CHAPTER I.

THE

LILY AND THE TOTEM,

OR,

THE HUGUENOTS IN FLORIDA.

A SERIES OF SKETCHES, PICTURESQUE AND HISTORICAL, OF THE

COLONIES OF COLIGNI, IN NORTH AMERICA.

1562-1570.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "LIFE OF MARION,"

"LIFE OF BAYARD" ETC.

NEW YORK:

BAKER AND SCRIBNER,

145 NASSAU STREET AND 36 PARK ROW.

1850.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by

W. GILMORE SIMMS, ESQ.

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States

for the Southern District of New York.

C. W. BENEDICT,

_Stereotyper_,

201 William st.

EPISTLE DEDICATORY.

TO THE

HON. JAMES H. HAMMOND,

OF

SOUTH CAROLINA.

MY DEAR HAMMOND:

I very well know the deep interest which you take in all researches

which aim to develope the early history of our State and country, and

sympathize with you very sincerely in that local feeling which delights

to trace, on your own grounds, and in your own neighborhood, the

doubtful progresses of French and Spaniard, in their wild passion for

adventure or eager appetite for gold. I have no doubt that the clues are

in your hands which shall hereafter conduct you along a portion of the

route pursued by that famous cavalier, Hernando de Soto; and I am almost

satisfied that the region of Silver Bluff was that distinguished in the

adventures of the Spanish Adelantado, by the presence of that dusky but

lovely princess of Cofachiqui, who welcomed him with so much favor

and whom he treated with an ingratitude as unhandsome as unknightly.

But I must not dwell on a subject go seductive; particularly, as I

entertain the hope, in some future labor, to weave her legend into

an appropriate, and I trust not unworthy history. For the present,

inscribing these pages to you, as a memorial of a long and grateful

intimacy, and of inquiries and conjectures, musings and meditations,

enjoyed together, which, it is my hope, have resulted no less profitably

to you than to myself, I propose briefly to give you the plan of the

volume in your hands.

The design of the narrative which follows, contemplates, in nearly equal

degree, the picturesque and the historical. It belongs to a class of

writings with which the world has been long since made familiar, through

a collection of the greatest interest, the body of which continues to

expand, and which has been entitled the "Romance of History." This name

will justly apply to the present sketches, yet must not be construed to

signify any large or important departure, in the narrative, from the

absolute records of the Past. The romance here is not suffered to

supersede the history. On the contrary, the design of the writer has

been simply to supply the deficiencies of the record. Where the author,

in this species of writing, has employed history, usually, as a mere

loop, upon which to hang his lively fancies and audacious inventions,

embodying in his narrative as small a portion of the chronicle as

possible, I have been content to reverse the process, making the fiction

simply tributary, and always subordinate to the fact. I have been

studious to preserve all the vital details of the event, as embodied in

the record, and have only ventured my own "graffings" upon it in those

portions of the history which exhibited a certain baldness in their

details, and seemed to demand the helping agency of art. In thus

interweaving the history with the fiction, I have been solicitous always

of those proprieties and of that _vraisemblance_, in the introduction

of new details, which are essential to the chief characteristics of the

history; seeking equally to preserve the general integrity of the record

from which I draw my materials, and of that art which aims to present

them in a costume the most picturesque. My labor has been not to make,

but to perfect, a history; not to invent facts, but to trace them out

to seemingly inevitable results;--to take the premise and work out the

problem;--recognize the meagre record which affords simply a general

outline; and endeavor, by a severe induction, to supply its details and

processes. I have been at no such pains to disguise the chronicle,

as will prevent the reader from separating,--should he desire to do

so,--the _certain_ from the _conjectural_; and yet, I trust, that I have

succeeded in so linking the two together, as to prevent the lines of

junction from obtruding themselves offensively upon his consciousness.

Upon the successful prosecution of this object, apart from the native

interest which the subject itself possesses, depends all the merit of

the performance. It is by raising the tone of the history, warming it

with the hues of fancy, and making it dramatic by the continued exercise

of art, rather than by any actual violation of its recorded facts, that

I have endeavored to awaken interest. To bring out such portions of the

event as demand elevation--to suppress those which are only cumbrous,

and neither raise the imposing, nor relieve the unavoidable; and to

supply, from the _probable_, the apparent deficiencies of the _actual_,

have been the chief processes in the art which I have employed. What is

wholly fictitious will appear rather as episodical matter, than as a

part of the narrative; and a brief historical summary, even in regard

to the episode, shall occasionally be employed to determine, for the

reader, upon how much, or how little, he may properly rely as history.

The experiment of Coligny, in colonizing Florida, is one of those

remarkable instances in the early settlement of this country, which

deserve the particular attention of our people. Its wild and dark

events, its startling tragedies, its picturesque and exciting incidents,

long since impressed themselves upon my imagination, as offering

suitable materials for employment in romantic fiction. In the

preparation of the work which follows, I have rather yielded to the

requisitions of publishers and the public, than followed the suggestions

of my own taste and judgment. Originally, I commenced the treatment

of this material, in the form of poetry; but the stimulus to a

keen prosecution of the task was wanting: not so much, perhaps, in

consequence of my own diminished interest in the subject, as because of

the indifference of readers; who, in all periods have determined the

usual direction of the writer. Hereafter, I may prosecute the experiment

upon this history in still another fashion. I do not regard this work as

precluding me from trying the malleability of its subject, and from

seeking to force it into a mould more grateful to the dictates of my

imagination. In abandoning the design, however, of shaping it to the

form of narrative poetry, I may, at least, submit to the reader such

portions of the verse as are already written. My purpose, as will be

seen, by the fragmentary passages which follow (in the _Appendix_ at the

close of the volume) was to seize upon the strong points of the subject,

and exhibit the whole progress of the action, in so many successive

scenes; as in the plan adopted by Rogers in his "Columbus"--the one

scene naturally forming the introduction to the other, and the whole, a

complete and single history. To these fragments let me refer you. With

these, my original design found its limit; the spirit which had urged me

thus far, no longer quickening me with that impatient eagerness which

can alone justify poetic labors. The plan is one which I am no longer

likely to pursue. It will no doubt have a place of safe-keeping and

harborage in some one of Astolpho's mansions. It need not be deplored on

earth. I shall be but too happy if those who read the performance which

follows, shall forbear the wish that it had shared the same destiny. To

you, at least, I venture to commend it with a very different hope.

Very truly yours, as ever,

THE AUTHOR.

CHARLESTON, S. C., }

_May 1, 1850_. }

CONTENTS.

I.

The First Voyage of Ribault, 1

II.

The Colony under Albert, 29

III.

The Legend of Guernache, Chap. I. 37

IV.

The Legend of Guernache, Chap. II. 44

V.

The Legend of Guernache, Chap. III. 59

VI.

The Legend of Guernache, Chap. IV. 71

VII.

Lachane, the Deliverer, 81

VIII.

Flight, Famine, and the Bloody Feast of the Fugitives, 100

IX.

The Second Expedition of the Huguenots to Florida, 110

X.

Historical Summary, 123

XI.

The Conspiracy of Le Genré--Historical Summary, 131

XII.

The Conspiracy of Le Genré, 133

XIII.

Historical Summary, 164

XIV.

The Sedition at La Caroline, 166

XV.

The Mutineers at Sea, 185

XVI.

The Adventure of D'Erlach, 193

XVII.

The Narrative of Le Barbu, 218

XVIII.

Historical Summary, 251

XIX.

Captivity of the Great Paracoussi, 263

XX.

Iracana, 294

XXI.

Historical Summary, 310

XXII.

The Fate of La Caroline, 321

XXIII.

The Fortunes of Ribault, 364

XXIV.

Alphonse D'Erlach, 387

XXV.

Dominique de Gourgues, 414

Appendix, 463

THE LILY AND THE TOTEM.

I.

THE FIRST VOYAGE OF RIBAULT.

Introduction--The Huguenots--Their Condition in France--First

Expedition for the New World, under the auspices of the Admiral

Coligny, Conducted by John Ribault--Colony Established in Florida,

and confided to the charge of Captain Albert.

The Huguenots, in plain terms, were the Protestants of France. They were

a sect which rose very soon after the preaching of the Reformation had

passed from Germany into the neighboring countries. In France, they

first excited the apprehensions and provoked the hostility of the Roman

Catholic priesthood, during the reign of Francis the First. This prince,

unstable as water, and governed rather by his humors and caprices than

by any fixed principles of conduct--wanting, perhaps, equally in head

and heart--showed himself, in the outset of his career, rather friendly

to the reformers. But they were soon destined to suffer, with more

decided favorites, from the caprices of his despotism. He subsequently

became one of their most cruel persecutors. The Huguenots were not

originally known by this name. It does not appear to have been one of

their own choosing. It was the name which distinguished them in the days

of their persecution. Though frequently the subject of conjecture, its

origin is very doubtful. Montluc, the Marshal, whose position at the

time, and whose interests in the subject of religion were such as might

have enabled him to know quite as well as any other person, confesses

that the source and meaning of the appellation were unknown. It is

suggested that the name was taken from the tower of one Hugon, or Hugo,

at Tours, where the Protestants were in the habit of assembling secretly

for worship. This, by many, is assumed to be the true origin of the

word. But there are numerous etymologies besides, from which the reader

may make his selection,--all more or less plausibly contended for

by the commentators. The commencement of a petition to the Cardinal

Lorraine--"_Huc nos_ venimus, serenissime princeps, &c.," furnishes a

suggestion to one set of writers. Another finds in the words "_Heus

quenaus_," which, in the Swiss _patois_, signify "seditious fellows,"

conclusive evidence of the thing for which he seeks. Heghenen or

Huguenen, a Flemish word, which means Puritans, or Cathari, is

reasonably urged by Caseneuve, as the true authority; while Verdier

tells us that they were so called from their being the _apes_ or

followers of John Hus--"_les guenons de Hus_;"--_guenon_ being a young

ape. This is ingenious enough without being complimentary. The etymology

most generally received, according to Mr. Browning, (History of the

Huguenots,) is that which ascribes the origin of the name to "the word

_Eignot_, derived from the German _Eidegenossen_, q. e. federati. A

party thus designated existed at Geneva; and it is highly probable that

the French Protestants would adopt a term so applicable to themselves."

There are, however, sundry other etymologies, all of which seem

equally plausible; but these will suffice, at least, to increase the

difficulties of conjecture. Either will answer, since the name by which

the child is christened is never expected to foreshadow his future

character, or determine his career. The name of the Huguenots was

probably bestowed by the enemies of the sect. It is in all likelihood a

term of opprobrium or contempt. It will not materially concern us, in

the scheme of the present performance, that we should reach any definite

conclusion on this point. Their European history must be read in other

volumes. Ours is but the American episode in their sad and protracted

struggle with their foes and fortune. Unhappily, for present inquiry,

this portion of their history attracted but too little the attention of

the parent country. We are told of colonies in America, and of their

disastrous termination, but the details are meagre, touched by the

chronicler with a slight and careless hand; and, but for the striking

outline of the narrative,--the leading and prominent events which

compelled record,--it is one that we should pass without comment, and

with no awakening curiosity. But the few terrible particulars which

remain to us in the ancient summary, are of a kind to reward inquiry,

and command the most active sympathies; and the melancholy outline of

the Huguenots' progress, in the New World, exhibits features of trial,

strength and suffering, which render their career equally unique in both

countries;--a dark and bloody history, involving details of strife, of

enterprise, and sorrow, which denied them the securities of home in the

parent land, and even the most miserable refuge from persecution in

the wildernesses of a savage empire. Their European fortunes are amply

developed in all the European chronicles. Our narrative relates wholly

to those portions of their history which belong to America.

It is not so generally known that the colonies of the Huguenots, in

the new world, were almost coeval with those of the Spaniards. They

anticipated them in the northern portions of the continent. These

settlements were projected by the active genius of the justly-celebrated

French admiral, Gaspard de Coligny, one of the great leaders of the

Huguenots in France. His persevering energies, impelled by his sagacious

forethought, effected a beginning in the work of foreign colonization,

which, unhappily for himself and party, he was not permitted to

prosecute, with the proper vigor, to successful completion. His sagacity

led him to apprehend, from an early experience of the character of the

Queen-mother, in the bigoted and brutal reign of Charles the Ninth, that

there would, in little time, be no safety in France for the dissenters

from the established religion. The feebleness of the youthful

Prince, the jealous and malignant character of Catharine--her utter

faithlessness, and the hatred which she felt for the Protestants, which

no pact could bind, and no concession mollify,--to say nothing of the

controlling will of Pius the Fifth, who had ascended the Papal throne,

sworn to the extermination of all heresies,--all combined to assure the

Protestants of the dangers by which their cause was threatened. The

danger was one of life as well as religion. It was in the destruction of

the one, that the enemies of the Huguenots contemplated the overthrow

of the other. Coligny was not the man to be deceived by the hollow

compromises, the delusive promises, the false truces, which were all

employed in turn to beguile him and his associates into confidence,

and persuade them into the most treacherous snares. He combined a fair

proportion of the cunning of the serpent with the dove's purity, and,

maintaining strict watch upon his enemies, succeeded, for a long period,

in eluding the artifices by which he was overcome at last. Availing

himself of the influence of his position, and of a brief respite from

that open war which preceded the famous Edict of January, 1562, by which

the Huguenots were admitted, with some restrictions, to the exercise of

their religion, Coligny addressed himself to the task of establishing

a colony of Protestants in America. He readily divined the future

importance, to his sect, of such a place of refuge. The moment was

favorable to his objects. The policy of the Queen-mother was not yet

sufficiently matured, to render it proper that she should oppose herself

to his desires. Perhaps, she also conceived the plan a good one, which

should relieve the country of a race whom she equally loathed and

dreaded.[1] It is possible that she did not fully conjecture the

ultimate calculations of the admiral. The king, himself, was a minor,

entirely in her hands, who could add nothing to her counsels, or, for

the present, interfere with her authority; and, without seeking farther

to inquire by what motives she was governed in according to Coligny the

permission which he sought, it is enough that he obtained the necessary

sanction. Of this he readily availed himself. It was not, by the way,

his first attempt at colonization. Having in view the same objects by

which he was governed in the present instance, he had, in 1555, sent out

an expedition to Brazil under Villegagnon. This enterprise had failed

through the perfidy of that commander. Its failure did not discourage

the admiral. Though the full character of Catharine had not developed

itself, in all its cruel and heartless characteristics, it was yet

justly understood by him, and he never suffered himself to forget how

necessary to the sect which he represented was the desired haven of

security which he sought, in a region beyond her influence.

[1] Charlevoix expressly says, speaking, however, of Charles IX.,

"qu'il fut fort aise de voir que M. de Coligni n'employoit à cette

expédition que des Calvinistes, parce que c'étoit autant d'ennemis,

dont il purgeoit l'etat." Of Coligny's anxiety in regard to this

expedition and his objects, the same writer says: "Coligny had the

colony greatly at heart. It was, in fact, the first thing of which the

admiral spoke to the king when he obtained permission to repair to the

court."

From Brazil he turned his eyes on Florida. This _terra incognita_, at

the period of which we speak, was El Dorado to the European imagination.

It was the New Empire, richer than Peru or Mexico, in which adventurers

as daring as Cortes and Pizarro were to compass realms of as great

magnificence and wealth. Already had the Spaniard traversed it with his

iron-clad warriors, seeking vainly, and through numberless perils, for

the treasure which he worshipped. Still other treasures had won the

imagination of one of their noblest knights; and in exploring the wild

realm of the Floridian for the magical fountain which was to restore

youth to the heart of age, and a fresh bloom to its withered aspect,

Ponce de Leon pursued one of the loveliest phantoms that ever deluded

the fancy or the heart of man. To him had succeeded others; all seeking,

in turn, the realization of those unfruitful visions which, like

wandering lights of the swamp forest, only glitter to betray. Vasquez

d'Ayllon, John Verazzani, Pamphilo de Narvaez, and the more brilliant

cavalier than all, Hernando de Soto, had each penetrated this land of

hopes and fancies, to deplore in turn its disappointments and delusions.

With the wildest desires in their hearts, they had disdained the merely

possible within their reach. They had sought for possessions such as few

empires have been known to yield; and had failed to see, or had beheld

with scorn, the simple treasures of fruit and flower which the country

promised and proffered in abundance. This vast region, claimed equally

by Spain, France, and England, still lay derelict. "Death," as one of

our own writers very happily remarks, "seemed to guard the avenues of

the country." None of the great realms which claimed it as their domain,

regarded it in any light but as a territory which they might ravage.

Yet, well might its delicious climate, the beauty of its groves and

forests, the sweets of its flowers, which beguiled the senses of the

ocean pilgrim a score of leagues from land--to say nothing of the

supposed wealth of its mountains, and of the great cities hid among

their far recesses--have persuaded the enterprise, and implored the

prows of enterprise and adventure. To these attractions the previous

adventurers had not wholly shown themselves insensible. Ponce de Leon,

enraptured with its rich and exquisite vegetation, as seen in the spring

season of the year, first conferred upon it the name of beauty, which it

bears. Nor, had he not been distracted by baser objects, would he have

failed utterly to discover the salubrious fountains which he sought.

Here were met natives, who, quaffing at medicinal streams by which the

country was everywhere watered, grew to years which almost rival those

of the antediluvian fathers. Verazzani, the Florentine, unfolds a

golden chronicle of the innocence and delight which distinguished the

simple people by whom the territory was possessed, and whose character

was derived from the gentle influences of their climate, and the

exquisite delicacy, beauty, and variety of the productions of the soil.

He, too, had visited the country in the season of spring, when all

things in nature look lovely to the eye. But such verdure as blessed his

vision on this occasion, constituted a new era in his life, and seemed

to lift him to the crowning achievement of all his enterprises. The

region, as far his eye could reach, was covered with "faire fields and

plaines," "full of mightie great woodes," "replenished with divers

sort of trees, as pleasant and delectable to behold as is possible to

imagine;"--"Not," says the voyager, "like the woodes of Hercynia or the

wilde deserts of Tartary, and the northerne coasts full of fruitlesse

trees," but "trees of sortes unknowen in Europe, which yeeld most sweete

savours farre from the shoare." Nor did these constitute the only

attractions. The appearance of the forests and the land "argued drugs

and spicery," "and other riches of golde."

The woods were "full of many beastes, as stags, deere and hares, and

likewise of lakes and pooles of fresh water, with great plentie of

fowles, convenient for all kinde of pleasant game." The air was "goode

and wholesome, temperate between hot and colde;" "no vehement windes

doe blowe in these regions, and those that do commonly reigne are the

southwest and west windes in the summer season;" "the skye cleare and

faire, with very little raine; and if, at any time, the ayre be cloudie

and mistie with the southerne winde, immediately it is dissolved and

waxeth cleare and faire againe. The sea is calme, not boisterous,

and the waves gentle." And the people were like their climate. The

nature which yielded to their wants, without exacting the toil of

ever-straining sinews, left them unembittered by necessities which take

the heart from youth, and the spirit from play and exercise. No carking

cares interfered with their humanity to check hospitality in its first

impulse, and teach avarice to withhold the voluntary tribute which the

natural virtues would prompt, in obedience to a selfishness that finds

its justification in serious toils which know no remission, and a

forethought that is never permitted to forget the necessities of the

coming day. Verazzani found the people as mild and grateful as their

climate. They crowded to the shore as the stranger ships drew nigh,

"making divers synes of friendship." They showed themselves "very

courteous and gentle," and, in a single incident, won the hearts of the

Europeans, who seldom, at that period, in their intercourse with the

natives, were known to exhibit an instance so beautiful, of a humanity

so Christian. A young sailor, attempting to swim on shore, had overrated

his strength. Cast among the breakers, he was in danger of being

drowned. This, when the Indians saw, they dashed into the surf, and

dragged the fair-skinned voyager to land. Here, when he recovered from

his stupor, he exhibited signs of the greatest apprehension, finding

himself in the hands of the savages. But his lamentations, which were

piteously loud, only provoked theirs. Their tears flowed at his weeping.

In this way they strove to "cheere him, and to give him courage." Nor

were they neglectful of other means. "They set him on the ground, at the

foot of a little hill against the sunne, and began to behold him with

great admiration, marveiling at the whitenesse of his fleshe;" "Putting

off his clothes, they made him warme at a great fire, not without one

great feare, by what remayned in the boate, that they would have rosted

him at that fire and have eaten him." But the fear was idle. When they

had warmed and revived the stranger, they reclothed him, and as he

showed an anxiety to return to the ship, "they, with great love,

clapping him fast about with many embracings," accompanied him to the

shore, where they left him, retiring to a distance, whence they could

witness his departure without awakening the apprehensions of his

comrades. These people were of "middle stature, handsome visage and

delicate limmes; of very little strength, but of prompt wit."

We need not pursue the details of these earlier historians. They suffice

to direct attention to Florida, and to persuade adventure with fanciful

ideas of its charming superiority over all unknown regions. But the

adventurers, until Coligny's enterprise was conceived, meditated the

invasion of the country, and the gathering of its hidden treasures,

rather than the establishment of any European settlements in its

glorious retreats. It was not till the eighteenth day of February, in

the Year of Grace, one thousand five hundred and sixty-two, that the

plan of the Admiral of France was sufficiently matured for execution.

On that day he despatched two vessels from France, well manned and

furnished, under the command of one John Ribault,[2] for the express

purpose of making the first permanent European establishment in these

regions of romance. The narrative of this enterprise is chiefly drawn

from the writings of René Laudonniere, who himself went out as a

lieutenant in the expedition. Laudonniere, in his narrative of their

progress, says nothing of the secret objects of Coligny, of which he

probably knew nothing. He ascribes to the King--the Queen-mother,

rather--a nobler policy than either of them ever entertained. "My Lord

of Chastillon," (Coligny) thus he writes,--"A nobleman more desirous of

the publique than of his private benefits, understanding the pleasure

of the King, his Prince, which was to discover new and strange

countries, caused vessels for this purpose to be made ready with all

diligence, and men to be levied meet for such an enterprise."

[2] Charlevoix describes Ribault as "un ancien officier de marine,"

and speaks of him as a man of experience and "Zélé Huguenot." Of his

vessels, on this expedition, he says that they belonged to the class

called "Roberges, et qui differoient peu des Caravelles Espagnoles."

This is merely courtly language, wholly conventional, and which, spoken

of Charles the Ninth,--a boy not yet in his teens--savors rather of the

ridiculous. There is no question that the expedition originated wholly

with Coligny; as little is it questionable, though Laudonniere says

nothing on this subject, that it was designed in consequence of that

policy which showed him the ever present danger of the Huguenots. It

does not militate against this policy that he made use of a pretext

which was suggested by the passion for maritime discovery common in

those days. By the assertion of this pretext, he was the more easily

enabled to persuade the Queen-mother to a measure upon which she

otherwise would never have suffered the ships of the Huguenots to weigh

anchor.

But this question need not detain us. Laudonniere speaks of the armament

as ample for the purpose for which it was designed--"so well furnished

with gentlemen and with oulde souldiers that he (Ribault) had meanes to

achieve some notable thing, and worthie of eternall memorie." This

was an exaggeration, something Spanish in its tenor,--one of those

flourishes of rhetoric among the voyagers of that day, which had already

grown to be a sound without much signification. The vessels were small,

as was the compliment of men dispatched. The objects of the expedition

were limited, did not contemplate exploration but settlement, and,

consequently, were not likely to find opportunity for great enterprises.

The voyage occupied two months; the route pursued carefully avoided that

usually taken by the Spaniards, whom already our adventurers had cause

to fear. At the end of this period, land was made in the latitude of St.

Augustine, to the cape of which they gave the name of St. François. From

this point, coasting northwardly, they discovered "a very faire and

great river"--the San Matheo of the Spaniards, now the St. John's, to

which Ribault, as he discovered it on the first of May, gave the name

of that month. This river he penetrated in his boats. He was met on the

shore by many of the natives, men and women. These received him with

gentleness and peace. Their chief man made an oration, and honored

Ribault, at the close, with a present of "chamois skinnes." On the

ensuing day, he "caused a pillar of hard stone to be planted within the

sayde river, and not farre from the mouth of the same, upon a little

sandie knappe," on which the arms of France were engraved. Crossing to

the opposite shores of this river, a religious service was performed in

the presence of the Indians. There the red-men, perhaps for the first

time, beheld the pure and simple rites of the genuine Christian. Prayers

were said, and thanks given to the Deity, "for that, of his grace, hee

had conducted the French nation into these strange places." This service

being ended, the Indians conducted the strangers into the presence of

their king,[3] who received them in a sitting posture, upon a couch

made of bay leaves and palmetto. Speeches were made between the parties

which were understood by neither. But their tenor was amicable, the

savage chieftain giving to Ribault, at parting, a basket wrought very

ingeniously of palm leaves, "and a great skinne painted and drawen

throughout with the pictures of divers wilde beastes; so livly drawen

and portrayed that nothing lacked life." Fish were taken for the

Frenchmen by the hospitable natives, in weirs made of reeds, fashioned

like a maze or labyrinth--"troutes, great mullets, plaise, turbots, and

marvellous store of other sorts of fishes altogether different from

ours." Another chief upon this river received them with like favors.

Two of the sons of this chief are represented as "exceeding faire and

strong." They were followed by troops of the natives, "having their

bowes and arrowes, in marveilous good order."

[3] Laudonniere, in Hakluyt, gives the regal title among the

Floridians as Paracoussi. Charlevoix writes the word Paraousti, or

Paracousti; "et ausquels les Castillans donnent le titre général de

Caciques." Mico, in subsequent periods, seems to have been the more

popular title among the Florida Indians, signifying the same thing,

or its equivalents, Chief, Prince, or Head Warrior.

From this river, still pursuing a northwardly course, Ribault came to

another which he explored and named the Seine, (now the St. Mary's,)

because it appeared to resemble the river of that name in France.[4] We

pass over the minor details in this progress--how he communed with the

natives--who, everywhere seemed to have entertained our Huguenots with

equal grace and gentleness, and who are described as a goodly people, of

lively wit and great stature. Ribault continued to plant columns, and to

take possession of the country after the usual forms, conferring names

upon its several streams, which he borrowed for the purpose from similar

well-known rivers in France. Thus, for a time, the St. Mary's became the

Seine; the Satilla, the Somme; the Altamaha, the Loire; the Ogechee, the

Garonne; and the Savannah, the Gironde. The river to which his prows

were especially directed, was that to which the name of Jordan had

been given by Vasquez de Ayllon, some forty years before. This is our

present Combahee. In sailing north, in this search, other smaller rivers

were discovered, one of which was called the Belle-a-veoir. Separated by

a furious tempest from his pinnaces, which had been kept in advance for

the purpose of penetrating and exploring these streams, Ribault, with

his ships, was compelled to stand out to sea. When he regained the coast

and his pinnaces, he was advised of a "mightie river," in which they had

found safe harborage from the tempest, a river which, "in beautie and

bignesse" exceeded all the former. Delighted with this discovery, our

Huguenots made sail to reach this noble stream.

[4] "A quatorze lienes de la Riviere de Mai, il en trouva une

troisiéme qu'il nomma la Seine."--_Charlevoix's New France._ Liv. 1,

p. 39.

The object of Ribault had been some safe and pleasant harborage, in

which his people could refresh themselves for a season. His desires were

soon gratified. He cast anchor at the mouth of a mighty river, to which,

"because of the fairnesse and largenesse thereoff," he gave the name of

Port Royale, the name which it still bears. The depth of this river is

such, that, according to Laudonniere, "when the sea beginneth to flowe,

the greatest shippes of France, yea, the argosies of Venice, may enter

there." Ribault, at the head of his soldiers, was the first to land.

Grateful, indeed, to the eye and fancy of our Frenchmen, was the scene

around them. They had already passed through a fairy-like region, of

islet upon islet, reposing upon the deep,--crowned with green forests,

and arresting, as it were, the wild assaults of ocean upon the shores of

which they appeared to keep watch and guard. And, passing between these

islets and the main, over stillest waters, with a luxuriant shrubbery on

either hand, and vines and flowers of starred luxuriance trailing about

them to the very lips of this ocean, they had arrived at an imperial

growth of forest. The mighty shafts that rose around them, heavy

with giant limbs, and massed in their luxuriant wealth of leaves,

particularly impressed the minds of our voyagers--"mightye high oakes

and infinite store of cedars," and pines fitted for the masts of "such

great ammirals" as had never yet floated in the European seas. Their

senses were assailed with fresh and novel delights at every footstep.

The superb magnolia, with its great and snow-white chalices; the

flowering dogwood with its myriad blossoms, thick and richly gleaming

as the starry host of heaven; the wandering jessamine, whose yellow

trophies, mingling with grey mosses of the oak, stooped to the upward

struggling billows of the deep, giving out odor at every rise and fall

of the ambitious wavelet,--these, by their unwonted treasures of

scent and beauty, compelled the silent but profound admiration of the

strangers. "Exceeding pleasant" did the "very fragrant odour" make the

place; while other novelties interposed to complete the fascinations of

a spot, the peculiarities of which were equally fresh and delightful.

Their farther acquaintance with the country only served to increase its

attractions. As they wandered through the woods, they "saw nothing but

turkey cocks flying in the forests, partridges, gray and red, little

different from ours, but chiefly in bignesse;"--"we heard also within

the woods the voices of stagges, of beares, of hyenas, of leopards, and

divers other sorts of beasts unknown to us. Being delighted with this

place, we set ourselves to fishing with nets, and caught such a number

of fish that it was wonderful."

The same region is still renowned for its fish and game, for the

monsters as well as the multitudes of the deep, and for the deer of

its spacious swamps and forests, which still exercise the skill and

enterprise of the angler and the hunter. This is the peculiar region

also, of the "Devil fish," the "Vampire of the Ocean," described by

naturalists as of the genus Ray, species Dio-don, a leviathan of

the deep, whose monstrous antennæ are thrown about the skiff of the

fisherman with an embrace as perilous as that wanton sweep of his mighty

extremities with which the whale flings abroad the crowding boats of his

hardy captors. Sea and land, in this lovely neighborhood, still gleam

freshly and wondrously upon the eye of the visitor as in the days of our

Huguenot adventurers; and still do its forests, in spite of the _cordon_

which civilization and society have everywhere drawn around them, harbor

colonies of the bear which occasionally cross the path of the sportsman,

and add to his various trophies of the chase.

With impressions of the scene and region such as realized to our

Frenchmen the summer glories of an Arabian tale, it was easy to

determine where to plant their colony. Modern conjecture, however,

is still unsatisfied as to the site which was probably chosen by our

voyagers. The language of Laudonniere is sufficiently vague and general

to make the matter doubtful; and, unhappily, there are no remains which

might tend to lessen the obscurity of the subject. The vessels had

cast anchor at the mouth of Port Royal River. The pilots subsequently

counselled that they should penetrate the stream, so as to secure a

sheltered roadstead. They ascended the river accordingly, some three

leagues from its mouth, when Ribault proceeded to make a closer

examination of the country. The Port Royal "is divided into two great

armes, whereof the one runneth toward the _west_, the other toward the

_north_." Our Huguenot captain chose the _western_ avenue, which he

ascended in his pinnace. For more than twelve leagues he continued this

progress, until he "found another arme of the river which ranne towards

the _east_, up which the captain determined to sail and leave the greate

current."

The red men whom they encounter on this progress are at first shy of

the strangers and take flight at their approach, but they are soon

encouraged by the gentleness and forbearance of the Frenchmen, who

persuade them finally to confidence. An amiable understanding soon

reconciles the parties, and the Floridian at length brings forward

his gifts of maize, his palm baskets with fruits and flowers, his

rudely-dressed skins of bear and beaver, and these are pledges of his

amity which he does not violate. He, in turn, persuades the voyagers to

draw near to the shore and finally to land. They are soon surrounded by

the delighted and simple natives, whose gifts are multiplied duly in

degree with the pleasure which they feel. Skins of the _chamois_--deer

rather--and baskets of pearls, are offered to the chief among the

whites, whom they proceed to entertain with shows of still greater

courtesy. A bower of forest leaves and shrubs is soon built to shelter

them "from the parching heate of the sunne," and our Frenchmen lingered

long enough among this artless and hospitable people to get tidings of

a "greate Indian Lorde which had pearles in great abundance and silver

also, all of which should be given them at the king's arrival." They

invited the strangers to their dwellings--proffering to show them a

thousand pleasures in shooting, and seeing the death of the stag.

Our Huguenots, excellent Christians though they were, were by no

means insensible to the tidings of pearl and gold. These glimpses of

treasures, already familiar to their imaginations, greatly increase, in

their sight, the natural beauties of the country. The narratives of the

red men, imperfectly understood, and construed by the desires of the

strangers, rather than their minds, were full of marvels of neighboring

lands and nations,--great empires of wealth and strength,--cities in

romantic solitudes,--high places among almost inaccessible mountains, in

which the treasures are equally precious and abundant. Listening to such

legends, our Frenchmen linger with the red men, until the approach of

night counsels them to seek the security of their ships.

But, with the dawning of the following day the explorations were

resumed. Before leaving his vessel, however, Ribault provides himself

with "a pillar of hard stone, fashioned like a column, whereon the armes

of France were graven," with the purpose of planting "the same in the

fairest place that he coulde finde." "This done, we embarked ourselves,

and sayled three leagues towards the west; where we discovered a little

river, up which wee sayled so long, that, in the ende, wee found it

returned into the great current, and in his return, to make a little

island separated from the firme lande, where wee went on shore, and by

commandment of the captain, because it was exceeding faire and pleasant,

there we planted the pillar upon a hillock open round about to the view

and environed with a lake halfe a fathom deepe, of very good and sweete

water."

We are particular in these details, in the hope that future explorers

may be thus assisted in the work of identifying the places marked by our

Huguenots. Everything which they see in the new world which surrounds

them, is imposing to the eye and grateful to the sense. They wander

among avenues of gigantic pines that remind them of the mighty

colonnades in the great cathedrals of the old world. They are at once

exhilarated by a sense of unwonted freshness and beauty in what they

behold, and by aspects of grandeur and vastness which solemnize all

their thoughts and fancies. With these feelings, when, in their

wanderings, they arouse from the shady covers where they browsed "two

stagges of exceeding bignesse, in respect of those which _they_ had

seene before," their captain forbids that they should shoot them, though

they might easily have done so. The anecdote speaks well for Ribault's

humanity. It was not wholly because he was "moved with the singular

fairenesse and bignesse of them," as Laudonniere imagines, but because

his soul was lifted with religious sentiment--filled with worship at

that wondrous temple of nature in which the great Jehovah seemed visibly

present, in love and mercy, as in the first sweet days of the creation.

To the little river which surrounded the islet, on which the pillar was

raised, they gave the name of "Liborne." The island itself is supposed

to be that which is now called Lemon Island. The matter is one which

still admits of doubt, though scarcely beyond the reach of certainty, in

a close examination from the guide posts which we still possess. It is a

question which may well provoke the diligence of the local antiquary.

"Another isle, not far distant from" that of the pillar, next claimed

the attention of the voyagers. Here they "found nothing but tall cedars,

the fairest that were seene in this country. For this cause wee called

it the Isle of Cedars."

This ended their exploration for the day. A few days were consumed in

farther researches, without leading to any new discoveries. In the

meantime, Ribault prepared to execute the commands of his sovereign,

in the performance of one of the tasks which civilization but too

frequently sanctions at the expense of humanity. He was commanded by

the Queen-mother to capture and carry home to France a couple of the

natives. These, as we have seen, were a mild race, maintaining among

themselves a gentle intercourse, and exercising towards strangers

a grateful hospitality. It was with a doubtful propriety that our

Frenchman determined to separate any of them from their homes and

people. But it was not for Ribault to question the decrees of that

sovereign whom it was the policy of the Huguenots, at present, to

conciliate. Having selected a special and sufficient complement of

soldiers, he determined "to returne once againe toward the Indians which

inhabiteth that arme of the river which runneth toward the West." The

pinnace was prepared for this purpose. The object of the voyage was

successful. The Indians were again found where they had been at first

encountered. The Frenchmen were received with hospitality. Ribault made

his desires known to the king or chief of the tribe, who graciously

gave his permission. Two of the Indians, who fancied that they were more

favored than the rest of their brethren, by the choice of the Frenchmen,

yielded very readily to the entreaties which beguiled them on board

one of the vessels. They probably misunderstood the tenor of the

application; or, in their savage simplicity, concluded that a voyage to

the land of the pale-faces was only some such brief journey as they were

wont to make, in their cypress canoes, from shore to shore along their

rivers--or possibly as far down as the great frith in which their

streams were lost. But it was not long before our savage voyagers

were satisfied with the experiment. They soon ceased to be pleased or

flattered with the novelty of their situation. The very attentions

bestowed upon them only provoked their apprehensions. The cruise wearied

them; and, when they found that the vessels continued to keep away from

the land, they became seriously uneasy. Born swimmers, they had no fear

about making the shore when once in the water: and it required the

utmost vigilance of the Frenchmen to keep them from darting overboard.

It was in vain, for a long time, that they strove to appease and to

soothe the unhappy captives. Their detention, against their desires, now

made them indignant. Gifts were pressed upon them, such as they were

known to crave and to esteem above all other possessions. But these they

rejected with scorn. They would receive nothing in exchange for their

liberty. The simple language in which the old chronicler describes the

scene and their sorrows, has in it much that is highly touching, because

of its very simplicity. They felt their captivity, and were not to be

beguiled from this humiliating conviction by any trappings or soothings.

Their freedom--the privilege of eager movements through billow and

forest--sporting as wantonly as bird and fish in both--was too precious

for any compensation. They sank down upon the deck, with clasped hands,

sitting together apart from the crew, gazing upon the shores with

mournful eyes, and chaunting a melancholy ditty, which seemed

to the watchful and listening Frenchmen a strain of exile and

lamentation--"agreeing so sweetly together, that, in hearing their

song, it seemed that they lamented the absence of their friendes."

And thus they continued all night to sing without ceasing.

The pinnace, meanwhile, lay at anchor, the tide being against them; with

the dawn of day the voyage was resumed, and the ships were reached in

safety where they lay in the roadstead. Transferred to these, the two

captives continued to deplore their fate. Every effort was made to

reconcile them to their situation, and nothing was withheld which

experience had shown to be especially grateful to the savage fancy. But

they rejected everything; even the food which had now become necessary

to their condition. They held out till nearly sunset, in their rejection

of the courtesies, which, with a show of kindness, deprived them of the

most precious enjoyment and passion of their lives. But the inferior

nature at length insisted upon its rights. "In the end they were

constrained to forget their superstitions," and to eat the meat which

was set before them. They even received the gifts which they had

formerly rejected; and, as if reconciled to a condition from which they

found it impossible to escape, they put on a more cheerful countenance.

"They became, therefore, more jocunde; every houre made us a thousand

discourses, being marveillous sorry that we could not understand them."

Laudonniere set himself to work to acquire their language. He strove

still more to conciliate their favor; engaged them in frequent

conversation; and, by showing them the objects for which he sought their

names, picked up numerous words which he carefully put on paper. In a

few days he was enabled to make himself understood by them, in ordinary

matters, and to comprehend much that they said to him. They flattered

him in turn. They told him of their feats and sports, and what pleasures

they could give him in the chase. They would take food from no hands but

his; and succeeded in blinding the vigilance of the Frenchmen. They were

not more reconciled to their prison-bonds than before. They had simply

changed their policy; and, when, after several days' detention, they

had succeeded in lulling to sleep the suspicions of their captors, they

stole away at midnight from the ship, leaving behind them all the gifts

which had been forced upon them, as if, to have retained them, would

have established, in the pale-faces, a right to their liberties--thus

showing, according to Laudonniere, "that they were not void of reason."

Ribault was not dissatisfied with this result of his endeavor to comply

with the commands of the Queen-mother. His sense of justice probably

revolted at the proceeding; and the escape of the Indians, who would

report only the kindness of their treatment, would, in all likelihood,

have an effect favorable to his main enterprise,--the establishment of

a colony. This design he now broached to his people in an elaborate

speech. He enlarged upon the importance of the object, drawing numerous

examples from ancient and modern history, in favor of those virtues in

the individual which such enterprise must develope. There is but one

passage in this speech which deserves our special attention. It is

that in which he speaks to his followers of their inferior birth and

condition. He speaks to them as "known neither to the king nor to the

princes of the realme, and, besides, descending from so poore a stock,

that few or none of your parents, _having ever made profession of

armes_, have beene knowne unto the great estates." This is in seeming

conflict with what Laudonniere has already told us touching the

character and condition in society of the persons employed in the

expedition. He has been careful to say, at the opening of the narrative,

that the two ships were "_well furnished with gentlemen_ (of whose

number I was one) and old soldiers."[5] The apparent contradiction may

be reconciled by a reference to the distinction, which, until a late

period, was made in France, between the noblesse and mere gentlemen. The

word gentleman had no such signification, in France, at that period, as

it bears to-day. To apply it to a nobleman, indeed, would have been, at

one time, to have given a mortal affront, and a curious anecdote is on

record, to this effect in the case of the Princess de la Roche Sur Yon,

who, using the epithet "gentilhomme" to a nobleman, was insulted by him;

and, on demanding redress of the monarch, was told that she deserved the

indignity, having been guilty of the first offence.

[5] Charlevoix seems to afford a sufficient sanction for the claim

of Laudonniere, in behalf of the gentle blood among the followers

of Ribault. He says "Il avoit des esquipages choisis, et plusieurs

volontaires, parmi lesquels il y avoit _quelques gentilshommes_." And

yet Ribault should have known better than anybody else the quality of

his armament. Certainly, the good leaven, as the result showed, was in

too small a proportion to leaven the whole colony.

But Ribault's speech suggested to his followers that their inferior

condition made nothing against their heroism. He, himself, though a

soldier by profession, from his tenderest years, had never yet been

able to compass the favor of the nobility. Yet he had applied himself

with all industry, and hazarded his life in many dangers. It was his

misfortune that "more regard is had to birth than virtue." But this

need not discourage _them_, as it has never discouraged him from the

performance of his duties. The great examples of history are in _his_

eyes, and should be in _theirs_.

"Howe much then ought so many worthy examples move you to plant here?

Considering, also, that hereby you shall be registered forever as the

first that inhabited this strange country. I pray you, therefore, all

to advise yourselves thereof, and to declare your mindes freely unto

me, protesting that I will so well imprint your names in the King's

eares, and the other princes, that your renowne shall hereafter shine

unquenchable through our realm of France."

Ribault was evidently not insensible to fame. Had his thoughts been

those of his sovereign, also, how different would have been the history!

His soldiers responded in the proper spirit, and declared their

readiness to establish a colony in the wild empire, the grandeur and

beauty of which had already commended it to their affections. Delighted

with the readiness and enthusiasm of his men, he weighed anchor the very

next day, in order to seek out the place most fit and convenient for

his settlement. "_Having sayled up the great river on the north side, in

coasting an isle which ended with a sharpe point toward the mouth of the

river;--having sailed awhile he discovered a small river which entered

into the islande, which hee would not faile to search out, which done,

he found the same deep enough to harbour therein gallies and galliots

in good number. Proceeding farther, he found an open place joyning upon

the brinke thereof, where he went on land, and seeing the place fit to

build a fortresse in, and commodious for them that were willing to

plant there, he resolved incontinently to cause the bignesse of the

fortification to be measured out._" The colony was to be a small one.

Twenty-six persons had volunteered to establish it; as many, perhaps, as

had been called for. The dimensions of the fort were small accordingly.

They were taken by Laudonniere, and one Captain Salles, under Ribault's

directions. The fort was at once begun. Its length was sixteen fathoms,

its breadth thirteen, "with flanks according to the proportion thereof."

Then, for the first time, the European axe was laid to the great shafts

of the forest trees of America, waking sounds, at every stroke, whose

echoes have been heard for three hundred years, sounding, and destined

to resound, from the Atlantic to the Pacific seas; leaving no waste of

wood and wild, unawakened by this first music of civilization.

The site thus chosen by Ribault for his colony, though no traces have

been left of the labor of his hands, is scarcely doubtful to the present

possessors of the country. All the proofs concur in placing Fort Charles

somewhere between North Edisto and Broad River, and circumstances

determine this situation to be that of the beautiful little town of

Beaufort, in South Carolina. The _Grande Riviere_ of the French is our

Broad River.[6] It was at the mouth of this river, in an island with a

safe and commodious port, that the fort was established; and of the

numerous islands which rise everywhere along the coast in this region,

as a fortress to defend the verdant shores from the assaults of ocean,

there is none which answers so well as this all the requisitions of this

description. Besides, it is actually in the very latitude of the site,

as given by Laudonniere; and the tradition of the Indians, as preserved

by our own people, seems to confirm and to conclude the conjectures on

this subject. They state that the first place in which they saw the pale

faces of the Europeans was at Coosawhatchie, in South Carolina. Now, the

Coosawhatchie is the principal stream that forms the _Grande Riviere_ of

the Frenchmen; and was, questionless, the first of the streams that was

penetrated by the pinnace of Ribault. It is highly probable that it bore

the name of Coosawhatchie through its entire course, until it emptied

itself into the ocean. The testimony of the Indians, based simply upon

their tradition, is of quite as much value as that of any other people.

It is well known with what tenacity they preserve the recollection

of important events, and with what singular adherence to general

truthfulness. The island upon which Beaufort now stands was most

probably that which yielded the first American asylum to the Huguenots

of France!

[6] Charlevoix, in his "Fastes Chronologiques," preparatory to his

work on New France, locates Charles Fort, under Ribault, near to the

site of the present city of Charleston. In his "Histoire Generale,"

and in the map which illustrates this narrative, however, he concurs

in the statement of the text. He also names the North Edisto the St.

Croix.

Our Frenchmen travailed so diligently that, in a short space, the

fortress was in some sort prepared for the colonists. It was soon in a

defensible condition. "Victuals and warlike munition" were transferred

from the shipping to the shore, and the garrison were furnished with all

things necessary for the maintenance of their fortress and themselves.

The fort was christened by the name of Charles, the King of France;

while the small river upon which it was built received the name of

Chenonceau. All things being provided, the colonists marched into their

little and lovely place of refuge. They were confided to the charge of

one Captain Albert, to whom, and to whose followers, Ribault made a

speech at parting. His injunctions were of a parental and salutary

character. He exhorted their Captain to justice, firmness and moderation

in his rule, and his people to obedience; promising to return with

supplies from France, and reinforcements before their present resources

should fail them. But these exhortations do not seem to have been much

regarded by either party. It will be for us, in future chapters, to

pursue their fortunes, and to pluck, if possible, from the unwritten

history, the detailed events of their melancholy destiny. Sad enough

will it have been, even if no positive evil shall befall them,--that

severance from their ancient comrades--that separation from the old

homes of their fathers in _La Belle France_--that lonesome abode, on the

verge of "ocean's gray and melancholy waste," on the one hand, and the

dense, dark, repelling forests of Apalachia on the other;--doubtful

of all they see,--in spite of all that is fresh and charming in

their sight;--apprehensive of every sound that reaches them from the

wilderness,--and filled with no better hope than that which springs up

in the human bosom when assured that all hope is cut off--that one

hope excepted, which is born of necessity, and which blossoms amid the

nettles of despair. The isolation was the more oppressive and likely to

be grievous, as we have reason to doubt that, though founding a colony

for the refuge of a religious and persecuted people, they brought any

becoming sense of religion with them. Our progress thus far with the

adventurers has shown us but few proofs of the presence among them of

any feelings of devotion. Ribault himself was but a soldier, and his

ambition was of an earthly complexion. Had they been elevated duly

by religion, they would have been counselled and strengthened in the

solitude by God. Unhappily, they were men only, rude, untaught, and full

of selfish passions,--badly ruled and often ill-treated, and probably

giving frequent provocation to the pride and passions of those who had

them under rule. But they began their career in the New World with

sufficient cheerfulness. Its climate was delicious, like that of their

own country. Its woods and forests were of a majesty and splendor beyond

any of which their wildest fancies had ever dreamed; and the security

which the remoteness of the region promised them, and the novelty which

invested every object in their eyes made the parting from their comrades

a tolerably easy one. They heard with lively spirits the farewell shouts

of their companions, and answered them with cheers of confidence and

pride. The simple paragraph which records the leave-taking of the

parties, is at once pleasing and full of pathos. "Having ended his

(Ribault's) exhortations, we took our leaves of _each_ of them, and

sayled toward our shippes. We hoysed our sayles about ten of the

clocke in the morning. After wee were ready to depart, Captain Ribault

commanded to shoote off our ordnance, to give a farewell unto our

Frenchmen; which fayled not to do the like on their part. This being

done, wee sayled toward the north." That last shout, that last sullen

roar of their mutual cannon, and the great waves of the Atlantic rolled,

unbroken by a sail, between our colonists and _La Belle France_.

II.

THE COLONY UNDER ALBERT.

The Colonists, thus abandoned by their countrymen, proceeded to make

themselves secure in their forest habitations. Day and night did they

address themselves to the completion of their fortress. They have seen

none of the natives in the immediate neighborhood of the spot in which

they had pitched their tents; but, aware of the wandering habits of the

red-men, they might naturally look for them at any moment. Their toils,

quickened by their caution, enabled them to make rapid progress. While

they labored, they felt nothing of their loneliness. The employments

which accompanied their situation, and flowed from its necessities,

might be said to exercise their fancies, and to subdue the tendency to

melancholy which might naturally grow out of their isolation. Besides,

the very novelty of the circumstances in which they found themselves had

its attractions, particularly to a people so lively as the French. Our

Huguenots, at the outset, were very sensible to the picturesque beauties

of their forest habitation. For a season, bird, and beast, and tree,

and flower, presented themselves to their delighted eyes, in guises of

constantly varying attraction. The solitude, itself, possessed its

charm, most fascinating of all,--until it became monotonous--to

those who had been little favored of fortune in the crowded world of

civilization; and, with the feeling of a first freshness in their

hearts, and, while in the performance of duties which were equally

necessary to their safety, and new to their experience, the whole

prospect before them was beheld through that rose-colored atmosphere

which the fancy so readily flings before the mind, beguiling the soberer

thought into forgetfulness. During this period they toiled successfully

upon their fortifications. They raised the parapet, they mounted the

cannon for defence; built rude dwellings within the walls, and in their

boundless contiguity of shade, with the feeling that they were in some

sort "monarchs of all they beheld;" they felt neither loneliness nor

fear.

Their homes built, their fortifications complete, they proceeded, in

small detachments to explore the neighboring streams and woods. They

had, so far, finished all their tasks without meeting with the natives.

They did not shrink from this meeting. They now desired it from motives

of policy. They had no reason to believe, from the specimens of the

red-men whom they had already encountered, that they should have any

difficulty in soothing any of the tribes; and they were justified in

supposing that the impression already made upon those whom they met,

would operate favorably upon their future intercourse. Boldly, then, our

Frenchmen darted into the adjacent forests, gathering their game and

provisions in the same grounds with the proprietors. But the latter were

never to be seen. They were shy of the strangers, or they had not yet

discovered their settlement. One day, however, a fortunate chance

enabled a party of the Huguenots to discover, and to circumvent an

Indian hunter, upon whom they came suddenly in the forests. At first the

poor fellow was exceedingly dismayed at the encounter; but, subduing his

fears, he submitted with a good grace to the wishes of his captors, and

was conducted to the fortress. Here he was treated with consideration,

and made happy by several trifles which were given him. His confidence

was finally won, and his mouth was opened. He became communicative,

and described his people and their territories. He avowed himself the

subject of a great monarch, whom he called Audusta,[7]--a name, in

which, under the corruptions of a French pronunciation, we recognize the

well-known modern name of Edisto. He described the boundaries of empire

belonging to this forest chieftain; and gave a general and not incorrect

idea of the whole surrounding country.

[7] The name in Charlevoix is written A_n_dusta, but this is most

probably an error of the press. Laudonniere in Hackluyt uniformly uses

the orthography which we adopt, and which furnishes a coincidence so

really striking in the preservation of a name so nearly the same in

sound, to this very day, in the same region.

Captain Albert was exceedingly delighted with his acquisition. It was

important that he should open an intercourse with the natives, to whose

maize-fields and supplies of venison his necessities required he should

look. He treated the hunter with liberality and courtesy, dismissing him

at night-fall with many presents, of a kind most grateful to the savage

taste. These hospitalities and gifts, it was not doubted, would pave

the way for an intercourse equally profitable and pleasant to both the

parties. Suffering a few days to elapse after the departure of the

hunter, Albert prepared to follow his directions, and explore the

settlements of King Audusta. He did so, and was received with great

kindness by the stately savage. The Indian hunter had made a favorable

report of the Frenchmen, and Audusta adopted them as his friends and

allies. He promised them provisions and assistance, and the friendship

of four other chiefs or princes, his tributaries, whose names are given

as Mayou, Hoya, Touppa, and Stalamè.[8] These were all, in turn,--except

the last,--visited by Albert, who found a frank and generous welcome

wherever he came. He consumed several days in these visits; and the

intercourse, in a little while, between the French and red-men, grew so

great, "that, in a manner, all things were soon common between them."

Returning to Audusta, Albert prepared to visit Stalamè, whose country

lay north of Fort Charles some fifteen leagues. This would make his

abode somewhere on the Edisto, near Givham's, perhaps; or, inclining

still north, to the head of Ashley River. Sailing up the river, (the

Edisto probably,) they encountered a great current, which they followed,

to reach the abode of Stalamè. He, too, received the strangers with

hospitality and friendship. The intercourse thus established between

the party soon assumed the most endearing aspect. The Indian kings took

counsel of Albert in all matters of importance. The Frenchmen were

called to the conference in the round-house of the tribe, quite as

frequently as their own recognized counsellors. In other words, the

leaders of the Huguenots were adopted into the tribe, that being the

usual mode of indicating trust and confidence. Albert was present at all

the assemblages of state in the realm of Audusta; at all ceremonials,

whether of business or pleasure; at his great hunts; and at the singular

feasts of his religion. One of these feasts, that of TOYA,[9] which

succeeded the visit of Albert to the territories of Audusta and the four

tributary kings, will call for an elaborate description hereafter, when

we narrate the legend of Guernache, upon whose fate that of the colony

seems to have depended.

[8] A remark of Charlevoix, which accords with the experience of all

early travellers and explorers among the American Indians, is worthy

to be kept in remembrance, as enabling us to account for that frequent

contradiction which occurs in the naming of places and persons among

the savages. He records distinctly that each canton or province of

Florida bore, among the red-men, the name of the ruling chief. Now, as

a matter of course where the tribes are nomadic, the names of places

continually underwent change, according to that of the tribe by which

the spot was temporarily occupied.

[9] According to Charlevoix, Toya was the name of the Floridian god,

and not that of the ceremonies simply. "Elle se célébroit en l'honneur

d'une Divinité nommée _Toya_."

The intercourse of our Huguenots with Audusta was of vital importance to

the former. In the form of gifts, he yielded them a regular tribute of

maize and beans, (corn and peas, in modern parlance,) and was easily

persuaded to do so by the simple trifles, of little value, which the

colonists proffered in return. It is not difficult to win the affections

of an inferior people, where the superior is indulgent. Kindness will

disarm the hostility of the savage, and justice will finally subdue the

jealousy of conscious ignorance. Sympathy in sports and amusements,

above all things, will do much towards bringing together tribes who

differ in their laws and language, and will make them forgetful of all

their differences. The French have been usually much more successful

than any other people in overcoming the prejudices of the red-men of

America. The moral of their nation is much more flexible than that of

the Englishman and Spaniard;--the former of whom has always subdued, and

the latter usually debased or destroyed, the races with which they came

in conflict.

The policy of Albert did not vary from that which usually distinguished

his countrymen in like situations. The French Protestant was, by no

means, of the faith and temper of the English Puritan. In simplifying

his religion, he did not clothe his exterior in gloom; he did not deny

that there should be sunshine and blossoms in the land. Our colonists at

Fort Charles did not perplex the Indians with doctrinal questions. It is

greatly to be feared, indeed, that religion did not, in any way, disturb

them in their solitudes. At all events, it was not of such a freezing

temper as to deny them the indulgence of an intercourse with the

natives, which, for a season, was very agreeable and very inspiriting

to both the parties.

But smiles and sunshine cannot last forever. The granaries of the

Indians began to fail under their own profligacy and the demands of

the Frenchmen. The resources of the former, never abundant, were soon

exhausted in providing for the additional hungry mouths which had come

among them. Shrinking from labor, they addressed as little of it as they

well could, to the cultivation of their petty maize fields. They

planted them, as we do now, a couple of grains of corn to each hill,

at intervals of three or four square feet, and as the corn grew to a

sufficient height, peas were distributed among the roots, to twine

about the stalks when the vines could no longer impair its growth. They

cropped the same land twice in each summer. The supplies, thus procured,

would have been totally inadequate to their wants, but for the abundant

game, the masts of the forest, and such harsh but wholesome roots as

they could pulverize and convert into breadstuffs. Their store was thus

limited always, and adapted to their own wants simply. Any additional

demand, however small, produced a scarcity in their granaries. The

improvidence of Audusta, or his liberality, prevented him from

considering this danger, until it began to be felt. He had supplied

the Frenchmen until his stock was exhausted; no more being left in his

possession than would suffice to sow his fields.

"For this reason,"--such was the language of the savage monarch--"we

must retire to the forests, and live upon its mast and roots, until

harvest time. We are sorry that we can supply you no longer; you must

now seek the granaries of our neighbors. There is a king called COUEXIS,

a prince of great might and renown in this country, whose province lies

toward the south. His lands are very fertile. His stores are ample at

all seasons. He alone can furnish you with food for a long time. Before

you approach the territories of Couexis, there is his brother, king

Ouade, who is scarcely less wealthy. He is a generous chief, who will

be very joyful if he may but once behold you. Seek out these, and your

wants shall be supplied."

The advice was taken. The Frenchmen had no alternative. They addressed

themselves first to Ouade. His territories lay along the river Belle,

some twenty-five leagues south of Port Royal. He received them with

the greatest favor and filled their pinnace with maize and beans. He

welcomed them to his abode with equal state and hospitality. His house

is described as being hung with a tapestry richly wrought of feathers.

The couch upon which he slept, was dressed with "white coverlettes,

embroidered with devises of very wittie and fine workmanship, and

fringed round about with a fringe dyed in the colour of scarlet." His

gifts to our Frenchmen were not limited to the commodities they craved.

He gave them six coverlets, and tapestry such as decorated his couch and

dwelling; specimens of a domestic manufacture which declare for tastes

and a degree of art which seems, in some degree, to prove their intimacy

with the more polished and powerful nations of the south. In regard to

food hereafter, king Ouade promised that his new acquaintance should

never want.

Thus was the first intercourse maintained by our Huguenots with their

savage neighbors. It was during this intimacy, and while all things

seemed to promise fair in regard to the colony, that the tragical events

took place which furnish the materials for the legend which follows, the

narrative of which requires that we should mingle events together, those

which occurred in the periods already noted, and those which belong to

our future chapters. Let it suffice, here, that, with his pinnace stored

with abundance, the mil (meal), corn and peas, of Ouade, Albert returned

in safety to Fort Charles.

III.

THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE.--Chap. I.

Showing how Guernache, the Musician, a great favorite with our

Frenchmen, lost the favor of Captain Albert, and how cruelly he

was punished by the latter.

Guernache, the drummer, was one of the finest fellows, and the

handsomest of our little colony of Frenchmen. Though sprung of very

humble origin, Guernache, with a little better education, might have

been deemed to have had his training among the highest circles of the

Court. He was of tall and erect figure, and of a carriage so noble and

graceful that, even among his associates, he continued to be an object

of admiration. Besides, he was a fellow of the happiest humor. His

kindness of heart was proverbial. His merriment was contagious. His eye

flashed out in gayety, and his spirit was ever on the alert to seize

upon the passing pleasure, and subject it to the enjoyment of his

companions. Never was fellow so fortunate in finding occasion for

merriment; and happy, indeed, was the Frenchman who could procure

Guernache as a comrade in the performance of his daily tasks. The toil

was unfelt in which he shared--the weight of the task was dissipated,

and, where it wore heavily, he came to the succor of his drooping

companion, and his superior expertness soon succeeded in doing that

which his pleasantry had failed to effect. He was the best fisherman

and hunter--was as brave as he was light-hearted--was, altogether, so

perfect a character, in the estimation of the little band of Albert,

that he found no enemy among his equals, and could always choose his

companion for himself. His successes were not confined to his own

countrymen. He found equal favor in the sight of the Indians. Among his

other accomplishments, he possessed the most wonderful agility--had

belonged, at one time, to a company of strolling players, and his skill

on tight and slack rope--if we are to credit old stories--would put to

the blush the modern performances of the Ravels and Herr Cline. It was

through his means, and partly by his ingenuity, that the Indian hunter

was entrapped and brought into the fort,--through whose agency the

intimacy had been effected with the people of Audusta and the other

chiefs; and, during this intimacy, Guernache had proved, in various

ways, one of the principal instruments for confirming the favorable

impressions which the Indian had received in his intercourse with the

Frenchmen. He was everywhere popular with the red men. Nothing, indeed,

could be done without him. Ignorant of his inferior social position

among the whites, the simple savages sent for him to their feasts and

frolics, without caring for the claims of any other person. He had but

to carry his violin--for, among his other accomplishments, that of

fiddling was not the smallest--to secure the smiles of the men and the

favors of the women; and it was not long before he had formed, among the

savages, a class for dancing, after the European fashion, upon the banks

of the Edisto. Think of the red men of Apalachia, figuring under a

Parisian teacher, by night, by torch-light, beneath the great oaks

of the original forest! Such uncouth antics might well offend, with

never-lessening wonder, the courtly nymphs of the Seine and the Loire.

But the Indians suffered from no conventional apprehensions. They were

not made to feel their deficiencies under the indulgent training of

Guernache, and footed it away as merrily, as if each of their damsels

sported on a toe as light and exquisite as that of Ellsler or Taglioni.

King Audusta, himself, though well stricken in years, was yet seduced

into the capricious mazes which he beheld with so much pleasure, and,

for a season, the triumph of Guernache among the palms and pines of

_Grande Riviere_, was sufficiently complete, to make him wonder at times

how his countrymen ever suffered his departure from the shores of La

Belle France!

At first, and when it was doubtful to what extent the favor of the

red-men might be secured for the colony, Captain Albert readily

countenanced the growing popularity of his fiddler among them. His

permission was frequently given to Guernache, when king Audusta

solicited his presence. His policy prompted him to regard it as highly

fortunate that so excellent an agent for his purposes was to be found

among his followers; and, for some months, it needed only a suggestion

of Guernache, himself, to procure for him leave of absence. The worthy

fellow never abused his privileges--never was unfaithful to his

trust--never grew insolent upon indulgence. But Captain Albert, though

claiming to be the cadet of a noble house, was yet a person of a mean

and ignoble nature. Small and unimposing of person, effeminate of habit,

and accustomed to low indulgences, he was not only deficient in the

higher resources of intellect, but he was exceedingly querulous and

tyrannical of temper. His aristocratical connexions alone had secured

him the charge of the colony, for which nature and education had equally

unfitted him. His mind was contracted and full of bitter prejudices;

and, as is the case commonly with very small persons, he was always

tenacious, to the very letter, of the nicest observances of etiquette.

After a little while, and when he no longer had reason to question the

fidelity of the red men, he began to exhibit some share of dislike

towards Guernache; and to withhold the privileges which he had hitherto

permitted him to enjoy. He had become jealous of the degree of favor in

which his musician was held among the savages, and betrayed this change

in his temper, by instances of occasional severity and denial, the

secret of which the companions of Guernache divined much sooner than

himself. Though not prepared, absolutely, to withhold his consent, when

king Audusta entreated that the fiddler might be spared him, he yet

accorded it ungraciously; and Guernache was made to suffer, in some way,

for these concessions, as if they had been so many favors granted to

himself.

They were, indeed, favors to the musician, though, to what extent,

Albert entertained no suspicion. It so happened that among his other

conquests, Guernache had made that of a very lovely dark-eyed damsel, a

niece of Audusta, and a resident of the king's own village. After the

informal fashion of the country, into which our Frenchmen were apt

readily to fall, he had made the damsel his wife. She was a beautiful

creature, scarcely more than sixteen; tall and slender, and so naturally

agile and graceful, that it needed but a moderate degree of instruction

to make her a dancer whose airy movements would not greatly have

misbeseemed the most courtly theatres of Paris. Monaletta,--for such was

the sweet name of the Indian damsel,--was an apt pupil, because she was

a loving one. She heartily responded to that sentiment of wonder--common

among the savages--that the Frenchmen should place themselves under the

command of a chief, so mean of person as Albert, and so inferior in

gifts, when they had among them a fellow of such noble presence as

Guernache, whose qualities were so irresistible. The opinions of her

head were but echoes from the feelings in her heart. Her preference for

our musician was soon apparent and avowed; but, in taking her to wife,

Guernache kept his secret from his best friend. No one in Fort Charles

ever suspected that he had been wived in the depth of the great

forests, through pagan ceremonies, by an Indian Iawa,[10] to the lovely

Monaletta. Whatever may have been his motive for keeping the secret,

whether he feared the ridicule of his comrades, or the hostility of his

superior, or apprehended a difficulty with rivals among the red men, by

a discovery of the fact, it is yet very certain that he succeeded in

persuading Monaletta, herself, and those who were present at his wild

betrothal, to keep the secret also. It did not lessen, perhaps, the

pleasure of his visits to the settlements of Audusta, that the peculiar

joys which he desired had all the relish of a stolen fruit. It was now,

only in this manner that Monaletta could be seen. Captain Albert, with

a rigid austerity, which contributed also to his evil odor among his

people, had interdicted the visits of all Indian women at the fort. This

interdict was one, however, which gave little annoyance to Guernache.

A peculiar, but not unnatural jealousy, had already prompted him

repeatedly to deny this privilege to Monaletta. The simple savage had

frequently expressed her desire to see the fortress of the white man, to

behold his foreign curiosities, and, in particular, to hearken to the

roar of that mimic thunder which he had always at command, and which,

when heard, had so frequently shaken the very hearts of the men of her

people.

[10] Iawa was the title of the priest or prophet of the Floridian.

The word is thus written by Laudonniere in Hakluyt. It is probably a

misprint only which, in Charlevoix, writes it "Iona."

In this relation stood the several parties, when, one day, a messenger

came to Fort Charles from King Audusta, bearing a special invitation to

Captain Albert to attend, with the savage tribes, the celebration of the

great religious "feast of _Toya_." He was invited to bring as many of

his men as he thought proper, but, in particular, not to forget their

favorite Guernache. The feast of Toya, seems to have constituted the

great religious ceremonial of the nation. It took place about the

middle, or the close of summer, and seems to have been a sort of annual

thanksgiving, after the laws of a natural religion, for the maturing

of their little crops. Much of the solemnities were obvious and

ostentatious in their character. Much more, however, was involved and

mysterious, and held particularly sacred by the priesthood. The occasion

was one, at all events, to which the Indians attached the greatest

importance; and, naturally anxious to acquire as great a knowledge as

possible of their laws, customs and sentiments, Captain Albert very

readily acceded to the invitation,--preparing, with some state, to

attend the rustic revels of Audusta. He took with him a fair proportion

of his little garrison, and did not omit the inimitable Guernache.

Ascending the river in his pinnace, he soon reached the territories

of the Indian monarch. Audusta, with equal hospitality and dignity,

anticipated his approach, and met him, with his followers, at the river

landing. With a hearty welcome, he conducted him to his habitations, and

gave him, at entrance, a draught of the cassina beverage, the famous tea

of the country. Then came damsels who washed their hands in vessels of

water over which floated the leaves of the odorous bay, and flowers of

rare perfume; drying them after with branches of plumes, scarlet and

white, which were made of the feathers of native birds of the most

glorious variety of hue. Mats of reed, woven ingeniously together by

delicate wythes of all colors, orange and green, and vermillion, dyed

with roots of the forest, were then spread upon the rush-strewn floor of

the royal wigwam; and, with a grace not unbecoming a sovereign born in

the purple, Audusta invited our Frenchmen to place themselves at ease,

each according to his rank and station. The king took his place among

them, neither above the first, nor below the last, but like a friend

within a favorite circle, in which some might stand more nearly than

others to his affections. They were then attended with the profoundest

deference, and served with the rarest delicacies of the Indian

_cuisine_. As night came on, fresh rushes were strewed upon the floor,

and they slept with the cheerful music of songs and laughter, which

reached them at intervals, through the night, from the merry makers in

the contiguous forests. With the dawning of the next day, preparations

for the great festival were begun.

IV.

THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE.--Chap. II.

THE FESTIVAL OF TOYA.

Being a continuation of the legend of Guernache; showing the

superstitions of the Red-Men; how Guernache offended Captain

Albert, and what followed from the secret efforts of the Frenchmen

to penetrate the mysteries of Toya!

It would be difficult to say, from the imperfect narratives afforded

us by the chroniclers, what were the precise objects of the present

ceremonials;--what gods were to be invoked;--what evil beings

implored;--what wrath and anger to be deprecated and diverted from the

devoted tribes. As the Frenchmen received no explanation of their mystic

preparations, so are we left unenlightened by their revelations. They do

not even amuse us by their conjectures, and Laudonniere stops short in

his narrative of what did happen, apologizing for having said so much

on so trifling a matter. We certainly owe him no gratitude for his

forbearance. What he tells us affords but little clue to the motive of

their fantastic proceedings. The difficulty, which is at present ours,

was not less that of Albert and his Frenchmen. They were compelled to

behold the outlines of a foreign ritual whose mysteries they were not

permitted to explore, and had their curiosity provoked by shows of a

most exciting character, which only mocked their desires, and tantalized

their appetites. On the first arrival of Albert, and after he had been

rested and refreshed, Audusta himself had conducted him, with his

followers, to the spot which had been selected for the ceremonies of the

morrow. "This was a great circuit of ground with open prospect and round

in figure." Here they saw "many women roundabout, which labored by all

means to make the place cleane and neate." The ceremonies began early

on the morning of the ensuing day. Hither they repaired in season, and

found "all they which were chosen to celebrate the feast," already

"painted and trimmed with rich feathers of divers colours." These led

the way in a procession from the dwelling of Audusta to the "place of

Toya." Here, when they had come, they set themselves in new order under

the guidance of three Indians, who were distinguished by plumes, paint,

and a costume entirely superior to the rest. Each of them carried a

tabret, to the plaintive and lamenting music of which they sang in

wild, strange, melancholy accents; and, in slow measures, dancing the

while, they passed gradually into the very centre of the sacred circle.

They were followed by successive groups, which answered to their

strains, and to whose songs they, in turn, responded with like echoes.

This continued for awhile, the music gradually rising and swelling from

the slow to the swift, from the sad to the passionate, while the moods

of the actors and the spectators, also varying, the character of

the scene changed to one of the wildest excitement. Suddenly, the

characters--those who were chief officiators in this apparent hymn of

fate--broke from the enchanted circle--darted through the ranks of the

spectators, and dashed, headlong, with frantic cries, into the depths of

the neighboring thickets. Then followed another class of actors. As if

a sudden and terrible doom overhung the nation, the Indian women set up

cries of grief and lamentation. Their passion grew to madness. In their

rage, the mothers seized upon the young virgins of the tribe, and, with

the sharp edges of muscle shells, they lanced their arms, till the blood

gushed forth in free streams, which they eagerly flung into the air,

crying aloud at every moment, "He-to-yah! He-to-yah! He-to-yah!"[11]

[11] Adair likens the cry of the Southern Indians to the sacred

name among the Jews--"Je-ho-vah." He writes the Indian syllables

thus--"Yo-he-wah," and it constitutes one of his favorite arguments

for deducing the origin of the North American red-men from the ancient

Hebrews.

These ceremonies, though not more meaningless, perhaps, in the eyes of

the Christian, than would be our most solemn religious proceedings in

those of the Indian, provoked the laughter of Albert and some of

his Frenchmen. This circumstance awakened the indignation of their

excellent friend, Audusta. His displeasure was now still farther

increased by a proceeding of Captain Albert. It was an attempt upon

their mysteries. That portion of the officiating priesthood--their

Iawas--who fled from the sacred enclosure to deep recesses of the woods,

sought there for the prosecution, in secret, of rites too holy for the

vulgar eye. Here they maintained their _sanctum sanctorum_. This was

the place consecrated to the communion of the god with his immediate

servants--the holy of holies, which it was death to penetrate or pass.

Albert suffered his curiosity to get the better of his discretion.

Offended by the laughter of the Frenchmen, at what they had already

beheld, and fearing lest their audacity should lead them farther, the

king, Audusta, had gathered them again within the royal wigwam, where he

sought, by marked kindness and distinction, to make them forgetful

of what had been denied. They had seen, as he told them, the more

impressive portions of the ceremonial. There were others, but not of a

kind to interest them. But the fact that there was something to conceal,

stimulated the curiosity of Albert. In due degree with the king's

anxiety to keep his secret, was that of the French captain's to fathom

it. Holding a brief consultation with his men, accordingly, he declared

his desire to this effect; and proposed, that one of their number should

contrive to steal forth, and, finding his way to the forbidden spot,

should place himself in such a position as would enable him to survey

all the mysterious proceedings. To this course, Guernache frankly

opposed his opinions. His greater intimacy with the red-men led him

properly to conceive the danger which might ensue, from their discovery

of the intrusion. He had been well taught by Monaletta, the degree of

importance which they attached to the security of their mystic rites.

Arguing with the honesty of his character, he warned his captain of

the risk which such unbecoming curiosity would incur--the peril to the

offender, himself, if detected; and the hazards to the colony from

the loss of that friendship to which they had been already so largely

indebted. But the counsels of Guernache were rejected with indignity.

Prepared, already, to regard him with dislike and suspicion, Albert

heard his suggestions only as so much impertinence; and rudely commanded

him not to forget himself and place, nor to thrust his undesired

opinions upon the consideration of gentlemen. The poor fellow was

effectually silenced by this rebuke. He sank out of sight, and presumed

no farther to advise. But the counsel was not wholly thrown away.

Disregarded by Albert, it was caught up, and insisted on, by others, who

had better conventional claims to be heard, and the proposition might

have been defeated but for the ready interposition of one Pierre Renaud,

a young fellow, who, perceiving the captain's strong desire to seek out

the mystery, and anxious to ingratiate himself with that person, boldly

laughed at the fears of the objectors, and volunteered, himself, to

defy the danger, in his own person, in order to gratify his chief. This

silenced the controversy. Albert readily availed himself of the offer,

and Pierre Renaud was commanded to try his fortune. This he did, and,

notwithstanding the surveillance maintained over them by Audusta and his

attendants, "he made such shift, that, by subtle meanes, he gotte out of

the house of Audusta, and secretly went and hid himselfe behinde a

very thick bush, where, at his pleasure, he might easily descry the

ceremonies of the feaste."

We will leave Renaud thus busy in his espionage, while we rehearse the

manner in which the venerable Audusta proceeded to treat his company.

A substantial feast was provided for them, consisting of venison, wild

fowl, and fruits. Their breadstuffs were maize, batatas, and certain

roots sodden first in water, and then prepared in the sun. A drink was

prepared from certain other roots, which, though bitter, was refreshing

and slightly stimulant. Our Frenchmen, in the absence of the beverages

of Italy and France, did not find it unpalatable. They ate and drank

with a hearty relish, which gratified the red-men, who lavished on them

a thousand caresses. The feast was followed by the dance. In a spacious

area, surrounded by great ranks of oaks, cedars, pines, and other trees,

they assembled, men and women, in their gayest caparison. The men were

tatooed and painted, from head to foot, and not inartistically, in the

most glowing colors. Birds and beasts were figured upon their breasts,

and huge, strange reptiles were made to coil up and around their legs

and arms. From their waists depended light garments of white cotton, the

skirts being trimmed with a thick fringe of red or scarlet. Some of them

wore head-dresses consisting of the skins of snakes, or eagles, the

panther or the wild cat, which, stuffed ingeniously, were made to sit

erect above the forehead, and to look abroad, from their novel place of

perch, in a manner equally natural and frightful. The women were habited

in a similarly wild but less offensive manner. The taste which presided

in their decorations, was of a purer and a gentler fashion. Their cheeks

were painted red, their arms, occasionally but slightly tattooed, and

sometimes the figure of a bird, a flower or a star, might be seen

engrained upon the breast. A rather scanty robe of white cotton

concealed, in some degree, the bosom, and extended somewhat below the

knees. Around the necks of several, were hung thick strands of native

pearls, partially discolored by the action of fire which had been

employed to extricate them from the shells. Pearls were also mingled

ingeniously with the long tresses of their straight, black hair;

trailing with it, in not unfrequent instances, even to the ground.

Others, in place of this more valuable ornament, wore necklaces, anklets

and tiaras, formed wholly of one or other of the numerous varieties

of little sea shells, by which, after heavy storms, the low and sandy

shores of the country were literally covered. Strings of the same shell

encircled the legs, which were sometimes of a shape to gratify the

nicest exactions of the civilized standard. The forms of our Indian

damsels were generally symmetrical and erect, their movements at once

agile and graceful--their foreheads high, their lips thin, and, with a

soft, persuasive expression, inclining to melancholy; while their eyes,

black and bright, always shone with a peculiar forest fire that seemed

happily to consort with their dark, but not unpleasing complexions.

Well, indeed, with a pardonable vanity, might their people call them the

"Daughters of the Sun." He had made them his, by his warmest and fondest

glances. These were the women, whose descendants, in after days, as

Yemassees and Muscoghees and Seminoles, became the scourge of so large

a portion of the Anglo-American race.

When the Frenchmen beheld this rude, but really brilliant assemblage,

and saw what an attractive show the young damsels made, they were

delighted beyond measure. Visions of the rout and revel, as enjoyed in

_La Belle France_, glanced before their fancies; and the lively capering

that followed among the young Huguenots, informed Captain Albert of the

desire which was felt by all. In stern, compelling accents, he bade

Guernache take his violin, and provide the music, while the rest

prepared to dance. But Guernache excused himself, alleging the want of

strings for his instrument. These were shown, in a broken state, to

his commander. He had broken them, we may state _en passant_, for the

occasion. His pride had been hurt by the treatment of his captain.

He felt that the purpose of the latter was to degrade him. Such a

performance as that required at his hands, was properly no part of his

duty; and his proud spirit revolted at the idea of contributing, in any

way, to the wishes of his superior, when the object of the latter was

evidently his own degradation. Albert spoke to him testily, and with

brows that did not seek to subdue or conceal their frowns. But Guernache

was firm, and though he studiously forebore, by word or look, to

increase the provocation which he had already given, he yet made no

effort to pacify the imperious nature which he had offended. The excuse

was such as could not but be taken. There was the violin, indeed, but

there, also, were the broken strings. Albert turned from the musician

with undisguised loathing; and the poor fellow sunk back with a secret

presentiment of evil. He but too well knew the character of his

superior.

Meanwhile, the red men had resort to their own primitive music. Their

instruments consisted of simple reeds, which, bound together, were

passed, to and fro, beneath the lips and discoursed very tolerable

harmonies;--and a rude drum formed by stretching a raw deer skin over

the mouth of a monstrous calabash, enabled them, when the skin had been

contracted in the sun, to extort from it a very tolerable substitute for

the music of the tambourine. There were other instruments, susceptible

of sound if not of sweetness. Numerous damsels, none over fifteen, lithe

and graceful, carried in their hands little gourds, which were filled

with shells and pebbles, and tied over with skins, dried also in the

sun. With these, as they danced, they kept time so admirably as might

have charmed the most practised European master. Thus, all provided,

some with the drum, and others with flute-like reeds and hollow,

tinkling gourds, they only awaited the summons of their partners to

the area. Shaking their tinkling gourds, as if in pretty impatience

at the delay, the girls each waited, with anxious looks, the signal

from her favorite.

The Frenchmen were not slow in seeking out their partners. At the word

and signal of their captain, they dashed in among the laughing group of

dusky maidens, each seeking for the girl whose beauties had been most

grateful to his tastes. Nor was Captain Albert, himself, with all his

pride and asceticism, unwilling to forget his dignity for a season, and

partake of the rude festivities of the occasion. When, indeed, did

mirth and music fail to usurp dominion in the Frenchman's heart? Albert

greedily cast his eyes about, seeking a partner, upon whom he might

bestow his smiles. He was not slow in the selection. It so happened,

that Monaletta, the spouse of Guernache, was not only one of the

loveliest damsels present, but she was well known as the niece of King

Audusta. Her beauty and royal blood, equally commended her to the favor

of our captain. She stood apart from all the rest, stately and graceful

as the cedar, not seeming to care for the merriment in which all were

now engaged. There was a dash of sadness in her countenance. Her

thoughts were elsewhere--her eyes scarcely with the assembly, when the

approach of Albert startled her from her reverie. He came as Cæsar did,

to certain conquest; and was about to take her hand, as a matter of

course, when he was equally astounded and enraged to find her draw it

away from his grasp.

"You will not dance with _me_, Monaletta?"

"No," she answered him in broken French--"No dance with you--dance with

_him_!" pointing to Guernache.

Speaking these words, she crossed the floor, with all the bold

imprudence of a truly loving heart, to the place where stood our

sorrowful and unhappy violinist. He had followed the movements of

Albert, with looks of most serious apprehension, and his heart had sunk,

with a sudden terror, when he saw that he approached Monaletta. The

scene which followed, however grateful to his affections, was seriously

calculated to arouse his fears. He feared for Monaletta, as he feared

for himself. Nothing escaped him in the brief interview, and he saw, in

the vindictive glances of Albert, the most evil auguries for the future.

Yet how precious was her fondness to his heart! He half forgot his

apprehensions as he felt her hand upon his shoulder, and beheld her eyes

looking with appealing fondness up into his own. That glance was full of

the sweetest consolation,--and said everything that was grateful to his

terrified affections. She, too, had seen the look of hate and anger in

the face of Albert, and she joyed in the opportunity of rebuking the one

with her disdain, and of consoling the other with her sympathies. It was

an unhappy error. Bitter, indeed, was the look with which the aroused

and mortified Albert regarded the couple as they stood apart from all

the rest. Guernache beheld this look. He knew the meaning of that

answering glance of his superior which encountered his own. His looks

were those of entreaty, of deprecation. They seemed to say, "I feel that

you are offended, but I had no purpose or part in the offence." His

glance of humility met with no answering indulgence. It seemed, indeed,

still farther to provoke his tyrant, who, advancing midway across the

room, addressed him in stern, hissing accents, through his closed and

almost gnashing teeth.

"Away, sirrah, to the pinnace! See that you remain in her until I summon

you! Away!"

The poor fellow turned off from Monaletta. He shook himself free from

the grasp which she had taken of his hand. He prepared to obey the

wanton and cruel order, but he could not forbear saying reproachfully

as he retired--

"You push me too hard, Captain Albert."

"No words, sir! Away!" was the stern response. The submissive fellow

instantly disappeared. With his disappearance, Albert again approached

Monaletta, and renewed his application. But this time he met with a

rejection even more decided than before. He looked to King Audusta; but

an Indian princess, while she remains unmarried, enjoys a degree of

social liberty which the same class of persons in Europe would sigh for

and supplicate in vain. There were no answering sympathies in the king's

face, to encourage Albert in the prosecution of his suit. Nay, he had

the mortification to perceive, from the expression of his countenance,

that his proceedings towards Guernache--who was a general favorite--had

afforded not more satisfaction to him, than they had done to Monaletta.

It was, therefore, in no very pleasant mood with himself and those

around him, that our captain consoled himself in the dance with

the hand of an inferior beauty. Jealous of temper and frivolous of

mind--characteristics which are frequently found together--Albert was

very fond of dancing, and enjoyed the sport quite as greatly as any

of his companions. But, even while he capered, his soul, stung and

dissatisfied, was brooding vexatiously over its petty hurts. His

thoughts were busied in devising ways to revenge himself upon the humble

offender by whom his mortification originally grew. Upon this sweet and

bitter cud did he chew while the merry music sounded in his ears,

and the gaily twinkling feet of the dusky maidens were whirling in

promiscuous mazes beneath his eye. But these festivities, and his own

evil meditations, were destined to have an interruption as startling

as unexpected.

While the mirth was at its highest, and the merriment most contagious,

the ears of the assembly were startled by screams, the most terrible, of

fright and anguish. The Frenchmen felt a nameless terror seizing upon

them. The cries and shrieks were from an European throat. Wild was the

discord which accompanied them,--whoops of wrath and vengeance, which,

as evidently issued only from the throats of most infuriated savages.

The music ceased in an instant. The dance was arrested. The Frenchmen

rushed to their arms, fully believing that they were surrounded by

treachery--that they had been beguiled to the feast only to become its

victims. With desperate decision, they prepared themselves for the

worst. While their suspense and fear were at their highest, the cause

of the alarm and uproar soon became apparent to their eyes. Bursting,

like a wounded deer, suddenly, from the woods by which the dwelling of

Audusta was surrounded, a bloody figure, ghastly and spotted, appeared

before the crowd. In another moment the Frenchmen recognized the spy,

Pierre Renaud, who had volunteered to get at the heart of the Indian

mysteries--to follow the priesthood to their sacred haunts, and gather

all the secrets of their ceremonials.

We have already seen that he reached his place of watch in safety. But

here his good fortune failed him: his place of espionage was not one

of concealment. In the wild orgies of their religion,--for they seem

to have practised rites not dissimilar to, and not less violent and

terrible than those of the British Druids,--the priests darted over the

crouching spy. Detected in the very act, where he lay, "squat like a

toad," the Iawas fell upon him with the sharp instruments of flint

with which they had been lancing and lacerating their own bodies. With

these they contrived, in spite of all his struggles and entreaties, to

inflict upon him some very severe wounds. Their rage was unmeasured, and

the will to slay him was not wanting. But Renaud was a fellow equally

vigorous and active. He baffled their blows as well as he could, and at

length breaking from their folds, he took fairly to his heels. Howling

with rage and fury, they darted upon his track, their wild shrieks

ringing through the wood like those of so many demons suffering in

mortal agony. They cried to all whom they saw, to stay and slay the

offender. Others joined in the chase, as they heard this summons. But

fortune favored the fugitive. His terror added wings to his flight.

He was not, it seems, destined to such a death as they designed him.

He outran his pursuers, and, dodging those whom he accidentally

encountered, he made his way into the thick of the area, where his

comrades, half bewildered by the uproar, were breaking up the dance. He

sank down in the midst of them, exhausted by loss of blood and fatigue,

only a moment before the appearance of his pursuers.

The French instantly closed around their companion. They had not put

aside their weapons, and they now prepared themselves to encounter the

worst. The aspect of the danger was threatening in the last degree. The

Iawas were boiling with sacred fury. They were the true rulers of their

people. Their will was sovereign over the popular moods. They demanded,

with violent outcry, the blood of the individual by whom their sacred

retreats had been violated, and their shekinah polluted by vulgar and

profane presence. They demanded the blood of _all_ the Frenchmen, as

participating in the crime. They called upon Audusta to assert his

own privileges and theirs. They appealed to the people in a style of

phrenzied eloquence, the effects of which were soon visible in the

inflamed features and wild action of the more youthful warriors.

Already were these to be seen slapping their sides, tossing their hands

in air, and, with loud shrieks, lashing themselves into a fury like

that which enflamed their prophets. King Audusta looked confounded.

The Frenchmen were his guests. He had invited them to partake of his

hospitality, and to enjoy the rites of his religion. He was in some sort

pledged for their safety, though one of them had violated the conditions

of their coming. His own feelings revolted at giving any sanction for

the assault, yet he appeared unable or unwilling to resist the clamors

of the priesthood. But _he_ also demanded, though with evident

reluctance, the blood of the offender. He was not violent, though

urgent, in this demand. He showed indignation rather than hostility;

and he gave Albert to understand that in no way could the people or the

priesthood be appeased, unless by the sacrifice of the guilty person.

But Albert could not yield the victim. The French were prepared to

perish to a man before complying with any such demand. They were firm.

They fenced him in with their weapons, and declared their readiness to

brave every peril ere they would abandon their comrade. This resolution

was the more honorable, as Pierre Renaud was no favorite among them.

Though seriously disquieted by the event, and apprehensive of the issue,

Albert was man enough to second their spirit. Besides, Renaud had been

his own emissary in the adventure which threatened to terminate so

fatally. His denial was inferred from his deportment; and the clamor of

the Indians was increased. The rage of the Iawas was renewed with the

conviction that no redress was to be given them. Already had the young

warriors of Audusta procured their weapons. More than an hundred of

them surrounded our little band of Frenchmen, who were only thirteen

in number. Bows were bent, lances were set in rest, javelins were seen

lifted, and ready to be thrown; and the drum which had been just made to

sound, in lively tones, for the dance, now gave forth the most dismal

din, significant of massacre and war. Already were to be seen, in the

hands of some more daring Indian than the rest, the heavy war-club,

or the many-teethed macana, waving aloft and threatening momently to

descend upon the victim; and nothing was wanting but a first blow to

bring on a general massacre. Suddenly, at this perilous moment, the

fiddle of Guernache was heard without; followed, in a moment after,

by the appearance of the brave fellow himself. Darting in between the

opposing ranks, attended by the faithful Monaletta, with a grand crash

upon his instrument, now newly-strung, followed by a rapid gush of the

merriest music, he took both parties by the happiest surprise, and

instantly produced a revulsion of feeling among the savages as complete

as it was sudden.

"Ami! ami! ami!" was the only cry from an hundred voices, at the

reappearance of Guernache among them. They had acquired this friendly

epithet among the first words which they had learned at their coming,

from the French; and their affection for our fiddler had made its

application to himself, in particular, a thing of general usage. He

_was_ their friend. He had shown himself their friend, and they had a

faith in _him_ which they accorded to no other of his people. The people

were with him, and the priesthood not unfriendly. Time was gained

by this diversion; and, in such an outbreak as that which has been

described, time is all that is needful, perhaps, to stay the arm of

slaughter. Guernache played out his tune, and cut a few pleasant

antics, in which the now happy Monaletta, though of the blood royal,

readily joined him. The musician had probably saved the party

from massacre. The subsequent work of treaty and pacification was

comparatively easy. Pierre Renaud was permitted to depart for the

pinnace, under the immediate care of Guernache and Monaletta. The Iawas

received some presents of gaudy costume, bells, and other gew-gaws,

while a liberal gift of knives and beads gratified their warriors and

their women. The old ties of friendship were happily reunited, and

the calumet went round, from mouth to mouth, in token of restored

confidence and renewed faith. Before nightfall, happily relieved from

his apprehensions, Albert, with his detachment, was rapidly making his

way with his pinnace, down the waters of the swiftly-rolling Edisto.

V.

THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE.--Chap. III.

The Legend of Guernache is continued, showing how the Fortress of the

Huguenots was destroyed, and what happened thereafter to Guernache

the Musician.

The fidelity which Guernache had shown in the recent difficulty with

the Indians, did not appear to lessen in any degree the unfavorable

impressions which Capt. Albert had received of that worthy fellow.

Indeed, the recent and remarkable service which he had rendered, by

which, in all probability, the whole party had been preserved from

massacre, rather increased, if any thing, the hostile temper of his

superior. The evil spirit still raged within the bosom of Capt. Albert,

utterly baffling a judgment at no period of particular excellence, and

blinding every honorable sentiment which might have distinguished him

under other influences. He was now doubly mortified, that he should

be supposed to owe his present safety to the person he had wronged--a

mortification which found due increase as he remembered how much greater

had been the respect and deference of the savages for his drummer than

for himself. This recollection was a perpetual goad to that working

malice in his heart, which was already busied in devising schemes of

revenge, which were to salve his hurts of pride and vanity, by the

sufferings as well as humiliation of his subordinate. It will scarcely

be believed that, when fairly out of sight of the village of Audusta, he

rebuked Guernache sharply, for leaving the pinnace against his orders,

and even spoke of punishing him for this disobedience.[12] But the

murmurs of some of his officers, and, perhaps, a little lurking

sentiment of shame in his own bosom, prevented him from attempting any

such disgraceful proceeding. But the feeling of hostility only rankled

the more because of its suppression, and he soon contrived to show

Guernache and, indeed, everybody besides, that from that hour he was his

most bitter and unforgiving enemy, with a little and malignant spirit,

he employed various petty arts, which a superior of a base nature may

readily command on all occasions, by which to make the poor fellow feel

how completely he was at his mercy; and each day exposed him to

some little snare, or some stern caprice, by which Guernache became

involuntarily an offender. His tyrant subjected him to duties the most

troublesome and humiliating, while denying, or stinting him of all

those privileges which were yet commonly accorded to his comrades. But

all this would have been as nothing to Guernache, if he had not been

denied permission to visit, as before, the hamlet of Audusta, where his

princess dwelt. On the miserable pretext that the priesthood might

revenge upon him the misconduct of Renaud, Albert insisted upon his

abstaining wholly from the Indian territories. But this pretence

deceived nobody, and nobody less than Guernache. Little did the petty

tyrant of Fort Charles imagine that the object of his malice enjoyed a

peculiar source of consolation for all these privations. His comrades

were his friends. They treated him with a warmth and kindness,

studiously proportioned to the ill-treatment of his superior.

They assisted him in the severer tasks which were allotted him to

fulfil--gave him their company whenever this was possible, while he was

engaged in the execution of his most cheerless duties, and soothed his

sorrows by the expression of their almost unanimous sympathies. Nor

did they always withhold their bitter denunciations of the miserable

despotism under which he suffered, and which they feared. Dark hints of

remedy were spoken, brows frowned at the mention of the wrongs of their

companion, and the head shaken ominously, when words of threatening

significance were uttered--appealed gratefully to certain bitter desires

which had taken root in the mind of the victim. But these sympathies,

though grateful, were of small amount in comparison with another

source of consolation, which contributed to sustain Guernache in his

tribulation. This was found in the secret companionship of his young and

beautiful Indian wife. Denied to see him at the village of Audusta, the

fond and fearless woman determined to seek him at all hazards in his own

domain. She stole away secretly to the fortress of the Huguenots. Long

and earnest was the watch which she maintained upon its portals, from

the thickets of the neighboring wood. Here, vigilant as the sentinel

that momently expects his foe, she harbored close, in waiting for the

beloved one. Her quick instincts had already taught her the true cause

of his denial, and of her disappointment; and her Indian lessons had

made that concealment, which she now believed to be necessary to her

purpose, a part of the habitual policy of her people. She showed herself

to none of the people of the fortress. She suspected them all; she

had no faith but in the single one. And he, at length, came forth,

unaccompanied, in the prosecution of an occasional labor--that of

cutting and procuring wood. She suffered him to make his way into the

forests--to lose sight of the fortress, and, with a weary spirit and

a wounded soul, to begin his lonely labors with the axe. Then did she

steal behind him, and beside him; and when he moaned aloud--supposing

that he had no auditor--how startling fell upon his ear the sweet, soft

whisper of that precious voice which he had so lovingly learned to

distinguish from all others. He turned with a gush of rapturous delight,

and, weeping, she rushed into his arms, pouring forth, in a wild cry,

upon his breast, the whole full volume of her warm, devoted heart!

[12] Charlevoix thus describes Captain Albert: "Le Commandant

de Charles-Fort étoit un homme de main, et qui ne manquoit pas

absolument de conduite, mais il étoit brutal jusqu'à la férocité, et

ne sçavoit pas meme garder les bienséances........ Il punissoit les

moindres fautes, and toujours avec excès, &c."--N. France, Liv. 1, p.

51.

That moment, in spite of all his fears, was amply compensative to

Guernache for all his troubles. He forgot them all in the intensity of

his new delights. And when Monaletta led him off from his tasks to

the umbrageous retreat in the deeper woods where her nights had been

recently passed,--when she conducted him to the spot where her own hands

had built a mystic bower for her own shelter--when she declared her

purpose still to occupy this retreat, in the solitude alone,--that she

might be ever near him, to behold him at a distance, herself unseen,

when he came forth accompanied by others--to join him, to feel his

embrace, hear his words of love, and assist him in his labors when he

came forth unattended--when, speaking and promising thus, she lay upon

the poor fellow's bosom, looking up with tearful and bright eyes in his

wan and apprehensive countenance--then it was that he could forget

his tyrant--could lose his fears and sorrows in his love, and in the

enjoyment of moments the most precious to his heart, forget all the

accompanying influences which might endanger his safety.

But necessity arose sternly between the two, and pointed to the

exactions of duty. The tasks of Guernache were to be completed. His

axe was required to sound among the trees of the forest, and a certain

number of pieces of timber were required by sunset at his hands. It was

surprising as it was sweet to behold the Indian woman as she assisted

him in his tasks. Her strength did not suffice for the severer toils of

the wood-cutter, but she contrived a thousand modes for contributing to

his performances. Love lightens every labor, and invents a thousand arts

by which to do so. Monaletta anticipated the wants of Guernache. She

removed the branches as he smote them, she threw the impediments from

his way,--helped him to lift and turn the logs as each successive side

was to be hewn. She brought him water, when he thirsted, from the

spring. She spoke and sung to him in the most encouraging voice when

he was weary. He was never weary when with her.

Guernache combatted her determination to remain in the neighborhood

of the fortress; but his objections were feebly urged, and she soon

overcame them. He had not the courage to insist upon his argument, as

he had not the strength to resist the consolations which her presence

brought him. She soon succeeded in assuring him that there was little or

no danger of detection by their enemy. She laughed at the idea of the

Frenchmen discovering her place of concealment, surprising her in her

progress through the woods, or overtaking her in flight; and Guernache

knew enough of Indian subtlety readily to believe that the white was no

match for the dusky race in the exercise of all those arts which are

taught by forest life. "But her loneliness and privation, exposed to

the season's changes, and growing melancholy in the absence from old

associates?" But how could she be lonely, was her argument, when near

the spot where he dwelt--when she could see and hear and speak with him

occasionally? She wished no other communion. As for the exposure of her

present abode, was it greater than that to which the wandering life of

the red-man subjects his people at all seasons? The Indian woman is

quite as much at home in the forest as the Indian warrior. She acquires

her resources of strength and dexterity in his company, and by the

endurance of similar necessities and the employment of like exercises.

She learns even in childhood to build her own green bower at night,

to gather her own fuel, light her own fire, dress her own meat--nay,

provide it; and, weaponed with bow, and javelin and arrow, bring down

buck or doe bounding at full speed through the wildest forests. Her

skill and spirit are only not equal to those of the master by whom

she is taught, but she acquires his arts to a degree which makes her

sometimes worthy to be lifted by the tribe from her own rank into his.

Monaletta reminded Guernache of all these things. She had the most

conclusive and convincing methods of argument. She reassured him on all

his doubts, and, in truth, it was but too easy to do so. It was unhappy

for them both, as we shall see hereafter, that the selfish passion of

the poor musician too readily reconciled him to a self-devotion on the

part of his wife, which subjected her to his own perils, and greatly

tended to their increase. With the evil eye of Albert upon him, he

should have known that safety was impossible for him in the event of

error. And error was inevitable now, with the pleasant tempter so near

his place of coventry. We must not wonder to discover now that Guernache

seldom sleeps within the limits of the fortress. At midnight, when all

is dark and quiet, he leaps over the walls, those nights excepted when

it is his turn of duty to watch within. His secret is known to some of

his comrades; but they are too entirely his friends to betray him to a

despot who had, by this time, outraged the feelings of most of those who

remained under his command. Guernache was now enabled to bear up more

firmly than ever against the tyranny of Albert. His, indeed, were

nights of happiness. How sweetly sped the weeks, in which, despite his

persecutions, he felt that he enjoyed a life of luxurious pleasures,

such as few enjoy in any situation. His were the honest excitements

of a genuine passion, which, nourished by privation and solitude, and

indulged in secresy, was of an intensity corresponding with the apparent

denial, and the real embarrassments of such a condition. His pleasures

were at once stolen and legitimate; the apprehension which attends their

pursuit giving a wild zest to their enjoyment; though, in the case of

Guernache, unlike that of most of those who indulge in stolen joys,

they were honest, and left no cruel memories behind them.

It was the subject of a curious study and surprise to Captain Albert,

that our musician was enabled to bear up against his tyranny with so

much equal firmness and forbearance. He watched the countenance of

Guernache, whenever they met, with a curious interest. By what secret

resource of fortitude and hope was it that he could command so much

elasticity, exhibit so much cheerfulness, bear with so much meekness,

and utter no complaint. He wondered that the irksome duties which he

studiously thrust upon him, and the frequently brutal language with

which his performances were acknowledged, seemed to produce none of the

cruel effects which he desired. His victim grew neither sad nor sullen.

His violin still was heard resounding merrily at the instance of his

comrades; and still his hearty, whole-souled laughter rang over the

encampment, smiting ungraciously upon the senses of his basely-minded

chief. In vain did this despot study how to increase and frame new

annoyances for his subordinate. His tyranny contrived daily some new

method to make the poor fellow unhappy. But, consoled by the peculiar

secret which he possessed, of sympathy and comfort, the worthy drummer

bore up cheerfully under his afflictions. He was resolved to wait

patiently the return of Ribault with the promised supplies for the

colony, and meanwhile to submit to his evil destiny without a murmur. It

was always with a secret sense of triumph that he reminded himself of

the near neighborhood of his joys, and he exulted in the success with

which he could baffle nightly the malice of his superior. But, however

docile, the patience and forbearance of Guernache availed him little.

They did not tend to mitigate the annoyances which he was constantly

compelled to endure. We are now to recall a portion of the preceding

narrative, and to remind our reader of the visit which Captain Albert

paid to the territories of Ouade, and the generous hospitalities of the

King thereof. Guernache had been one of the party, and the absence

of several days had been a serious loss to him in the delightful

intercourse with his dusky bride. He might naturally hope, after his

return from a journey so fatiguing, to be permitted a brief respite from

his regular duties. But this was not according to the policy of his

malignant superior. Some hours were consumed after arriving at the fort,

in disposing of the provisions which had been obtained. In this labor

Guernache had been compelled to partake with others of his companions.

Whether it was that he betrayed an unusual degree of eagerness in

getting through his task--showing an impatience to escape which his

enemy detected and resolved to baffle, cannot now be said; but to his

great annoyance and indignation, he was burdened with a portion of the

watch for the night--a duty which was clearly incumbent only upon those

who had not shared in the fatigues of the expedition. But to expostulate

or repine was alike useless, and Guernache submitted to his destiny with

the best possible grace. The provisions were stored, the gates closed,

the watches set, and the garrison sunk to sleep, leaving our unhappy

musician to pace, for several hours, the weary watch along the ramparts.

How he looked forth into the dense forests which harbored his Monaletta!

How he thought of the weary watch she kept! What were her fears, her

anxieties? Did she know of his return? Did she look for his coming?

The garrison slept--the woods were mysteriously silent! How delightful

it would be to surprise her in the midst of her dreams, and answer

to her murmurs of reproach--uttered in the sweetest fragmentary

Gallic--"Monaletta! I am here! Here is your own Guernache!"

The temptation was perilously sweet! The suggestion was irresistible;

and, in a moment of excited fancy and passion, Guernache laid down his

piece, and leaped the walls of the fortress. He committed an unhappy

error to enjoy a great happiness, for which the penalties were not slow

to come. In the dead of midnight, the garrison, still in a deep sleep,

they were suddenly aroused in terror by the appalling cry of "fire!" The

fort, the tenements in which they slept, the granary, which had just

been stored with their provisions, were all ablaze, and our Frenchmen

woke in confusion and terror, unknowing where to turn, how to work, or

what to apprehend. Their military stores were saved--their powder and

munitions of war--but the "mils and beanes," so recently acquired from

the granaries of King Ouade, with the building that contained them, were

swept in ashes to the ground.

This disaster, full of evil in itself, was productive of others, as it

led to the partial discovery of the secret of our drummer. Guernache was

not within the fort when the alarm was given. It is not improbable that,

had he not left his post, the conflagration would have been arrested in

time to save the fort and its provisions. His absence was noted, and he

was discovered, approaching from the forests, by those who bore forth

the goods as they were rescued from the flames. These were mostly

friends of Guernache, who would have maintained a generous silence; but,

unhappily, Pierre Renaud was also one of the discoverers. This person

not only bore him no good will,--though gratitude for the service

rendered him at the feast of Toya should have bound him forever to the

cause of Guernache,--but he was one who had become a gross sycophant and

the mere creature of the governor. He knew the hatred which the latter

bore to Guernache, and a sympathizing nature led him promptly to divine

the cause. Overjoyed with the discovery which he had made, the base

fellow immediately carried the secret to his master, and when the first

confusion was over, which followed the disaster, Guernache was taken

into custody, and a day assigned for his trial as a criminal. To him was

ascribed the fire as well as desertion from his post. The latter fact

was unquestionable--the former was inferred. It might naturally be

assumed, indeed, that, if the watch had not been abandoned, the flames

could not have made such fearful headway. It was fortunate for our

Frenchmen that the intercourse maintained with the Indians had been of

such friendly character. With the first intimation of their misfortune,

the kings, Audusta and Maccou, bringing with them a numerous train of

followers, came to assist them in the labor of restoration and repair.

"They uttered unto their subjects the speedy diligence which they were

to use in building another house, showing unto them that the Frenchmen

were their loving friends and that they had made it evident unto them

by the gifts and presents which they had received;--protesting that he

whosoever put not his helping hand to the worke with all his might,

should be esteemed as unprofitable." The entreaties and commands of the

two kings were irresistible. But for this, our Huguenots, "being farre

from all succours, and in such extremitie," would have been, in the

language of their own chronicler, "quite and cleane out of all hope."

The Indians went with such hearty good will to the work, and in such

numbers, that, in less than twelve hours, the losses of the colonists

were nearly all repaired. New houses were built; new granaries erected;

and, among the fabrics of this busy period, it was not forgotten to

construct a keep--a close, dark, heavy den of logs, designed as a

prison, into which, as soon as his Indian friends had departed, our

poor fiddler, Guernache, was thrust, neck and heels! The former were

rewarded and went away well satisfied with what they had seen and done.

They little conjectured the troubles which awaited their favorite. He

was soon brought to trial under a number of charges--disobedience of

orders, neglect of duty, desertion of his post, and treason! To all of

these, the poor fellow pleaded "_not guilty_;" and, with one exception,

with a good conscience. But he had not the courage to confess the truth,

and to declare where he had been, and on what mission, when he left the

fort, on the night of the fire. He had committed a great fault, the

consequences of which were serious, and might have been still more

so; and the pleas of invariable good conduct, in his behalf, and the

assertion of his innocence of all evil intention, did not avail. His

judges were not his friends; he was found guilty and remanded to his

dungeon, to await the farther caprices and the judgment of his enemy.

VI.

THE LEGEND OF GUERNACHE.--Chap. IV.

THE DUNGEON AND THE SCOURGE.

Being the continuation of the melancholy Legend of Guernache.

The absence of Guernache from his usual place of meeting with

Monaletta, brought the most impatient apprehension to the heart of

the devoted woman. As the time wore away--as night after night passed

without his coming, she found the suspense unendurable, and gradually

drew nigh to the fortress of the Huguenots. More than once had he

cautioned her against incurring a peril equally great to them both. But

her heart was already too full of fears to be restrained by such dangers

as he alone could have foreseen; and she now lurked about the fort at

nightfall, and continued to hover around long after dawn, keeping watch

upon its walls and portal. So close and careful, however, was this

watch, that she herself remained undetected. One day, however, to her

great satisfaction, one of the inmates came forth whom she knew to be a

friend and associate of Guernache. This was one Lachane, affectionately

called _La Chere_[13] by the soldiery, by whom he was very much beloved.

Lachane was a sergeant, a good soldier, brave as a lion, but with as

tender a heart, when the case required it, as ever beat in human bosom.

He had long since learned to sympathize with the fate of Guernache,

and had made frequent attempts to mollify the hostile feelings of his

captain, in behalf of his friend. To the latter he had given much good

counsel; and, but for _his_ earnest entreaties and injunctions, he would

have revealed to Albert the true reason for the absence of Guernache

from his post. But Guernache dreaded, as well he might, that the

revelation would only increase the hate and rage of his superior, and,

perhaps, draw down a portion of his vengeance upon the head of the

unoffending woman. Lachane acquiesced in his reasoning, and was silent.

But he was not the less active in bringing consolation, whenever he

could, to the respective parties. He afforded to Monaletta, whose

approach to the fort he suspected, an opportunity of meeting with him;

and their interviews, once begun, were regularly continued. Day by day

he contrived to convey to her the messages, and to inform her of the

condition of the prisoner; to whom, in turn, he bore all necessary

intelligence, and every fond avowal which was sent by Monaletta. But

the loving and devoted wife was not satisfied with so frigid a mode of

intercourse; and, in an evil hour, Lachane, whose own heart was too

tender to resist the entreaties of one so fond, was persuaded to admit

her within the fort, and into the dungeon of Guernache. We may censure

his prudence and hers, but who shall venture to condemn either? The

first visit led to a second, the second to a third, and, at length,

the meetings between the lovers took place nightly. Lachane, often

entreating, often exhorting, was yet always complying. Monaletta was

admitted at midnight, and conducted forth by the dawn in safety; and

thus meeting, Guernache soon forgot his own danger, and was readily

persuaded by Monaletta to believe that she stood in none. The hours

passed with them as with any other children, who, sitting on the shores

of the sea, in the bright sunset, see not the rising of the waters, and

feel not the falling of the night, until they are wholly overwhelmed.

They were happy, and in their happiness but too easily forgot that there

was such a person as Captain Albert in their little paradise.

[13] The names are thus written by Laudonniere in Hakluyt. But in

Charlevoix there is only one given to this personage, and that is

"Lachau."

But the pitcher which goes often to the well, is at last broken. They

were soon destined to realize the proverb in their own experience.

Something in the movements of Lachane, awakened the suspicions of Pierre

Renaud, whose active hostility to Guernache has been shown already.

This man now bore within the fortress the unenviable reputation of

being the captain's spy upon the people. This miserable creature, his

suspicion's once awakened, soon addressed all his abilities to the task

of detecting the connection of Lachane with his prisoner; and it was not

long before he had the malignant satisfaction of seeing him accompany

another into the dungeon of Guernache. Though it was after midnight when

the discovery was made, it was of a kind too precious to suffer delay

in revealing it, and he hurried at once to the captain's quarters,

well aware that, with such intelligence as he brought, he might safely

venture to disturb him at any hour. But his eagerness did not lessen his

caution, and every step was taken with the greatest deliberation and

care. Albert was immediately aroused; but, unwilling, by a premature

alarm, to afford the offenders an opportunity to escape, or to place

themselves in any situation to defy scrutiny, some time was lost in

making arrangements. The progress of Albert, and his satellites, going

the rounds, was circuitous. The sentries were doubled with singular

secrecy and skill. Such soldiers as were conceived to be most

particularly bound to him, were awakened, and placed in positions most

convenient for action and observation;--for Albert and Renaud, alike,

conscious as it would seem of their own demerits, had come to suspect

many of the soldiers of treachery and insurrection. These, perhaps, are

always the fears most natural to a tyranny. Accordingly, with everything

prepared for an explosion of the worst description, Captain Albert, in

complete armor, made his appearance upon the scene.

Meantime, however, the proceedings of Renaud had not been carried on

without, at length, commanding the attention and awakening the fears of

so good a soldier as Lachane. Having discovered, on his rounds, that the

guards were doubled, and that the sentinel at the sally-port had not

only received a companion, but that the individual by whom Monaletta had

been admitted was now removed to make way for another, he hurried

away to the dungeon of Guernache. Here, whispering hurriedly his

apprehensions, he endeavored to hasten the departure of the Indian

woman. But his efforts were made too late. He was arrested, even while

thus busied, by the Commandant himself, who, followed by Renaud and two

other soldiers, suddenly came upon him from the rear of the building,

where they had been harboring in ambush. Lachane was taken into

immediate custody. An uproar followed, the alarm was given to the

garrison, torches were brought, and Guernache, with the devoted

Monaletta, were dragged forth together from the dungeon. She was wrapped

up closely in the cloak of Lachane, but when Renaud waved a torch before

her eyes, in order to discover who she was, she boldly threw aside the

disguise, and stood revealed to the malignant scrutiny of the astonished

but delighted despot. Upon beholding her, the fury of Albert knew no

bounds. The secret of Guernache was now apparent; and the man whose

vanity she had outraged, by preferring another in the dance, was now in

full possession of the power to revenge himself upon both offenders. In

that very moment, remembering his mortification, he formed a resolution

of vengeance, which declared all the venom of a mean and malignant

nature. He needed no art beyond his own to devise an ingenious torture

for his victim. A few words sufficed to instruct the willing Renaud in

the duty of the executioner. He commanded that the Indian woman should

be scourged from the fort in the presence of the garrison. Then it was

that the sullen soul of Guernache shuddered and succumbed beneath his

tortures. With husky and trembling accents, he appealed to his tyrant

in behalf of the woman of his heart.

"Oh! Captain Albert, as you are a man, do not this cruel thing.

Monaletta is innocent of any crime but that of loving one so worthless

as Guernache. She is my wife! Do with me as you will, but spare

her--have mercy on the innocent woman!"

"Ah! you can humble yourself now, insolent. I have found the way, at

last, to make you feel. You shall feel yet more. I will crush you to the

dust. What, ho! there, Pierre Renaud! Have I not said? the lash! the

lash! Wherefore do ye linger?"

"Do not, Captain Albert! I implore you, for your own sake, do not lay

the accursed lash upon this young and innocent creature. Remember!

She is a woman--a princess--a blood relation of our good friend,

King Audusta. Upon me--upon my back bestow the punishment, but spare

her--spare her, in mercy!"

But the prayers and supplications of the wretched man were met only by

denunciation and scorn. The base nature of Albert felt only his own

mortification. His appetite for revenge darkened his vision wholly. He

saw neither his policy nor humanity; and the creatures of his will were

not permitted to hesitate in carrying out his brutal resolution. Armed

with little hickories from the neighboring woods, they awaited but his

command, and with its repeated utterance, the lash descended heavily

upon the uncovered shoulders of the unhappy woman. With the first

stroke, she bounded from the earth with a piercing shriek, at once of

entreaty, of agony, and horror. Up to this moment, neither she, nor,

indeed, any of the spectators, except Renaud, and possibly Guernache

himself, had imagined that Albert would put in execution a purpose so

equally impolitic and cruel. But when the blow fell upon the almost

fair and naked shoulders of the woman--when her wild, girlish, almost

childlike shriek rent the air, then the long suppressed agonies of

Guernache broke forth in a passion of fury that looked more like the

excess of the madman than the mere ebullition, however intense, of a

simply desperate man. He had struggled long at endurance. He had borne,

hitherto, without flinching, everything in the shape of penalty which

his petty tyrant could fasten upon him--much more, indeed, than the

ordinary nature, vexed with frequent injustice, is willing to endure.

But, in the fury and agony of that humiliating moment, all restraints

of prudence or fear were forgotten, or trampled under foot. He flung

himself loose from the men who held him, and darting upon the individual

by whom the merciless blow had been struck, he felled him to the earth

by a single blow of his Herculean fist. But he was permitted to do no

more. In another instant, grappled by a dozen powerful arms, he was

borne to the earth, and secured with cords which not only bound his

limbs but were drawn so tightly as to cut remorselessly into the flesh.

Here he lay, and his agony may be far more easily conceived than

described, thus compelled to behold the further tortures of the woman of

his heart, without being able to struggle and to die in her defence. His

own tortures were forgotten, as he witnessed hers. In vain would his

ears have rejected the terrible sound, stroke upon stroke, which

testified the continuance of this brutal outrage upon humanity. Without

mercy was the punishment bestowed; and, bleeding at every blow from the

biting scourge, the wretched innocent was at length tortured out of the

garrison. But with that first shriek to which she gave utterance, and

which declared rather the mental horror than the bodily pain which

she suffered from such a cruel degradation, she ceased any longer to

acknowledge her suffering. Oh! very powerful for endurance is the

strength of a loving heart! The rest of the punishment she bore with the

silence of one who suffers martyrdom in the approving eye of heaven; as

if, beholding the insane agonies of Guernache, she had steeled herself

to bear with any degree of torture rather than increase his sufferings

by her complaints. In this manner, and thus silent under her own pains,

she was expelled from the fortress. She was driven to the margin of the

cleared space by which it was surrounded. She heard the shouts which

drove her thence, and heard nothing farther. She had barely strength to

totter forward, like the deer with a mortal hurt, to the secret cover of

the forest, when she sank down in exhaustion;--nature kindly interposing

with insensibility, to save her from those physical sufferings which she

could no longer feel and live!

With the morning of the next day, Guernache was brought before the

judgment-seat of Albert. The charges were sufficiently serious under

which he was arraigned. He had neglected his duty--had permitted, if

not caused, the destruction of the fort by fire--had violated the laws,

resisted their execution, and used violence against the officer of

justice! In this last proven offence all of these which had been alleged

were assumed against him. He was convicted by the rapid action of

his superior, as a traitor and a mutineer; and, to the horror of his

friends, and the surprise of all his comrades, was condemned to

expiate his faults by death upon the gallows. Few of the garrison had

anticipated so sharp a judgment. They knew that Guernache had been

faulty, but they also knew what had been his provocations. They felt

that his faults had been the fruit of the injustice under which he

suffered. But they dared not interpose. The prompt severity with which

Captain Albert carried out his decisions--the merciless character of his

vindictiveness--discouraged even remonstrance. Guernache, as we have

shown, was greatly beloved, and had many true friends among his people;

but they were taken by surprise; and, so much stunned and confounded by

the rapidity with which events had taken place, that they could only

look on the terrible proceedings with a mute and self-reproachful

horror. The transition from the seat of judgment to the place of

execution was instantaneous. Guernache appealed in vain to the justice

of Ribault, whose coming from France was momently expected. This denied,

he implored the less ignoble doom of the sword or the shot, in place of

that upon the scaffold. But it did not suit the mean malice of Albert to

omit any of his tortures. Short was the shrift allowed the victim;--ten

minutes for prayer--and sure the cord which stifled it forever. In deep

horror, in a hushed terror, which itself was full of horror, his gloomy

comrades gathered at the place of execution, by the commands of their

petty despot. There was no concert among them, by which the incipient

indignation and fury in their bosoms might have declared itself in

rescue and commotion. One groan, the involuntary expression of a terror

that had almost ceased to breathe, answered the convulsive motion which

indicated the last struggle of their beloved comrade.[14] Then it was

that they began to feel that they could have died for him, and might

have saved him. But it was now too late; and prudence timely interposed

to prevent a rash explosion. The armed myrmidons of Albert were about

them. He, himself, in complete armor, with his satellite, Pierre Renaud,

also fully armed, standing beside him; and it was evident that every

preparation had been made to quell insubordination, and punish the

refractory with as sharp and sudden a judgment as that which had just

descended upon their comrade.

[14] Says Charlevoix:--"Il pendit lui-même un soldat, qui n'avoit

point merité la mort, il en dégrada un autre des armes avec aussi peu

de justice, puis il l'exila, et l'on crut que son dessein étoit de le

laisser mourir de faim et de misere, etc." But we must not anticipate

the revelations of the text.

The poor Monaletta, crouching in the cover of the woods, recovered from

her stupor in the cool air of the morning, but it was sunset before she

could regain the necessary strength to move. Then it was, that, with the

natural tendency of a loving heart, curious only about the fate of him

for whom alone her heart desired life, she bent her steps towards that

cruel fortress which had been the source of so much misery to both. Very

feeble and slow was her progress, but it was still too rapid; it brought

her too soon to a knowledge of that final blow which fell, with worse

terrors than the scourge, upon the soul. She arrived in season to behold

the form of the unfortunate Guernache, abandoned by all, and totally

lifeless, waving in the wind from the branches of a perished oak,

directly in front of the fortress. The deepest sorrows of the heart are

those which are born dumb. There are some woes which the lip can never

speak, nor the pen describe. There are some agonies over which we draw

the veil without daring to look upon them, lest we freeze to stone in

the terrible inspection. There is no record of that grief which seized

upon the heart of the poor Indian woman, Monaletta, as she gazed upon

the beloved but unconscious form of her husband. She approached it not,

though watching it from sunset till the gray twilight lapsed away into

the denser shadows of the night. But, with the dawn of day, when the

Frenchmen looked forth from the fortress for the body of their comrade,

it had disappeared. They searched for it in vain. From that day

Monaletta disappeared also. She was neither to be found in the

neighboring woods, nor among the people of her kindred. But, long

afterwards they told, with shuddering and apprehension, of a voice

upon the midnight air, which resembled that of their murdered comrade,

followed always by the piercing shriek of a woman, which reminded them

of the dreadful utterance of the Indian woman, when first smitten upon

the shoulders by the lash of the ruffian. Thus endeth the legend of

Guernache, and the Princess Monaletta.

VII.

LACHANE, THE DELIVERER.

But the sacrifice of Guernache brought no peace to the colony. Our

Huguenots were scarcely Christians. They were of a rude, wild temper,

to which the constant civil wars prevailing in France had brought

a prejudicial training. Our chronicler tells us nothing of their

devotions. We hear sometimes that they prayed, but rather for the

benefit of the savages than their own. Their public religious services

were ostentatious ceremonials, designed to impress the red-men with an

idea of their superior faith and worship. Laudonniere, who writes

for them, and was one of their number, seldom deals in a religious

phraseology, which he might reasonably be expected to have done as one

of a people leaving their homes for the sake of conscience. But there is

good reason to suppose that, with our Huguenots, as in the case of the

New England Puritans, the idea of religion was more properly the idea of

party. It was a struggle for political power that moved the Dissenters,

as well in France as England, quite as much as any feeling of denial

or privation on the score of their religion. This pretext was made

to justify a cause which might have well found its sanction in its

intrinsic merits; but which it was deemed politic to urge on the higher

grounds of conscience and duty to God. Certain it is that we do not

anywhere see, in the history of the colony established by Coligny, any

proofs of that strong devotional sentiment which has been urged as the

motive to its establishment. Doubtless, this was a prevailing motive,

along with others, for Coligny himself; but the adventurers chosen

to begin the settlement for the reception of the persecuted sect in

Florida, were evidently not very deeply imbued with religion of any

kind. They were a wild and reckless body of men, whose deeds were wholly

in conflict with the pure and lovely profession of sentiment which has

been made in their behalf. How far their deeds are to be justified by

the provocations which they received, and the tyrannies which they

endured, may be a question; but there can be no question with regard to

the general temper which they exhibited--the tone of their minds--the

feelings of their hearts--by all of which they are shown as stubborn,

insubordinate and selfish. It is not denied that they had great

provocation to violence; but Laudonniere himself admits that they were,

in all probability, "not so obedient to their captain as they should

have been." "Misfortune," he adds, "or rather the just judgment of God

would have it that those which could not bee overcome by fire nor water,

should be undone by their ownselves. This is the common fashion of

men, which cannot continue in one state, and had rather to overthrow

themselves, than not to attempt some new thing dayly."

Not only was no peace in the colony after the execution of Guernache,

but the evil spirit, in the mood of Captain Albert, was very far from

being laid. "His madness," in the language of the chronicler, "seemed to

increase from day to day." He was not content to punish Guernache; he

determined to extend his severities to the friends and associates of

the unhappy victim. Some of these he only frowned upon and threatened;

but his threats were apt to be fulfilled. Others he brought up for

punishment;--sympathy with his enemy, being a prime offence against the

dignity and safety of our petty sovereign. Among those who had thus

rendered themselves obnoxious, Lachane was necessarily a conspicuous

object. In the same unwise and violent spirit in which he had pursued

Guernache, Captain Albert was determined to proceed against this man,

who was really equally inoffensive with Guernache, and quite as much

beloved among the people. But the aspect of the two cases was not

precisely the same. The friends of Lachane, warned by the fate of

Guernache, were somewhat more upon their guard,--more watchful and

suspicious,--and inclined to make the support and maintenance of the

one, a tribute to the manes of the other. Besides, Pierre Renaud, who

had some how been the deadly enemy of Guernache, had no hostility to

Lachane. The latter, too, had not so singularly offended the _amour

propre_ of Captain Albert, by his successful rivalry among the damsels

of Audusta. They had not so decidedly shown the preference for him as

they had for the fiddler, over his superior. No doubt he was preferred,

for he, too, like Guernache, was a person very superior in form and

physiognomy to Albert. But, if they felt any preference for the former,

they had not so offensively declared it, as the indiscreet Monaletta had

done; and, with these qualifying circumstances, in his favor, Lachane

was brought up for judgment. His offence, such as it was, did not admit

of denial. Some palliation was attempted by a reference to the claims

of Guernache, the excellence of his character, his usefulness, and the

general favor he had found equally among the red-men and his own people.

These suggestions were unwisely made. They censured equally the justice

and the policy of the tyrant, and thus irritated anew his self-esteem.

He thought himself exceedingly merciful, accordingly, in banishing the

offender, whom it was just as easy and quite as agreeable to him, to

hang. Lachane was accordingly sentenced to perpetual exile to a desert

island along the sea. To this point he was conducted in melancholy

state, by the trusted creatures of the despot.

It is not known to us at the present day, though the matter is still,

probably, within the province of the antiquarian, to which of the

numerous sea islands of the neighborhood the unhappy man was banished.

It was one divided from the colony, and from the main, by an arm of

the sea of such breadth, and so open to the most violent action of the

waves, that any return of the exile by swimming, or without assistance

from his comrades, was not apprehended or hoped for. His little desolate

domain is described as about three leagues from Fort Charles, as almost

entirely barren, a mere realm of sand, treeless and herbless, without

foliage sufficient to shelter from sun and storm, or to provide against

famine by its fruits. Should this island ever be identified with that of

Lachane's place of exile, it should receive his name to the exclusion of

every other.

Here, then, hopeless and companionless, was the unhappy victim destined

to remain, until death should bring him that escape which the mercy of

his fellows had denied. Yet he was not to be abandoned wholly; a certain

pittance of provisions was allowed him that he might not absolutely

die of famine. This allowance was calculated nicely against his merest

necessities. It was to be brought him on the return of every eighth day,

and this period was that, accordingly, on which, alone, could he be

permitted to gaze upon the face of a fellow being and a countryman.

Certainly, a more cruel punishment, adopted in a mere wanton exercise

of despotic power, could not have been devised for any victim by the

ingenuity of any superior. Death, even the death by which Guernache had

perished, had been a doom more merciful; for if, as was the case, the

colonists at Fort Charles themselves had already begun to find their

condition of solitude almost beyond endurance--if they, living as they

did together, cheered by the exercise of old sports and homely converse,

the ties and assurances of support and friendship, the consciousness

of strength--duties which were necessary and not irksome, and the

interchange of thoughts which enliven the desponding temper;--if,

with all these resources in their favor, they had sunk into gloomy

discontent, eager for change, and anxious for the returning vessels of

Ribault, that they might abandon for their old, the new home which they

found so desolate; what must have been the sufferings and agonies of him

whom they had thus banished, even from such solace as they themselves

possessed--uncheered even by the familiar faces and the well-known

voices of his fellows, and deprived of all the resources whereby

ingenuity might devise some methods of relief, and totally unblessed by

any of those exercises which might furnish a substitute for habitual

employments. No sentence, more than this, could have shown to our

Frenchmen so completely the utter absence of sympathy between themselves

and their commander; could have shown how slight was the value which he

put upon their lives, and with what utter contempt he regarded their

feelings and affections. Albert little dreamed how actively he was at

work, while thus feeding his morbid passions, in arousing the avenging

spirit by which they were to be scourged and punished.

These rash and cruel proceedings of their chief produced a great and

active sensation among the colonists--a sensation not the less deep and

active, because a sense of their own danger kept them from its open

expression. Had Albert pardoned Lachane, or let him off with some slight

punishment, it is not improbable that the matter would have ended there;

and the cruel proceedings against Guernache might have been forgiven if

not forgotten. But these were kept alive by those which followed against

their other favorite; and some of the boldest, feeling how desperate

their condition threatened to become, now ventured to expostulate with

their superior upon his wanton and unwise severities. But they were

confounded to find that they themselves incurred the danger of Lachane,

in the attempt to plead against it. It was one of the miserable

weaknesses in the character of Captain Albert, to suppose his authority

in danger whenever he was approached with the language of expostulation.

To question his justice seemed to him to defy his power--to entreat for

mercy, such a showing of hostility as to demand punishment also. He

resented, as an impertinence to himself, all such approaches; and his

answer to the prayers of his people was couched in the language of

contumely and threat. They retired from his presence accordingly, with

feelings of increased dislike and disgust, and with a discontent which

was the more dangerous as they succeeded most effectually in controlling

its exhibition.

But if such was the state of the relations between Albert and his

people, how much worse did they become, when, at the close of the first

eighth day after the banishment of Lachane, it was discovered that the

orders for providing him with the allowance of food had been suspended,

or countermanded. The captain was silent; and no one, unless at his

bidding, could venture to carry the poor exile his allotted pittance.

The eighth day passed. The men murmured among themselves, and their

murmurs soon encouraged the utterance of a bolder voice. Nicholas Barré,

a man of great firmness and intelligence, one of their number, at length

presented himself before the captain. He boldly reminded him of the

condition of Lachane, and urged him to hasten his supplies of food

before he perished. But the self-esteem and consequence of Albert, under

provocation, became a sort of madness. He answered the suggestion with

indignity and insult.

"Begone!" he exclaimed, "and trouble me no more with your complaints.

What is it to me if the scoundrel does perish? I mean that he shall

perish! He deserves his fate! I shall be glad when ye can tell me that

he no longer needs his allowance. Away! you deserve a like punishment.

Let me hear another word on this subject, and the offender shall share

his fate!"

The insulting answer was accompanied by all the tokens of brute anger

and severity. The most furious oaths sufficed equally to show his

insanity and earnestness. His, indeed, was now an insanity such as

seizes usually upon those whom God is preparing for destruction. Barré

deemed it only prudent to retire from the presence of a rage which it

was no longer politic to provoke; but, in his soul, the purpose was

already taking form and strength, which contemplated resistance to a

tyranny so wild and reckless. He was not alone in this purpose. The

sentiment of resistance and disaffection was growing all around him, and

it only needed one who should embody it for successful exercise. But,

for this, time was requisite. To decide for action, on the part of a

conspiracy, it is first required that what is the common sentiment shall

become the common necessity.

"Meanwhile," said Barré, "our poor comrade must not starve!"

This was said to certain of his associates when they met that night

in secret. When two or three get together to complain of a tyranny,

resistance is already begun. They echoed his sentiments, and

arrangements were at once made for transmitting provisions to the

exile. A canoe was procured for this purpose, and Barré, with one other

comrade, set forth secretly at midnight on their generous and perilous

mission.

The night was calm and beautiful--the sea, unruffled by a breeze, lay

smooth as a mirror between the lonely island and the main. Though

barren, and without shrub or tree, the island looked lovely also--a

very realm of faery, in the silver smiling of the moon. With active and

sinewy limbs, cheered by the sight, our adventurous comrades pulled

towards it, reaching it with little effort, the current favoring their

course. What, however, was their surprise and consternation, when, on

reaching the islet, there was no answer to their summons. Drawing their

boat upon the shore, they soon compassed the little empire with hasty

footsteps; but they found nothing of the exile. The islet lay bare and

bright in the unshadowed moonlight, so that, whether asleep or dead,

his prostrate form must still have been perceptible. What bewildering

imaginations seized upon the seekers? What had become of their comrade?

Had he been carried off by the savages, by a foreign vessel, or, in

his desperation, had he cast himself into the devouring sea? What more

probable? Yet, as there was no answer to their questioning, there was no

solution of their doubts. Hopeless of his fate, after a frequent and a

weary search, and dreading the worst, they re-entered their canoe, and

re-crossed the bay in safety--their hearts more than ever filled with

disgust and indignation at the cruelty and malice of their commander.

But their quest was not wholly hopeless. When they had reached the main,

and while approaching the garrison, they were greatly surprised by the

sudden appearance of a human form between the fortress and the river.

They remembered the poor Guernache, and, for a moment, a fearful

superstition fastened upon their hearts. At first, the fugitive seemed

to be approaching them; but, in an instant, wheeling about, as if in

panic, he darted into the woods, and sought concealment in the thicket.

This re-inspired them. They gave chase instantly. The efforts of the

pursued were feebly made, and they soon overtook him. To their great

relief and surprise, they found him to be the person they had been

seeking--the banished and half-starved Lachane!

His story was soon told. He was nearly perished of hunger. Beyond the

crude berries and bitter roots which he had gathered in the woods, he

had not eaten for three days. The food which had been furnished him from

the garrison had been partly carried from him by birds or beasts--he

knew not which--while he slept; and, in the failure of his promised

supplies, he had become desperate.

"For that matter," said the wretched exile, "I had become desperate

before. Food was not my only or my chief want. I wanted shade from the

desolating sun. I wanted rescue from the heavy hand of fire upon my

brain; and, by day, I could scarcely keep from quenching the furnace

that seemed boiling in my blood, by plunging deep down into the bowels

of the sea. By night, when the fiery feeling passed away, then I

yearned, above all, for the face and voice of man. It was this craving

which made me resolve to brave the death which threatened me which-ever

way I turned--that, if I perished, it should still be in the struggle

once more to behold the people of my love."

How closely did they press the poor fellow to their hearts!

"You should not have perished," said Nicholas Barré, boldly. "I, for

one, have become tired of this tyranny, under which we no longer breathe

in safety. I am resolved to bear it no longer than I can. There are

others who have resolved like me. But of this hereafter. Tell us,

Lachane, how you contrived to swim across this great stretch of sea?"

"By the mercy of God which made me desperate--which made the seas

calm--which gave me a favoring current, and which threw yon fragment

of a ship's spar within my reach. But I nearly sunk. Twice did I feel

the waters going over me; but I thought of France, and all, and the

strength came back to me. I can say no more. I am weak--very weak. Give

me to eat."

A flask of generous wine with which they had provided themselves,

cheered and inspirited the sufferer. They laid him down at the foot of a

broad palmetto, while one of them brought food from the canoe. Much it

rejoiced them to see him eat. Ere he had satisfied his hunger, Lachane

spoke again as follows:

"I rejoice to hear that you, and others, have resolved to submit no

longer to this tyranny. It was not the desire of food, or friendship,

only, that strengthened me to throw myself into the sea, in the

desperate desire to see the garrison once more. But while my head flamed

beneath the sun's downward blaze upon that waste of sand, while mine

eyes burned like living coals fresh from the furnace, and my blood

leaped and bounded like a mad thing about my temples and in all my

veins, I saw all the terrible sufferings of our poor Guernache anew. I

heard his voice--his bitter reproaches--and then the terrible scream of

the poor Indian woman when the heavy rods descended upon her shoulder.

Then I felt that I had not done what my soul commanded!--that I had

abandoned my innocent comrade like a lamb to the butcher. I swore to do

myself justice--to seek the garrison at Fort Charles, if, for no other

purpose, to have revenge upon Albert. I verily believe, _mes amis_, that

it was that oath that strengthened me in the sea--that lifted me when

the waves went over me, and my heart was sinking with my body. I thought

of the blows which might yet be struck for vengeance and freedom. I

thought of Guernache and his murderer,--and I rose,--I struck out. I had

no fear! I got a strength which I had not at the beginning; and I am

here; the merciful God be praised forever more--ready to strike a fair

blow at the tyrant, though I die the moment after!"

"That blow must now be struck very soon," said Nicholas Barré. "We are

no longer safe. Albert rules us just as it pleases him, by his mere

humor, and not according to the laws or usages of France. Every day

witnesses against him. Some new tyranny--some new cruelty--adds hourly

to our afflictions, and makes life, on such terms, endurable no longer.

We are not men if we submit to it."

"Hear me," said Lachane; "you have not laid the plan for his overthrow?"

"Not yet! But we are ready for it. All's ripe. The proper spirit is at

work."

"Let it work! All right; but look you, comrades, it is for this hand to

strike the blow. I demand the right, because Guernache was my closest

friend. I demand it in compensation for my own sufferings."

"It is yours, Lachane! You have the right!"

"Thanks, _mes amis_! And now for the plan. You have resolved on none

yourselves. Hearken to mine."

They lent willing ears, and Lachane continued. His counsel was that

Captain Albert should be advised of an unusual multitude of deer on

one of the "hunting islands" in the neighborhood. These islands are

remarkable--some of them--for the luxuriance and beauty of their

forests. Here, the deer were accustomed to assemble in great numbers,

particularly when pressed by clouds of Indian hunters along the main;

nor were they loth to visit them at other seasons, when the tides were

low and the seas smooth. Swimming across the dividing rivers, and arms

of the sea, at such periods, in little groups of five or ten, they found

here an almost certain refuge and favorite browsing patches. To one of

these islands, Barré, or some other less objectionable person, was to

beguile Captain Albert. His fondness for the chase was known, and was

gratified on all convenient occasions. He was to be advised of numerous

herds upon the island, which passed to it the night before. They had

been seen crossing in the moonlight from the main. Lachane, meanwhile,

possessing himself of the canoe which his friends had just employed,

armed with weapons which they were to provide, was to place himself in

a convenient shelter upon the island, and take such a position as would

enable him to seize upon the first safe opportunity for striking the

blow. Numerous details, not necessary for our purpose, but essential to

that of the conspirators, were suggested, discussed, and finally agreed

upon, or rejected. Lachane simply concluded with repeating his demand

for the privilege of the first blow--a claim farther insisted upon,

as, in the event of failure, he who had already incurred the doom

of outlawry, and had offended against hope, might thus save others

harmless, who occupied a position of greater security. We need not

follow the arrangement of the parties. Enough, that, when they were

discussed fully, the three separated--Barré and his companion to regain

the fort, and Lachane to embark in the canoe, ere day should dawn, for

the destined islet where he was equally to find security and vengeance.

Everything succeeded to the wishes of the conspirators. Albert, who

was passionately fond of the chase, was easily persuaded by the

representations of Barré and his comrades. The pinnace was fitted out

at an early hour, and, attended by the two conspirators, and some half

dozen other persons, the greater number of whom were supposed to be

as hostile to the tyrant as themselves, the Captain set forth, little

dreaming that he should be the hunted instead of the hunter. Pierre

Renaud, by whom he was also accompanied, was the only person of the

party upon whom he could rely. But neither his creature nor himself had

the slightest apprehension of the danger. The jealousies of the despot

seemed for the moment entirely at rest, and, as if in the exercise of a

pleasant novelty, Albert threw aside all the terrors of his authority.

He could jest when the fit was on him. He, too, had his moments of play;

a sort of feline faculty, in the exercise of which the cat and the tiger

seem positively amiable. His jests were echoed by his men, and their

laughter gratified him. But there was one exception to the general

mirth, which arrested his attention. Nicholas Barré alone preserved a

stern, unbroken composure, which the gay humor of his superior failed

entirely to overcome. Nothing so much vexes superiority as that it

should condescend in vain; and the silence and coldness of Barré, and

the utter insensibility with which he heard the good things of his

captain, and which occasioned the ready laughter of all the rest,

finally extorted a comment from Albert, which gave full utterance to

his spleen.

"By my life, Lieutenant Barré,"--such was the rank of this

conspirator--"but that I know thee better, I should hold thee to be one

of those unhappy wretches to whom all merriment is a hateful thing--to

whom a clever jest gives offence only, and whom a cheerful laugh sends

off sullenly to bed. Pray, if it be not too serious a humor, tell us the

cause of thy present dullness."

"Verily, Captain Albert," replied the person addressed, fixing his eyes

steadily upon him, and speaking in the most deliberate accents, "I was

thinking of the deer that we shall strike to-day. Doubtless, he is even

now making as merry as thyself among his comrades--little dreaming that

the hunter hath his thoughts already fixed upon the choice morsels of

his flanks, which, a few hours hence, shall be smoking above the fire.

Truly, are we but little wiser than the thoughtless deer. The merriest

of us may be struck as soon. The man hath as few securities from the

morrow as the beast that runs."

Captain Albert was not the most sagacious tyrant in the world, or the

moral reflections of our conspirator might have tended to his disquiet.

He saw no peculiar significance in the remark, though the matter of it

was all well remembered, when the subsequent events came to be known.

Little, indeed, did the victim then dream of the fate which lay in wait

for him. He laughed at the shallow reflection of Barré, which seemed so

equally mistimed and unmeaning, and his merriment increased with every

stroke of the oar which sent the pinnace towards the scene chosen for

the tragedy. All his severities were thrown aside; never had he shown

himself more gracious; and, though his good humor was rather the

condescension of one who is secure in his authority, and can resume

his functions at any moment, than the proof of any sympathy with his

comrades, yet he seemed willing for once that it should not lose any of

its pleasant quality by any frequent exhibition of his usual caprice.

But for an occasional sarcasm in which he sometimes indulged, and by

which he continued to keep alive the antipathies of the conspirators,

the gentler mood in which he now suffered them to behold him, might have

rendered them reluctant to prosecute their purpose. They might have

relented, even at the last moment, had they been prepared to believe

that his present good humor was the fruit of any sincere relentings

in him. But he did not succeed to this extent, and, with a single

significant look to his comrades, the stern Nicholas Barré showed to

them that he, at least, was firm in the secret purpose which they

had in view. His silence and gravity for a time served to amuse his

superior, who exercised his wit at the expense of the sullen soldier,

little dreaming, all the while, at what a price he should be required to

pay for his temporary indulgence. But as Barré continued in his mood,

the pride of the haughty superior was at length hurt; and, when they

reached the shore, the insolence of Albert had resumed much of its old

ascendancy.

Albert was the first to spring to land. He was impatient to begin the

chase, of which he was passionately fond. The sport, as conducted in

that day and region, was after a very simple fashion. It consisted

rather in a judicious distribution of the hunters, at various places of

watch, than in the possession of any particular skill of weapon or speed

of foot. The island was small--the woods not very dense or intricate,

and the only outlet of escape was across the little arm of the sea which

separated the island from the main. The hunters were required to watch

this passage, with a few other avenues from the forest. We need not

observe their order or arrangement. It will be enough to note that Barré

chose as the sentinel left in charge of the boat one of the firmest of

the conspirators. This was a person named Lamotte--a small but fiery

spirit--a man of equal passion and vindictiveness, who had suffered

frequent indignities from Albert, which his own inferior position as a

common soldier had compelled him to endure without complaint. But he was

not the less sensible of his hurts, because not suffered to complain

of them; and his hatred only assumed a more intense and unforgiving

character, because it seemed cut off from all the outlets to revenge.

The arrangements of the hunters all completed, they began to skirt

slowly the woody region by which the centre of the island was chiefly

occupied. Gradually separating as they advanced, they finally, one by

one, found their way into its recesses. A single dog which they carried

with them, was now unleashed, and his eager tongue very soon gave notice

to the hunters that their victim was afoot. As the bay of the hound

became more frequent, the blood of Albert became more and more excited,

and, pressing forward, in advance of all his companions, the sinuosities

of the route pursued soon scattered the whole party. But this he did

not heed. The one consciousness,--that which appealed to his love of

sport,--led to a forgetfulness of all others; and it was no disquiet to

our captain to find himself alone in forests where he had never trod

before, particularly when his eager eye caught a glimpse of a fine herd

of the sleek-skinned foresters, well-limbed, and nobly-headed, darting

suddenly from cover into the occasional openings before him. A good shot

was Captain Albert. He fired, and had the joy to see tumbled, headlong,

sprawling, in his tracks, one of the largest bucks of the herd. He

shouted his delight aloud;--shouted twice and clapped his hands!

His shouts were echoed, near at hand, by a voice at once strange and

familiar! His instinct divined a sudden danger in this strange echo.

He stopped short, even as he was about to bound forward to the spot

in which the deer had fallen. Another shout!--but this was to his

companions! He was now confounded at the new echo and the fearful vision

which this summons conjured up. At his side, and in his very ears,

rose another shout--a shriek rather--much louder than his own--a wild,

indescribable yell,--which sent a thrill of horror through his soul.

At the same instant, a gaunt, wild man--a half-naked, half-famished

form--darted from the thicket and stood directly before him in his path!

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" howled the stranger.

"Guernache!" was the single word, forced from the guilty soul of the

criminal!

"Guernache! Yes! Guernache, in his friend Lachane! Both are here! See

you not? Look! Ho! Captain Albert,--look and see, and make yourself

ready. Your time is short. You will hang and banish no longer!"

Wild with exulting fury was the face of the speaker--terrible the

language of his eyes--threatening the action of the uplifted arm. A keen

blade flashed in his grasp, and the discovery which Albert made, that,

in the wild man before him, he saw the person whom he had so wantonly

and cruelly decreed to perish, sufficed to make him nerveless. The

surprise deprived him of resource, while his guilty conscience enfeebled

his arm, and took all courage from his soul. His match-lock was already

discharged. The _couteau de chasse_ was at his side; but, before this

could be drawn, he must be hewn down by the already uplifted weapon of

his foe. Besides, even if drawn, what could he hope, by its employment,

against the superior muscle and vigor of Lachane? These thoughts passed

with a lightning-like rapidity through the brain of Albert. He felt that

he had met his fate! He shrunk back from its encounter, and sent up a

feeble but a painful cry for his creature,--"Pierre Renaud!"

"Ha! ha! you cry for him in vain!" was the mocking answer of Lachane.

"Renaud, that miserable villain--that wretch after thy own heart and

fashion--hath quite as much need of thee as thou of him! Ye will serve

each other never more to the prejudice of better men. Hark! hear you

not? Even now they are dealing with him!"

And, sure enough, even as he spoke, the screams of one in mortal terror,

interrupted by several heavy blows in quick succession, seemed to

confirm the truth of what Lachane had spoken. In that fearful moment

Albert remembered the words, now full of meaning, which Nicholas Barré

had spoken while they set forth. The hunter had indeed become the

hunted. Lachane gave him little time for meditation.

"They have done with him! Prepare! To your knees, Captain Albert! I give

you time to make your peace with God--such time as you gave my poor

Guernache! Prepare!"

But, though Albert had not courage for combat, he yet found strength

enough for flight. He was slight of form, small, and tolerably swift

of foot. Flinging his now useless firelock to the ground, he suddenly

darted off through the forests, with a degree of energy and spirit

which it tasked all the efforts of the less wieldy frame of Lachane to

approach. Life and death were on the event, and Albert succeeded in

gaining the beach where the boat had been left before he was overtaken.

But Lamotte, to whom the boat had been given in charge, pushed off, with

a mocking yell of laughter, at his approach! His cries for succor were

unheeded. Lamotte himself would have slain the fugitive but that he

knew Lachane had claimed for himself this privilege. His spear had

been uplifted as Albert drew nigh the water, but the shout of Lachane,

emerging from the woods, warned him to desist. He used the weapon to

push the pinnace into deep water, leaving Albert to his fate!

"Save me, Lamotte!" was the prayer, of the tyrant in his desperation,

urged with every promise that he fancied might prove potent with the

soldier. But few moments were allowed him for entreaty, and they were

unavailing. Lamotte contented himself with looking on the event, ready

to finish with his spear what Lachane might leave undone. Albert gazed

around him, and as Lachane came, with one shriek of terror, darted into

the sea. The avenger was close behind him. The water rose to the waist

and finally to the neck of the fugitive. He turned in supplication, only

to receive the stroke. The steel entered his shoulder, just below the

neck. He staggered and fell forwards upon the slayer. The blade snapped

in the fall, and the wounded man sunk down irretrievably beneath the

waters. Lachane raised the fragment of his sword to Heaven, while, with

something of a Roman fervor, he ejaculated--

"Guernache! dear friend, behold! the hand of Lachane hath avenged thee

upon thy murderer!"

VIII.

FLIGHT, FAMINE, AND THE BLOODY FEAST OF THE FUGITIVES.

The assassination of Captain Albert restored peace, at least, to the

little colony of Fort Charles. He had been the chief danger to the

garrison, by reason of his vexatious tyranny, fomented ever by the

miserable malice and espionage of Pierre Renaud. Both of these had

perished, and a sense of new security filled the hearts of the

survivors. They had also gratified all revenges. The sequel of the

narrative may be told, almost in the very words of the simple chronicle

from which our facts are mostly drawn.

"When they (the conspirators) were come home againe, they assembled

themselves together to choose one to be Governor over them." In this

selection there was no difficulty. Jealousies and dissensions had ceased

to exist, and the choice naturally fell upon Nicholas Barré,[15] whose

former position, as Lieutenant under Albert, and whose recent connection

with the party by which he was slain, had naturally given him a large

influence among the colonists. He was equal to his new duties. He "knewe

so well to quite himself of this charge that all rancour and dissention

ceased among them, and they lived peaceably one with another." But,

though harmony was restored among them, it was a harmony without hope.

They had been abandoned by their countrymen. The supplies which Ribault

had promised them had utterly failed. They had never, indeed, been

levied. Ribault returned to France only to find it convulsed with a

renewal of the civil war, under the auspices of that incarnate mischief,

Catherine de Medicis, and her fatherless and cruel son, in whose name

she swayed the country to its ruin. Coligny, the father of the colony,

had enough to do in fighting the battles of the Huguenots at home.

He could do nothing for those whom he had sent abroad. The peace of

Longjumean had been of short duration, and there had been really no

remission of hostilities on the part of the Catholics. In the space of

three months more than two thousand of the former fell victims to the

rage of the populace; and, though reluctantly, the Prince of Condé and

Coligny were forced into a resumption of arms for the safety of their

own persons. The immediate necessities of their situation were such

as to defeat their efforts in behalf of the remote settlement at Fort

Charles. They needed all their soldiers and Huguenots in France. Feeling

themselves abandoned--they knew not why--the colonists in Florida ceased

to behold a charm or solace in their solitary realm of refuge. Its

securities were no longer sufficient to compensate for its loneliness.

Better the strife, perhaps, than this unmeaning and unbroken silence.

They were too few for adventure, and the discouragements resulting from

their domestic grievances were enough to paralyze any such spirit. But

for this there had been no lack of the necessary inducements. In their

second voyage to King Ouade, seeking "mil and beans," they had learned

some of the secrets of the country which made their eyes brighten. They

had discovered that there was gold in the land, and that the gold of the

land was good. This prince had freely given them of his treasure. He had

bestowed on them pearls of the native waters, stones of finest chrystal,

and certain specimens of silver ore, which he described, in reply to

their eager inquiries, as having been gathered at the foot of certain

high mountains, the bowels of which contained it in greatest quantity.

These were the mountains of Apalachia, and the truth of Ouade's

revelations have been confirmed by subsequent discovery. The

intelligence had greatly gladdened the hearts of our Frenchmen, and

nothing but the feebleness of the garrison prevented Albert from

prosecuting a search which promised so largely to gratify the lusts of

avarice. His subsequent errors and fate put an end to the desire among

his followers. They longed for nothing now so much as home. They had

been temporarily abandoned by the Indians whose granaries they had

emptied, and who had been compelled to wander off to remote forests

in search of their own supplies. The gloom of the Frenchmen naturally

increased in the absence of their allies, who had furnished them equally

with food and recreation. Their provisions again began to fail them.

Their resources in corn and peas were quite exhausted; and no more

could be procured from the red-men, who had preserved a supply barely

sufficient for the planting of their little fields. In this condition of

want, with this feeling of destitution and abandonment, it was resolved

among the Huguenots, to depart the colony. With a fond hope once more of

recovering the shores of that country, still most beloved, which had

so unkindly cast them forth, they began to build themselves a vessel

sufficiently large to bear their little company. "And though there

were no men among them," says the chronicle, "that had any skill,

notwithstanding, necessitye, which is the maistresse of all sciences,

taught them the way to build it." But how were they to provide the

sails, the tackle and the cordage? "Having no meanes to recover these

things they were in worse case than at the first, and almost ready to

fall into despayre." They were succored, when most desponding, by the

help of Providence. "That good God, which never forsaketh the afflicted,

did favor them in their necessitie." The Indians, who had been for

some time absent, seeking, by the chase, in distant forests, to supply

themselves with provisions in place of those which they had yielded

to the white men, now began to reappear; and, in the midst of their

perplexities, they were visited by the Caciques, Audusta and Maccou,

with more than two hundred of their followers. These, our Frenchmen

went forth to meet, with great show of satisfaction; and had they been

sufficiently re-assured by the return of their red friends--had they not

been too much the victims of _nostalgia_, or homesickness, the cloud

might have passed from their fortunes, and the little colony might have

been re-established under favoring auspices. But their only thought

was of their native land. They declared their wishes to the Indian

chieftains, and, showing in what need of cordage they stood, they

were told that this would be provided in the space of a few days. The

Caciques kept their word, and, in little time, brought an abundance of

cordage. But other things were wanted, and "our men sought all meanes

to recover rosen in the woodes, wherein they cut the pine trees round

about, out of which they drew sufficient reasonable quantitie to bray

the vessel. Also they gathered a kind of mosse, which groweth on the

trees of this countrie, to serve to caulke the same withall. There now

wanted nothing but sayles, which they made of their own shirtes and of

their sheetes." Thus provided with the things requisite, our Frenchmen

hastened to finish their brigantine, and "used so speedie diligence,"

that they were soon ready to launch forth upon the great deep. They gave

to their Indian friends all their surplus goods and chattels, leaving to

them all the merchandise of the fort which they could not take away;--a

liberality which gave the red-men the "greatest contentation in the

worlde." But they re-embarked their forge, their artillery and other

munitions of war. Unhappily, they were too impatient to begin their

journey. In the too sanguine hope of reaching France, with a speed

proportioned to their eager desires, they laid in no adequate provision

for a long voyage. "In the meane season the wind came so fit for their

purpose, that it seemed to invite them to put to sea. Being drunken with

the too excessive joy which they had conceived for their returning into

France, or rather deprived of all foresight and consideration:--without

regarding the inconsistencie of the winds which change in a moment, they

put themselves to sea, and, with so slender victuals, that the end of

their enterprise became unlucky and unfortunate."

[15] "Il fallut songer ensuite à lui donner un successeur, et le choix

que l'on fit, fut plus sage, qu'on ne devoit l'attendre de gens, dont

les mains fumoient encore du sang de leur Chef. Ils mirent à leur tête

un fort honnête homme, nommé Nicholas Barré, lequel par son adresse et

sa prudence rétablit en peu de tems la paix et le bon ordre dans la

colonie."--_Charlevoix_, _N. Fran._, Liv. 1.

They had not sailed a third part of the distance, when they were

surprised with calms, which so much hindered their progress that, during

the space of three weeks, they had not advanced twenty-five leagues. In

this period their provisions underwent daily diminution. In a short time

their stock had sunk so low that it was necessary to limit the allowance

to each man. We may conceive their destitution from this allowance.

"Twelve grains of mill by the day, which may be in value as much as

twelve peason!" But even this poor quantity was not long continued. It

was "a felicity," in the language of the chronicle, which was of brief

duration. Soon the "mill" failed them entirely--all at once--and they

"had nothing for their more assured refuge, but their shoes and leather

jerkins, which they did eate." But their misfortune was not confined to

their food. Their supplies of fresh water failed them also. Never had

adventurers set forth upon the seas with such wretched provision. Their

beverage finally became the water of the ocean--the thirst-provoking

brine. Such beverage as this increased their miseries--atrophy and

madness followed--and death stretched himself out among them on every

side. Nor were they suffered to escape from the most painful toils while

thus contending against thirst and famine. Their wretched vessel sprang

a-leak. The water grew upon them. Day and night were they kept busy in

casting it forth, without cessation or repose. Each day added to their

griefs and dangers. Their shoes and jerkins they had already devoured

in their desperation, and where to look for other material to supply the

materiel of distension, puzzled their thoughts. While thus distressed

by their anxieties, with their comrades dying about them, a new danger

assailed them, as if fortune was resolved to crush them at a blow, and

thus conclude their miseries. The winds rose, the seas were lashed into

fury by the storm. Their vessel, no longer buoyant, "in the turning of a

hand" shipped a fearful sea, and was nearly swamped--"filled halfe full

of water, and bruised in upon the one side." This was the last drop in

the cup of misfortune which finally makes it overflow. Then it was that

the hearts of our Frenchmen sunk utterly within them. They no longer

cared to contend for life. They gave themselves up to despair. "Being

now more out of hope than ever to escape out of this extreme peril, they

cared not for casting out of the water which now was almost ready to

drown them; and as men resolved to die, everie one fell downe backwarde,

and gave themselves over, altogether unto the will of the waves."

It was at this moment of extreme despondency, that Lachane tried to

cheer them with new hope, and to new exertions. He encouraged them by

various assurance, to hold out against fate, and struggle manfully to

the last. He told them "how little way they had to sayle, assuring them

that if the winde helde, they should see land within three dayes." "At

worst," he added, "we can die when we can do no better. It will be

always time enough for that. But this necessity is not now. We can

surely put it off for some time longer. At present, let us live!"

Speaking thus, in the most cheerful manner, the brave fellow set them a

proper example by which to dissipate their fears and to provide against

them. He began to bail and cast out the water in which, in their extreme

indifference to their fate, they either sat or lay. They took heart

as they beheld him, and joined in the labor with new vigor, and that

elastic spirit which is so characteristic of Frenchmen. But, when the

three days had gone by, and still their eyes were unblessed with the

sight of the promised land--when they had consumed every remnant of shoe

and jerkin, and nothing more was left them to consume, they turned their

eyes in bitter reproach upon the man who had persuaded them to live.

He met their reproachful glances with a smile, and instantly devised a

remedy for their fears and weaknesses, through one of those terrible

thoughts which, at any other period, would revolt, with extremest

loathing, the humanity of the man, however little human.

"My comrades!" said the noble fellow, "you hunger--you starve! You will

perish unless you can get some food. I see it in your eyes. They have

no lustre, and the courage seems to have gone out entirely from your

hearts. You must not die! You must not lose your courage. You _shall_

not. You shall drink life and courage out of my breast. I have enough

there for all who thirst and faint. You shall feed upon my heart--you

shall drink the blood of a brave man, and live for your friends and

country. I have few friends, and my country can spare me. Better that

one of us should die than that all should perish. I am ready to die for

you! What! You shake your heads--you would not have it so--but it shall

be so! You have loved me--you have suffered for me. Well, Lachane loves

you in return--he will die for you. You shall remember him hereafter,

when our own dear France receives you again in safety. You will bless

his memory!"

A groan was the only reply of those around him. Lachane threw open his

breast.

"There!" he cried; "Look! I am ready! I fear not death. Strike! See you

not, my bosom is open to the knife. My hand is down--there!"--grasping

the seat upon which he sate,--"There! it shall not be lifted to arrest

the blow!"

The famished wretches looked with wolfish yearnings upon the white

breast of the offered sacrifice; but there was still a human revolting

in their hearts that kept them moveless and silent. They longed for

the horrible banquet, but still turned from it with a lingering human

loathing. But Lachane was resolute.

"Ah!" said he, reproachfully; "you fear--you would not that I should die

in this manner; but, _mes amis_, you know me not. You know not how it

will glad my heart to know that its dying pulse shall add new life to

yours. Here, Lafourche, Genet--you are both beside me. You are the

feeblest. You are dying fast. You thirst; another day and you perish!

You have a mother, Genet--a dear sister, Lafourche--why will you not

live for them? Lo! you, now,--when I strike the blow,--do you both clap

your mouths upon the wound. Drink freely--drink deep--that you may have

strength--and let the rest drink after you. There!--my braves!--there."

With each of these last words, the brave fellow--thence called "Lachane,

the Deliverer"--struck two fatal blows, one upon his heart, and one upon

his throat. He leaned back between the two famished persons whom he had

especially addressed, and, while the consciousness was yet in the eyes

of the dying man, they sprang like thirsting tigers, and fastened their

mouths upon each streaming orifice. The victim, smarting and conscious

to the last, sunk in a few seconds, into the sacred slumber of death.

This heroism saved the rest. He had struck with a firm hand and a

resolute spirit. In his death they lived. Slow to accept his proffered

sacrifice, he was scarcely cold, ere the survivors fastened upon his

body; and, ere the last morsel of the victim was consumed, they had

assurances of safety.[16]

[16] Lest we should be suspected of exaggeration we quote a single

sentence from the condensed account in Charlevoix:--"Lachau, celui là

même, que la Capitaine Albert avoit exilé, après l'avoir dégradé des

armes, déclara qu'il vouloit bien avancer sa mort, qu'il croyoit

inévitable, pour reculer de quelques jours celle de ses compagnons.

Il fut pris au mot, et on l'égorgea sur le champ, sans qu'il fît la

moindre résistance. _Il ne fut pas perdu une goute de son sang, tous

en bûrent avec avidité, le corps fut mis en piéces, et chacun en eut

sa part._"

It seemed as if expiation had been done; as if the sacrifice had purged

their offences and made them acceptable to heaven. The land rose upon

their vision,--a glimpse like that of salvation to the doomed one,--a

sight "whereof they were so exceeding glad, that the pleasure caused

them to remain a long time as men without sense; whereby they let the

pinnesse floate this and that way without holding any right way or

course." While thus wandering, in sight of France, but still at the

mercy of the winds and waves, they were boarded by an English vessel.

Here they were recognized by a Frenchman who happened to be one of the

crew that had accompanied Ribault in his voyage. The most feeble were

put upon the coast of France; the rest were taken to England, with the

design that Queen Elizabeth, who meditated sending an expedition to

Florida, might have the benefit of their report.

IX.

THE SECOND EXPEDITION OF THE HUGUENOTS TO FLORIDA.

The Fortress of La Caroline and the Colony of Laudonniere.

Thus, unhappily, as we have seen, ended the first experiment of Coligny

for the establishment of a Huguenot colony in the territory of the

Floridian. The disasters which had attended the fortunes of the garrison

at Fort Charles, were due, in some degree, to its seeming abandonment

by their founder. But Coligny was blameless in this abandonment. When

Ribault returned to France, from his first voyage, the civil wars had

again begun, depriving the admiral of the means for succoring the

colony, as had been promised. Nearly two years had now elapsed from that

period, before he could recover the power which would enable him to send

supplies or recruits for its maintenance. In all this time, with the

exception of the small domain occupied by Fort Charles, the country lay

wholly derelict, and in the keeping of the savages. But Coligny was now

in a condition to resume his endeavors in behalf of his colony. He was

again in possession of authority. The assassination of the Duke of Guise

had restored to France the blessings of peace; and Coligny seized upon

this interval of repose, to inquire after the settlement which had been

made by Ribault. Three ships, and a considerable amount of money, were

accorded to his application; and the new armament was assigned to the

command of René Laudonniere--a man of intelligence, a good seaman

rather than a soldier, and one who had accompanied Ribault on his first

expedition, though he had not remained with the colony.[17] Laudonniere

found it easy enough to procure his men, not only for the voyage but

the colony. The civil wars had produced vast numbers of restless and

destitute spirits, who longed for nothing so much as employment and

excitement. Besides, there was a vague attraction for the imagination,

in the tales which had reached the European world, of the wondrous

sweetness and beauty of the region to which they were invited. Florida

still continued, even at this period, to be the country beyond all

others in the new world, which appealed to the fancies and the appetites

of the romantic, the selfish, and the merely adventurous. Ribault's own

account of it had described the wondrous sweetness of its climate, and

the exquisite richness and variety of its fruits and flowers. Then,

there were the old dreams which had beguiled the Spanish cavalier,

Hernando de Soto, and had filled with the desires and the hopes of

youth, the aged heart of Juan Ponce de Leon. It did not matter if death

did keep the portals of the country. This guardianship only seemed the

more certainly to denote the precious treasures which were concealed

within. In the absence of any certain knowledge, men dreamed of spoils

within its bowels, such as had been yielded to Cortes and Pizarro, by

the great cities and teeming mountains of Tenochtitlan and Peru. They

had heard true stories of its fruits and flowers; of its bland airs, so

friendly to the invalid; of its delicious fountains, in which healing

and joy lay together in sweet communion. It was the region in which,

according to tradition, life enjoyed not only an exquisite, but an

extended tenure, almost equalling that of the antediluvian ages. Its

genial atmosphere was supposed to possess properties particularly

favorable to the prolongation of human life. Laudonniere himself tells

us of natives whom he had seen who were certainly more than two hundred

and fifty years old, and yet, who entertained a reasonable hope

of living fifty or a hundred years longer. These may have been

exaggerations, but they are such as the human imagination loves to

indulge in. But there was comparative truth in the assertion. Portions

of the Floridian territory are, to this day, known to be favorable to

health and longevity in a far greater degree than regions in other

respects more favored; and, in the temperate habits, the hardy

exercises, the simple lives of the red-men, unvexed by cares and

anxieties, and unsubdued by toils, they probably realized many of the

alleged blessings of a golden age. But the attractions of this region

were not estimated only with respect to attractions such as these.

The fountains of the marvellous which had been opened by the great

discoverers, Columbus and Cortes, Balboa and Pizarro, were not to be

quickly closed. The passion for adventure, in the exploration of new

countries, made men easy of belief; and any number of emigrants were

prepared to accompany our second Huguenot expedition. The armament of

Laudonniere was ready for sea, and sailed from France on the 22d April,

1564.[18] A voyage of two months brought the voyagers to the shores of

New France, which they reached the 25th of June, 1564. The land made was

very nearly in the same latitude as in the former expedition. It was a

favorable period for seeing the country in all its natural loveliness;

and the delight of the voyagers may be imagined, when, at May River,

they found themselves welcomed by the Indians, such of the whites

particularly as were recognized to have been of the squadron of Ribault.

The savages hailed them as personal friends and old acquaintances. When

they landed, they were eagerly surrounded by the simple and delighted

natives, men and women, and conducted, with great ceremonials, to the

spot where Ribault had set up a stone column, with the arms of France,

"upon a little sandie knappe, not far from the mouth of the said river."

It was with a pleased surprise that Laudonniere found the pillar

encircled and crowned with wreaths of bay and laurel, with which the

affectionate red-men had dressed the stone, in proof of the interest

which they had taken in this imposing memorial of their intercourse

with the white strangers. The foot of the pillar was surrounded by

little baskets of maize and beans; and these were brought in abundance,

in token of their welcome, and yielded by these generous sons of the

forest to their new visitors, at the foot of the pillar which they had

thus consecrated to their former friendship. They kissed the column,

and made the French do likewise. Their _Paracoussy_, or king, was named

Satouriova, the oldest of whose sons, named Athore, is described by

Laudonniere as "perfect in beautie." Satouriova presented Laudonniere

with a "wedge of silver"--one of those gifts which by no means lessened

the importance of the giver, or of his country, in the eyes of our

voyager. His natural inquiry was whence the silver came.

[17] Charlevoix describes Laudonniere as "un gentilhomme de

mérite--bon officier de marine, et qui avoit même servi sur terre

avec distinction."

[18] It was much superior to that originally sent out with Ribault.

"On lui donna des ouvriers habiles dans tous les arts, &c. que utilité

dans une colonie naissante. Quantité de jeune gens de famille, et

plusiers gentilshommes voulurent faire ce voyage _à leurs dépens_, et

on y joinit des détachemens de soldats choisis dans de vieux corps.

_L'Admiral eut soin surtout qu'il n'y eût aucun catholique dans cet

armement._"

"Then he showed me by evident signes that all of it came from a place

more within the river, by certain days journeyes from this place, and

declared unto us that all that which they had thereof, they gat it

by force of armes of the inhabitants of this place, named by them

_Thimogoa_, their most ancient and natural enemies, as hee largely

declared. Whereupon, when I saw with what affection and passion hee

spake when hee pronounced _Thimogoa_, I understood what he would say;

and to bring myself more into his favour, I promised him to accompany

him with all my force, if hee would fight against them: which thing

pleased him in such sorte, that, from thenceforth, hee promised himselfe

the victorie of them, and assured mee that hee would make a voyage

thither within a short space, and would commaund his men to make ready

their bowes and furnish themselves with such store of arrows, that

nothing should bee wanting to give battaile to Thimogoa. In fine, he

prayed me very earnestly not to faile of my promise, and, in so doing,

he hoped to procure me golde and silver, in such good quantitie, that

mine affaires should take effect according to mine owne and his desire."

Here then we see cupidity beginning to plant in place of religion. Our

Huguenot tells us of no prayers which he made, of no religious services

which he ordered, in presence of the savages, for their benefit and his

own. But his sole curiosity is to know where the gold grows, and to

prompt the evil passions of the red-men to violence and strife with one

another, in order that he may procure the object of his avarice.

With night, the parties separated, the French retiring to their ships

and the Indians to the cover of their forests. But Laudonniere had

something more to learn. The next day, "being allured with this good

entertainment," the visit was renewed. "We found him, (the Paracoussy)

under shadow of an arbor, accompanied with four-score Indians at the

least, and apparelled, at that time, after the Indian fashion; to wit,

with a great hart's skin dressed like chamois, and painted with divers

colours, but of so lively a portraiture, and representing antiquity,

with rules so justly compassed, that there is no painter so exquisite

that coulde finde fault therewith. The natural disposition of this

strange people is so perfect and well guided, that, without any ayd and

favour of artes, they are able, by the help of nature onely, to content

the eye of artizans; yea, even of those which, by their industry, are

able to aspire unto things most absolute."

What Laudonniere means by the paintings of the Indians, "representing

antiquity," is not so clear. But it may be well, in this place, to

mention that we do not rely here on the opinions of a mere sailor

or soldier. In this expedition, Coligny had sent out a painter of

considerable merit, named James Le Moyne, otherwise _de Morgues_, who

was commissioned to execute colored drawings of all the objects which

might be supposed likely to interest the European eye. To this painter

are we indebted for numerous pictures of the people and the region,

their modes of life, costume and exercises, which are now invaluable.

The Huguenots left their Indian friends with reluctance. As the ships

coasted along the shores, pursuing their way up the river, the word

"_ami_," one of the few French words which the simple red-men had

retained, resounded, in varied accents, from men and women, who followed

the progress of the strangers, running along the margin of the river, as

long as the ships continued in sight. The French have not often abused

the hospitality of the aborigines. In this respect, they rank much more

humanly and honorably than either the English or the Spanish people.

With a greater moral flexibility, which yields something to acquire

more, they accommodated themselves to the race which they discovered,

and, readily conforming to some of the habits of the red-men, acquired

an influence over them which the people of no other nation have ever

been able to obtain. It was with tears that the simple hunters along May

River beheld the vessels of the Frenchmen gradually sinking from their

eyes.

The vessels of Laudonniere passed up the river, himself and parties

of his people landing occasionally, to examine particular spots of

country. They are everywhere received with kindness. Two of the Indian

words--"Antipola Bonassou,"--meaning "Friend and Brother,"--the French

made use of to secure a favorable welcome everywhere.

Monsieur de Ottigny, a lieutenant of Laudonniere, with a small party,

is conducted into the presence of a Cassique, whose great apparent age

prompts him to inquire concerning it. "Whereunto he made answer, shewing

that he was the first living originall from whence five generations were

descended, as he shewed unto them by another olde man that sate directly

over against him, which farre exceeded him in age. And this man was his

father, which seemed to be rather a dead carkiss than a living body;

for his sinewes, his veines, his arteries, his bones and other partes

appeared so cleerely thorow his skinne, that a man might easily tell

them and discerne them one from one another. Also his age was so great

that the goode man had lost his sight, and could not speake one onely

word but with exceeding great paine. Monsieur de Ottigni, having seene

so strange a thing, turned to the younger of these two olde men, praying

him to vouchsafe to answer to him that which he demanded touching his

age. Then the olde man called a company of Indians, and striking twise

upon his thigh, and laying his hand upon two of them, he shewed him by

synes that these two were his sonnes; again smiting upon their thighes,

he shewed him others not so olde which were the children of the two

first, which he continued in the same manner until the fifth generation.

But, though this olde man had his father alive, more olde than himselfe,

and that bothe of them did weare their haire very long and as white as

was possible, yet it was tolde them that they might yet live thirtie or

fortie yeeres more by the course of nature: although the younger of them

both was not lesse than two hundred and fiftie yeeres olde. After he had

ended his communication he commanded two young eagles to be given to

our men, which hee had bred up for his pleasure in his house."

A fitting gift at the close of such a narrative! Certainly, a

patriarchal family; and, though we may doubt the correctness of this

primitive mode of computing the progress of the sun, there can be no

question that the Floridians were distinguished by a longevity wholly

unparalleled in modern experience. It is claimed that the anglo-American

races who have since occupied the same region, have shared, in some

degree, in this prolonged duration of human life.

While the lieutenant of Laudonniere was thus held in discourse by the

aged Indians, his commander was enjoying himself in more luxurious

fashion. A particular eminence in the neighborhood of the river had

fixed his eye, which he explored. Here he reposed himself for several

hours. It is pleasant to hear our Frenchman's discourse of the beauty

of the spot where his siesta was enjoyed.

"Upon the top thereof, we found nothing else but cedars, palms, and bay

trees, of so sovereign odor, that balm smelleth nothing in comparison.

The trees were environed round with vines, bearing grapes in such

quantity that the number would suffice to make the place habitable.

Touching the pleasure of the place, the sea may be seen plain and open

from it; and more than five leagues off, near the river Belle, a man may

behold the meadowes, divided asunder into isles and islets, interlacing

one another. Briefly, the place is so pleasant, that those who are

melancholie would be forced to change their humour."

There is no exaggeration in this. Such is the odor of the shrubs--such

is the picturesqueness of the prospect.

Laudonniere departed with great reluctance from a region so favorable

to health, so beautiful to the eye, and which promised so abundantly of

fruits and mineral treasures. His course lay northwardly, in search of

the colony of Captain Albert. He passes the river of Seine, four leagues

distant from the May, and continues to the mouth of the Somme, some

six leagues further. Here he casts anchor, lands, and is received with

friendly welcome by the Paracoussy, or king of the place, whom he

describes as "one of the tallest and best-proportioned men that may

be found. His wife sate by him, which, besides her Indian beautie,

wherewith she was greatly endued, had so virtuous a countenance and

modest gravitie, that there was not one amongst us but did greatly

commend her. She had in her traine five of her daughters, of so good

grace and so well brought up, that I easily persuaded myself that their

mother was their mistresse."

Here Laudonniere is again presented with specimens of the precious

metals, and here we find him already in consultation with his men,

touching the propriety of abandoning the settlement of Fort Charles, the

fate of which he has heard in his progress from the Indians, for the

more attractive regions of the river May. His arguments for this

preference, may be given in his own language.

"If we passed farther to the north to seeke out Port Royall, it would be

neither very profitable nor convenient,.... although the haven were one

of the fairest of the West Indies: but that, in this case, the question

was not so much of the beautie of the place as of things necessary to

sustaine life. And that for our inhabiting, it was much more needful

for us to plant in places plentiful of victuall, than in goodly havens,

faire, deepe and pleasante to the view. In consideration whereof, I was

of opinion, if it seemed goode unto them, to seate ourselves about the

river of May: seeing also, that, in our first voyage, wee found the same

onely, among all the rest, to abounde in maize and corn; _besides the

golde and silver that was found there; a thing that put me in hope of

some happie discoverie in time to come_."

Doubtless the last was the conclusive suggestion. The views of

Laudonniere were promptly agreed to by his followers; and, sailing back

to the river of May, they reached it at daybreak on the 29th June.

"Having cast anchor, I embarked all my stuffe and the souldiers of my

company, (in the pinnace we may suppose,) to sayle right towards the

opening of the river: wherein we entered a good way up, and found a

creeke of a reasonable bignisse which invited us to refresh ourselves a

little, while wee reposed ourselves there. Afterward, wee went on shore

to seeke out a place, plaine, without trees, which wee perceived from

the creeke."

But this spot, upon examination, does not prove commodious, and it was

determined to return to a point they had before discovered when sailing

up the river. "This place is joyning to a mountaine (hill), and it

seemed unto us more fit and commodious to build a fortresse;.....

therefore we took our way towards the forests..... Afterwards, we found

a large plaine, covered with high pine trees, distant a little from the

other; under which we perceived an infinite number of stagges, which

brayed amidst the plaine, athwart the which we passed: then we

discovered a little hill adjoyning unto a great vale, very greene and in

forme flat: wherein were the fairest meadows of the worlde, and grasse

to feede cattel. Moreover, it is environed with a great number of

brookes of fresh water, and high woodes which make the vale most

delectable to the eye."

Laudonniere names this pleasant region after himself, the "_vale of

Laudonniere_." They pass through it, and, at length, after temporary

exhaustion from fatigue and heat, they recover their spirits, and,

penetrating a high wood, reach the brink of the river, and the spot

which they have chosen for the settlement.

We have preferred, at the risk of being tedious, to quote these details,

in order that the modern antiquarian may, if he pleases, seek for the

traces of this ancient settlement. The foundation was not laid without

due solemnity. Laudonniere remembers that his people are Christians;

and, at the break of day, on the 30th June, 1564, the trumpets were

sounded, and our Huguenots were called to prayer. The banks of the May,

otherwise the St. Johns,[19] then echoed, for the first time, with a

hymn of lofty cheer from European voices.

[19] "The evidence," says Johnson, however, in an appendix to his life

of Greene, "is in favor of the St. Mary's, and would point to the

first bluff on the south side of that river." But this is certainly a

mistake. The general conviction now is, that our St. John's was the

May River of the French.

"There we sang a psalme of thanksgiving unto God." Prayer was made, and,

gathering courage from the exercise of their devotions, our Huguenots

applied themselves to the duty of building themselves a fortress. In

this work they were assisted by the Indians.[20] A few days sufficed,

with this help, to give their fabric form. It was built in the shape of

a triangle. "The side towarde the west, which was towarde the lande, was

enclosed with a little trench and raised with towers made in forme of

a battlement of nine foote high: the other side, which was towarde the

river, was inclosed with a palisado of plankes of timber, after the

manner that gabions are made. On the south side, there was a kinde of

bastion, within which I caused an house for the munition to be built. It

was all builded of fagots and sand, saving about two or three foote high

with turfes, whereof the battlements were made. In the middest I caused

a great court to be made of eighteen paces long and broad; in the

middest whereof, on the one side, drawing toward the south, I builded a

_corps de garde_, and an house, on the other side, towarde the north."

* * * "One of the sides that enclosed my court, which I made very faire

and large, reached unto the grange of my munitions: and, on the other

side, towarde the river, was mine owne lodgings, round which were

galleries all covered. The principal doore of my lodging was in the

middest of the great place, and the other was towarde the river. A good

distance from the fort, I built an oven."

[20] Jacques de Moyne de Morgues represents the Indian Chief or

Paracoussi of the neighborhood, Satouriova by name, as taking great

umbrage at the erection of the fortress La Caroline within his

dominions; thus differing from Laudonniere, who describes him and

his subjects as cheerfully assisting in its erection. Charlevoix

undertakes to reconcile the difference between them; but in a manner

which would soon leave the chronicle and the historian at the mercy of

the merest conjecture. The matter is scarcely of importance.

It will be an employment of curious interest, whenever the people of

Florida shall happen upon the true site of the settlement and structure

of Laudonniere, to trace out, in detail, these several localities, and

fix them for the benefit of posterity. The work is scarcely beyond the

hammer and chisel of some Old Mortality, who has learned to place his

affections, and fix his sympathies, upon the achievements of the Past.

X.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

Thus, then, was founded the second European settlement on the Continent

of America. The fortress was named LA CAROLINE, in honor of the French

monarch, whom it was still the policy of the Huguenots to conciliate.

The houses were of frail structure, and thatched with leaves of the

palmetto. The domain was a narrow one, but it was probably sufficiently

wide for the genius of Laudonniere. He soon shows himself sensible of

all his dignities as the sole representative of his master in the New

World. From his own account, he does not appear to have been the proper

person for the conduct of so difficult, if not so great, an enterprise.

There is no doubt that he was sufficiently brave; but bravery,

unsustained by judgment, is at best a doubtful virtue, and, in a

situation of great responsibility, is apt to show itself at the expense

of all discretion. The object of the colony of La Caroline was a

permanent establishment--a place of refuge from persecution--where the

seeds of a new empire might be planted on a basis which should ensure

civil liberty to the citizen. The proper aim of such a settlement should

have been security, self-maintenance, and peace with all men. These

could only have been found in the economizing of their resources, in the

application of all their skill and industry to the cultivation of the

soil, and in the preservation of the most friendly relations among the

Indians. These, unhappily, were not objects sufficiently appreciated

by Laudonniere. His first error was that which arose from the

universal passion of his time. He had seen the precious metals of

the country--wedges of silver and scraps of gold--which declared the

abundance of its treasures, and aroused all his passions for its

acquisition. His whole energies were accordingly directed to the most

delusive researches. He had scarcely built his fortress before he sent

off his exploring expeditions. "I would not lose a minute of an hour,"

is his language, "without imploying the same in some _vertuous_

exercise," and therefore he despatches his Lieutenant, Ottigny, in

seeking for Thimogoa; that king, hostile to the Paracoussi Satouriova,

whom he has pledged himself to the latter to make war upon. Satouriova

gives the lieutenant a couple of warriors as guides, who were delighted

at the mission,--"seeming to goe as unto a wedding, so desirous they

were to fight with their enemies."

But Ottigny, whose real purpose is to obtain the gold of the people of

Thimogoa, does not indulge his warlike guides in their desires. They

encounter some of the people whom they seek, and make inquiries after

the treasure. This is promised them hereafter. With the report of a king

named Mayrra, who lives farther up the river, and abounds in gold and

silver, Ottigny returns to La Caroline. Other adventurers follow, other

kings and chiefs are brought to the knowledge of our Frenchmen. Plates

of gold and silver are procured; large bars of the latter metal; and the

lures are quite sufficient to keep the colonists employed in the one

pursuit to the complete neglect of every other. Instead of planting,

they rely for their provisions wholly upon the Indians; and, for

eighteen months, the lieutenants of Laudonniere penetrated the forests

in every possible direction. They appear not only to have explored the

interior of Florida, Georgia and South Carolina, but to have prosecuted

their insane search even to the Apalachian mountains. It is not

improbable that our antiquarians frequently stumble upon the proofs of

their progress, which they fondly ascribe to a much earlier period. We

preserve, as subjects of proper comparison with aboriginal words still

in use, and by which localities may yet be identified, the names of many

of the chiefs with whom our Frenchmen maintained communion. From the

Indians of King Mollova, Captain Vasseur obtains five or six pounds of

silver. Mollova is the subject of a greater prince, named Olata Ovae

Utina. The tributaries of this great chief are numerous;--Cadecha,

Chilili, Eclavou, Enacappe, Calany, Anacharaqua, Omittaqua, Acquera,

Moquoso, and many others. Satouriova is the chief sovereign along the

waters of the May. He too hath numerous tributaries. He is the great

rival monarch of Olata Utina. Potanou is one of his chiefs, "a manne

cruel in warre, but pitiful in the execution of his furie." He usually

took his prisoners to mercy, branding them upon the arm, and setting

them free. Onatheaqua and Hostaqua are great chiefs, abounding in

riches, that dwell near the mountains. According to the tales of the

Indians of May River, the warriors of Olata Utina "armed their breasts,

armes, thighes, legs and foreheads with large plates of gold and

silver." Molona is a chief of the river of May, near the Frenchmen, and

hostile also to the Thimogoans. Malicá is another of these chiefs of

Satouriova, eager, like all the rest, to shed the blood of the hostile

people whom the Frenchmen have unwisely promised to destroy. In order to

win the favor of Molona, while that Paracoussi is entertaining them

at his dwelling, Capt. Vasseur, returning from an expedition to the

territories of Thimogoa, reports that nothing but their flight prevented

him from utterly destroying that people. Improving upon his superior,

one Francis La Caille, a sergeant, insisted that, with his sword, he has

run two of the Thimogoans through the body. But this falsehood demands

another for its security. The suspicious Indian insists upon handling

the sword, "which the sergeant would not denie him, thinking that hee

would have beheld the fashion of his weapon; but hee soon perceived that

it was to another ende; for the old man, holding it in his hand, behelde

it a long while on every place, to see if he could find any blood upon

it which might show that any of their enemies had beene killed. Hee was

on the point to say that he had killed none of the men of Thimogoa; when

La Vasseur preventing that which hee might object, showing, that, by

reason of the two Indians which he had slain, his sword was so bloody,

he was enforced to wash and make it cleane a long while in the river."

Another of the chiefs, dwelling near the Frenchmen, is Omoloa, an ally

of Satouriova. These two summon Laudonniere to the expedition for which

they have prepared themselves against the Thimogoans, and are offended

that he now excuses himself. He was too busy with his explorations for

any other object. But he sent to request two of his prisoners from

Satouriova, which were denied him; the old savage properly saying that

he owed him no service, as he had taken no part in the expedition. This

irritated the Frenchman, who, with twenty soldiers, suddenly appeared

in the dwelling of the Paracoussi, and demanded and carried off the

prisoners. His policy was, by freeing these prisoners, and sending them

home to their sovereign, to conciliate his favor; but, in the meantime,

he made an enemy of Satouriova. An expedition was prepared to carry back

the prisoners to Olata Utina. It was confided to Monsieur D'Erlach,

one of Laudonniere's lieutenants, and consisted of ten soldiers. Their

course lay up the river of May, more than fourscore leagues. They were

received by the great Paracoussi Utina, with much favor, and were easily

persuaded by him to take part in a war which he was even then waging

with his hereditary enemy, Potanou. A surprise is attempted, and a

battle ensues, in which the fire-arms of the French confound Potanou,

and subject him to a sore defeat. One of his towns is captured, and all

its men, women, and children, are made prisoners. Monsieur D'Erlach

returns to _La Caroline_, with no inconsiderable spoil of gold and

silver, skins painted, and other commodities of the Indians.

While thus engaged in the avaricious search for the precious metals,

Laudonniere began to receive some intimations of the error into which

he had fallen. The mistakes of his policy were beginning to appear in

their consequences. His ships had long since departed for France. He had

no present hope but in himself and his neighbors; and his garrison were

about to suffer from the want of necessaries such as they should have

relied upon their own industry to secure. The provisions furnished by

the Indians were rapidly failing them. They had offended Satouriova, and

thus forfeited the supplies which his favor might have furnished. In the

always limited stores of the natives, there was a natural limit, beyond

which they could neither sell nor give; since, to do so, would be to

lose the grain necessary for sowing their fields at the approaching

season. The exigencies of the colonies finally compelled them to seize

upon the stores which the providence of the Indians compelled them to

retain. These thus despoiled, withdrew promptly from the dangerous

neighborhood, and, but for a fortunate, and seemingly providential

circumstance, which afforded them succor for awhile, the distress of

the garrison might have realized anew the misfortunes of the people of

Fort Charles. We must let Laudonniere himself record the event, which

had such beneficial consequences, in his own language:

"Thus," said he, "things passed on in this manner, and the hatred of

Paracoussi Satouriova against mee did still continue, untill that, on

the nine and twentieth of August, a lightning from heaven fell within

halfe a league of our fort, more worthy, I believe, to be wondered at,

and to be put in writing, than all the strange signes which have beene

scene in times past. For, although the meadows were at that season all

greene, and halfe covered over with water, neverthelesse the lightning,

in one instant, consumed above five hundred acres thereof, and burned,

with the ardent heate thereof, all the foules which took their pastime

in the meadowes--which thus continued for three dayes space--which

caused us not a little to muse, not being able to judge whence this fire

proceeded. One while we thought that the Indians had burnt their houses

and abandoned their places for feare of us. Another while we thought

that they had discovered some shippes in the sea, and that, according

to their custome, they had kindled many fires here and there. * * * I

determined to sende to Paracoussi Serranay to knowe the truth. But, even

as I was about to sende one by boate, sixe Indians came unto me from

Paracoussi Allimicany, which, at their first entrie, made unto mee a

long discourse, and a very large and ample oration (after they had

presented mee with certain baskets full of maiz, of pompions, and of

grapes), of the loving amity which Allimicany desired to continue with

mee, and that he looked, from day to day, when it would please mee

to employ him in my service. Therefore, considering the serviceable

affection that hee bare unto mee, he found it very strange that I thus

_discharged mine ordnance against his dwelling_, which had burnt up an

infinite sight of greene meadowes, and consumed even downe unto the

bottom of the water."

The simple message of the Paracoussi, suggested some advantages to

Laudonniere, who did not now scruple to admit that all the mischief had

been done by his wanton ordnance. He had shot, not really to injure his

neighbor, but to let him form a proper idea of what he might do, in the

way of mischief, should he have the provocation at any time. Since,

however, the Paracoussi had come to the recollection of his duties,

he, Laudonniere, would protect him hereafter. The red-man had only to

continue faithful, and the white man would stifle his ordnance.

The sequel of this strange fire from heaven, may be given in few words.

For three days it remained unextinguished, and, for two more days, the

heat in the atmosphere was insupportable. The river suffered from a

sympathetic heat, and seemed ready to seethe. The fish in it died in

such abundance, of all sorts, _that enough were founde to have laden

fiftie carts_. The air became putrid with the effluvia; the greater

number of the garrison fell sick, and suffered nearly to death; while

the poor savages removed to a distance from the region, which, since the

settlement of the colonists, had been productive of little but mischief

unto them. The distress of Laudonniere, under these events, was

increased by discontents and mutinies among his people. They were not of

a class so docile as their predecessors under Albert. These, certainly,

would not have borne so patiently with such a sway. The government of

Laudonniere, if not a wise, was not a brutal or despotic one. But

they threatened equally his peace and safety. They had cause for

apprehension, if not for commotion. The promised supplies from France,

which were to be brought by Ribault, had failed to arrive, and the

discontent in the colony was beginning to assume an aspect the most

serious. At this point, our narrative must enter somewhat more into

details, and, for the sake of compactness, we must somewhat anticipate

events.

XI.

CONSPIRACY OF LE GENRÉ.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

The necessities of the colony now began to open the eyes of Laudonniere

in respect to the errors of which he had been guilty. He found it

important to discontinue his explorations among the Indian tribes, and

to employ his garrison in domestic labors. They must either work or

starve. Their tasks in the fields were assigned accordingly. This

produced discontent among those who, having for some time, in Europe as

well as recently in the new world, been chiefly employed as soldiers,

regarded labor as degrading, and still flattered themselves with the

more agreeable hope of achieving their fortunes by shorter processes.

Their appetite for the precious metals had been sufficiently enlivened

by the glimpses which had been given them, during their intercourse with

the natives, of the unquestionable treasures of the country. It was

still farther whetted by the influence of two persons of the garrison.

One of these was named La Roquette, of the country of Perigort;

the other was known as Le Genré, a lieutenant, and somewhat in the

confidence of Laudonniere. Le Genré was the bold conspirator. La

Roquette was perhaps quite as potential, though from art rather than

audacity. He pretended to be a great magician, and acquired large

influence over the more ignorant soldiers on the score of his supposed

capacity to read the book of fate. Among his professed discoveries

through this medium, were certain mines of gold and silver, far in the

interior, the wealth of which was such--and he pledged his life upon

it--that, upon a fair division, after awarding the king's portion, each

soldier would receive not less than ten thousand crowns. The arguments

and assurances of La Roquette persuaded Le Genré, among the rest. He

was exceedingly covetous, and sought eagerly all royal roads for the

acquisition of fortune. He was more easily beguiled into conspiracy, in

consequence of the refusal of Laudonniere to give him the command of a

packet returning into France. It was determined to depose and destroy

the latter. Several schemes were tried for this purpose; by poison, by

gunpowder, all of which failed, and resulted in the ruin only of the

conspirators. With this introduction we introduce the reader more

particularly to the parties of our history.

XII.

THE CONSPIRACY OF LE GENRÉ.--Chap. I.

Le Genré, one of the lieutenants of Laudonniere, was of fierce and

intractable temper. His passions had been thwarted by his superior,

whose preferences were clearly with another of his lieutenants, named

D'Erlach.[21] This preference was quite sufficient to provoke the envy

and enmity of Le Genré. His dislike was fully retorted, and with equal

spirit by his brother officer. But the feelings of D'Erlach, who was the

more noble and manly of the two, were restrained by his prudence and

sense of duty. It had been the task of Laudonniere more than once to

interfere between these persons, and prevent those outrages which he had

every reason to apprehend from their mutual excitability; and it was

partly with the view to keep the parties separate, that he had so

frequently despatched D'Erlach upon his exploring expeditions. One of

these appointments, however, which Le Genré had desired for himself, had

given him no little mortification when he found that, as usual, D'Erlach

had received the preference from his superior. It was no proper

disparagement of the claims of others that D'Erlach had been thus

preferred. That he was a favorite, was, perhaps, quite as much due to

his own merits as to the blind partiality of his superior. In choosing

him for the command of his most important expeditions, Laudonniere was,

in fact, doing simple justice to the superior endowments of caution,

prudence, moderation, and firmness, which the young officer confessedly

possessed in very eminent degree. But Le Genré was not the person to

recognize these arguments, or to acknowledge the superior fitness of

his colleague. His discontents, fanned by the arts of others, and daily

receiving provocation from new causes, finally wrought his blood into

such a state of feverish irritation, as left but little wanting to goad

him to actual insubordination and mutiny.

[21] Laudonniere, in Hakluyt, spells this name improperly. It is

properly written D'Erlach. "Ce Gentilhomme," says Charlevoix, "étoit

Suisse, et il n'y a point de maison de Suisse plus connuë que celle

d'Erlach."

Laudonniere was not ignorant of the factious spirit of his discontented

lieutenant. He had been warned by D'Erlach that he was a person to

be watched, and his own observations had led him equally to this

conviction. His eye, accordingly, was fixed keenly and suspiciously upon

the offender, but cautiously, however, so as to avoid giving unnecessary

pain or provocation. But Laudonniere's vigilance was partial only;

and his suspicions were by no means so intense as those of D'Erlach.

Besides, his attention was divided among his discontents. He had

become painfully conscious that Le Genré was not alone in his factious

feelings. He felt that the spirit of this officer was widely spreading

in the garrison. The moods of others, sullen, peevish, and doubtful, had

already startled his fears; and he too well knew the character of his

_personnel_, and from what sources they had been drawn, not to be

apprehensive of their tempers. Signs of insubordination had been shown

already, on various occasions; and had not Laudonniere been of that

character which more easily frets with its doubts than provides against

them, he might have legitimately employed a salutary punishment in

anticipating worse offences. The looks of many had become habitually

sullen, their words few and abrupt when addressed to their commander,

while their tasks were performed coldly and with evident reluctance.

Without exhibiting any positive or very decided conduct, by which to

leave themselves open to rebuke, their deportment was such as to betray

the impatience of bitter and resentful moods, which only forbore open

utterance by reason of their fears. Laudonniere, without having absolute

cause to punish, was equally wanting in the nice tact which can,

adroitly, and without a fall from dignity, conciliate the inferior.

Angry at the appearances which he could neither restrain nor chastise,

he was not sufficiently the commander to descend happily to soothe. In

this distracted condition of mind, he prepared to despatch his third

and last vessel to France, to implore the long-expected supplies and

assistance.

It was a fine evening, at the close of September, such an evening as

we frequently experience during that month in the South, when a cool

breeze, arising from the ocean, ascends to the shores and the forests,

and compensates, by its exquisite and soothing freshness, for the

burning heat and suffocating atmosphere of the day. Our Frenchmen at La

Caroline were prepared to enjoy the embraces of this soothing minister.

Some walked upon the parapets of the fortress, others lay at length

along the bluff of the river, while others again, in the shade of trees

farther inland, grouped together in pleasant communion, enjoyed the song

or the story, with as much gaiety as if all their cares were about to be

buried with the sun that now hung, shorn of his fiery locks, just above

the horizon. Laudonniere passed among these groups with the look of one

who did not sympathize with their enjoyments. He was feeble, dull, and

only just recovering from a sickness which had nigh been fatal. His eye

rested upon the river where lay the vessel, the last remaining to his

command, which, in two days more, was to be despatched for France. He

had just left her, and his course now lay for the deep woods, a mile

or more inland. He was followed, or rather accompanied, by a youth,

apparently about nineteen or twenty years of age--a younger brother of

D'Erlach, his favorite lieutenant. This young man shared in the odium of

his brother, as he also was supposed to enjoy too largely the favors of

Laudonniere. The truth was, that he was much more the favorite than his

brother. He was a youth of great intelligence and sagacity, observing

mind, quick wit, and shrewd, capacious remark. The slower thought of his

commander was quickened by his intelligence, and relied, much more than

the latter would have been willing to allow, upon the insinuated, rather

than expressed, suggestions of the youth. Alphonse D'Erlach, but for

his breadth of shoulders and activity of muscle, would have seemed

delicately made. He was certainly effeminately habited. He had a boyish

love of ornament which was perhaps natural at his age, but it had

been observed that his brother Achille, though thirty-five, displayed

something of a like passion. Our youth wore his dagger and his pistols,

the former hung about his neck by a scarf, and the latter were stuck in

the belt about his waist. The dagger was richly hilted, and the pistols,

though of excellent structure, were rather more remarkable for the

beauty of their ornaments than for their size and seeming usefulness as

weapons for conflict.

"And you think, Alphonse," said Laudonniere, when they had entered

the wood, "that Le Genré is really anxious to return to France in the

Sylph."

"I say nothing about his return to France, but that he will apply to you

for the command of the Sylph, I am very certain."

"Well! And you?----"

"Would let him have her."

"Indeed! I am sorry, Alphonse, to hear you say so. Le Genré is not fit

for such a trust. He has no judgment, no discretion. It would be a

hundred to one that he never reached France."

"That is just my opinion," said the youth, coolly.

"Well! And with this opinion, you would have me risk the vessel in his

hands?"

"Yes, I would! The simple question is, not so much the safety of the

vessel as our own. He is a dangerous person. His presence here is

dangerous to us. If he stays, unless our force is increased, in another

month he will have the fortress in his hands; he will be master here.

You have no power even now to prevent him. You know not whom to trust.

The very parties that you arm and send out for provisions, might,

if they pleased, turn upon and rend us. If _he_ were not the most

suspicious person in the world--doubtful of the very men that serve

him--he would soon bring the affair to an issue. Fortunately, he doubts

rather more than we confide. He knows not his own strength, and your

seeming composure leads him to overrate ours. But he is getting wiser.

The conspiracy grows every day. I am clear that you should let him go,

take his vessel, pick his crew, and disappear. He will not go to France,

that I am certain. He will shape his course for the West Indies as soon

as he is out of our sight, and be a famous picaroon before the year is

over."

"Alphonse, you are an enemy of Le Genré."

"That is certain," replied the youth; "but if I am his enemy, that is no

good reason why I should be the enemy of truth."

"True, but you suspect much of this. You know nothing."

"I _know_ all that I have told you," replied the young man, warmly.

"Indeed! How?"

"That I cannot tell. Enough that I am free to swear upon the Holy

Evangel, that all I say is true. Le Genré is at the head of a faction

which is conspiring against you."

"Can you give me proof of this?"

"Yes, whenever you dare issue the order for his arrest and that of

others. But this you cannot do. You must not. They are too strong for

you. If Achille were here now!"

"Ay! Would he were!"

They now paused, as if the end of their walk had been reached.

Laudonniere wheeled about, with the purpose of returning. They had not

begun well to retrace their steps before the figure of a person was seen

approaching them.

"Speak of the devil," said Alphonse, "and he thinks himself called; here

comes Le Genré."

"Indeed!" said Laudonniere.

"See now if I am not right--he comes to solicit the command of the

Sylph."

They were joined by the person of whom they had been speaking. His

approach was respectful--his manner civil--his tones subdued. There was

certainly a change for the better in his deportment. A slight smile

might have been seen to turn the corner of the lips of young D'Erlach,

as he heard the address of the new comer. Le Genré began by requesting

a private interview with his commander. Upon the words, D'Erlach went

aside and was soon out of hearing. His prediction was true. Le Genré

respectfully, but earnestly, solicited the command of the vessel about

to sail for France. He was civilly but positively denied. Laudonniere

had not been impressed by the suggestion of his youthful counsellor; or,

if he were, he was not prepared to yield a vessel of the king, with all

its men and munitions, to the control of one who might abuse them to the

worst purposes. The face of Le Genré changed upon this refusal.

"You deny me all trust, Monsieur," he said. "You refused me the command

when my claim was at least equal to that of Ottigny. You denied me

that which you gave to D'Erlach, and now--Monsieur, do you hold me

incompetent to this command?"

"Nay," said Laudonniere, "but I better prefer your services here--I

cannot so well dispense with them."

A bitter smile crossed the lips of the applicant.

"I cannot complain of a refusal founded upon so gracious a compliment.

But, enough, Monsieur, you refuse me! May I ask, who will be honored

with this command?"

"Lenoir!"

"I thought so--another favorite! Well!--Monsieur, I wish you a good

evening."

"You have refused him, I see," said Alphonse, returning as the other

disappeared.

"Yes, I could do no less. The very suggestion that he might convert the

vessel to piratical purposes, was enough to make me resolve against

him."

And, still discussing that and other kindred subjects, Laudonniere

and his young companion followed in the steps of La Genré towards the

fortress.

CHAPTER II.

That night the young Alphonse D'Erlach might have been seen stealing

cautiously from the quarters of Laudonniere, and winding along under

cover of the palisades to one of the entrances of the fortress. He

was wrapped in a huge and heavy cloak which effectually disguised his

person. Here he was joined by another, whom he immediately addressed:

"Bon Pre?"

"The same: all's ready."

"Have they gone?"

"Yes!"

"Let us go."

They went together to the entrance. The person whom Alphonse called

Bon Pre, was a short, thick-set person, fully fifty years of age. They

approached the sentry at the gate.

"Let us out, my son," said Bon Pre; "we are late."

When they were without the walls, they stole along through the ditch,

concealed in the deep shade of the place, cautiously avoiding all

exposure to the star-light. On reaching a certain point, they ascended,

and, taking the cover of bush and tree, made their way to the river,

and getting into a boat which lay beneath the banks, pushed off, and

suffered her to drop down the stream, the old man simply using the

paddle to shape her course. A brief conversation, in whispers, followed

between them.

"You told him all?" asked Bon Pre.

"No; but just enough for our purpose. As I told you, he believes

nothing. He is too good a man himself to believe any body thoroughly

bad."

"He will grow wiser before he is done. You did not suffer him to know

where you got your information?"

"No--surely not. He would have been for having a court, and a trial, and

all that sort of thing. You would have sworn to the truth in vain, and

they would assassinate you. We must only do what we can to prevent, and

leave the punishment for another season. If time is allowed us----"

"Ay, but that 'if!'" said the old man. "Time will not be allowed. Le

Genré will be rather slow--but there are some persons not disposed to

wait for the return of the parties under Ottigny and your brother."

"Enough!" said D'Erlach--"Here is the cypress."

With these words, the course of the canoe was arrested, the prow turned

in towards the shore, and adroitly impelled, by the stroke of Bon Pre's

paddle, directly into the cavernous opening of an ancient cypress which

stood in the water, but close to the banks. This ancient tree stood,

as it were, upon two massive abutments. The cavern into which the boat

passed was open in like manner on the opposite side. The prow of the

canoe ran in upon the land, while the stern rested within the body of

the tree. Alphonse cautiously stepped ashore, and was followed by his

older companion. They were now upon the same side of the river with the

fortress. The course which they had taken had two objects. To avoid

fatigue and detection in a progress by land, and to reach a given point

in advance of the conspirators, who had taken that route. Of course, our

two companions had timed their movements with reference to the previous

progress of the former. They advanced in the direction of the fort,

which lay some three miles distant, but at the distance of fifty or

sixty yards from the place where they landed, came to a knoll thickly

overgrown with trees and shrubbery. A creek ran at its foot, in the

bed of which stood numerous cypresses--amongst these Alphonse D'Erlach

disappeared, while Bon Pre ascended the knoll, and seated himself in

waiting upon a fallen cypress.

He had not long to wait. In less than twenty minutes, a whistle was

heard--to which Bon Pre responded, in the notes of an owl. The sound of

voices followed, and, after a little interval, one by one, seven persons

ascended the knoll, and entered the area which was already partially

occupied by Bon Pre. There were few preliminaries, and Le Genré opened

the business. Bon Pre, it is seen, was one of the conspirators and in

their fullest confidence. He had left the fort before them, or had

pretended to do so. They had each left at different periods. We have

seen his route. It is only necessary to add, that they had come together

but a little while before their junction at the knoll. Of course, their

several revelations had yet to be made. Le Genré commenced by relating

his ill success in regard to the vessel.

"We must have it, at all hazards," said Stephen Le Genevois, "we can do

nothing without it."

"I do not see that;" was the reply of Jean La Roquette. This person,

it may be well to say, was one possessing large influence among the

conspirators. He claimed to be a magician, dealt much in predictions,

consulted the stars, and other signs, as well of earth as of heaven;

and, among other things, pretended, by reason of his art, to know where,

at no great distance, was a mine of silver, the richest in the world.

Almost his sole reason for linking himself with the conspirators,

was the contempt with which his pretensions had been treated by his

commander, in regard to the search after this mine.

"I do not see," he replied, "that this vessel is so necessary to us. A

few canoes will serve us better."

"Canoes--for what?" was the demand of Le Genevois.

"Why, for ascending the rivers, for avoiding the fatigue of land travel,

for bringing down our bullion."

"Pshaw! You are at your silver mine again; but that is slow work. I

prefer that which the Spaniard has already gathered; which he has run

into solid bars and made ready for the king's face. I prefer fighting

for my silver, to digging for it."

"Ay! fighting--no digging;" said Le Genré and he was echoed by other

voices. But La Roquette was not to be silenced. His opinions were

re-stated and insisted upon with no small vehemence, and the controversy

grew warm as to the future course of the party--whether they should

explore the land for silver ore, or the Spanish seas for bullion.

"_Messieurs_," said one named Fourneaux, "permit me to say that you are

counting your chickens before they are out of the shell. Why cumber our

discussion with unnecessary difficulties? The first thing to consider

is how to get our freedom. We can determine hereafter what use we shall

make of it. There are men enough, or will be enough, when we have got

rid of Laudonniere, to undertake both objects. Some may take the seas,

and some the land; some to digging. Each man to his taste. All may

be satisfied--there need be no restraint. The only matter now to be

adjusted, is to be able to choose at all. Let us not turn aside from

the subject."

These sensible suggestions quieted the parties, and each proceeded to

report progress. One made a return of the men he had got over, another

of the arms in possession, and a third of ammunition. But the question

finally settled down upon the fate of Laudonniere, and a few of his

particular friends, the young D'Erlach being the first among them. On

this subject, the conspirators not only all spoke, but they all spoke

together. They were vehement enough, willing to destroy their enemy, but

their words rather declared their anger, than any particular mode of

effecting their object. At length Fourneaux again spoke.

"_Messieurs_," said he, "you all seem agreed upon two things; the first

is, that, before we can do anything, Laudonniere and that young devil,

D'Erlach, must be disposed of; the second, that this is rather a

difficult matter. It is understood that they may rally a sufficient

force to defeat us--that we are not in the majority yet, though we hope

to be so; and that a great number who are now slow to join us, will be

ready enough, if the blow were once struck successfully. In this, I

think, you all perfectly agree."

"Ay--ay! There you are right--that's it;" was the response of Le Genré

and Stephen Le Genevois.

"Very well; now, as it is doubtful who are certainly the friends of

Laudonniere, it is agreed that we must move against him secretly. Is

there any difficulty in this? There are several ways of getting rid of

an enemy without lifting dagger or pistol. Is not the magician here--the

chemist, La Roquette?--has he no knowledge of certain poisons, which,

once mingled in the drink of a captain, can shut his eyes as effectually

as if it were done with bullet or steel? And if this fails, are there

not other modes of contriving an accident? I have a plan now, which,

with your leave, I think the very thing for our purpose. Laudonniere's

quarters, as you all know, stand apart from all the rest, with the

exception of the little building occupied by the division of Le Genré,

with which it is connected by the old bath-room. This bath-room is

abandoned since Laudonniere has taken to the river. Suppose Le Genré

here should, for safe-keeping, put a keg of gunpowder under the

captain's quarters? and suppose farther, that, by the merest mischance,

he should suffer a train of powder to follow his footsteps, as he

crawls from one apartment to the other; and suppose again, that, while

Laudonniere sleeps, some careless person should suffer a coal of fire to

rest, only for a moment, upon the train in the bath-house. By my life,

I think such an accident would spare us the necessity of attempting

the life of our beloved captain. It would be a sort of providential

interposition."

"Say no more! It shall be done!" said Le Genré. "I will do it!"

"Ay, should the other measure fail; but I am for trying the poison

first;" said Fourneaux, "for such an explosion would send a few

fragments of timber about other ears than those of the captain. He takes

his coffee at sunrise. Can we not drug it?"

"Let that be my task;" said old Bon Pre, who had hitherto taken little

part in this conference.

"You are the very man," said Fourneaux. "He takes his coffee from your

hands. La Roquette will provide the poison."

"When shall this be done?" demanded Le Genré. "We can do nothing

to-night. It will require time to-morrow to prepare the train."

"Ay, that is your part; but may not Bon Pre do his to-morrow? and should

he fail----"

"Why should he fail?" demanded La Roquette. "Let him but dress his

coffee with my spices, and he cannot fail."

"Yes," replied Bon Pre, "but it is not always that Laudonniere drinks

his coffee. If he happens to be asleep when I bring it, I do not wake

him, but put it on the table by his bedside, and, very frequently, if it

is cold when he wakes, he leaves it untasted."

"Umph! but at all events, there is the other accident. That can be made

to take effect at mid-night to-morrow--eh! what say you, Le Genré?"

"Without fail! It is sworn!"

Their plans being adjusted, the meeting was dissolved, and the parties

separately dispersed, each to make his way back, as he best might, so

as to avoid suspicion or detection, to Fort Caroline. They had scarcely

disappeared when Alphonse D'Erlach emerged from the hollow of a cypress

which stood upon the edge of the knoll where their conference had taken

place.

CHAPTER III.

Alphonse D'Erlach was one of those remarkable persons who seem, in

periods of great excitement, to be entirely superior to its influence.

He appeared to be entirely without emotions. Though a mere youth,

not yet firm in physical manhood, he was, in morals, endowed with a

strength, a hardihood and maturity, which do not often fall to the lot

of middle age. In times of difficulty, he possessed a coolness which

enabled him to contemplate deliberately the approach of danger, and

he was utterly beyond surprises. His conference with old Bon Pre,

when they met again that night was remarkably illustrative of these

characteristics.

"What shall we do?" demanded the old man.

"Your part is easily done," was the reply--"you are simply to do

nothing--to forbear doing. I understand your purpose in volunteering to

do the poisoning. I will see Laudonniere in an hour. You will prepare

the coffee--nay, let Fourneaux, or that fool of a magician himself,

introduce the poison. Laudonniere will sleep, you understand."

"But, Le Genré--the gunpowder!"

"I will see to that."

"What will you do?"

"Nay, time must find the answer. I am not resolved; but, at all events,

for the present, Laudonniere must know nothing. He must remain in

ignorance."

"Why?"

"For the best reason in the world. Did he guess what we know, he would

be for arming himself and all around him--creating a confusion under

the name of law--attempting arrests, and so proceeding as to give

opportunities to the conspirators to do that boldly, which they are

now content to do basely. I think we shall thwart them with their own

weapons. Let us separate now. I will see Laudonniere but a few moments

before I sleep."

"_Can_ you sleep to-night? I cannot! I shall hardly be able to sleep

till the affair is over. I do not think, honestly speaking, that I have

slept a good hour for the last week. I am certainly not conscious of

having done so."

"Nature provides for all such cases. For my part I never want sleep--I

always have it. I can sleep in a storm and enjoy it just as well. The

uproar of winds and seas never troubles me. If it does, it is only to

lull me into sleep again. I am a philosopher without knowing it, and by

accident. But come--we must part."

The chamber of D'Erlach was in the same building with that of

Laudonniere. They slept in adjoining apartments. D'Erlach purposely

made some noise in approaching his, and Laudonniere cried out,

"Who is there?--Alphonse?"

"The same, sir."

"Come in--where have you been at this hour; is it not very late?"

"Almost time for waking--an hour probably from dawn, though I know not

exactly. But, suffer me to extinguish this light. We can talk as well in

the dark."

"What have you to say?" demanded Laudonniere, half rising at this

preliminary.

"I have been getting some new lessons in chess from old Marchand."

"Ah! what new lesson?" asked Laudonniere, whose passion for the game had

prompted D'Erlach with the suggestion he made use of.

"Marchand, sir, is a most wonderful player. I have seen a great many

persons skilled at the game, not to speak of yourself, and I am sure

there is no one who can stand him. He absolutely laughs at my

opposition. I wish you could play with him, sir."

"I should like it, Alphonse," replied the other, "but you know my

position. This man, Marchand, is a turbulent person; scarcely respectful

to me, and, if there be, as you think, a conspiracy on foot against me,

he is at the head of it, be sure."

"Not so;" said the other, quietly, but decisively; "not so. His

bluntness is that of an honest man. His turbulence is that of

self-esteem. He is above a base action, and, secure in his own

character, he defies the scrutiny of superiority. I think you mistake

him; at all events it is necessary that you should know him in chess. I

am anxious to see you and him in conflict; and, if you will permit me,

he shall bring his own men--for he will play with no other--he has his

notions on the point--here, to-morrow night, when you will discover that

he is not only a great player but a good fellow."

"You are a singular person, Alphonse;" said Laudonniere, smiling. "What

should put chess into your head at such a time, particularly when you

say there is such danger?"

"The man who can play chess when danger threatens is the very man to

discover it; and the conspirator is never more likely to become resolved

in his purpose than when he finds his destined victim in a state of

anxiety. I should rather my enemy see me at chess--provided I can see

him--than that he should find me putting my arms in readiness. They may

be conveniently under the table, while the chess-board is upon it; and

while I am moving my pawn with one hand, I can prepare my pistol with

the other. But, sir, with your further permission, I will bring Challus

and Le Moyne to see the match. They are both passionately fond of the

game, and Le Moyne plays well, though nothing to compare either with

yourself or Marchand."

"By the way, Alphonse, how is Le Moyne getting on with his pictures? It

certainly was a strange idea of the Admiral, that of sending out, with

such an expedition, painters of pictures and such persons. I can see the

use of a mineralogist and botanist, but--these painters!"

"Le Moyne has made some very lovely pictures of the country. His

landscapes are to the life, and he has that rare knowledge of the

painter, which enables him to choose his point of view happily, and

tells him how much to take in, and how much to leave out. The Admiral

will be able to form a better idea of the country from the pictures of

Le Moyne, than he will from the pebbles of Delille or the dried flowers

and leaves of Serrier. Le Moyne shows him the rivers and the trees, the

valleys and the hills; and, if his pictures get safely to France, the

people there will envy us the paradise here which we are so little able

to enjoy."

Laudonniere heard the youth with half-shut eyes, and the dialogue

languished on the part of the former; but D'Erlach seemed resolute

to keep him wakeful, and suggested continually new provocatives to

conversation, until his superior, absolutely worn out with exhaustion,

bade him go to sleep himself or suffer him to do so. Alphonse smiled,

and left the room perfectly satisfied, as he beheld the faint streakings

of daylight gliding through the interstices between the logs of which

the building was composed. In less than an hour, hearing a sound as of

one entering, he hastily went out of his chamber, for he had neither

undressed himself nor slept, and met Bon Pre, with the salver of coffee,

about to go into the chamber of Laudonniere.

"Well, is it spiced? Has La Roquette furnished the drug?"

"His own hands put it in."

"Very well; let us in together. Laudonniere is not likely to awaken

soon, and I will remain with him 'till he does. If the coffee cools, and

he offers not to drink, well. I will say nothing. It is best that he

should know nothing 'till all's over."

"But the rest!" said Bon Pre, in a whisper.

"We must manage that, also, quite as well as this."

"If you should want help?"

"We must find it. But the thing must go forward to the end. Remember

_that_! This scoundrel must be suffered to burn his fingers."

"Can you contrive it--_you, alone_?"

"I think so; but, Bon Pre, you are here, and Challus, and Le Moyne, and

Beauvais and Marchand, and, perhaps, one or two more--true men upon whom

we can rely--and these, mark me, must be in readiness. Of this you shall

learn hereafter."

They entered the chamber of Laudonniere. He still slept. Bon Pre placed

the vessel of coffee beside him and disappeared. D'Erlach seated himself

at a little distance from the couch. When Laudonniere wakened the

liquor was cold. He laid it down again.

"What! you here, Alphonse; but you have been to bed?"

"I do not sleep as soundly as you. I left my chamber as old Bon Pre

brought your coffee, and entered with him. You do not drink?"

"The coffee is cold."

"It spoils your breakfast, too, I imagine. You do not eat heartily at

breakfast."

"No; dinner is my meal. But, Alphonse--did I dream, or did we not have

some conversation about Marchand and chess-playing last night?"

"We did! This morning rather."

"Is he the great player you describe him?"

"He is. I can think of none better."

"Well--saucy as he is, I must meet him."

"You permitted me to arrange for it, to-night. I had your consent to

bring some amateurs."

"Yes, I _do_ recollect something of it--Le Moyne and--"

"Challus."

"Very well--let them come; but they must be patient. If Marchand is such

a player, I must be cool and cautious. I must beat him."

"You will, but you will work for it. Marchand will keep you busy. And

now, sir, there is another matter which I beg leave to bring to your

remembrance. You remember the cypress canoe that lies upon the river

banks, three miles or more above. It was claimed by the old chief

Satouriova. We shall want it here for various, and, perhaps, important

uses, when the ship sails. She will take most of your boats with her.

Let me recommend that you send a detachment for this boat to-day. It

should be an armed detachment, for the old chief is most certainly our

enemy, and may be in the neighborhood. I would send Lieutenant Le Genré,

as he lacks employment. I would give him his choice of six or eight

companions, as, if he does not choose his own men, he might be apt to

tyrannize over those who are friendly to you. Perhaps it would be better

to give your orders early, that he should start at noon, as, at mid-day,

the tide will serve for bringing the boat up without toil."

"Why, Alphonse, you are very nice in your details. But, you are right,

and the arrangement is a good one."

"The sooner Le Genré receives his orders the more time for

preparations;" said the youth indifferently.

"He shall have them as soon as I go below."

By this time Laudonniere was dressed and they descended the court

together.

"Has he drunk," asked Le Genré anxiously, with Forneaux and La Roquette

on each side, as they beheld Bon Pre descending from the chamber of

Laudonniere with the vessel in his hand. The old man raised the silver

lid of the coffee-pot, and showed the contents.

"Diable!" was the half-suppressed exclamation of La Roquette.

"Enough, comrade!" said Le Genré, in a whisper--"it remains for me."

They separated, and entered, from different points, the area where

Laudonniere stood.

"Lieutenant;" said the latter, as Le Genré appeared in sight--"Take six

men at noon and go up to the bluff of the old chief Satouriova and bring

away the cypress canoe of which we took possession some time since.

Launch her and bring her up. The tide will serve at that hour. Let your

men be armed to the teeth, and keep on your guard, for you may meet the

old savage on your way."

Le Genré touched his hat and retired.

"It is well," said he to Fourneaux, whom he had chosen as one of his

companions, "that the commission did not send me off at once. I must

make my preparation quickly and before I go."

Unseen and unsuspected, Alphonse D'Erlach was conscious all the while

that the enemy was busy. But Laudonniere saw nothing to suspect, either

in his countenance, or in the proceedings of the conspirator. At noon,

Le Genré commenced his march, the only toils of which were over, when

once the canoe was in their possession. The vessel was amply large to

carry twenty soldiers as well as six, and the tide alone would bring

them to the fortress in an hour or two.

The labors of Alphonse began as soon as Le Genré had disappeared

with his party. The six men whom he had taken with him, were his

confederates. The object of the youth was to operate in security, free

from their _surveillance_. Still, his proceedings were conducted with

great caution. Laudonniere neither suspected his industry nor its

object. Arms and ammunition were accumulated in his chamber. Beauvais,

and one or two brave and trusty friends, were placed there without the

privity of any one, and the chess-party, including Marchand, Le Moyne

and Challus, were properly apprized of the arrangements for the game

between the former and Laudonniere. They were all amateurs, and there

was good wine to be had on such occasions. They did not refuse. Alphonse

took pains to noise about the expected meeting, and its object, and

showed his own interest by betting freely upon his captain. He soon

found those who were willing to risk their gold upon Marchand; and

the lively Frenchmen of La Caroline, were very soon all agog for the

approaching contest. But the labors of the youth did not cease here. He

explored the cellar of the building in which he and Laudonniere slept,

and there, as he expected, the arrangements had been already made for

sending the Chief and himself by the shortest possible road to heaven.

A keg of powder had been wedged in beneath the beams, with a train,

following which, on hands and knees, Alphonse was conducted under the

old bath-house, till he found himself beneath that of Le Genré. He did

not disturb the train. He simply withdrew the keg of powder, carefully

putting back, in the manner he found them, the old boxes and piles of

wood, with which the incendiary had wedged it between the beams. This

done, he rolled the keg before him over the path, by which it had

evidently come, beneath the bath-house, and to that of Le Genré. Here

he left it, still connected with the train of powder, but rather less

distant from the match than Le Genré had ever contemplated. Perhaps, he

sprinkled the train anew with fresh powder--it is certain that he went

away secure and satisfied, long before Le Genré returned from his

expedition, with the canoe of Satouriova.

CHAPTER IV.

At the hour appointed that night, for the contest between the chess

players, Marchand, accompanied by Le Moyne and Challus, made his

appearance in the apartments of René Laudonniere. Those of Alphonse

D'Erlach were already occupied by four or five trusty fellows; and the

arms which filled the apartment were ample for the defence of the party,

while in the building, against any number assailing from without. The

foresight of Alphonse had made all the necessary preparations, to

encounter any foe, who might, after the explosion, attempt to carry

their object in a bold way. He had no fear of this, but his habitual

forethought led to the precautions. Meanwhile, of the designs against

him and of the means taken for his safety, Laudonniere had not the

slightest suspicion. His thoughts were occupied with one danger

only--that of being beaten by Marchand. He valued himself upon his

play--was one of those persons who never suffer themselves to be beaten

when they can possibly help it--even by a lady. If our captain made

any preparations, that day, it was for the supper that night, and the

contest which was to follow it. His instruction, on the first matter,

given to his cook, he retired to his chamber and exercised himself

throughout the day in a series of studies in the game--planning new

combinations to be brought into play, if possible, in the contest which

was to follow. His welcome to Marchand declared the opinion which he

himself entertained of his studies.

"I shall beat you, Marchand."

"You can't--you shan't," was the ready answer; "you're not my match,

captain."

This answer piqued Laudonniere.

"We shall see--we shall see; not your match! Well! we shall see."

We need not waste time upon the preliminaries of the contest. Enough

that, about ten o'clock at night, we find the rival players placed at

the table; the opposing pieces arrayed in proper order of battle, with

Le Moyne and Challus, looking on with faces filled with expectation and

curiosity. The face of Alphonse D'Erlach might also be perceptible, in a

momentary glance over the shoulders of one or other of the parties; but

his movements were capricious, and, passing frequently between his own

and the chamber of Laudonniere, he only looked at intervals upon the

progress of the game. Unhappily, the details of this great match, the

several moves, and the final position of the remaining pieces, at the

end of the contest, have not been preserved to us, though it is not

improbable that the painter Le Moyne, as well as Challus, took notes of

it. Enough, that Laudonniere put forth all his skill, exercised all his

caution, played as slowly and heedfully as possible, and was----but we

anticipate. Marchand, on the contrary, seemed never more indifferent. He

scarcely seemed to look at the board--played promptly, even rapidly, and

wore one of those cool, almost contemptuous, countenances which seemed

to say, "I know myself and my enemy, and feel sure that I have no

cause of fear." That his opinions were of this character is beyond all

question; but, though his countenance expressed as much, Laudonniere

reassured himself with the reflection that Marchand was well understood

to be one of those fortunate persons who know admirably how to disguise

their real emotions, however deeply they may be excited or anxious.

Laudonniere's self-esteem was not deficient, in the absence of better

virtues. He had his vanity at chess, and the game was so played, that

the issue continued doubtful, except possibly to one of the spectators,

almost to the last moment. Leaving the parties at the board, silent and

studious, let us turn to the counsels of the conspirators, whom we must

not suppose to be idle all this time.

They had assembled--half a dozen of them at least--and were in close

conference at the quarters of La Roquette, at the opposite extremity of

the fortress. They were all excited to the highest pitch of expectation.

The hour was drawing nigh for the attempt, and all eyes were turned upon

Le Genré.

"It is half past eleven," he exclaimed, "and the thing is to be done.

But what is to be done, if those men whom we hold doubtful should take

courage, and, in the moment of uproar take arms against us? We have

made no preparations for this event. Now, this firing the train from my

lodgings is but the work of a boy. It may be done by any body. It is

more fitting that, with six or eight select men, well armed, I should be

in reserve, ready to encounter resistance should there be any after the

explosion."

Villemain, a youth of twenty-two, a dark, sinister-looking person,

slight and short, promptly volunteered to fire the train. His offer was

at once accepted.

"It is half-past eleven, you say? I will go at once," said Villemain.

"We will go with you," cried La Roquette and Stephen Le Genevois in the

same breath.

"No! no! not so!" said Le Genré. "You have each duties to perform. You

must scatter yourselves as much as possible, so as to increase the alarm

at the proper moment. There will be little danger, I grant you, with

Laudonniere, and that imp of the devil, D'Erlach, out of the way; but it

must be prepared for. Once show the rest that these are done for, and we

shall do as we think proper."

"What a fortunate thing for us is this game of chess. It disposes of

the only persons we could not so easily have managed;" said Fourneaux.

"Boxes them up, as one may say, so that they only need a mark upon them

to be ready for shipment."

"And yet, somehow, I could wish," said Le Genevois, "that Marchand were

not among them. I like that fellow. He is so bold, so blunt, and plays

his game just as if it were his religion."

"I could wish to save the painter, if any," remarked La Roquette; "but

at all events, we shall inherit his pictures."

"Bah! let the devil take him and them together! Why bother about such

stuff; what's his pictures of the country to us, when the country itself

is our own, to keep or to quit just as it pleases us? We are wasting

time. Where's Villemain?"

"Here--ready!"

"Depart, then," said Le Genré; "the sooner you light the match after you

reach my quarters, the better. We shall be ready for the blast."

"He is gone!" said Fourneaux.

"Let us follow, and each to his task;" cried Le Genré. "Each of you

take care of the flying timbers; find you covers as you may. My men are

mustered behind the old granary. _Adieu, my friends_,--the time has

come!"

With these words, the company dispersed, each seeking his several

position and duty. Let us adjourn our progress to the chamber of

Laudonniere, where that meditative gamester still sits deliberate, with

knotted brow, watching the movements of Marchand.

CHAPTER V.

The game was still unfinished. The repeater of Alphonse D'Erlach was in

his hand, as he entered from his own chamber, and threw a hasty glance

across the chess-board. There Laudonniere sate, seeing nothing but the

pieces before him. He was in the brownest of studies. His thoughts were

wholly with the game, which had the power of contracting his forehead

with a more serious anxiety than possibly all the cares of his colony

had done. His opponent was the very personification of well-satisfied

indifference. He leaned back in his seat, smiling grimly, and with a

wink, now and then, to those who watched and waited upon the movements

of Laudonniere. Alphonse D'Erlach smiled also. The slightest shade of

anxiety might be observed upon his brow, and his lips were more rigidly

compressed than usual. He leaned quietly towards the board, and remarked

indifferently--

"I see you are nearly at the close of your game."

"Indeed!" said Laudonniere, with some sharpness in his accents,--"and

pray Monsieur Alphonse, how do you see that?"

"You will finish by twelve," was the reply. "I see that it now lacks but

a few minutes of that hour."

"Pshaw, Monsieur!" exclaimed Laudonniere--"you talk illogically, you

know nothing about it. Chess is one of those games----"

And he proceeded to expatiate upon the latent resources of the game, and

how a good player might retrieve a bad situation in the last perilous

extremity, by a lucky diversion.

"But there is no such extremity now," he continued to say, "and it is

not improbable that we shall keep up the struggle till morning. The game

cannot finish under an hour, let him do his best, even if he conquers in

the end, which is very far from certain, though I confess he has some

advantages."

"We shall see," was the reply, as Alphonse left the room, and returned

in a few moments after. It was not observed by the parties, so intent

were they on the game, that he now made his appearance in complete

armor, nor did they hear the bustle in the adjoining apartment. Alphonse

still held his watch in his grasp.

"The game is nearly finished. According to my notion, you have but two

minutes for it."

"Two! how!" said Laudonniere, not lifting his head.

"But one!"

"There!" said Laudonniere, making the move that Marchand had

anticipated. Marchand bent forward with extended finger to the white

queen, when a shade of uneasiness might be traced by a nice observer

in the countenance of D'Erlach. His lips were suddenly and closely

compressed. The hand of the timepiece was upon the fatal minute. On a

sudden, a hissing sound was heard, and, in the next instant, the

house reeled and quivered as if torn from its foundation. A deep roar

followed, as if the thunderbolt had just broke at their feet, and the

whole was succeeded by a deafening ringing sound in all their ears.

"Jesus--mercy!" exclaimed Laudonniere--"The magazine!"

"Checkmate!" cried Marchand, as he set down the white queen in the final

position which secured the game.

"Ay! it is checkmate to more games than one! Gentlemen, to arms, and

follow me!" exclaimed Alphonse. "We are safe now!"

CHAPTER VI.

They rushed out, and were immediately joined by the select party from

the chamber of D'Erlach, all armed to the teeth. Another party, under

Bon Pre, of which none knew but the same person, encountered them

when they emerged into the _Place D'Armes_. Alphonse led the way with

confidence, and, while all was uproar and confusion below--while men

were seen scattered throughout the area, uncertain where to turn, the

sharp, stern voice of command was heard in their midst, in tones that

forbade the idea of surprise. The drums rolled. The faithful were soon

brought together, and presented such an orderly and strong array, that

conspiracy would have been confounded by their appearance, even was

there nothing else in the event to palsy their enterprise. But their

engine had exploded in their own house. The dwelling of Laudonniere

was only shaken by the explosion. It was that of Le Genré which was

overthrown, and was now in flames. Its blazing timbers were soon

scattered, and the flames extinguished, when the body of the conspirator

was drawn forth, blackened and mangled, from the place where he had met

his death; still grasping between his fingers the fragment of match with

which he had lighted the train to his own destruction. The conspirators,

in an instant, felt all their feebleness. Already were the trusted

soldiers of Laudonniere approaching them. Baffled in the scheme from

which they had promised themselves so much, and apprehending worse

dangers, they lost all confidence in themselves and one another; and

Le Genré, apprehending everything, seizing the moment of greatest

confusion, leaped the walls of the fortress, and succeeded in escaping

to the woods. The other leading conspirators, Le Genevois, La Fourneaux,

and La Roquette, at first determined not to fly, not yet dreaming that

they were the objects of suspicion; but when they beheld Bon Pre, late

one of their associates, marshalling one of the squads of Laudonniere,

they at once conjectured the mode and the extent of the discovery. They

saw that they had been betrayed, and soon followed the example of Le

Genré. In regard to the inferior persons concerned in the conspiracy,

D'Erlach said nothing to Laudonniere, and counselled Bon Pre to silence

also. He was better pleased that they should wholly escape than that the

colony should lose their services, and easily persuaded himself that

in driving Le Genré and his three associates from the field, he had

effectually paralyzed the spirit of faction within the fortress. He

had made one mistake, however, but for which he might not have been

so easily content. Not anticipating the change in the plan of the

conspirators, by which it had been confided to Villemain to fire the

train instead of Le Genré, he had naturally come to the conclusion that

the only victim was the chief conspirator. He was soon undeceived, and

his chagrin and disappointment were great accordingly.

"Whose carcass is this?" demanded Laudonniere, as they threw out the

mangled remains of the incendiary from the scene of ruin.

"That of your lieutenant, Le Genré," was the answer of D'Erlach, given

without looking at the object.

"Not so!" was the immediate reply of more than one of the persons

present. "This is quite too slight and short a person for Le Genré."

"Who can it be, then?" said D'Erlach, looking closely at the body, which

was torn and blackened almost beyond identification. The face of the

corpse was washed, and with some difficulty it was recognized as that

of Philip Villemain, a thoughtless youth, whom levity rather than evil

nature had thrown into the meshes of conspiracy.

"But what does it all mean, Alphonse?" demanded the bewildered

Laudonniere, not yet recovered from his astonishment and alarm.

"Treason! as I told you!" was the reply. "There lies one of the

traitors--the poor tool of a cunning which escapes. I had looked to

make his principal perish by his own petard. But we must look to this

hereafter. We must stir the woods to-morrow. They will shelter the arch

traitor for a season only. Enough now, captain, that we are safe. Let us

in to our fish. Those trout were of the finest, and I somehow have a

monstrous appetite for supper."

XIII.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

The policy of Laudonniere, influenced by the judgment of Alphonse

D'Erlach suffered the proceedings of the conspiracy to pass without

farther scrutiny. His chief care was to provide against future attempts

of the same character. He had been for some time past engaged, among

other labors, in putting the fortress in the best possible order, and

he now strenuously addressed all his efforts to the completion of this

work. A portion of his force was employed in sawing plank, and getting

out timber; others were engaged in making brick for buildings, at or

near an Indian village called Saravahi, which stood about a league and a

half from the fort, upon an arm of the same river; others were employed

in gathering food, and still other parties in exploring the Indian

settlements for traffic. Le Genré, meanwhile, wrote to Laudonniere, in

repentant language, from the neighboring forests. He had taken shelter

among the red-men,--probably of the tribes of Satouriova, at present the

enemy of the Frenchmen. He admitted that he deserved death, but declared

his sorrow for his crime and entreated mercy. But his professions did

not soothe or deceive his superior. About this time, a vessel with

supplies arrived from France which enabled Laudonniere to send

despatches home, containing a full narrative of the events which had

passed. It was the misfortune of the garrison to have received an

addition by the arrival of this vessel. Six or seven of the most

refractory of the soldiers of the garrison were put on board ship, and

others left in their place with our captain. These proved in the end,

quite as mischievous as those which he had dismissed. They leagued with

the old discontents of the colony. They stole the barks and boats of the

garrison, ran away to sea, and became picaroons, seizing, among others,

upon a Spanish vessel of the Island of Cuba, from which they gathered a

quantity of gold and silver. Laudonniere proceeded to build other boats;

which were seized when finished by the leaders of a new conspiracy,

among whom were La Fourneaux, Stephen le Genevois, and others who were

distinguished in this manner before. They finally seized Laudonniere in

person, and extorted from him a privateer's commission. Then, compelling

him to yield up artillery, guns, and the usual munitions of war,

together with Trenchant, his most faithful pilot, they hurried away to

sea under the command of one of his sergeants, Bertrand Conferrant,

while La Croix became their ensign. Thus was the commandant of La

Caroline stripped of every vessel of whatever sort, his stores

plundered, and his garrison greatly lessened by desertions, while select

detachments of his men, under favorite lieutenants, were engaged in new

explorations among the red-men of the country. Our detailed narrative of

these proceedings will employ the following chapters.

XIV.

THE SEDITION AT LA CAROLINE.--Chap. I.

MOUVEMENT.

There was bustle of no common sort in the fortress of La Caroline. The

breezes of September had purged and relieved of its evil influences the

stagnant atmosphere of summer. The sick of the garrison had crawled

forth beneath the pleasant shadows of the palms, that grew between

the fortress and the river banks, and there were signs of life and

animation in the scene and among its occupants, which testified to the

favorable change which healthier breezes and more encouraging moral

influences, were about to produce among the sluggish inhabitants of our

little colony. There were particular occasions for movement apart from

the cheering aspects of the season. Enterprise was afoot with all its

eagerness and hope. Men were to be seen, in armor, hurrying to and fro,

busy in the work of preparation, while Monsieur Laudonniere himself,

just recovered from a severe illness, conspicuous in the scene, appeared

to have cast aside no small portion of his wonted apathy and inactivity.

He was in the full enjoyment of his authority. He had baffled the

disease which preyed upon him, and had defeated the conspiracy by which

his life and power had been threatened. He was now disposed to think

lightly of the dangers he had passed, though his having passed them, in

safety, had tended greatly to encourage his hope and to stimulate his

adventure. He now stood, in full uniform, at the great gate of the

fortress, reading at intervals from a paper in his grasp, while

extending his orders to his lieutenants. He was evidently preparing to

make considerable use of his authority. It is, perhaps, permitted to a

Gascon to do so, at all seasons, even when he owes his security to

better wits than his own, and has achieved his successes in his own

despite. Our worthy captain of the Huguenot garrison upon the river of

May, was not the less disposed to insist upon his authority, because it

had been saved to him without his own participation. It might have

been difficult, under any circumstances, to persuade him of that, and

certainly, the conviction, even if he had entertained it, would, at this

juncture, have done nothing to dissipate or lessen the confident hope

which prompted his present purposes. The present was no ordinary

occasion. It was as an ally of sovereigns that Laudonniere was

extending his orders. He had, already, on several occasions, permitted

his lieutenants to take part in the warfare between the domestic

chieftains, and he was now preparing to engage in a contest which

threatened to be of more than common magnitude and duration. A warfare

that seldom knew remission had been long waged between the rival

warriors, whose several dominions embraced the western line of the great

Apalachian chain. Already had the Huguenots fought on the side of the

great potentate Olata Utina, commonly called Utina, against another

formidable prince called Potanou. He was now preparing to second with

arms the ambition of Kings Hostaqua and Onathaqua, who were preparing

for the utter annihilation of the power of the formidable Potanou. Of

the two former kings, such had been the account brought to Laudonniere,

that he at first imagined them to be Spaniards. They were described as

going to battle in complete armor, with their breasts, arms and thighs

covered with plates of gold, and with a helmet or headpiece of the same

metal. Their armor defied the arrows of the savages, and proved the

possession of a degree of civilization very far superior to anything

in the experience or customs of the red-men. Subsequently it was

ascertained that they were Indians like the rest, differing from the

rest, however, in this other remarkable trait, that, while all the other

tribes painted their faces red, these warriors of Hostaqua and Onathaqua

employed black only to increase the formidable appearance which they

made in battle. The golden armor used by this people, and the excess

of the precious metals which this habit implied, were sufficient

inducements for our Huguenot leader to attempt his present enterprise.

It had furnished the argument of the conspirators against him, that he

done so little towards the discovery of the precious metals; having

provoked that cupidity, which his necessities alone compelled him to

refuse to gratify. His error, at the present moment was, in employing

other than the discontents of his colony in making the discovery. But of

this hereafter.

Laudonniere had not been wholly neglectful, even while he seemed to

sleep upon his arms, of the reported treasures of the country. He had

sent two of his men, La Roche Ferrière a clever young ensign, and

another, to dwell in the dominions of King Utina, and these two had been

absent all the summer, engaged in rambling about the country. Others,

as we have seen, were sent in other directions. Lieutenant Achille

D'Erlach, the brother of the favorite Alphonse, had been absent in

this way, during all the period when Laudonniere was threatened by

conspiracy; and it was now decreed that, even while his brother

continued absent, Alphonse should depart also. The eagerness of

Laudonniere would admit of no delay. His curiosity had just received

a new impulse from a present which had been sent him by Hostaqua,

consisting of a "Luzerne's skinne full of arrows, a couple of bowes,

foure or five skinnes painted after their manner, and a chaine of silver

weighing about a pounde weight." These came with overtures of friendship

and alliance, which the Huguenot chief did not deem it polite to

disregard. He sent to the savage king, "two whole sutes of apparell,

with certain cutting hookes or hatchets," and prepared to follow up his

gifts, by sending a small detachment of picked soldiers, under Alphonse

D'Erlach, still more thoroughly to fathom the secrets of the country,

but ostensibly to unite with Hostaqua and his ally against the potent

savage Potanou, who was described as a man of boundless treasures, also.

The bearer of these presents from Hostaqua was an inferior chieftain

named Oolenoe. This cunning savage, of whom we shall know more

hereafter, did not fail to perceive that the ruling passion of our

Huguenots was gold. It was only, therefore, to mumble the precious word

in imperfect Gallic--to extend his hand vaguely in the direction of the

Apalachian summits, and cry "gold--gold!" and the adroit orator of the

Lower Cherokees, on behalf of his tribe or nation, readily commanded

the attention of his gluttonous auditors. His arguments and entreaties

proved irresistible, and the present earnestness of Laudonniere, at La

Caroline, was in preparing for this expedition. To conquer Potanou, and

to obtain from Hostaqua the clues to the precious region where the gold

was reputed to grow, with almost a vegetable nature, was the motive for

arming his European warriors. It was also his policy, borrowed from that

of the Spaniards, to set the native tribes upon one another;--a fatal

policy in the end, since they must invariably, having first destroyed

the inferior, turn upon the superior, through the irresistible force of

habit. But, even with the former object, we do not perceive that there

was any necessity to take any undue pains in its attainment. Tribes that

live by hunting only, must unavoidably come into constant collision. No

doubt the natural tendency of the savage might be stimulated and made

more inveterate and active, by European arts; and Laudonniere, however

Huguenot, was too little the Christian to forbear them. With this policy

he proposed to justify himself to those who were averse to the present

enterprise. One of these was his favorite, Alphonse D'Erlach, the youth

to whom he owed his life. This young man, on the present occasion,

approached him where he stood, eager and excited with the business

of draughting the proper officers and men for the present hopeful

expedition. At a little distance, stood the stern old savage, Oolenoe,

grimly looking on with a satisfaction at his heart, which was not

suffered to appear on his immovable features. The artist of the

_statuesque_ might have found in his attitude and appearance, an

admirable model. While his eye caught and noted every look and movement,

and his ear every known and unknown sound and accent, the calm unvarying

expression of his glance and muscles was that of the most perfect and

cool indifference. They only did not sleep. He leaned against a sapling

that stood some twenty paces removed from the entrance of the fort, a

loose cotton tunic about his loins, and his bow and quiver suspended

from his shoulders, in a richly-stained and shell-woven belt, the ground

work of which was cotton also. A knife, the gift of Laudonniere, was the

only other weapon which he bore; but this was one of those very precious

acquisitions which the Indian had already purposed to bury with him.

As Alphonse D'Erlach approached his commander, a close observer might

have seen in the eyes of Oolenoe, an increased brilliancy of expression.

The sentiment which it conveyed was not that of love. It is with quick,

intelligent natures to comprehend, as by an instinct of their own, in

what quarter to find sympathies, and whence their antipathies are to

follow. Oolenoe had soon discovered that D'Erlach was not friendly to

his objects. With this conviction there arose another feeling, that of

contempt, with which the extreme youth, and general effeminacy of

the young man's appearance, had inspired him. He did not _seem_ the

warrior,--and the Indian is not apt to esteem the person of whose

conduct in battle he has doubts. Besides, the costume of D'Erlach was

that of dandyism; and, though the North American savage was no humble

proficient in the arts of the toilet, yet these are never ventured upon

until the reputation of the hunter and warrior have been acquired. Of

the abilities of D'Erlach, in these respects, Oolenoe had no knowledge;

and his doubts, therefore, and disrespects, were the natural result

of his conviction that the youth was suspicious of, and hostile to,

himself. Of these feelings, D'Erlach knew nothing, and perhaps cared as

little. His features, as he drew nigh to Laudonniere, were marked with

more gravity and earnestness than they usually expressed; and, touching

the wrist of his commander, as he approached him, he beckoned him

somewhat farther from his followers:

"It is not too late," said he, "to escape this arrangement."

"And why seek to escape it, Alphonse?" replied the other, with something

like impatience in his tones.

"For the best of reasons. You can have no faith in this savage. If there

be this abundance of gold in the country, why brings he so little. Where

are his proofs? But this is not all. But lately our enemy, jealous of

our presence, and only respectful because of his fears, we can have no

confidence in him, as an ally. He will lead the men whom you give him,

into ambuscade--into remote lands, where provision will be found with

difficulty,--require to be fought for at every step, and where the best

valor in the world, and the best conduct will be unavailing for their

extrication."

"To prevent this danger, Alphonse, you shall have command of the

detachment," said Laudonniere, with a dry accent, and a satirical glance

of the eye.

"I thank you, sir, for this proof of confidence," replied the other, no

ways disquieted, "and shall do my best to avoid or prevent the evils

that I apprehend from it; but----"

"I have every confidence in your ability to do so, Alphonse," said the

other, interrupting him in a tone which still betrayed the annoyance

which he felt from the expostulations of his favorite. The latter

proceeded, after a slight but respectful inclination of the head.

"But there is another consideration of still greater importance. Your

security in La Caroline is still a matter of uncertainty. You know not

the extent of the late conspiracy. You know not who are sound, and who

doubtful, among your men. Le Genré, Fourneaux, Le Genevois, and La

Roquette, are still in the woods. You are weakening yourself, lessening

the resources of the fortress, and may, at any moment----"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Laudonniere, with renewed impatience. "You are only

too suspicious, Alphonse. You make too much of this conspiracy. It does

not seem to me that it was ever so dangerous. At all events, the danger

is over, the ringleaders banished and in the woods, and will rot there,

if the wolves do not devour them. They, at least, shall not be made

wolves of for me."

D'Erlach bowed in silence. His mouth was sealed against all further

expostulation. He saw that it was hopeless--that his captain had got a

fixed idea, and men of few ideas, making one of them a favorite,

are generally as immovable as death. Besides, Alphonse saw that the

obligations which he had so lately conferred upon his commander, in

baffling the conspiracy of Le Genré, by his vigilance, had somewhat

wounded his _amour propre_. It is a misfortune, sometimes, to have been

too useful. The consciousness of a benefit received, is apt to be very

burdensome to the feeble nature. The quick instinct of Alphonse D'Erlach

readily perceived the condition of his captain's heart. A momentary

pause ensued. Lifting his cap, he again addressed him, but with

different suggestions.

"Am I to hope, sir, that you really design to honor me with this

command?"

"Certainly, if you wish it, Alphonse."

"I certainly wish it, sir, if the expedition be resolved on."

"It is resolved on," said Laudonniere, with grave emphasis.

"I shall then feel myself honored with the command."

"Be it yours, lieutenant. In one hour be ready to receive your orders."

"One minute, sir, will suffice for all personal preparation;" and, with

the formal customs of military etiquette, the two officers bowed, as the

younger of them withdrew to his quarters. In one hour, he was on the

march with twenty men, accompanied by Oolenoe and his dusky warriors.

CHAPTER II.--THE OUTLAWS.

The little battalion of Alphonse D'Erlach marched along the edge of

a wood which skirted a pleasantly rising ground--one of those gentle

undulations which serve to relieve the monotonous levels of the lower

regions of Florida. Deep was the umbrage--dense in its depth of green,

and dark in its voluminous foliage, the thicket which overlooked their

march. Their eyes might not penetrate the enclosure, from which eyes of

hate were yet looking forth upon them. The wood concealed the outlaws

who had lately made their escape from La Caroline, after the exposure

of their conspiracy. They had not ceased to be conspirators. Bold, bad

men--sleepless discontents, yearning for plunder and power--the defeat

of their schemes, and the necessity of their sudden flight from the

scene of their operations, had not lessened the bitterness of their

feelings, nor their propensity to evil. Fierce were the glances which

they shot forth upon the small troop which D'Erlach conducted before

their eyes on his purposes of doubtful policy. Little did he dream what

eyes were looking upon him. Could they have blasted with a glance or

curse, he had been transformed with all his followers where he passed.

But the three conspirators had no power for more than curses. These,

though "not loud, were deep." With clenched fists extended towards him

on his progress, they devoted him to the wrath of a power which they

did not themselves possess; and, watching his course through the parted

foliage, until he was fairly out of sight, they delivered themselves, in

muttered execrations, of the hate with which his very sight had inspired

them. Stephen Le Genevois was the first to speak. He was a stalwart

savage, of broad chest, black beard, and most dauntless expression.

"Death of my soul!" was his exclamation; "but that we have lost so much

by the game, it were almost merry to laugh at the way in which that brat

of a boy has outwitted us. We have been children in his hands."

"He is now in ours," said La Roquette, gloomily.

"Aye, if the Indian keeps his faith," was the desponding comment of

Fourneaux.

"And why should he not keep faith," said Le Genevois. "He has good

reason for it. When did the hope of plunder fail to secure the savage?"

"You must give him blood with it," responded Fourneaux.

"Aye, it must be seasoned. He must have blood," echoed La Roquette.

"Well, and why not? Do we not give him blood? will he not have this imp

of Satan in his power? may he not feed on him if he will? Aye, and upon

all his twenty!" exclaimed Le Genevois, fiercely.

"True--but----"

"But, but, but--ever with your buts! You lack confidence, courage,

heart, Fourneaux--you despair too easily! I wonder how you ever became

a conspirator!"

"I sometimes wonder myself. Ask La Roquette, there. He can tell you. I

owe it all to his magic."

"What says your magic now, Roquette--have you any signs for us?"

"Aye, good ones! We shall have what we desire. I have seen--I have said!

Be satisfied." This was spoken with due solemnity by the person in whom

the credulity of his companions had found sources of power unknown to

their experience.

"But why not show us what you have seen? Speak plainly, man. Out with

it, and leave that mysterious shaking of the head, which has really

nothing in it."

Such was the language of the more manly and impetuous Le Genevois. It

provoked only a fierce glance from the magician.

"All in good time," said the latter. "Be patient. We shall soon hear

from Oolenoe."

"Good! and you have seen that we shall be successful?" demanded

Fourneaux.

"We shall be successful."

"That will depend upon ourselves, rather than upon your visions, I'm

thinking," said Le Genevois. "We must have courage, my friends. The

signs are not good when we call for signs. If we despond, we are

undone."

"Stay--hark!" said Fourneaux, interrupting him eagerly. "I hear sounds."

"The wind only."

"No!--hist."

They bent forward in the attitude of listeners, but heard nothing. They

had begun again to speak, when an Indian, covered with leaves artfully

glued upon his person, stood suddenly among them. They started to their

feet and grasped their weapons.

"_Ami!_" was the single word of the intruder, at he stretched out his

arms in signification of friendship.

"Said I not?" demanded the magician, confidently. "This is our man."

His assurance was confirmed by the savage, who spoke the French

sufficiently to make himself understood. He came from Oolenoe, and a few

sentences sufficed to place both parties in possession of their mutual

plans. The outlaws were not without friends in La Caroline. They were to

find their way once more into that fortress. They had no fears from the

sagacity of Laudonniere, during the absence of the youthful but vigilant

D'Erlach; and, for the latter, he was to be disposed of by Oolenoe. And

now the question arose, who should venture to "bell the cat?" who should

venture himself within the walls of La Caroline?

"Ah!" said one of the conspirators, "if we could only bring Le Genré to

his senses. He would be the man."

"Speak nothing of him," cried Le Genevois, quickly; "he is no longer a

man. He is a priest. That defeat has killed his courage. He repents, and

is constantly writing to Laudonniere for mercy and pity, and all that

sort of thing. He must not know what we design."

"Who has seen him lately?"

"I know not. He was crossed to the other side of the river by Captain

Bourdet in his boats. He crossed to seek refuge with the people of

Mollova."

"He is not far, be sure. He will linger close to the fort, in the hope

to get back to it, and, finally, to France. He is not to be thought of

in this expedition."

"Who then?" was the demand of Le Genevois. "Somebody must muzzle the

cannon. Who? Who will take the peril and the glory of the enterprise,

and in the character of an Indian will put his head in the jaws of the

danger?"

The question remained unanswered. Fourneaux excused himself on a variety

of pleas, not one of which would be satisfactory with a brave man. La

Roquette declared that his magical powers were always valueless when

any restraint was set upon his person; in other words, he could better

perform his incantations when the danger threatened everybody but

himself. He certainly would not think of risking them within La

Caroline, while Laudonniere was in power. Besides "he had no arts of

imitation. He had no abilities as an actor." Stephen Le Genevois smiled

as he listened to their pleas and excuses.

"My friends!" he exclaimed. "Did you think that I would suffer a good

scheme to be spoiled by such as you? I but waited that you should

speak. This adventure is mine, and I claim it. I will return to La

Caroline. I will play the spy, and take the danger. Mark ye, now,

comrade!"--addressing the Indian,--"prepare me for the business. Clothe

me in copper, and make me what you please. I have no beauty that you

need fear to spoil."

Thus saying, he threw off, with an air of scornful recklessness, the

costume which he wore. Wild was the toilet, and wilder still the guise

of our buoyant Frenchman. In an open space within the thicket, beneath

a great moss-covered oak, which wore the beard of three centuries upon

his breast, the chief conspirator yielded himself to the hands of the

Indian. A keen knife shore from his head the thick black hair with which

it was covered. A thin ridge alone was suffered to remain upon the

coronal region, significant of the war-lock of that tribe of Apalachia,

to which Oolenoe belonged. The small golden droplets which hung from the

Frenchman's ears, were made to give way to a more massive ornament of

shells, cunningly strung upon a hoop of copper wire. His body, stripped

to the buff, was then stained with the brown juices of a native plant,

which, with other dye-stuffs, the Indian produced from his wallet. His

brow was then dyed with deeper hues of red--his cheeks tinged with spots

of the darkest crimson, while a heavy circlet of black, about his eyes,

gave to his countenance the aspect of a demon rather than that of a man.

This done, the savage displayed a small pocket mirror before the eyes

of the metamorphosed outlaw. With an oath of no measured emphasis, the

Frenchman bounded to his feet, his eyes flashing with a strange delight.

"It will do!" he shouted. "It likes me well! Were I now in France, there

would be no wonder beside myself. I should stir the envy of the men--I

should win the hearts of the women. I should be the loveliest monster.

Ho! Ho! Would that my voice would suit my visage!"

A cotton tunic with which the Indian had provided himself, was wrapped

round the loins of our new-made savage, his feet were cased with

moccasins, and his legs with leggins made of deerskin--a bow and quiver

at his shoulder--a knife in his girdle--a string of peäg or shells about

his neck;--and his toilet was complete. That very night, accompanied

by his Indian comrade, Stephen Le Genevois entered the walls of La

Caroline, bearing messages from Oolenoe and Alphonse D'Erlach--the

latter of which, we need scarcely say, were wholly fraudulent. The

credulous Laudonniere, delighted with assurances of success on the part

of his lieutenant, was not particularly heedful of the nature of the

evidence thus afforded him, and laid his head on an easy pillow, around

which danger hovered in almost visible forms, while he, unconsciously,

dreamed only of golden conquests, and discoveries which were equally

to result in fame and fortune. His guardian angel was withdrawn.

His mortified vanity had driven from his side the only person whose

vigilance might have saved him. His own unregulated will had yielded

him, bound, hand and foot, into the power of a relentless enemy.

CHAPTER III.--THE MIDNIGHT ARREST.

Sweet were the slumbers of Monsieur Laudonniere, commandant of the

fortress of La Caroline. Anxious was the wakening of Stephen Le

Genevois, the conspirator, who, in garbing himself after the fashion of

the Indian, had not succeeded in clothing his mind in the stolid and

stoic nature of his savage companion. The conspirators watched together

in one of the inner chambers of the fortress. They had not restricted

themselves to watching merely. Already had Le Genevois made his purpose

known to one of his ancient comrades. The name of this person was

La Croix. He was one of the trusted followers of Laudonniere, whose

superior cunning alone had saved him from suspicion, even that of

D'Erlach, at the detection of the former conspiracy. La Croix, in the

absence of the latter, was prepared for more decisive measures. He was

one of those whose insane craving for gold had surrendered him, against

all good policy, to the purposes of the conspirators. He was now

in charge of the watch. As captain of the night, he led the way to

the gates, which, at midnight, he cautiously threw open to the two

companions of Le Genevois. Fourneaux and Roquette had been waiting for

this moment. They were admitted promptly and in silence. Darkness was

around them. The fortress slept,--none more soundly than its commander.

In silence the outlaws led by La Croix, all armed to the teeth, made

their way to his chamber. The sentinel who watched before it, joined

himself to their number. They entered without obstruction and without

noise; and, ere the eyes of the sleeper could unclose to his danger, or

his lips cry aloud for succor, his voice was stifled in his throat by

thick bandagings of silk, and his limbs fastened with cords which, at

every movement of his writhing frame, cut into the springing flesh. He

was a prisoner in the very fortress, where, but that day, he exulted in

the consciousness of complete command. A light, held above his eyes,

revealed to him the persons of his assailants;--the supposed Indians, in

the outlaws whom he had banished, and others, whom, for the first time,

he knew as enemies. When his eyes were suffered to take in the aspects

of the whole group, he was addressed, in his own tongue, by the leading

conspirator.

"René Laudonniere," said Stephen Le Genevois, in his bitter tones, "you

are in our power. What prevents that we put you to death as you merit,

and thus revenge our disgrace and banishment?"

The wretched man, thus addressed, had no power to answer. The big tears

gathered in his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks. He felt the

pang of utter feebleness upon him.

"We will take the gag from your jaws, if you promise to make no outcry.

Nod your head in token that you promise."

The prisoner had no alternative but to submit. He nodded, and the

kerchief was taken from his jaws.

"You know us, René Laudonniere?" demanded the conspirator.

"Stephen Le Genevois, I know you!" was the answer.

"'Tis well! You see to what you have reduced me. You have held a trial

upon me in my absence. You have sentenced me and my companions to

banishment. You have made us outlaws, and we are here! You see around

you none but those on whom you have exercised your tyranny. What hope

have you at their hands and mine? Savage as you have made me in aspect,

what should prevent that I show myself equally savage in performance.

The knife is at your throat, and there is not one of us who is not

willing to execute justice upon you. Are you prepared to do what we

demand?"

"What is it?"

"Read this paper."

A light was held close to the eyes of the prisoner, and the paper placed

near enough for perusal. The instrument was a commission of piracy--a

sort of half-legal authority, common enough in that day, to the marine

of all European countries, under maxims of morality such as made the

deeds of Drake, and Hawkins, and other British admirals, worthy of

all honor, which, in our less chivalric era, would consign them very

generally to the gallows.

As Laudonniere perused the document, he strove to raise himself, as

with a strong movement of aversion;--but the prompt grasp of Genevois

fastened him down to the pillow.

"No movement, or this!"--showing the dagger. "Have you read?"

"I will not sign that paper!" said the prisoner, hoarsely.

"Will you not?"

"Never!"

"You have heard the alternative!"

Laudonniere was silent.

"You do not speak! Beware, René Laudonniere. We have no tender mercies!

We are no children! We are ready for any crime. We have already incurred

the worst penalties, and have nothing to fear. But you can serve us,

living, quite as effectually as if dead. We do not want your miserable

fortress. We are not for founding colonies. It is your ships that we

will take, and your commission. We will spare your life for these.

Beware! Let your answer square with your necessities."

"Genevois!" said the prisoner, "even this shall be pardoned--you shall

all be pardoned--if you will forego your present purpose."

"Pshaw!" exclaimed the person addressed. "This to me! I scorn your

pardon as I do your person! Speak to what concerns you, and what is left

for you to do. Speak, and quickly, too, for the dawn must not find us

here."

"I will not sign!" said the prisoner, doggedly.

"Then you die!" and the dagger was uplifted.

"Strike--why do you stop?" exclaimed Fourneaux; "we can slay him, and

forge the paper."

His threatening looks and attitude, with the stern air which overspread

the visage of Genevois, and, indeed, of all around him contributed to

overcome the resolution of the wretched commander. Besides, a moment's

reflection served to satisfy him, that the conspirators, having gone

too far to recede, would not scruple at the further crime which they

threatened.

"Will my life be spared if I sign? Have I _your_ oath, Stephen Le

Genevois? I trust none other."

"By G--d and the Blessed Saviour! as I hope to be saved, René

Laudonniere, you shall have your life and freedom!"

"Undo my hands and give me the paper."

"The right hand only," said Fourneaux, with his accustomed timidity.

"Pshaw, unbind him!" exclaimed Genevois; "unbind him, wholly. There,

René Laudonniere, you are free!"

"I cannot forgive you, Genevois; you have disgraced me forever," said

the miserable man, as he dashed his signature upon the paper.

"You will survive it, _mon ami_," replied the other, with something like

contempt upon his features. "You are not the man to fret yourself into

fever, because of your hurts of honor. And now must you go with us to

the ships. We will muffle your jaws once more."

"You will not carry me with you," demanded the commander, with something

like trepidation in his accents.

"No! You were but an incumbrance. We will only take you to the ships,

and keep you safe until we are ready to cast off. To your feet, men, and

get your weapons ready. Softly, softly--we need rouse no other sleepers.

Onward,--the night goes!--away!"

XV.

THE MUTINEERS AT SEA.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

For fifteen days was Laudonniere kept a close prisoner by the

conspirators on board of one of his own vessels, attended by one of

their own number, and denied all intercourse with his friends and

people. One of the objects of this rigid _duresse_, was the coercion of

the garrison. With its captain in their power, even were his followers

better prepared, with the proper spirit and energy, to give them

annoyance, they were thus able to put them at defiance; since any show

of hostility on the part of the garrison might be visited upon the head

of their prisoner. By this means they got possession of the armory, the

magazines, the granaries; and, when ready to put to sea, and not before,

did they release the unhappy commandant from his degrading durance.

It was at dawn on the morning of the 8th of December, that the two

barks which the conspirators had prepared for sea, might have been

seen dropping down the waters of May River, their white sails gleaming

through the distant foliage. At the same moment, with head bowed upon

his bosom, the unhappy Laudonniere, for the first time fully conscious

of his weakness and his misfortune,--deeply sensible now to all his

shame as he reflected upon the roving commission which had been extorted

from him by the mutineers,--turned his footsteps from the banks of the

river, and made his way slowly towards the fortress;--confident no

longer in his strength--suspicious of the faith of all around him--and

half tempted to sink his shame forever, with his dishonored person,

in the waters of the river which had witnessed his disgrace. But he

gathered courage to live when he thought of the revenge which fortune

might yet proffer to his embrace.

We must now follow the progress of our maritime adventurers. They had,

as we have seen, succeeded in fitting out two barks; one on which was

confided to Bertrand Conferrant, one of Laudonniere's sergeants; the

other to a soldier named D'Orange. La Croix was named the ensign to the

former; Trenchant, the pilot of Laudonniere, was compelled, against

his will, to assume this station on board the vessel of D'Orange. The

original plan of the rovers was to pursue a common route, and mutually

to support each other: but the plans of those who have given themselves

up to excess, are always marked by caprices, and the two parties

quarrelled before they had left the mouth of the river. They had

arranged to descend together upon one of the Spanish islands of the

Antilles, and on Christmas night, while the inhabitants were assembled

at the midnight mass, at their church, to set upon and murder the

inmates and sack the building and the town. Their dissentions affected

this purpose; and when they emerged from the river May, they parted

company;--one of the vessels keeping along the coast, in order the more

easily to double the cape and make for Cuba;--the other boldly standing

out to sea and making for the Lucayos. Both vessels proceeded with

criminal celerity to the performance of those acts of piracy which had

seduced them from their duties. The bark which took her way along the

coast, was that of D'Orange. Near a place called Archaha, he took a

brigantine laden with _cassavi_, the Indian breadstuff, and a small

quantity of wine. Two men were slain, two taken in a sharp encounter

with the people of Archaha. Transferring themselves and stores to the

brigantine which they had captured, on account of its superiority, the

pirates made sail for the cape of Santa Maria; and from thence, after

repairing a leak in their vessel, to Baracou, a village of the island of

Jamaica. Here they found an empty caravel which they preferred to their

brigantine; and after a frolic among the people of Baracou, which lasted

five days, they made a second transfer of their persons and material to

the caravel. Dividing their force between their own and this vessel,

which was of fifty or sixty tons burthen, they made for the Cape of

Tiburon, where they met with a _patach_, to which chase was immediately

given. A sharp encounter followed. The _patach_ was well manned and

provided, for her size. She had particular reasons for giving battle

and for fighting bravely. Her cargo was very precious. It consisted of

a large supply of gold and silver plate and bullion, merchandise, wines,

provisions, and much besides to tempt the rovers, and quite as much to

move the crew to a vigorous defence. But, over all, it had a-board the

Governor of Jamaica himself, with two of his sons. This nobleman was

equally fearless and skilful. He directed the resistance of his people,

and gave them efficient example. But the force of our rovers was quite

too great to be successfully resisted by one so small as that of the

Governor, and he directed his people to yield the combat, as soon as he

saw its hopelessness.

Greatly, indeed, were our free companions delighted with their

successes. The treasure they had acquired was large, but they were not

the persons to be content with it. They were apprised of another caravel

laden with greater wealth and a more valuable merchandise, and they

followed eagerly after this prey. But she escaped them, getting in

safety into the port of Jamaica. The governor was a subtle politician.

He soon discovered the character of the men with whom he had to deal,

and he wrought successfully upon their cupidity. He proposed to ransom

himself at an enormous price; and, with this object, they stood towards

the mouth of the harbor in which the caravel had taken shelter. Blinded

by their avarice, our rovers were persuaded to suffer the governor to

despatch his two boys to their mother, his wife, in a boat which his

captors were to furnish. The boys were to procure his ransom, and

supplies were to be sent to the vessel also. But the secret counsel

of the Governor to his sons, contemplated no such ransom as the free

companions desired. They knew not that, in one of the contiguous havens,

there lay two or more vessels, superior in burthen to their own, and

manned and equipped for war. The Governor, with but a look and a word,

beheld his sons depart. The lads knew the meaning of that look, and that

single word; they felt all the ignominy of their father's position, and

they knew their duty. A noble and courageous dame was the mother of

those boys. With tears and tremors did she clasp her children to her

breast; with horror did she hear of her lord's captivity; but she

yielded to no feminine weaknesses which could retard her in the

performance of her duty. Her movements were prompt and resolute. The

Governor concealed his anxieties, and spoke fairly to his captors.

Quite secure in their strength and position, eager with expectations

of further gain, rioting in the rich wines they had already won, they

entertained no apprehensions of defeat or disappointment. They lay at

the mouth of the haven, which stretched away for two leagues into the

mainland. Here, suddenly, about the break of day, they saw emerging

through a heavy fog, a couple of vessels of greater size than their own.

Apprehending no danger, the pirates were taken by surprise. The enemy

was upon them before they could prepare for action, and they had

scarcely an opportunity to attempt their flight. A volley of Spanish

shot soon rang against their sides, and as the trumpets of D'Orange,

from his brigantine, blew to announce their danger to those in charge of

the captured vessels, he cut his cables and stood off for sea, closely

pressed by his swift-footed enemies. Then it was that, watching his

moment, the Governor of Jamaica seized upon the enemy nearest him and

plunged him into the sea. His example was followed by his people, and

the Spaniards coming up with the captured _patach_ at the fortunate

moment, the Frenchmen, with whom it was left in charge, threw down

their arms, and yielded themselves at discretion to their enemies. Both

vessels were recovered, while the brigantine of D'Orange, well navigated

by Trenchant, succeeded in showing a clean pair of heels to her

pursuers. The chase continued for several leagues without success; and

the brigantine, passing Cape des Aigrettes, and the Cape of St. Anthony,

swept on to the Havanna. This was the desired destination of D'Orange;

but his people were not wholly with him. Several of them, like

Trenchant, the pilot, had been forced to accompany the expedition. These

were anxious to escape from a connection which was not only against

their desires, but was likely, by the crimes of their superiors, to

result in the destruction of the innocent. Accordingly, under the

guidance of Trenchant, a conspiracy was conceived against the

conspirators. The wind serving, while D'Orange slept, Trenchant passed

the channel of the Bahamas, and made over for the settlement on May

River. The route taken was unsuspected, until the morning of the 25th

of March, when they found themselves upon the coast of Florida. By this

time, it was too late to prevent the determination of those who had

resolved upon their return to La Caroline. The latter had grown strong

by consultation together, and the true men urged the less guilty of the

conspirators with promises of pardon at the hands of Laudonniere. This

hope gradually extended to some of the most guilty; but the discussion

which led to this conclusion, was productive of a scene which strikingly

illustrates the profligacy of the human heart, particularly when it once

throws off the restraints of social authority. The unhappy criminals, in

nominal command of the roving brigantine were prepared to dance upon the

brink of the precipice,--to sport with the dangers immediately before

them, and convert into a farce the very tragedy whose denouêment they

had every reason to dread. Well charged with wine, and quaffing full

beakers to fortune, they suddenly conceived the idea of a mock court

of justice, for the trial of their own offences. The idea was scarcely

suggested than it was fastened upon by the wanton imaginations of this

besotted crew. The court was convened, on the deck of the vessel, as

it would have been at La Caroline. One of the parties personated the

character of the judge: another counterfeited the costume and manner

of Laudonniere, and appeared as the accuser. Counsel was heard on both

sides. There were officers to wait upon and obey the decrees of the

court. The cases were elaborately argued. Heavy accusations were made;

ingenious pleas put in; and in the very excess of their recklessness,

their ingenuity became triumphant. They showed themselves excellent

actors, if not excellent men; and caught from their own art, a momentary

respite from the oppressive doubts which hung upon their destinies. It

was somewhat ominous, however, that their judge--himself one of the most

guilty--should say to them, when summing up for judgment--"Make your

case as clear as you please--exert your ingenuity as you may, in finding

excuses, yet, take my word for it, that, when you reach La Caroline, if

Laudonniere causes you not to swing for it, then I will never take him

for an honest man again."

This may have been intended as a mere jocularity. But fate frequently

shapes our own words, as she does those of the oracle, in that double

sense, which confounds the judgment while it ensures the doom. The

counterfeit judge spoke prophetically. It was only when the offenders

were fairly in the hands of Laudonniere, beyond escape or remedy, that

they were taught to apprehend that they had too greatly exaggerated

their sense of his mercy. He detached immediately from the rest four of

the leading criminals, who were put in fetters. That was the judgment

that prefigured their doom. They were sentenced to be hanged. They

strove to question this judgment. The pleasant jest which they had

enjoyed on ship-board was quite too recent, to suffer them to forego the

hope that this summary decision upon their fate would turn out a jest

also. But when they could doubt no longer, three of them took to their

prayers with an appearance of much real contrition. The fourth,--a

sturdy villain,--still had his faith in human agency. He appealed for

protection to his friends and comrades.

"What," said he, "brethren and companions, will you suffer us to die so

shamefully?"

"These are none of your companions," said Laudonniere;--"they are no

authors of seditions--no rebels unto the king's service. Ye appeal to

them in vain."

A corps of thirty soldiers with their matchlocks ready, and under

the command of Alphonse D'Erlach, who had returned from his Indian

expedition, and who now stood ready and prompt to execute the orders of

the chief, were, perhaps, more potent in silencing the appeal of the

mutineer, and quieting the active sympathies of those to whom he prayed,

than all the words of Laudonniere. But, at the entreaty of his people,

the form of punishment was changed, and the criminals, instead of

perishing by the rope, met their death from the matchlock. Among

the victims of this necessary justice, were three of the original

conspirators, and the ringleader, Stephen le Genevois. Thus ends the

history of one of our roving vessels. The other, commanded by Bertrand

Conferrent, which we parted with, on her progress towards the Lucayos,

was never heard of after, and probably perished in the deeps, with all

her besotted crew. Let us now leave the ocean, and follow, for a

season, the progress of Alphonse D'Erlach upon the land, and into the

territories of Paracoussi Hostaqua.

XVI.

THE ADVENTURE OF D'ERLACH.

It was in sullen and half resentful mood that Alphonse D'Erlach parted

from his superior at the gates of _La Caroline_. Not that he felt any

chagrin because of an outraged self-esteem, on account of his rejected

counsels. His mortification and annoyance arose from his vexation at

leaving a man in the hands of his enemies, whom he could not persuade of

his danger, and who was, by this very proceeding, depriving himself of

the only means with which he may have safely combated their hostility.

It was probably with a justifiable sense of his own efficiency, that

D'Erlach felt how necessary was his presence in the garrison at this

juncture. He was quite familiar with the vanity of Laudonniere, his

several weaknesses of character, and the facility with which he might

be deluded by the selfish and the artful. But he had counselled him in

vain; and it was with a feeling somewhat allied to scorn, that he was

taught to see that his superior, having hitherto regarded him with

something more than friendship--as a favorite indeed--had now, in

consequence of the most important services, begun to look upon him

somewhat in the light of a rival. We have witnessed the last interview

between them. We are already in possession of the events which followed

the absence of the lieutenant; events which positively would not have

taken place, had not the scheme proved successful for procuring his

absence from the fortress. Laudonniere's conscience smote him with a

sense of his ingratitude, as the flowing plumes of D'Erlach disappeared

amidst the distant umbrage; but he had no misgivings of that danger

which the prescient thought of his lieutenant had described as already

threatening. He had sufficient time allowed him to meditate equally upon

his own blindness and the foresight of the youth, while his mutineers,

for fifteen days kept him a close prisoner on board his own brigantine!

During this period, his young lieutenant, with his twenty Frenchmen,

was making his way from forest to forest, under the somewhat capricious

guidance of the subtle savage, Oolenoe. D'Erlach was more than once

dissatisfied with this progress. He found himself frequently doubling,

as it were, upon his own ground; not steadily ascending the country

in the supposed direction of the Apatahhian Mountains, but rather

inclining to the southwest, and scarcely seeming to leave those lower

_steppes_ which belonged wholly to the province of the sea. Without

absolutely suspecting his dusky guide, D'Erlach was eminently watchful

of him, and frequently pressed his inquiries in regard to the route they

were pursuing,--when--noting the course of the sun, he found himself

still turning away from those distant mountain summits which were said

to await them in the north, with all their world of treasure. The plea

of Oolenoe, while acknowledging a temporary departure from the proper

path, alleged the difficulties of the country, the spread of extensive

morasses, or the presence of nations of hostile Indians, which cut off

all direct communication with the province which they sought.

To all this D'Erlach had nothing to oppose. The pretences seemed

sufficiently specious, and he continued to advance deep and deeper into

the internal intricacies of the unbroken wild, making a progress, day

by day, into regions which the European had never penetrated before. On

this progress, each soldier had been provided with a certain allowance

of food of a portable nature, which was calculated to last many days.

The adoption of the Indian customs, in several respects, had made it

easy to provide. The maize and beans of the country constituted the

chief supply. The former, and sometimes both, crushed or ground,

separately or together, and browned slightly before the fire, furnished

a wholesome and literally palatable provision for such a journey. They

were also to receive supplies from the contributions of Indian tribes

through whose settlements they were to pass, and to traffic with other

nations whom as yet they did not know. With this latter object the party

was provided with a small stock of European trifles--knives, reaphooks,

small mirrors, and things of this description.

Thus provided, they pressed forward for several days, on a journey which

brought them no nearer to the province which they sought. Still the

country through which they travelled was unbroken by a mountain. Gentle

eminences saluted their eyes, and they sometimes toiled over hills

which, even their exhaustion, which rendered irksome the ascent, did

not venture to compare with those mighty ranges, scaling the clouds,

of which the swelling narratives of the savage chiefs, and their own

adventurers, had given such extravagant ideas. In this march they

probably reached the Savannah, and crossed its waters to the rivers

of Carolina. The scenery improved in loveliness, and to those who are

accessible to the influences of mere external beauty, the progress at

every step was productive of its own charm. Gentle valleys spread away

before them in the embrace of guardian ranges of hill, and clear streams

gushed out through banks that seemed to gladden in perpetual green.

Enormous trees spread over them a grateful cover from the sun, and

luscious berries of the wood, and unknown fruits, green and purple, were

to be found lying in their path, which was everywhere traversed by the

trailing vines which produced them. Birds of unknown plumage, and of

wild and startling song, darted out from the brake to cheer them as they

passed; and as they reached the steeps of sudden hills, they could catch

glimpses of herds of sleek deer, that sped away with arrowy fleetness

from the green valleys where they browsed, to the cover of umbrageous

thickets where they lodged in safety.

The mind of the soldier, however, particularly the adventurer whom one

passionate thirst alone impels, is scarcely ever sensible to the charms

and attractions of the visible nature. Where they appeal simply to his

sense of the beautiful, they are but wasted treasures, like gems that

pave the great bed of ocean, and have no value to the finny tribes that

glide below--each seeking the selfish object which marks his nature. The

passion for the beautiful, with but few exceptions, is a passion that

belongs to training and education; and even these seldom suffice, in the

presence of more morbid desires, to wean the attention to the things

of taste, unless these are recognized as accessories of the object

of a more intense appetite. Even Alphonse D'Erlach, the _éleve_ of a

superior class--one who had been benefitted by society and the schools,

appreciated but imperfectly the loveliness of the landscape, and

the fresh luxuriance of a vegetable life in a region that seemed so

immediately from the hands of its Creator. His thoughts were of another

nature. His anxieties were elsewhere. His eye was fixed upon his Indian

guide, of whom his doubts had now become suspicions. Nightly had Oolenoe

disappeared from the encampment. It was in vain that our lieutenant set

spies upon his movements. He would disappear without giving the alarm,

and re-appear, when least expected, before the dawning. D'Erlach's

vigilance was increased. He did not suffer his men to straggle; marching

with care by day, his watches were equally divided by night, and his own

eyes were kept open by intense anxiety, through hours when most were

sleeping. Occasionally, glimpses of Indians were caught on distant

hills, or on the edge of suddenly glancing waters. But any attempt to

approach sent them into their canoes, or over the hill side--increasing

the suspicions of D'Erlach, and awakening the apprehensions of his men.

A something of insolence in the tone and manner of Oolenoe led our young

lieutenant to suppose that the moment of trial was at hand; and he

already began to meditate the seizure of his guide, as a security

for the conduct of the Indians, when an incident occurred which the

foresight of our lieutenant, great as it was, had never led him to

anticipate.

It was at the close of a lovely evening in September, when the little

detachment of Frenchmen were rounding a ravine. Oolenoe was advanced

with D'Erlach some few paces before the rest. Both of them were silent;

but they pressed forward stoutly, through a simple forest trail, over

which the Frenchmen followed in Indian file. Suddenly, their march was

arrested by a cry from the foot of the ravine, in the rear of the party,

and along the path which they had recently traversed. The cry was human.

It was that of a voice very familiar to the ears of the party. It was

evidently meant to compel attention and arrest their progress. At

the instant, D'Erlach wheeled about and made for the rear. A similar

movement changed in like manner the faces of his followers; and, in a

moment after, a strange, but human form darted out of the forest and

made towards them.

The appearance of the stranger was wild beyond description. He had

evidently once been white; but his face, hands, breast, and legs, for

these were all uncovered, had been blackened by smoke, bronzed by the

sun, and so affected by the weather, that it was with the greatest

difficulty that his true complexion was discernible. But sure instincts

and certain features soon enabled our Huguenots to see that he was

a brother Frenchman. Of his original garments, nothing but tatters

remained; but these tatters sufficed to declare his nation. His beard

and hair, both black, long, and massive, were matted together, and hung

upon neck and shoulders in flakes and bunches, rather than in shreds

or tresses. His head was without covering, and the only weapon which

he carried was a _couteau de chasse_, which, as it was of peculiar

dimensions, silver-hilted, and altogether of curious shape, was probably

the only means by which the Frenchmen identified the stranger.

The keen, quick eye of Alphonse D'Erlach seemed first, of the whites, to

have discovered him. It is probable, from what took place at the moment,

that Oolenoe had made him out in the same moment. The stranger was

no other than Le Genré--the banished man who had headed the first

conspiracy against Laudonniere. As he approached, rushing wildly

forward, with his _couteau de chasse_ grasped firmly in uplifted hand,

D'Erlach raised his sword, prepared to cut him down as he drew nigh;

when the words of his voice, shouted at the utmost of his strength,

caused them to cast their eyes in another direction.

"Seize upon Oolenoe. Suffer him not to escape you."

At that moment, the keen, quick glance of the lieutenant beheld the

rapid bounds of the savage, as he made for the cover of the neighboring

thicket. His orders were instantly given. A dozen bodies instantly

sprang forward in pursuit--a dozen matchlocks were lifted in deadly aim,

but the lithe savage doubling like a hare, bounding forward, now squat,

and seeming to fly along the surface of the ground like a lapwing,

stealthy in every movement as a cat, as swift and agile,--succeeded in

gaining the woods, though the carbines rang with their volley, and,

throwing down their weapons, a score of the light-limbed Frenchmen

started in the chase. A wild warwhoop followed the discharge of the

pieces, declaring equally the defiance and disdain of the savage. The

pursuit was idle, as a few seconds enabled him to find shelter in a

morass, which the inexperienced Europeans knew not how to penetrate.

Alphonse D'Erlach recalled his men from pursuit, fearing lest they

might fall into an ambush, in which, wasting their ammunition against

invisible enemies, they would only incur the risk of total destruction.

He prepared to confront the stranger, whose first appearance had been

productive of such a startling occurrence. Le Genré, meanwhile, had

paused in his progress. He no longer rushed forward like a maniac; but

satisfied with having given the impulse to the pursuit of Oolenoe, and

apparently conscious of how much was startling in his appearance, he now

stood beside a pine which overhung the path, one hand resting against

the mighty shaft, as if from fatigue, while from the other his _couteau

de chasse_ now drooped, its sharp extremity pointing to the ground.

His appearance thus indicated a pacific disposition; but remembering his

ancient treacheries only, and suspicious of his relations with Oolenoe,

D'Erlach approached him with caution, as if to the encounter with an

enemy. As he drew nigh, followed by his band, Le Genré addressed them

with mournful accents.

"Is there no faith for me hereafter, _mes amis_? Am I forever cut off

from the communion with my comrades? Shall there be no fellowship

between us, D'Erlach? Shall we not forget the past--shall I not be

forgiven for my crime, even when I repent it in bitterness and bloody

tears. Behold, my brother--I proffer you the last assurance."

These words were accompanied by a sign, that of the mystic

brotherhood--the ancient masons--which none but a few of the party

beheld or comprehended. The weapon of Alphonse D'Erlach was dropped

instantly, and his hand extended. He, too, belonged to the ancient

order, and the security which was guaranteed by the exhibition of its

token, on the part of the offender, served, when all other pleas would

have failed, to secure him sympathy and protection.

"I have sinned, Alphonse--I know it--beyond forgiveness--sinned like a

madman; but I have borne the penalty. Seldom has human sinner suffered

from mental penalty, as I from mine. Behold me! look I longer human? I

have taken up my covert with the wild beasts of the desert, and they fly

from my presence as from a savage more fearful than any they know. In

my own desperation I have had no fears. I have herded with beast and

reptile, and longed for their hostility. I have lived through all,

though I craved not to live, and the food which would have choked or

poisoned the man not an outcast from communion with his fellows, has

kept me strong, with a cruel vitality that has increased by suffering.

The crude berries of the wood, the indigestible roots of the earth, I

have devoured with a hideous craving; and, in the griefs and privations

of my body, my mind has been purged of its impurities. I have seen my

sin in its true colors--my folly, my vicious passions, the wretch that I

was--the miserable outlaw and destitute that I am! That I repent of the

crimes that I have done and sought to do, is the good fruit of this

bitter on which I have rather preyed than fed. I wrote to Laudonniere of

my sorrow and repentance, but he refused to hear me. Bourdet I sought,

that he might take me once more to France; but he too dreaded communion

with me; and when I rushed into his boat, he only bore me to the

opposite shore of the river, and set me down to the exploration of new

forests, and the endurance of new tortures. I blame them not, that they

would not believe me--that they refused faith in one who had violated

all faith before--that, equally due to his God and to his sovereign. Oh!

brother, do not _you_ drive me from you also!"

And the miserable outlaw clasped his hands passionately together in

entreaty, with a face wild with woe and despair, and would have fallen

prostrate in humiliation before his comrades, if the arm of Alphonse

D'Erlach had not sustained him.

"But what of this savage, Oolenoe!" demanded the lieutenant, when the

first burst of grief had subsided from the lips of Le Genré.

"Ah! you know that I have been the prisoner to this savage, and to the

very comrades of my sin. For this I have pursued you hither. While you

march onward to snares such as the savages of Potanou have provided for

you by means of this Oolenoe, treachery is busy and successful at La

Caroline."

"Successful?"

"Ay! successful! But hear me. When I fled to the forest, I took shelter

first with the people of Satouriova. I was found out and followed by

Fourneaux, Stephen Le Genevois, and La Roquette. To them, at times, came

La Croix, whom Laudonniere still trusted, and whom even you did not

suspect. They came to me with new plans. They were to contrive pretexts

for sending you off to a distance, with the best men of the garrison.

Oolenoe was a ready agent at once of Potanou, Satouriova, and the

conspirators. In your absence, they were to get possession of the

garrison and secure the person of Laudonniere."

"You mean not to say, Le Genré, that they have succeeded in this?"

"Ay, do I--the garrison is in their hands--the shipping; and Laudonniere

is himself a close prisoner on board the unfinished brigantine."

"God of heaven! and I am here!"

"When the conspirators found that I no longer agreed to second them in

their machinations, and when I threatened to expose them to Laudonniere,

they employed Oolenoe to secure my person. Five of his people beset me

at the same moment, and held me fast in one of their wigwams until their

scheme had been carried into execution. With Laudonniere in their hands,

I was abandoned by my keepers, and suffered to go forth. From them I

learned the history of all that had taken place in the colony. I saw

the danger, and felt that the only hope for Laudonniere lay in you.

Fortunately, I had only to follow those who had held me captive, in

order to find the route that you had taken. The people of Oolenoe were

soon upon his tracks. I compassed theirs. It is one profit in the

outlawed life which I have been doomed to endure, that it has taught

me the arts of the savage--taught me the instincts of the beast,--his

stealth, his endurance, his far-sight, and his eager and appreciating

scent. Hark! dost hear! Put thy men in order. The subtle savage is about

to gird thee in."

Scarcely had he spoken, when the forest was alive with cries of warfare.

Wild whoops rang through the great avenues of wood, and sudden glimpses

of the red-men, followed by flights of arrows, warned the Frenchmen

still more emphatically to prepare against the danger. But the arrows,

though discharged with skill and muscle, were sent from far;--the dread

of the European fire-arms prompting a decent caution, which, in a great

degree, lessened the superiority which the savages possessed in numbers.

The woods were now filled with enemies. Tribe after tribe had collected,

along their route, as the Frenchmen had advanced, and every forward step

had served only to increase the great impediments in the way of their

return. It was due wholly to the excellence of the watch nightly kept by

D'Erlach, that they had not been butchered while they slept. It was

in consequence of his admirable caution, and provision against attack

while they marched, that they had not fallen into frequent ambush, as

they moved by noonday. Nightly had the subtle chief, Oolenoe, stolen

away to his comrades, arraying his numbers, and counselling their

pursuit and progress. His schemes detected, the mask was thrown aside as

no longer of use, and open warfare was the cry through the forests.

The necessity was before our Frenchmen of fighting their way back.

The effort of the red-men was to cut them off in detail, by frequent

surprises, by incessant assaults and annoyances, and by straitening them

in the search after water and provisions.

It would be a weary task to pursue, day by day, and hour by hour, the

thousand details, by which each party endeavored to attain its object.

The events of such a conflict must necessarily be monotonous. Enough to

say, that the whole genius of Alphonse D'Erlach was brought forth during

the constant emergencies of his march and proved equal to them all.

His first object was to pursue a new route on his return. This greatly

shortened the distance, and increased the chances of food, since it was

only from the route along which he came that Oolenoe had contrived the

removal of all the provisions. The progress was thus varied on their

return. It was enlivened by incessant attacks of the savages. Their

arrows were continually showered upon our Frenchmen from every thicket

that could afford an ambush; but, habited as they were with the

_escaupil_, or stuffed cotton doublets, which the Spaniards had invented

for protection in their warfare with the Indians, the damage from this

source was comparatively small. Some few of the Frenchmen were galled by

slight wounds, one or two were seriously hurt, and one of them suffered

the loss of an eye. In all these conflicts, Le Genré fought with the

greatest bravery--with a valor, indeed, that seemed to set at scorn

every thought of danger or disaster. He was always the first to rush

forward to the assault, and always the last to leave the pursuit,

when the trumpets sounded the recal. He proved an admirable second to

Alphonse D'Erlach, and materially contributed to the success of the

various plans adopted by the latter for the safety of his people.

It was the ninth day from that on which they left La Caroline, when Le

Genré made his appearance, and Oolenoe fled to the forests. Six days had

they been engaged in their backward journey. In this route, diverging

greatly from that which they had pursued before, and following the

course indicated by the sun with a remarkable judgment, which tended

still more to raise the reputation of Alphonse D'Erlach in the eyes of

his followers, they suddenly struck into a path with which Le Genré

himself was familiar. It proved to be one of those which he had pursued

on a previous occasion, when, in the possession of the confidence of his

chief, he had been permitted to lead forth a party for exploration.

Our Frenchmen now knew where they were, and thirty-six hours of steady

travelling would, they felt assured, bring them within sight of the

fortress of La Caroline. But, as if the inveterate chieftain, Oolenoe,

had made a like discovery at the same moment, his assaults became more

desperate, and were urged with a singular increase of skill and fury.

Now it was that the barbarian tribes of Florida seemed to gather into

a host--such a host as encountered the famous Ponce de Leon and other

Spanish chieftains when they sought to overrun the land. They no longer

sped their arrows from a distance, which, in giving themselves security

from the fire-arms of the Frenchmen, rendered their own shafts in great

degree innocuous. But it was observed that, when they had succeeded

in drawing the fire of the Frenchmen by two successive assaults, they

usually grew bolder at a third, and came forward with an audacity which

seemed to put at defiance equally the weapons and the spirit of their

enemies. The inequality of numbers between the respective parties,

made this subtle policy of Oolenoe particularly dangerous to the

weaker. Alphonse D'Erlach felt his danger, and the openly-expressed

apprehensions of Le Genré declared it. The subject was one of great

anxiety. The whole day had been spent in conflicts,--conflicts which

were interrupted, it is true, by frequent intervals of rest, but which

continued to increase in their violence as evening approached. Several

of the Frenchmen were now wounded, two of them dangerously, and all of

them were greatly wearied. Le Genré urged D'Erlach to a night movement,

in which they might leave their enemies behind them, and perhaps cause

them to give up the pursuit, particularly as they would then be almost

within striking distance of La Caroline; but the coolness and judgment

of D'Erlach had not deserted him, or been impaired by his increase of

difficulties.

"And how," said he, "am I to know whether we shall find friends or foes

in possession of La Caroline? This is not the least of my dangers.

I must preserve my force against that doubt; but keep them fresh,

certainly, and if possible without diminution, so that I may rescue

Laudonniere or sustain myself. Besides, to attempt the night march I

must leave these poor fellows, Mercoeur and Dumain, to be scalped by the

savages, or force them forward only that they may drop by the way. No!

we must take rest ourselves, and give them all the rest we can. We must

encamp as soon as possible, and the shelter of yon little bay, to which

we are approaching, seems to offer an excellent cover. We will make for

that."

He did as he said. His camp was formed on the edge of one of those

basins which, in the southern country is usually termed a bay--so called

in consequence of the dense forests of the shrub laurel that covers the

region with the most glistening green, and fills the languid atmosphere

with a most rich but oppressive perfume. Here he disposed his little

command, so that the approaches were few and such as could be easily

guarded. Here he was secure from those wild flights of arrows which, in

a spot less thickly wooded, might have been made to annoy a company,

discharged even in the darkness of the night. But Alphonse D'Erlach had

another reason for selecting this as his present place of shelter. As

soon as he had taken care of his wounded men, he examined the munitions

of all. He had been sparing his powder, and he was now rejoiced to find

that the quantity was quite sufficient, according to the exigencies of

the warfare of that day, to suffice for two or more days longer. This

enabled him to devise a project by which to ensnare the savages to their

ruin. Hitherto he had classed his men in three divisions. The first of

these encountered the first onslaught of the enemy, and the second

were prepared for its renewal, while the third was a reserve for a

continuance of the struggle, giving time to the two first divisions to

reload. But it had been seen, during the day, that the savages had made

a corresponding division of their force;--that successive attacks,

followed up with great rapidity, drew the fires of his several squads,

and so well aware did the assailants now appear to be of this practice,

that, after the third fire, they boldly rushed almost within striking

distance of the Frenchmen, hurling their stone hatchets with wonderful

dexterity and precision. To provide for this contingency--to convert it

to profitable results--was the study of D'Erlach. He felt that, but for

some stratagem, it was not improbable that the whole party would lose

their scalps before the closing of another day. He had observed that

the bay in which he harbored his men contained, interspersed with its

laurels, a perfect wilderness of _canes_, the fluted reeds of the swamp

and morass, common to the country, some of which grew to be nearly

twenty feet in height. These were still green in September, their

feathery tops waving to and fro in every breeze, while, under the

pressure of the sudden gust, their shafts, in seeming solid phalanx,

laid themselves almost to the earth, to recover, like an artful and

plumed warrior, when the danger had overblown. Without declaring his

plans, D'Erlach had a number of these canes cut down in secresy, and

divided into sections of four or five feet. The extreme barrel of

each of these sections was filled tightly with gunpowder, and a fuse

introduced at the orifice which received the powder. Strips from the

shirts of his people were employed to bind the portion of the reed thus

filled, and two of these shafts were lashed tightly to each matchlock,

the charged portion protruding near the muzzle. He needed no words

to explain his policy to his people. They understood the object in

beholding the process, and admired the ingenuity which promised them

hereafter the most signal advantages.

Rigid was the watch maintained that night in the camp of our Frenchmen.

Fortunately, they had obtained that day a fresh supply of food while

passing through a miserable hamlet, from which the occupants had fled

at their approach. Their supper was eaten in silence and anxiety. The

watches throughout the night were two, Le Genré taking the first, while

D'Erlach, from twelve till daylight, maintained the last. There were no

alarms. The Indians had retired, as was conjectured, to place themselves

in some favorite place of ambush against the coming of the Frenchmen

the next day. One of the two men who had been most severely wounded

among the Frenchmen, died that night in great agony. The arrow of the

savage had penetrated to his lungs. He had imprudently thrown off his

coat of escaupil, in consequence of the great heat of the noonday, and

a skirmish took place before he could reclothe himself, in which he

received his hurt. D'Erlach had the body laid in the deepest portion

of the bay, its only covering being a forest of canes, which were cut

down and thrown over the corpse.

With the first rosy blush of the dawn, the little troop was in motion.

At setting off D'Erlach gave ample directions for the anticipated

conflict. His command was divided into three companies. From the first

of these, three men were commissioned to deliver the fire of their

pieces on the appearance of the Indians. The rest were to discharge

one of the two loaded sections of cane attached to the matchlocks. The

second and third were to do likewise. The effect of this arrangement

would be to leave ten out of nineteen pieces undischarged, and ready

for fatal use on the more daring approach of the savages. Their

preparations, and the proposed _ruse_ were soon put to proof. It was

about nine o'clock in the morning, when the company was about to enter

a defile which led to an extensive tract of pines. At the entrance, on

each hand, stretched a morass that seemed interminable. The opening to

the pine forest seemed a narrow gorge, the jaws of which were densely

occupied with a tangled thicket that seemed to baffle approach. D'Erlach

saw the dangers which awaited him in such a defile. His three bands

were made to march separately as they approached it, and very slowly. A

moderate interval lay between them, which would enable them, while an

enemy could only attack them singly, in turn to support each other. The

judgment of our young lieutenant did not deceive him. On each side of

this gorge, Oolenoe had posted his warriors. They occupied the shelter

of the thicket on both hands. Their eagerness and impatience, increased

by the slow progress of the Frenchmen, whom they regarded as only

marching to the slaughter, lost them some of the advantages of this

position. They showed themselves too soon. With a horrid howl the young

warriors discharged their arrows from the covert, and then boldly

dashed out among the pines. The Frenchmen were nerved for the struggle.

Forewarned, they had been forearmed. There was no surprise. Coolly, the

three select men delivered the fire of their pieces, and each with fatal

effect. In the same moment the charged barrels of the cane were ignited

and torn asunder by an explosion which was sufficiently gun-like to

deceive the unpractised ear of the Indian. The savages answered this

fire by a cloud of arrows, and began to advance. It was now that the

remaining section of the division, which had retained their fire,

delivered it with great precision and an effect similar to the former;

those who had emptied their pieces on the previous occasion, contenting

themselves with discharging a cane. By this time, the two other

divisions, under D'Erlach, had pushed through the gorge, and were

spreading themselves right and left, among the pines, in a situation

to practice the same game with their assailants, which had been played

so well by the foremost party. We must not follow the caprices of the

battle. It is enough to say that, deceived by the apparent discharge of

all the pieces of the Frenchmen, the Indians, headed by Oolenoe himself,

dashed desperately upon their enemies, and were received by the fatal

fire from more than a dozen guns, which sent their foremost men headlong

to the ground, the subtle chief, Oolenoe himself, among them. At this

sight, the savages set up a howl of dismay, and fled in all directions;

while Oolenoe, thrice staggering to his feet, at length sunk back upon

the ground, writhing in an agony which did not, however, prevent him, on

the approach of D'Erlach, from making a desperate effort to smite him

with his stone hatchet. His whole form collapsed with the effort, and

wrenching the rude but heavy implement from the dying savage, the

lieutenant drove it into his brain and ended his agonies with a single

stroke.

With this adventure, the difficulties of the party ceased. That night

they reached the fortress, in season to confirm the authority of

Laudonniere; and, as we have seen, to assist in the execution of the

mutineers by whom he had been temporarily overthrown.

XVI.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

Sustained and reassured by the return of his lieutenant, Laudonniere,

released from his bonds, proceeded to re-organize his garrison. He

promoted those who had proved faithful when all threatened to be false,

and deprived the doubtful, or the dangerous, of all their previous

trusts. To improve and strengthen his forts, to build vessels, which

were to supply the places of those which the mutineers had taken, and

others of smaller burthen for the express navigation of the river, were

his immediate cares, in all of which his progress was considerable.

During this period he lived on relations of tolerable amity with his

Indian neighbors. Their little crops had, by this time, been harvested,

and they were not unwilling to exchange their surplus productions for

the objects of European manufacture which they coveted. The supplies

brought by the red-men were "fish, deere, turki-cocks, leopards, little

beares, and other things, according to the place of their habitation,"

for which they were recompensed with "certaine hatchets, knives, beades

of glasse, combs, and looking-glasses." The "leopards and little

beares" were probably wild cats and raccoons, or opossums, all of which

furnished excellent feeding to our hungry Frenchmen in September. The

wild-cat is usually a fat beast, differing very considerably from the

more savage tribes to whom we liken him, the wolf and the panther; while

the opossum is probably the fattest of all animals at seasons when the

forest mast is abundant. Of the quality of the meat we will say nothing.

To those with whom the appetite has been made properly subservient to

the taste, and who suffer from no necessities, his flavor is scarcely

such as legitimates his admission into the kitchen. But the case is far

otherwise with those inferior tribes with whom the appetites are coarse

and eager. The negro is seldom so well satisfied as when he feeds on

'possum. "'Possum," is the common remark among this people, "'possum

heap better than pig!" To those who know how high is the estimate which

the negro sets upon the pig family--an estimate which is the occasion of

an epidemic under which a fat pig, straying into the woods in June and

July, is sure to perish--the compliment is inappreciable.

Thus, feeding well, with his health and self-esteem gradually

recovering, Laudonniere began to resume his explorations, and to cast

his eyes about him with his old desire for precious discoveries. It was

about this time that he was visited by a couple of savages from the

dominions of King Maracou. This potentate dwelt some forty leagues to

the south of La Caroline. The Indians, among other matters, related

to Laudonniere that, in the service of another native monarch named

Onathaqua, there was a man whom they called "Barbu, or the bearded man,"

who was not of the people of the country. Another foreigner, whose name

they knew not, was said to inhabit the house of King Mathiaca, a

forest chieftain, whose tribes occupied a contiguous region. From the

descriptions thus given him, Laudonniere readily conceived that these

strange men were Christians. He accordingly opened a communication with

the tribes by which the intermediate country was occupied, and under the

stimulus of a liberal recompense, promised them in European goods, the

two strangers were brought in safety to La Caroline. The conjecture

of Laudonniere proved rightly founded. They were white men and

Christians--Spaniards who had suffered shipwreck some fifteen years

before, upon the flats called "The Martyrs," and over and against that

region of the country, which at this period was called Calos--from a

great native prince of that name.[22] This savage repaired to the wreck,

and carried off into captivity its crew and passengers. Many of these

were women, who became the wives of their conquerors. The king of Calos,

whom a Spaniard described as the "goodliest and the tallest Indian of

the country, a mighty man, a warrior, and having many subjects under

his obedience," not only saved the Europeans from their wreck, but, by

diligent and indefatigable perseverance, rescued most of the treasure

that was in the vessel; the wealth which had been gleaned with

unsparing cruelties from the bowels of the earth in Peru and Mexico. The

treasures thus obtained by King Calos, were represented to be of almost

limitless value. "He had great store of golde and silver, so farre forth

that, in a certaine village, he had a pit full thereof, which was at

the least as high as a man, and as large as a tunne." According to our

Spaniards, it might be easy, "with an hundred shot," to obtain all this

spoil; to say nothing of the scattered treasures which might be gleaned

from the common people of the country. That the extent of their

resources might not be under-valued, the captive Christians farther

informed him, that the young women of the country, when engaged in their

primitive dances, assembled to their festivities in a glorious costume,

such as would be an irresistible charm in any European assembly. They

were not only lovely in themselves, with their dark beauties partially

unfolded to the gaze, and the tawny hues enlivened by the warm lustre of

the sun, shining in crimson flushes through the prevailing hue of the

complexion, but they wore, suspended from their girdles, plates of gold,

large as a saucer, the number and weight of which would have totally

impeded the action as well as agility of any but a people so exquisitely

and vigorously proportioned. The men wore similar decorations, though

not perhaps in such great profusion. This gold, according to their

account, was derived chiefly from vessels cast away--the coasts of

the territory of King Calos being particularly treacherous, and their

secret, lurking shoals frequently rising up suddenly to rob the king

of Spain of his hardly-won ingots. The residue of his wealth in the

precious metals, King Calos derived from the kings and chiefs of the

interior. Perhaps more of it was obtained in this way than our Spaniards

knew. There can be no doubt but that the mines of the great Apalachian

ranges were explored, however imperfectly, by the red-men of the

country, following, in all probability, some superior races, who

first taught them where to look, and of whom we have now but the most

imperfect vestiges.

[22] "Ces Calos ou Carlos, sont anthropophages, et fort cruels, ils

demeurent dans une Baye, qui porte également leur nom, et celui de

Ponce de Leon."--CHARLEVOIX.

Among the articles of traffic, which the people of Calos sold to

the interior tribes, was a domestic root, constituting a favorite

bread-stuff which was particularly grateful to the palates of their

people. This is described as forming a fine flour, than which it it is

impossible to find better, and as supplying the wants of an immense

tract of country. It was undoubtedly the breadstuff known as _coonti_ in

modern periods. This, and a species of date, taken from a sort of palm

tree--the persimmon probably--were commodities in which they dealt

to great extent. Of the root from which they made their favorite

breadstuff, it is written, that the proprietors were very slow to part

with, unless well paid for it. The people of King Calos are probably

to be traced through a thousand fluctuations of place, character and

fortune, to the Seminoles of recent periods--a like people, living in

the same region, and rejoicing in the same fruits and freedom.

Of this King Calos, the narrative of our Spaniards goes farther, passing

finally into the province of the miraculous. He is described as a prince

held in special reverence by his subjects;--not simply for his valor

as a soldier, or his wisdom as a ruler, but his wondrous powers as a

magician. He seems to have combined the civil and the religious powers

of the nation--to have been priest and prophet as well as Governor. The

government of his country, like that of simple nations generally, was

theocratic and patriarchal. His people were taught to believe that it

was through his spells and incantations, that the earth brought forth

her fruits. He resorted to various arts to perpetuate this faith, and

various cruelties to subdue and punish that spirit of inquiry which

might test too closely the propriety of his spiritual claims. Twice a

year he retired from the sight of all his subjects, two or three of his

friends alone excepted, and was supposed, at this season, to be busy

with his mighty sorceries. Woe to the unlucky wretch who, whether

purposely or by accident, intruded upon his mysteries. The dwelling to

which he had resort was tabooed on every hand; and death, with the most

fearful penalties, stood warningly at all the avenues by which it was

approached. Each year a prisoner was sacrificed to the savage god he

served; and this prisoner, so long as Barbu had been a captive, had been

a Spaniard always--the supply being sufficient, from the frequency of

wrecks upon the coast, by which an adequate number of captives was

always to be had. The dominions of Calos are described as lying along a

river, beyond the cape of Florida, forty or fifty leagues towards the

southwest; while those of Onathaqua were nearer to La Caroline, on the

northern side of the cape, "in a place which we call in the chart,

Cannaverel, which is in 28 degrees."

When the two Spaniards were brought before Laudonniere they were

entirely naked. Their hair hung below their loins, as did that of the

savages; and so completely had they become accustomed to the habits of

the red-men, that the resumption of the costume of civilization was not

only strange but irksome. But Laudonniere was not disposed to permit

their acquired habits to supersede those of their origin. He caused the

hair of his newly-found Christians to be shorn, as heedless of the loss

of strength which might follow as ever was Dalilah while docking the

long locks of her giant lover. It was with great reluctance that the

wild men submitted to this shearing. When the hair was finally taken off

they insisted upon preserving it, and rolling it in linen put it away

carefully, to be shown in Europe as a proof of their wild and cruel

experience. In removing the shock from one of them, a little treasure

of gold was found hidden in its masses, to the value of five-and-twenty

crowns, by which the Spaniard conclusively proved that one portion of

his Spanish education had never deserted him. What a commentary upon the

wisdom of civilization, that, in such a state, with such bonds,

after such losses, of freedom, position, and the society of all the

well-beloved and equal, his heart should still yearn for the keeping of

a treasure which must, at every moment, have only served to mock the

possessor with the dearer treasures of home, country, friends, religion,

of which his fortunes had made utter forfeit. But let us pass to the

narrative of Barbu, himself--one of the recovered Spaniards--which we

owe, in some degree to history, but mostly to tradition.

XVII.

THE NARRATIVE OF LE BARBU:

THE BEARDED MAN OF CALOS.

Now when Barbu, the bearded man, who had been dwelling among the people

of Calos, had been shorn of the long and matted hair and beard, which

had made him much more fearful to the eye than any among the savages

themselves,--and when our right worthy captain had commanded that we

should bathe and cleanse him, and had given him shirts of fine linen

and clothes from his own wardrobe, so that he should once more appear

like a Christian man among his kindred,--albeit he seemed to be greatly

disquieted, and exceedingly awkward therein,--then did he conduct him

into the _corps de garde_, where our people were all bidden to assemble.

There, being seated all, Barbu, the Spaniard, being entreated thereto by

our right worthy captain, proceeded to unfold the full relation of the

grievous strait and peril by which he had fallen into the power of King

Calos, and of what happened to him thereafter. And it was curious to see

how that he, a Spaniard born, and not ill-educated in one of the goodly

towns of old Spain, in all gentle learning, should, in the space of

fifteen years sojourn among the savages, have so greatly suffered the

loss of his native tongue. Slow was he of speech, and greatly minded to

piece out with the Indian language the many words in which the memory

of his own had failed him. Well was it for our understanding of what he

delivered, that so many of us had been dwelling among the red-men at

other times,--to speak nothing of Monsieur D'Erlach, Monsieur Ottigny,

both lieutenants in the garrison, and Monsieur La Roche Ferriere, who,

with another, by special commandment of our captain, had dwelt for a

matter of several months among the people of King Olata Utina. By means

of the help brought by these, we were enabled to find the meaning of

those words in which Barbu failed in his Spanish. So it was that we

followed the fortunes of the bearded man, according to the narrative as

here set down.

* * * * *

Then, at the repeated entreaty of Monsieur Laudonniere, Barbu arose and

spoke:

"First, Señor Captain, I have to declare how much I thank you for the

protection you have given me, the kindness which has clad me once more

in Christian garments, and the cost and travail with which you have

recovered me from my bonds among the heathen. Albeit, that I feel

strangely in these new habits, and that my native tongue comes back to

me slowly when I would speak from a full and overflowing heart, yet will

I strive to make you sensible of all the facts in my sad history, and of

the great gratitude which I feel for those by whose benevolence I may

fondly hope that my troubles are about to end. I know not now the day or

season when we left the port of Nombre de Dios, in an excellent ship,

well filled with treasures of the mine, and a goodly company, on our

return to the land of our fathers beyond the sea. My own share in the

wealth of this vessel was considerable, and I had other treasures in the

person of a dear brother, and a sister who accompanied us. Our sister

was married to one who was with us also, and the united wealth of the

three, such was our fond expectations, would enable us to retire to our

native town of Burgos, and commend us to the favor of our people. But it

was written that we should not realize these blessed expectations, and

that I alone, of the four, should be again permitted to dwell among a

Christian people. Yet I give not up the hope that I shall yet see my

brother, who was carried away among the Indians of the far west, when we

were scattered among the tribes, in the grand division of our captives.

But this part of my story comes properly hereafter.

"We put to sea from the port of Nombre de Dios with very favoring winds;

but these lasted us not long, ere they came out from all quarters of

the heavens, and we ran before the storm under a rag of sail, without

knowing in what course we sped. Thus, for three days, we were driven

before the baffling winds; and when the storm lulled, the clouds still

hung about us, and our pilot wot nothing of that part of the sea in

which we went. Two days more followed, and still we were saddened by the

clouds that kept evermore coming down from heaven, and brooding upon the

deep like great fogs that gather in the morn among the mountains. Thus

we sped, weary and desponding as we were, without any certainty as to

the course we kept, or the region of space or country round about us.

Meanwhile, the seams of our vessel began to yawn, and great was the

labor which followed, to all hands, to keep her clear of water. This

we did not wholly; and it was in vain that our carpenter sought for,

in order to stop, the leak. Thus, weary and sad, we continued still

sweeping forward slowly, looking anxiously, with many prayers, for the

sun by day and the moon and stars by night. But the Blessed Virgin was

implored in vain. We had offended. There was treasure on board the

vessel, but it was stained with blood. You have not heard in your

histories of the bloody Juan de Mores y Silva, who tortured the unhappy

Mexicans by fire, even in the caverns where they resided, seeking

the gold, which they gained not sufficiently soon, or in sufficient

quantity, to satisfy his cruel lust for wealth. He was one of our

companions on this voyage, bound homewards with an immense subsidy in

ingots--huge chests of gold and silver--with which he aimed to swell

into grandeur with new titles, when he arrived in Spain. But the just

Providence willed it otherwise. He was, doubtless, the Jonah in our

vessel, who fought against the prayers for mercy and protection which

the true believers addressed to the Holy Virgin in our behalf."

Here our captain, Laudonniere, interrupted Barbu, and said--

"Verily, Señor Spaniard, had thy prayer been addressed to God himself,

the Father, through the intervention and the mediation of the Blessed

Saviour, his Son, whose blood was shed for sinners, it might have better

profited thy case. Thy prayers to the Virgin were an unseemly elevation

of a mortal woman over the divinity of the Godhead. But I will not

vex thee with disputation. Thou art a Christian, though it is after a

fashion which, to me seems scarcely more becoming than that of these

poor savages of Calos, who yield faith, as thou tellest me, to the

spells and enchantments of their bloody sovereign. But, proceed with

thy story, which I shall be slow to break in upon again until thou art

well ended."

With the permission thus vouchsafed him, Barbu, the bearded man, thus

resumed his discourse:

"We plead for the interposition of the Virgin, Monsieur le Capitaine,

not as we deem her the source of power and of mercy, but as we hold it

irreverent to rush even with our prayers to the feet of the awful Father

himself; and rejoice to believe that she who was specially chosen, as

one who should bear the burden of the Saviour-child, was of a spirit

properly sanctified and pure for such purposes of interposition. But, as

thou sayest, we will leave this matter. If we offend in our rites and

offices, it is because we err in judgment, and not that our hearts wish

to afflict the feelings or the thoughts of those who see with other eyes

the truth. Besides, my long and outlandish abode among the red-men,

might well excuse me many errors."

"And so, indeed, it might, Señor Spaniard," said Laudonniere graciously;

then, as the latter remained silent, Barbu continued:

"Doubtless, Señor, as I said before, the bloody Juan de Mores y Silva,

was the Jonah of our vessel, on whose account the Blessed Providence

turned a deaf ear to our prayers and entreaties. It was not decreed that

he should escape to rejoice in his ill-gotten treasure; and his fortunes

were so mixed up with ours, that the overthrow of one was necessarily at

the grievous loss and peril of us all. How many days we lay tossing on

the tumultuous waves, or swept to and fro, beaten and sore distressed by

the violent and changeful winds, I do not now remember, but it was in

very sickness and hopelessness of heart, that we lay down at night as

one lies down and submits to a power with which he feels himself wholly

powerless to contend. Thus did we cast ourselves down--as the dreary

shades of night came over us, with a deeper and drearier cloud than

ever,--not seeking sleep, but seized upon by it, as it were, to save us

from the suffering, akin to madness, which must haply follow upon our

fearful waking thoughts. While we slept, our vessel struck upon the low

flats of the Martyrs--those shoals which have laid bare the ribs of so

many goodly and gold-laden ships of my countrymen, sucking down their

brave hearts and all their treasures in the deep. We were lifted high by

the surges, and rested, beyond recovery, upon the shoals, from which the

remorseless seas refused again to lift us off. Our vessel lay upon one

side, and the greedy waves rushed into her hold. We were stunned rather

than awakened by the shock. We strove not for safety or repair. How many

perished in the moment when the ship fell over I know not, but one of

these was the husband of my sister. He was drowned in the first rush of

the billows into the ship, though, as it was night, we knew it not. My

sister had thrown herself beside my brother, and was sleeping upon his

arm. She was the first to learn her misfortune, awaking, as she averred,

to hear the faint cries of her lord for succor, though she knew not

whence the sounds arose. When our eyes opened upon the scene, strange to

say, the clouds had disappeared. The dark waves of the tempest had sped

away to other regions. A gentle breeze from the land had arisen, full

of sweet fragrance and a healing freshness, and, bright over head, in

the blessed heavens, blossomed fresh the eternal host of the stars. Oh!

the life and soothing in that smile of God. But we were not strong for

the blessing, nor sufficiently grateful that life was still vouchsafed

us. The day dawned upon us to increase our wretchedness. It left us

without hope. Our food was ruined by the waves that filled the vessel,

and though the land was spread before us in a lengthened stripe, bearing

forests which were surely full of fragrance, we beheld not the means

by which we should gain its pleasant shores with safety. Our boats had

perished in the surf; one of them stove to pieces, and the other swept

away. In our despondency and our sleep we had yielded our courage and

our providence, and we lay now in the sight of heaven, amidst the equal

realm of sea and sky, with the land spreading lovelily before us, yet

could we do nothing for ourselves. We lay without food or drink all day,

seeing nothing but the bare skies, the sea, and the shore, which only

mocked our eyes. My sister sorrowed and sickened in my arms. She cried

for water as one cries in the delirious agonies of fever. She would

drink of the water of the deep, but this we denied her; and the day sunk

again, and with it her hope and strength. With the increase of the winds

that night, she grew delirious; and, when we knew not--and this was

strange, for I cannot believe that I closed mine eyes that night--she

disappeared. Once, it seemed that I heard her voice, in a wild scream,

calling me by name, and I started forward to feel that she was gone. She

left my arms while I lay insensible. It was not sleep. It was stupor. My

consciousness was drowned in my great grief, and in the exhaustion of

all my strength for lack of food.

"My brother and myself alone survived of all our family. With the

knowledge that our sister was really gone--swallowed up, doubtless, in

the remorseless deep, into which she had darted in her delirium--we came

to a full consciousness. Then, when it was only misery to know, we were

permitted to know all, and to feel the whole terrible truth pressing

upon us, that we were alone in that dreary world of sea. Not alone of

our company; only of our people. Many there were who still kept in life,

watchful but hopeless. We could see their dusky forms by the faint light

of the stars, crouching along the slanting plane of the vessel, upon

which, by cord, and sail, and spar, we still contrived to maintain

foothold; and, anon, our company would lessen. The solemn silence of

all things, except the dash of the waves against us, rolling up with

murmurs, and breaking away in wrath, was interrupted only by a sullen

plunge, ever and anon, into the engulphing deep, as the hope went out

utterly in the heart of the victim, and he yielded to death, rather than

prolong the wretched endurance of a life so full of misery.

"Thus the night passed; not without other signs to cheer as well as

startle us. Through the darkness we could see lights in the direction of

the shore, as if borne by human hands. With the dawn of day, our eyes

were turned eagerly in that direction. Nor did we look in vain. The

shore swarmed with human forms. A hundred canoes were already darting

along the margin of the great deep, and evident were the preparations

of the people of this wild region, to visit our stranded vessel. In a

little time they came. Their canoes were some of them large enough to

carry forty warriors, though made from a single tree. They came to us

in order of battle; a hundred boats, holding each from ten to fifty

warriors. These carried spear and shield, huge lances, and well-curved

bows, drawn with powerful sinews of the deer. Their arrows were long

shafts of the feathery reed, such as flourish in all these forests. The

feather from the eagle's wing gave it buoyancy, and the end of the shaft

was barbed with a keen flint, wrought by art to an edge such as our best

workmen give to steel. Many were the chief men among these warriors, who

approached us in full panoply of barbaric pomp. Turbans of white and

crimson-stained cotton, such as the Turk is shown to wear, though folded

in a still nobler fashion, were wrapped about their heads, over which

shook bunches of plumes taken from the paroquet, the crane, and the

eagle. Robes of cotton, white, or crimson, or scarlet, colored with

native dies of the forest, clothed their loins, and fell flowing from

their shoulders; and, ever and anon, as they came, they shook a thousand

gourds which they had made to rattle with little pebbles, which, with

their huge drum, wrought of the mammoth gourd, and covered with raw

deer skin, made a clamor most astounding to our hapless ears. Thus they

hailed our vessel, making it appear as if they intended to have fought

us; but when they beheld how famishing we lay before them, with scarcely

strength and courage enough to plead for mercy--speaking only through

our dry and scalded eyes, and by clasping our hard and weary hands

together--then it seemed as if they at once understood and felt for us;

and they drew nigh with their canoes, and lowered their weapons, and

darting with lithe sinews upon the sides of our leaning vessel, they

held gourds of water to our lips, which cheered us while we swallowed,

as with the sense of a fresh existence.

"Thus were we rescued from the yawning deep. The savages took us, with a

rough kindness, from the wreck. They carried us in their canoes to the

shore; and several were the survivors, as well women as men. They gave

us food and nourishment, and when we were refreshed and strengthened,

they separated us from our comrades, sharing us among our captors, each

according to his rank, his power, or his favor with his sovereign.

Seventeen of our poor Christians were thus scattered among the tribes

and over the territories of the king of Calos. Some were kept in his

household; but my hapless brother was not among them. He was given to

a chief of the far tribes of the West, who made instant preparation to

depart with him. When they would have borne us apart, with a swift bound

and a common instinct, we buried ourselves in a mutual embrace. The

chiefs looked on with a laugh that made us shudder; while he to whom

my brother was given, with a savage growl, thrust his hands into the

flowing locks of my brother, and hurled him away to the grasp of those

who stood in waiting for the captive. He struggled once more to embrace

me, and long after I could hear his cry--'Brother, brother, shall we see

each other never more!' They heeded not his cries or struggles, or mine.

They threw him to the ground with violence, bound him hand and foot,

with gyves of the forest, and placing him in one of their great canoes,

they sped away with him along the shores, as they treaded to the mighty

West, where roll the great waters of the Mechachebe.

"Thus was I separated from my only surviving kinsman; and neither of us

could tell the fate which was in waiting for the other. Verily, then did

I look to find the worst. I no longer had a hope. It is my shame, as a

Christian, that, in that desolate moment, I ceased to have a fear. I

not only expected death, but I longed for it. I could have kissed the

friendly hand that had driven the heavy stone hatchet of the savage into

my brain. But, the Blessed Mother of God be praised, I thought not, in

my despair, to do violence to my own self. That sin was spared me among

my many sins, in that hour of despondency and woe; and all my crime

consisted in the criminal indifference which made me too little heedful

to preserve life. But this indifference lasted not long. I was the

captive of the king of Calos himself. Nine others were kept by him

including me, and among these was the cruel tyrant upon whose head lay

the blood of so many of the wretched people of Mexico, Don Juan de Mores

y Silva. He was the tyrant no longer. All his strength and courage had

departed in his afflictions; and in the hour of our despair and terror,

he was feebler than the meanest among us; feebler of soul than the girl

whose heart beats with the dread that she cannot name, fearfully, as

that of the little bird which you cover with your hand. We loathed him

the worse for his miserable fear; and it made us all more resolute in

courage to see one so cast down with his terrors, whom we had seen of

late so insolent in his triumphs.

"When the lots were determined, the king of Calos drew nigh to examine

us more heedfully. He had not before regarded us with any consideration.

Verily, he was a noble savage to the eye. His person was tall, like one

of the sons of Anak, and his carriage was that of a great warrior, born

a prince, to whom it was natural equally to conquer and to rule. Rich

were the garments of flowing cotton which he wore loosely, like a robe,

mostly white, but with broad stains of crimson about the skirts and

shoulders.

"A great baldrick hung suspended at his back, which bore a quiver, made

of the skin of the rattle-snake, filled with arrows, each shaft better

than a cloth-yard's length. The macana which he carried in his grasp,

was a mighty club of hard wood, close in grain, and weighty as stone,

which, save at the grasp or handle, was studded with sharp blades of

flint, which resembled it to the mighty blade of the sword-fish. With

this weapon mine eyes have seen him smite down two powerful enemies at

a single stroke. Great was his forehead and high, and his cheek bones

stood forth like knots upon his face, as if the cheeks were guarded by a

shield. Black was his piercing eye, which grew red and fiery when he was

angered; and, at such seasons, it was easier for him to smite than to

speak. Unlike his people, he wore the natural growth of his hair, long

and flowing straight adown his back, glossy with its original blackness,

and with the oil of the bear, of which, like all his people, the lord of

Calos made plentiful use. This king might be full forty years of age.

Yet looked he neither young nor old--neither so young that you might not

hold him the gravest and best counsellor of wisdom in the land, nor so

old, but that he might better and more ingeniously lead in battle than

any of his warriors. Certes, he was the most ready first to march when

the invasion of the distant tribes had been resolved on; and, of a

truth, never was statesman in the great courts of Europe--not the

counsellors of the great Carlos himself--so cool in speculation, so just

in judgment, so heedful to consider all the advantages and all the risks

of an enterprise, before the first step was set down in the adoption

of a policy. For seven years had I sufficient means, in the immediate

service of his household, to watch the courses of his thoughts and

character, and to know the virtues and the strength thereof. I saw him

devise among his chiefs, and inform them with his own devices. I have

seen him lead in battle, when all the plans were his own, and it was his

equal teaching and valiancy by which the field was won. Verily, I say

that this lord of Calos were a prince to mate with the best in Europe;

and, but that we have in European warfare such engines of mischief as

come not within the use or knowledge of his race, it were difficult to

circumvent him in stratagem, or overcome his braves in battle. With an

hundred shot--no less--and employing at the same time all the red-men as

allies, who are hostile to this king of Calos--and they are many--and

I doubt not Monsieur Laudonniere, but that you could penetrate his

dominions and make the conquest thereof. But of him could you make no

conquest. He is a warrior of the proudest stomach, who would rather

perish than lose the victory; and who, most surely, would never survive

the overthrow of his dominion.

"Me, did this great king examine with more curious eyes than he bestowed

upon the other captives. I know not for what reason, unless because of

the superior size and strength which I possess, and the extreme length

and thickness of my beard and hair, of which, as a Christian man, I have

always made too much account. All of us did he assign to labor; to

the gathering of wood, and work in the maize fields, with the women.

By-and-by, there came a preference for me beyond the others. I was

brought into the king's household, and barbed his arrows, and wrought

upon his great macanas, and strove, among the Indians, in hewing out his

canoes from the cypress, first burning out the greater core with fire.

But when harvest time came, a great festivity was held among the

savages. Bitter roots were gathered in the woods, and great vessels of

the beverage which was made thereof, was placed within the council or

round-house of the nation. Thither did the chiefs resort and drink; and

ever as they drank they danced, though the liquor wrought upon them like

_aguardiente_ with the European, and moved them even as the most violent

of emetic medicines. Still danced they, and still they danced for the

space of three whole days.--But the lord of Calos seemed not to mingle

at this strange festival. He purposed rites still more strange--rites,

which even now, I think upon with horror only. He had a dwelling to

himself in the deep woods, whither he retired the night before the day

when the great feast of the nation was to begin. Here he waited all the

night, watching with reverence and patience the burning of a strange

fire which had been wrought of many curious and fragrant herbs and

roots. Three of the ancient people, the priests or Iawas, as they style

themselves, retired with him to build this fire, which, when it began

to burn, placing in store a sufficient supply of aromatic fuel that he

might feed it still, they left him, with strange exorcising, to himself.

And there he kept watch throughout the night. But early with the next

morning he came forth, and he sprinkled the ashes of the fire upon the

maize field, and he cried thrice, with a loud voice, of Yo-he-wah,

which, I believe to mean the sacred name as known among the red-men.

With each cry, as our poor Spaniards, myself among them, were gathering

the green ears from the maize stalks, the priests who followed the

king of Calos, seized bodily upon three of our brethren, taking us by

surprise, and putting us all in a quaking fear. These three were all

brought before the lord of Calos, who, not looking upon them as they lay

bound at his feet, threw yet another vessel of sacred ashes into the

air, and as these three Spaniards lay separate, with their faces looking

up, I beheld the ashes sink immediately upon the breast of him whom I

have already named to you--the Jonas by whom our vessel was doomed to

wreck--the cruel Don Juan de Mores y Silva. Now, though the king surely

looked not as he threw the ashes into the air, yet did it descend upon

the breast of this said Spaniard, as certainly as if the eye and arm

of this lord had been upon this particular person at the moment when

he threw. Verily, though I know not well how it should be--being

counselled by Holy Church against such belief--yet, verily, had this

lord of Calos certain powers which did seem to justify the saying among

his people, that he was a master of magic and of arts superior to those

of common men.

"Now, when the Iawas, or priests, beheld where the ashes fell, they

seized incontinently upon the Spaniard aforesaid. They bore him away

from us, wondering and fearing all the while. But those who remained

loosed the other two who had been bound, and they were set free with the

rest, to pursue their labors in the corn-field. But we were not let to

know the awful fate which befel the Spaniard who was taken. Verily, he

saw his danger in the moment when the ashes lighted on his breast. His

face was whiter than the blossom of the dogwood when it first opens to

the spring. His eye glared, and his lip quivered like a leaf in the

gusts of March, though nothing he spake at anything they did to him. But

when they bore him away from our eyes, then a terrible fear and agony

caused him to cry aloud--'Oh! my countrymen, will you not save me from

the bloody savage!' I cannot soon forget that cry, which was clearly

that of a person who beholds his doom. But of what avail? We had not the

people, nor the strength, nor the weapons! A thousand savages danced

wildly around the council-house, and the fields were full of these who

came to drink and dance. Besides, we thought not of any danger but our

own. We knew not how soon the fate was to befal us; for had it not

seized upon Don Juan without a warning or a sign.

"They bore him to the secret tabernacle in the woods, where the lord of

Calos watched alone. We saw not then, but afterwards we knew, what had

been his fate. There they laid him upon a great mound of earth, with

the sacred fire burning at his head in a large vessel of baked clay,

formed with a nice art by the savages, and painted with the mystic

figure of a bloody hand. The garments which he wore were taken off, and

his limbs were fastened separately to great stakes driven in places

about the mound. Thus were his hands and legs, his body and his very

neck made fast, so that whatever might be the deed done upon him, he

could oppose it not even in the smallest measure. But it was permitted

him to cry aloud--and those of us who stole into the woods seeking to

hear,--with a terrible curiosity which our very apprehensions fed,--we

heard,--we heard,--and even as the awful scream of our late companion

came piercing through the woods upon our ears,--we fled afar from the

sound, which was that of a mortal agony and anguish. And, verily, the

torture to which he was doomed was that which might well compel the poor

outraged heart of humanity to cry aloud. With a keen knife, and the hand

of one who had practised long at the cruel rite, the lord of Calos laid

bare the breast of the victim, he not able to struggle even,--only to

shriek,--he laid it bare as one peels the ripe fruit, and exposes the

precious heart thereof! Even this did the lord of Calos. He stripped the

skin from the breast of his victim, then, with sharp strokes, he smote

away the flesh, until the quaking ribs lay bare to his point. With a

sharp stone chisel he smote the breast-bone asunder, lifted the ribs,

and tore away the smoking heart, which he cast, reeking red, into the

burning fire of odorous woods and herbs, which then flamed up and

brightened in the dark chamber, as if fed with some ichorous fuel. In

that terrible agony, when the soul and the human life were thus rudely

torn apart from the mutual embrace, it was told me by the lord of Calos,

himself, that the victim burst one of the wythes that bound him, and

freed his right hand, which he waved violently thrice, even while his

murderer was plucking his heart away from its quivering fastenings!

Oh! the horror, though for a moment only, of that awful consciousness!

Verily, my friends, if the lord of Calos did possess a power of magic

such as his people affirm, verily, I say, he paid a terrible price to

the eternal hater of human souls, when he gat from him his perditious

privilege!

"But the sufferings of that wretched victim, who then and thus perished,

were they greater than those which followed our footsteps,--we, the

survivors,--haunting us by night and day, with the mortal terrors of a

fear that such must be our doom also? Every rustle of an approaching

footstep among the maize-stalks where we toiled, breaking the stems and

gathering the ripened ears, seemed to our woe-stricken souls, as the

step of one who came as an executioner; while we labored in the gloomy

thicket, gathering fuel for the winter fires, the same fear was hanging

over us with a threat of the impending doom. We lived and slept in a

continual dread of death, which made the hair whiten on every brow, even

of the youngest, before that terrible winter was gone over.

"To us it was assigned to put away the body of our murdered comrade. But

this was only after the three days of the feast was elapsed, and when

the duty was tenfold distressing. Still, though all our senses revolted

at the task, a fearful curiosity compelled a close examination of

the victim. Then it was that we saw how the execution had been done,

though we knew not then, nor until some time after, that the cell

which enshrined and kept the heart had been torn open, and the

sacred possession wrenched away with violent hands, even while the

wretched victim had eyes to see, as well as sensibilities to feel, the

sacrilegious and bloody theft. We bore the body far into the woods,

wrapping it with leaves so as to hide it from our eyes, while we carried

it in the bottom of an old canoe which we found for this purpose. Our

burial was conducted after the fashion of the red-men. We laid the corse

of our comrade upon a bed of leaves on the naked earth, and laid heavy

fragments of pine and other combustible wood about him. With this

we made a great pile, which we set on fire, and let to burn until

everything was consumed. We then, with sad, sorrowing, and trembling

hearts, returned, each one of us, in a mournful silence that wist not

what to say, to our separate tasks, and the places which had been

assigned us.

"Now, many months had passed in this manner, and still I was employed

about the king's household. This lord of Calos distinguished me, as I

have said, beyond my comrades. I had a great vigor of limb which is not

common among this people, except in so much as it moves them to great

agility. They are rather light, swift and expert, than powerful in war;

and trust rather to great cunning than superior strength, in the meeting

with their enemies. The king of Calos greatly admired to see me lift

heavy logs of timber, such as would have borne down any among his people

if laid upon his shoulders. But he himself had a strength superior to

his people, and he wondered even more when, striving to lift the logs

which I laid down, he found it beyond his mastery. Then, he put his bow

into my hand, and giving me a cloth-yard shaft of reed, well tipped with

a flinty barb, and dressed with an eagle's feather, he bade me draw it

to the head, and send it as I would. Upon which, doing so, he greatly

wondered to see how rapid and distant was the flight, for well he knew

that the ability to shoot the arrow far comes rather from sleight than

from strength, and is an art that only grows from practice. But this,

perhaps, had not fully given me to the confidence of the king, had it

not been for a service which I rendered on one occasion to his favorite

son, a boy of but twelve years of age, whom I plucked from beneath the

feet of a great stag, which the hunters had wounded in the forest. The

red-men greatly delight to see their sons take part in the chase, even

while their gristle is yet soft and their limbs feeble; for by this

early practice they desired to make them strong and skilful. The son of

the lord of Calos was a youth, tall and strong beyond his years; and

because of the fondness of his father, exceedingly audacious in all

manner of sports and strifes. Thus it was that, having seen a great

stag wounded by the shaft of his sire, he had run in upon him with his

slender spear. The staff of the spear broke, even as the barb penetrated

the breast of the beast, and the boy fell forward at the mercy of his

mighty antlers. Then was it that, seeing the lad's danger,--for I was at

hand, bearing the victuals for the hunters--I threw down the basket, and

rushing in, took the stag by his horns, in season for the lad to recover

himself. The lord of Calos drew nigh and saw, but he offered no help,

leaving it to his son to draw the keen knife which he carried, over the

throat of the struggling beast. And, excepting what the boy said to

me of thanks, nothing did I hear of the thing which I had done. But,

three weeks after, the king made his preparations, for a war party

against the mountain Indians. Then he spoke to me, saying, in his own

language,--which, by this time, I could understand,--Barbu,--this was

the name which had been given me because of my beard--Barbu, it is not

fit that one with such limbs and skill as thou hast, should labor still

in the occupation of the women. Get thee a spear, such as will suit

thy grasp, and there are bows and arrows for thy choice,--make thee

satisfied with sufficient provision, and get thee ready to go against

mine enemies. Thou shalt have to tear the flesh of a strong man!

"Verily, my friends, though it shames me to confess, that I, a Christian

man, could lift weapon in behalf of one against another savage of the

wilderness; yet such had been my sorrow, and so wretched did I feel at

the base tasks to which I had been given,--so very unlike the valiant

duties which had distinguished mine ancient service in the armies of

Castile,--that I even rejoiced at the chance of putting on the armor of

war,--and the meaner weapon of the red-men satisfied me then, who of

old had carried, with great favor, the matchlock and the sword. But

the weapon of the savage, as perchance thou knowest, is not greatly

inferior, according to their usage, and in their country, to the

superior implements with which the Christian warrior takes the field. If

the arquebuse is more fatal than the barbed arrow of the Indian, it is

yet less frequently ready for the danger. While you shall have put your

pieces in readiness for a second fire, the savage will deliver thirty

javelins, each of which, if within bullet reach, shall inflict such an

injury, short of death, as may disarm the wounded person. Their reeds

are always ready at hand. To them every bay and river bank affords an

armory, and the loss of their weapons, which were fatal to Frenchman or

Spaniard, causes them but little mischief, since a single night will

repair all their losses. Neither much time nor much cost is it to

them to supply their munitions, of which they can always carry a more

abundant provision than can we. The great superiority of the European,

in his encounter with the red-man, is in his wisdom, the fruit of

many ages of civilization, and not in the weapons which he wields in

conflict. Let him exchange weapons with the savage, and he will still

obtain the victory.

"It was because of this showing of superiority, together with the

service which I had thus rendered to his son, that made the lord of

Calos take me with him, armed as a warrior, on his expedition against

the mountain Indians of Apalachy. I hastened to provide myself with

weapons, as I was commanded, and I made for myself a great mace, such as

that which the strongest warriors carried, which was a billet of hard

wood, not more than four feet in length, with a handle easy to the

grasp, while at each side ran down a great row of flinty teeth, each

broad and sharpened like to a spear-head. It is a fatal weapon, with a

well-delivered blow. In like manner did I imitate the practice of the

red-men in dressing the head and breast for war. I put on the paints,

red and black, which I beheld them use; but, instead of the unmeaning

and rude figures which they scored upon the breast, I drew there the

figure of a large cross, by which, though none but myself might know, I

made anew my assurance to Holy Mother, of a faith unperishing, in Him

who bore its burthen; and implored His protection against the perils

which might lurk along the path. In the same manner, with a bloody

cross, did I inscribe my forehead and each cheek, while I dipped my

hands above the wrist in the black dyes which they also used as paints,

and which they took from the walnut and other woods of the forest.

Greatly did my Christian comrades wonder to behold me, painted after

this fashion, with a bunch of turkey feathers tied about my head like

the savage, and the strange weapons of the red-men in my grasp. These

rejoiced exceedingly as they beheld me, and laughed and chatted among

themselves, saying--'Yah-hee-wee! Yah-hee-wee!' with other words, by

which they testified their satisfaction. But our Spaniards were in the

same degree sorry, as it seemed to them that, in spite of the holy

emblem upon my breast, I had delivered myself up to the enemy, and had

put on, with the habit, all the superstitions of the Heathen. They had

sorrow upon other grounds, since I was about to leave them, and, from

the favor I had found with the lord of Calos, I had grown to be one to

whom they began to look as to a mediator and protector.

"We set out thus for the country of the enemy, the lord of Calos leading

the way upon the march, as is the custom with the Indians, while the foe

is yet at a distance from the spot. But, as we drew nigh to the hills of

the Apalachian, the young men were scattered on every hand, as so many

light troops. They covered all the paths, they harbored in all places

where they could maintain watch and find security, and nightly they sent

in runners to the camp, reporting their discoveries. I entreated of the

lord of Calos to be sent with these young men; but, whether he feared

that I would seek an opportunity to fly and escape to the enemy, I know

not. He refused, saying that it required scouts of experience,--men who

knew the ways of the country, and that I could be of no use in such

adventures. He was pleased to add that he wished me near him, as one of

his own warriors--that is, the warriors of his family or tribe--that I

might do battle at his side, and in his sight!

"We were not long in finding the enemy, who had received tidings of our

approach. Several battles were fought, in which I did myself credit in

the eyes of our warriors. The lord of Calos was greatly pleased. He took

me with him into counsel, and it was fortunate that the advice which

I gave, as to the conduct of the war, was adopted, and was greatly

successful. Many were the warriors of the mountain whom we slew. Many

scalps were taken, and more than a hundred captive boys and damsels.

These, if young, are always spared, and taken into the conquering tribe.

The former are newly marked with the totem of the people who take them,

while the latter become the wives of the chiefs, who greatly value them.

I confess to you, my brethren, that I was guilty of the sin of taking

one of these same women into my cabin, who was to me as a wife, though

no holy priest, with appointed ceremonials of the church, gave his

sanction to our communion. She was a lovely and a loving creature,

scarcely sixteen, but very fair, almost like a Spaniard, and of hair so

long that she hath thrice wrapt it around her own neck and mine."

"Why didst thou not tell me of that woman?" said Laudonniere,

interrupting the narrator. "Had we known, she should have been procured

with thee. But, even now, it is not too late. We will bid the chief,

Onathaqua, send her after thee, so that thou may'st wed her according

to the rites of the church."

"Alas!" replied Barbu, "thou compellest me, Señor Laudonniere, to

unravel sin after sin before thee. I have greatly erred and wandered

from the paths of virtue, and from the laws of Holy Church, in my

grievous sojourn among the savages. That woman filled no longer the

place which she had at first in my affections. With increase of power

and security, I grew wanton. I grew weary of her, and sold her to one of

the chiefs for a damsel of his own house, which mine eyes coveted."

The Spaniard hung his head as he made this confession, while Laudonniere

with severe aspect rated him for his lecheries. When the captain had

ceased his rebuke, Le Barbu continued his story thus:

"We gained many battles in this war with the mountain Indians, who are

neither so fierce, nor so subtle as those who dwell along the regions of

the sea. Verily, the people of the lord of Calos are great dissemblers,

treacherous beyond the serpent, valiant of their persons, and fight with

excellent address. Great was the favor which I found with them because

of my conduct in the war; and, in each succeeding war, for a space of

six years, I became, in like manner, distinguished, until I became a

most favorite chief with the lord of Calos, and a bosom friend and

companion of his son--he whom I had rescued from the stag, and who had

now grown up to manhood. Greatly did this lad favor his father. He was

of a light olive complexion, scarcely more dark than the people of

Spanish race, but superior in stature, well-limbed, and of admirable

dexterity. With him I hunted from the fall of the leaf in autumn, to the

budding of the leaf again in spring; and, when the summer time came, we

sped away in our canoes, up the vast rivers of the country, through

great lakes, many of which lie embadey in forests of mangrove and

palm, where the forest swims upon the water. If it were possible for a

Christian man--for one who has heard the sound of a great bell in the

cities of the old world, and who has communed with the various good and

wondrous things of civilization--to be content with a loss of these, and

their utter exclusion from sight for ever, then might I have passed

pleasantly the years of my captivity among the people of Calos. I had

become a chief and was greatly honored. I had power and I was much

feared. I had wealth--such wealth as the savage estimates--and I was

loved; and the lord of Calos and his noble son, put in me a faith which

never betrayed a doubt or a denial. But I had not power to shield my

brother Christians, save in one case. Each year witnessed the sacrifice

of a comrade. They were the victims to the Iawas. The priesthood was a

power under which the kings themselves were made to tremble. With them

was it to determine upon peace or war, life or death, bonds or freedom;

and the strength of the king lay greatly in his alliance with the

priesthood. But for this, the rule among the savage nations would be

wholly with the people. Season after season, when came the harvest, one

of our luckless Spaniards was taken away from the rest and doomed to the

sacrifice. In this way the savages propitiate the unknown God, to whom

they looked for victory over their enemies. Do not suppose that I beheld

this cruelty without toiling against it. But I spoke in vain. I made

angry the Iawas, until the lord of Calos himself addressed me, after

this fashion--'Son of the stranger, art thou not well thyself? Why

wouldst thou be sick, being well? Art thou not thyself safe? Why, being

so, put thy head under the macana? It is not wise in thee to _see_

the things over which the power is denied thee. Go then, with Mico

Wa-ha-la,'--such was the name of his son--'go then with him into the

great lake of the forest, and come not back for a season. Depart thou

thus, always, when the maize is ready for the harvest.'

"I obeyed him; but not until I found that I was endangering my own

safety to attempt further expostulation; and then it was that my

companions perished, all save the one who now sits before thee with

myself, and whom I saved because of a service which I rendered to the

Iawa, and whom I persuaded to take my white brother into his wigwam. He

went, even before myself, but through my means, into the service of

Onathaqua."

Here Captain Laudonniere interrupted the speaker.

"For what reason," said he, "being such a favorite with the king of

Calos and his son, didst thou at last leave his service for that of the

King Onathaqua?"

"Alas, Señor Laudonniere, thy question shames me again, since it

requires of me to lay bare another of the vices of my evil heart, and

to confess how the bad passions thereof could lead me into follies which

proved fatal to my better fortune. I had gained great honor among the

savages by my prudence and my skill in war, my strength in battle, and

the excellence of my counsel in the country of the enemy. I had gained

the good will and protection of the great king of Calos, and the

affection of his son, the noble young Mico Wa-ha-la! But these contented

me nothing, though they brought plenty and security to my wigwam, and

such delights as might satisfy the man, a dweller in the wilderness. I

have said that I was greatly trusted by the king, the prince, and the

head men of the country. These then, after I had been eight years in

their service, confided to my charge a great and sacred commission. The

time had come when it became proper that this Mico Wa-ha-la should take

to himself a wife. Now, tidings had reached Calos of a creature, lovely

as a daughter of the sun, who was the youngest child of the King

Onathaqua. A treaty was agreed upon between the two kings for the

marriage of their children; and I was dispatched, with a select body of

warriors, to bring the maiden home to her new sovereign. It was not the

custom for a chief desiring a wife, that he should seek her in person.

Accordingly I was dispatched, and I reached the territories of Onathaqua

in safety. Here I beheld the maiden in pursuit of whom I came, and my

froward heart instantly conceived the wildest affection for her beauty.

Beautiful she was as any of our Castilian maidens, and as delicate and

modestly proper in her bearing, as one may see in the gentlest damsel

of a Christian country. Deeply was I smitten with this new flame, and

greatly did I strive to please the maiden who had fired me with these

fresh fancies. I spake with her in the Indian language, with charms of

thought which had been taken from the Castilian, such as were vastly

superior to those which belonged to Indian courtship. I sang to her many

a glorious ballad of the sweet romance of my country, discoursing of

the tender loves between the Castilian cavaliers and the dark-eyed and

dark-tressed maidens of Grenada. Verily, the beauty of the delicate

daughter of Onathaqua, the precious Istakalina--by which the people of

Onathaqua understand the white lily of the lake before it opens--was

no unbecoming representative of that choice dark beauty which made the

charm of the Moorish damsel of my land, ere Boabdil gave up his sceptre

into the hands of the holy Ferdinand. For Istakalina, I rendered the

language of the Castilian romance into the dialect of her people; and

with a sad fondness in her eyes, that drooped ever while looking upwards

at the passionate gaze of mine, did she listen to the story of feelings

and affections to which her own young and innocent nature did now

tenderly incline. Thus was it that she was delivered into my keeping

by her sire, that I should conduct her to the young Mico Wa-ha-la, my

friend. And thus, with fond discourse of song and story, which grew more

fond with every passing hour--with me to speak and she to listen--did

we commence our journey homeward to the dominions of the lord of Calos.

Alas! for me, and alas! for the hapless maiden, that, in the fondness of

my passion, I forgot my trust; forgot preciously to guard and protect

the precious treasure in my keeping; and, in the increase of my blind

love, forgot all the lessons of war and wisdom, and all the necessary

providence which these equally demand. Thus was it that I was

dispossessed of my charge, at the very moment when it was most dear to

my delight. Didst thou ask me for the hope which grew with this blind

passion, verily, señor, I should have to say to thee that I had none. I

thought not of the morrow; I dared not think of the time when Istakalina

should fill the cabin of Wa-ha-la. I knew nothing but that she was with

me, with her dark eyes ever glistening beneath their darker lids, as she

met the burning speech of mine; that we thridded the sinuous paths of

silent and shady forests, with none to reproach our speech or glances;

our attendants, some of them going on before, and some following; and

that, when she ascended the litter, which was borne by four stout

savages, or sat in the canoe as we sped across lake or river--for both

of these modes of travel did we at times pursue--I was still the nearest

to her side, drunk with her sweet beauty, and the sad tenderness which

dwelt in all her looks and actions. Nor was it less my madness that I

fondly set to the account of her fondness for me, the very sadness with

which she answered my looks, and the sweet sigh which rose so often to

her softly parted lips. Verily, was never man and Christian so false and

foolish as was I, in those bitter blessed moments. Thus was I blinded to

all caution--thus was I heedless of all danger--thus was I caught in

the snare, to the loss of all that was precious as well to my captor as

myself."

"How was this? How happened it?" demanded Laudonniere as Le Barbu

paused, and covered his face with his hands in silence, as if overcome

with a great misery.

"Thou shalt hear, Señor. I will keep nothing from thee of this sad

confession; for, verily, have I long since repented of the sin and folly

which brought after them so much evil. Thou shalt know that, distant

from the territories of the lord of Calos, a journey of some three

days, and nearly that far distant also from the dwelling of Onathaqua,

there lieth a great lake of fresh water, in the midst of which is an

island named Sarropee. This island and the country which surrounds

the lake, is kept by a very powerful nation, a fierce people, not so

numerous as strong, because they have places of retreat and refuge,

whither no enemy dare pursue them. On the firm land, and in open

conflict, the lord of Calos had long before conquered this strange

people; but in their secure harborage and vast water thickets, they

mocked at the power of all the surrounding kings. These, accordingly,

kept with them a general peace, which was seldom broken, except under

circumstances such as those which I shall now unfold. The people of this

lake and island are rich in the precious root called the _Coonti_, of

which they have an abundance, of a quality far superior to that of all

the neighboring country. Their dates, which give forth a delicious

honey, are in great abundance also, and of these their traffic is large

with all other nations. But that they are a most valiant people, and

occupy a territory so troublesome to penetrate, they had been destroyed

by other nations, all of whom are greedy for the rich productions which

their watery realm bestows. Now, it was, that, in our journey homewards,

we drew nigh to the great lake of the people of the isle of Sarropee.

Here it was that my discretion failed me in my passion. Here it was that

my footstep faltered, and the vision of mine eyes was completely shut.

I knew that our people were at peace with the people of Sarropee, and

I thought not of them. But had I not been counselled to vigilance in

bringing home the daughter of Onathaqua, even as if the woods were thick

with enemies? But I had forgotten this caution. I sent forth no spies; I

sought for no wisdom from my young warriors; and, like an ignorant child

that knows not of the deep gulf beneath, I stepped confidently into the

little canoe which was to take Istakalina and myself across an arm of

the lake which set inwards, while our warriors fetched a long compass

around it. Alas! señor, I was beguiled to this folly by the fond desire

that I might have the lovely maiden wholly to myself in the little

canoe, for already did I begin to grieve with the thought that in a few

days, the journey would be at an end, and I should then yield her unto

the embraces of another. And thus we entered the canoe. I made for her

a couch, in the bottom of the little boat, of leaves gathered from the

scented myrtle. With the paddle in my hand, I began to urge the vessel,

but very slowly, lest that we should too soon reach the shore, and find

the warriors waiting for us. Sweetly did I strive to discourse in her

listening ears; and with what dear delight did I behold her as she

answered me only with her tears. But these were as the cherished drops

of hope about mine heart, which gave it a life which it never knew

before. While thus we sped, dreaming nothing of any danger, over the

placid waters, with the dark green mangrove about us, and a soft breeze

playing on the surface of the great lake, suddenly, from out the palm

bushes, darted a cloud of boats, filled with painted warriors, that bore

down upon us with shows of fury and a mighty shout of war. I answered

them with a shout, not unlike their own, for already had I imbibed

something of the Indian nature. I shouted the war-whoop of the lord

of Calos, and tried to make myself heard by the distant warriors that

formed my escort. And they did hear my clamors; for already had they

rounded the bayou or arm of the lake which I had sought to cross, and

were pressing down towards us upon the opposite banks. Then did I bestir

the paddle in my grasp, making rapid progress for the shore, while the

canoes of the Sarropee strove to dart between us and the place for which

I bent. But what could my single paddle avail against their better

equipment? Theirs were canoes of war, carrying each more than a score of

powerful warriors armed for action, and prepared to peril their lives in

the prosecution of their object. I, too, was armed as an Indian warrior,

and with their approach, I betook me to my weapon. I had learned to

throw the short lance, or the javelin of the savage, with a dexterity

like his own; and, ere they could approach me, I had fatally struck

with these darts two of their most valiant warriors. They strove not to

return the arrows lest they should hurt the maiden, Istakalina, who had

raised herself at the first danger, and now strove with the paddle which

I had thrown down. As one of the canoes which threatened us drew nigh, I

seized the great macana which I carried, and prepared myself to use it

upon the most forward warriors; but when I expected that they would

assail me with war-club and spear, the cunning savages thrust their

great prow against our little boat, amidships, and even while my macana

lighted on the head of one of the assailants, smiting him fatally, I

fell over into the lake with the upsetting of our vessel. In a moment

had they grasped Istakalina from the lake, and taken her to themselves

in their own canoe, and as I raised my head from the water, beholding

this mishap, a heavy stroke upon my shoulder, which narrowly missed my

head, warned me of my danger. Then, seeing that I could no longer save

the captive maiden, I dived deeply under, making my way like an otter,

beneath the water, for the shore. A flight of arrows followed my rising

to take the air, but they were hurriedly delivered, with little aim, and

only one of them grazed my cheek. The mark is still here as thou seest.

Again I dived beneath the water, still swimming shoreward, and when I

next rose into the light and air, I was among the people of the lord of

Calos. They were now assembled along the banks of the lake, as near as

they could go to the enemy, some of them, indeed, having waded waist

deep in their wild fury and desperate defiance. But of what avail were

their weapons or their rage? The maiden, Istakalina, the princess and

the betrothed of Wa-ha-la, was gone. The people of the Sarropee had

borne her off, heeding me little even as they had taken her. She was

already far off, moving towards the centre of the lake, and faint were

the cries which now came from her, though it delighted my poor vain

heart, in that desperate hour, to perceive that, in her last cries, it

was my unhappy name that she uttered. They bore her away to the secret

island where they dwelt, in secure fastnesses; and long and fruitless,

though full of desperation, was the war that followed for her recovery.

But, though I myself fought in this war, as I never have fought before,

yet did I not dare to do battle under the eye, or among the warriors of

the lord of Calos. I fled from his sight and from the reproaches of my

friend, the Mico Wa-ha-la, for, in my soul, I felt how deep had been my

guilt, and my conscience did not dare the encounter with their eyes. I

took refuge with Onathaqua, the father of Istakalina; and when he knew

of the valor with which I strove against the captivity of the maiden, he

forgave me that I lost her through my own imprudence. Of the blind and

selfish passion which prompted that imprudence, he did not dream, and

he so forgave me. Under his lead, I took up arms against the tribes of

Sarropee, and for two years did the war continue, with great slaughter

and distress among the several nations. But, in all our battles, I kept

ever on the northern side of the great lake, and never allowed myself to

join with the warriors of Calos. They but too well conceived my guilt.

The keen eyes of mine escort distinguished my passion, and saw that it

was not ungracious in the sight of Istakalina. Too truly did they report

us to the lord of Calos, and to my friend, the young Mico Wa-ha-la.

Bitter was the reproach which he made me in a last gift which he sent

me, while I dwelt with Onathaqua. It consisted of a single arrow, from

which depended a snake skin, with the warning rattles still hanging

thereto. 'Say to the bearded man,' said the Mico, 'when you give him

this, that it comes from Wa-ha-la. Tell him that his friend sends him

this, in token that he knows how much he hath been wronged. Say to the

bearded man, that Wa-ha-la had but one flower of the forest, and that

his friend hath gathered it. Let his friend beware the arrow of the

warrior, and the deadly fang of the war-rattle, for the path between

us is everywhere sown with the darts of death.'

"Thus he spake, and I was silent. I was guilty. I could not excuse

myself, and did not entreat. I felt the truth of his complaint and the

justice of his anger. I felt how great had been my folly and my crime.

Istakalina was lost to us both. Thus then, a fugitive, and an outlaw

from Calos, dreading every moment the vengeance of Wa-ha-la and his

warriors, I dwelt for seven years with Onathaqua, who hath ever treated

me as a son. I have fought among his warriors, and shared the fortunes

of his people, of which nothing more need be said. Tidings at length

came to me, of a people in the country bearded like myself. Then came

your messengers to Onathaqua, and you behold me here. I looked not for

Frenchmen but for Spaniards. I thank and praise the Blessed Mother of

God, that I have found friends if not countrymen, and that I see, once

more, the faces of a Christian people."

Thus ended the narrative of Le Barbu, or the Bearded Man of Calos.

XVIII.

HISTORICAL SUMMARY.

We have already mentioned that, with the restoration of Laudonniere

to power, and the complete subjection of his mutineers, he resumed by

degrees his projects of exploration and discovery. Among other places to

which he sent his barks, was the territory of King Audusta, occupying

that region in which Fort Charles had been erected by Ribault, in the

first attempt to colonize in the country. To Audusta, himself, were

sent two suits of apparel, with knives, hatchets and other trifles;

"the better," as Laudonniere says, "to insinuate myselfe into his

friendship." To render this hope more plausible, "I sent in the barke,

with Captaine Vasseur, a souldier called Aimon, which was one of those

which returned home in the first voyage, hoping that King Audusta might

remember him." This Aimon was instructed to inquire after another

soldier named Rouffi, who, it appears, had preferred remaining in the

country, when it had been abandoned by the colonists under Nicolas

Barré.

Audusta received his visitors with great favor,--sent back to

Laudonniere a large supply of "mil, with a certaine quantity of beanes,

two stagges, some skinnes painted after their manner, and certaine

pearles of small value, because they were burnt." The old chief invited

the Frenchmen once more to remove and plant in his territories. He

proffered to give him a great country, and would always supply him with

a sufficient quantity of grain. Audusta had known the Frenchmen almost

entirely by benefits and good fellowship. The period of this visit to

Audusta, which was probably in the month of December, is distinguished

in the chronicle of Laudonniere, by expressions of delightful surprise

at the number of stock doves (wild pigeons) which came about the

garrison--"in so greate number, that, for the space of seven weekes

together," they "killed with harquebush shot at least two hundred every

day." This was good feeding. On the return of Capt. Vasseur from his

visit to Audusta, he was sent with a present "unto the widow of Kinge

Hiocaia, whose dwelling was distant from our fort about twelve leagues

northward. She courteously received our men, sent me backe my barkes,

full of mil and acornes, with certaine baskets full of the leaves of

cassine, wherewith they make their drinke. And the place where this

widow dwelleth, is the most plentifull of mil that is in all the coast,

and the most pleasante. It is thought that the queene is the most

beautiful of all the Indians, and of whom they make the most account:

yea, and her subjects honour her so much that almost continually they

beare her on their shoulders, and will not suffer her to go on foot."

The visit of Laudonniere, through his lieutenant, was returned, in a few

days, by the beautiful widow, through her Hiatiqui, "which is as much as

to say, her Interpreter."

Laudonniere continued his explorations, still seeking provisions, and

with the view to keeping his people from that idleness which hitherto

had caused such injurious discontents in his garrison. His barks were

sent up May River, to discover its sources, and make the acquaintance of

the tribes by which its borders were occupied. Thirty leagues beyond the

place called Mathiaqua, "they discovered the entrance of a lake, upon

the one side whereof no land can be seene, according to the report of

the Indians, which had oftentimes climbed on the highest trees in the

country to see land, and notwithstanding could not discerne any."

These few sentences may assist in enabling the present occupants of the

St. John's to establish the location along that river, at the period of

which we write. The ignorance of the Indians in regard to the country

opposite, along the lake, indicates equally the presence of numerous

tribes, and the absence of much adventure or enterprise among

them--results that would seem equally to flow from the productive

fertility of the soil, and the abundance of the game in the country.

With this account of it as a _terra incognita_, the explorers ceased to

advance. In returning, they paid a visit to the island of Edelano--one

of those names of the Indians, which harbors in the ear with a musical

sweetness which commends it to continued utterance. We should do well to

employ it now in connection with some island spot of rare beauty in the

same region.

This island of Edelano is "situated in the midst of the river; as fair a

place as any that may be seene thorow the world; for, in the space of

some three leagues that it may containe, in length and breadth, a man

may see an exceedingly rich countrey and marvellously peopled. At the

coming out of the village of Edelano, to goe unto the river side, a man

must passe thorow an alley about three hundred paces long and fifty

paces broad; on both sides whereof great trees are planted, the boughes

whereof are tied [blended?] together like an arch, and meet together so

artificially [as if done by art] that a man would thinke it were an

arbour made of purpose, as faire, I say, as any in all Christendom,

although it be altogether naturall."

Leaving the island of Edelano, thus equally famous for its beauties of

nature and name, our voyagers proceeded "to Eneguape, then to Chilily,

from thence to Patica, and lastly they came unto Coya." This place seems

to have been, at this period, one of the habitations of the powerful

king Olata Utina. In the name Olata, we find an affix such as is common

to the Seminoles and Creeks of the present day. _Holata_, as we now

write the word, is evidently the Olata of Laudonniere. It was probably

a title rather than a name.[23] Olata Utina received his visitors

with great favor, as he had always done before; and six of them were

persuaded to remain with him, in order the better to see the country,

while their companions returned to La Caroline. Some of these remained

with the Indian monarch more than two months. One of them, named

Groutald, a gentleman who had taken great pains in this exploration,

reported to Laudonniere that he had never seen a fairer country. "Among

other things, he reported to me that he had seene a place, named

Hostaqua, and that the king thereof was so mighty, that he was able to

bring three or four thousand savages into the field." Of this king

we have heard before. It was the counsel of Monsieur Groutald to

Laudonniere that he should unite in a league with this king, and by this

means reduce the whole country into subjection. "Besides, that this king

knew the passages unto the mountaine of Apalatci, which the Frenchmen

desired so greatly to attaine unto, and where the enemy of Hostaqua made

his abode, which was easie to be subdued, if so be wee would enter into

league together." Hostaqua sent to Laudonniere "a plate of a minerall

that came out of this mountaine,--out of the foote whereof"--such was

the glowing account given by the Indian monarch--"there runneth a

streame of golde or copper." The process by which the red-men obtain the

pure treasures of this golden stream was an exceedingly primitive one,

and reminds us of the simple process of gathering golden sands in

California. "They dig up the sand with an hollow and drie cane of reed,

until the cane be full; afterward they shake it, and find that there are

many small graines of copper and silver among this sand; which giveth

them to understand that some rich mine must needs be in the mountaine."

Laudonniere is greatly impressed by this intelligence, "and because the

mountaine was not past five or six days journey from our fort, lying

towards the north-west, I determined, as soone as our supply should come

out of France, to remove our habitation unto some river more towards the

north, that I might be nearer thereunto."

[23] Holata Mico (or Blue King), and Holata Amathla, were

distinguished leaders of the Seminoles in the late war in Florida.

An incident, which occurred about this time, still further increased

the appetites of Laudonniere. He had suffered, and indeed sent, certain

favorite soldiers to go into several parts of the country, among the

savage tribes with whom he kept terms of amnesty and favor, in order

that they should acquire as well a knowledge of the Indian language

as of the country. One of these was named Peter Gambier. This man had

rambled somewhat farther than his comrades. He had shared in all the

more adventurous expeditions of the Indians, and had succeeded in

gathering a considerable quantity of gold and silver, all of which was

understood to have been directly or indirectly from the Indians, who

dwelt at the foot of the Apalachian Mountains. These were tribes of the

Cherokee nation, with whom the Indian nations along the sea-board were

perpetually at war. Full of news, and burdened with his treasure, Peter

Gambier prepared to return to La Caroline. He had made his way in safety

until he reached the beautiful island with the beautiful name, Edelano,

lying in the midst of but high up May River. On the same stream which

was occupied by his countrymen, in force, the thoughtless soldier

conceived himself to be quite safe. He was hospitably entertained by

the chief or king of Edelano, and a canoe was accorded him, with

two companions, with whom to descend the river to the fort. But the

improvident Frenchman, allowed his precious treasures to glitter in the

eyes of his host. He had not merely gold and silver, but he had been

stocked with such European merchandises as were supposed most likely to

tempt the savages to barter. A portion of this stock remained in his

possession. The natural beauties of the island which they occupied had

not softened the hearts of the savages with any just sense of humanity.

They were as sensible to the _auri sacra fames_ as were the Europeans,

and just as little scrupulous, we shame to say it, in gratifying their

appetites as their pale-faced visitors. The possessions of the Frenchmen

were sufficient to render the Mico of Edelano indifferent to all

considerations of hospitality, and the two Indians whom he lent to

Gambier were commissioned to take his life. Thus, accompanied by his

assassins, he entered the canoe, and they were in progress down the

river, when, as the Frenchman stooped over some fish which he was

seething in the boat, the red-men seized the opportunity to brain him

with their stone hatchets, and possess themselves of his treasures. When

the tidings came to Laudonniere, he was not in a situation to revenge

the crime; but the large acquisitions of gold and silver procured by his

soldier, as reported to him, confirmed him in his anxiety to penetrate

these tantalizing realms, in which the rivers ran with such glittering

abundance from rocks whose caverns promised to outvie all that Arabian

story had ever fabled of the magical treasures of Aladdin.

Scarcely had this event taken place, when the war was renewed between

Olata Utina and Potanou. The former applied for assistance to

Laudonniere, who, adopting the policy of the "Spaniards, when they were

imployed in their conquests, who did alwayes enter into alliance with

some one king to ruine another," readily sent him thirty arquebusiers,

under Lieutenant Ottigny. These, with three hundred Indians, led by

Utina, penetrated the territories of Potanou, and had a severe fight,

which lasted for three hours, with the people of that potentate.

"Without doubt, Utina had been defeated, unlesse our harquebusiers had

borne the burthen and brunt of all the battell, and slaine a great

number of the soldiers of Potanou, upon which occasion they were put

to flight." The lieutenant of the French would have followed up the

victory, but Utina, the Paracoussi, had gathered laurels quite enough

for a single day, and was anxious to return home to show his scalps

and enjoy his triumphs among his people. His tribes and villages were

assembled at his return, and, for several days, nothing but feasts,

songs and dances, employed the nation. Ottigny returned to the fort,

after two days spent in this manner with Utina, and his return was

followed by visits from numerous other chiefs, nearer neighbors than

Utina, and enemies of that savage, who came to expostulate with

Laudonniere against his lending succor to a prince who was equally

faithless and selfish. They, on the other hand, entreated him to unite

with them in the destruction of one who was a common enemy. This

application had been made to him before; but his policy had been rather

to maintain terms of alliance, offensive and defensive, with a powerful

chieftain, at some little distance, than to depend wholly upon others

more near at hand. This policy was again drawn from that of the

Spaniard. He was soon to be taught how little was the reliance which he

could place in any of the forest tribes. He was about to suffer from

those deficiencies and evils which were due to his anxious explorations

of the country, when his people had been much better employed in the

wholesome labors of the field, in the very eye of the garrison.

It was the custom of the Indian tribes, after the gathering and storing

away of their harvests, to commence hunting with the first fall of the

leaves, probably about the middle of September. The chase, during this

period, was seldom such as to carry them far from the fields which they

had watched during the summer. Near at hand, for a season at least,

the game was in sufficient quantity to supply their wants. But, as the

season advanced, and towards the months of January, February and March,

they gradually passed into the deeper thickets, and disappeared from

their temporary habitations. During this period, they build up new

abodes, which are equally frail, in the regions to which they go, and

which are contiguous to the hunting-grounds which they are about to

penetrate. To these retreats the whole tribe retires; and hither they

carry all the commodities which are valuable in their eyes. Their summer

dwellings are thus as completely stripped as if the region were

abandoned forever.

This removal, for which their previous experience should sufficiently

have prepared our Frenchmen, was yet destined to have for them some very

pernicious results. We have seen that certain subsidies of corn and

beans had been procured from various tribes and nations; enough,

according to Laudonniere, to serve them until the arrival of expected

succors from France. But, calculating on these succors, and confident

of their arrival during the month of April, our Frenchmen had become

profligate of their stores. April found them straitened for provisions,

and not an Indian could be seen. April passed slowly and brought no

succor. With the month of May the Indians had returned to their former

abodes; but, by this time, their remaining stock of grain had mostly

found its way into the ground, in the setting of another crop. From

the savages, accordingly, nothing but scanty supplies of fish could be

procured, without which, says Laudonniere, "assuredly wee had perished

from famine." Of the incompetence of this captain, and the wretched

order which prevailed among his garrison, his incapacity and other

incompetence, this statement affords sufficient proof. They neither

tilled the earth for its grain, nor sounded the river for its finny

tribes; though these realms were quite as much under their dominion as

that of the savages; but they relied solely upon this capricious and

inferior race, in the exploration of land and sea, for maintaining them

against starvation.

May succeeded to April, and still in vain did our Frenchmen look forth

upon the sea, for the ships of their distant countrymen. June came,

and their wants increased. They fell finally into famine, of which

Laudonniere himself affords us a sufficiently impressive picture.

"We were constrayned to eate rootes, which the most part of our men

punned in the mortars which I had brought with me to beate gunnepowder

in, and the graine which came to us from other places. Some tooke the

wood of _esquine_, (?) beate it, and made meale thereof, which they

boiled with water, and eate it. Others went with their harquebusies to

seeke to kill some foule. Yea, this miserie was so great, that that one

was founde that had gathered up all the fish-bones that he could finde,

which he dried and beate into powder to make bread thereof. The effects

of this hidious famine appeared incontinently among us, for our bones

eftsoones beganne to cleave so neare unto the skinne, that the most part

of the souldiers had their skinnes pierced thorow with them in many

partes of their bodies, in such sort that my greatest feare was, least

the Indians would rise up against us, considering that it would have

beene very harde for us to have defended ourselves in such extreme decay

of all our forces, besides the scarsitie of all vittualls, which fayled

us all at once. For the very river had not such plentie of fish as it

was wont, and it seemed that the very land and water did fight against

us." In this condition were they till the beginning of June. "During

which time," says the chronicler, further--"the poore souldiers and

handicraftsmen became as feeble as might be, and being not able to

worke, did nothing but goe, one after another, as centinels, unto the

clift of an hill, situate very neare unto the fort, to see if they might

discover any French ship."

But their watchings still ended with disappointment. Thus was the hope

with which the heart sickens, deferred too long. No ships greeted their

famishing eyes, and they at length appealed to their commander, in a

body, to take measures for returning to France, and abandoning the

colony,--"considering that if wee let passe the season to embarke

ourselves, wee were never like to see our country;" and alleging,

plausibly enough, that new troubles had probably broken out in France,

which was the reason that they had failed to receive the promised

succors. Laudonniere lent an easy ear to their demands. He, himself, was

probably quite as sick of the duties, to which he was evidently unequal,

as were his followers. It was, perhaps, prudent to submit to those for

whom he could no longer provide. The bark "Breton" was fitted up, and

given in charge to Captain Vasseur; and, as this vessel could carry

but a small portion of the colony, it was determined to build a "faire

ship," which the shipwrights affirmed could be made ready by the 8th of

August. "Immediately I disposed of the time to worke upon it. I gave

charge to Monsieur de Ottigny, my lieutenant, to cause timber necessary

for the finishing of bothe the vessels to be brought, and to Monsieur

D'Erlach, my standard-bearer, to goe with a barke a league off from the

forte, to cut down trees fit to make plankes." Sixteen men, under the

charge of a sergeant, were set "to labour in making coals; and to Master

Hance, keeper of the artillery," was assigned the task of procuring

rosin to bray the vessels. "There remained now but the principal,

[object,] which was to recover vittualls, to sustain us while the worke

endured." Laudonniere, himself, undertook to seek for this supply. He

embarked with thirty men in the largest of his vessels, with the purpose

of running along the coast for forty or fifty leagues. But his search

was taken in vain. He procured no supplies. He returned to the fort only

to defraud the expectations of his people, who now grew desperate with

hunger and discontent. They assembled together, riotously, and, with one

voice, insisted that the only process by which to extort supplies from

the savages was to seize upon the person of their kings.

To this, at first, Laudonniere would not consent. The enterprise was

a rash one. The consequences might be evil, in regard to any future

attempts at settlement. He proposed one more trial among them, and

sent despatches communicating his desire to traffic for food with the

surrounding tribes. The Indians were not averse to listen. But they knew

the distress under which the Frenchmen suffered, and were prepared to

turn it to account. They came into the garrison with small supplies of

grain and fish, enough to provoke appetite rather than to satisfy it.

For these they demanded such enormous prices, as, if conceded, would

have soon exhausted all the merchandise of the garrison. With one hand

they extended their produce, while the other was stretched for the

equivalent required. Knowing the desperation of the Frenchmen, they took

care, while thus tantalizing their hopes and hunger, to keep out of

reach of shot of arquebuse. In this way, they took the very shirts

from the backs of the starving soldiers. When Laudonniere remonstrated

against their prices, their answer was a bitter mockery.

"Very good," said the savages, "if thou make such great account of thy

merchandise, let it stay thy hunger. Do thou eat of it and we will eat

of our fish." This reply would be cheered with their open-throated

laughter. The old ally of the French, the Paracoussi Utina, mocked them

in like manner. His subjects followed his example; and, in the end,

goaded to madness, Laudonniere resolved on adopting the course which

his people had counselled; that, by which, taking one of their kings

prisoner, food could be extorted for his ransom. The ingratitude of

Utina, for past services, a recent attempt which he had made to employ

the French soldiers in his own conquests, while professing to lead them

only where they should find provisions, and the supposed extent of his

resources, pointed him out to all parties as the proper person upon whom

to try the experiment, on a small scale, which Cortez and Pizzarro had

used, on a large one, in the conquest of Peru and Mexico.

XIX.

Of the captivity of the Great Paracoussi--Olata Ouvae Utina, and the

war which followed between his people and the French.

CHAPTER I.

It being determined by Laudonniere, in the necessities of his people,

to seize upon the person of the great Paracoussi, Olata Ouvae Utina,

in order, by the ransom which he should extort, to relieve the

famine which prevailed among the garrison, he proceeded to make his

preparations for the event. Two of his barks were put in order for this

purpose, and a select body of fifty men was chosen from his ranks to

accompany him on the expedition. But this select body, though the very

best men of the garrison, exhibited but few external proofs of their

adequacy for the enterprise. So lean of flesh, so shrunk of sinew, so

hollow-eyed were they, that their picture recals to us the description

given by Shakspeare of the famished and skeleton regiments of Henry of

Monmouth at the famous field of Agincourt--'A poor and starved band,'

the very 'shales and husks of men,' with scarcely blood enough in all

their veins, to stain the Indian hatchet, which they travel to provoke.

But famine endows the sinews with a vigor of its own. Hunger enforced

to the last extremities of nature, clothes the spirit of the man in the

passions of the wolf and tiger. Lean and feeble as are our Frenchmen,

they are desperate. They are in the mood to brave the forest chief in

his fastnesses, and to seize upon his own heart, in the lack of other

food. The very desperation of their case secures them against any

misgivings.

The dominions of Holata Utina were distant from La Caroline, between

forty and fifty leagues up the river. His chief town, where he dwelt,

lay some six more leagues inland, a space over which our Frenchmen had

to march. Leaving a sufficient guard in their vessels, Laudonniere

and his company landed and proceeded in this quarter. He marched with

caution, for he knew his enemy. His advance was conducted by Alphonse

D'Erlach, his standard-bearer--one, whose experience and skill had been

too frequently tried to leave it doubtful that his conduct would be

a safe one. He had traversed the space before, and he knew the route

thoroughly. The progress was urged with as much secrecy as caution. The

cover of the woods was carefully maintained, the object of the party

being a surprise. They well knew that Utina had but little expectation

of seeing them, at this juncture, in his own abodes. None, so well as

himself, knew how feeble was their condition, how little competent to

any courageous enterprise. They succeeded in appearing at the village of

the chief without provoking alarm. He himself was at home, sitting in

state in the royal wigwam, with but few warriors about him. The fashion

of the Indian, with less royal magnificence, in other words, with less

art and civilization--is not greatly unlike that of the Turk. Olata

Utina sat crossed legs upon a _dais_ prepared of dressed skins of the

deer, the bear and panther. The spotted hides hung over the raised

portions of the seat which he kept, upon which also might be seen

coverlets of cotton ingeniously manufactured, and richly stained with

the bright crimson, scarlet, and yellow, of native dye-woods. This art

of dyeing, the savages had brought to a comparatively high state of

perfection. His house itself stood upon an artificial eminence of earth,

raised in the very centre of his village, and overlooking it on every

hand. It was an airy structure, with numerous openings, and the breeze

played sweetly and capriciously among the coverlets which hung as

curtains before the several places of egress and entrance. Utina himself

was a savage of noble size and appearance. He carried himself with the

ease and dignity of one born to the purple. His form, though an old man,

was still unbending and tall. His countenance was one of great spirit

and nobleness. With forehead equally large and high, with a dark eye

that flashed with all the fires of youth, with lips that opened only to

discourse in tones of a sweet but majestic eloquence, and with a shrewd

sagacity, that made him, among a cunning people, a recognised master

of all the arts of the serpent, he was necessarily a person to impress

with respect and admiration those even who came with hostility.

It is probable that Utina knew nothing of the approach of the Frenchmen,

until it was too late to escape them. But, before they entered the

opened space assigned to the settlement, he was advised of their coming.

Then it was that he threw aside his domestic habit and assumed his

state. Then it was that he resumed his dignity and ascended the _dais_

of stained cotton and flowing deer-skin. His turban of purple and yellow

cotton was bound skilfully about his brow, his bow and quiver lay beside

him, while at his feet was extended his huge macana, or war-club, which

it scarcely seemed possible that his aged hands should now grasp with

vigor sufficient for its formidable use. His hands, when the Frenchmen

entered the dwelling, held nothing more formidable than the earthen

pipe, and the long tubulated reed which he busied himself in inserting

within the bowl. Two of his attendant warriors retired at the same

moment. These, Laudonniere did not think proper to arrest, though

counselled to do so by D'Erlach. He knew not that they had been

despatched by the wily Paracoussi for the purpose of gathering his

powers for resistance.

Laudonniere appeared in the royal wigwam with but ten companions. Forty

others had been dispersed by D'Erlach at proper points around the

village. Of their proximity the king knew nothing. His eye took in,

at a single glance, the persons of his visitors; and a slight smile,

that looked derisive, was seen to overspread his visage. It was with

something like good humor in his tones that he gave them welcome. A page

at the same time brought forth a basket of wicker-work, which contained

a large collection of pipes of all sorts and sizes. Another basket

afforded a sufficient quantity of dried leaves of the tobacco and

vanilla. The Paracoussi nodded to his guests as the boy presented

both baskets, and Laudonniere, with two others of his company, helped

themselves to pipes and weed. Thus far nothing had been said but

"_Ami_," and "_Bonjour_." The welcome of the Indians was simple always,

and a word sufficed among them as amply as the most studied and verbose

compliment. The French had learned to imitate them in this respect, to

be sparing of words, and to restrain the expression of their emotions,

particularly when these indicated want or suffering.

But the necessities of our Frenchmen were too great and pressing, at the

present time, to be silenced wholly by convention; and when, as if in

mockery, a small trencher of parched corn was set before them, with a

vessel of water, the impatience of Laudonniere broke into utterance.

"Paracoussi Utina," said he, "you have long known the want which has

preyed upon our people."

"My brother is hungry," replied Utina, with a smile more full of scorn

than sweetness--"let my brother eat. Let his young men eat. There is

never famine among the people of Utina."

"And if there be no want among the people of Utina, wherefore is it that

he suffers the French to want? Why has he forgotten his allies? Did not

my young men fight the battles of Utina against the warriors of the

mighty Potanou? Did not many captives grace the triumph of Utina? Has

the Paracoussi forgotten these services? Why does he turn away from his

friends, and show himself cold to their necessities?"

"Why will my pale brother be talking?" said the other, with a most

lordly air of indifference. "The people of Utina have fought against the

warriors of Potanou for more than a hundred winters. My French brother

is but a child in the land of the red-people. What does he know of the

triumphs of my warriors? He saw them do battle once with the tribes of

Potanou, and he makes account because he then fought on behalf of my

people. My people have fought with the people of Potanou more than a

hundred battles. Our triumphs have been witnessed by every bird that

flies, every beast that runs, every fish that swims, between the

villages of Potanou and the strong house of the Frenchman where he

starves below. What more will our pale brother say, being thus a child

among the red-men?"

"Why parley with the savage?" said Alphonse D'Erlach, "if you mean to

take him? I care not for his insolence which chafes me nothing; but we

lose time. You have suffered some of his warriors to depart. They are

gone, doubtless, to gather the host together. We shall need all the time

to carry our captive safely to the boats."

These words were spoken aloud, directly in the rear of Utina, D'Erlach

having taken a place behind him in the conference. The Paracoussi was

startled by the language. Some of it was beyond his comprehension. But

he could not misunderstand the tone and manner of the speaker. D'Erlach

was standing above him, with his hand stretched over him, and ready to

grasp his victim the moment the word should be spoken. His slight form

and youthful features, contrasted with the cold, inflexible expression

of his eyes and face, very forcibly impressed the imagination of the

Indian monarch, as, turning at the interruption, he looked up at the

person of the speaker. But, beyond the first single start which followed

the interruption, Utina gave no sign of surprise or apprehension.

"Awhile, awhile, Alphonse--be not too hasty, my son;" was the reply of

Laudonniere. He continued, addressing himself to the Paracoussi:

"My red brother thinks he understands the French. He is mistaken. He

will grow wiser before he grows much older. But it will be time then

that I should teach him. It matters now only, that I should say to the

Paracoussi Utina, _we want, and you have plenty_. We have fought your

battles. We are your friends. We will trade with you for mil and beanes.

Give us of these, according to our need, and you shall have of the

merchandize of the French in just proportion. Let it be so, brother,

that peace may still flourish between our people."

"There is mil and beanes before my white brother. Let him take and

divide among his people."

"But this will not suffice for a single meal. Does the Paracoussi laugh

to scorn the sufferings of my people?"

"The Paracoussi laughs because the granaries of the red-men are full.

There is no famine among _his_ people. Hath the Great Spirit written

that the red-man shall gather food in the proper season that the white

man may sleep like the drowsy buffalo in the green pasture? Let my

white brother drive from his ear the lying bird that sings to him:

'Sleep--take thy slumber under the pleasant shade tree, while the people

of Utina get thee food!'"

"Would the Paracoussi make the Frenchmen his enemies? Is their anger

nothing? Is their power not a thing to be feared?"

"And what is the Paracoussi Olata Ovae Utina? Hath he not many thousand

warriors? The crane that rises in the east in the morning, though he

flies all day, compasses not the land at sunset, which belongs to my

dominions. East and west my people whoop like the crane, and hear no

birds that answer but their own. Let my pale brother hush, for he speaks

a foolish thing of his warriors. Did I dream, or did any runners tell me

that the bones of the Frenchmen break through the skin, lacking food,

and their sinews are so shrunken that they can never more strive in

battle? Who shall fear them? I had pity on my brother when I heard these

things. I sent him food, and bade my people say--'take this food which

thou needest; the great Paracoussi asks for nothing in recompense, but

thy guns, thy swords, and thy lances; weapons which they tell me thou

hast strength to use no longer.'"

"Did they tell thee so, Utina? But thou shalt see. Once more, my

brother, I implore thee to give us of thy abundance, and we will

cheerfully impart to thee from our store of knives, reap-hooks,

hatchets, mirrors, and lovely beads, such as will delight thy women.

Here, behold,--this is some of the treasure which I have brought thee

for the purposes of barter."

The lordly chieftain deigned not a single glance to the European wares,

which, at a word from Laudonniere, one of the French soldiers laid at

his feet. The French captain, as if loth to proceed to extremities,

continued to entreat; while every new appeal was only answered, on the

part of the savage prince, with a new speech of scorn, and new gestures

of contempt. At length, Laudonniere's patience was exhausted, and he

gave the signal which had been agreed upon with his lieutenant. In the

next moment, the quick grasp of Alphonse D'Erlach was laid upon the

Paracoussi's shoulders. He attempted to rise, and to grasp, at the same

time, the macana which lay at his feet. But D'Erlach kept him down with

his hands, while his foot was struck down upon the macana. In that

moment, the war-conch was sounded at the entrance by several Indians

who had been in waiting. It was caught up and echoed by the bugles of

D'Erlach; the blast of which had scarcely been heard throughout the

village, before it had been replied to, four several times, from as many

different points where the French force had been stationed, ten soldiers

in each. One desperate personal struggle which the Paracoussi made,

proved fruitless to extricate him from the grasp of his captor; and he

then sat quietly, without a word, coldly looking his enemies in the

face.

CHAPTER II.

The captive Paracoussi lost none of his dignity in his captivity. He

scorned entreaty. He betrayed no symptom of fear. That he felt the

disgrace which had been put upon him, was evident in the close

compression of his lips; but he was sustained by the secret conviction

that his warriors were gathering, and that they would rescue him from

his captors by the overwhelming force of their numbers. At first his

stoicism was shared by his family and attendants; but when Laudonniere

declared his purpose to remove his prisoner to the boats, then the

clamors of women, not less eloquent in the wigwam of the savage, than

in the household of the pale faces, became equally wild and general. The

Paracoussi had but one wife, foregoing, in this respect, some of his

princely privileges, to which the customs of the red-men afforded a

sufficient sanction. But there were many females in the royal dwelling,

all of whom echoed the tumultuous cries of its mistress. This devoted

woman, with her attendants, accompanied the captive to the boats, where,

following the precautions adopted by D'Erlach, the Frenchmen arrived in

safety. The warriors of the red-men had not yet time to gather and array

themselves. Laudonniere gave the women and immediate companions of the

Paracoussi to understand that his purpose was not to do his captive any

injury. The French were hungry and must have food. When a sufficient

supply was brought them, Olata Utina should be set free.

But these assurances they did not believe. They themselves, seldom set

free their captives. Ordinarily, they slew all their male prisoners

taken by surprise or in war, reserving the young females only. They

naturally supposed, that what was the custom with them, founded upon

sufficient reasons, at once of fear and superstition, must be the custom

with the white men also. Accordingly, the queen of Utina, was not to be

comforted. She followed him to the river banks, clinging to him to the

last, and stood there ringing her hands and filling the air with her

shrieks, while the people of Laudonniere lifted him into the bark, and

pushed out to the middle of the river. It was well for them that this

precaution was taken. The warriors of the Paracoussi were already

gathering in great numbers. More than five hundred of them showed

themselves on the banks of the river, entreating of Laudonniere to draw

nigh that they might behold their prince. They brought tidings that,

taking advantage of his captivity, the inveterate Potanou had suddenly

invaded his chief village, had sacked and fired it, destroying all the

persons whom he encountered. But Laudonniere was properly suspicious,

and soon discovered, that, while five hundred archers showed themselves

to him as suppliants, the shores were lined with thrice five hundred in

snug ambush, lying close for the signal of attack. Failing to beguile

the Frenchmen to the land, a few of them, in small canoes, ventured out

to the bark in which their king was a prisoner, bringing him food--meal

and peas, and their favorite beverage, the cassina tea. Small supplies

were brought to the Frenchmen also; but without softening their hearts.

Laudonniere had put his price upon the head of his captive, and would

'bate nothing of his ransom.

But it so happened, that the Indians were quite as suspicious and

inflexible as the Frenchmen. They believed that Laudonniere only aimed

to draw from them their stores, and then destroy their sovereign. A

singular circumstance, illustrative of the terrible relations in which

all savage tribes must stand toward each other, even when they dwell

together in near neighborhood, occurred at this time, and increased the

doubts and fears of the people of Utina. As soon as it was rumored

about that this mighty potentate, whom they all so much dreaded, was a

prisoner to the white man, the chiefs of the hostile tribes gathered to

the place of his captivity, as the inhabitant of the city goes to behold

in the menagerie the great lion of Sahara, the lord of the desert, of

whom, when free in his wild ranges, it shook their hearts only to hear

the roar. With head erect, though with chains about his limbs,--with

heart haughty, though with hope humbled to the dust--the proud

Paracoussi sate unmoved while they gathered, gazing upon him with a

greedy malice that declared a long history of scorn and tyranny on the

one hand, and hate and painful submission on the other. They walked

around the lordly savage, scarcely believing their eyes, and still with

a secret fear, lest, in some unlucky moment, he should break loose from

his captivity, and resume his weapon for the purposes of vengeance.

Eagerly and earnestly did they plead with Laudonniere either to put him

to death, or to deliver him to their tender mercies. Among those who

came to see and triumph over his ancient enemy, and, if possible, to get

him into his power, was the Paracoussi Satouriova, one of Laudonniere's

first acquaintances, whose power, perhaps, along the territories of May

River, was only next to that of Utina. He, as well as the rest of the

chiefs, brought bribes of maize and beans, withheld before, in order to

persuade Laudonniere to yield to their desires. In this way he procured

supplies, much beyond those which were furnished by the people of the

prisoner, though still greatly disproportioned to his wants. The people

of Utina, meanwhile, persuaded that their monarch could not escape the

sacrifice, and aware of the several and strong influences brought to

bear upon his captors, proceeded to do that which was likely to defeat

all the hopes and calculations of the French. Their chiefs assembled in

the Council House, assuming that Utina was dead already, and elected

another for their sovereign, from among his sons. The measure was a

hasty one, ill considered, and promised to lead to consequences the most

injurious to the nation. The new prince immediately took possession of

the royal wigwam, and began the full assertion of his authority. Parties

were instantly formed among the tribes, from among the many who were

dissatisfied with this assumption, and, but for the great efforts of

the nobles of the country, the chiefs, the affair would have found

its finish in a bloody social war; since, already had one of the near

kinsmen of Olata Utina set up a rival claim to the dominion of his

people.

But, it was sufficient that the election of the son of their captive,

to the throne of his father, rendered unavailing the bold experiment of

the Frenchmen, and threatened to defeat all the hopes which they had

founded on the securing his person. The savages had adopted the most

simple of all processes, and the most satisfactory, by which to baffle

the invaders. Olata Utina was an old man, destined, in the ordinary

course of nature, to give way in a short time to the very successor they

had chosen. Why should they make any sacrifices to procure the freedom

of one whom they did not need. Their reverence for royalty in exile was

hardly much greater than it is found to-day in civilized Europe; and

they resigned themselves to the absence of Olata Utina with a philosophy

duly proportioned to the quantities of corn and peas which they should

save by the happy thought which had already found a successor to his

sway. In due degree with their resignation to the chapter of accidents,

however, was the mortification of our Frenchmen, who thus found

themselves cut off from all the hopes which they had built upon their

bold proceeding. They had made open enemies of a powerful race, without

reaping those fruits of their offence, which might have reconciled them

to its penalties. Still they suffered in camp as well as in garrison,

from want of food, and were allowed to entertain no expectations from

the anxieties of the savages in regard to the fate of the captive

monarch. His importance naturally declined in the elevation of his

successor. Whether governed by policy or indifference, his people

betrayed but little sympathy in his condition; and though keeping

him still in close custody, treating him with kindness the while,

Laudonniere was compelled to seek elsewhere for provisions. Apprised by

certain Indians that, in the higher lands above, but along the river,

there were some fields of maize newly ripening, he took a detachment

of his men in boats and proceeded thither. Coming to a village called

Enecaque, he was hospitably entertained by the sister of Utina, by whom

it was governed. She gave him good cheer, a supper of mil, beans, and

fish, with gourds of savory tea, made of cassina. Here it was found that

the maize was indeed ripe: but the hungry Frenchmen suffered by the

discovery and their own rapacity. They fastened upon it in its fresh

state, without waiting for the slow process of cooking, to disarm it of

its hurtful juices, and they became sick accordingly. Yet how could men

be reproached for excess, who had scarcely eaten for four days, and

for whom a portion of the food that silenced hunger during this time,

consisted of a dish of young puppies newly whelped.

While on this expedition, it occurred to Laudonniere to revenge upon the

lord of Edelano, the cruel murder of his soldier, Peter Gambier, whose

story has been given in previous pages. He was now drawing nigh to that

beautiful island; and after leaving Enecaque, he turned his prows in

search of its sweet retreats. But, with all his caution, the bird had

flown. The lord of Edelano had been advised of what he had to fear, and,

at the approach of the Frenchmen he disappeared, crossing the stream

between, to the opposite forests, and leaving his village at the mercy

of the enemy. Baffled of their revenge upon the offender, the Frenchmen

vented their fury upon his empty dwellings. The torch was applied to the

village, which was soon consumed. Returning to Enecaque, Laudonniere

swept its fields of all their grain, with which he hastened back to his

starving people at La Caroline. These, famishing still, "seeing me afar

off coming, ranne to that side of the river where they thought I would

come on land; for hunger so pinched them to the heart, that they could

not stay until the victuals were brought them to the fort. And that they

well showed as soon as I was come, and had distributed that little maize

among them which I had given to each man, before I came out of the

barke; for they eate it before they had taken it out of the huske."

The necessity of the garrison continued as great as ever. The wretched

fields of the red-men afforded very scanty supplies. Other villages were

sought and ransacked, those of Athoré, swayed by King Emola, and those

of a Queen named Nia Cubacani. In ravaging the fields of the former,

two of the Frenchmen were slain. But the provisions got from Queen

Nia Cubacani, were all free gifts. The pale faces seem to have been

favorites with the female sovereigns wherever they went. In the

adventures of the Huguenots, as in those of the Spaniards under Hernan

de Soto and other chiefs, the smiles of the Apalachian women seemed to

have been bestowed as freely as were the darts and arrows of their lords

and masters. In this way was the path of enterprise stripped of many of

its thorns, and he whose arm was ever lifted against the savage man,

seldom found the heart of the savage woman shut against his approach.

This is a curious history, but it seems to mark usually the fortunes of

the superior, invading the abodes of the inferior people. The women of

a race are always most capable of appreciating the social morals of a

superior.

The Paracoussi Olata Utina, now made an effort to obtain his liberty.

The hopes of the Frenchmen, in respect to his ransom, had failed.

His people had shown a stubbornness, which, to do the Indian monarch

justice, had not been greater than his own. He saw the poverty and

distress which prevailed among his captors, in spite of all their

attempts at concealment. He saw that the lean and hungry famine was

still preying upon their hearts. He said to Laudonniere--

"Of what avail is it to you or to me, that you hold me here a captive?

Take me to my people. The maize is probably ripened in my fields. One of

these shall be set aside for your use wholly, with all its store of corn

and beans, if you will set me free in my own country."

Laudonniere consulted with his chief men. They concurred in granting the

petition of the Paracoussi. The two barks were accordingly fitted out,

and, with a select detachment, Laudonniere proceeded with his captive

to a place called Patica, some eight or nine leagues distant from the

village of Utina. The red-men fled at their approach, seeking cover in

the forests, though their king, himself, cried to them to await his

coming. To pursue them was impossible. To trust the king out of their

possession, without any equivalent, was impolitic. Another plan was

pursued. One of the sons of the Paracoussi, a mere boy, had been taken

with his father. It was now determined to dismiss this boy to the

village, accompanied by one of the Frenchmen, who had been thither

before, and who knew the character and condition of the country. His

instructions were to restore the boy to his mother and his kindred, and

to say that his father should be delivered also, if an adequate supply

of provisions was brought to the vessel. The ancient chronicle, briefly,

but very touchingly, describes the welcome which was given to the

enfranchised child. All were delighted to behold him, the humblest

making as much of him as if he had been the nearest kindred, and each

man thinking himself never so happy as when permitted to touch him with

his hand. The wife of Utina, with her father, came to the barks of the

Frenchmen, bringing bread for the present wants of the company; but

the policy of the Indians did not suffer the pleadings of the woman to

prevail. The parties could not agree about the terms of ransom; the

red-men, meanwhile, practised all their arts to delay the departure of

the vessels. It was discovered that they were busy with their forest

strategy, seeking rather to entrap the captain of the French, than

to bargain for the recovery of their own chieftain. Laudonniere was

compelled finally to return with his prisoner to La Caroline, as hungry

as ever, and with no hopes of the future.

Here, a new danger awaited the captive. Furious at their disappointment,

the starving Frenchmen, as soon as the failure of the enterprise was

known, armed themselves, and with sword and matchlock assailed the

little cavalcade which had the chief in custody, as they were about to

disembark. With gaunt visages and staring eyes, that betrayed terribly

the cruel famine under which they were perishing, and cries of such

terrible wrath, as left but little doubt of the direst purpose, they

darted upon their prey. But Laudonniere manfully interposed himself,

surrounded by his best men, between their rage and his victim. Captain

La Vasseur and Ensign D'Erlach, each seized upon a mutineer whom they

held ready to slay at a stroke given; and other good men and true,

coming to the rescue, the famishing mutineers were shamed and frightened

into forbearance. But bitterly did they complain of the lack of wisdom

in their captain, who had released the son, the precious hope of the

nation, retaining the sire, for whom, having a new king, the savages

cared nothing. Their murmurs drove Laudonniere forth once more. Taking

the Paracoussi with him, after a brief delay, he proceeded to explore

other villages along the river. The red-men planted two crops during the

growing season. Their maize ripened gradually, and fields that yielded

nothing during one month, were in full grain in that ensuing. For

fifteen days the French commandant continued his explorations with small

success; when the Paracoussi, whom nothing had daunted, of his proper

and haughty firmness, during all his captivity, once more appealed to

his captors:

"That my people did not supply you with maize and beanes when you sought

them last, was because they were not ripe. I spake to you then as a

foolish young man, anxious to set foot once more among my people. I

should have known that the grain could not be ready then for gathering.

But the season is now. It is ripened everywhere, and, in the present

abundance of my people, they will gladly yield to your demands, and give

full ransom for their king. Take me thither then, once more, and my

people will not stick to give you ample victual."

The necessities of the French were too great to make them hesitate at

a renewal of the attempt, where all others had proved so profitless;

particularly when the old king, with some solemnity, placing his hand

upon the wrist of the French captain, said to him--

"Brother, doubt me not--doubt not my people. If they answer thee not to

thy expectations as well as mine, bring me back to thy people, and let

them do with me even as they please?"

Again was the Paracoussi brought into the presence of his subjects. They

assembled to meet him on the banks of a little river, which emptied into

the main stream, and to which Laudonniere had penetrated in his vessels.

They appeared with considerable supplies of bread, fish and beans, which

they shared among the Frenchmen. They put on the appearance of great

good feeling and friendship, and entered into the negotiations for the

release of their king, with equal frankness and eagerness. But in all

this they exhibited only the consummate hypocrisy of their race;--a

hypocrisy not to be wondered at or complained of, as it is the only

natural defence which a barbarous people can ever possibly oppose to

the superior power of civilization. Their effort was simply still so to

beguile the Frenchmen, as to ensnare their leader,--get _him_ within

their power, and then compel an exchange with his people of chief for

chief. For this purpose they prolonged the negotiations. Small supplies

of food, enough to provoke expectation, without satisfying demand, were

brought daily to their visitors. But, in the meantime, their warriors

began to accumulate along the shores, covered in the neighboring

thickets, or crouching in patient watch along the reedy tracts that

fringed the river. The vigilant eye of Alphonse D'Erlach soon detected

the ambush; and at length, finding Laudonniere preparing to leave

them, still keeping their king a captive, the savages resumed their

negotiations with more activity, and withdrew their archers from the

neighborhood.

It must not be supposed that their love for their monarch was small,

because they showed themselves so slow in bringing the humble ransom of

corn and beans, which the French demanded. To them, that ransom was by

no means insignificant. It swept their granaries. It took the food from

their children. It drove them into the woods in winter without supplies,

leaving them to the rigors of the season, the uncertainties of the

chase, and with no other dependence than the common mast of the forest.

It deprived them of the very seed from which future harvests were to be

gathered. The drain for the supply of the hungry mouths at La Caroline,

seemed to them perpetual, and Laudonniere aimed now not only to meet

the wants of the present, but to store ships and fort against future

necessities. It was of the last importance to the people of Olata Utina,

that they should recover their king without subjecting their people

to the horrors of such a famine as was preying upon the vitals of the

Frenchmen.

They over-reached Laudonniere at last. They persuaded him that the

presence of the king, among his people, was necessary to compel each

man to bring in his subsidy;--that they must see him, in his former

abodes, freed entirely from bonds, before they would recognize his

authority;--that they feared, when they should have brought their grain,

that the French would still retain their captive;--and, in short,

insisted so much upon the freedom of Utina, as the _sine quâ non_, that

the doubts of Laudonniere were overcome. It was agreed that two chiefs

should become hostages for Olata Utina, and, in guaranty of the

fulfilment of his pledges.

We are not told of the exact amount of ransom required for the surrender

of their king. It was probably enormous, according to the equal

standards of Indian and Frenchmen, in this period and region. Willingly

came the two chiefs to take the place of Olata Utina. They were admitted

on board the bark, where he was kept in chains. They were warriors, and

as they approached him, they broke their bows and arrows across, and

threw them before him: Then, as they beheld his bonds, they rushed to

his feet, lifted up and kissed his chains, and supported them, while the

Frenchmen unlocked them from the one captive to transfer them to the

hands and feet of those who came to take his place. These looked not

upon the bonds as they were riveted about their limbs. They only watched

the movements of their king with eyes that declared a well-satisfied

delight. He rose from his place, and shook himself slowly, as a lion

might be supposed to do, rousing himself after sleep. Never was head so

erect, or carriage so like one who feels all his recovered greatness.

He waved his hand in signal to the shore, where hundreds of his people

were assembled to greet his deliverance.

The signal was understood, a mantle of fringed and gorgeously-dyed

cotton was brought him by one of his sons. His macana, or war-club, and

a mighty bow from which he could deliver a shaft more than five English

feet in length, were also brought him. Over his shoulder the mantle was

thrown by one of his attendants. The war-club was carried before him by

a page. But, before he left the vessel, he bent his bow, fixed one of

the shafts upon the deer sinews, which formed the cord, and drawing it

to its head, sent it high in air, until it disappeared for a few seconds

from the sight. This was a signal to his people. Their king, like the

arrow, was freed from its confinement. It had gone like a bird of mighty

wing, into the unchained atmosphere. A cloud of arrows from the shore

followed that of their sovereign. To this succeeded a great shout of

thanks and deliverance--"He! He! yo-he-wah! He--he--yo-he-wah." The echo

of which continued to ring through the vaulted forests, long after the

Paracoussi had disappeared within their green recesses.

CHAPTER III.

The Paracoussi, on parting with Laudonniere, renewed his assurances of

good will, and repeated the promises which had been given to ensure

his deliverance from captivity. The engagement required that a certain

number of days should be allowed him, in which to gather supplies in

sufficient quantity to discharge his ransom. Laudonniere left his

lieutenants, Ottigny and D'Erlach, with the two hostages, in one of the

barks, to receive the provisions which Utina was to furnish, while he

himself returned to La Caroline. The lieutenants moored their vessel

within a little creek which emptied into the May, and adopted all

necessary precautions against savage artifice. The vigilance of Alphonse

D'Erlach, in particular, was sleepless. He knew, more certainly than his

superior, the necessities and dangers of the French, and the subtlety of

the Indians. By day and night they lurked in the contiguous thickets,

watchful of every opportunity for assault. An arquebuse presented in

wantonness against the ledge which skirted the river, would frequently

expel a group of shrieking warriors, well armed and covered with the war

paint; and, with the dawn of morning, the first thing to salute the eyes

of our Frenchmen would be long strings of arrows, planted in the earth,

their barbs of flint turned upwards, from which long hairs shreds from

heads which had been shorn for war, were to be seen waving in the wind.

These were signs, too well understood by previous experience, of a

threatened and sleepless hostility.

It was soon found that the Paracoussi either could not or would not

comply with his engagements. He sent a small supply of grain to the

lieutenant, but said that more could not be provided except by a

surrender of the hostages. The Frenchmen were required to bring the

captives to the village, when and where they should be furnished with

the full amount of the promised ransom. Satisfied that all this was mere

pretence, indicating purposes of treachery, the Frenchmen were yet too

much straitened by want to forego any enterprise which promised them

provisions. They, accordingly, set forth for the place appointed, in

two separate bodies, marching so that they might support each other

promptly, under the several leads of D'Erlach and Ottigny. The former

held the advance. The village of Utina was six French leagues from

the river where they left their barque, and the route which they were

compelled to pursue was such as exposed them frequently to the perils

of ambuscade. But so vigilant was their watch, so ready were they with

matches lighted, and so close was the custody in which they kept their

hostages, that the Indians, whom they beheld constantly flitting through

the thickets, dared never make any attempt upon them. They reached the

village in safety, and immediately proceeded to the dwelling-house of

Olata Utina, raised, as before described, upon an artificial eminence.

Here they found assembled all the chiefs of the nation; but the

Paracoussi was not among them. He kept aloof, and was not to be seen at

present by the Frenchmen. His chiefs received their visitors with smiles

and great professions; but, as their own proverb recites, when the enemy

smiles your scalp is in danger. They pointed to great sacks of mil and

beans which had already been accumulated, and still they showed the

Frenchmen where hourly came other of their subjects adding still more

to the pile.

"But wherefore," they demanded, "wherefore come our white brethren, with

the fire burning in their harquebuses? See they not that it causes our

women to be afraid, and our children to tremble in their terror. Let our

brethren put out this fire, which makes them dread to come nigh with

their peace-offerings, and know us for a friend, under whose tongue

there is no serpent."

To this D'Erlach replied--"Our red brothers do themselves wrong. They

do not fear the fire in our harquebuses. They know not its danger. The

Frenchmen have always forborne to show them the power that might make

them afraid. But this power is employed only against our enemies.

Let the chiefs of the people of the Paracoussi Utina show themselves

friends, and the thunder which we carry shall only send its fearful

bolts among the foes of Utina, the people of Potanou, and the warriors

of the great mountain of Apalatchy."

"If we are thus friends of the Frenchmen, why do they keep our beloved

men in bondage? Are these the ornaments proper to a warrior and a great

chief among his people?"

They pointed as they spoke to the fetters which embraced the legs and

arms of the hostages, who sat in one corner of the council-house.

"Our red brothers have but to speak, and these chains fall from the

limbs of their well beloved chiefs."

"Heh!--We speak!--Let them fall!"

"Speak to your people that these piles be complete," pointing to the

grain.

"They have heard. See you not they come?"

"But very slowly;--and hearken to us now, brothers of the red-men, while

we ask,--do the skies that pavilion the territories of the Paracoussi

Utina rain down such things as these."

Here D'Erlach showed them a bunch of the arrows which they had found

planted by the wayside as they came. The thin lips of the savages parted

into slight smiles as they beheld them.

"These grow not by nature," continued D'Erlach; "they fall not from

heaven in the heavy showers. They are sown by the red-men along the path

which the white man travels. What is the fruit which is to grow from

such seed as this?"

The chiefs were silent. The youth proceeded:

"Brothers, we are calm;--we are not angry, though we well know what

these arrows mean. We are patient, for we know our own strength. The

Paracoussi has promised us supplies of grain, and hither we have come.

Four days shall we remain in waiting for it. Till that time, these

well-beloved men shall remain in our keeping. When we receive the

supplies which have been promised us, they shall be yours. We have

spoken."

Thus ended the first conference. That night the French lieutenants found

their way to the presence of the Paracoussi. He was kept concealed in a

small wigwam, deeply embowered in the woods, but in near and convenient

neighborhood to the village. He himself had sent for them, and one of

his sons had shown the way. They found the old monarch still maintaining

the state of a prince, but he was evidently humbled. His captivity had

lessened his authority; and his anxiety to comply with the engagements

made with the French had in some degree impaired his influence over

his people. They had resolved to destroy the pale-faces, as insolent

invaders of their territory, consumers of its substance and enemies

of its peace. It was this hostility and this determination that had

interposed all the obstacles in the way of procuring the supplies

promised.

"They resist me, their Paracoussi," said Utina bitterly, "and have

resolved on fighting with you! They will wage war against you to the

last. See you not the planted arrows that marked your pathway to my

village? These arrows are planted from the territories of Utina, by

every pathway, to the very gates of La Caroline. They will meet your

eyes wherever you shall return to the fortress. They mean nothing less

than war, and such warfare as admits of no peace. Go you, therefore, go

you with all speed to your vessels, and make what haste you can to the

garrison. The woods swarm with my warriors, and they no longer heed

my voice. They will hunt you to your vessel. They mean to throw trees

athwart the creek so that her escape may be cut off, while they do

you to death with their arrows, and I cannot be there to say to my

people--'stay your shafts, these be our friends and allies.' They no

longer hearken to my voice. I am a Paracoussi without subjects, a ruler

without obedience,--a shadow, where I only used to be the substance."

The despondency of the king was without hypocrisy. It sensibly impressed

our Frenchmen. They felt that he spoke the truth. He was then, in fact,

excluded from the house of council, as incurring the suspicion of the

red-men as fatally friendly to the whites. While they still conversed,

they were alarmed by violent shrieks, as of one in mortal terror.

"That scream issues from a French throat!" exclaimed D'Erlach, as he

rushed forth. He was followed by Lieutenant Ottigny and another.

The Paracoussi never left his seat. The screams guided them into a

neighboring thicket, into which they hurried, arriving there not a

moment too soon. A Frenchman struggled in the grasp of five stalwart

savages, who had him down and were preparing to cut his throat. He had

been beguiled from the place which had been assigned him as a watch, and

was about to pay the penalty of his folly with his life. In an instant

the gallant Alphonse D'Erlach had sprung among them, his sword passing

clear through the back of the most prominent in the group of assailants.

His body, falling upon that of the captive, prevented the blows which

the rest were showering upon him. They started in sudden terror at this

interruption. Their own and the clamors of the Frenchman had kept them

from all knowledge of the approaching rescue. In an instant they were

gone. They waited for no second stroke from a weapon whose first address

was so sharp and sudden. They left their captive, bruised and groaning,

but without serious injury to life or limb.

The warnings and assurances of the Paracoussi were sufficiently enforced

by this instance of the hostility of the red-men. But the necessity of

securing all the supplies they might possibly procure from the natives,

either through their own artifices or because of the apprehension for

their chiefs, caused our Frenchmen to linger at the village of Utina.

They were determined to wait the full period of four days which they had

assigned themselves. In this period they saw the Paracoussi more than

once. At each interview his admonitions were delivered with increased

solemnity. They found his chiefs less and less accommodating at every

interview. The piles of grain at the council-house increased slowly.

Occasionally an Indian might be seen to enter and cast the contents of

his little basket among the rest. The Frenchmen endeavored to persuade

the chiefs to furnish men to carry the grain to their vessel, but this

was flatly denied. Resolved, finally, to depart, each soldier was

required to load himself with a sack as well filled as it was consistent

with his strength to bear. This was slung across his shoulder, and, in

this way, burdened with food for other mouths as well as their own, and

carrying their matchlocks besides, the Frenchmen prepared to depart, on

the morning of the 27th July, 1565, from the village of Utina to the

bark which they had left. It was a memorable day for our adventurers.

In groups, scornfully smiling as they beheld the soldiers staggering

beneath their burdens, the chiefs assembled to see them depart from the

village. Alphonse D'Erlach beheld the malignant triumph which sparkled

in their eyes.

"We shall not be suffered to reach the bark in quiet;" was his remark to

Ottigny. "Let me have the advance, Monsieur, if you please; I have dealt

with the dogs before."

To this Ottigny consented; and leading one of the divisions of the

detachment, as at coming, D'Erlach prepared to take the initiate in a

progress, every part of which was destined to be marked with strife.

The immediate entrance to the village of the Paracoussi, the only path,

indeed, by which our Frenchmen could emerge, lay, for nearly half a

mile, through a noble avenue, the sides of which were densely occupied

by a most ample and umbrageous forest. The trees were at once great and

lofty, and the space beneath was closed up with a luxuriant undergrowth

which spread away like a wall of green on either hand. D'Erlach

remembered this entrance.

"Here," said he to Ottigny, "Here, at the very opening of the path,

our trouble is likely to begin. Let your men be prepared with matches

lighted, and see that your fire is delivered only in squads, so that, at

no time, shall all of your pieces be entirely empty."

Ottigny prepared to follow this counsel. His men were all apprised of

what they had to expect; and were told, at the first sign of danger,

to cast down their corn bags, and betake themselves to their weapons

wholly. The grain might be lost--probably would be--but better this,

than, in a vain endeavor to preserve it, lose life and grain together.

Thus prepared, D'Erlach began the march. He was followed, at a short

interval, by Ottigny, with the rest of the detachment; a small force of

eight arquebusiers excepted, who, under charge of a sergeant, were sent

to the left of the thicket which bounded the avenue on one hand, with

instructions to scour the woods in that quarter, yet without passing

beyond reach of help from the main body.

All fell out as had been anticipated. D'Erlach was encountered as he

emerged from the avenue, by a force of three hundred Indians. They

poured in a cloud of arrows, but fortunately at such a distance as to

do little mischief. With the first assault the Frenchmen dispossessed

themselves of their burdens, and prepared themselves for fight. The

savages came on more boldly, throwing in fresh flights of arrows as

they pushed forward, and rending the forests with their cries. D'Erlach

preserved all his steadiness and coolness. He saw that the arrows were

yet comparatively ineffectual.

"Do not answer them yet, my good fellows," he cried, "but stoop ye,

every man, and break the arrows, as many as ye can, that fall about ye."

He had seen that the savages, having delivered a few fires, were wont

to rush forward and gather up the spent shafts, which, thus recovered,

afforded them an inexhaustible armory, upon which it is their custom to

rely. When his assailants beheld how his men were engaged, they rushed

forward with loud shouts of fury, and delivering another storm of darts,

they made demonstrations of a desire for close conflict, with their

stone hatchets and macanas. At this show, D'Erlach spoke to his men in

subdued accents.

"Make ye still as if ye would stoop for the fallen arrows, ye of the

first rank; but blow ye your matches even as ye do so, and falling upon

your knees deliver then your fire; while the second rank will cover you

as ye do so, and while ye charge anew your pieces."

The command was obeyed with coolness; and, as the Indians darted

forward, coming in close packed squadrons into the gorge of the avenue,

the soldiers delivered their fire with great precision. Dreadful was

the howl which followed it, for more than thirteen of the savages had

fallen, mortally hurt, and two of their chief warriors had been made to

bite the dust. Seizing the bodies of their slain and wounded comrades,

the survivors immediately hurried into cover, and D'Erlach at once

pushed forward with his command. But he had not advanced more than four

hundred paces, when the assault was renewed, the air suddenly being

darkened with the flight of bearded shafts, while the forest rang with

the yells of savage fury. They were still too far for serious mischief,

and were besides covered with the woods; so, giving the assailants

little heed, except to observe that they came not too nigh, or too

suddenly upon him, D'Erlach continued to push forward, doing as he had

done before with the hostile arrows whenever they lay in the pathway.

But the courage of the red-men increased as they warmed in the struggle,

and they grew bolder because of the very forbearance of the Frenchmen.

Besides, their forces had been increased by other bodies, each

approaching in turn to the assault, so as to keep their enemies

constantly busy. In parties of two or three hundred, they darted from

their several ambushes, and having discharged their arrows, and met with

repulse, retired rapidly to other favorite places of concealment to

renew the conflict as it continued to advance. By this time, the whole

body of the Frenchmen had become engaged in the fight. The force under

Ottigny, following the example of that led by D'Erlach, had succeeded in

pressing forward, though not without loss, while making great havoc with

the red-men. These people fought, never men more bravely; and, but for

the happy thought, that of destroying their arrows as fast as they fell,

it is probable that the detachment had never reached La Caroline. They

hovered thus about the march of the Frenchmen all the day, encouraging

each other with shouts of vengeance and delight, and sending shaft upon

shaft, with an aim, which, had they not been too greatly sensible of

the danger of the arquebuse, to come sufficiently nigh, would have been

always fatal. Yet well did the savage succeed, so long as they remained

unintoxicated by their rage, in dodging the aim of the weapon. As

Laudonniere writes--"All the while they had their eye and foot so

quicke and readie, that as soone as ever they saw the harquebuse raised

to the cheeke, so soon were they on the ground, and eftsoone to answer

with their bowes, and to flie their way, if by chance they perceived

that we were about to take them."

This conflict lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until night. It

only ceased when the darkness separated the combatants. Even then,

but for the deficiency of their arrows, they probably would not have

withdrawn from the field. It was late in the night when the Frenchmen

reached their boats, weary and exhausted, their grain wrested from them,

their hostages rescued, and twenty-four of their number killed and

wounded. The Floridians had shown themselves warriors of equal spirit

and capacity. The determined exclusion of their Paracoussi from counsels

which it was feared that he would dishonor, their manly resistance to

the white invaders, their scornful ridicule of their necessities, their

proud defiance of their power, and the fierce and unrelenting hostility

with which they had chased their adversaries, remind us irresistibly of

the degradation of Montezuma by his subjects, their prolonged warfare

with the Spaniards, their sleepless hostility, and that bloody struggle

which first drove them over the causeways of Tenochtitlan. The inferior

state and wealth of the Paracoussi, Olata Ouvae Utina, constitutes no

such sufficient element of difference, as to lessen the force of the

parallel between himself and people, and those of the Atzec sovereign.

XX.

IRACANA,

OR THE EDEN OF THE FLORIDIAN.

The disasters which befel his detachment, brought Laudonniere to

his knees. He had now been humbled severely by the dispensations of

Providence--punished for that disregard of the things most important to

the colonization of a new country, which, in his insane pursuit of

the precious metals, had marred his administration. His misfortunes

reminded him of his religion.

"Seeing, therefore, mine hope frustrate on that side, I made my prayer

unto God, and thanked him of his grace which he had showed unto my poore

souldiers which were escaped."

But his prayers did not detain him long. The necessities of the colony

continued as pressing as ever. "Afterward, I thought upon new meanes to

obtaine victuals, as well for our returne into France, as to drive out

the time untill our embarking." Those were meditations of considerable

difficulty. The petty fields of the natives, never contemplated with

reference to more than a temporary supply of food;--never planted with

reference to providing for a whole year, were really inadequate to the

wants of such a body of men, unless by grievously distressing their

proprietors. The people of Olata Utina had been moved to rage in all

probability, quite as much because of their grain crops, about to be

torn from them, as with any feeling of indignation in consequence of the

detention of their Paracoussi. In the sacks of corn which the Frenchmen

bore away upon their shoulders, they beheld the sole provisions upon

which, for several months, their women and children had relied to

feed; and their quick imaginations were goaded to desperation, as they

depicted the vivid horrors of a summer consumed in vain search after

crude roots and indigestible berries, through the forests. No wonder the

wild wretches fought to avert such a danger; as little may we wonder

that they fought successfully. The Frenchmen, compelled to cast down

their sacks of grain, to use their weapons, the red-men soon repossessed

themselves of all their treasure. When Laudonniere reviewed his

harrassed soldiers on their return from this expedition, "all the mill

that he found among his company came but to two men's burdens." To

attempt to recover the provisions thus wrested from them, or to revenge

themselves for the indignity and injury they had undergone, were equally

out of the question. The people of the Paracoussi could number their

thousands; and, buried in their deep fortresses of forest, they could

defy pursuit. Laudonniere was compelled to look elsewhere for the

resources which should keep his company from want.

Two leagues distant from La Caroline, on the opposite side of May River,

stood the Indian village of Saravahi. Not far from this might be seen

the smokes of another village, named Emoloa. The Frenchmen, wandering

through the woods in search of game, had alighted suddenly upon these

primitive communities. Here they had been received with gentleness and

love. The natives were lively and benevolent. They had never felt

the wrath of the white man, nor been made to suffer because of his

improvidence and necessities. His thunderbolts had never hurled among

their columns, and mown them down as with a fiery scythe from heaven.

The Frenchmen did not fail to remark that they were provident tribes,

with corn-fields much more ample than were common among the Indians.

These, they now concluded, must be covered with golden grain, in the

season of harvest, and thither, accordingly, Laudonniere dispatched

his boats. A judicious officer conducted the detachment, and stores of

European merchandize were confided to him for the purposes of traffic.

He was not disappointed in his expectations. His soldiers were received

with open arms; and a "good store of mil," speaking comparatively, was

readily procured from the abundance of the Indians.

But, in preparation for the return to France, other and larger supplies

were necessary. The boats were again made ready, and confided to La

Vasseur and D'Erlach. They proceeded to the river to which the French

had given their name of Somme, now known as the Satilla, but which was

then called among the Indians, the Iracana, after their own beautiful

queen. Of this queen our Frenchmen had frequently been told. She

had been described to them as the fairest creature, in the shape of

woman, that the country had beheld: nor was the region over which she

swayed, regarded with less admiration. This was spoken of as a sort of

terrestrial paradise. Here, the vales were more lovely; the waters more

cool and pellucid than in any other of the territories of earth. Here,

the earth produced more abundantly than elsewhere; the trees were more

stately and magnificent, the flowers more beautiful and gay, and the

vines more heavily laden with grapes of the most delicious flavor.

Sweetest islets rose along the shore over which the moon seemed to

linger with a greater fondness, and soft breezes played ever in the

capacious forests, always kindling to emotions of pleasure, the soft

beatings of the delighted heart. The influences of scene and climate

were felt for good amongst the people who were represented at once as

the most generous and gentle of all the Floridian natives. They had

no wild passions, and coveted no fierce delights. Under the sway of a

woman, at once young and beautiful, the daughter of their most favorite

monarch, their souls had become attuned to sympathies which greatly

tended to subdue and to soothe the savage nature. Their lives were spent

in sports and dances. No rebukes or restraints of duty, no sordid cares

or purposes, impaired the dream of youth and rapture which prevailed

everywhere in the hearts of the people. Gay assemblages were ever to be

found among the villages in the forests; singing their own delights and

imploring the stranger to be happy also. They had a thousand songs and

sports of youth and pleasure, which made life a perpetual round of ever

freshening felicity. Innocent as wild, no eye of the ascetic could

rebuke enjoyments which violated no cherished laws of experience and

thought, and their glad and sprightly dances, in the deep shadows of the

wood, to the lively clatter of Indian gourds and tambourines, were quite

as significant of harmless fancies as of thoughtless lives. Happy was

the lonely voyager, speeding along the coast, in his frail canoe, when,

suddenly darting out from the forests of Iracana, a slight but lovely

creature, with flowing tunic of white cotton, stood upon the head land,

waving her branch of palm or myrtle, entreating his approach, and

imploring him to delay his journey, while he shared in the sweet

festivities of love and youth, for a season, upon the shore,--crying

with a sweet chant,--

"Love you me not, oh, lonely voyager--love you me not? Lo! am I not

lovely; I who serve the beautiful queen of Iracana? will you not come to

me, for a while!--come, hide the canoe among the reeds, along the shore,

and make merry with the damsels of Iracana. I give to thee the palm and

the myrtle, in token of a welcome of peace and love. Come hither, oh!

lonely voyager, and be happy for a season!"

And seldom were these persuasions unavailing. The lonely voyager was

commonly won, as was he who, sailing by Scylla and Charybdis, refused to

seal his ears with wax against the song of the Syren. But our charmers,

along the banks of the Satilla, entreated to no evil, laid no snares for

the unwary, meditating their destruction. They sought only to share the

pleasures which they themselves enjoyed. The benevolence of that love

which holds its treasure as of little value, unless its delights may be

bestowed on others, was the distinguishing moral in the Indian Eden of

Iracana; and he who came with love, never departed without a sorrow,

such as made him linger as he went, and soon return, when this were

possible, to a region, which, among our Floridians, realized that period

of the Classic Fable, which has always been designated, par excellence,

as the "age of gold."

Our Frenchmen, under the conduct of La Vasseur and D'Erlach, reached the

frontiers of Iracana, at an auspicious period. The season of harvest,

among all primitive and simple nations, is commonly a season of great

rejoicing. Among a people like those of Iracana, habitually accustomed

to rejoice, it is one in which delight becomes exultation, and when in

the supreme felicity of good fortune, the happy heart surpasses itself

in the extraordinary expression of its joy. Here were assembled to

the harvest, all the great lords of the surrounding country. Here

was Athoree, the gigantic son of Satouriova, a very Anak, among the

Floridians. Here were Apalou, a famous chieftain,--Tacadocorou, and

many others, whom our Frenchmen had met and known before;--some of whom

indeed, they had known in fierce conflict, and a strife which had never

been healed by any of the gentle offices of peace.

But Iracana was the special territory of peace. It was not permitted,

among the Floridians, to approach this realm with angry purpose. Here

war and strife were tabooed things,--shut out, denied and banished, and

peace and love, and rapture, were alone permitted exercise in abodes

which were too grateful to all parties, to be desecrated by hostile

passions. When, therefore, our Frenchmen, beholding those only with

whom they had so lately fought, were fain to betake themselves to their

weapons, the chiefs themselves, with whom they had done battle, came

forward to embrace them, with open arms.

"Brothers, all--brothers here, in Iracana;" was the common speech.

"Be happy here, brothers, no fight, no scalp, nothing but love in

Iracana,--nothing but dance and be happy."

Even had not this assurance sufficed with our Frenchmen, the charms of

the lovely Queen herself, her grace and sweetness, not unmixed with

a dignity which declared her habitual rule, must have stifled every

feeling of distrust in their bosoms, and effectually exorcised that of

war. She came to meet the strangers with a mingled ease and state, a

sweetness and a majesty, which were inexpressibly attractive. She took

a hand of La Vasseur and of D'Erlach, with each of her own. A bright,

happy smile lightened in her eye, and warmed her slightly dusky features

with a glow. Rich in hue, yet delicately thin, her lips parted with a

pleasure, as she spoke to them, which no art could simulate. She bade

them welcome, joined their hands with those of the great warriors by

whom she was attended, and led them away among her damsels, of whom a

numerous array were assembled, all habited in the richest garments of

their scanty wardrobes.

The robes of the Queen herself were ample. The skirts of her dress fell

below her knees, a thing very uncommon with the women of Florida. Over

this, she wore a tunic of crimson, which descended below her hips. A

slight cincture embraced, without confining, her waist. Long strings

of sea-shell, of the smallest size, but of colors and tints the most

various and delicate, drooped across her shoulders, and were strung, in

loops and droplets, to the skirts of her dress and her symar. Similar

strings encircled her head, from which the hair hung free behind, almost

to the ground, a raven-like stream, of the deepest and most glossy

sable. Her form was equally stately and graceful--her carriage betrayed

a freedom, which was at once native and the fruit of habitual exercise.

Nothing could have been more gracious than the sweetness of her welcome;

nothing more utterly unshadowed than the sunshine which beamed in her

countenance. She led her guests among the crowd, and soon released La

Vasseur to one of the loveliest girls who came about her. Alphonse

D'Erlach she kept to herself. She was evidently struck with the singular

union of delicacy and youth with sagacity and character, which declared

itself in his features and deportment.

Very soon were all the parties engaged in the mazes of the Indian dance

of Iracana,--a movement which, unlike the waltz of the Spaniards, less

stately perhaps, and less imposing--yet requires all its flexibility and

freedom, and possesses all its seductive and voluptuous attractions.

Half the night was consumed with dancing; then gay parties could be seen

gliding into canoes and darting across the stream to other villages and

places of abode. Anon, might be perceived a silent couple gliding

away to sacred thickets; and with the sound of a mighty conch, which

strangely broke the silence of the forest, the Queen herself retired

with her attendants, having first assigned to certain of her chiefs the

task of providing for the Frenchmen. Of these she had already shown

herself sufficiently heedful and solicitous. Not sparing of her regards

to La Vasseur, she had particularly devoted herself to D'Erlach, and,

while they danced together, if the truth could be spoken of her simple

heart, great had been its pleasure at those moments, when the spirit of

the dance required that she should yield herself to his grasp, and die

away languidly in his embrace.

"Ah! handsome Frenchman," she said to her companion,--"You please me so

much."

His companions were similarly entertained. Captain La Vasseur was soon

satisfied that he too was greatly pleasing to the fair and lovely savage

who had been assigned him; and not one of the Frenchmen, but had his

share of the delights and endearments which made the business of life in

Iracana. The soldiers had each a fair creature, with whom he waltzed and

wandered; and fond discourse, everywhere in the great shadows of the

wood, between sympathizing spirits, opened a new idea of existence to

the poor Huguenots who, hitherto, had only known the land of Florida, by

its privations and its gold. The dusky damsels, alike sweet and artless,

brought back to our poor adventurers precious recollections of youthful

fancies along the banks of the Garonne and the Loire, and it is not

improbable, that, under the excitement of new emotions, had Laudonniere

proposed to transfer La Caroline to the Satilla, or Somme, instead of

May River, they might have been ready to waive, for a season at least,

their impatient desire to return to France.

Night was at length subdued to silence on the banks of the Satilla. The

sounds of revelry had ceased. All slept, and the transition from night

to day passed, sweetly and insensibly, almost without the consciousness

of the parties. But, with the sunrise, the great conch sounded in the

forest. The Eden of the Floridian did not imply a life of mere repose.

The people were gathered to their harvesting, and the labors of the day,

under the auspices of a gracious rule, were made to seem a pleasure.

Hand in hand, the Queen Iracana, with her maidens, and her guests,

followed to the maize fields. Already had she found D'Erlach, and her

slender fingers, without any sense of shame, had taken possession of

his hand, which she pressed at moments very tenderly. He had already

informed her of the wants and the sufferings of his garrison, and she

smiled with a new feeling of happiness, as she eagerly assured him that

his people should receive abundance. She bent with her own hands the

towering stalks; and, detaching the ears, flung to the ground a few

in all these places, on which it was meant that the heaps should be

accumulated. "Give these to our friends, the Frenchmen," she said,

indicating with a sweep of the hand, a large tract of the field, through

which they went. D'Erlach felt this liberality. He squeezed her fingers

fondly in return,--saying words of compliment which, possibly, in her

ear, meant something more than compliment.

Then followed the morning feast; then walks in the woods; then sports

upon the river in their canoes; and snaring the fish in weirs, in which

the Indians were very expert. Evening brought with it a renewal of the

dance, which again continued late in the night. Again did Alphonse

D'Erlach dance with Iracana; but it was now seen that her eyes saddened

with the overfulness of her heart. Love is not so much a joy as a care.

It is so vast a treasure, that the heart, possessed of the fullest

consciousness of its value, is for ever dreading its loss. The happiness

of the Floridian Eden had been of a sort which never absorbed the

soul. It lacked the intensity of a fervent passion. It was the life of

childhood--a thing of sport and play, of dance and dream--not that eager

and avaricious passion which knows never content, and is never sure,

even when most happy, from the anxieties and doubts which beset all

mortal felicity. Already did our Queen begin to calculate the hours

between the present, and that which should witness the departure of the

pleasant Frenchmen.

"You will go from me," said she to D'Erlach, as they went apart from the

rest, wandering along the banks of the river and looking out upon the

sea. "You will go from me, and I shall never see you any more."

"I will come again, noble Queen, believe me," was the assurance.

"Ah! come soon," she said, "come soon, for you please me very much,

_Aphon_."

Such was the soft Indian corruption of his christened name. No doubt,

she too gave pleasure to 'Aphon.' How could it be otherwise? How could

he prove insensible to the tender and fervid interest which she so

innocently betrayed in him? He did not. He was not insensible; and vague

fancies were quickening in his mind as respects the future. He was

opposed to the plan of returning to France. He was for carrying out the

purposes of Coligny, and fulfilling the destinies of the colony. He had

warned Laudonniere against the policy he pursued, had foreseen all the

evils resulting from his unwise counsels, and there was that in his

bosom which urged the glorious results to France, of a vigorous and just

administration of a settlement in the western hemisphere, in which he

was to participate, with his energy and forethought, without having

these perpetually baffled by the imbecility and folly of an incapable

superior. In such an event, how sweetly did his fancy mingle with his

own fortunes those of the gentle and loving creature who stood beside