“In what place,” he asked me, “would you have hid all these things? Would you have hid them in the ground?”
“No,” I replied; “we would have been contented with carrying them into the woods, and covering them with branches.”
It was, then, for this, that these cunning pirates, who weigh and put together all our words, imagining that I did not have sufficient time to carry very far what I esteemed most precious, were induced, as the last effort of their cupidity and distrust, to make a search under the trees in my garden. But it was impossible that they should find what had never been placed there; so the sailor soon grew tired of searching; and, he having returned, we went together to the fort,—they without any booty, and I with some few of the papers I had collected.
Then for some time they consulted together, and about three o’clock they went to set my house on fire. I prayed them at least to spare the church, and this they promised me. But, notwithstanding, they burned it; and when I complained, they told me that the winds, which that day were very high there, had undoubtedly carried thither some sparks, which had set it on fire. With this answer I was obliged to be contented, leaving to God the time, the care, and the manner of avenging the insult offered to His house. For myself, seeing the flames rising up to the clouds, and having my heart pained with the most lively sorrow, I began to recite the seventy-eighth Psalm, “Deus venerunt gentes,” &c. (“O God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance,” &c.)
At last, after every thing was carried to the boats, we ourselves embarked. It was a little after five o’clock; and the sailors, who were to follow us in two small boats, finished by burning all the buildings of the fort. At length, having rowed out a little into the river, and allowing themselves to clear the shore very slowly with the current, they shouted many times, “Houra,” which is their “Vive le roi,” and their cry of joy. They had not, however, any great occasion to pride themselves on their expedition, since, had it not been for the black treason which delivered us into their hands, they would never have succeeded. Neither was it of any use; because, though they had inflicted a great injury on us, they had themselves derived very little profit from it.
I had expected to find the ship where I left it; but it had already stood off in such a way that we did not arrive there till the night was far advanced; so that they did not discharge their booty until the next day, the morning of the 19th of the month. During the whole of this day they made no progress, although they used their oars, as their sails were useless for want of wind. This delay disquieted me very much, because I wished as soon as possible to know my fate. “Would they leave me at Cayenne?” I said to myself. “Will they carry me to Surinam? Will they take me to Barbadoes? or even as far as New England?” And, as I was occupying myself with these inquiries, lying in my berth, which I was not able to quit on account of my great weakness and the seasickness, which afflicted me terribly, some one came to tell me that they had sent on shore three of our soldiers, with one old Indian, captured in the canoe of the Aroüas, of which I have already spoken. I was a little surprised; and, on asking the captain the reason, he told me that it made so many useless mouths the less.
“And why,” said I, “do you not do the same towards all the other prisoners?”
“It is,” said he, “because I am waiting for a good ransom for the rest of you.”
He would have given a much truer excuse if he had said, that, wishing to make a descent on Cayenne, he was afraid that some of his people might be captured, in which case he wished to have some with whom to make an exchange, which did in reality happen, as we shall see in the end.
The wind having freshened a little in the evening, we continued our voyage through the whole night, and before noon approached Cayenne, off a high rock named Connestable, and which is five or six leagues distant. They had already learned of the disaster which had befallen Oyapoc,—perhaps by a note which a young Indian had written, or perhaps through some inhabitants of Aproakac, who had come to take refuge at Cayenne. But they were ignorant of all the circumstances; and the public, as it commonly happens in such cases, set in circulation many reports, each one more false than the last. Some said that every person at Oyapoc had been massacred, and that I, in particular, had suffered a thousand cruelties. Others published that there were many ships there, and that Cayenne would be obliged to submit to the same fate. What seemed to give a little sanction to the last news was, that the ship which had captured us carried with it three boats, which, with the long-boat, made five vessels. All having sails and looming up, at a distance caused them to make a formidable appearance to those who were on shore.