EARLY FRENCH SETTLERS IN NORTH AMERICA, AND THEIR STRUGGLE
WITH THE SPANISH IN FLORIDA.
THE work begun by Vasco Nuñez de Balboa in the great journey already
related, which terminated so disastrously for himself, was completed
in 1522 by the sailing round the globe of one of the ships of the
Magellan expedition, thus proving the existence of a southern oceanic
passage to the East, and stimulating the eagerness with which the
European nations sought to find a shorter north-western route. The
French, hitherto indifferent to what was going on in the New World,
seem now to have been suddenly aroused to a sense of the fact that the
English, Portuguese, and Spanish were contending, not, as was at first
supposed, for the possession of scattered and unimportant islands,
but for that of a vast continent of as yet undetermined extent; and
Francis I., then smarting under the loss of the Imperial Crown he had
so eagerly coveted, resolved to make up for the priority of his rivals
in the field by new discoveries in the North. “Why,” he is reported to
have said, “should the Kings of Spain and Portugal divide all America
between them without suffering me to take a share as their brother? I
would fain see the article in Adam’s will that bequeaths that vast
inheritance to them.”
The first result of this new interest in the affairs of the West was
the fitting out of an expedition, consisting of four ships, under the
command of Giovanni Verrazano, a native of Florence, already mentioned.
Of these four vessels, three were disabled almost before they set sail,
leaving to the sole survivor, the _Dauphine_, the whole burden of the
trip. In that vessel Verrazano left the Madeiras in January, 1524,
with the intention of reaching the American coast somewhere above
Florida, and thence sailing due north till he came to the North-West
Passage.
The first part of this programme was duly carried out, the _Dauphine_
having made land about 34° N. lat., whence she cruised down the coast
in search of a harbor some two hundred leagues, thus passing the most
northerly point visited by the Spaniards. The natives of the coasts,
belonging probably to the same race as those who had so hospitably
received De Ayllon before his real character appeared, crowded to
the beach to stare at what must have seemed to them a strange monster
of the deep; and when they found the “monster” was, after all, the
servant of men such as themselves, they beckoned their visitors to
land.
Illustration: MOUTH OF THE HUDSON RIVER.
One sailor alone had the courage to respond to the invitation, and he
was nearly drowned in attempting to swim to the shore. Picked up in an
exhausted condition by the Indians, he was, however, restored by their
tender treatment. Fires were lighted, by which his clothes were dried;
and when he was completely restored, he was allowed to return to his
comrades, who had all the while been watching the proceedings on shore
in horror-struck silence, expecting the lighting of the fires to be
the preliminary of a human sacrifice. In the hands of a true leader
of men this little episode might have been made the foundation of
lasting and, eventually, beneficial relations between the Indians and
their guests. Verrazano, however, was no exception to the explorers
of his day; he rewarded those who had saved the life of his sailor
by carrying off a young boy as a slave, and then, weighing anchor,
he set sail with his solitary prize for the North, arriving, after a
long cruise, in what is supposed to have been the harbor of New York.
Then, as now, though its aspect is so materially changed, the mouth of
the Hudson presented a beautiful appearance, with what are now known
as Staten and Long Islands on one side, and the magnificent sheet
of water flowing into the sea on the other. Instead of the stately
vessels and trim little gun-boats which now guard the approach to the
capital of the Metropolis, Indian canoes were shooting here and there
on the sunlighted waters, their rowers pausing again and again to look
at the strange intruder from the South.
Verrazano remained at anchor off the mouth of the Hudson for about
fifteen days, receiving visits on board from the natives――a kindly,
cheerful race, with regular features, clear complexions, long,
straight hair, and good figures. Then steering up the shores of New
England for some forty or fifty leagues, he came to the harbor of
Nova Scotia, where he would gladly have rested awhile, but finding
his provisions failing him, and the Indians meeting his advances with
coldness and suspicion, he turned the _Dauphine’s_ head eastward-ho,
arriving at Dieppe after an absence of only six months.
Illustration: JACQUES CARTIER.
More important was the work done by Verrazano’s successor, Jacques
Cartier, of St. Malo, who, at the instigation of Admiral ♦Cabot, was
sent out in April, 1534, with two ships of about 130 men, by Francis
I., with orders to found a colony somewhere in the North-west. Acting
on these somewhat vague instructions, Cartier first made the land at
Bona Vista Bay (N. lat. 48° 50′, W. long. 53° 20′), on the eastern
coast of Newfoundland. With a knowledge of geography scarcely to have
been expected at that early date, Cartier lost no time in steering,
first north and then north-west, for the straits of Belle Isle,
dividing Newfoundland from the Mainland; and, though his course was
considerably impeded by the ice, he passed without accident into the
Gulf of St. Lawrence, crossing which, in a south-westerly direction,
he entered a bay on the coast of Canada, which he named Chaleur (N.
lat. 49° 55′, W. long. 65° 25′), on account of the heat.
♦ ‘Chabot’ replaced with ‘Cabot’
Landing on the shores of what he describes as an inviting country
――though the natives were half-naked savages, living on raw fish
and flesh, and with no houses but the canoe tents already noticed in
speaking of the discoveries of the Northmen――Cartier took possession
of the land in the name of the King of France, setting up a huge
cross upon the beach, with the _Fleur de Lys_ carved upon it, in spite
of the deprecatory gestures of the natives, who well knew what the
proceeding portended.
By dint of the exercise of a good deal more tact than was usually
shown by early explorers, Cartier disarmed the suspicions of the
natives, and even persuaded their chief to allow him to take his two
sons, Taignoagny and Domagaia, to France, for which country he sailed
shortly afterward, to report progress and receive further instructions.
Illustration: CARTIER’S SHIP.
Pleased with the description given of the new country, Francis I. sent
Cartier back in the following spring with three well-manned vessels
under his command, and full powers to plant French colonies wherever
he chose, also to prosecute the search for a short cut to the East,
and to convert the natives to the true faith.
With the two Indian lads――whose full confidence he seems to have
won――beside him on the deck of the foremost vessel, the future founder
of Quebec arrived at the mouth of a large river, the St. Lawrence
of the present day, on the 10th August, 1534; and being informed
by the natives that its name was Hochelaga, and that it came from a
far country which no man had ever seen, he determined to ascend it,
thinking that it might perhaps be that strait leading to the Indian
Ocean which had so long been sought in vain.
Naming the new river the St. Lawrence, in honor of the saint on whose
festival day he first entered it, Cartier made his way slowly over
its broad waters till he came to the point at which it receives the
Saguenay, beyond which he anchored off a little island, which he
called the Isle aux Coudres, on account of the hazel-trees abounding
on it. Eight leagues further on, the island now known as the Isle
d’Orleans was reached, and here the natives, reassured by the sight of
their two fellow-countrymen, flocked on deck, eager to hear of their
adventures in the strange land beyond the sea. Delighted with their
accounts of the kindness shown them in France, Donnacona, the chief or
lord of Saguenay, embraced Cartier, and swore eternal friendship with
him and his people, little dreaming that the advent of the French
meant the death of his own race as a nation.
Illustration: ISLANDS AT THE MOUTH OF THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER.
From the Isle d’Orleans the French vessel sailed on, past the mouth
of the St. Croix, now the St. Charles, to the village of Stadacona,
on the site of the modern Quebec; thence, undeterred by various
stratagems of the natives, intended to intimidate the explorers, to
the more important town of Hochelaga, where Montreal now stands; and
then past Huron, a settlement of some fifty huts, inclosed within a
triple barrier of palisades.
Landing at Hochelaga, among crowds of gesticulating natives, Cartier
and his chief followers were led into the public square, where they
were at once beset by women and girls, who brought children in their
arms to be touched by the white men from beyond the sea. In the center
of the square lay the king of the land, Agouhanna, a martyr to the
terrible disease of paralysis. Looking up into the face of his visitor,
the monarch, with pathetic confidence in his omnipotence, begged
that he might be freed from his sufferings; and Cartier, touched by
the appeal, kneeled down and rubbed the poor shrunken limbs of the
sufferer, receiving in return for the momentary relief thus afforded
a present of the royal sufferer’s own crown of porcupine quills.
The ready help given to their leader was the signal for the bringing
into the market-place by the natives of all the lame, halt, blind, and
aged; and Cartier, finding himself the center of an eager group, could
think of nothing better to do than to pray for them all, so he read
them a chapter from the Bible, and then kneeled down and addressed a
petition to Heaven on their behalf in his own language, the Indians
imitating every gesture, under the idea that some magic spell was
being performed. We can imagine their disappointment when no immediate
result ensued from the ceremony; and we are glad that the explorer
showed so much consideration for their ignorance as to distribute
presents of knives, beads, rings, etc., among them, which, we are told,
they received with joy.
This town of Hochelaga, which is so prominent in Cartier’s narrative,
disappeared from history soon after his day; whether it was
annihilated under the attack of some rival tribe, or destroyed through
some tremendous physical convulsion, history does not tell us. But
its name has been revived, and invested with a new interest, in our
day; for the geologist――as truly an explorer as the geographer――has
been busy upon the site of the ancient town, and has discovered many
valuable remains of its strange, forgotten life, which confirm and
complete the account given by Cartier. Principal Dawson, of Montreal,
in his book on _Fossil Men_, tells us that he has in his possession
from 150 to 200 fragments of earthen vessels found upon the spot where
Hochelaga stood; and there is abundant evidence to prove that its
inhabitants were people of no mean mechanical skill. For instance,
traces have been found of pots, in the necks of which are appliances
for suspending them, so that the suspending cord might not be burned.
Various relics testify also to their artistic feeling, most notable
among which are tobacco-pipes, upon which much fine work must have
been spent; their peculiar attention to the pipe being perhaps
traceable rather to their reverence for the worship in which it
had an important place, than to the lighter fancy which dotes upon
meerschaums now-a-days. Their food was that which their surroundings
provided; and Dr. Dawson says that, among the remains excavated,
bones of nearly all the wild mammals have been found, as well as of
numerous birds and fishes. Suspicions of cannibalism are roused by the
discovery of part of a woman’s jaw among kitchen refuse; and these are,
perhaps, increased by the fact that the Hochelagan skulls which have
been discovered bespeak a temperament undoubtedly fierce and cruel;
but on this point there is nothing to lead to certain conclusions. It
might be interesting to follow out this wonderful story of Hochelagan
life further, but to do so here would be aside from the purpose of
this chapter, and we therefore content ourselves with adding, that
there are not wanting traces of a religious sense, simple and rude it
may be, but real and even beautiful, among the Canadians of Cartier’s
day; while the tokens which accompany the dead are such as to show
that the hope of immortality had shed its soft light upon their hearts.
Illustration: MONTREAL.
Naming a hill overlooking Hochelaga Mont Royal――hence the modern name
of Montreal――in memory of his visit, Cartier soon returned to the
mouth of the St. Charles, where he established his winter quarters
and remained until the spring, when, having invited Donnacona and nine
other natives on board his vessel, he set sail for France, carrying
them with him. All but one little girl died soon after the arrival of
the fleet at St. Malo, in July, 1536; but their captain considered he
had more than repaid them for their sufferings by their admission into
the Roman Catholic Church before the end, and was undeterred by any
fear of vengeance for his cruelty to them from undertaking, in 1540,
yet another trip to Canada, as the new country was now beginning to be
called.
The new expedition consisted of five vessels, and was originally
placed under the command of Jean François de la Roque, Seigneur de
Roberval of Picardy; but at the last moment, for reasons variously
given, he requested Cartier to take his place. Arrived for a third
time at his old anchorage off Stadacona, Cartier was at first well
received by the natives, who expected now to welcome back their chief
and his warriors; but when they heard that they were dead, grief and
horror filled their hearts. No longer were they willing to look upon
the white men as their brethren, or to aid their settlement among
them; and though no open hostilities were resorted to, Cartier found
his position throughout the winter so very far from pleasant, that
he set sail for France as soon as the weather permitted, meeting De
Roberval with reinforcements for the colony――which ought to have been
founded――in the harbor of St. John’s, Newfoundland.
The Sieur de Roberval, indignant at the failure of his deputy, ordered
him to return to the St. Lawrence at once, but Cartier continued
his course to his native land in the night, leaving the original
commander of the expedition to complete his work as best he could.
The new-comers sailed up the St. Lawrence as far as the St. Charles,
but De Roberval was almost immediately recalled to France to aid his
sovereign in his struggle with Charles V.; and though he left thirty
of his men behind him, they failed to gain any real foothold in the
country, and returned home in the ensuing spring, some say under the
escort of Cartier himself, who was sent to their relief.
Thus, ruined on the very eve of success by a petty act of oppression,
ended alike the first attempt at colonization by the French in North
America and the first exploration of the St. Lawrence, which, though
it formed no short cut to the Indies, was yet destined, as the largest
body of fresh water in the world, to play a mighty part in history as
a highway from the coast to the interior of North America.
Illustration: COLIGNY.
Very different to that of any of his predecessors was the character
of our next hero of North American discovery. Driven to bay in France
by the long series of treacheries and cruelties which culminated in
the awful massacre of St. Bartholomew on the 24th of August, 1572,
the French Huguenots hoped to find in the New World a refuge from
religious persecution; and after the failure of an attempt to found
a colony in Rio Janeiro in 1555, the good Admiral Coligny sent out an
expedition to that “long coast of the West India called La Florida,”
under the command of John Ribault, of Dieppe.
Trained in the stern school of adversity, Ribault started on his
voyage prepared to face any amount of danger and privation in carrying
out his mission of founding a little Huguenot Church in the wilderness.
He was accompanied by many heretic noblemen imbued with the same
spirit, and by a little band of well-tried troops. After a stormy
voyage, the little fleet came in sight of the coast of Florida, in
about N. lat. 29½°, on the 27th April, 1562, and, after a brief halt,
sailed northward till it reached the mouth of “a goodly and great
river,” the modern St. John’s, to which the name of the “River of May”
was in the first case given.
Entering the River of May in high delight with the beauty of the
scenery lining its banks, the French refugees landed at a little
distance from the sea, and set up a stone column bearing the arms of
France, on a little hill overlooking the south bank, in token that the
land henceforth belonged to his Majesty of France. The natives, who
are described as “mild and courteous, well-shaped, of goodly stature,
dignified, self-possessed, and of pleasant countenance,” gazed with
wonder, but with no notion of its significance, on the strange pillar
set up among them; and leaving it as the sole token of their visit,
the Frenchmen pressed on up the coast, passing one river after another,
till they came, on the 27th May, to the beautiful harbor of Port Royal,
near the southern boundary of the present Carolina, where Ribault
determined to plant a colony.
A fort was erected to begin with, and named Fort Charles, or Carolina,
in honor of Charles IX. of France; and leaving thirty of his men,
under the command of an experienced soldier named Pierria, to
form the nucleus of a settlement, Ribault returned to France for
reinforcements. On his arrival in his native land, however, he found
his co-religionists in greater distress than ever, and not until after
the peace of 1562 was the good Coligny able to devote any attention to
the affairs of the emigrants in the West.
In 1564 three ships were sent out to their relief, under the command
of Captain René de Laudonnière, who had been with Ribault on his first
trip; but on his arrival at the River of May, he was met with the
intelligence that Fort Charles had been abandoned, and by degrees the
whole story of the sufferings of his predecessors leaked out. Relying
on Ribault’s promise of speedy reinforcements, and missing his bracing
influence, the unlucky Huguenots forgot all about the primary object
of their exile, the founding of a church in the wilderness, and gave
themselves up to indolence and luxury. As a result, their provisions
quickly failed, and, though the Indians befriended them to the best of
their ability, they began to succumb to famine. Discontent and mutiny
ensued; Pierria was assassinated in revenge for the severe discipline
he endeavored to maintain, and his successor, Nicolas Barre,
determined to build a small pinnace, in which to return to France.
With infinite difficulty this plan was carried out. A vessel of some
kind was constructed, and in it, with no provisions but a little
corn given by the natives, the survivors embarked. For three weeks
they tossed about at the mercy of the waves, unable to make any
considerable progress eastward; and then, all the corn being consumed,
they resorted to the awful expedient of obtaining food by slaying one
of their number. Lots were drawn, and the ghastly ceremony resulted in
the murder of a certain La Chère, a soldier who had been pre-eminent
in insubordination under Captain Pierria, and banished by him to an
island outside Port Royal, had been rescued by his comrades, only to
meet with a yet more awful fate than death by starvation.
Soon after the awful banquet, the blood-stained cannibals――for such
had the zealous sufferers for the Huguenot faith now become――were met
by an English vessel and taken on board, some to be landed in France,
others to be carried prisoners to England.
Convinced of the truth of the story told by the Indians of the
desertion of Fort Charles, Laudonnière abandoned his scheme of going
there, and resolved instead to found a colony on the May; and for
this purpose he selected a spot near the mouth of that river, which
is now known as St. John’s Bluff. Again a fort was built, to which
the now ill-fated name of Carolina was once more given. Again the
colonists contented themselves with preparing for imaginary enemies,
and neglected to provide against the attacks of famine and fever.
Strength and means were wasted in fruitless expeditions in search of
that Apalachen, so long the _ignis fatuus_ of explorers in Florida,
where gold in plenty was ever sought but never found. Moreover,
among Laudonnière’s men were many reckless adventurers, who, not
content with rousing the wrath of the peacefully disposed Indians by
unprovoked assaults upon them, varied their occupations by piracies
against the Spaniards of the Gulf of Mexico. Retaliations ensued,
until at last the colonists, with enemies rising up on every side,
were reduced to the greatest extremities.
In vain did Laudonnière endeavor to stem the current of adverse
circumstances; in vain did he strive, by example and by precept, to
inaugurate a new policy, by tilling the ground for future support,
and conciliating the Indians, with a view to obtaining present
supplies. His men, desperate with hunger, clamored for him to seize a
neighboring chief, and hold him as a hostage, till his people ransomed
him with corn; and finally, though much against his own judgment,
Laudonnière yielded.
Outina, a chieftain of high repute, was carried off, and imprisoned in
Fort Carolina. His subjects, at first furious, appeared to acquiesce
in the situation, and offered the coveted ransom in corn, to be
fetched from a distant village by the Frenchmen. The famished
Huguenots fell into the snare. Instead of granaries of the staff of
life they found an ambuscade of armed natives, and, after a long and
bloody fight, they returned to their camp with diminished numbers, and
no trophies of a hard-earned victory but two small bags of corn.
Death now stared the colony in the face, and probably every member
of it must have perished miserably, had not Sir John Hawkins, first
of the long list of Englishmen who have disgraced their nationality
as dealers in slaves, touched at the fort on his way home from a
successful cruise. The wealth he had won in his traffic in human flesh
enabled Hawkins not only to relieve the present necessities of the
French, but to give them a vessel in which to return home; and they
were on the eve of a joyful embarkation, when our old friend Ribault
appeared on the scene with fresh emigrants and plentiful stores of
every variety.
A new era seemed now likely to be ushered in, but its inauguration was
saddened by the humiliation of Laudonnière, whose vigorous efforts to
carry out the original intentions of his employer, Admiral Coligny,
had been misrepresented in France by certain of his insubordinate
followers, whom he had sent home in disgrace, and forgotten. When the
first enthusiasm at the arrival of his fellow-countryman had subsided,
the one man who had striven to avert the evils which had befallen
the colony learned that Ribault had come out to supersede him in his
command. The fact that the new governor was quickly convinced of the
injustice of the charges brought against Laudonnière, and begged him
to remain with him as a friend, and to retain the command of Fort
Carolina, appears to have done little to soothe the wounded spirit of
our hero. He had resolved to return to France at once and stand his
trial, when one of those sudden changes in the aspect of affairs, to
which early settlements in America have ever been subject, held him to
his post.
As we have seen in our previous chapter, the Spanish looked upon
Florida, which they took to include the whole of America north of
the Gulf of Mexico, as their own peculiar property. The news of the
establishment of a settlement of French Protestants in their territory
was, therefore, received with a burst of indignation, to which it
was difficult to say whether cupidity, religious zeal, or national
jealousy most contributed.
After the failure of the expedition of De Luna to Florida in 1561,
a certain Pedro Menendez had been appointed by the Spanish monarch
to the government of Florida, on the condition of his subduing it
in three years. He now received orders to hasten the start of his
expedition, and to add to his scheme the destruction of the colony
of French heretics.
The rejoicings at the arrival of Ribault were still going on among the
unconscious settlers on the May, when the fleet of Menendez was seen
creeping into the harbor. A messenger sent to inquire whence it came,
and what it wanted, received the laconic answer that Pedro Menendez
was in command, and had come, in obedience to the orders of his
sovereign, to “burn and destroy such Lutheran French as should be in
his dominions.”
Of Ribault’s fleet of seven vessels, three were just then absent
on a trip up the river, and not daring to meet the Spaniards with
only four, the French commander was compelled to put out to sea with
them, leaving his colony totally unprotected. From a safe distance
he watched his enemies disembark a little to the north of his own
settlement, intending, so soon as they were involved in all the
confusion of a march through an unknown country, to fall upon their
rear and destroy them. But, alas! at the critical moment a terrible
storm came on, dispersing the French vessels, and leaving the women,
the children, and the disabled in Fort Carolina at the mercy of the
ruthless Spaniards.
A terrible massacre ensued, from which but a few, including
Laudonnière, escaped, and got on board the only two vessels which
had not been wrecked, in which they at once put to sea, arriving
in due time in France, to tell the awful tidings of the fate of
their comrades. The French Government took but little notice of the
matter――for were not the sufferers heretics?――and the Huguenots,
though beside themselves with rage, were unable to send any adequate
force to avenge their co-religionists, until two years later, when the
services were secured of Dominique de Gourgues and 150 men.
Before any reinforcements arrived in Florida, therefore, fresh horrors
were enacted. Menendez, having obtained intelligence from the Indians
that a number of Frenchmen were still alive on Anastasia Island, a
little to the south, where they had taken refuge on the destruction
of their vessel, hastened to the spot, and, after a short parley,
induced the Frenchmen to surrender themselves unconditionally into
his hands. Then, having weeded out from among them the few who
professed themselves to be Catholics, and two or three craftsmen
whose services he required, he had them all hewn down before his eyes.
This new atrocity over, he returned to Florida, but, being met by
the intelligence that Ribault himself, with a little remnant of his
immediate followers, had survived, and was now probably on the scene
of the massacre of his fellow-countrymen, he hurried back to Anastasia
to complete his bloody work.
Knowing what he had to expect, Ribault gathered his men about him, and
received his executioners with quiet dignity. Asked were he and his
companions Catholics or Lutherans, he replied simply that they were
all of the Reformed religion, that from the dust they had come and
to the dust they must return; twenty years more or less could matter
but little; the Adelantado could do with them as he chose. Again the
men who might be of use to him in his work of colonization were led
apart by Menendez, again the signal for the massacre was given, again
the triumphant cries of the victors were mingled with the groans of
the dying; and when all was over, Menendez, with the consciousness
of having done his duty, returned thanks to God, and retired to his
head-quarters to send home to his king an account of the triumph of
the true faith.
Scenes of bloodshed were now exchanged for the peaceful work of
founding a Spanish colony. The site chosen was in N. lat. 29° 51′, W.
long. 81° 30′, some miles north of the ill-fated Fort Carolina, and
was named St. Augustine, because the Spanish fleet had first come in
sight of Florida on the festival day of that saint. The boundaries
of the settlement were carefully marked out under the supervision
of Menendez himself, and though its foundations were laid in blood,
it grew with a rapidity hitherto unequaled, and bid fair to be the
first permanent settlement of Europeans in North America. The past was
forgotten, and not more unconscious of their coming doom than the poor
colonists of Carolina were the Spaniards of St. Augustine, when once
more a little fleet appeared upon the coast of Florida, coming, not
this time from the South, but from the North; for De Gourgues, with
the foresight of a true soldier, had paused to secure the friendship
of the Indians of the May before venturing to approach the Spanish
camp.
The outposts of the Spaniards were surprised, the sentinels were slain
at their posts, and a force of four hundred men sent out by Menendez
against the enemy was completely destroyed, those taken prisoners
being hanged on the very trees on which some of the Frenchmen of
Carolina had suffered the same fate at the hands of the Spaniards.
With this retribution, however, De Gourgues――who, it must be
remembered, was acting without the authority of his government
――appears to have been content. He made no descent upon St. Augustine
itself; but having destroyed the forts whose garrisons he had
massacred, he bade his Indian allies farewell, and left the country.
But his work had been more thorough than he knew himself, for the
natives, who had hitherto looked upon the Spaniards as invincible,
had seen them fall an easy prey to the French, and the remainder of
the career of Menendez was one long struggle against the treacherous
schemes of the red men. His efforts at exploration on the North
were unsuccessful; the missionaries whom he induced to land on the
north-western shores of Florida were led into ambush, and massacred by
the natives; and though summary vengeance was exacted for their fate,
the enmity of the Indians continued to hamper all the movements of the
Spaniards.
To complete the story of early settlements in Florida, we may add
that for thirty years St. Augustine was the only European colony north
of the Gulf of Mexico, and that in 1586 a visit was paid to it by
Sir Francis Drake, who found it under the command of Pedro Menendez,
nephew of its founder, who is thought to have been the first European
to enter Chesapeake Bay. The English being at this date very bitter
against the Spanish, Drake thought it a pious duty to carry off the
treasure and burn the houses of St. Augustine, the inhabitants of
which fled at his approach, with the exception of a certain Frenchman,
a fifer, who had been one of the few spared in the massacres of
Anastasia, and who now came to meet the English “in a little boate,
playing on his Phiph the tune of the Prince of Orange his song.”
Illustration: VIEW ON THE COAST OF FLORIDA.