“No,” he said shortly, “we are already too small a number. Were you to go I should be sending—not three, but six, men—and that were already four too many.”
With great anxiety he watched Dariol and De Brésac drop down into the boat. They had no weapons and had removed their doublets to row the better. Dariol had put in the bow a number of small trinkets, such as mirrors, knives and strings of beads, with which he hoped to show the signs of friendliness. The morions of our arquebusiers lined the bulwarks, for the company thought these two men were going most surely to their death. No word was spoken and the sound of the oars plashing in the quiet water of the harbor came down clearly upon the breeze from the land as the little craft drew nearer the shore. When half the distance had been traversed we saw Dariol lay down his oars and stand up in the bow shouting, “Antipola! Antipola!” waving a string of beads in his hand. This brought forth a chorus of cries from the beach, and the savages came down to the water’s edge shouting and waving their bows. But De Brésac, at the oars, not even turned his head at the outcry. He bent steadily to his work like a London waterman, sending the boat at each stroke nearer and nearer the moving crowd.
The excitement upon the ship was intense, for in a moment the craft would be grounded upon the beach in the very midst of the enemy.
“Most gallantly done,” said De Gourgues, beside me, below his breath.
Dariol began shouting again, asking for Satouriona, but in the commotion we could not hear what further was said. Then something happened; for we saw a tall figure come out to his waist in the water, holding up his hands before him. In a moment the boat disappeared in the human wave that engulfed it as the Indians surrounded it upon every side, seizing the gunwales and running it up on the beach. It was a most confused mass and we could make out little of what was going on. A fellow up forward shouted, “They have killed them! They have killed them!” and a great cry arose on the Vengeance which drowned the yelling of the savages upon the shore. Some of the Indians were jumping into the air and throwing their bows aloft; and Bourdelais, who was looking through the glass, said haltingly,
“I see them—there is the shirt of De Brésac. Three of them are holding him—no—they are,”—and then excitedly, “upon my faith—they are clasping him by the hand—they are touching Dariol upon the shoulders. It is friendship—seigneur—friendship!”
De Gourgues snatched the glass from Bourdelais’ hand and fixed it quickly to his eye.
“You are right, Bourdelais. They walk up the beach, my comrade! They converse together. Ah! it is well.”
It was now patent to all on board the Vengeance that no harm had befallen our comrades, and there was great rejoicing. For there in plain sight walked Dariol and De Brésac talking with the Indian who had walked into the water, who, by his stature, wide shoulders and dignified bearing, I made out to be none other than Satouriona himself.
After awhile we saw the boat push off from the shore and make for the ship. Dariol and De Brésac rowed; in the stern we marked the figures of Satouriona and several dusky savages. At this De Gourgues ordered the company to be drawn up upon the deck, and prepared to welcome his strange visitors over the side with all the state and formality he would have shown a King of France. It was a course which diplomacy suggested.