At length, they entered the Gulf of Mexico, that forbidden sea, whence by a Spanish decree, dating from the reign of Philip II., all foreigners were excluded on pain of extermination. [Footnote: Letter of Don Luis de Onis to the Secretary of State, American State Papers, xii. 27, 31.] Not a man on board knew the secrets of its perilous navigation. Cautiously feeling their way, they held a northerly course, till, on the twenty-eighth of December, a sailor at the mast-head of the "Aimable" saw land. La Salle and all the pilots had been led to form an exaggerated idea of the force of the easterly currents; and they therefore supposed themselves near the Bay of Appalache, when, in fact, they were much farther westward. At their right lay a low and sandy shore, washed by breakers, which made the landing dangerous. La Salle had taken the latitude of the mouth of the Mississippi, but could not determine the longitude. On the sixth of January, the "Aimable" seems to have been very near it; but his attempts to reconnoitre the shore were frustrated by the objections of the pilot of the vessel, to which, with a fatal facility, very unusual with him, he suffered himself to yield. [Footnote: Joutel, 45. He places the date on the tenth, but elsewhere corrects himself. La Salle himself says, "La hauteur nous a fait remarquer… que ce que nous avons vue, le sixième janvier, estoit en effet la principale entrée de la rivière que nous cherchions."—Lettre de la Salle au Ministre, 4 Mars, 1685.] Still convinced that the Mississippi was to the westward, he coasted the shores of Texas. As Joutel, with a boat's crew, was vainly trying to land, a party of Indians swam out through the surf, and were taken on board; but La Salle could learn nothing from them, as their language was wholly unknown to him. The coast began to trend southward. They saw that they had gone too far. Joutel again tried to land, but the surf that lashed the sand-bars deterred him. He approached as near as he dared, and, beyond the intervening breakers, saw vast plains and a dim expanse of forests; the shaggy buffalo running with their heavy gallop along the shore, and troops of deer grazing on the marshy meadows.
A few days after, he succeeded in reaching the shore at a point not far south of Matagorda Bay. The aspect of the country was not cheering; sandy plains and shallow ponds of salt water, full of wild ducks and other fowl. The sand was thickly marked with, the hoof-prints of deer and buffalo; and they saw them in the distance, but could kill none. They had been for many days separated from the "Joly," when at length, to La Salle's great relief, she hove in sight; but his joy was of short duration. Beaujeu sent D'Aire, his lieutenant, on board the "Aimable," to charge La Salle with having deserted him. The desertion in fact was his own; for he had stood out to sea, instead of coasting the shore, according to the plan agreed on. Now ensued a discussion as to their position. Had they in fact passed the mouth of the Mississippi; and, granting that they had, how far had they left it behind? La Salle was confident that they had passed it on the sixth of January, and he urged Beaujeu to turn back with him in quest of it. Beaujeu replied that he had not provisions enough, and must return to France without delay, unless La Salle would supply him from his own stores. La Salle offered him provisions for fifteen days, which was more than enough for the additional time required; but Beaujeu remained perverse and impracticable, and would neither consent nor refuse. La Salle's men beguiled the time with hunting on shore; and he had the courtesy, very creditable under the circumstances, to send a share of the game to his colleague.
Time wore on. La Salle grew impatient, and landed a party of men, under his nephew Moranget and his townsman Joutel, to explore the adjacent shores. They made their way on foot northward and eastward for several days, till they were stopped by a river too wide and deep to cross. They encamped, and were making a canoe, when, to their great joy, for they were famishing, they descried the ships, which had followed them along the coast. La Salle landed, and became convinced—his wish, no doubt, fathering the thought—that the river was no other than the stream now called Bayou Lafourche, which forms a western mouth of the Mississippi. [Footnote: La Salle dates his letter to Seignelay, of the fourth of March: "A l'embouchure occidentals dufleuve Colbert" (Mississippi). He says, "La saison étant très-avancée, et voyant qu'il me restoit fort peu de temps pour achever l'entreprise don't j'estois charge, je resolus de remonter ce canal du fleuve Colbert, plus tost que de retourner au plus considérable, éloigné de 25 à 30 lieues d'icy vers le nord-est, que nous avions remarqué dès le sixième janvier, mais que nous n'avions pu reconnoistre, croyant sur le rapport des pilotes du vaisseau de sa Majesté et des nostres, n'avoir pas encore passé la baye du Saint-Esprit" (Mobile Bay). He adds that the difficulty of returning to the principal mouth of the Mississippi had caused him "prendre le party de remonter le fleuve par icy." This fully explains the reason of La Salle's landing on the coast of Texas, which would otherwise have been a postponement, not to say an abandonment, of the main object of the enterprise. He believed himself at the western mouth of the Mississippi; and lie meant to ascend it, instead of going by sea to the principal mouth. About half the length of Bayou Lafourche is laid down on Franquelin's map of 1684; and this, together with La Salle's letter and the statements of Joutel, plainly shows the nature of his error.] He thought it easier to ascend by this passage than to retrace his course along the coast, against the winds, the currents, and the obstinacy of Beaujeu. Eager, moreover, to be rid of that refractory commander, he resolved to disembark his followers, and. despatch the "Joly" back to France.
The Bay of St. Louis, now Matagorda Bay, [Footnote: The St. Bernard's Bay of old maps. La Salle, in his letter to Seignelay of 4 March, says, that it is in latitude twenty-eight degrees and eighteen or twenty minutes. This answers to the entrance of Matagorda Bay.
In the Archives de la Marine is preserved a map made by an engineer of the expedition, inscribed Minuty del, and entitled Entrée du lac où on a laissé le Sieur de la Salle. It represents the entrance of Matagorda Bay, the camp of La Salle on the left, the Indian camps on the borders of the bay, the "Belle" lying safely at anchor within, the "Aimable" stranded near the island at the entrance, and the "Joly" anchored in the open sea.
At Versailles, Salle des Marines, there is a good modern picture of the landing of La Salle in Texas.] forms a broad and sheltered harbor, accessible from the sea by a narrow passage, obstructed by sand-bars, and by the small island now called Pelican Island. La Salle prepared to disembark on the western shore, near the place which now bears his name; and, to this end, the "Aimable" and the "Belle" must be brought over the bar. Boats were sent to sound and buoy out the channel, and this was successfully accomplished on the sixteenth of February. The "Aimable" was ordered to enter; and, on the twentieth, she weighed anchor. La Salle was on shore watching her. A party of men, at a little distance, were cutting down a tree to make a canoe. Suddenly, some of them ran towards him with terrified faces, crying out that they had been set upon by a troop of Indians, who had seized their companions and carried them off. La Salle ordered those about him to take their arms, and at once set out in pursuit. He overtook the Indians, and opened a parley with them; but when he wished to reclaim his men, he discovered that they had been led away during the conference to the Indian camp, a league and a half distant. Among them was one of his lieutenants, the young Marquis de la Sablonnière. He was deeply vexed, for the moment was critical; but the men must be recovered, and he led his followers in haste towards the camp. Yet he could not refrain from turning a moment to watch the "Aimable," as she neared the shoals; and he remarked with deep anxiety to Joutel, who was with him, that if she held that course she would soon be aground.
They hurried on till they saw the Indian huts. About fifty of them, oven- shaped, and covered with mats and hides, were clustered on a rising ground, with their inmates gathered among and around them. As the French entered the camp, there was the report of a cannon from the seaward. The startled savages dropped flat with terror. A different fear seized La Salle, for he knew that the shot was a signal of disaster. Looking back, he saw the "Aimable" furling her sails, and his heart sank with the conviction that she had struck upon the reef. Smothering his distress,— she was laden with all the stores of the colony,—he pressed forward among the filthy wigwams, whose astonished inmates swarmed about the band of armed strangers, staring between curiosity and fear. La Salle knew those with whom he was dealing, and, without ceremony, entered the chief's lodge with his followers. The crowd closed around them, naked men and half-naked women, described by Joutel as of a singular ugliness. They gave buffalo- meat and dried porpoise to the unexpected guests; but La Salle, racked with anxiety, hastened to close the interview; and, having without difficulty recovered the kidnapped men, he returned to the beach, leaving with the Indians, as usual, an impression of good-will and respect.
When he reached the shore, he saw his worst fears realized. The "Aimable" lay careened over on the reef, hopelessly aground. Little remained but to endure the calamity with firmness, and to save, as far as might be, the vessel's cargo. This was no easy task. The boat which hung at her stern had been stove in,—it is said, by design. Beaujeu sent a boat from the "Joly," and one or more Indian pirogues were procured. La Salle urged on his men with stern and patient energy; a quantity of gunpowder and flour was safely landed; but now the wind blew fresh from the sea, the waves began to rise, a storm came on, the vessel, rocking to and fro on the sand-bar, opened along her side, the ravenous waves were strewn with her treasures; and, when the confusion was at its height, a troop of Indians came down to the shore, greedy for plunder. The drum was beat; the men were called to arms; La Salle set his trustiest followers to guard the gunpowder, in fear, not of the Indians alone, but of his own countrymen. On that lamentable night, the sentinels walked their rounds through the dreary bivouac among the casks, bales, and boxes which the sea had yielded up; and here, too, their fate-hunted chief held his drearier vigil, encompassed with treachery, darkness, and the storm.
Those who have recorded the disaster of the "Aimable" affirm that she was wilfully wrecked, [Footnote: This is said by Joutel and Le Clercq, and by La Salle himself, in his letter to Seignelay, 4 March, 1685, as well as in the account of the wreck drawn up officially.—Procès verbal du Sieur de la Salle sur le naufraqe de la flûte l'Aimable à l'embouchure du Fleuve Colbert, MS. He charges it, as do also the others, upon Aigron, the pilot of the vessel, the same who had prevented him from exploring the mouth of the Mississippi on the sixth of January. The charges are supported by explicit statements, which render them probable. The loss was very great, including nearly all the beef and other provisions, 60 barrels of wine, 4 pieces of cannon, 1,620 balls, 400 grenades, 4,000 pounds of iron, 5,000 pounds of lead, most of the blacksmith's and carpenter's tools, a forge, a mill, cordage, boxes of arms, nearly all the medicines, most of the baggage of the soldiers and colonists, and a variety of miscellaneous goods.] an atrocious act of revenge against a man whose many talents often bore for him no other fruit than the deadly one of jealousy and hate.
The neighboring Bracamos Indians still hovered about them, with very doubtful friendship: and, a few days after the wreck, the prairie was seen on fire. As the smoke and name rolled towards them before the wind, La Salle caused all the grass about the camp to be cut and carried away, and especially around the spot where the powder was placed. The danger was averted; but it soon became known that the Indians had stolen a number of blankets and other articles, and carried them to their wigwams. Unwilling to leave his camp, La Salle sent his nephew Moranget and several other volunteers, with a party of men, to reclaim them. They went up the bay in a boat, landed at the Indian camp, and, with more mettle than discretion, marched into it, sword in hand. The Indians ran off, and the rash adventurers seized upon several canoes as an equivalent for the stolen goods. Not knowing how to manage them, they made slow progress on their way back, and were overtaken by night before reaching the French camp. They landed, made a fire, placed a sentinel, and lay down on the dry grass to sleep. The sentinel followed their example; when suddenly they were awakened by the war-whoop and a shower of arrows. Two volunteers, Oris and Desloges, were killed on the spot; a third, named Gayen, was severely wounded; and young Moranget received an arrow through the arm. He leaped up and fired his gun at the vociferous but invisible foe. Others of the party did the same, and the Indians fled.