This Country of Ours Part 7

At length when he thought that Satouriona was completely frightened, Laudonniere spoke.

"Where are your prisoners?" he said. "I command them to be brought before me." Thereupon the chief, "angry at the heart and astonied wonderfully," stood a long time without making any answer. But when at last he spoke it was boldly and without fear.

"I cannot give you my prisoners," he said. "For seeing you coming in such warlike guise they were afraid and fled to the woods. And not knowing what way they went we could not by any means find them again."

Laudonniere, however, pretended that he did not understand what the chief said, and again he asked for the prisoners.

The chief then commanded his son to go in search of them, and in about an hour he returned bringing them with him. As soon as they were brought before Laudonniere the prisoners greeted him humbly.

They lifted up their hands to heaven, and then threw themselves at his feet. But Laudonniere raised them at once, and led them away to the fort, leaving Satouriona very angry.

Laudonniere now sent the prisoners back to the Thimagoes' chief, who was greatly delighted at the return of his braves. He was still more delighted when the Frenchmen marched with him against another tribe who were his enemies, and defeated them.

But while Laudonniere was thus making both friends and enemies among the Indians all was not peace in the colony itself. Many of the adventurers had grown tired of the loneliness and sameness of the life. The food was bad, the work was hard, and there seemed little hope that things would ever be better. And for all their hards.h.i.+ps it seemed to them the Governor was to blame. So they began to murmur and be discontented, gathering together in groups, whispering that it would be a good deed to put an end to Laudonniere and choose another captain.

And now when the discontent was at its height Laudonniere fell ill. Then one of the ringleaders of the discontent urged the doctor to put poison in his medicine. But the doctor refused. Next they formed a plot to hide a barrel of gunpowder under his bed and blow him up. But Laudonniere discovered that plot, and the ringleader fled to the forest.

About this time a s.h.i.+p arrived from France bringing food for the colony, so that for a time things went a little better. And when the s.h.i.+p sailed again for home Laudonniere sent the worst of the mutineers back in it. In their place the captain left behind some of his sailors. But this proved a bad exchange. For these sailors were little better than pirates, and very soon they became the ringleaders in revolt. They persuaded some of the older colonists to join them. And one day they stole a little s.h.i.+p belonging to the colony, and set off on a plundering expedition to the West Indies.

On the seas they led a wild and lawless life, taking and plundering Spanish s.h.i.+ps. But after a time they ran short of food, and found themselves forced to put into a Spanish port. Here in order to make peace with the Spaniards they told all they knew about the French colony.

Thus it was that for the first time the Spaniards learned that the heretic Frenchmen had settled in their land, and speedily the news was sent home to Spain.

Meanwhile Laudonniere was greatly grieved for the loss of his s.h.i.+p. And as days pa.s.sed, and there was no sign of the mutineers'

return, he set his men to work to build two new s.h.i.+ps.

For a time the work went well. But soon many of the men grew tired of it and they began to grumble. Why should men of n.o.ble birth, they asked, slave like carpenters? And day by day the discontent increased.

At last one Sunday morning the men sent a message to Laudonniere asking him to come out to the parade ground to meet them. Laudonniere went, and he found all the colony waiting for him with gloomy faces. At once one of them stepped forward, and asked leave to read a paper in the name of all the others. Laudonniere gave permission.

The paper was read. It was full of complaints about the hard work, the want of food, and other grievances. It ended with a request that the men should be allowed to take the two s.h.i.+ps which were being built and sail to Spanish possessions in search of food. In fact they wanted to become pirates like those mutineers who had already sailed away.

Laudonniere refused to listen to this request. But he promised that as soon as the two s.h.i.+ps were finished they should be allowed to set out in search of gold mines.

The mutineers separated with gloomy faces; they were by no means satisfied with Laudonniere's answer, and the discontent was as deep as ever. Laudonniere now again became very ill and the malcontents had it all their own way. Soon nearly every one in the fort was on their side, and they resolved to put an end to Laudonniere's tyranny.

Late one night about twenty men all armed to the teeth gathered together and marched to Laudonniere's hut. Arrived there they beat loudly on the door demanding entrance. But Laudonniere and his few remaining friends knew well what this loud summons meant, and they refused to open the door. The mutineers, however, were not to be easily held back; they forced open the door, wounding one man who tried to hinder them, and in a few minutes with drawn swords in hand, and angry scowls on their faces, they crowded round the sick man's bed. Then holding a gun at his throat they commanded him to give them leave to set forth for Spanish waters. But the stern old Huguenot knew no fear. Even with the muzzle of the gun against his throat he refused to listen to the demands of the lawless crew.

His calmness drove them to fury. With terrible threats, and more terrible oaths, they dragged him from his bed. Loading him with fetters they carried him out of the fort, threw him into a boat and rowed him out to the s.h.i.+p which lay anch.o.r.ed in the river. All the loyal colonists had by this time been disarmed, and the fort was completely in the hands of the mutineers. Their leader then drew up a paper giving them leave to set forth to Spanish possessions.

And this he commanded Laudonniere to sign.

Laudonniere was completely in the power of the mutineers. He was a prisoner and ill, but his spirit was unbroken, and he refused to sign. Then the mutineers sent him a message saying that if he did not sign they would come on board the s.h.i.+p and cut his throat. So, seeing no help for it, Laudonniere signed.

The mutineers were now greatly delighted at the success of their schemes. They made haste to finish the two little s.h.i.+ps which they had been building, and on the 8th of December they set sail. As they went they flung taunts at those who stayed behind, calling them fools and dolts and other scornful names, and threatening them with all manner of punishments should they refuse them free entrance to the fort on their return.

As soon as the mutineers were gone Laudonniere's friends rowed out to him, set him free from his fetters, and brought him back to the colony.

They were now but a very small company, but they were at peace with each other, and there was plenty to do. So the weeks went quickly by. They finished the fort, and began to build two new s.h.i.+ps to take the place of those which the mutineers had stolen. But they never thought of tilling the ground and sowing seed to provide bread for the future. Thus more than three months pa.s.sed. Then one day an Indian brought the news that a strange s.h.i.+p was in sight.

Laudonniere at once sent some men to find out what s.h.i.+p this might be, and whether it was friend or foe.

It proved to be a Spanish vessel which the mutineers had captured and which was now manned by them. But the mutineers who had sailed away full of pride and insolence now returned in very humble mood.

Their buccaneering had not succeeded as they had hoped. They were starving, and instead of boldly demanding entrance, and putting in force their haughty threats, they were eager to make terms. But Laudonniere was not sure whether they really came in peace or not.

So he sent out a little boat to the mutineers' s.h.i.+p. On the deck of it there was an officer with one or two men only. But below, thirty men, all armed to the teeth, were hidden. Seeing only these one or two men in the boat the mutineers let her come alongside.

But what was their astonishment when armed men suddenly sprang from the bottom of the boat and swarmed over the sides of their vessel.

Many of the mutineers were stupid with drink, all of them were weak with hunger, and before they could seize their arms, or make any resistance, they were overpowered and carried ash.o.r.e.

There a court-martial was held, and four of the ringleaders were condemned to death. But these bold bad men were loath to die.

"Comrades," said one, turning to the loyal soldiers near, "will you stand by and see us die thus shamefully?"

"These," replied Laudonniere, sharply, "are no comrades of mutineers and rebels."

All appeals for mercy were in vain. So the men were shot and their bodies hanged on gibbets near the mouth of the river as a lesson to rebels.

After this there was peace for a time in Fort Caroline. But it soon became peace with misery, for the colony began to starve. The long-expected s.h.i.+p from France did not come. Rich and fertile land spread all round them, but the colonists had neither ploughed nor sown it. They trusted to France for all their food. Now for months no s.h.i.+ps had come, and their supplies were utterly at an end.

So in ever increasing misery the days pa.s.sed. Some crawled about the meadows and forest, digging for roots and gathering herbs. Others haunted the river bed in search of sh.e.l.l-fish. One man even gathered up all the fish bones he could find and ground them to powder to make bread. But all that they sc.r.a.ped together with so much pain and care was hardly enough to keep body and soul together. They grew so thin that their bones started through the skin. Gaunt, hollow-eyed spectres they lay about the fort sunk in misery, or dragged themselves a little way into the forest in search of food.

Unless help came from France they knew that they must all soon die a miserable death. And amid all their misery they clung to that last hope, that help would come from France. So, however feeble they were, however faint with hunger, they would crawl in turns to the top of the hill above the fort straining their dimming eyes seaward.

But no sail appeared.

At length they gave up all hope, and determined to leave the hated spot. They had the Spanish s.h.i.+p which the mutineers had captured, and another little vessel besides which they had built. But these were not enough to carry them all to France, so gathering all their last energy they began to build another boat. The hope of getting back to France seemed for a time to put a little strength into their famine stricken bodies. And while they worked Laudonniere sailed up the river in search of food. But he returned empty-handed.

Famis.h.i.+ng men cannot work, and soon the colonists began to weary of their labours.

The neighbouring Indians, too, who might have given them food, were now their enemies. They indeed now and again brought scant supplies of fish to the starving men. But they demanded so much for it that soon the colonists were bare of everything they had possessed. They bartered the very s.h.i.+rts from their backs for food. And if they complained of the heavy price the Indians laughed at them.

"If thou makest so great account of thy merchandise," they jeered, "eat it and we will eat our fish."

But summer pa.s.sed. The grain began to ripen, and although the Indians sold it grudgingly the colony was relieved from utter misery for the time being.

But now fresh troubles arose, for the Frenchmen quarreled with the chief of the Thimagoes for whose sake they had already made enemies of Satouriona and his Indians.

Thinking themselves treated in an unfriendly manner by the Thimagoes the Frenchmen seized their chief, and kept him prisoner until the Indians promised to pay a ransom of large quant.i.ties of grain.

The Indians agreed only because they saw no other means of freeing their chief. They were furiously angry with the Frenchmen and, seething with indignation against them, they refused to pay an ounce of grain until their chief had been set free: and even then they would not bring it to Fort Caroline, but forced the Frenchmen to come for it. The Frenchmen went, but they very quickly saw that they were in great danger. For the village swarmed with armed warriors who greeted the colonists with scowls of deepest hatred.

After a few days, therefore, although only a small portion of the ransom had been paid, the Frenchmen decided to make for home as fast as possible.

It was a hot July morning on which they set off. Each man besides his gun carried a sack of grain, so the progress was slow. They had not gone far beyond the village when a wild war whoop was heard.

It was immediately followed by a shower of arrows. The Frenchmen replied with a hot fire of bullets. Several of the Indians fell dead, and the rest fled howling into the forest.

Then the Frenchmen marched on again. But they had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile when another war whoop was heard in front.

It was answered from behind, and the Frenchmen knew themselves surrounded. But they stood their ground bravely. Dropping their bags of corn they seized their guns. A sharp encounter followed, and soon the Indians fled again into the forest. But again and again they returned to the attack, and the Frenchmen had to fight every yard of the way. At nine o'clock the fight began, and the sun was setting when at length the Indians gave up the pursuit. When the Frenchmen reached their boats they counted their losses. Two had been killed, and twenty-two injured, some of them so badly that they had to be carried on board the boats. Of all the bags of grain with which they had started out only two remained. It was a miserable ending to the expedition.

The plight of the colony was now worse than ever. The two sacks of grain were soon consumed; the feeble efforts at building a s.h.i.+p had come to nothing. But rather than stay longer the colonists resolved to crowd into the two small vessels they had, and sail homeward if only they could gather food enough for the voyage. But where to get that food none knew.

One day full of troubled, anxious thoughts Laudonniere climbed the hill and looked seaward. Suddenly he saw something which made his heart beat fast, and brought the colour to his wasted cheeks.

A great s.h.i.+p, its sails gleaming white in the sunlight was making for the mouth of the river. As he gazed another and still another s.h.i.+p hove in sight. Thrilling with excitement Laudonniere sent a messenger down to the fort with all speed to tell the news, and when they heard it the men who had seemed scarce able to crawl arose and danced for joy. They laughed, and wept, and cried aloud, till it seemed as if joy had bereft them of their wits.

But soon fear mingled with their joy. There was something not altogether familiar about the cut and rig of the s.h.i.+ps. Were they really the long-looked-for s.h.i.+ps from France, or did they belong to their deadly and hated enemies, the Spaniards? They were neither one nor the other. That little fleet was English, under command of the famous admiral, John Hawkins, in search of fresh water of which they stood much in need. The English Admiral at once showed himself friendly. To prove that he came with no evil intent he landed with many of his officers gaily clad, and wearing no arms.

The famine-stricken colonists hailed him with delight, for it seemed to them that he came as a deliverer.

Gravely and kindly Hawkins listened to the tale of misery, yet he was glad enough when he heard that the Frenchmen had decided to leave Florida, for he wanted to claim it for Queen Elizabeth and England. When, however, he saw the s.h.i.+ps in which they meant to sail homewards he shook his head. "It was not possible," he said, "for so many souls to cross the broad Atlantic in those tiny barques." So he offered to give all the Frenchmen a free pa.s.sage to France in his own s.h.i.+ps. This Laudonniere refused. Then Hawkins offered to lend him, or sell him, one of his s.h.i.+ps. Even this kindness Laudonniere hesitated to accept.