and eighty
of us were crowded into it. The river here is about a quarter of a
league in width, but the Indians rushed into the water after us and
holding their bows and arrows above their heads, swam across straight
as water-rats. Their dark faces, fierce and scarlet-streaked, seemed
to darken the whole surface of the water and inspired a great fear
in the Spanish garrison. Whichever way the Spanish looked, there was
certitude of a horrible death before them, and so, seized by a sudden
panic, they fled terrified to the woods. But by this time we had landed
below them and blocked their path with the arquebusiers, sending charge
after charge into their ranks and cutting them down without mercy. They
recoiled again in dismay, but the Indians had crawled dripping upon
the beach and were upon them with savage shouts, beating them down
before we could come within sword-thrust. It was with difficulty that
De Gourgues could save the lives of a few; and indeed he had no notion
of sparing them altogether. He only saved them--as he had saved the
others--for another death.
I did not know De Gourgues in the character of blood-letter. He had
lost that cheeriness and buoyancy that had drawn me so closely to him.
Upon his face he wore a look of satisfaction that was a horror to see.
For, vengeance done, a man with any shred of compassion in him must now
and then give vent to some expression to show that his devil craves
a compromise with his God. But not so, De Gourgues. He looked at the
blood about him without pity or compunction, and cast upon those who
had been taken so sour a look that some of them drew shuddering to the
length of their bonds away from him. Even I, accustomed as I had become
to the horrors of carnage, turned away in disgust, for the sights I
saw among the Indians were too savage for description, and the French
were little better. Job Goddard was everywhere in the thickest of the
fighting. And though he had little pity for the Spaniards, he, like
myself, shrank from cutting down disarmed men. Once I saw a fellow whom
he had spared rise upon an elbow and with his last remnant of strength
send his poniard flying at my Englishman. It hit Job fairly in the
upper arm and stuck there quivering. Goddard nonchalantly plucked it
out and put it in his belt saying,
“A good line shot, me friend, but most indifferent elevation. When ye
wish to strike home, _aim high_ me garlic eater, _aim high_! An’ ’tis
no cursed bad advice for a man about stepping across the threshold of
eternity!”
As for me, all this slaughter turned my stomach and I sat apart, for
I had come out for no such business as this; I wanted the butchery
speedily over, and the attack on San Mateo made immediately. Should we
be successful there, I knew that other such scenes would be witnessed,
for De Gourgues had vowed there should be no shadow of difference
between the massacres of Fort Caroline and Fort San Mateo. But in spite
of repugnance at what would follow I hoped and prayed that we might be
victorious. For I felt again the same old passion to be at the throat
of De Baçan. I made my vow that he should die only through a fair test
of skill or strength with me. How I might save him from those red
hell-hounds, our allies, I did not know, but if I could compass it, I
intended to meet him upon even terms. My practise in Pompée’s _salle
d’armes_ should have made my sword-play good enough to cross blades
with him. I scarce know why this haunting desire to fight De Baçan
should have filled me so relentlessly through all these months; and
now since Mademoiselle had not fallen into his hands, I--not he--had
won the game, and the ancient grudge was fitter upon his side of the
balance than upon mine.
But De Gourgues had deferred the attack upon San Mateo until his
preparations could be carefully finished. All the next day we spent in
making ladders to scale the walls; sending orders through Satouriona
and Olotoraca to the Indians, giving them their stations in the forest
and arranging that no movement should be made until a signal was given.
So closely had Satouriona and Tacatacourou watched the Fort, that,
though making no attack and keeping well in the shadows of the forest,
they had succeeded in confining all the Spaniards within their own
lines. Those gentry heard the savage cries resounding through the woods
until their echoes faded away in the distance. There was desperate
work before them and they knew that the sounds of the war-cries and
the barking of the French arquebuses down the river meant a harder
fight than they had ever had before. They judged from the sound of the
shots that the French numbered several thousand. All of this we learned
from a Spanish soldier who ventured out, feathered and painted like an
Indian. He came within the lines of our outposts, but the lynx-eyed
Olotoraca, walking with De Gourgues, spied through his disguise and the
man was seized before he could get away. From him the Avenger learned
that in Fort San Mateo were two hundred and sixty Spaniards under Don
Diego de Baçan. This confirmed the report we had heard. De Baçan was
still there. I feared at this last moment of my quest that some unhappy
accident might have sent him on an errand to San Augustin.
On the evening of the second day after the first assault, De Gourgues,
well pleased and confident that his plans were carefully laid, gave
orders that the Indians should close in upon the fort with all possible
secrecy and lie in wait under the shadows of the trees and bushes
of the hills and river bank. Before the day had broken we were in
marching order and after a hearty meal went up the stream in glittering
ranks, joyful but steady and assured of victory. De Gourgues made no
concealment of our movements, and when we came in view of the Fort we
saw the battlements shining with men in armor and knew that De Baçan
was prepared to receive us. Presently, when within range of their
ordnance they opened fire with their culverins from a projecting
bastion. De Gourgues broke our column and scattered us through the
woods, where their fire had little effect; for here the forest was very
thick and overgrown and afforded a most excellent cover. We marched
to the left, passing through our Indian allies, who lay like snakes
among the undergrowth. We came at last to the top of a small hill, from
which we had a good view of the whole extent of the defenses of Fort
San Mateo. It was plain to be seen that these had been greatly improved
since its capture from Laudonnière.
De Baçan apparently had by this time lost all trace of our whereabouts.
Thinking we had defiled by the river bank, in a moment he sent a strong
party of Spaniards to reconnoitre. They came from their works, crossing
the ditch and, all unconscious, made straight for the clump of woods
in which we lay ensconced. De Gourgues, noting the advantage of his
position, quickly detached Cazenove with a party to station himself
at a point well hidden by trees where he could soon take them in the
flank. The Spaniards, unaware that they were exposing themselves to
this enfilading fire, with a strange insistence which seemed not unlike
infatuation, continued sturdily to advance.
Now it was that the discipline of the arquebusiers of De Gourgues
showed to greatest advantage. He had cautioned them under pain of dire
punishment not to fire before the word of command. In their ardor
they strained forward eagerly, leaning upon their rests, their eyes
glancing down their weapons, their fingers toying lovingly with their
match cords. But not until the Spaniards had come so near that we could
plainly make out their features did the Avenger give the order to fire.
Then a deadly blaze flashed in their faces, almost close enough to burn
them. The shock was terrific; and before its echoes had rumbled up the
river we were upon them through the smoke, slashing and piercing right
and left those who stood their ground, driving those who ran, in dire
confusion, back toward the Fort. But here Cazenove awaited them and
poured in a scorching fire at easy range which still further cut them
down. None escaped. The pikemen of Cazenove charged over them again
and again like demons, and those few who were left threw down their
weapons and fell upon their knees extending their arms and begging for
mercy.
The fight was speedily over, with no loss to us. When we had mounted
the hill again, it was easy to see that consternation reigned in the
Fort. Soldiers ran here and there upon the battlements shouting in
confusion; while men, women and children, uttering piercing screams,
rushed to the gate, battering upon it with their bare fists, trying to
force their way out that they might escape to the forest.
The trumpet of Dariol, sounding the charge, rang out clear above the
din. Never before, it seemed to me, had a battle-blast been sent up so
loud and exultant. It was the signal of De Gourgues. Through thicket
and scrub, down the hill for the Fort, we ran, a very human mounthsoun,
shouting like madmen. Every stump and tree to the right and left of
us seemed to turn by some magic into a painted savage and the air was
filled with their wild screams. De Gourgues, Olotoraca and I reached
the gate at the same moment, followed closely by the more speedy of
the rest. By this time the women and children were running through the
postern, screaming, to the forest. Their fate I like not to think of.
We were after more sturdy game. Most of the soldiers had fled even
before the women, but we saw forty or fifty Spanish arquebusiers formed
in the square by the corps-de-garde for a last resistance. I knew I
should find De Baçan there. Nor was I mistaken; I saw him at the same
moment that he caught sight of me, and we ran forward upon each other
with the same full-hearted hatred that had ever envenomed us. The world
was too small a place for both.
It seemed as though the affair were to be ended one way or the other
then and there. But as luck would have it, Olotoraca, being more swift
of foot, reached him first and began thrusting with his pike. De Baçan
was thus put upon his guard against the Indian and had all that he
could do to parry his furious onslaught. Twice his guard lay open and
I might have thrust him clear through the body, but I could not bring
myself to take such advantage. A nimble fellow rushed at me and all
but caught me off my guard, giving me trouble for some minutes. He was
a most excellent swordsman and fought with desperation. But he tired
easily, and while I played upon the defensive, I watched De Baçan and
Olotoraca out of the tail of my eye. By this time the sword of the
Spaniard was hissing backward and forward like the tongue of a serpent
along the pike of Olotoraca. The Indian had not the skill of a seasoned
pikeman and only made up for his lack of knowledge of the art by his
great suppleness and agility. Suddenly I saw him lunge too far. I beat
the blade of my fellow down and let him go his way, while I made for
De Baçan. The Spaniard seized the pike-handle just behind the head and
pulled the young brave forward, thrusting at the same time, I made a
leap, hoping to parry the thrust of the Spaniard, and partly succeeded,
but the sword point passed through the body of the Paracousi so that he
fell back upon the ground.
Men were fighting all around us, but by some chance we were quite alone
in the shadow of the Corps-de-garde.
“You might have killed me,” he panted--glancing this way and
that,--“why did you not?”
“We are quits then. But it is not too late, Señor de Baçan. On guard!”
Still looking furtively around, he made no motion to raise his bloody
point from the ground, but kept edging away.
“Quick, sir! On guard!” I cried, “or I will run you through!”
He made a sudden leap backward and vanished quickly around the corner
of the building, passing several Frenchmen, and in the confusion
reached the battlements before I could stop him, and with a laugh
sprang out into space. Without so much as looking, I leaped after him
into the mud and water of the river bank. I landed fair up to my knees
and fell over in the water. For a moment I thought my legs had been
driven into my body, but managed to get to my feet in time to see my
enemy rushing for the thicket. In a second I was after him and plunged
through the bushes guided by the gleam of his morion. All around us
were shouts of French and Indians and once we passed a half-score red
men who were dancing around a poor wretch tied to a tree. They saw us
go by and let fly a shower of arrows at both, thinking that I too was
an escaping Spaniard. But they did not follow us; they were enjoying
too horrid a pleasure to leave. We ran thus for some distance, when,
reaching a level space of ground, De Baçan stopped suddenly, awaiting
my coming. He leaned with both hands upon his blade, breathing heavily.
His face was purple from exertion and the sweat poured from his
forehead down his cheeks and into his beard. I was hard put myself for
breath and came forward cautiously.
“Again! Señor Pirato,” he sneered, with a kind of a laugh.
“For the last time,--Señor Spaniard!” I said approaching.
“For the last time? Ah! then you do grant I am the better skilled at
sword-play?”
“Let us settle the matter at once,” said I, bringing my point into line.
“One moment!” he said craftily. “When I kill you, what will become of
Mademoiselle?”
I saw his object. He sought to unsteady my nerves. But I only laughed
at him.
“Mademoiselle is in the hands of her friends, Señor.--Come now! Enough!
You have your wind. Fall to, or I will run you through!”
I threw off my morion to keep my brow cool. And while in the very act
of tossing it aside he leaped for me, engaging with such incomparable
swiftness that I broke ground and gave back ten--twenty paces--under
his fierce assault. I held my own with great trouble. But he saw no
sign of it, upon my face and it is my pride that I ever looked coldly
in his eyes, fearless and confident. Once he grazed my arm and with
flashing eye sprang forward to follow his advantage; but I met him
with so shrewd a guard and thrust that he drew back, looking at me
in surprise. We heard indistinctly the cries of the soldiers and the
Indians at the fort, and now and then a wild yell would start the
echoes in the forest near us. But we fought on, our eyes looking into
each other’s, glittering and more piercing even than the swords we
wielded. Shouting was now most plainly to be heard in the direction
from which we had come. I heard Job Goddard’s whistle and a cheery cry.
“Keep him at work, sir! we are with you in a minute!” Diego’s eyes
looked over my shoulder.
“Unless you hurry, Don Diego,” I said, coolly bantering him, “there
will be little time for this exhibition of sword-play you have promised
me.”
I knew could I get him angry that I might have the better advantage.
“Bah!” he cried, furious. “Coward! you cannot fight your battles for
yourself!”
“I am holding my own!” I smiled.
I know not just why it was, but strive as he might, he could get no
advantage. I have no memory of ever having used my sword so well. Quick
as he was, my hand was ever quicker and my eye seemed by the look of
his own to divine his thrust before he made it. The sounds of the
voices grew louder and louder each moment and seemed to be near the
edge of the wood. The look in the eyes of De Baçan became uncertain.
He had tried upon me every feint and thrust he knew, and there I still
stood before him smiling and confident. It was not fear that he felt,
for I believe the man feared nothing on earth--or above it--or below.
It was an expression rather of wonder and curiosity as if at the last
he saw in me the image of vengeance come to bring him, in spite of his
prowess, the retribution he so amply deserved. Twice he had had me in
his power, my death hanging by a web so fine that he could have blasted
it by the breath from his lips,--and still I lived.
[Illustration: “QUICK AS HE WAS, MY HAND WAS EVER QUICKER.”]
All of this I saw in his look. I smiled at him again, and that
infuriated him the more. Scorning all thought of defense, he crouched
his head and came for me desperately--his feints and thrusts were
quicker than thought itself, and my eye, bewildered, could no longer
follow the motions. He caught the point of my blade near the hilt of
his own, and with a quick back stroke of the wrist sent it flying down,
the handle almost out of my fingers. I clutched it again, bringing it
up to the guard. But he had sprung in and thrust me through the thigh.
At this moment there was an outcry upon our left, and De Brésac, with
some of my seamen, came running forward.
“Good-by, Sir Pirato!” laughed De Baçan. “I have no time to finish
this----” and turning, he made for the opposite side of the clearing.
I shouted at the top of my lungs and made a leap after him, but fell
prone to the earth. He made for a hole in the thicket, and I thought
must surely go free.
But while I looked, a number of dusky figures sprang up all around
him, and I saw them leap upon him like hounds upon a stag. He threw
his arms out wildly, and one of the savages who bounded into the air,
was skewered upon his sword, while another fell away from him into
the bushes as though he had been tossed by an ox. The Spaniard was
making a wonderful fight, but the Indians, infuriated by the fall of
Olotoraca, went rushing fiercely forward crying that he should not
escape. One of them pinioned his left arm to his body, and hung with
a death-like clutch around his legs. Before Satouriona reached them,
another, more successful than the others, sprang upon the back of De
Baçan, and, brushing off his morion, struck again and again upon the
bare head with his hatchet. When the hollow dulness of the strokes fell
upon my ear, I knew that the end had come. He swayed back and forth a
moment, striving to keep his feet, unwilling to relinquish his hold
upon life, fighting even when death had come; then, with a groan like
that of some hunted animal, turned half around and sank to the ground,
dead where he had stood.
When he had fallen the savages fell upon the prostrate body like
wolves, tearing at the clothing, and would have beaten him with their
war clubs as he lay, had not De Brésac and Satouriona come up. I cried
out to them that it was the Commandante of the Fort whom they had
killed. De Brésac was among them, striking with the flat of his sword,
and crying:
“Stop! you dogs! Away with you! Stop! I say!” He stood over the body
with his drawn sword while they glowered at him, and would have struck
him down had not Satouriona come between. At last the Paracousi, with
a few words, sent them away, their gruesome fancies ungratified.
It was a dog’s death for so valiant a man--pulled down like some wild
beast of the forest. When I had been carried to where the body lay, De
Brésac and I vowed he should have a decent burial. I hated him, and
hate him now. But it was a passion made great by the intensity of it,
and I could not bear that the majesty of his prowess should be dimmed
by any ignominy at his death. De Brésac, fearing to bury him in the
knowledge of the Indians, gave orders to the seamen that he should
be taken to Fort San Mateo. When I had bound up my leg, thither we
presently repaired, I leaning upon the arms of Job Goddard and Brésac.