“My eyes are reasonably good, monsieur,” said he most sharply and coldly, looking up at me like a game-cock for some moments. “Nor have I a custom of any incertitude of mind. But Saprelotte!—I am of two dispositions about you!”
He leaned forward scowling and I was much disconcerted. “You have placed all my plans in jeopardy and I know not whether ’twere best to hang you to the main yard or to blow you to perdition with a powder charge. But”—his rigidness fell away from him and he broke into a merry laugh—“you could not wait? Eh, my beef-eater? Par la Pâque-Dieu. I blame you not—I blame you for nothing! Not if you had disobeyed the orders of the Admiral himself.”
He took me by the arm and led me into the cabin, where Mademoiselle, tired but content, was smiling at us.
“The lady pleads your cause well, monsieur,” said De Gourgues. “She has my service. This time I forgive you. But remember,” he laughed, “if it happens that you disobey her”—and he paused—“if you disobey her, there will be no spar upon the Vengeance high enough to bear your bones!”
By midnight the sound of the mad revelry upon the shore had ceased, and in the silence of a night which held a deeper content for me than I had ever known, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The following day was consumed in the final preparations for the attack and in the drinking of the “black-drink” by the Indians. It is a custom with them before they go into battle or danger of any kind to drink as much of this concoction, which is the brew of a kind of leaf, as they can hold. They believe that it purifies them from all sin, leaves them in a state of perfect innocence, and inspires them with an invincible prowess in war. De Gourgues, in order to show how strong were his prowess and sympathies, pretended to swallow the stuff; but he afterward told me that when he found the opportunity he had poured a quantity of it out upon the ground. It was evening before the Indians gathered their weapons and filed off into the forest, it being agreed that the French should go by water and meet them before the attack. De Gourgues had no further need to encourage his men. The excitement was at fever heat; and aroused to the very bursting point of enthusiasm, they tumbled down into the boats with ready weapons and purpose that could know no turning. François Bourdelais, with twenty sailors, was left upon the ships. In the event of failure he was to wait as long as might be for the men to return and then set sail for France. Mademoiselle was safe at any rate. I was glad that she did not appear upon the deck. It would have savored too much of that day when I had left her upon the bastion at Fort Caroline. But among the excited Frenchmen there were many embracings and many messages to wives and mistresses. After that, they went blithely enough. For it was a wonderful venture on which we were going. We were about to attack four hundred hardy, well-trained men, in a stone fort where with reasonable skill they might hold their own against an army.
We were well under way before the darkness swallowed up the dim shadows of the ships. Hour after hour of that calm, half-tropic night we pulled at our oars, gliding softly along by the sombre shores, sliding now and then over a pebbly bar, but moving ever slowly on to the southward, with the soothing murmur of the surf in our ears, and the balsam of the land breeze in our nostrils. In the gray of the dawn we came to another river and a breeze sprang up from the sea, which, by sunrise, blew with violence from the north-east. Here we found our Indians waiting upon the bank. For a while the gale delayed us, but our Frenchmen would not wait long, rowing at last boldly across. Had it not been for the morions with which they were forced to bale incessantly, they must surely have sunk. As it was, the boat in which I was conveyed with De Gourgues was half full of water when we arrived upon the beach.
When we had landed and put ourselves to rights, led by the Avenger, we pushed forward on foot through the forest. By the side of the Captain marched Olotoraca armed with bow and arrows and a French pike to which he had taken a great liking. Looks of friendliness passed between us. I doubted if they had been so friendly,—at least upon his part,—had he known. The arquebusiers followed, while De Brésac and I with our armed seamen brought up the rear. All of that day until five of the afternoon, pausing only to eat and drink, we hewed our way through the swamps and thickets toward our destination. Then almost spent by hunger and fatigue we came to another river, or inlet of the sea which Dariol—interpreting for Olotoraca—said was not far from the nearest of the Spanish forts at the mouth of the river.
Job Goddard, footsore and weary, brightened at the gleam of the water.
“’Odds ’ounds! Master Sydney, ’tis a mighty sweet sight. Do we take to the boats again now, sir? For my legs have little energy enough. Unless I may sit down to my work, ’tis a bad fight I’ll make this day for poor Salvation Smith, sir.”