2. CHAPTER II.
The congratulations of his people were yet resounding in his
ears, when the savages brought him further intelligence of Frenchmen
gathered upon the borders of that bay which had arrested the
progress of the previous detachment. They were represented to
be more numerous than the first, and Melendez did not doubt that
they constituted the bulk of Ribault's force under the immediate
command of that leader. He proceeded to encounter him as he
had done the other party, but on this occasion he increased his
own detachment to one hundred and fifty men. These he ranged
in good order during the night, along the banks of the river,
which the Huguenots had begun their preparations to pass. They
had been at work upon the radeau or raft which had been begun
by the preceding party, but their progress had been unsatisfactory,
and the prospect of the passage, in such a vessel, over such
an arm of the sea, was quite as discouraging as to their predecessors.
With the dawn, and when they discovered the force of Melendez
on the opposite shore, the drums sounded the alarm, the royal
standard of France was advanced, and the troops were ranged in
order of battle. Poor Ribault still observed the externals of the
veteran, if only to conceal the real infirmities which impaired the
moral of his command.
Seeing this display of determination, Melendez, with proper
policy, commanded his people to proceed to breakfast without any
show of excitement or emotion. He himself promenaded the banks
of the river, accompanied only by his admiral and two other
officers, as indifferently as if there had been no person on the
opposite side. With this, the clamors of the French tambours
ceased—the fifes were allowed to take breath—and in place of the
warlike standard of their country, the commander of the Huguenots
displayed a white flag as sign of peace, and his trumpets
sounded for a parley. A response from the Spanish side of the
river, in similar spirit, caused one of the Frenchmen to advance
within speaking distance, upon the raft, who requested that somebody
might be sent them, as their radeau could not contend
against the current. A pirogue was finally sent by the Spaniard,
which brought over the sergeant-major of Ribault. This man
related briefly the necessities and desires of his commander.
He was totally ignorant of all that had taken place. He had been
wrecked, and had lost all his vessels; that he had with him three
hundred and fifty soldiers; that he was desirous of reaching his
fortress, twenty leagues distant; and prayed the assistance of the
Spaniards, to enable him to do so. At the close, he desired to
know with whom he was conferring.
Melendez answered as directly as he had done in the previous
instance, when dealing with the first detachment. He did not
scruple to add to the narrative of the capture of La Caroline, and
the cruel murder of its garrison, the farther history of the party
whom he had encountered in the same place with themselves.
“I have punished all these with death;” he continued; and,
still further to assure the officer of Ribault of the truth of what
he said, he took him to the spot where lay in a heap the exposed,
the bleached and decaying bodies of his slaughtered companions.
The Frenchman looked steadily at the miserable spectacle, and
so far commanded his nerves as to betray no emotion. He continued
his commission without faltering; and obtained from Melandez
a surety in behalf of Ribault, with four or six of his men,
to cross the river for the purpose of conference, with the privilege
of returning to his forces at his leisure. But the adelantado
positively refused to let the Frenchmen have his shallop or bateau.
The pirogue, alone, was at their service. With this, the French
general could pass the strait without risk; and he was compelled
to content himself with this. The policy of Melendez was
not willing to place any larger vessel in his power.
Ribault crossed to the conference, accompanied by eight of his
officers. They were well received by the adelantado, and a collation
spread for them. He showed them afterwards the bodies of
their slain companions. He gave them the full history of the
taking of La Caroline, and the treatment of the garrison, and
brought forward the two Frenchmen, claiming to be Catholics,
whose lives had been spared when the rest were massacred.
There was something absolutely satanic in the conduct of the
Spaniard, by which Ribault was confounded. He was not willing
to believe the facts that he could not question.
“Monsieur,” said he to Laudonniere, “I will not believe that
you design us evil. Our kings are friends and brothers, and in
the name of this alliance between them, I conjure you to furnish
us with a vessel for returning to our country. We have suffered
enough in this: we will leave it in your hands entirely. Help us
to the means necessary for our departure.”
To this Melendez replied in the very same language which he
had used to the preceding detachment:
“Our kings are Catholics both; they hold terms with one
another, but not with heretics. I will make no terms with you.
I will hold no bonds with heretics anywhere. You have heard
what I have done with your comrades. You hear what has been
the fate of La Caroline. You behold the corses of those who but
a few days ago followed your banner; and now I say to you that
you must yield to my discretion, leaving it to me to do with you
as God shall determine me!”
Aghast and confounded, Ribault declared his purpose to return
and consult with his people. In a case so extreme, particularly
as he had with him many gentlemen of family, he could not
undertake to decide without their participation. Melendez
approved this determination, and the general of the French
re-crossed the river.
For three hours was the consultation carried on in the camp of
our Huguenots. Ribault fully revealed the terrible history of
what had passed, of what he had heard and seen in the camp of the
Spaniards. The cold and cruel decision of Melendez in their case,
as in that of the previous troops, was unfolded without reserve.
There were no concealments, and, for a time, a dull, deep and
dreary silence overspread the assembly. But all had not been
crushed by misfortune into imbecility. There were some noble and
fierce spirits whose hearts rose in all their strength of resolution,
as they listened to the horrible narrative and the insolent exaction.
“Better perish a thousand deaths, in the actual conflict with a
thousand enemies, than thus submit to perish in cold blood from
the stroke of the cowardly assassin!”
Such was the manly resolution of many. Others, again, like
Ribault, were disposed to hope against all experience. The fact
that Melendez had treated them so civilly, that he had placed
food and drink before them, and that his manners were respectful
and his tones were mild, were assumed by them to be conclusive
they were not to suffer as their predecessors had done.
“They were beguiled with the same arguments,” said young
Alphonse D'Erlach; “arguments which appealed to their hunger,
their thirst, their exhaustion, and their spiritless hearts—arguments
against truth, and common sense and their own eyes. He
who listens to such arguments will merit to fall by the hands of
the assassin.”
We need not pursue the debate which continued for three
hours. At the end of this time, Ribault returned to the landing.
“A portion of my people,” he said, “but not the greater number,
are prepared to surrender themselves to you at discretion.”
“They are their own masters,” replied Melendez; “they must
do as they please; to me it is quite indifferent what decision they
make.”
Ribault continued:
“Those who are thus prepared to yield themselves have instructed
me to offer you twenty thousand ducats for their ransom;
but the others will give even a greater sum, for they include
among them many persons of great wealth and family;—nay, they
desire further, if you will suffer it, to remain still in the country.”
“I shall certainly need some succors,” replied Melendez, “in
order to execute properly the commands of the king, my master,
which are to conquer the country and to people it, establishing
here the Holy Evangel;—and I should grieve to forego any assistance.”
This evasive answer was construed by Ribault according to his
desires. He requested permission to return and deliberate with
his people in order to communicate this last response. He readily
obtained what he asked, and the night was consumed among the
Huguenots in consultation. It brought no unanimity to their
counsels.
“I will sooner trust the incarnate devil himself, than this Melendez,”
was the resolution of Alphonse D'Erlach to his elder
brother. “Go not,
mon frére, yield not: the savage Floridian has
no heart so utterly stony as that of this Spaniard. I will peril
anything with the savage, ere I trust to his doubtful mercy.”
And such was the resolve of many others, but it was not that of
Ribault.
“What!” exclaimed one of his friendly counsellors—“he has
shown you our slain comrades, butchered under the very arrangement
which he accords to us, and yet you trust to him?”
The infatuated leader, broken in spirit, and utterly exhausted
in the struggle with fate, replied:
“That he has freely shown me what he has done, is no proof
that he designs any such deeds hereafter. His fury is satiated.
It is impossible that he will commit a like crime of this nature.
It is his pride that would have us wholly in his power.”
“He hath fed on blood until he craves it,” cried Alphonse
D'Erlach. “You go to your death, Monsieur Ribault. The tiger
invites you to a banquet where the guest brings the repast.”
He was unheard, at least by the Huguenot general.
“We will leave this man, my friends,” cried Alphonse D'Erlach,
the strong will and great heart naturally rising to command
in the moment of extremity. “We will leave this man. Quem
Deus vult perdere prius dementat. He goes to the sacrifice!”
And when Ribault prepared in the morning to lead his people
across the bay, he found but an hundred and fifty of all the force
that he commanded during the previous day. Two hundred had
disappeared in the night under the guidance of D'Erlach.
