University of Virginia Library

2. 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
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 Olato 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 gorgeouslydyed
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.