The Flamingo Feather

by Kirk Munroe

While he was thus working like a mole beneath the ground, the baffled Spaniards above his head were becoming more and more enraged and perplexed. Their thorough search of the building into which they had seen their would-be victim enter, but which no one had seen him leave, failed to discover not only him, but any traces of the great pile of books and papers which they had collected for the purpose of burning.

Finally they became convinced that the building contained some secret chamber that they were unable to detect, and by order of Menendez himself it was set on fire and burned to the ground. Thus the Spaniards felt sure that they had destroyed not only the books and papers, but the unknown enemy who had so daringly risked his life to recover and save them. At the same time they were greatly astonished that he should have quietly permitted the fire to destroy him without making an effort to escape, or allowing a single cry of pain or anguish to betray his presence. After much consideration of the matter they finally concluded that so many of the Huguenots had suffered martyrdom at the stake that they had all learned to endure the torture of burning in silence.

When Réné had finished storing the books and papers as carefully as the circumstances would permit, he at last found time to consider his own safety. Going to the end of the tunnel, and peering cautiously out to make sure that he was not observed, he replaced the bark door beneath its curtain of vines, and began to work his way very slowly and with many a backward glance down the river. It was now broad daylight, and for fear of being seen from the fort, he crept close under shelter of the bank, sometimes crawling on his hands and knees, and often wading in water up to his waist.

At length, by several hours' hard labor, which, coming after his exertions of the preceding night, completely exhausted him, he reached the high bluff which has already been described as commanding a view of several miles both up and down the river. Wearily the tired boy climbed to its summit, from which, as he gazed up the river, he saw with a heavy heart the yellow banner of Spain flaunting itself above the walls of Fort Caroline. As its folds glistened in the bright sunshine, for the storm of the past four days had passed away with the night, they seemed to him like those of some huge and venomous serpent, and he turned from the sight with a shudder.

On the other hand, in the far distance, he saw, still lying at anchor, the two small ships which he believed to be, as they were, the only representatives of the power of France now left in the New World. On these he placed all his hopes of escape, of future happiness, and of life itself.

Anxious as he was to reach the ships and to rejoin his uncle, the poor lad's exhausted frame could withstand the terrible strain upon it no longer. It pleaded for a rest so effectually that Réné flung himself upon a pile of wet moss, determined to snatch an hour's sleep before attempting to proceed farther.

As the boy slept he was visited by troublous dreams that caused him to toss his arms and moan pitifully; and no wonder, after the horrid scenes of which he had so recently been a spectator; no wonder, too, when new and terrible dangers threatened him closely even as he slept. Had he been awake he would have noticed the approach of a small band of Indians, who, appearing on the edge of the forest, made their way directly towards the bluff. It was a party of Seminole warriors, led by their chief the gigantic Cat-sha. With him was Chitta the Snake, and behind them walked three bound prisoners. Two of these were Frenchmen, and the third was an Indian lad who had escaped with his chief from the doomed village of Seloy, only to share the fate of the equally doomed fort in which he had sought shelter. These had thrown themselves from the walls of the fort upon its capture by the Spaniards, and had reached the forest unharmed.

There they had fallen into the hands of these Seminoles who had not fled from this part of the country upon the return of the French, as the latter had supposed, but had lingered in the hope of capturing any white men who might incautiously stray beyond the protecting walls. They desired to capture these that their tortures might form part of the festivities with which they proposed to celebrate their return to their stronghold in the great swamp, and to which the rest of the band, bearing the plunder taken from Fort Caroline after it was abandoned, had already gone. The Seminoles, rejoicing greatly over the fortune that had thrown three victims thus easily into their hands, were now on their way to their canoes, which they had hidden near the foot of this high bluff.

Directing the others to proceed to where the canoes lay, Cat-sha, accompanied by Chitta, ascended the eminence for the purpose of taking a sweeping view of the river and the surrounding country. As they gained the summit Réné's moanings warned them of his presence. Stealing to the spot where he lay with the noiseless footfalls of wild beasts, the two Indians stood for a moment gloating over the unconscious lad. They fully realized the value of this unexpected and welcome prize, for both of them recognized the young white chief the moment their eyes lighted upon him. In another minute the poor lad had awakened with a wild cry of terror, to find himself bound hand and foot, and lying at the mercy of those whom he knew to be his bitterest and most unrelenting enemies.