In Search of Mademoiselle

by George Gibbs

The Spaniards had just finished their morning meal and came rushing up, fastening on their steel-pieces. The gunner who had given the alarm, hastily aiming his cannon at us, fired wildly and the ball went crashing into the thicket. He had time even to load and fire again before Olotoraca, who had outstripped the others, ran up the glacis, leaped the unfinished ditch and drove his pike through the Spaniard from breast to back, pinning him to the gun-carriage. Some of the Frenchmen were by his side in a moment, and jumping down into the fort they cut their way into the thick of the superior numbers, who fell back before the fierce onslaught.

“After me,” shouted Cazenove from the gate. “They fly by this way. At their throats, mes garçons, cut them down!” De Gourgues turned the rest of his men in that direction. The Spaniards were caught between two fires and all of those who had escaped from the Fort were imprisoned between our party and that of Cazenove. The Indians too came thrusting upon their flanks. Many of them fought desperately, but their efforts were futile against the whirlwind of passion of the Frenchmen who beat them to the earth like chaff. All except a few were killed upon the spot. Those who were spared were saved by the Avenger for a more inglorious end.

During all this time we had been aware that the Spaniards in the fort upon the other shore had taken alarm and were firing upon us without ceasing. But when the first victory had been won De Gourgues turned four of the captured cannon against them; and to such good purpose that one of the Spanish guns ceased firing at once, the men running below in dismay. Then one of the boats, a very large barge which by this time had arrived along-shore, was brought to the landing-place and eighty of us were crowded into it. The river here is about a quarter of a league in width, but the Indians rushed into the water after us and holding their bows and arrows above their heads, swam across straight as water-rats. Their dark faces, fierce and scarlet-streaked, seemed to darken the whole surface of the water and inspired a great fear in the Spanish garrison. Whichever way the Spanish looked, there was certitude of a horrible death before them, and so, seized by a sudden panic, they fled terrified to the woods. But by this time we had landed below them and blocked their path with the arquebusiers, sending charge after charge into their ranks and cutting them down without mercy. They recoiled again in dismay, but the Indians had crawled dripping upon the beach and were upon them with savage shouts, beating them down before we could come within sword-thrust. It was with difficulty that De Gourgues could save the lives of a few; and indeed he had no notion of sparing them altogether. He only saved them—as he had saved the others—for another death.

I did not know De Gourgues in the character of blood-letter. He had lost that cheeriness and buoyancy that had drawn me so closely to him. Upon his face he wore a look of satisfaction that was a horror to see. For, vengeance done, a man with any shred of compassion in him must now and then give vent to some expression to show that his devil craves a compromise with his God. But not so, De Gourgues. He looked at the blood about him without pity or compunction, and cast upon those who had been taken so sour a look that some of them drew shuddering to the length of their bonds away from him. Even I, accustomed as I had become to the horrors of carnage, turned away in disgust, for the sights I saw among the Indians were too savage for description, and the French were little better. Job Goddard was everywhere in the thickest of the fighting. And though he had little pity for the Spaniards, he, like myself, shrank from cutting down disarmed men. Once I saw a fellow whom he had spared rise upon an elbow and with his last remnant of strength send his poniard flying at my Englishman. It hit Job fairly in the upper arm and stuck there quivering. Goddard nonchalantly plucked it out and put it in his belt saying,

“A good line shot, me friend, but most indifferent elevation. When ye wish to strike home, aim high me garlic eater, aim high! An’ ’tis no cursed bad advice for a man about stepping across the threshold of eternity!”

As for me, all this slaughter turned my stomach and I sat apart, for I had come out for no such business as this; I wanted the butchery speedily over, and the attack on San Mateo made immediately. Should we be successful there, I knew that other such scenes would be witnessed, for De Gourgues had vowed there should be no shadow of difference between the massacres of Fort Caroline and Fort San Mateo. But in spite of repugnance at what would follow I hoped and prayed that we might be victorious. For I felt again the same old passion to be at the throat of De Baçan. I made my vow that he should die only through a fair test of skill or strength with me. How I might save him from those red hell-hounds, our allies, I did not know, but if I could compass it, I intended to meet him upon even terms. My practise in Pompée’s salle d’armes should have made my sword-play good enough to cross blades with him. I scarce know why this haunting desire to fight De Baçan should have filled me so relentlessly through all these months; and now since Mademoiselle had not fallen into his hands, I—not he—had won the game, and the ancient grudge was fitter upon his side of the balance than upon mine.

But De Gourgues had deferred the attack upon San Mateo until his preparations could be carefully finished. All the next day we spent in making ladders to scale the walls; sending orders through Satouriona and Olotoraca to the Indians, giving them their stations in the forest and arranging that no movement should be made until a signal was given. So closely had Satouriona and Tacatacourou watched the Fort, that, though making no attack and keeping well in the shadows of the forest, they had succeeded in confining all the Spaniards within their own lines. Those gentry heard the savage cries resounding through the woods until their echoes faded away in the distance. There was desperate work before them and they knew that the sounds of the war-cries and the barking of the French arquebuses down the river meant a harder fight than they had ever had before. They judged from the sound of the shots that the French numbered several thousand. All of this we learned from a Spanish soldier who ventured out, feathered and painted like an Indian. He came within the lines of our outposts, but the lynx-eyed Olotoraca, walking with De Gourgues, spied through his disguise and the man was seized before he could get away. From him the Avenger learned that in Fort San Mateo were two hundred and sixty Spaniards under Don Diego de Baçan. This confirmed the report we had heard. De Baçan was still there. I feared at this last moment of my quest that some unhappy accident might have sent him on an errand to San Augustin.

On the evening of the second day after the first assault, De Gourgues, well pleased and confident that his plans were carefully laid, gave orders that the Indians should close in upon the fort with all possible secrecy and lie in wait under the shadows of the trees and bushes of the hills and river bank. Before the day had broken we were in marching order and after a hearty meal went up the stream in glittering ranks, joyful but steady and assured of victory. De Gourgues made no concealment of our movements, and when we came in view of the Fort we saw the battlements shining with men in armor and knew that De Baçan was prepared to receive us. Presently, when within range of their ordnance they opened fire with their culverins from a projecting bastion. De Gourgues broke our column and scattered us through the woods, where their fire had little effect; for here the forest was very thick and overgrown and afforded a most excellent cover. We marched to the left, passing through our Indian allies, who lay like snakes among the undergrowth. We came at last to the top of a small hill, from which we had a good view of the whole extent of the defenses of Fort San Mateo. It was plain to be seen that these had been greatly improved since its capture from Laudonnière.

De Baçan apparently had by this time lost all trace of our whereabouts. Thinking we had defiled by the river bank, in a moment he sent a strong party of Spaniards to reconnoitre. They came from their works, crossing the ditch and, all unconscious, made straight for the clump of woods in which we lay ensconced. De Gourgues, noting the advantage of his position, quickly detached Cazenove with a party to station himself at a point well hidden by trees where he could soon take them in the flank. The Spaniards, unaware that they were exposing themselves to this enfilading fire, with a strange insistence which seemed not unlike infatuation, continued sturdily to advance.

Now it was that the discipline of the arquebusiers of De Gourgues showed to greatest advantage. He had cautioned them under pain of dire punishment not to fire before the word of command. In their ardor they strained forward eagerly, leaning upon their rests, their eyes glancing down their weapons, their fingers toying lovingly with their match cords. But not until the Spaniards had come so near that we could plainly make out their features did the Avenger give the order to fire.