Presently, upon a hill, outlined clear against the sky, his arquebus upon his shoulder and his breastpieces and helmet catching the first glint of the morning light, a soldier appeared. I fancied that my mind had played my eyes some trick. But the sergeant-major saw him at the same time; and in a moment there followed two, three, five figures who stood besides the first one pointing at us and waving their arms.
Were they friends or enemies—Protestants or Catholics? I strained my eyes to find in their garb or manner some familiar sign.
We had not long to wait, for in a moment other soldiers appeared from behind the hills and out on the air there floated the ominous standard of Spain.
[CHAPTER XII.]
TRUCE.
La Caille started and his cry was echoed from one end of the camp to the other. Officers and men, aroused by the commotion, started up, seizing their weapons, running here and there in bewilderment. The trumpets blared and there was a clanking of steel as the sick and starving men gladly arrayed themselves in the ranks of battle. Ribault, aroused for the moment by the martial sounds and sights, marched before the company, his eyes flashing and his sword bare, giving orders in so inspiring a way that the men took great heart and stood strong and reliant. The arquebusiers loaded their pieces and at an order from their captains, marched down the beach to the end of the sand-spit opposite the Spaniards, where they grounded their arms and waited.
But regardless of this warlike show upon our part, the Spaniards made no move to show their numbers or intentions. Many more men appeared upon the hills and others to the number of three-score or more came out of the bushy hollows between the sand dunes and stood unconcerned looking across at us. There seemed something portentous in this calmness and confidence, and this notion of mine was not quieted by the subsequent actions of the Spanish officers. For three or four of them came upon the beach and arm in arm walked calmly up and down, talking together, while their men sat themselves upon the ground and ate their morning meal.
This calmness of the enemy had its effect upon the companies of the Frenchmen. We could easily see that, sick, hungry and weak as we were, our men could prove no match for these hardy Biscayans, with the confidence born of full bellies and continued good fortune. Our men stood nervously, their hands to their waistbands and their eyes starting from their sunken sockets as they saw these gluttons across the channel contentedly munch their biscuits and drink some steaming stuff which was brought them in a great iron pot from the camp among the hills. The hunger, which during the two days had been reduced to a dull gnawing at the vitals and a general weakness of mind and body, now at the sight of this steaming potage, suddenly became most keen and poignant. As I looked, my mouth opened and my tongue came out from my lips. “Ventre bleu!” shouted De Brésac. “They tantalize us. It is not to be borne.”
Job Goddard, who was one of my company of seamen, made no concealment of his suffering, and leaned upon his pike with both hands, craning his neck, his mouth and eyes wide distended. Then without a word—which was the surer sign of his madness—and without changing his gaze or expression, he threw down his weapon and walked forward out of the ranks, down the beach toward the Spaniards, and into the water until the surface rose over his head. None among us had a notion of his intention until he came up sputtering, for he could not swim, drifting seaward with the tide. He must surely have been drowned had not one of the company fastened upon him from one of the rafts with a boat-hook.