“It is monstrous! It is monstrous!”
He stopped as suddenly by the side of Coligny, putting his hand upon the Admiral’s shoulder. When the Chevalier finished, he said: “It is well, M. de Brésac, you have served the Admiral well—and you, M. Killigrew. You may be sure that this matter is not ended here.” And then to Coligny, “Did you not say, mon père, that there were other reports of this unfortunate colony?”
“Yes, sire, and I will read.”
He seated himself and began, while Brésac and I, uncertain whether the survivors were of the ships or of the fort, strained forward to listen.
It was the narrative of Nicholas Challeux, the carpenter. He spoke at some length of the happenings within the fort and of the attack by the Spaniards which came at an early hour in the morning—at dawn in a driving rain-storm. He himself was surprised going to his duty, with naught but a clasp-knife in his hand. Seeing no other means of escape he turned his back and leaped over the palisade.
“I know not how it was,” said he, “unless by the grace of God, that my strength was redoubled, old man as I am and gray-headed, a thing which I could not have done at any other time, for the rampart was raised eight or nine feet.... Having then lost all hope of seeing our men rally, I resigned all my senses to the Lord. Recommending myself to His mercy, grace and favor, I threw myself into the wood, for it seemed to me that I could find no greater cruelty among the savage beasts than that which I had seen shown toward our people.... By and by I came upon the old crossbow-maker, who was hiding in terror among some bushes, with two gentlewomen, Madame de la Notte and her daughter——”
“Diane!”
I started forward, with a cry which I could not restrain. It seemed as though all my life-blood was ebbing out of my finger-ends.
De Brésac put a hand upon my arm, while the Admiral looked up from his papers sharply.
“You know——” he began.