University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

Having thus rendered himself master of La Caroline, effectually
displacing the Huguenots from the region which they had
acquired, and maintained so long through so many vicissitudes,
Melendez prepared to hurry back to his camp on the banks of the
Selooe. He but lingered to review the force of the garrison, and
with his own hands, fresh reeking with the blood of his slaughtered
victims, to lay the foundations of a church dedicated to the
God of Mercy, when he set forth with the small body of troops,
which he reserved to himself from the number that accompanied
his expedition, scarcely a hundred men, impatient for return, lest
Ribault, escaping from the storm, should visit upon his settlement
at St. Augustine the same wrath which had lighted upon La
Caroline. The heavy torrents from which he had already suffered
so much continued to descend as before, and the whole face of the
country was inundated; his people suffered inconceivably upon the
march, but the Adelantado was superior to the sense of suffering.
He felt himself too much the especial favorite of God, to suffer

himself to doubt that the toils and inconveniences of such a progress
as that before him, were anything but tests of his fidelity,
and the means by which the Deity designed to prepare him properly
for the holy service which was expected at his hands. He
reached his camp in safety. His arrival was the source of a great
triumph and an unexpected joy. Here he had been reported as
having perished, with all his army, at the hands of the French.
The deserters, who had abandoned him on the route, in certain
anticipation of this fate, had not scrupled to spread this report by
way of excusing their own inconstancy and fears. His people
accordingly passed instantly from the extremity of terror to that
of joy and triumph. They marched out, en masse, at his approach,
to welcome him as the vanquisher of the heretics; the priests at
their head, bearing the cross of Christ, the conqueror, and chanting
Te Deum, in exultation at the twofold conquest which he had won,
at the expense equally of their own, and the enemies of the church.

His triumphs were not without some serious qualifications. In
the midst of their joy, an incendiary, as he supposed, had reduced
to ashes the remaining vessels in the harbor. A portion of his
garrison, a little after, showed themselves in mutiny against their
officers, this spirit having been manifested before his departure
for La Caroline. He was apprised also of a mishap to one of his
greater ships, the San Pelayo, which had been sent to Hispaniola,
filled with captive Frenchmen taken at different periods, and who
were destined to suffer the question as heretics in the Inquisition of
the mother country. These had risen upon the crew, overpowered
them, captured the vessel, and carried her safely into Denmark.

While meditating, and seeking to repair some of these mishaps,
Melendez received intelligence of Ribault and his fleet, which
caused him some inquietude. His own shipping being destroyed,

his future safety depended wholly upon the condition of Ribault's
armament, since, with their small vessels, his harborage might be
entered at any moment, and his sole means of defence lay with his
troops upon the land, where his entrenchments were not yet sufficiently
advanced to offer much, if any obstacle, to a vigorous
assailant. But farther advices, brought him by the savages,
relieved him measurably from any apprehensions from the shipping
of his enemy. In this respect the condition of the French
was no better than his own. The unfortunate Ribault, driven
before the hurricane, had been wrecked with all his squadron,
upon the bleak and unfriendly shores of Cape Cannaverel; his
troops were saved, with the exception of the crew and armament
of one vessel, containing a detachment under the Sieur de la
Grange, all of whom perished but the captain. Dividing his
troops into two or more bodies, Ribault advanced along the shore,
proceeding northerly, in the direction of La Caroline, and one of
his detachments had reached the inlet of Matanzas, when Melendez
was first advised of their approach. He was told by the
Indians that about four leagues distant, a large body of white men
were embarrassed in their progress by a bay, over which they had
no means to pass. Upon this intelligence, the Adelantado, taking
with him forty picked soldiers, proceeded with all despatch to the
designated place. His proceedings were marked by subtlety and
caution. With such a force, he could hope to do nothing in open
warfare against the numbers of Ribault, which, after all casualties,
were probably six or seven hundred men. But nobody knew
better than Melendez how to supply the deficiencies of the lion
with the arts of the fox. He concealed his troop in the woods
that bordered the inlet, and from the top of a tree surveyed the
scattered groups of Frenchmen on the opposite shore. They
were two hundred in number, and some of them had been engaged
in the construction of a raft with which to effect their passage.
But the roughness of the waters, and the strength of the current
forbade their reliance upon so frail a conveyance, and while they
were bewildered with doubt and difficulties, Melendez showed himself
alone upon the banks of the river. When he was seen from
the opposite shore, a bold Gascon of Saint Jean de Luz plunged
fearlessly into the stream, and succeeded in making the passage.

“Who are these people?” demanded Melendez.

“We are Frenchmen, all, who have suffered shipwreck.”

“What Frenchmen?”

“The people of M. Ribault, Captain-General of Florida,
under commission of the king of France.”

“I know no right to Florida, on the part of France or Frenchmen.
I am here, the true master of the country, on behalf of
my sovereign, the Catholic king, Philip the Second. I am Pedro
Melendez, adelantado of all this Florida, and of the isles thereof.
Go back to your general with my answer, and say to him, that I
am here, followed by my army, as I had intelligence that he too
was here, invading the country in my charge.”

The Gascon returned with the speech, and soon after was persuaded
again to swim the stream, with a request for a safe conduct
from the Spanish general, on behalf of four gentlemen of the
French, who desired to treat with him. It was requested that a
batteau which Melendez had brought along shore with his provisions,
and which was now safely moored beside the eastern banks,
might be sent to bring them over. To all this Melendez readily
consented. The arrangement suited him exactly. His troop was
still in reserve, covered rather than concealed within the forest,
and so disposed as to seem at a distance to consist of overwhelming

numbers. But six men were suffered to accompany the
Spanish commander. These, well armed, were quite equal to the
four to whom he accorded the interview. These soon made their
appearance. Their leader told the story of their melancholy
shipwreck, the privations they had borne, the wants under which
they suffered, and implored his assistance to regain a fortress
called La Caroline, which the king, his master, held at a distance
of some twenty leagues.

Melendez replied—

“Señor, I have made myself the master of your fort. I have
laid strong hands upon the garrison. I have slain them all, sparing
none but the women, and such children as were under fifteen years.”

The Frenchmen looked incredulous.

“If you doubt,” he continued, “I can soon convince you. I
have brought hither with me the only two soldiers whom I have
admitted to mercy. I spared them, because they claimed to be
of the Catholic faith. You shall see them, and hear the truth
from their own lips. In all probability you know them, and will
recognise their persons. Rest you here, while I send you something
to eat. You shall see your compatriots, with some of the
spoils taken at La Caroline. These shall prove to you the truth
of what I say.”

With these words he disappeared. Soon after, refreshments
were brought to our Frenchmen, and when they had eaten, the
two captives at La Caroline, who had been spared on account of
their faith, were allowed to commune with them, and to repeat all
the facts in the cruel history of La Caroline. Nothing of that
terrible tragedy was concealed. Melendez had a policy too refined
for concealment, when the revelation of his atrocities was to
be the means for their renewal. To strike the hearts of the

Frenchmen with such terror, as to have them at his mercy, was a
profound secret of success in dealing with the wretched, suffering,
and already desponding outcasts in his presence.

After an hour's absence he returned.

“Are you satisfied,” he asked? “of the truth of the things
which I have told you.”

“We can doubt no longer;” was the reply; “but this does not
lessen our claim upon your humanity as men, and your consideration
as Frenchmen. Our people are at peace, there is amity and
alliance between our sovereigns. You cannot deny us assistance,
and the vessels necessary for our return to France.”

“Surely not, if you are Catholics, and if I had the means of
helping you to ships. But you are not Catholics. The alliance
between our kings is an alliance of members of the true Church,
both sworn against heretics.”

“We are members of the Reformed Church,” was the reply of
the officers; “but we are men; human; made equally in the
image of the Deity, and serve the same God, if not at the same
altars. Suffer us, at least, to remain with you for a season, till
we can find the means for returning to our own country.”

“Señor, it cannot be. As for sheltering heretics, that is impossible.
I have sworn on the holy sacrament, to root out and to
extripate heresy, wherever I encounter it—by sea or land—to
wage against the damnable heresy which you profess a war to the
utterance, as vindictive as possible, to the death and to the torture;
and in this resolution I conceive myself to be serving
equally the king of France as the king, my sovereign. I am
here in Florida for the express purpose of establishing the Holy
Roman Catholic Faith! I will assist no heretic to remain in the
country.”

“Assist us to leave it, señor: that is in truth what we demand.”

“Demand nothing of me. Yield yourselves to my mercy—at
discretion—deliver up your arms and ensigns, and I will do with
you as God shall inspire me. Consent to this—these are my only
terms—or do what pleases you. But you must hope nothing at
my hands—neither truce nor friendship.”

With this cruel ultimatum, he quitted them, giving them opportunity
to return and report to their comrades. In two hours they
reappeared, and made him an offer from the two hundred men
gathered on the opposite banks, of twenty thousand ducats, only
to be assured of their lives. The answer was as prompt as it was
characteristic.

“Though but a poor soldier, señor, I am not capable of governing
myself, in the performance of my duties, by any regard to
selfish interests. If I am moved to do an act of grace, it will be
done from pure generosity. But do not let these words deceive
you. I tell you as a gentleman, and an officer holding a high commission
from the king of Spain, that, though the heavens and the
earth may mingle before my eyes, the resolution which I once
make, I never change!”

It will scarcely be thought possible that any body of men,
having arms in their hands, and still in possession of physical
powers sufficient for their use, would, under such circumstances,
listen to such a demand. But the forces of Ribault had been
terribly demoralized by disaster and disappointment. Privation
had humbled their souls, and the utter exhaustion of their spirits
made them give credence to vain hopes of mercy at the hands of
their enemy, which at another period they could never have entertained.
The report of their envoy found them ready to make

any concessions. It required but half an hour to determine their
submission. The returning batteau brought over with four officers
all their ensigns, sixty-six arquebuses, twenty pistols, a large
number of swords and bucklers, casques and cuirasses, their whole
complement of munitions, and a surrender of the entire body at
discretion. Melendez gladly seized upon these spoils. He embarked
twenty of his soldiers in his batteau, with orders to bring
over the Frenchmen, in small divisions, and to offer them no insult;
but, as they severally arrived on the eastern side of the bay, they
were conducted out of sight, and under the guns of his arquebusiers.
They were then given to eat, and when the repast was
ended, they were asked if any among them were Catholics. There
were but eight of the whole number who replied in the affirmative.
These were set apart, to be conducted to St. Augustine. The rest
frankly avowed themselves to be good Christians of the Reformed
Church. These were immediately seized, their arms tied
behind their backs, and in little squads of six, were conducted to
a spot in the background, where Melendez had traced, with his
cane, a line upon the sand. Here they were butchered to a man,
each succeeding body sharing the same fate, without knowing, till
too late, that of their comrades. There was no pause, no mercy,
no relentings in behalf of any. All perished, to the number of
two hundred; and Pedro Melendez returned to his camp at St.
Augustine, again to be welcomed with Te Deum, and the acclamation
for good Christian service, from a Christian people.