University of Virginia Library

20. XIX.

1. CHAPTER I.

It being determined by Laudonniere, in the necessities of his
people, to seize upon the person of the great Paracoussi, Olata
Ouvae Utina, in order, by the ransom which he should extort, to
relieve the famine which prevailed among the garrison, he proceeded
to make his preparations for the event. Two of his
barks were put in order for this purpose, and a select body of
fifty men was chosen from his ranks to accompany him on the
expedition. But this select body, though the very best men of
the garrison, exhibited but few external proofs of their adequacy
for the enterprise. So lean of flesh, so shrunk of sinew, so
hollow-eyed were they, that their picture recals to us the description
given by Shakspeare of the famished and skeleton regiments
of Henry of Monmouth at the famous field of Agincourt—`A
poor and starved band,' the very `shales and husks of men,'
with scarcely blood enough in all their veins, to stain the
Indian hatchet, which they travel to provoke. But famine
endows the sinews with a vigor of its own. Hunger enforced to
the last extremities of nature, clothes the spirit of the man in the

passions of the wolf and tiger. Lean and feeble as are our
Frenchmen, they are desperate. They are in the mood to brave
the forest chief in his fastnesses, and to seize upon his own heart,
in the lack of other food. The very desperation of their case
secures them against any misgivings.

The dominions of Holata Utina were distant from La Caroline,
between forty and fifty leagues up the river. His chief town,
where he dwelt, lay some six more leagues inland, a space over
which our Frenchmen had to march. Leaving a sufficent guard
in their vessels, Laudonniere and his company landed and proceeded
in this quarter. He marched with caution, for he knew
his enemy. His advance was conducted by Alphonse D'Erlach,
his standard-bearer—one, whose experience and skill had been
too frequently tried to leave it doubtful that his conduct would be
a safe one. He had traversed the space before, and he knew the
route thoroughly. The progress was urged with as much secrecy
as caution. The cover of the woods was carefully maintained,
the object of the party being a surprise. They well knew that
Utina had but little expectation of seeing them, at this juncture,
in his own abodes. None, so well as himself, knew how feeble was
their condition, how little competent to any courageous enterprise.
They succeeded in appearing at the village of the chief
without provoking alarm. He himself was at home, sitting in
state in the royal wigwam, with but few warriors about him.
The fashion of the Indian, with less royal magnificence, in other
words, with less art and civilization—is not greatly unlike that of
the Turk. Olata Utina sat crossed legs upon a dais prepared of
dressed skins of the deer, the bear and panther. The spotted
hides hung over the raised portions of the seat which he kept,
upon which also might be seen coverlets of cotton ingeniously

manufactured, and richly stained with the bright crimson, scarlet,
and yellow, of native dye-woods. This art of dyeing, the savages
had brought to a comparatively high state of perfection. His
house itself stood upon an artificial eminence of earth, raised in
the very centre of his village, and overlooking it on every hand.
It was an airy structure, with numerous openings, and the breeze
played sweetly and capriciously among the coverlets which hung
as curtains before the several places of egress and entrance.
Utina himself was a savage of noble size and appearance. He
carried himself with the ease and dignity of one born to the
purple. His form, though an old man, was still unbending and
tall. His countenance was one of great spirit and nobleness.
With forehead equally large and high, with a dark eye that
flashed with all the fires of youth, with lips that opened only to
discourse in tones of a sweet but majestic eloquence, and with a
shrewd sagacity, that made him, among a cunning people, a
recognised master of all the arts of the serpent, he was necessarily
a person to impress with respect and admiration those even
who came with hostility.

It is probable that Utina knew nothing of the approach of the
Frenchmen, until it was too late to escape them. But, before
they entered the opened space assigned to the settlement, he was
advised of their coming. Then it was that he threw aside his domestic
habit and assumed his state. Then it was that he resumed
his dignity and ascended the dais of stained cotton and flowing
deer-skin. His turban of purple and yellow cotton was bound
skilfully about his brow, his bow and quiver lay beside him, while
at his feet was extended his huge macana, or war-club, which it
scarcely seemed possible that his aged hands should now grasp
with vigor sufficient for its formidable use. His hands, when the

Frenchmen entered the dwelling, held nothing more formidable
than the earthen pipe, and the long tubulated reed which he busied
himself in inserting within the bowl. Two of his attendant warriors
retired at the same moment. These, Laudonniere did not
think proper to arrest, though counselled to do so by D'Erlach.
He knew not that they had been despatched by the wily Paracoussi
for the purpose of gathering his powers for resistance.

Laudonniere appeared in the royal wigwam with but ten companions.
Forty others had been dispersed by D'Erlach at proper
points around the village. Of their proximity the king knew nothing.
His eye took in, at a single glance, the persons of his
visitors; and a slight smile, that looked derisive, was seen to overspread
his visage. It was with something like good humor in his tones
that he gave them welcome. A page at the same time brought forth
a basket of wicker-work, which contained a large collection of pipes
of all sorts and sizes. Another basket afforded a sufficient quantity
of dried leaves of the tobacco and vanilla. The Paracoussi
nodded to his guests as the boy presented both baskets, and Laudonniere,
with two others of his company, helped themselves to
pipes and weed. Thus far nothing had been said but “Ami,” and
“Bonjour.” The welcome of the Indians was simple always, and
a word sufficed among them as amply as the most studied and
verbose compliment. The French had learned to imitate them in
this respect, to be sparing of words, and to restrain the expression
of their emotions, particularly when these indicated want or suffering.

But the necessities of our Frenchmen were too great and pressing,
at the present time, to be silenced wholly by convention; and
when, as if in mockery, a small troncher of parched corn was set

before them, with a vessel of water, the impatience of Laudonniere
broke into utterance.

“Paracoussi Utina,” said he, “you have long known the want
which has preyed upon our people,”

“My brother is hungry,” replied Utina, with a smile more
full of scorn than sweetness—“let my brother eat. Let his
young men eat. There is never famine among the people of
Utina.”

“And if there be no want among the people of Utina, wherefore
is it that he suffers the French to want? Why has he forgotten
his allies? Did not my young men fight the battles of
Utina against the warriors of the mighty Potanou? Did not
many captives grace the triumph of Utina? Has the Paracoussi
forgotten these services? Why does he turn away from his
friends, and show himself cold to their necessities?”

“Why will my pale brother be talking?” said the other, with
a most lordly air of indifference. “The people of Utina have
fought against the warriors of Potanou for more than a hundred
winters. My French brother is but a child in the land of the
red-people. What does he know of the triumphs of my warriors?
He saw them do battle once with the tribes of Potanou, and he
makes account because he then fought on behalf of my people.
My people have fought with the people of Potanou more than a
hundred battles. Our triumphs have been witnessed by every
bird that flies, every beast that runs, every fish that swims, between
the villages of Potanou and the strong house of the Frenchman
where he starves below. What more will our pale brother
say, being thus a child among the red-men?”

“Why parley with the savage?” said Alphonse D'Erlach,
“if you mean to take him? I care not for his insolence which

chafes me nothing; but we lose time. You have suffered some
of his warriors to depart. They are gone, doubtless, to gather
the host together. We shall need all the time to carry our
captive safely to the boats.”

These words were spoken aloud, directly in the rear of Utina,
D'Erlach having taken a place behind him in the conference. The
Paracoussi was startled by the language. Some of it was beyond
his comprehension. But he could not misunderstand the tone
and manner of the speaker. D'Erlach was standing above him,
with his hand stretched over him, and ready to grasp his victim
the moment the word should be spoken. His slight form and
youthful features, contrasted with the cold, inflexible expression
of his eyes and face, very forcibly impressed the imagination of
the Indian monarch, as, turning at the interruption, he looked up
at the person of the speaker. But, beyond the first single start
which followed the interruption, Utina gave no sign of surprise
or apprehension.

“Awhile, awhile, Alphonse—be not too hasty, my son;” was
the reply of Laudonniere. He continued, addressing himself to
the Paracoussi:

“My red brother thinks he understands the French. He is
mistaken. He will grow wiser before he grows much older. But
it will be time then that I should teach him. It matters now
only, that I should say to the Paracoussi Utina, we want, and
you have plenty. We have fought your battles. We are your
friends. We will trade with you for mil and beanes. Give us
of these, according to our need, and you shall have of the merchandize
of the French in just proportion. Let it be so, brother,
that peace may still flourish between our people.”

“There is mil and beanes before my white brother. Let him
take and divide among his people.”

“But this will not suffice for a single meal. Does the Paracoussi
laugh to scorn the sufferings of my people?”

“The Paracoussi laughs because the granaries of the red-men
are full. There is no famine among his people. Hath the Great
Spirit written that the red-man shall gather food in the proper
season that the white man may sleep like the drowsy buffalo in
the green pasture? Let my white brother drive from his ear the
lying bird that sings to him: `Sleep—take thy slumber under
the pleasant shade tree, while the people of Utina get thee
food!”'

“Would the Paracoussi make the Frenchmen his enemies? Is
their anger nothing? Is their power not a thing to be feared?”

“And what is the Paracoussi Olata Ovae Utina? Hath he not
many thousand warriors? The crane that rises in the east in the
morning, though he flies all day, compasses not the land at sunset,
which belongs to my dominions. East and west my people
whoop like the crane, and hear no birds that answer but their
own. Let my pale brother hush, for he speaks a foolish thing
of his warriors. Did I dream, or did any runners tell me that
the bones of the Frenchmen break through the skin, lacking food,
and their sinews are so shrunken that they can never more strive
in battle? Who shall fear them? I had pity on my brother
when I heard these things. I sent him food, and bade my people
say—`take this food which thou needest; the great Paracoussi
asks for nothing in recompense, but thy guns, thy swords, and
thy lances; weapons which they tell me thou hast strength to use
no longer.”

“Did they tell thee so, Utina? But thou shalt see. Once

more, my brother, I implore thee to give us of thy abundance,
and we will cheerfully impart to thee from our store of knives,
reap-hooks, hatchets, mirrors, and lovely beads, such as will
delight thy women. Here, behold,—this is some of the treasure
which I have brought thee for the purposes of barter.”

The lordly chieftain deigned not a single glance to the European
wares, which, at a word from Laudonniere, one of the
French soldiers laid at his feet. The French captain, as if loth
to proceed to extremities, continued to entreat; while every new
appeal was only answered, on the part of the savage prince, with
a new speech of scorn, and new gestures of contempt. At length,
Laudonniere's patience was exhausted, and he gave the signal
which had been agreed upon with his lieutenant. In the next
moment, the quick grasp of Alphonse D'Erlach was laid upon
the Paracoussi's shoulders. He attempted to rise, and to grasp,
at the same time, the macana which lay at his feet. But D'Erlach
kept him down with his hands, while his foot was struck
down upon the macana. In that moment, the war-conch was
sounded at the entrance by several Indians who had been in waiting.
It was caught up and echoed by the bugles of D'Erlach;
the blast of which had scarcely been heard throughout the village,
before it had been replied to, four several times, from as many
different points where the French force had been stationed, ten
soldiers in each. One desperate personal struggle which the
Paracoussi made, proved fruitless to extricate him from the grasp
of his captor; and he then sat quietly, without a word, coldly
looking his enemies in the face.

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.

3. CHAPTER III.

The Paracoussi, on parting with Laudonniere, renewed his
assurances of good will, and repeated the promises which had been
given to ensure his deliverance from captivity. The engagement
required that a certain number of days should be allowed him, in
which to gather supplies in sufficient quantity to discharge his
ransom. Laudonniere left his lieutenants, Ottigny and D'Erlach,
with the two hostages, in one of the barks, to receive the provisions
which Utina was to furnish, while he himself returned to
La Caroline. The lieutenants moored their vessel within a little
creek which emptied into the May, and adopted all necessary
precautions against savage artifice. The vigilance of Alphonse
D'Erlach, in particular, was sleepless. He knew, more certainly
than his superior, the necessities and dangers of the French, and
the subtlety of the Indians. By day and night they lurked in the
contiguous thickets, watchful of every opportunity for assault.
An arquebuse presented in wantonness against the ledge which
skirted the river, would frequently expel a group of shrieking
warriors, well armed and covered with the war paint; and, with
the dawn of morning, the first thing to salute the eyes of our Frenchmen
would be long strings of arrows, planted in the earth, their
barbs of flint turned upwards, from which long hairs shreds from

heads which had been shorn for war, were to be seen waving in the
wind. These were signs, too well understood by previous experience,
of a threatened and sleepless hostility

It was soon found that the Paracoussi either could not or would
not comply with his engagements. He sent a small supply of
grain to the lieutenant, but said that more could not be provided
except by a surrender of the hostages. The Frenchmen were
required to bring the captives to the village, when and where they
should be furnished with the full amount of the promised ransom.
Satisfied that all this was mere pretence, indicating purposes of
treachery, the Frenchmen were yet too much straitened by want
to forego any enterprise which promised them provisions. They,
accordingly, set forth for the place appointed, in two separate
bodies, marching so that they might support each other promptly,
under the several leads of D'Erlach and Ottigny. The former
held the advance. The village of Utina was six French leagues
from the river where they left their barque, and the route which
they were compelled to pursue was such as exposed them frequently
to the perils of ambuscade. But so vigilant was their watch, so
ready were they with matches lighted, and so close was the custody
in which they kept their hostages, that the Indians, whom
they beheld constantly flitting through the thickets, dared never
make any attempt upon them. They reached the village in
safety, and immediately proceeded to the dwelling-house of Olata
Utina, raised, as before described, upon an artificial eminence.
Here they found assembled all the chiefs of the nation; but the
Paracoussi was not among them. He kept aloof, and was not to
be seen at present by the Frenchmen. His chiefs received their
visitors with smiles and great professions; but, as their own proverb
recites, when the enemy smiles your scalp is in danger.

They pointed to great sacks of mil and beans which had already
been accumulated, and still they showed the Frenchmen where
hourly came other of their subjects adding still more to the pile.

“But wherefore,” they demanded, “wherefore come our white
brethren, with the fire burning in their harquebuses? See they
not that it causes our women to be afraid, and our children to
tremble in their terror. Let our brethren put out this fire, which
makes them dread to come nigh with their peace-offerings, and
know us for a friend, under whose tongue there is no serpent.”

To this D'Erlach replied—“Our red brothers do themselves
wrong. They do not fear the fire in our harquebuses. They know
not its danger. The Frenchmen have always forborne to show
them the power that might make them afraid. But this power is
employed only against our enemies. Let the chiefs of the people
of the Paracoussi Utina show themselves friends, and the thunder
which we carry shall only send its fearful bolts among the foes
of Utina, the people of Potanou, and the warriors of the great
mountain of Apalatchy.

“If we are thus friends of the Frenchmen, why do they keep
our beloved men in bondage? Are these the ornaments proper
to a warrior and a great chief among his people?”

They pointed as they spoke to the fetters which embraced the
legs and arms of the hostages, who sat in one corner of the
council-house.

“Our red brothers have but to speak, and these chains fall
from the limbs of their well beloved chiefs.”

“Heh!—We speak!—Let them fall!”

“Speak to your people that these piles be complete,” pointing
to the grain.

“They have heard. See you not they come?”

“But very slowly;—and hearken to us now, brothers of the
red-men, while we ask,—do the skies that pavilion the territories
of the Paracoussi Utina rain down such things as these.”

Here D'Erlach showed them a bunch of the arrows which they
had found planted by the wayside as they came. The thin lips of
the savages parted into slight smiles as they beheld them.

“These grow not by nature,” continued D'Arlach; “they fall
not from heaven in the heavy showers. They are sown by the
red-men along the path which the white man travels. What is
the fruit which is to grow from such seed as this?”

The chiefs were silent. The youth proceeded:

“Brothers, we are calm;—we are not angry, though we well
know what these arrows mean. We are patient, for we know our
own strength. The Paracoussi has promised us supplies of grain,
and hither we have come. Four days shall we remain in waiting
for it. Till that time, these well-beloved men shall remain in our
keeping. When we receive the supplies which have been promised
us, they shall be yours. We have spoken.”

Thus ended the first conference. That night the French
lieutenants found their way to the presence of the Paracoussi. He
was kept concealed in a small wigwam, deeply embowered in the
woods, but in near and convenient neighborhood to the village.
He himself had sent for them, and one of his sons had shown the
way. They found the old monarch still maintaining the state of
a prince, but he was evidently humbled. His captivity had
lessened his authority; and his anxiety to comply with the engagements
made with the French had in some degree impaired his
influence over his people. They had resolved to destroy the
pale-faces, as insolent invaders of their territory, consumers of its
substance and enemies of its peace. It was this hostility and this

determination that had interposed all the obstacles in the way of
procuring the supplies promised.

“They resist me, their Paracoussi,” said Utina bitterly, “and
have resolved on fighting with you! They will wage war against
you to the last. See you not the planted arrows that marked
your pathway to my village? These arrows are planted from
the territories of Utina, by every pathway, to the very gates of
La Caroline. They will meet your eyes wherever you shall return
to the fortress. They mean nothing less than war, and such
warfare as admits of no peace. Go you, therefore, go you with
all speed to your vessels, and make what haste you can to the
garrison. The woods swarm with my warriors, and they no
longer heed my voice. They will hunt you to your vessel.
They mean to throw trees athwart the creek so that her escape
may be cut off, while they do you to death with their arrows,
and I cannot be there to say to my people—`stay your shafts,
these be our friends and allies.' They no longer hearken to my
voice. I am a Paracoussi without subjects, a ruler without obedience,—a
shadow, where I only used to be the substance.”

The despondency of the king was without hypocrisy. It
sensibly impressed our Frenchmen. They felt that he spoke the
truth. He was then, in fact, excluded from the house of council,
as incurring the suspicion of the red-men as fatally friendly
to the whites. While they still conversed, they were alarmed by
violent shrieks, as of one in mortal terror.

“That scream issues from a French throat!” exclaimed
D'Erlach, as he rushed forth. He was followed by Lieutenant
Ottigny and another. The Paracoussi never left his seat. The
screams guided them into a neighboring thicket, into which they
hurried, arriving there not a moment too soon. A Frenchman

struggled in the grasp of five stalwart savages, who had him down
and were preparing to cut his throat. He had been beguiled
from the place which had been assigned him as a watch, and was
about to pay the penalty of his folly with his life. In an instant
the gallant Alphonse D'Erlach had sprung among them, his sword
passing clear through the back of the most prominent in the
group of assailants. His body, falling upon that of the captive,
prevented the blows which the rest were showering upon him.
They started in sudden terror at this interruption. Their own
and the clamors of the Frenchman had kept them from all knowledge
of the approaching rescue. In an instant they were gone.
They waited for no second stroke from a weapon whose first address
was so sharp and sudden. They left their captive, bruised
and groaning, but without serious injury to life or limb.

The warnings and assurances of the Paracoussi were sufficiently
enforced by this instance of the hostility of the red-men. But
the necessity of securing all the supplies they might possibly procure
from the natives, either through their own artifices or because
of the apprehension for their chiefs, caused our Frenchmen to
linger at the village of Utina. They were determined to wait the
full period of four days which they had assigned themselves. In
this period they saw the Paracoussi more than once. At each
interview his admonitions were delivered with increased solemnity.
They found his chiefs less and less accommodating at every interview.
The piles of grain at the council-house increased slowly.
Occasionally an Indian might be seen to enter and east the contents
of his little basket among the rest. The Frenchmen endeavored
to persuade the chiefs to furnish men to carry the grain
to their vessel, but this was flatly denied. Resolved, finally, to
depart, each soldier was required to load himself with a sack

as well filled as it was consistent with his strength to bear. This
was slung across his shoulder, and, in this way, burdened with
food for other mouths as well as their own, and carrying their
matchlocks besides, the Frenchmen prepared to depart, on the
morning of the 27th July, 1565, from the village of Utina to the
bark which they had left. It was a memorable day for our adventurers.
In groups, scornfully smiling as they beheld the soldiers
staggering beneath their burdens, the chiefs assembled to
see them depart from the village. Alphonse D'Erlach beheld
the malignant triumph which sparkled in their eyes.

“We shall not be suffered to reach the bark in quiet;” was his
remark to Ottigny. “Let me have the advance, Monsieur, if you
please; I have dealt with the dogs before.”

To this Ottigny consented; and leading one of the divisions of
the detachment, as at coming, D'Erlach prepared to take the
initiate in a progress, every part of which was destined to be
marked with strife. The immediate entrance to the village of
the Paracoussi, the only path, indeed, by which our Frenchmen
could emerge, lay, for nearly half a mile, through a noble avenue,
the sides of which were densely occupied by a most ample and
umbrageous forest. The trees were at once great and lofty, and
the space beneath was closed up with a luxuriant undergrowth
which spread away like a wall of green on either hand. D'Erlach
remembered this entrance.

“Here,” said he to Ottigny, “Here, at the very opening of the
path, our trouble is likely to begin. Let your men be prepared
with matches lighted, and see that your fire is delivered only in
squads, so that, at no time, shall all of your pieces be entirely
empty.”

Ottigny prepared to follow this counsel. His men were all

apprised of what they had to expect; and were told, at the first
sign of danger, to cast down their corn bags, and betake themselves
to their weapons wholly. The grain might be lost—probably
would be—but better this, than, in a vain endeavor to
preserve it, lose life and grain together. Thus prepared,
D'Erlach began the march. He was followed, at a short interval,
by Ottigny, with the rest of the detachment; a small force of
eight arquebusiers excepted, who, under charge of a sergeant,
were sent to the left of the thicket which bounded the avenue on
one hand, with instructions to scour the woods in that quarter,
yet without passing beyond reach of help from the main body.

All fell out as had been anticipated. D'Erlach was encountered
as he emerged from the avenue, by a force of three
hundred Indians. They poured in a cloud of arrows, but fortunately
at such a distance as to do little mischief. With the first
assault the Frenchmen dispossessed themselves of their burdens,
and prepared themselves for fight. The savages came on more
boldly, throwing in fresh flights of arrows as they pushed forward,
and rending the forests with their cries. D'Erlach preserved all
his steadiness and coolness. He saw that the arrows were yet
comparatively ineffectual.

“Do not answer them yet, my good fellows,” he cried, “but
stoop ye, every man, and break the arrows, as many as ye can,
that fall about ye.”

He had seen that the savages, having delivered a few fires, were
wont to rush forward and gather up the spent shafts, which, thus
recovered, afforded them an inexhaustible armory, upon which it
is their custom to rely. When his assailants beheld how his men
were engaged, they rushed forward with loud shouts of fury, and
delivering another storm of darts, they made demonstrations of a

desire for close conflict, with their stone hatchets and macanas.
At this show, D'Erlach spoke to his men in subdued accents.

“Make ye still as if ye would stoop for the fallen arrows, ye
of the first rank; but blow ye your matches even as ye do so,
and falling upon your knees deliver then your fire; while the
second rank will cover you as ye do so, and while ye charge
anew your pieces.”

The command was obeyed with coolness; and, as the Indians
darted forward, coming in close packed squadrons into the gorge
of the avenue, the soldiers delivered their fire with great precision.
Dreadful was the howl which followed it, for more than
thirteen of the savages had fallen, mortally hurt, and two of their
chief warriors had been made to bite the dust. Seizing the
bodies of their slain and wounded comrades, the survivors immediately
hurried into cover, and D'Erlach at once pushed forward
with his command. But he had not advanced more than four
hundred paces, when the assault was renewed, the air suddenly
being darkened with the flight of bearded shafts, while the forest
rang with the yells of savage fury. They were still too far
for serious mischief, and were besides covered with the woods;
so, giving the assailants little heed, except to observe that they
came not too nigh, or too suddenly upon him, D'Erlach continued
to push forward, doing as he had done before with the hostile
arrows whenever they lay in the pathway. But the courage of
the red-men increased as they warmed in the struggle, and they
grew bolder because of the very forbearance of the Frenchmen
Besides, their forces had been increased by other bodies, each
approaching in turn to the assault, so as to keep their enemies
constantly busy. In parties of two or three hundred, they darted
from their several ambushes, and having discharged their arrows,

and met with repulse, retired rapidly to other favorite places of
concealment to renew the conflict as it continued to advance.
By this time, the whole body of the Frenchmen had become engaged
in the fight. The force under Ottigny, following the
example of that led by D'Erlach, had succeeded in pressing forward,
though not without loss, while making great havoc with the
red-men. These people fought, never men more bravely; and,
but for the happy thought, that of destroying their arrows as fast
as they fell, it is probable that the detachment had never reached
La Caroline. They hovered thus about the march of the Frenchmen
all the day, encouraging each other with shouts of vengeance
and delight, and sending shaft upon shaft, with an aim, which,
had they not been too greatly sensible of the danger of the arquebuse,
to come sufficiently nigh, would have been always fatal.
Yet well did the savage succeed, so long as they remained unintoxicated
by their rage, in dodging the aim of the weapon. As
Laudonniere writes—“All the while they had their eye and foot
so quicke and readie, that as soone as ever they saw the harquebuse
raised to the cheeke, so soon were they on the ground, and
eftsoone to answer with their bowes, and to flie their way, if by
chance they perceived that we were about to take them.”

This conflict lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until night.
It only ceased when the darkness separated the combatants.
Even then, but for the deficiency of their arrows, they probably
would not have withdrawn from the field. It was late in the
night when the Frenchmen reached their boats, weary and exhausted,
their grain wrested from them, their hostages rescued,
and twenty-four of their number killed and wounded. The
Floridians had shown themselves warriors of equal spirit and
capacity. The determined exclusion of their Paracoussi from

counsels which it was feared that he would dishonor, their manly
resistance to the white invaders, their scornful ridicule of their
necessities, their proud defiance of their power, and the fierce
and unrelenting hostility with which they had chased their adversaries,
remind us irresistibly of the degradation of Montezuma
by his subjects, their prolonged warfare with the Spaniards,
their sleepless hostility, and that bloody struggle which first drove
them over the causeways of Tenochtitlan. The inferior state
and wealth of the Paracoussi, Olata Ouvae Utina, constitutes no
such sufficient element of difference, as to lessen the force of the
parallel between himself and people, and those of the Atzec
sovereign.