In Search of Mademoiselle

By and by – it was a long while – for the clouds had broken and the light of the sun had gone high in the heavens – I grew better and stronger and got upon my feet. Cold and wet, the wind cut sharp as a knife, but the fever had gone, and I laughed aloud to think of the fool I had been. The situation was hopeless enough, but we were strong men, many of us bearing weapons and armor, and much might be done. When the storm abated the other ships would put in and take us aboard. All would yet be well. Even if the ships did not come we would make a forced march through the backwoods, persuading friendly Indians to guide and aid us. We might not be far – perhaps only half a dozen leagues from Fort Caroline.

I went back down the beach the wind at my back, warming with the new impulse until I was soon running again. I found I had gone near a league to the northward, and it was many minutes before I was back among the company. They had moved behind the sand dunes the better to find shelter from the wind. Fires had been kindled and around these they huddled wretchedly, drying their clothing. There was nothing to eat save a few biscuits which had been washed up in a cask, and these were salt-soaked and unpleasing to the taste. Some of the men had gone down the beach, where they found some ledges of moss and rock and brought back a few shell-fish. These they ate raw from the shells; but I was not hungry and they seemed unsightly to me, so I could find no stomach for them.

When I came up La Caille, the sergeant-major, approached.

“Well, sir,” he asked, “what do you find? Is San Augustin to the north or the south?”

“To the north, I should say. But there is nothing but sand and sea so far as the eye can reach.” He turned to De Brésac gloomily and together they walked in the direction from which I had come.

Admiral Ribault sat upon the sand, a rag binding his temples, his head bent forward upon his breast, the very presentment of misery. I went to him and tried to say a few words of good cheer. But a deep melancholy had settled upon the man, and he looked down at the sand, saying nothing. I could see that he was in no condition to speak upon any subject. I felt, God knows, keen as he the desperate plight in which we found ourselves. Yet, now that I had come to myself, I knew that sighing would not mend the matter and so went among the officers and cavaliers for counsel. These I found to be in as grievous a spirit as their Admiral. Broken in spirit and sore in body, they felt horribly the loneliness and the failure at the very beginning of a project into which they had ventured all. By and by, Job Goddard and Salvation Smith, who had gone down the beach on a voyage of discovery, returned to the camp. They had come upon two Indians and learned that San Augustin was fourteen leagues to the northward.

“I bade them stay with us for dinner to-day, Master Sydney,” said Goddard, cheerfully, “but they had no stomach for truffles of shell-fish and wet biscuit. The heathen scut! They fled to the woods as though the fiend was after them. Salvation Smith fired at them with an arquebus, but they vanished among the trees unscathed. Salvation has a better knowledge of the pike than of the arquebus, sir.”

That apostle of the Martyrs stood by, looking ruefully at the weapon he held in his hand.

“True, sir,” said he at last, “’tis a toy for women and lads. Give me a pike or a shaft and a good yew-bow and I warrant our invitations will not be so scorned another time.”

We were to the southward then! That was no pleasant information, for Menendez lay between us and the River of May; and the Indians, doubtless those of Outina, at war with the friendly Satouriona, would lose no time in letting the Spaniards know of our whereabouts and condition. Some of the gentlemen went into the forest, but came back cut by the brambles, saying they saw no beasts nor food of any kind and that they could not penetrate a rod into the thicket; we should starve before receiving any aid from that quarter. Of one thing I was soon convinced, – we could not lie long upon the beach our mouths agape with hunger and thirst. And many more of us feeling the same cravings, among them Bachasse, Arlac, De Brésac and La Caille, – late that night we persuaded the Admiral to set out upon a march up the beach.

Many things save food had been brought upon the shore, among them two trumpets, drums and two standards. And so at dawn of the next day with waving banners and beating drums, with some show of gaiety and a martial spirit – though famished – we set forth to the northward. Ribault, who walked with the rear-guard, turned at the last to where the timbers of the Trinity were scattered down the shore as far as the eye could reach. He had grown ten years older in the night and walked with Bourdelais and the Sieur de la Notte, the mere shadow of the man he had been at the Fort and upon the ship. By and by some of the Huguenots set up a martial hymn, which all the gentlemen sang with a fine good will and rhythm, keeping the cadence of the march. That seemed to put new life into them. They were like children and, drawing their swords, began looking to their weapons and jesting at the chances of the good fight which might soon be. They manfully tightened their girths to stay their hunger and each vied with the other in good humor and courage. But in the afternoon one man, a great burly calker, threw up his hands and then fell down dead. They said his heart had rotted.

It was a desperate expedition, and the reflection of the Admiral’s melancholy, in spite of some flashes of good cheer, was seen in the eyes of all who knew the obstacles before us. Any man with half a seaman’s eye could tell that any storm that had wrecked the Trinity could not fail to beach the other vessels; and few of us believed that we would be saved by them. If we could but find a break in the impenetrable forest and strike inland we might prey upon the Indians and so by an easy detour at last reach the Fort. Perhaps Menendez had put to sea again in the hope of finding us storm-beaten and unprepared for battle. If he had done this we might come quickly upon his fort at the lodge of Seloy, and by audacity and rapidity compass what mere strength or force of numbers might not effect.

This was my hope, and the Admiral took great heart when it was spoken to him. We would know upon the morrow. In the afternoon the storm-clouds blew away and the wind went down. The ocean still lashed the beach sullenly, but the horizon clouds to the eastward were tinged with pink, and with the prospect of fair weather there was much happiness. More shell-fish were found, the moisture of which cooled the palate, though the taste was unpleasing, and the saltiness made one long the more for fresh water and food. At about sunset we passed around a point of land and abruptly came upon the timbers of a vessel. The beams were split and the yellow of the splinters showed most plainly that she had been recently wrecked. A bit of the stern piece of a pinnace was found, which bore the name of the Gloire and then we knew that others of the French fleet shared our fate. In a little while we made an abrupt turn and came upon more wreckage and a large party of our shipwrecked comrades.

The worst that we had expected had happened. The French fleet was no more! I glanced at Jean Ribault. His face was pale as death, and when he saw these men before him his under-lip dropped and his mouth fell open, his eyes expressing the bitterness of soul he could not contain. He stopped short and let his head fall forward. His muscles loosened and I thought he would have fallen. But at the touch of the Sieur de la Notte at his elbow, he straightened again and casting his eyes heavenward, said tremblingly, “The will of God be done!”

But all of Ribault’s officers were not discouraged. Indeed upon the sight of so large a company many of the men and soldiers took great heart again and cried joyously to one another. The men we had found were sailors of the Gloire, who had elected to remain together upon the beach, until sighted by some French ship while the main body of their company had gone northward. Others were of the Petit-Jean and of the Jesus, which had gone ashore leagues below. We numbered now three hundred and fifty persons, and but for our hunger and the smallness of the supply of powder and ball would have been a formidable little army indeed. Captain Cosette of the Gloire, who was there, embraced the Admiral with great joy, and Bourdelais commanded a halt, for the men of the Trinity were tired out. Many of them dropped to the ground, and, forgetting their hunger and their thirst fell mercifully into a deep sleep in which they were left to rest.

I seemed to have no further sensation – even of weariness. Quiet was more irksome to me than aught else. I could not remain seated like the others but must walk up and down upon the sand. And yet I was not in a fever as before. It was easier for me to think thus upon my feet. I felt myself most calm in mind and could not understand how it should be so when every new discovery went to confirm the premonition of the doom that had hung over us like a pall since that day – years ago it seemed – when I had bade farewell to Mademoiselle upon the bastion at Fort Caroline. It all came back upon me as some dream, the stifling atmosphere, the ominous elements, the listlessness of all things human and animate upon the earth, and the misery which took the joy from those last words with my love. Then I thought of those red sunsets upon the ocean, when we had sat upon the fore-castle laughing at our ill omens and watched the great ball of fire drop down into the purple mists of the hot western sea. Such a sun there was this night – I mounted a sand hill that I might see it the better. A yellow mist rose from a swamp somewhere inland and the disk grew to a greater size than I had ever seen. Yet one could look at it squarely ere it had come to the horizon, for it was not bright and seemed not to be shining at all; only a great ball of blood poised in the air, which one might almost reach out and pluck from the sky. Then it fell down behind a line of barren pine trees at the horizon, which cut across it cold and clear as prison bars, – and in a moment was gone.

When I went back the officers of the Trinity and some of the other gentlemen had lit a fire and sat in a circle upon the sand. A council of war was held. The wilder blades were for pushing on at once. Bourdelais stood up and on behalf of the Admiral, said he, “We must be patient. To-morrow we will know something.”

“Bah!” said Arlac, angrily, “you speak of patience as though it were water or sand or anything that is easy to have. What will you know to-morrow? Sacré! Speak to us of food, if you please. Bigre! We’re hungry I tell you.”

“Yes,” growled others, “we starve. Let us die fighting at any rate.”

Some of the more moderate wished to wait until the dawn, that the men could sleep and so be fresh against any new adversity on the morrow. Others were for a rest until midnight and then a quick march to the mainland; for we did not doubt that we were on one of the many promontories which in these parts jut up and down the coast for long distances. For my part I asked nothing better than to move quickly, to the northward, or westward or which ever way would bring us soonest to our journey’s ending. So, at midnight we set forth again, the men moving uncomplaining.

By four of the morning, it being still dark, those of the company who were in advance came to a sudden halt. In a moment we were all at a standstill, peering out into the darkness over a body of water. It was a channel or sluice, through which the tide was running strongly into the sea. The line of the beach took a turn sharply to the left and follow it as we might there was no chance to gain our way to the mainland.

Across the channel from time to time we fancied we could make out the twinkling of lights, small like stars; but whether they were glow-flies or lights of lanthorns or fires upon a distant beach we could not discover. Men were at once set to work building large rafts out of small trees, upon which when day dawned we might make our way across this channel. Slowly the dawn came up out of the sea, and a faint glow spread over the sky overhead, turning it to a color deep and fathomless. One by one the lines of foam on the bar came out of the darkness until the sea was dark against the lightening sky and the stars grew fainter in the glow of coming day. It was cool and frosty – the freshness of something new begun, and the dry grasses behind us were trembling together in the morning breeze. Never did the spur of new-born day find such ready response. For the blithe Frenchmen, hungry as they were, answering readily to the crisp call of the dawn, set about putting their weapons to rights and gathered together in their companies in fine fettle.

By and by we could plainly see the low-lying beach of a shore not far distant across the channel. We seemed on a kind of cape or sand-spit, for the bay lay far around to the left and was lost in the angle of the sand dunes. There were sand dunes there, across this channel, in plenty too and bushes and hills higher than those we had passed. The sergeant-major, La Caille, the Chevalier de Brésac, and Bachasse came and stood by me, waiting until we could clearly make out the line of the coast.

Presently, upon a hill, outlined clear against the sky, his arquebus upon his shoulder and his breastpieces and helmet catching the first glint of the morning light, a soldier appeared. I fancied that my mind had played my eyes some trick. But the sergeant-major saw him at the same time; and in a moment there followed two, three, five figures who stood besides the first one pointing at us and waving their arms.

Were they friends or enemies – Protestants or Catholics? I strained my eyes to find in their garb or manner some familiar sign.

We had not long to wait, for in a moment other soldiers appeared from behind the hills and out on the air there floated the ominous standard of Spain.

CHAPTER XII.

TRUCE

La Caille started and his cry was echoed from one end of the camp to the other. Officers and men, aroused by the commotion, started up, seizing their weapons, running here and there in bewilderment. The trumpets blared and there was a clanking of steel as the sick and starving men gladly arrayed themselves in the ranks of battle. Ribault, aroused for the moment by the martial sounds and sights, marched before the company, his eyes flashing and his sword bare, giving orders in so inspiring a way that the men took great heart and stood strong and reliant. The arquebusiers loaded their pieces and at an order from their captains, marched down the beach to the end of the sand-spit opposite the Spaniards, where they grounded their arms and waited.

But regardless of this warlike show upon our part, the Spaniards made no move to show their numbers or intentions. Many more men appeared upon the hills and others to the number of three-score or more came out of the bushy hollows between the sand dunes and stood unconcerned looking across at us. There seemed something portentous in this calmness and confidence, and this notion of mine was not quieted by the subsequent actions of the Spanish officers. For three or four of them came upon the beach and arm in arm walked calmly up and down, talking together, while their men sat themselves upon the ground and ate their morning meal.

This calmness of the enemy had its effect upon the companies of the Frenchmen. We could easily see that, sick, hungry and weak as we were, our men could prove no match for these hardy Biscayans, with the confidence born of full bellies and continued good fortune. Our men stood nervously, their hands to their waistbands and their eyes starting from their sunken sockets as they saw these gluttons across the channel contentedly munch their biscuits and drink some steaming stuff which was brought them in a great iron pot from the camp among the hills. The hunger, which during the two days had been reduced to a dull gnawing at the vitals and a general weakness of mind and body, now at the sight of this steaming potage, suddenly became most keen and poignant. As I looked, my mouth opened and my tongue came out from my lips. “Ventre bleu!” shouted De Brésac. “They tantalize us. It is not to be borne.”

Job Goddard, who was one of my company of seamen, made no concealment of his suffering, and leaned upon his pike with both hands, craning his neck, his mouth and eyes wide distended. Then without a word – which was the surer sign of his madness – and without changing his gaze or expression, he threw down his weapon and walked forward out of the ranks, down the beach toward the Spaniards, and into the water until the surface rose over his head. None among us had a notion of his intention until he came up sputtering, for he could not swim, drifting seaward with the tide. He must surely have been drowned had not one of the company fastened upon him from one of the rafts with a boat-hook.

Ribault then set the men at rest and called a conference of the officers, at which it was quickly decided to raise a white flag and call for a parley with those in authority among the Spaniards. A white shirt was thereupon fastened to a staff, and La Caille, the sergeant-major, went out upon a raft in plain sight of the enemy, waving this standard to and fro. Presently an officer emerged from the bushes on the other shore, replying. Then La Caille raising his voice so that it echoed plainly among the distant sand hills, shouted,

“We are Frenchmen, – company of Jean Ribault, Admiral of France. If you would parley, send an envoy.”

There was a pause before the answer came. In our ranks, so great was the interest, no word was spoken.

Then we heard in a harsh, commanding voice,

“You have a raft. Come yourselves!”

But the raft would have been of little avail in the current of this channel. So Brunel, the valiant swimmer who had gone first ashore from the Trinity, swam quickly to the opposite side, and seeing a canoe which lay there, entered it and paddled back to us unmolested. La Caille presently returned with him to the Spaniards as an envoy from the Admiral. We saw La Caille, who feared nothing, directly approach a group of the officers among the bushes, whom we could make out by reason of the swords they carried. These he saluted, and one in a cloak arose and acknowledged him courteously. Then he sat down and talked with them.

Ribault meanwhile had gone back among the dunes, where many of those most religiously inclined had fallen upon their knees in prayer. It was not proper that he should have left the front of his command when a mission so delicate as this was trembling in the balance. It is not my desire to belittle the use of prayer at any time; since, if meet and fitting, such petitions are frequently heard, and the great God is very good. But it was little like this gallant man to give a public sign of his doubts to cope with any questions or adversaries. And such, perhaps, a prayer would not have been had not all his actions since the wrecking of the Trinity shown a timidity unaccountable. A great gloom had fallen upon those petitioners, but there were few of us who had not come under its ban. By and by they sang a hymn. The melancholy cadences rolled and echoed from one sand hill to another, until the sound sunk deep into our souls and made us weak and womanish. So dispirited were my men that I perforce gave out a few sharp orders of discipline, and so set them to rights.

The face of La Caille wore no great signs of encouragement as he returned. The Admiral met him upon the beach as the canoe touched the shore.

“Is it – ?” he began.

“It is Menendez de Avilés, the Adelantado,” said La Caille gravely.

“And his force?”

“Many hundreds, I should judge, your Excellency; so disposed that progress in this direction is impossible.”

Ribault put his hand to his brow as though a great pain were at his temples. “I thought as much,” he said.

La Caille went on. “I am bidden tell your Excellency that if you should desire to speak with this Spaniard you may go with four or six companions, and he pledges his word you shall come back safe.”

Ribault was in a great ferment of spirit. But he could not doubt that what the sergeant-major said was true, and so he called the Ensign Arlac, the Sieur de la Notte and myself, who with La Caille, De Brésac and one other entered the canoe and paddled to the opposite shore.

Upon our approach Menendez de Avilés arose, and with two officers and a priest walked down upon the beach to meet us. He stood very erect and bore his hand lightly upon the hilt of his sword. A black cloak thrown around his shoulders half hid his mouth and chin, but for all that I could mark the sinister smile and cruel lips, the sight of which had been burnt into my memory as I lay weak and helpless in the dungeon at Dieppe. His chaplain, De Solis, was at his heels. The officers were not ill-favored, only servile and full of fear of him. All four bowed low, doffing their morions and sweeping them to the Admiral, who acknowledged the courtesy in kind. Many compliments upon the reputation of each of these men were passed by the other, and it might have been thought that they were rather new-found friends than the deadliest enemies of their generation in this poor world.

De Avilés came well prepared to treat with starving men. He led us up to the bushes and bidding us be seated, caused wine and preserved fruits to be placed before us. Though it had seemed I had no mind to eat, we all partook of these things with great avidity. Were there great events to come, it were better, I thought, to borrow strength to meet them. There was little said; Ribault addressed to the Adelantado a few questions, yet these were for the most part unimportant. The silence of La Caille and the others was that of hungry men and not to be mistaken for fear or intimidation. I was using my eyes to as good an advantage as my teeth and let them travel from one bush and hummock to another, seeking to discover, if possible, more than La Caille of their disposition and force. Yet look as I might, everywhere did I see a breast-piece, morion, pike or arquebus. The bushes seemed fairly alive with soldiery and at least an hundred and fifty men were in plain sight from where we sat upon the sand. If this were but an advance guard, or escort from the army of Menendez, then surely the half-starved, illy-armed, dispirited three hundred and fifty cavaliers, seamen, soldiers and tinkers of Admiral Ribault had scant chance of fighting a victorious battle here or otherwhere.

Though I looked much at the scenes and persons about me, my eyes would ever return to a low lying bush some fifty feet away upon a sand dune. For in its shadow was a human leg, booted, the toe of which extended partly out into the sunlight. I thought it at first the member of some tired fellow asleep and so gave it no thought. But my gaze came back upon that foot with a sinister persistency. For follow the line of the leg into the shadow as I would I could find no companion to it, nor yet a body. It ended with horrid abruptness half above the knee.

Menendez de Avilés abruptly broke the silence.

“Captain Juan Ribao,” he said with an air of command which jarred strangely upon his courteous demeanor, “further subterfuge between us were now a sin and a lie before the face of God our Lord. Are you Catholics or Lutherans?”

“We are Lutherans of the New Faith,” returned Ribault, staunchly.

The Spaniard sucked in a long breath between his teeth.

“Gentlemen, your fort is taken and in it all are put to the sword.”

He spat the words out mercilessly and hatefully.

There was a dreadful stillness, and then we started up with one accord, looking around from the one to the other. The Sieur de la Notte tried to speak, but the words would not come forth from his throat, at which he clutched and would have gone to the ground had he not fallen back into my arms. The Admiral was bewildered. La Caille, only, did not tremble. He stood up, straight and fearless.

“Señor Pedro Menendez de Avilés,” he said calmly and distinctly, “it is my belief that you lie.”

Menendez seized his sword at this insult and the Spanish officers rushed forward. They thought surely the Adelantado would run the valiant Frenchman through the body.