Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

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."