University of Virginia Library

23. XXII.
THE FATE OF LA CAROLINE.

1. CHAPTER I.

The fleet of Ribault consisted of seven vessels. The three
smallest of these had ascended the river to the fortress. The four
larger, which were men of war, remained in the open roadstead.
Here they were joined on the fourth of September by six Spanish
vessels of large size and armament. These came to anchor, and,
at their first coming, gave assurance of amity to the Frenchmen.
But Ribault had been warned, prior to his departure from France,
that the Spaniards were to be suspected. The crowns of France
and Spain, it is true, were at peace, but the Spaniards themselves
contemplated settlements in Florida, to which they laid claim, by
right of previous discovery, including, under this general title,
territories of the most indefinite extent. Philip the Second, that
cold, malignant and jealous despot, freed by the amnesty with
France from the cares of war in that quarter, now addressed his
strength and employed his leisure in extending equally his sway,
with that of the Catholic faith, among the red-men of America.
Prior to the settlements of Coligny, he had begun his preparations
for this object. The charge of the expedition was confided
to Don Pedro Melendez de Avilez, an officer particularly famous

among his countrymen for his deeds of heroism in the New World.
He himself, bore a considerable portion of the expense of the enterprise,
and this was a consideration sufficiently imposing in the
eyes of his sovereign, to secure for him the dignity of a Spanish
Adelantado, with the hereditary government of all the Floridas.
It was while engaged in the preparations for this expedition that
tidings were received by the Spaniards of the settlements which
had been begun by the Huguenots. The enterprise of Don Pedro
de Melendez now assumed an aspect of more dignity. It became
a crusade, and the eager impulse of ambition was stimulated by
all the usual arguments in favor of a holy war. To extirpate
heresy was an object equally grateful to both the legitimates of
France and Spain; and the heartless monarch of France, Charles
the Ninth, in the spirit which subsequently gave birth to the horrible
massacre of St Bartholomew, it is reported—though the act
may have been that of the Queen Mother—cheerfully yielded up
his Protestant subjects in Florida, to the tender mercies of the
Spanish propagandist. There is little doubt that the French
monarch had signified to his Spanish brother, that he should resent
none of the wrongs done to the colonies of Coligny; he himself
being, at this very time, busied in the labor which was preparing
for the destruction of their patron and brethren at home.
Coligny well knew how little was the real sympathy entertained
by the monarch for this class of his subjects, and he felt that
there were sufficient reasons to fear, and to be watchful of, the
Spaniards. He had some better authority than mere suspicion for
his fear. Just as Ribault was about to take his departure from
France, the Lord Admiral wrote him as follows, in a hasty postscript:—“As
I was closing this letter, I received certain advices
that Don Pedro Melendez departeth from Spain to go to the coast
of New France, (Florida,) see that you suffer him not to encroach
upon you, no more than you will suffer yourself to encroach on him.”

The preparations of Melendez began to assume an aspect of
great and imposing magnificence. Clergy and laity crowded to
his service. Noarly twenty vessels, some of very considerable
force, were provided; and three thousand adventurers assembled
under his command. But Heaven did not seem at first to smile
upon the enterprise. His fleet was encountered by tempests as
had been the “Grand Armada,” and the number of his vessels
before he reached Porto Rico had been reduced nearly two thirds.
Some doubt now arose in the minds of the Spanish captains, whether
they were in sufficient force to encounter Ribault. The bigotry
and enthusiasm of Melendez rejected the doubt with indignation.
His fanaticism furnished an argument in behalf of his
policy, imposing enough to the superstitious mind, and which his
followers were sufficiently willing to accept. “The Almighty,”
said the Adelantado, “has reduced our armament, only that his
own arm might achieve the holy work.”

The warning of danger contained in the letter of the Lord
Admiral to Ribault did not fall upon unheeding senses. Still, the
French captain was quite unprepared for the rapidity of the progress
made by the Spaniards. When, with six large vessels, they
suddenly appeared in the roadstead of May River, Ribault was at
La Caroline. His officers had been apprised of the propriety of
distrusting their neighbors, and accordingly showed themselves
suspicious as they drew nigh. It was well they did so. In the
absence of Ribault, with three of the ships at La Caroline, they were
inferior in force to the armament of Melendez, and were thus doubly
required to oppose vigilance to fraud and force. Fortunately, the
Spaniards did not reach the road till near evening, when they had

too little time for efficient operations. Hence the civility of their
deportment, and the pacific character of their assurances. They
lowered sail, cast anchor, and forbore all offensive demonstrations.
But one circumstance confirmed the apprehensions of the Frenchmen.
In the brief conversation which ensued between the parties,
after the arrival of the Spaniards, the latter inquired after the
chief captains and leaders of the French fleet, calling them by
their names and surnames, and betraying an intimate knowledge
of matters, which had been judiciously kept as secret as possible
in France. This showed, conclusively, that, before Melendez left
Spain, he was thoroughly informed by those who knew, in France,
of the condition, conduct, and strength of Ribault's armament.
And why should he be informed of these particulars, unless there
were some designs for acting upon this information? The French
captains compared notes that night, in respect to these communications,
and concurred in the belief that they stood in danger of
assault. They prepared themselves accordingly, to cut and run,
with the first appearance of dawn, or danger. With the break of
day, the Spaniards began to draw nigh to our Frenchmen;
but the sails of these were already hoisted to the breeze. Their
cables were severed, at the first sign of hostility, and the chase
begun within the greatest animation. But, if the ships of the
Huguenots were deficient in force, they had the advantage of
their enemies in speed. They showed the Spaniards a clean pair
of heels, and suffered nothing from the distant cannonade with
which their pursuers sought to cripple their flight. The chase
was continued through the day. With the approach of evening,
the Spaniards tacked ship and stood for the River Seloy, or Selooe,
called by the French, the River of Dolphins; a distance, overland,
of but eight or ten leagues from La Caroline. Finding that
they had the advantage of their enemies in fleetness, the French
vessels came about also, and followed them at a respectful distance.
Having made all the discoveries which were possible, they returned
to May River, when Ribault came aboard. They reported to
him that the great ship of the Spaniards, called “The Trinity,”
still kept the sea; that three other ships had entered the River of
Dolphins; that three others remained at its mouth; and that the
Spaniards had evidently employed themselves in putting soldiers,
with arms, munition, and provisions, upon shore. These, and
further facts, reached him from other quarters. Emoloa, one of
the Indian kings in amity with the French, sent them word that
the Spaniards had gone on shore at Seloy in great numbers—that
they had dispossessed the natives of their hourse at that village;
had put their “negro slaves, whom they had brought to labor,” in
possession of them; and were already busy in entrenching themselves
in the place, making it a regular encampment.

Not doubting that they meant to assail and harrass the settlement
of La Caroline from this point, with the view to expelling
the colonists from the country, Ribault boldly conceived the idea
of taking the initiate in the war. He first called a council of his
chief captains. They assembled in the chamber of Laudonniere,
that person being sick. Here Ribault commenced by showing the
relative condition of their own and the enemy's strength. His
conclusion, from his array of all the facts, was, that the true
policy required that he should embark with all his forces, and seek
the fleet of the Spaniards, particularly at a moment when it was
somewhat scattered; when one great ship only kept the seas;
when the rest were in no situation to support each other in the
event of sudden assault, and when the troops of the Adelantado,
partly on the shore, and partly in his vessels, were, very probably,

not in proper order to be used successfully. His argument was
not deficient in force or propriety. Certainly, with his own seven
ships, all brought together, and all his strength in compact order
and fit for service, he might reasonably hope to fall successfully
upon the divided forces and scattered squadrons of his enemy, and
sweep them equally from sea and land.

But Laudonniere had his argument also, and it was not without
its significance. He opposed the scheme of Ribault entirely; representing
the defenceless condition of the fortress, and the danger
to the fleet at sea, and upon the coast, during a season proverbially
distinguished by storms and hurricanes. His counsel
was approved of by other captains; but Ribault, an old soldier
and sea captain, was too eager to engage the enemy to listen to
arguments that seemed to partake of the pusillanimous. It was
very evident that he did not regard Laudonniere as the best of
advisers in the work of war. He took his own head accordingly,
and commanded all soldiers that belonged to his command to go
on board their vessels. Not satisfied with this force, he lessened
the strength of the garrison by taking a detachment of its best
men, leaving few to keep the post but the invalids, who, like
Laudonniere, were suffering, or but just recovering, from the diseases
of the climate in midsummer. Laudonniere expostulated,
but in vain, against this appropriation of his garrison. On the
eighth of September, Ribault left the roadstead in pursuit of the
Spaniards, and Laudonniere never beheld him again. That very
day the skies were swallowed up in tempests. Such tempests
were never beheld before upon the coast. The storms prevailed
for several days, at the end of which time, apprehending the worst,
Laudonniere mustered his command, and proceeded to put the
fortress in the best possible condition of defence. To repair the

portions of the wall which had been thrown down, to restore the
palisades stretching from the fortress to the river, was a work of
equal necessity and difficulty; which, with all the diligence of
the Frenchmen, advanced slowly, in consequence of the violence
and long continuance of the stormy weather. The whole force
left in the garrison consisted of but eighty-six persons supposed
to be capable of bearing arms. Of their doubtful efficiency we
may boldly infer from these facts. Several of them were mere
boys, with sinews yet unhardened into manhood. Some were old
men, completely hors de combat from the general exhaustion of
their energies; many were still suffering from green wounds, got
in the war with Olata Utina, and others again were wholly unprovided
with weapons. Relying upon the assumption that he should
find his enemy at sea and in force, Ribault had stripped the garrison
of its real manhood. His vessels being better sailers than
those of the Spaniards, he took for granted that he should be
able to interpose, at any moment, for the safety of La Caroline,
should any demonstration be made against it. This was assuming
quite too much. It allowed nothing for the caprices of wind and
wave; for the sudden rising of gales and tempests; and accorded
too little to the cool prudence, and calculating generalship of
Pedro Melendez, one of the most shrewd, circumspect and successful
of the Spanish generals of the period: nor, waiving these
considerations, was the policy of Ribault to be defended, when
it is remembered that he had been specially counselled that the
Spaniards had made their lodgments in force upon the shores of
Florida, not many leagues, by land, from the endangered fortress.
His single virtue of courage blinded him to the danger from the
former. He calculated first to destroy the fleet of the enemy,
thus cutting off all resource and all escape, and then to descend
upon the troops on land, before they could fortify their camp,
and overwhelm them with his superior and unembarrassed forces.
We shall see, hereafter, the issue of all these calculations. In all
probability his decision was influenced quite as much by his fanaticism
as his courage. He hated the Spaniards as Catholics,
quite as much as they hated him and his flock as heretics. This
rage blinded the judgment of the veteran soldier, upon whom fortune
was not disposed to smile.

The condition of things at La Caroline, when Ribault took his
departure, deplorable enough as we have seen, was rendered still
worse by another deficiency, the fruit of this decision of the
commander. The supplies of food which were originally brought
out for the garrison, were mostly appropriated for the uses of the
fleet, allowing for its possibly prolonged absence upon the seas.
This absorbed the better portion of the store which was necessary
for the daily consumption at La Caroline. A survey of the quantity
in the granary of the fortress, made immediately after the
departure of the fleet, led to the necessity of stinting the daily
allowance of the garrison. Thus, then, with provisions short,
with Laudonniere sick, and otherwise incompetent,—with the
men equally few and feeble, improvident hitherto, and now spiritless,—the
labors of defence and preparation at La Caroline
went forward slowly; and its watch was maintained with very
doubtful vigilance. We have seen enough, in the previous difficulties
of the commandant with his people, to form a just judgment
of the small subordination which he usually maintained.
His government was by no means improved with the obvious
necessity before him, and the hourly increase of peril. Alarmed,
at first, by the condition in which he had been left, Laudonniere,
as has been stated, proceeded with the show of diligence, rather

than its actual working, to repair the fortress, and put himself in
order for defence. But, with the appearance of bad weather, his
exertions relaxed; his people, accustomed to wait upon Providence
and the Indians,—praying little to the One and preying
much upon the others—very soon discontinued their unfamiliar
and disagreeable exertions. They could not suppose—
averse themselves to bad weather—that the Spaniards could possibly
expose themselves to chills and fevers during an equinoctial
tempest, under any idle impulses of enterprise and duty; and
their watch was maintained with very doubtful vigilance. On
the night of the nineteenth of September, Monsieur de La Vigne
was appointed to keep guard with his company. But Monsieur
de La Vigne had a tender heart, and felt for his soldiers in bad
weather. Seeing the rain continue and increase, “he pitied the
sentinels, so much moyled and wet; and thinking the Spaniards
would not have come in such a strange time, he let them depart,
and, to say the truth, hee went himself into his lodging.” But
the Spaniards appear to have been men of inferior tastes, and of
a delicacy less sympathising and scrupulous than Monsieur de
La Vigne. Bad weather appeared to agree with them, and we
shall see that they somewhat enjoyed the very showers, from the
annoyance of which our French sentinels were so pleasantly relieved.
We shall hear of these things hereafter. In the meanwhile,
let us look in upon the Adelantado of Florida, Pedro
Melendez, a strong, true man, in spite of a savage nature and a
maddening fanaticism,—let us see him and the progress of his
fortunes, where he plants the broad banner of Spain, with its castellated
towers, upon the lonely Indian waters of the Selooe, that
river which our Huguenots had previously dignified with the title
of “the Dolphin.”

2. CHAPTER II.
RIBAULT'S FORTUNES AT SELOOE.

It was on the twenty-eighth of August, the day on which the
Spaniards celebrated the festival of St. Augustine, that the Adelantado
entered the mouth of the Selooe or Dolphin River. He
was attracted by the aspect of the place, and here resolved to
establish a settlement and fortress. He gave the name of the
Saint to the settlement. Having landed a portion of his forces,
he found himself welcomed by the savages, whom he treated with
kindness and who requited him with assurances of friendship.
From them he learned something of the French settlements, and
of their vessels at the mouth of the May River, and he resolved
to attempt the surprise of his enemies. We have seen the failure
of this attempt. Disappointed in his first desire, like the tiger
who returns to crouch again within the jungle from which he has
unsuccessfully sprung, Melendez made his way back to the waters
of the Selooe, where he proposed to plant his settlement, and
which his troops were already beginning to entrench. Here he
employed himself in taking formal possession in the name of the
King of Spain, and having celebrated the Divine mysteries in a
manner at once solemn and ostentatious, he swore his officers to
fidelity in the prosecution of the expedition, upon the Holy
Sacrament.

It was while most busy with his preparations, that the fleet of
Ribault made its appearance at the mouth of the river. The
two heaviest of the Spanish vessels, being relieved of their armament
and troops, which had been transferred to the land, had
been despatched, on the approach of the threatened danger, with
all haste to Hispaniola. The two other vessels, at the bar or entrance

of the harbor, were unequal to the conflict with the superior
squadron of Ribault. Melendez was embarked in one of
them, and the three lighter vessels of the French, built especially
for penetrating shallow waters, were pressing forward to the certain
capture of their prey, for which there seemed no possibility
of escape. Melendez felt all his danger, but he had prepared
himself for a deadly struggle, and was especially confident in the
enthusiastic conviction that himself and his design were equally the
concern of Providence. It would seem that fortune was solicicitous
to justify the convictions of so much self-esteem. Ribault's
extreme caution in sounding the bar to which his vessels were
approaching, lost him two precious hours; but for which his
conquest must have been certain. There was no hope, else, unless
in some such miraculous protection as that upon which the
Spanish general seemed to count. Had these two vessels been
taken and Melendez a prisoner, the descent upon the dismayed
troops on shore, not yet entrenched, and in no preparation for
the conflict with an equal or superior enemy, and the annihilation
of the settlement must have ensued. The consequence
of such an event might have changed the whole destinies of Florida,
might have established the Huguenot colonies firmly upon
the soil, and given to the French such a firm possession of the
land, as might have kept the fleur-de-lis waving from its summits
to this very day. But the miracle was not wanting
which the Spanish Adelantado expected. In the very moment
when the hands of Ribault, were stretched to seize his prizes, the
sudden roar of the hurricane came booming along the deep. The
sea rose between the assailant and his prey,—the storm parted
them, and while the feebler vessels of Melendez, partially under
the security of the land, swept back towards the settlement
which he had made on shore, the brigantines and bateaux of Ribault
were forced to rejoin their greater vessels, and they all
bore away to sea before the gale. Under the wild norther that
rushed down upon his squadron, Ribault with a groan of rage
and disappointment, abandoned the conquest which seemed already
in his grasp.

Melendez promptly availed himself of the Providential event,
to insist among his people upon the efficiency of his prayers.
They had previously been desponding. They felt their isolation,
and exaggerated its danger. The departure of their ships
for Hispaniola, their frequent previous disasters, the dispersion
of nearly two thirds of the squadron with which they had left the
port of Cadiz, but three months before; the labors and privations
which already began to press upon them with a novel
force; all conspired to dispirit them, and made them despair of
a progress in which they were likely to suffer the buffetings only,
without any of the rewards of fortune;—and when they beheld
the approaching squadron of the French, in force so superior as
to leave no doubt of the capture of their only remaining vessels,
they yielded themselves up to a feeling of utter self-abandonment,
to which the stern, grave self-reliance of Melendez afforded no
encouragement. But when, with broad sweep of arm, he pointed
to the awful rising of the great billows of the sea, the wild
raging of cloud and storm in the heavens, the scudding flight
of the trembling ships of Ribault, their white wings gradually
disappearing in distance and darkness like feeble birds borne
recklessly forward in the wild fury of the tempest, he could, with
wonderful potency, appeal to his people to acknowledge the
wonders that the Lord had done for them that day.

“Call you this the cause of our king only, in which we are

engaged my brethren? Oh! shallow vanity! And yet, you say
rightly. It is the cause of our king—the greatest of all kings—
the king of kings; and he will make it triumphant in all lands,
even though the base and the timid shall despair equally of themselves
and of Him! We shall never, my brethren, abandon this
cause to which we have sworn our souls, in life and death, without
incurring the eternal malediction of the Most High God,
forever blessed be his name! We are surrounded by enemies, my
friends; we are few and we are feeble; but what is our might,
when the tempest rises like a wall between us and our foes, and
in our greatest extremity, the hand of God stretches forth from
the cloud, and plucks us safely from the danger. Be of good
heart, then; put on a fearless courage; believe that the cause is
holy in which ye strive, and the God of Battles will most surely
range himself upon our side!”

Loud cries of exultation from his people answered this address.
A thousand voices renewed their vows of fidelity, and pledged
themselves to follow blindly wherever he should lead. He commanded
that a solemn mass of the Holy Spirit should be said that
night, and that all the army should be present. He vouchsafed
no farther words. Nothing, he well knew, that he could say,
could possibly add to the miraculous event that had saved their
vessels, before their own eyes, in the very moment of destruction.
“Our prayers, our faith, my brethren; to these we owe
the saving mercies of the Blessed Jesus!”

3. CHAPTER III.
MELENDEZ AT SELOOE.

But the enthusiasm excited by the dispersion of Ribault's vessels,
and the escape of their own, was of short-lived duration
among the Spaniards at Selooe. Human nature may obey a
grateful impulse, and,while it lasts, will be insensible to common
dangers and common necessities; but the enthusiasm which excites
and strengthens for a season, is one also which finally exhausts;
and when the enervation which succeeds to a high-strung
exultation, is followed by great physical trials, and the continued
pressure of untoward events, the creature nature is quite too apt
to triumph over that nobler spirit whose very intensity is fatal to
its length of life. The sign of providential favor which they had
beheld wrought visibly in their behalf, the inspiriting language of
their stern and solemn leader, the offices of religion, meant to
evoke the presence of the Deity, and to secure, by appropriate
rites, his farther protection, of which they had recently witnessed
so wonderful a manifestation; these wore away in their
effects upon our Spaniards, and in the toils and sufferings which
they were subsequently to endure.

Perhaps nothing more greatly depresses the ordinary nature
than an abode in strange and savage regions during a prevalence
of cheerless, unfriendly weather. The soul recoils as it were
upon itself, under the ungenial pressure from without, and looking
entirely within, finds nothing but wants which it is impossible to
satisfy. Memory then studiously recals, as if for the purposes
of torture and annoyance, the aspects of the beloved ones
who are far from us in foreign lands. The joys which we have
had with old and loving associates, the sweets of dear homes, and

the sounds of friendly voices, these are the treasures which she
conjures up at such periods, in mournful contrast with present
privations and all manner of denial. But if, in addition to these,
we are conscious of accumulating dangers; if the storm and
savage howl without; if hunger craves without being answered,
and thirst raves for the drop of moisture to cool its tongue, in
vain, we must not wonder if the ordinary nature sinks under its
sorrows and apprehension, and loses all the elastic courage which
would prompt endeavor and conduct to triumph. The master
mind alone, may find itself strong under these circumstances—the
man of inexorable will, great faith, and a far-sighted appreciation
of the future and its compensations. But it is the master
mind only which bears up thus greatly. The common herd is
made of very different materials, and in quite another mould.

Don Pedro de Melendez was one of the few minds thus extraordinarily
endowed. His prudence, keeping due pace with his
religious fanaticism, approved him a peculiar character; a man
of rare energies, extraordinary foresight and indomitable will.
Resolute for the destruction of the heretics of La Caroline, he
was yet one of that class of persons—how few—who can forego
the premature attempt to gratify a raging appetite, in recognition
of those embarrassing circumstances, which if left unregarded,
would only operate for its defeat. He could wait the season,
with all patience, when desire might be crowned with fruition.
Yet was his thirst a raging one—a master passion—absorbing every
other in his soul. All that had taken place on land and sea, had
been certainly foreseen by him. Thus had he dispatched his
ships seasonably to Hispaniola, as well for their security, as to
afford him succor. If he doubted for the safety of those which
remained to him, on the approach of Ribault, he was relieved of

his doubts by his faith in the interposition of the Deity, and went
forth to the encounter, himself heading the forlorn hope, as it
were, without any misgivings of the result. He knew that the
Deity would, in some manner, make himself manifest in succor
for the true believer, even then engaged in the maintenance of
His cause. He had foreseen the threatening aspects of the heavens,
the wild tumults of the sea, the sullen and angry caprices
of the winds. He felt that storm and terror were in prospect,
and that they were meant as his defences against his enemy!
But this did not prevent him from adopting all proper human
precautions. He did not peril his prows beyond the shoals which
environed the entrance to his harborage. He did not trust them
beyond the natural bars at the mouth of the Selooe, leaving them
to the unrestrained fury of the demon winds that sweep the blue
waters of the gulf. Nor, assuming the bare possibility that the protection
of the Deity might be withheld from the true believer, as
much for the trial of his valor as his faith, in the moment of encounter
with the heretic, was the Adelantado neglectful of the means for
further struggle, should the assailants, successful with his shipping,
approach the shores of Selooe in the endeavor to destroy
his army. This he sought to protect by the best possible defences.
His troops were under arms in order for battle. Every
possible advantage of trench and picket was employed for giving
them additional securities. His people had already taken possession
of the Indian village, from whence the savages had been
expelled; and their dwellings were converted into temporary fortresses,
each garrisoned with its selected band. It is wonderful,
how the veteran chieftain toiled, in the endeavor to secure his position.
While he felt how little the Deity needed the strength of
man, in working out the purposes of destiny, he well knew how
necessary it was that man should show himself worthy, by his
prudence and preparations, of the intervention and the care of
Deity.

We have seen the issue of the unfortunate attempt of Ribault
upon his enemy; with the absence of immediate danger, the first
tumults of exultation on the part of the Spaniards, subsided into
a sullen and humiliating repose. As night came on, they momently
began to feel the increasing annoyances of their situation.
That they were in temporary security from the heretic French,
left them free to consider, and to feel, the insecurity and the
unfriendly solitude of their situation. The frail palm covered
huts of the Floridian savages, on the banks of their now raging
river, with the tempest roaring among the affrighted forest trees,
afforded but a sorry shelter to their numerous hosts. Darkness
and thick night closed in upon them in their dreary and comfortless
abodes, and their hearts sunk appalled beneath the terrific
bursts of thunder that seemed to rock the very earth upon
which they stood. They were not the tried veterans of Spain.
Many among them wore weapons for the first time, and all were
totally inexperienced in that foreign hemisphere, in which the
elements wore aspects of terror which had never before entered
their imaginations. Their officers were mostly able men and
good soldiers, but even these had enjoyed but small experience in
the new world. The levies of Melendez had been hurriedly
made, with the view to anticipate the progress of Ribault. They
were not such as that iron-hearted leader would have chosen for
the terrible warfare which he had in view. Chilled by the ungenial
atmosphere, confounded with torrents such as they had
never before beheld, and which seemed to threaten the return of
the deluge, they exaggerated the evils of their situation and

feared the worst. They were not ill-advised upon the subject of
their own strength and resources, and whatever they might hope
in respect to the probable ill-fortunes of Ribault and his fleet, they
knew him to be an experienced soldier, and that his armament
was superior, while his numbers were quite equal to their own.
They now knew that they were the objects of his search and hate,
as he had been of theirs, and they still looked with dread to his
reappearance, suddenly, and the coming of a conflict which should
add new terrors to the storm. They could not conceive the extent
of the securities which they enjoyed, and fancied that with
a far better acquaintance with the country than they possessed,
he would reappear among them at the moment when least expected,
and that they should perish beneath the fury of his fierce
assault.

While thus they brooded over their situation, officers and men
cowering in the frail habitations of the Indians, through which
the rushing torrents descended without impediment, extinguishing
their fires, and leaving them with no light but that fitful one,
the fierce flashes from the clouds, which threatened them with
destruction while illuminating the pale faces of each weary
watcher;—Pedro Melendez, strengthened by higher if not a holier
support, disdained the miserable shelter of the hovels where they
crouched together. He trod the shore and forest pathways
without sign of fear or shows of disquiet or annoyance. He
smiled at the sufferings which he yet strove to alleviate. He
opened his stores for the relief of his people, yet partook of none
himself. He gave them food and wine of his own, even while he
smiled scornfully to see them eat and drink. His solicitude
equally provided against their dangers and their fears. He
placed the necessary guards against the one, and soothed or

mocked the other. He alone appeared unmoved amidst the
storm, and might be seen with unhelmed head, passing from
cot to cot, and from watch to watch, urging vigilance, providing
relief, and encouraging the desponding with a voice of cheer
His eye took in without shrinking, all the aspects of the storm.
He gazed with uplifted spirit as the wild red flashes cleft the
great black clouds which enveloped the forests in a shroud.
“Ay!” he exclaimed, “verily, O Lord! thou hast taken this
work into thine own hands!” And thus he went to and fro,
without complaint, or suffering, or fatigue, till his lieutenants
with shame beheld the example of the veteran whom they had
not soul or strength to emulate. His deportment was no less a
marvel than a reproach to his people. They could not account
for that seemingly unseasonable delight which was apparent in his
face, in the exulting tones of his voice, and the eager impulse of
his action. That a glow-like inspiration should lighten up his
features, and give richness and power to his voice, while they
cowered from the storm and darkness in fear and trembling,
seemed to them indications rather of madness than of wisdom.
But in truth, it was inspiration. Melendez had been visited by
one of those sudden flashes of thought which open the pathway
to a great performance. A brave design filled his soul; a sudden
bright conception, to the proper utterance of which he hurried
with a due delight. He summoned his chief leaders to
consultation in the great council house of the tribe of Selooe, a
round fabric of mixed earth and logs, with a frail palm leaf
thatch, fragments of which, the fierce efforts of the tempest
momently tore away. The rain rushed through the rents of ruin,
the wind shrieked through the numerous breaches in the walls,
but Melendez stood in the midst, heedless of these annoyances,
or only heedful of them so far as to esteem them services and
blessings. He knew the people with whom he had to deal, their
fears, their weaknesses, and discontents, the base nature of many
of their desires, and the utter incapacity of all to realize the
intense enthusiasm which shone within his soul. He could scorn
them, but he had to use them. He despised their imbecility, but
felt how necessary it was too temporize with their moods, and
make them rather forgetful of their infirmities, than openly to
denounce and mock them. His eye was fastened upon certain
of his chiefs in especial, whose weaknesses were more likely to
endanger his objects than those of the rest, since these were associated
with a certain degree of pretension arising from their
occupance of place. But there is no one in more complete possession
of the subtleties of the politician, than the fanatic of intense
will. All his powers are concentrated upon the single object,
and he values this too highly to endanger it by any rashness.
He can make allowances for the weaker among the brethren,
so long as they have the power to yield service; he only cuts
them down ruthlessly, when,like the tree bringing forth no fruit,
the question naturally occurs to the politician, “Why cumbereth
in the ground?” Melendez was prepared to act the politician
amidst all his fanaticism. For this reason, though his resolution
was inexorably taken, he summoned his officers to a solemn deliberation—a
council of war—to determine upon what should be
done in the circumstances in which they stood.

4. CHAPTER IV.
THE COUNCIL OF WAR AT SELOOE.

It was midnight when the assemblage of the Spanish captains
took place in the great council house of the savages of Selooe.
Already, that night, had the place been consecrated by the performance
of a solemn mass in honor of the Holy Spirit. The
purposes of the present gathering were, in the opinion of Melendez,
not less honorable to the Deity. Rude logs strewn about the
building, even as they had been employed by the red-men, furnished
seats for the Spanish officers. They surrounded a great
fire of resinous pine, which now blazed brightly in the centre of
the apartment. In this respect the scene had rather the appearance
of savage rites than of Christian council. In silence,the
nobles of Castile, of Biscay and the Asturias took their places.
Their eyes were vacant, and their hearts were depressed. They
caught nothing of that exulting blaze which lightened up the features
of Melendez.

“Oh! ye of little faith!” he exclaimed, rising in their midst,
“is it thus that ye give acknowlegment to God for the blessings
ye have received at his hands, and for that care of the Guardian
Shepherd, to which ye, thus far, owe your safety? Have ye
already lost the memory of that wondrous sign wrought this day
for your deliverance,—when your eyes beheld a wall of storm and
thunder pass between your captain and his little barques, and the
overwhelming squadron of the heretic Ribault? Was this manifestation
of his guardian providence made for us in vain? Said
it not, plainly as the voice of Heaven might say, that our mission
was not ended—that there was other work to be wrought by our

hands, and that he was with us, to help us in the great achievement
of his purposes. Lo! you now, the very storm, that rages
about us, and beneath the terrors of which ye tremble, is but a
further proof of his guardianship. Under cover of the rages of
the tempest, shall we press on to the complete achievement of our
work. We shall march to the conquest of La Caroline,—we shall
destroy these arch-heretics—these enemies of God, in the very
fortress of their strength—in the very place which they have set
apart, in the vain hope of security, as their home of refuge!”

Audible murmurs here arrested the speaker.

“What is it that ye fear, my children?” continued Melendez.

Then some among them cried out—“What madness is it that
we hear? Shall we, thus enfeebled as we are, with our great ships
speeding to Hispaniola, here, left as we are on the wild shores of
the savage, not yet entrenched, shall we divide our strength, in
the hope to conquer La Caroline, leaving to the heretic Ribault
to fall upon our camp when we depart, to pursue us as we tread
the great forests of the Floridian, and to destroy us between the
power which he brings and that which awaits us at La Caroline?”

“Oh! my brethren! would ye could see with my vision! Ribault
will not trouble our camp, neither will he pursue us in our
absence. He speeds before the terrors of the tempest. He flies
from the destruction which will scarcely suffer him to escape. A
voice cries to me that he already perishes beneath the engulphing
waters of the Mexican sea; or is cast upon the bleak and
treacherous shores and islands which guard the domain of the
Floridian. Even if he should escape these dangers, weeks must pass
before he can return to these waters of Selooe, the heathen empire
of which we have consecrated with the name and confided to the
holy keeping of the blessed St. Augustine! This tempest is no summer

gale, subsiding as rapidly as it begins. It will rage thus for
many days. In that time, encouraged by the Lord, we shall pass
the forest wastes that lie between us and La Caroline. With five
hundred men, and a host of these red warriors, we shall penetrate
in less than four days to the fortress of the heretics—and while
they dream that they sleep securely under the shadows of the
tempest, we shall rush upon their slumbers, and give them to
sleep eternally. My valiant comrades, this is the resolution
which I have taken; but I would hear your counsel. I would
not that ye should not cheerfully adopt the resolve which is assuredly
a dictate from Heaven itself. For, if we destroy not these
heretics, they will destroy us. If we cut off the people of La
Caroline ere Ribault shall return, his fortress is ours, the cannon
of which we shall turn upon him. It is a war a l'outrance between
us. They will give us no quarter: they shall have none.
This tempest gives us the assurance that we shall have no danger
from Ribault, if we seize the precious moments for our enterprise,
when he is vainly striving with the tempests of the deep, and
vainly striving against the winds that bear him away hourly still
farther from the scene of our achievements.”

We need not pursue the deliberations of the Spanish council. It
is enough if we report the result. In the speeches of Melendez,
already made, we see the full force of his argument, which was sound
and sensible, and could only be opposed by the fears of those who
sought to avoid exposure, who dreaded the elements, the unknown
in their condition, and who shrunk from enterprises which promised
nothing but hard blows, and which tasked their hardihood
beyond all their past experience in war. There were arguments and
pleas put in by the over-cautious and the timid, to all of which
the Adelantado listened patiently, but to all of which he opposed

his arguments, based at once upon the obvious policy natural to
their circumstances, and to the equally obvious requisitions of the
Deity, as shown by an interposition in their favor, which they
were all prepared to acknowledge as fervently as Melendez. His
quiet but inflexible will prevailed; the council gradually became
of his mind. The unsatisfied were at least silenced, while those
whom he convinced were clamorous in their plaudits of a scheme
which they ascribed, as Melendez did himself, to the immediate
revelation of Heaven.

“I thank you, noble gentlemen,” were the words of the Adelantado,
as they separated for the night. “That our opinions so
well correspond increases my confidence in our plan. Not that I
had doubts before. I had thy assurance, oh! Lord! that this
adventure had thy heavenly sanction. In te Domine speravi,—let
us never be confounded! And now, my comrades, let us separate.
With the dawn, though the storm rages still, as I hope and believe
it will, we must prepare for this enterprise. We shall choose
five hundred of our best soldiers, carry with us provisions for eight
days, and in that time our work will be done. Our force will be
divided into six companies, each with its flag and captain, and a
select body of pioneers, armed with axes, shall be sent before to
open a pathway through the forest. That we have no guide is a
misfortune; but God will provide so that we fail not. Fortunately
we know in what quarter lies La Caroline—the distance is
known also, and we shall not go wide, if we are only resolved to
seek and to destroy the heretics with firm and valiant hearts,
filled with a proper faith in heaven.”

Even as he concluded, one at the entrance of the council-house
entreated entrance. It proved to be a priest, the Reverend

Father Salvandi, who brought with him a strange man, overgrown
with beard, and partly in the costume of a mariner.

“My son,” said the priest, “here is the very man you want.
This is one Francis Jean, a Frenchman,—once a heretic, but
now, conscious of his errors, and repentant in the hands of Holy
Church. He hath recanted of his sins, and hath come back willingly
to the folds of Christ. He hath fled from La Caroline, from
the cruelties of Laudonniere, the heretic, and will report what he
knows, touching the condition of the Lutheran fortress and the
people thereof.”

“Said I not, my comrades, that God would provide!” cried
Melendez in exultation. “This is the very man whom we want.
What art thou?”—to the Frenchman.

“I was a heretic, my lord,—I am now a Christian. I was
beaten by Laudonniere, and I fled from him, taking off one of his
barques. He hath sworn my life; I would take his. I know the
route to La Caroline. I will show the way to your soldiers.”

“Ah! Laudonniere will hang you, if he gets you into his
power.”

“For that reason, my lord, I would have you get him in
yours.”

“You shall have your wish. The Lord hath indeed spoken!
Your name?”

“Francis Jean!”

“Be faithful—guide my people to this fortress of the heretics,
and you shall be rewarded. But, if treacherous, Francis Jean,
you shall hang to the first tree of the forest!”

“Doubt me not, my lord. I will do you good service!”

“Be it so! My comrades—the Lord hath provided. Señor
Martin de Ochoa, take this man into thy keeping. Do him no

hurt,—let him be well entreated, but let him not escape from thy
sight.”

The Reverend Father Salvandi bestowed his benediction upon
the kneeling circle, and they separated for the night. And still
the storm roared without, and still the rains descended, but the
heart of Melendez rejoiced in the tempest, as it were an angel
sent by Heaven to his succor.

5. CHAPTER V.
THE DINNER-PARTY OF MELENDEZ.

But the consolations of Melendez were not those of his people,
nor did they arrive at his conclusions. It was soon bruited abroad
that he was to march through the tempest upon La Caroline, and
his soldiers spoke the open language of sedition. Their clamors
reached the ears of Melendez, but he was one of those wonderful
politicians who know what an error it is, at times, to be too quick
of sight and hearing. The discontents of the canaille gave him
little concern; yet he watched them without seeming to do so;
and employed processes of his own for inducing their quiet, without
showing himself either apprehensive or angry. Some of his
officers were guilty of seditious speeches also—some of those
whom his will had silenced in council, rather than his arguments
convinced. He took his measures with these in a simple manner,
without allowing his preparations to be arrested for a moment.
One of these officers, named St. Vincent, positively declared his
purpose not to go upon an expedition where they would only
get their throats cut; and that if Melendez persisted in his mad

design, he would embark with all those left at St. Augustine, and
take his route back to Hispaniola. This same person, with the
Señors Francis Recalde and Diego de Maya, openly and boldly
remonstrated with the Adelantado against the enterprise. He answered
them by inviting them, and all other of his officers who
had been of the council, to a great dinner which he prepared for
them that day. Here he gave them quite a splendid entertainment,
and in the midst of their hilarity he said—

“That it was with very great surprise he discovered that the
secret councils of the last night had been improperly revealed to
all the world—councils of war,” said he, “my comrades, are matters
the value of which depend wholly upon their secresy. It
would be my duty to find out and punish the authors of this
wretched infidelity; but I am too well persuaded of the mercies
of God to myself and to all of us, not to be indulgent to the faults
of our people. This offence, accordingly, is forgiven, no matter
who shall have been the offender. But, hereafter, I may say that
all future seditions among the soldiers shall be punished in the
officers. It is from the officers only that the soldiers are led into
insubordination. They shall answer for their men. Let it be
known, however, that all who lose heart, who tremble at this enterprise,
to which God himself has summoned us, are at liberty to
remain. I am satisfied, however, that the greater number are
prepared to depart with me the moment I give the signal, under
the proper example of their captains. Still, I am willing to hear
counsel from you touching this expedition. I am not mulish enough
to adhere to a resolution when better counsels are given against it.
Speak freely your minds, therefore, it you think otherwise than
myself; remembering this only, that our resolution, once taken, if
there shall be one so bold as to oppose words where he should do

his duty, he shall be cashiered upon the spot. And now, my comrades,
this wine of Xeres is not amiss. Let us drink. We are of
one mind, I perceive, in council; let our unanimity extend to our
drink. I drink to the speedy overthrow of heresy, and the spread
of the true faith; both certain where the sword of valor is always
ready to obey the voice of God!”

The toast was drank with enthusiasm. The discontents were
silenced. How should it be otherwise where the authority was so
generous, conveying its suggestions through the generous wines of
Xeres, and only hinting at the possibility of disgrace and punishment,
in the occurrence of events scarcely possible to those who
claimed to draw the sword of valor in the service of the Deity.
The Adelantado gave no farther heed to the factions of his army.
He probably adopted the best precautions. It is true that St.
Vincent still mouthed threats of disobedience, but the policy of
Melendez had no ears in his quarter; and the preparations went
on, without interruption, for the march against La Caroline!

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE STORMING OF LA CAROLINE.

The preparations for departure were complete. The Adelantado
himself marched at the head of his vanguard, the immediate command
of which was confided to Señor Martin de Ochoa, with a
troop of Biscayans and Asturians, armed with axes, for clearing
their pathway through the forest. With these went the traitor,
Francis Jean, who had abandoned his religion and La Caroline together.
He was watched closely, but proved faithful to his new

masters. Dreary, indeed, was the progress of Melendez. The
storm prevailed all the time. The rain soaked their garments,
and it was with difficulty they could protect their ammunition and
provisions. The fourth day of the march they were within five
miles of La Caroline, but arrested by an immense tract of swamp,
in passing which the water was up to their middles. The whole
country was flooded, and the freshet momently increased, in consequence
of the continued rains. These had become more terrible
in volume than ever. The windows of heaven seemed again
opened for another deluge. The hearts of the Spaniards sunk, as
their toils and sufferings increased. More than a hundred slunk
away, fell off on the route, and made their way over the ground
which they had trodden, reporting the worst of disasters to their
comrades, defeat and destruction, by way of excusing their cowardice.
But the indomitable courage and unbending will of the
adelantado, his presence and voice of command in every quarter,
still prevailed to bring his remaining battalions forward. It was
in vain that his troops muttered curses upon his head. Fernan
Perez, an ensign of the company of St. Vincent, was bold enough
to say, that “he could not comprehend how so many brave gentlemen
should let themselves be led by a wretched Asturian
mountaineer—a fellow who knew no more about carrying on war
on land than a horse!”

The ensign had a great deal more to say of the same sort, of
which Melendez was not ignorant, but of which he took no notice.
He was a sage dissimulator who answered discontent with policy,
and strengthened his people's hearts by divine revelation. He
called another council of his officers. He told them of his prayers
to and consultations of Heaven, seeking to know the will of God
only in the performance of his work,—persuaded that each of

them had made like prayers all night; that they were accordingly
in the very mood of mind to resolve what was to be done in their
extremity. He made this to appear as bad as possible, describing
them as “harrassed with fatigue, shorn of strength, without bread,
munitions or any human resource.”

Some one counselled their retreat to St. Augustine before the
Huguenots should discover them.

“Very good advice,” quoth Melendez, “but suffer me still another
word. The prospect is undoubtedly a gloomy one, but look
you, there are the portals of La Caroline. Now, it may be just
as well to see how affairs stand with our enemies. According to
all appearances they are not in force. We may not have the power
to take the place, but it is well to see whether the place can be
taken. If we retreat now, we are not sure that we shall do so securely.
They will probably hunt us through the forest, at every
step of the way, encouraged by our show of weakness and timidity.
It is not improbable that we may surprise this fort. Men seldom
look either for friends or enemies in bad weather. I doubt if they
can sustain a bold assault; but if they do, and we fail, we have
the consolation at least of having done all that was possible for
men.”

The assault was agreed upon; and in a transport of joy, the
Adelantado sunk upon his knees, in the mire where he stood, and
called upon his troops to do likewise, imploring the succor of the
God of battles.

He gave his orders with rapid resolution and according to a
fixed design already entertained. Taking with him Francis Jean,
the renegade, he put himself at the head of one division of his
troops, and gave other bodies to the Captains Martin de Ochoa,
Francis Recalde, Andres Lopez Patino and others, and, covered

by the midnight darkness from observation—with all sounds of
drum and trumpet stilled—with the echoes of their advancing
squadrons hushed in the fall of torrents and the roar of sweeping
winds—the assailants made their way, slowly and painfully but
without staggering, toward the silent bastions of La Caroline.

Under the guidance of the renegade Frenchman the Spanish
captains made a complete reconnoissance of the fortress. A portion
of it was still unrepaired, and this they penetrated without
difficulty. We have seen, in a previous chapter, with what
doubtful vigilance the lieutenants of Laudonniere performed their
duties. It will not be forgotten that, on the night of the 19th
September, the charge of the watch lay with Captain de la Vigne;
nor will it be forgotten with what pity that amiable captain regarded
the condition of his sentinels, exposed to such unchristian
weather. We left the fortress of La Caroline in most excellent
repose; the storm prevailing without, and the garrison asleep
within. It was while they slept that Don Pedro de Melendez was
praying to heaven that he might be permitted to assist them in
their slumbers, changing the temporary into an eternal sleep.
Thus passed the night of the 19th September over La Caroline.
The dawn of the 20th found the Spaniards, in several divisions,
about to penetrate the fortress. Two of their leaders, Martin de
Ochoa and the master of the camp had already done so. They
had examined the place at their leisure, passing through an unrepaired
breach of one of the walls. Returning, with the view to
making their report, they had mistaken one pathway for another,
and encountered a drowsy Frenchman, who, starting at their approach,
demanded “Qui vive?” Ochoa promptly answered,
“France,” and the man approached them only to receive a stunning
blow upon the head. The Frenchman recovered himself instantly,

drew his sword, and made at the assailant, but the master of the
camp seconded the blow of Ochoa, and the Frenchman was brought
to the ground. The sword of the Spaniard was planted at his
throat, and he was forbidden to speak under pain of death. He
had cried aloud, but had failed to give the alarm, and this pointed
suggestion silenced him from farther attempts. He was conducted
to Melendez, who, determined to see nothing but good auguries,
cried out, without caring to hear the report—“My friends, God
is with us! We are already in possession of the fort.” At these
words the assault was given. The captive Frenchman was slain,
as the most easy method of relieving his captors of their charge,
and the Spaniards darted pell-mell into the fort, the fierce Adelantado
still leading in the charge, with the cry—“Follow me, comrades,
God is for us!” Two Frenchmen, half-naked, rushed
across his path. One of them he slew, and Don Andres Patino
the other. They had no time allowed them to give the alarm;
but just at this moment a soldier of the garrison who was less
drowsy than the rest, or more apprehensive of his duty, had sauntered
forth from the shelter of his quarters and stood upon the
ramparts, looking forth in the direction of a little “sandie knappe,”
or hill, down which a column of the Spaniards were rushing in order
of battle. This vision brought him to the full possession of all
his faculties. He gave the cri de guerre, the signal of battle, but
as he wheeled about to procure his weapons, he beheld other detachments
of the Spaniards making their way through the unrepaired
and undefended breaches in the wall. Still he cried aloud,
even as he fled, and Laudonniere started from his slumbers only
to hear the startling cry—“To arms! to arms! The enemy is
upon us!”

The warning came too late. The amiable weakness which

withdrew the sentinels from the walls because of the weather, was
not now to be repaired by any energy or courage. The garrison
was aroused, but not permitted to rally or embody themselves.
Melendez with his troop had reached the corps de garde quite as
soon as Laudonniere. The latter—lately supposed to have usurped
royal honors—was very soon convinced that the only object before
him was the safety of his own life. With the first alarm, he
caught up sword and buckler, and rushed valiantly enough into
the court. But he only appeared to be made painfully conscious
that everything was lost. His appeals to his soldiers only brought
his enemies about him, who butchered his men as they approached
their guns, and who now appeared in numbers on every side, in
full possession of the fortress. The magazines were already in
their hands, and a desperate effort of Laudonniere's artillerists to
recover them, was followed only by their own destruction. The
most vigorous resistance, hand to hand, was made on the southwest
side of the fort. Here the Frenchmen opposed themselves
with cool and determined courage, to the entrance of the enemy.
Hither Laudonniere hurried, crying aloud to his men in the language
of encouragement, and doing his utmost, by the most headlong
valor, to repair the mischiefs of his feeble rule and most unhappy
remissness of authority. Verily, to those who saw how
well he carried himself in this the moment of his worst despair,
the past errors of the unhappy Laudonniere had been forgiven if
not forgotten. But the struggle, on the part of any valor, was
utterly in vain. The Spaniards had won a footing already too secure
for dispossession. Led on by Pedro Melendez, with ever and
anon his fanatic war-cry—“God is with us, my comrades,” ringing
in their ears, now thoroughly excited by the earnest of success
which they enjoyed, in overwhelming numbers and in the full faith
that they fought the battles of Holy Church, the Spaniards were
irresistible. They mocked the tardy valor of our Huguenots, their
feeble force, and purposeless attempts. At length the party led
by Melendez confronted Laudonniere. The Spanish chieftain
knew not the person of his enemy. But the renegade Frenchman,
Francis Jean, discovered his ancient leader, and the desire
for revenge, which had led to his treachery, filled his heart with
exultation at the prospect of the gratification of his passion. He
cried to Melendez:

“That is he! That is the captain of the heretics—that is
Laudonniere!”

“Ah, traitor! Is it thou?” cried Laudonniere. “Let me
but live to slay thee, and I care nothing for the rest.”

With these words he sprang upon the traitor guide, and would
have slain him at a stroke, but for the interposition of Melendez.
He thrust back the renegade, and confronted the captain of the
Huguenots. But Laudonniere shrank from the conflict, for Melendez
was followed by his troop; and, saving one man, a stout
soldier named Bartholomew, who fought manfully with a heavy
partizan, he stood utterly alone and unsupported. He gave
back, or rather was drawn back by Bartholomew; but now that
Melendez and his people had seen the particular prey whom they
had been seeking, they rushed with fiercer appetite than ever to
make him captive. The efforts of the Spaniards were then redoubled.
The fierce bigot Pedro Melendez himself—a stalwart
warrior, clad in heavy black armor of woven mail, with a great
white cross upon his breast—made the most desperate efforts to
bring Laudonniere to the last passage at arms; and for a time the
Frenchman, though quite too light and enfeebled by sickness for
the contest with such a champion, was eager to indulge him. He

struggled with the friendly arm which perforce drew him away, and
great was his rage, though impotent, when the rush of a number
of his own fugitives passing between at this moment, hurried him
onward as by the downward rush of a torrent, to the safety of his
life if not to the increase of his honor. At that moment Laudonniere
had gladly redeemed by a glorious death, at the hands of the
fierce Asturian, the errors and the failures of his life. But this
was denied him, and, vainly struggling against the tide of fugitives,
he was swept with them in the direction of the corps de garde.
Laudonniere yielded in this manner only foot by foot, striking at
the foe and at his own runagates alike, and receiving upon his shield,
with the dexterity of an accomplished cavalier, the assault of a
score of pikes which pressed beyond the heavy blade of Melendez.
When at length the retreating Frenchmen had reached the court
of the fortress, they scattered headlong, finding themselves confronted
by new and consolidated masses of the enemy, and each of
them sought incontinently his own method of escape. “Sauve
qui peut!” was the cry, and the crowd by which Laudonniere had
hitherto been borne unwillingly along, now melted away on every
hand, leaving him again almost alone in the presence of the
Spaniard. And still the faithful fellow, Bartholomew, clung to his
superior, saving him from the rashness which would only have
flung away his own life without an object. He hurried along his
unhappy and now reckless captain, taking his way into the yard
of Laudonniere's lodging. Thither they were closely pursued, and,
but for a tent that happened to be standing in the place, they
must have been taken. But, passing behind this tent, while the
Spaniards were busied in groping within it, or cutting away the
cords,

“Hither, now, Monsieur René,” cried Bartholomew, grasping

the commandant by the wrist and drawing him along; “follow
me now and we shall surely escape. They have left the breach
open by the west, near to the lodging of Monsieur D'Erlach, and
by that route shall we gain the thickets.”

“Ah!” cried Laudonniere, long and grateful recollections of
a tried fidelity, to which he had not always done justice, extorting
from him a groan; “Ah! this had never happened had Jean Ribault
left me Alphonse!”

And the tears gushed from his eyes, and he paused and thrust
the point of his sword into the earth with vexation and despair.

“We have not a moment, Monsieur René,” cried the soldier
with impatience; “the tent is down; the Spaniards are foiled for
a moment only. They will be sure to seek you in the breach.”

“There! there! indeed!” cried the commandant bitterly,
“there should they have found me at first; but now!—Lead on!
lead on! my good fellow. As thou wilt!”

Soon our fugitives had cleared the breach, and were now without
the walls. The misty shroud which covered the face of nature,
and enveloped as with a sea the thickets to which they were making,
favored their escape. The unhappy Laudonniere found himself
temporarily safe in the forests; but if remote from present
danger, they were not so far from the fortress as to be insensible
to the work of death and horror which was in progress there, the
evidence of which came to their ears in the shrieks of women for
mercy, and the groans and cries of tortured men.

“Slay! slay! Smite and spare not!” was the dreadful command
of Melendez. “The groans of the heretic make music in
the ears of Heaven!”

Laudonniere shut his ears, and with his companion plunged
deeper into the forests. Here he found other fugitives like himself,

and others subsequently joined him; some were wounded even
unto death, others slightly; all were terror-stricken, shuddering
with horror, incapable from wo and agony. What had they beheld,
what endured, and what was the prospect before them but of
massacre? A hasty council was convened among the party, and
the advice of Laudonniere—he could command no longer—was,
that they should bury themselves among the reeds and within the
marshes which lay along the river, out of sight, until they could
make their small vessels, by which the mouth of the river was still
guarded, aware of their situation. But this council was agreeable
to a part only, of that bewildered company. Another portion
preferred to push for one of the Indian villages, at some little distance
in the forests, where, hitherto, they had found a friendly
reception. They persevered in this purpose, leaving Laudonniere
and a few others in the marshes. Hither, then, these hapless fugitives
sped, till they could go no farther; and until their commandant
himself, still unrecovered from the chill and fever which
had seized him at the first coming on of autumn, declared his inability
to go deeper into the thicket, though it promised him the
safety which he sought. He was already up to his neck in water,
and such was his weakness, that he was about to yield to his fate.
But for the faithful and unwearied support of one of his soldiers,
Jean du Chemin, who held him above the water when he would
have sunk, and who stuck by him all the rest of that day, and
through the long and dreary night which followed, he must have
perished. Meanwhile, two of his soldiers swam off in the direction
of the vessels. Fortunately for those swimmers, those in the
vessels had been already apprized of the taking of the fort by Jean
de Hais, the master carpenter, who had made his escape the first,
by dropping down the river in a shallop. The boats of the vessels
were immediately pushed up the stream, and succeeded in picking
up the swimmers, and, finally, when Laudonniere and his faithful
companions were both about to sink, in extricating them from
their marshy place of refuge. Eighteen or twenty of the fugitives
(among whom was the celebrated painter, Jaques le Moyne de
Morgues, to whom we owe mostly the illustrations of Floridian
scenery, costume, and lineaments preserved in De Bry and other
collections) were rescued in this manner, and conveyed on board
the ships. These, with Laudonniere, subsequently made their
way, after many disasters, perils of the sea and land, a detention
in England, where they were again indebted to the humanity of
the English for succor and sympathy. An artful attempt was
made by Melendez to obtain possession of these vessels, but he
was baffled. They sailed from the river of May on the 25th September,
1565, thus abandoning forever the design of planting
themselves and their religion permanently in Florida. Let us now
look to the farther proceedings of the conquerors in possession of
their prize!

7. CHAPTER VII.
Væ VICTIS.

And now,it falls to our lot to record the most cruel passage in
all this history; to relate the mournful and terrible fate which befel
the wretched Huguenots taken at the capture of La Caroline, and
the sanguinary deed by which the Spanish chief, through a gloomy
fanaticism, stained foully the honorable fame which his skill and
courage in arms might have ensured to his memory. All resistance

having ceased on the part of the Huguenots of La Caroline,
the standard of Castile was unrolled from its battlements, instead
of the white folds and the smiling lilies of France. The name of
the fortress was solemnly changed to San Matheo, the day on
which they found themselves in its possession being that which
was dedicated to the honor of that saint. The arms of France
and of Coligny, which surmounted the gateways of the place, were
erased and those of Spain were graven there instead, and the keeping
of the fortress was assigned to a garrison of three hundred
men, under the command of Gonzalo de Villaroël. These duties
occupied but little time, and did not interfere with other performances
of the Adelantado, which he thought not the less conspicuous
among the duties required at his hands. His prisoners
were brought before him. These were, perhaps, not so numerous,
though forming a fair proportion of the number left by Ribault in
the garrison. It is perhaps fortunate that no greater number had
been left, since, in all probability, the same want of watch and
caution by which the fortress had been lost, would have equally
been shown, with any numbers, under such an easy commandant
as Laudonniere, and in the particular circumstances which had
taken place. Of these prisoners many were women and children.
We have seen that Laudonniere succeeded in rescuing some
twenty persons. Several had fled to the forests and taken shelter
with the tribes of neighboring Indians. In some few instances,
the red-men protected them with fidelity. But in the greater
number of cases, terrified by the sudden appearance and the
strength of the Spaniards, they had yielded up the fugitives at the
fierce demand of the Adelantado. Others of the miserable Huguenots,
warned by the Indians that they could no longer harbor,
were shot down by the pursuing Spaniards, as they fled in terror
through the forests. Twenty perished in this manner, offering no
resistance, and long after the struggle in La Caroline had
ended.

The surviving prisoners were then brought before the conqueror.
They were manacled, and presented a spectacle which must
have moved the sympathies of any ordinary nature. But Pedro
de Melendez was not of an ordinary nature. The natural sympathies
had given way to a morbid passion amounting to insanity,
by which his judgment was confounded. The sight of weeping,
and trembling women and children; of captives naked, worn, exhausted,
enfeebled by years, by disease, by cruel wounds—all
pleading for his mercy—only seemed to strengthem him in the
most cruel resolution. “The groans of the heretic, are music
in the ears of heaven!” Upon this maxim he designed an appropriate
commentary.

“Separate these women from the other prisoners.”

It was done.

“Now detach from these last, all children under fifteen
years.”

His command was obeyed. The women and children thus set
apart were consigned to slavery. Of their farther fate the historian
knows nothing. The young and tender were probably persuaded
to the Roman Catholic altars, and thus finally achieved
their deliverance. The more stubborn, we may reasonably assume,
perished in their bonds, passing from one condition of
degradation to another. Of the rest the history is terribly definite.
Fixing his cold, dark eye upon the male captives upon
whose fate he had yet said nothing, he demanded—

“Is there among ye any who profess the faith of the Holy
Catholic Church?”

Two of the prisoners answered in the affirmative.

“Take these Christians away, and let their bonds be removed.
The Holy Father, Salvandi, will examine them in the faith of
Mother Church. For the rest, are there any among ye, who,
seeing the error of your ways, will renounce the heresy of
Luther, and seek once more communion with the only true
church?”

A drear silence followed. The captives looked mournfully at
each other, and at the Adelantado; but in his face there was no
encouragement, and nothing but despair was expressed in the
aspects of their fellows.

“Be warned!” continued the Adelantado. “To those who
seek the blessings of the true church, she generously openeth her
arms. To those who turn away, indifferently or in scorn, she decrees
death temporal and death eternal. Hear ye!—and now
say.”

The silence was unbroken.

“Are ye obdurate? or do ye not comprehend that your
lives rest upon your speech? Either ye embrace the safety which
the church offers, by an instant renunciation of that of the foul
heretic Luther, or ye die by the halter!”

One sturdy soldier advanced from the group—a bold, high-souled
fellow—his brows lifted proudly with the conscious impulse
which worked within his soul.

“Pedro de Melendez, we are in your power. You are master
of our mortal bodies, but with the death before us that you
threaten, know that we are members of the reformed Church of
Christ, which ye name to be of Luther—that,holding it good to

live in this faith, we deem it one in which it will not be amiss to
die!”

And the speaker looked round him, into the faces of his fellows,
and they lightened up with a glow of cheerfulness and pride,
though no word was spoken.

“Speaks this man for the rest of ye?” demanded Melendez.

For a moment there was silence. At length a matelit advanced—a
common sailor—a man before the mast.

“Ay! ay! captain! what he says we say! and there's no use
for more palaver. Let there be an end of it. We are of the
church of Messer Luther, and no other; if death's the word,
we're ready. We're not the men, at the end of the reckoning, to
belie the whole voyage!”

“Be it it even as ye say!” answered Melendez coldly, but
sternly, and without change of accent or show of passion: “Take
them forth, and let them be hung to yonder tree!”

Then rose the shrieks of women and the cries of children;
women seeking to embrace their husbands and children clinging
to the knees of their doomed sires. But these produced no relentings.
The parties were separated by the strong hand, and the
unhappy men were hurried to the fatal tree. The priest stood
ready to receive their recantations. His exhortations were not
spared; but soldier and sailor had equally spoken for the resolute
martyrdom of the whole. The reverend father preached to them,
and promised them in vain. Amidst cries and curses, the victims
were run up to the wide-spreading branches of a mighty oak, dishonored
in its employment for such a purpose, and perished in
their fidelity to the faith which they professed. Their bodies
were left hanging in the sun and wind, destined equally as trophies
of the victor, and warnings to the heretic. A monument was instantly

raised beneath the tree, upon which was printed in large
characters—