The Flamingo Feather by Kirk Munroe

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In a moment, however, this despair was changed into the wildest joy,
for from the mainmast-head of the foremost ship there flew out upon the
freshening breeze, not the cruel yellow banner of Spain, but the brave
blood-red ensign of England.

Shouts of welcome burst from the throats of Laudonniere and his men.
They danced about the deck as though crazed by the thoughts of their
great deliverance, and most speedily they ran to their own mast-head
the lily banner of France. Its appearance was the signal for a roar of
kindly greeting from the cannon of the leading English ship, which was
soon afterwards hove-to at a distance of less than half a mile from
them.

The English fleet proved to be that of the brave Sir John Hawkins, the
bluff old sea-king whose very name was a terror to all Spaniards. He
was on his way back to his own country from one of the famous cruises
to the Spanish Main and the West Indies that were even then making him
world-renowned. He had captured many Spanish ships laden with treasure
in gold and silver from the mines of Mexico and Peru, and when he
learned of the sad plight of the Chevalier Laudonniere and his people,
he promptly offered to give them a ship in which they might safely
undertake a voyage to their own country. Moreover, when he was told
how slender was their store of provisions, he furnished the ship which
he was about to give them with a supply of food that would last them
for several months.

In the name of King Charles IX of France, Laudonniere, who had again
assumed command of his little company unquestioned by the mutineers,
thanked the brave Englishman for his great kindness to them, and
accepted his generous gifts. Then the English fleet, with a parting
salute from its loud-mouthed cannon, bore away and resumed its homeward
voyage. At the same time the Frenchmen started back for the River of
May, where, under shelter of the land, they proposed making the
transfer of their property from their own crazy craft to the stout ship
which they had received from the English admiral. Thus it happened
that the sunset of that eventful day found them in the very same place
from which they had so willingly departed that morning, and had never
expected to see again.

At this time Laudonniere made another earnest effort to induce his men
to return to Fort Caroline, and there await patiently the arrival of
Jean Ribault, now that they had a supply of provisions and a good ship,
but to no avail.

Simon, the armorer, expressing the sentiments of all the rest, save
only Le Moyne and Rene de Veaux, said,

"What with fightings and fevers, we are in no condition to drive out
the savages who have doubtless ere this entered into full possession of
Fort Caroline. If we did regain the fort, what could we do save remain
there until this heaven-sent store of provisions should be exhausted?
and then would we not be in as sad a plight as before? No, your
Excellency, let us return to our own land while we may, and not linger
here longer in the hope of succor which seems likely never to be sent."

So Laudonniere, having numbers against him, was forced to accept the
situation as he had done before, and the work of transfer from one
vessel to the other proceeded rapidly.

When it was accomplished, and they were ready to start on their second
venture, the elements were again against them, and for a week they were
confronted by an impassable wall of foam-crested billows, breaking and
roaring upon the bar in the most tumultuous confusion.

Late one afternoon, when their patience had become well-nigh exhausted
by this tedious delay, all hearts were thrilled by the report of a
fleet of ships seen far out at sea, but approaching the land. An
anxious night followed, for again were the members of the little band
torn with conflicting fears and hopes. Were the ships French, English,
or Spanish? Daylight only could bring an answer to the question.

At length it came, and as the sun rose, its earliest beams fell upon
seven tall ships riding easily at anchor outside the bar. From each
was displayed in the golden light the fair lily banner of France.

At this glorious sight there was indeed joy on board the ship of
Laudonniere. At last the long-looked-for reinforcements had come.
There was no more talk of mutiny, nor of abandoning the country. Now
the cry was, "Ho for Fort Caroline, and destruction to the savages!"

Crowding all sail upon their newly acquired ship, and with its guns
firing salutes of welcome, and banners flung to the breeze from every
point, they sailed out over the still tumultuous bar to greet the
new-comers from their own land. It was indeed Admiral Jean Ribault and
his fleet of succor for the little colony. On board his flag-ship
_Trinity_, a joyful meeting took place between him and his trusted
lieutenant, the brave Laudonniere, who, supported by Rene de Veaux and
Le Moyne, found strength to carry himself thither.

The admiral was highly indignant when he heard of the mutiny, and would
have punished the mutineers severely had not Laudonniere pleaded for
them, giving their sufferings and their despair of the arrival of
reinforcements as their excuse.

The closest attention was paid to the tale of the brave deeds of Rene
de Veaux. At its conclusion the admiral sent for him, and caused him
to blush as ruddily as his sun-tanned cheeks would permit, by highly
commending the courage and wisdom he had displayed on his journey to
the land of the Alachuas. In conclusion the admiral said, "Did thy
years warrant it, thou shouldst receive thy knighthood, for never did
squire more worthily earn it. For the future thy welfare and speedy
promotion shall be the especial charge of Jean Ribault."

For such words as these from such a man, Rene felt that he would gladly
face, single-handed, the whole Seminole band; and for the rest of that
day he conceived himself to be the happiest boy in the world.

Only one of Admiral Ribault's ships was of such light draught as
enabled her to cross the bar, and so this one, with that of
Laudonniere, was obliged to transfer all the newly arrived colonists
and supplies to Fort Caroline. This labor occupied many days, for the
three hundred new colonists had brought with them a vast amount of
provisions, munitions of war, tools, and articles of every description
necessary for the building and equipping of other forts in the New
World, and all this had to be brought in over the bar and carried up
the river.

When the new-comers first caught sight of the fort they were grievously
disappointed to see it dismantled and deserted. As they approached it
more closely they obtained a glimpse of a few savages who were still
searching for plunder within its walls, and from these they gained
their first impressions of the inhabitants of the New World.

Rene was made very happy by the return to the fort, for he said to
himself, "It will soon be time for Micco's people to come again to
their own hunting-grounds. Then I shall again see Has-se, and mayhap I
shall be able to persuade him to go with me some day to France."

His thoughts were soon to be of other things, for even at this time a
terrible storm which had long been gathering was about to burst upon
this little band of Huguenots. Even as they busied themselves so
happily in restoring their fort and planning a settlement that should
flourish forever as a refuge for the persecuted of their religion, a
powerful enemy, and one who was even more cruel than powerful, was on
the way to destroy it and them. Don Pedro Menendez, with a fleet of
thirty-four ships and three thousand troops, had been sent out to the
New World by the King of Spain. He was ordered to take and hold
possession of all the country then known as Florida, which extended as
far north as the English settlement in Virginia, and had no western
limit. He was to build a fort and found a city; but first of all he
was to discover and destroy the colony of heretics who were reported to
have established themselves within this territory.

Soon after Ribault's coming the Spanish fleet arrived on the coast, and
sailing northward they discovered the French ships, late one afternoon,
lying at anchor off the mouth of the River of May. At midnight they
too came to anchor within hailing distance of the French fleet, and a
trumpet was sounded from the deck of the _San Palayo_, the Spanish
flag-ship. It was immediately answered from the _Trinity_, and from
the deck of his own ship Menendez inquired, with great courtesy,

"Gentlemen, whence comes this fleet?"

"From France," was the reply.

"What is its object here?"

"To bring men and supplies to a fort that the King of France has caused
to be built in this country, and to establish many more in his name."

"Be ye Catholics or heretics?"

"We be Huguenots, and who be ye who askest these many questions?"

Then came the bitter answer, "I am Don Pedro Menendez, admiral of this
fleet. It belongs to the King of Spain, his Majesty Don Philip II, and
I am come to this country to destroy all heretics found within its
limits, whether upon sea or land. I may not spare one alive, and at
break of day it is my purpose to capture your ships and kill all
heretics they may contain."

Upon this Ribault and his men interrupted the proud Spaniard with
taunts and jeers, begging him not to wait until morning before putting
his threat into execution, but to come at once and kill them.

So greatly did this provoke the Spanish admiral that he ordered his
captains to cut the cables of their ships, and make an instant attack
upon the French fleet, though the night was intensely dark. He was so
enraged that he rushed about the deck of his own ship like a madman,
and assisted with his own hands in forwarding the preparations for
battle. In a few minutes the entire Spanish fleet bore down upon the
six French ships; but the crews of these had not been idle, and before
their enemies could reach them they too had cut their cables, hoisted
sail, and stood out to sea. For the rest of the night the Spaniards
chased them, but Ribault's superior seamanship soon placed him at a
safe distance from the pursuers, who at daylight gave over the chase
and turned back towards the River of May, intending to make an attack
upon Fort Caroline.

In the meantime word had been sent to the fort by Admiral Ribault of
the coming of the Spanish fleet, when it was first sighted, and
Laudonniere had collected his entire force at the mouth of the river,
and planted there a number of heavy guns. Here he proposed to dispute
the landing of the enemy, and if possible to prevent his crossing the
bar, just inside of which he had anchored his two small vessels, so
that their guns commanded the narrow channel.

When Menendez returned from his unsuccessful pursuit of Ribault's
ships, and saw these warlike preparations, he felt that it would be
unwise to attempt to land his troops through the surf, or to force the
passage of the bar, and so he ordered his captains to proceed southward
to the River of Dolphins. When it was reached, the smaller vessels
crossed the bar at its mouth, and came to anchor opposite the Indian
village of Seloy, where Rene de Veaux had first set foot upon the soil
of the New World, and where he had received the name of Ta-lah-lo-ko.

Here Menendez determined to build his fort, and found a city which he
hoped to make the capital of a great and glorious kingdom, and from
which he proposed to conduct operations against the Huguenots of Fort
Caroline. On the day after his arrival he landed with the greatest
pomp and ceremony, and claimed possession of the country in the name of
the King of Spain. As he did so all the cannon of the ships lying in
the river were discharged at once with a mighty roar, which was
answered by a distant booming from those anchored far out at sea. At
the same time all the trumpets were sounded, and the air was filled
with the exulting shouts of the soldiers, and with hymns of praise
chanted by a great company of priests. At the same moment the great
stag that stood in front of the council-house of the Indians was torn
down from the tall pole on which it was uplifted, and the cross was
raised in its place.

So terrified were the simple-minded Indian inhabitants of the village
by this sacrilege, and the great noise of the rejoicings, that they
knew not which way to turn or flee, until they were seized by the
brutal soldiers, and either killed or set to work with the negro slaves
brought from the West Indies in throwing up fortifications. After thus
taking possession of the country, Menendez proclaimed that the new
city, founded upon the smoking blood-stained ruins of the pleasant
little Indian village of Seloy should be called "San Augustin," which
name it bears to this day, and that the River of Dolphins should be
thereafter known as the "San Augustin River."

When the bewildered chief of the Seloy Indians found that these strange
white men were about to destroy his village, he made a bitter protest
against their cruelties; but he was no more regarded than if he had
been a barking dog. They would have killed him, but he gathered
together a few of his chosen warriors, and with them fled for
protection to his white friend Laudonniere, at Fort Caroline, which
place he reached the next day.

He had some difficulty in gaining admittance to the fort, for since its
attack by the Seminoles its garrison were suspicious of all Indians,
and had it not been for Rene de Veaux he would have been driven away.
Rene happened to be near the gate when the sentinel challenged the
newcomers, and recognizing the good old chief who had been so kind to
him, and whom he knew to be a friend of his uncle, ordered the sentry
to admit these Indians, at the same time pledging his own word for
their good faith.

When Rene learned the importance of the tidings brought by these
fugitives, he at once conducted the chief to Laudonniere, on whom the
fever still retained such a hold as to confine him to his room.

The poor old chief told his pitiful tale to Laudonniere, and begged his
powerful aid in driving away these wicked white men, who had treated
him so differently from all others who had landed at his village.
Promising to do what he could, Laudonniere at once despatched a
messenger down the river to Admiral Ribault, who had returned with his
ships and again lay at anchor beyond the bar.

In answer came an order for all the fighting men of Fort Caroline to
join the fleet immediately, as the admiral proposed to sail southward
and attack these impudent Spaniards ere they had time to erect
fortifications, or so strengthen their position that to attack it would
be useless.

Then came a time of tremendous bustle and excitement within the fort.
There were men hurrying hither and thither gathering their weapons,
women and children screaming and crying--for many of these had been
brought out with the new colonists--and dogs barking.

Rene de Veaux begged his uncle to permit him to accompany the fighting
men, but Laudonniere said "No," that the order did not include boys,
and he could be of greatest service by remaining within the fort.

So the fighting men marched away to join the fleet, leaving Fort
Caroline to be defended only by the old, the sick, the women, and the
children. Besides the commandant and Rene de Veaux, among those who
remained behind were Le Moyne, the artist, and old Simon, the armorer,
to whom was given the command of the guard.

CHAPTER XIV

A NIGHT OF TERROR

Immediately after landing Menendez and his soldiers, with their
supplies, at San Augustin, the ships of the fleet, which on account of
their size had been unable to enter the river, sailed away for Spain,
leaving only a few small vessels at anchor inside the bar. Thus
apparently all was favorable to the bold enterprise of Admiral Ribault,
who, with his six ships, and all the troops from Fort Caroline, had
determined to attack, and if possible to destroy, the newly founded
city before it could be fortified.

When he arrived off the mouth of the river the tide was so low on the
bar that his ships could not pass it. So they stood off and on,
waiting for it to rise, and the Spaniards on shore, seeing them, were
filled with great consternation. Of a sudden, almost without warning,
there came a terrible blast of wind out of the north-east. It was
followed by another and another, until such a gale was raging as had
never been seen by white men on that coast. In vain did the French
ships struggle against it, and against the huge billows that towered as
high as their tallest masts. They could do nothing against its fury,
and soon the Spaniards were filled with joy at seeing them drift
helplessly down the coast towards certain wreck and destruction.

Then Menendez made up his mind, in spite of the terrible gale, to march
overland to the attack of Fort Caroline, thus deprived of its
defenders. Followed by five hundred picked men, he set forth, and for
three days, beaten and drenched by the pitiless storm, he wandered
through over-flowed swamps and tangled forests. He had compelled
several of the Seloy Indians to go with him and act as guides; but
finally, believing that they were purposely leading him astray, he put
them to death with great cruelty, and trusted to his own knowledge to
lead him to the great river. At length he reached it, and following
its course, came during the night to a high bluff, from which he looked
down upon the few twinkling lights of Fort Caroline beneath him.

Meantime the raging of the elements had caused the greatest anxiety to
those who remained within the fort, for they were fearful of its effect
upon the ships of Admiral Ribault; and though they of course knew
nothing of their fate, they were already beginning to regard them as
lost.

Under Simon, the armorer, as captain of the guard, Rene de Veaux had
done duty with the few old men and invalids who were pressed into
service as sentinels, and he had manfully shouldered his cross-bow, and
paced the walls through many long hours of storm, rain, and darkness.
Although, in his pride at thus performing the duties of a real soldier,
the boy allowed no word of complaint to escape him, he felt what the
others expressed openly--that this guard duty, now that the Spaniards
and savages had departed, and in the midst of a storm so terrible that
it did not seem possible for mortals to face it, was an unnecessary
hardship. So when, towards morning of the fourth night, after two
hours of wearily pacing the walls in the cold, drenching rain, he was
relieved, and flung himself, all wet as he was, upon a couch in his own
quarters, he determined to remonstrate with Simon upon the subject.

In spite of his feelings, Rene had been absolutely faithful to his
duty, which, alas! the soldier who relieved him was not. After a few
turns upon the parapet, during which he neither saw nor heard anything
to disquiet him, this sentinel sought shelter from the beatings of the
storm in an angle of the walls, where he soon fell into a doze.

Even then the Spaniards were at the gates, awaiting the signal to make
an attack. It was given, and Rene had hardly dropped into a troubled
sleep when he was rudely awakened by a crash, a rending of wood, the
wild scream of agony with which the unfaithful sentinel yielded up his
life, and the triumphant yells of the enemy, who had forced an entrance
through the little unguarded postern-gate.

Rene sprang to the door, and for an instant stood motionless, petrified
by terror at the awful sights that greeted his gaze. Already flames
were bursting from many of the tents and barracks, and by the light
thus given he saw men, women, and children, almost naked as they had
sprung from their beds, flying in every direction before the pitiless
Spaniards. Wherever they turned the fugitives were met by long pikes,
gleaming swords, and keen daggers, and above the howlings of the storm
rose their shrill screams of terror and quickly stifled cries of mortal
agony.

For an instant only did Rene gaze upon these awful scenes, and then,
remembering his uncle, he rushed to the commandant's dwelling which the
Spaniards had not yet reached. He found, Laudonniere, pale and
trembling, but as calm and collected as becomes the brave soldier even
in the presence of death, standing beside his bed, while the faithful
Le Moyne endeavored to assist him into his armor.

Breathlessly Rene explained that there was no time to lose, and no hope
of saving the fort. "All is lost!" he cried, "and if ye would save
your own lives, follow me without an instant's delay. I, and I alone,
know of a way of escape."

It was only then that Rene had bethought himself of the underground
passage of which Has-se had taught him the secret.

Reassured by his confident words, the two men followed him out of the
house, and to their great surprise were led beneath it among the stone
piers of its foundations. They were not a moment too soon, for as they
disappeared, some Spanish soldiers, who had learned that this was the
dwelling of the commandant, burst into it with savage cries, and
proceeded to search its every corner in the hope of capturing the
greatest prize of all in the person of the Huguenot leader.

Their hour of triumph was imbittered by not finding him, for even as
they searched his chamber he, preceded by Rene de Veaux and followed by
Le Moyne, the artist, was making his way through the narrow tunnel
beneath them towards the river-bank beyond the walls of the fort.

So surprised was Laudonniere at this underground passage leading into
the very heart of his fort, of the existence of which he had never
until that moment even dreamed, that when they emerged on the
river-bank he forgot all else in his curiosity concerning it.

"Whence comes this passage that has proved of such wonderful service to
us, and how came thou by a knowledge of it?" he asked of his nephew.

Even then Rene would not betray the solemn promise of secrecy given to
Has-se, but answered,

"Let us not now stop to talk of these matters, I pray thee, oh mine
uncle. Thy precious life is still in great danger. Let us first
perfect thy escape, and another time I will answer thee concerning this
secret passage. For the present I beg of thee to make thy way,
accompanied by the good Master Le Moyne, as speedily and secretly as
may be, down the river to its mouth, where do still lie the two small
ships left behind by Admiral Ribault. Let me, who am young, strong,
and active, tarry here for a short time, that perchance I may aid
others of our people to effect an escape by means of this same tunnel.
I will delay but shortly, and will overtake and rejoin thee long ere
thy feebleness shall have permitted thee to reach the river's mouth."

Although Laudonniere was most reluctant to part with his nephew at such
a time, he deemed that it would be an exhibition of selfishness on his
part to compel his attendance upon himself when it was possible that by
remaining he might save the lives of some of the unfortunates within
the fort. Therefore he reluctantly gave his consent that Rene should
remain behind for a short time, but charged him not to unnecessarily
expose himself to danger. Then both men embraced the lad fervently,
gave him their blessing, and departed, full of the hope of speedily
meeting with him again--a hope that was destined to be sadly deferred.

After their departure Rene again entered the tunnel and made his way
back to its inner terminus. There he cautiously drew himself up from
its mouth, crept to the edge of the building beneath which it lay, and
watched and listened for what he might discover.

He had not been there a minute when he was startled by hearing a
smothered groan close at hand. Listening attentively, he heard it
again; and feeling confident that he who uttered it must be one of his
own countrymen, he began to creep carefully, and without betraying his
presence by the slightest sound, in the direction from which it
proceeded. At length he heard a third groan, so close to him that he
instinctively drew back for fear of coming into contact with the person
who uttered it. Then, in the lightest of whispers, he inquired,

"Who is there? I am Rene de Veaux."

For answer came the whisper, "Heaven help thee, Master Rene, if thou
art in like plight with myself! I am thy old friend Simon, sorely
wounded, and with no hope save that of falling into the hands of these
fiends of Spaniards when daylight shall enable them to make a thorough
search of the premises."

"Cheer up, good Simon, and speak not thus dolefully," whispered Rene.
"If thou canst walk, or even crawl, I can save thee. Where lies thy
wound?"

"Not so that it interferes with my crawling or even walking; for though
it seems to lie in several portions of my body at once, it affects not
my legs. If thou hast knowledge of a chance of escape, however
slender, lead on, and I will gladly follow thee, for hopes I have none
in remaining here."

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