At last, on Wednesday morning, having determined to ask the captain what course he had determined to pursue, I was agreeably surprised by hearing him say “that if I wished to go to Cayenne I was my own master, with the condition that I should cause to be sent back all the English who were prisoners there.”
“That does not depend upon me,” I said to him; “but I will promise to make every effort with Monsieur the Commandant to obtain it.”
After some slight objections, which I easily removed, we wrote a new letter to Monsieur d’Orvilliers, of which I was to be the bearer, and, every thing being ready, we embarked—four French and five English—to go to Cayenne. In taking leave of the captain, I said to him, “that if the war continued, and he or any others of his nation should come to Cayenne, I could not again be made prisoner.” He answered me, “that he knew that already; the custom being not twice to make prisoner of the same person in the course of the same war, at least, unless he should be taken with arms in his hands.”
I then thanked him for his honorable treatment of myself, and, grasping his hand, I said to him: “Monsieur, two things give me pain at this parting. It is not exactly the pillage you have made at Oyapoc, because the French will perhaps return you the same with interest; but it is, in the first place, because we have not both of us the same faith; and in the second place, because your people have not been willing to return to me the furniture of my church on the conditions I proposed, reasonable as they are, for it causes me to fear lest the profanation of what belongs to the temple of the Lord may draw down His anger upon you. I would advise you,” I added, while embracing him, “to pray God each day to enlighten you as to the true way to heaven; for as there is but one God, so there can be but one true faith.” After which I descended into the boat which was to carry us; and immediately I saw all the crew come up on deck, the flag and pennant were hoisted, the gun was fired, and we were many times saluted with “Houras,” to which we replied as often with “Vive le roi.”
Scarcely had we gone a quarter of a league on our way when the ship got under sail, and, toward five o’clock, we lost sight of her. The sea, however, was very rough, and we had only miserable oars to row with, when, to complete our difficulty, our rudder became disabled. A hinge, which was held in its place by a screw below, came out and fell into the sea. We then resorted to the only expedient in our power, that of attaching the ring of the rudder to the stern-post of the boat; but the iron shortly wore off the cord, and we found ourselves in great danger. What increased our fear was, that the night became very dark, and we were far distant from land. We determined, therefore, to anchor until next morning, when we could find out some way to relieve ourselves from this unfortunate condition. As the English appreciated better than we did the peril in which we were, one of them proposed to me to hoist the lantern high up on one of the masts, as a signal for succor. But I represented to him its uselessness, because we were too far distant to be seen, and, besides, no one would dare to come to us in the uncertainty whether we were friends or enemies.
Thus we passed a distressing night, between life and death; and what was very remarkable is, that we had anchored, without knowing it, between two large rocks, which we did not see until day dawned. After having returned thanks to God for having so visibly protected us, we resolved to gain the river, that, if possible, we might repair the boat, or procure another at the neighboring dwellings, or, as a last resource, go by land to Cayenne. But behold! a new accident. As we took down the large mast, not having much strength of crew, they allowed it to go on the opposite side from that on which it should naturally fall. We all thought it would have crushed M. de la Landerie, but happily he had only some slight bruises. We took at that time—the sergeant and myself—one oar to steer, the others each taking one to row; and, aided partly by the wind (for we carried our foremast to enable us to avoid the breakers), and partly by the tide, which began to rise, but, above all, conducted by the Divine Providence which guided us, on the morning of the 26th we entered the little river Macouria, which I have already mentioned. None of us were acquainted with the channel; so that the English themselves earnestly avowed that it was God who had conducted us, safe and sound, in spite of the great dangers.
Our first object was to obtain some means of getting to Cayenne; but this was not an easy matter. In addition to the fact that we could not find a boat or any way of repairing our own, the negroes, who were the only persons left at the dwellings, were so frightened that they did not wish to recognize us. As it had already become known that I was a prisoner, they feared lest the English had sent me ashore as a lure, through my means to entrap the slaves. Nevertheless, after many protestations and prayers and solicitations, I reassured some, who, more courageous than the rest, dared to approach us; and, through their means, we obtained some little refreshment, of which we certainly stood very much in need. For myself, as I was scarcely able to take any nourishment, and for this reason was very weak, I was hardly able to sustain myself.
As soon as each one was a little recruited, I consigned to the negroes the boat, which we left in their care with all the rigging and sails, and we set out on our journey to Cayenne, along the borders of the ocean. We did not wish to go into the interior of the country, for fear of affording our enemies a knowledge of the place, which hereafter might be an injury to us. The night which followed favored my design, and I can say with truth that the five English whom I took with me saw nothing which could be of any service to them, if at any future day, in the course of this war, they should take a fancy to return to us.
It would be difficult, not to say impossible, my Reverend Father, to describe to you what we suffered during this journey of only three or four leagues. As the tide rose, and for that reason we were obliged to make our way over the high ground of the shore, where the sand is very shifting, we sunk into it; and most of us had the greatest difficulty to drag ourselves along, so that I frequently saw the greater part of our party obliged to stop and rest. The English, particularly, being little accustomed to march, found the journey very long, and would have been very willing to be back in their vessel. But it was their fault that they found themselves in such difficulty. In sending us ashore, they themselves knew that the boat in which we embarked was unseaworthy. They should have given me notice of it at the time, and I would have demanded another from the captain.
At last, by dint of encouraging and animating them, we reached the point which the river forms, and which fronts on the roadstead. It was about midnight when we arrived at the dwelling of Madame de Charanville, where the slaves, knowing the good heart and generosity of their mistress, although alone, gave us the best reception they were able, to recompense us for the privations we had suffered. I had taken the precaution to send before us a negro of our party, to remove their fears on our arrival; for without this, we should have run a great risk of not being received, so great was the fright which had everywhere seized on these poor wretches. So good a reception gave great satisfaction to the English, who themselves feared being killed or maltreated by the negroes, which would certainly have happened had I not been with them. For this reason they never left me. At length, after having taken a little rest, as soon as it was day we embarked in a boat we had found, and continued our route to Cayenne.