In Search of Mademoiselle

by George Gibbs

When he had finished, Laudonnière answered, favoring the plan of remaining at Fort Caroline to fortify it against attack. La Grange and Sainte Marie got upon their feet and spoke briefly to the same effect. They all said that having lived in these parts for nearly two years, they were better qualified to speak of these things; they thought it dangerous to venture upon that coast in the month of September or October, for the storms came with terrible swiftness and devastation.

Ribault reproved them for their timidity, asking whether they were valiant sailor-men of France or dogs of Spaniards? Then he read a letter from Admiral Coligny which he took to be an order to attack this same Admiral Pedro Menendez if he ventured within the dominions of New France. By sea, the distance was short and the route explored. It was the proper strategy. With a sudden blow we would capture or destroy the Spanish ships, and master the troops on shore before their companions upon the sea could arrive.

Laudonnière, having been superseded in his command, had no actual control in the matter, and though the Admiral spoke kindly to him and to the other officers, the orders were at once issued for the expedition. In order that there might be no possibility of miscarriage, the most of the available men of the Fort as well as of the ships were to be taken. Not only were all the officers and soldiers of the new expedition to go but also La Caille, Laudonnière’s sergeant-major, his Ensign—Arlac, De Brésac a friend of La Caille, Ottigny, La Grange and the very pick of his men.

This was little to my liking. With these men gone and Laudonnière ill, the Fort lay practically at the mercy of the enemy, were they Spaniards or Indians. The Sieur de la Notte would come upon the Trinity in spite of all that I could urge, for though not born to the command of men, he had a love for play with the steel and went where he felt his duty strongest.

I could not conceal my fears, even from the Vicomte de la Notte. All that was for me in this world would be left behind in a crumbling fort with no one to defend. Of those to remain, but seventeen men of Laudonnière and nine or ten of Ribault were in condition to bear arms, and some of these were servants, one of them being the Admiral’s cook and two others his dog-boys. There was an old carpenter of threescore named Challeux, two shoemakers, an old cross-bow maker, a player upon the spinet and four valets—a beggarly array of fighting men surely to defend the one hundred and fifty women, children and camp-followers the Admiral would leave behind! I went to him, but he would not listen to me. His mind was made to carry out all these plans, he said; and so I left him. La Grange and Ottigny went to him again; but we saw that it was useless. I then sought Madame and Mademoiselle in their chamber in the living quarters.

We had only a short time, but Mademoiselle and I went out upon the bastion and stood by the breeching of one of the cannon, looking out to sea. The air was close and sultry and not a breath stirred the trees to the back of us or rippled the surface of the river that flowed, deep and sluggish, below. The leaves, half turned in color and wet by a rain-storm during the night, hung sere and motionless. The standard above our heads hung closely about the staff, drooped and faded. The ships in the river were shaking out their sails, which fell heavily and hung from their yards in straight and listless folds to the deck. The men moved down from the Fort to the boats as though they had no joy in the undertaking. There was no gleam upon their breastpieces, for the sun did not shine that morning, and never the rollicking song that means so much to the man-at-arms. I was in no cheerful disposition, and there was a reflection of my mood in the manner of Mademoiselle.

“There is no great danger,” I began, “and we will return within the week. I have asked your father to stay, as he can be of no great service in a culverin fight, or a fight of ships. But he will go.”

“If there is a battle,” she smiled, “it were difficult to keep him where the women and children are. He hath ever given a good account of himself.”

“Yes, Mademoiselle, but he should not go.”

I said it in a tone so convincing that she looked at me to get my meaning. I had not meant to betray my uneasiness to her, but with her woman’s wit she guessed my thought.