“I do not know, my friend,” he replied, “and I care not.”
Then I discovered there was a cut upon the back of his head, which was bleeding freely, dyeing his linen and doublet a sombre hue and marking in greater contrast the pallor of his face.
“Be of good cheer,” I said as cheerfully as I might, “we will be ashore in a moment, sir.” By the tackle about me, we were presently hauled through the surf and reached the shallows, where a dozen arms plucked us from our hazardous hold and landed us high upon the beach.
The perils of the last two days, ending in the position into which we were thrown, had taken my thoughts from the desperate fear at my heart. Until then—until we were surely wrecked and saw all destroyed before our eyes, we had hoped at least to get back to Fort Caroline before the Spaniards could attack. I made no doubt they would do that at the earliest moment if indeed they had not done so already.
My God! For the first time the horrible chances came upon and overwhelmed me. Wrecked and ruined upon an unknown and barren coast with the Indians on one side and the Spaniards perhaps barring our way to Fort Caroline and Mademoiselle! I was weak and could not bear to think more. The horror of it overcame me! I rose to my feet and strode up the beach like one distraught, breasting the flying sand and peering fruitlessly through the mist, vainly searching for some familiar mark to judge of our whereabouts. The motion of struggling against the wind seemed to lessen the dreadful ferment of mind; and bare-handed and worn as I was, no wish remained except only to press onward to Mademoiselle, or learn that she was safe. Once above the roaring of the storm I heard a sound like the cry of a woman and, with heart a-leap started running with all my might. But it was only some shrill creature which swirled near on the wind, uttering its storm-cry. On I struggled, heat and fever making riot of thought, until I fell again exhausted to the beach. I remember closing my eyes, but the eyeballs swam in a red mist and burned so that I opened them again. Then I seemed to sleep and dream. I saw dimly a woman seated at a table in a room. Back of her and around her were many men in armor, and their hands and faces were streaked with the red. It was Mademoiselle! By her side, leaning forward toward her, was a man, his eyes swimming as he gazed and his white teeth gleaming hatefully through his beard. He had a mug upraised, from which the liquor was spilling about as he pledged her, laughing coarsely the while. I could hear him too; for there was a gruesome reality about it. The others watched amused. He reached toward her, and I saw her shrink to a corner, away. He came again. She took a dagger from her bosom. Then drew herself up cold, white, and set, the weapon in both hands at her heart. No one moved. They stood, those men in armor, their hands raised, like statues. There was silence, deadly and oppressive; and I was dumb too and could make no sound. Then everything grew red again and I saw no more. In my agony I dug my nails deep into the sand and I cried aloud, calling to God. It was not so! It could not be so! I was mad! Yes, yes,—I knew that I was mad, and that comforted me.
By and by—it was a long while—for the clouds had broken and the light of the sun had gone high in the heavens—I grew better and stronger and got upon my feet. Cold and wet, the wind cut sharp as a knife, but the fever had gone, and I laughed aloud to think of the fool I had been. The situation was hopeless enough, but we were strong men, many of us bearing weapons and armor, and much might be done. When the storm abated the other ships would put in and take us aboard. All would yet be well. Even if the ships did not come we would make a forced march through the backwoods, persuading friendly Indians to guide and aid us. We might not be far—perhaps only half a dozen leagues from Fort Caroline.
I went back down the beach the wind at my back, warming with the new impulse until I was soon running again. I found I had gone near a league to the northward, and it was many minutes before I was back among the company. They had moved behind the sand dunes the better to find shelter from the wind. Fires had been kindled and around these they huddled wretchedly, drying their clothing. There was nothing to eat save a few biscuits which had been washed up in a cask, and these were salt-soaked and unpleasing to the taste. Some of the men had gone down the beach, where they found some ledges of moss and rock and brought back a few shell-fish. These they ate raw from the shells; but I was not hungry and they seemed unsightly to me, so I could find no stomach for them.
When I came up La Caille, the sergeant-major, approached.
“Well, sir,” he asked, “what do you find? Is San Augustin to the north or the south?”