The Lily and the Totem; or, The Huguenots in Florida

by William Gilmore Simms

The bearer of these presents from Hostaqua was an inferior chieftain named Oolenoe. This cunning savage, of whom we shall know more hereafter, did not fail to perceive that the ruling passion of our Huguenots was gold. It was only, therefore, to mumble the precious word in imperfect Gallic—to extend his hand vaguely in the direction of the Apalachian summits, and cry “gold—gold!” and the adroit orator of the Lower Cherokees, on behalf of his tribe or nation, readily commanded the attention of his gluttonous auditors. His arguments

and entreaties proved irresistible, and the present earnestness of Laudonniere, at La Caroline, was in preparing for this expedition. To conquer Potanou, and to obtain from Hostaqua the clues to the precious region where the gold was reputed to grow, with almost a vegetable nature, was the motive for arming his European warriors. It was also his policy, borrowed from that of the Spaniards, to set the native tribes upon one another;—a fatal policy in the end, since they must invariably, having first destroyed the inferior, turn upon the superior, through the irresistible force of habit. But, even with the former object, we do not perceive that there was any necessity to take any undue pains in its attainment. Tribes that live by hunting only, must unavoidably come into constant collision. No doubt the natural tendency of the savage might be stimulated and made more inveterate and active, by European arts; and Laudonniere, however Huguenot, was too little the Christian to forbear them. With this policy he proposed to justify himself to those who were averse to the present enterprise. One of these was his favorite, Alphonse D’Erlach, the youth to whom he owed his life. This young man, on the present occasion, approached him where he stood, eager and excited with the business of draughting the proper officers and men for the present hopeful expedition. At a little distance, stood the stern old savage, Oolenoe, grimly looking on with a satisfaction at his heart, which was not suffered to appear on his immovable features. The artist of the statuesque might have found in his attitude and appearance, an admirable model. While his eye caught and noted every look and movement, and his ear every known and unknown sound and accent, the calm unvarying expression of his glance and muscles was that of the most perfect and cool indifference. They only did not sleep. He leaned against a sapling that stood some twenty paces removed from the entrance of the fort, a loose cotton tunic about his loins, and his bow and quiver suspended from his shoulders, in a richly-stained and shell-woven belt, the ground work of which was cotton also. A knife, the gift of Laudonniere, was the only other weapon which he bore; but this was one of those very precious acquisitions which the Indian had already purposed to bury with him.

As Alphonse D’Erlach approached his commander, a close observer might have seen in the eyes of Oolenoe, an increased brilliancy of expression. The sentiment which it conveyed was not that of love. It is with quick, intelligent natures to comprehend, as by an instinct of their own, in what quarter to find sympathies, and whence their antipathies are to follow. Oolenoe had soon discovered that D’Erlach was not friendly to his objects. With this conviction there arose another feeling, that of contempt, with which the extreme youth, and general effeminacy of the young man’s appearance, had inspired him. He did not seem the warrior,—and the Indian is not apt to esteem the person of whose conduct in battle he has doubts. Besides, the costume of D’Erlach was that of dandyism; and, though the North American savage was no humble proficient in the arts of the toilet, yet these are never ventured upon until the reputation of the hunter and warrior have been acquired. Of the abilities of D’Erlach, in these respects, Oolenoe had no knowledge; and his doubts, therefore, and disrespects, were the natural result of his conviction that the youth was suspicious of, and hostile to, himself. Of these feelings, D’Erlach knew nothing, and perhaps cared as little. His features, as he drew nigh to Laudonniere, were marked with more gravity and earnestness than they usually expressed; and, touching the wrist of his commander, as he approached him, he beckoned him somewhat farther from his followers:

“It is not too late,” said he, “to escape this arrangement.”

“And why seek to escape it, Alphonse?” replied the other, with something like impatience in his tones.

“For the best of reasons. You can have no faith in this savage. If there be this abundance of gold in the country, why brings he so little. Where are his proofs? But this is not all. But lately our enemy, jealous of our presence, and only respectful because of his fears, we can have no confidence in him, as an ally. He will lead the men whom you give him, into ambuscade—into remote lands, where provision will be found with difficulty,—require to be fought for at every step, and where the best valor in the world, and the best conduct will be unavailing for their extrication.”

“To prevent this danger, Alphonse, you shall have command of the detachment,” said Laudonniere, with a dry accent, and a satirical glance of the eye.

“I thank you, sir, for this proof of confidence,” replied the other, no ways disquieted, “and shall do my best to avoid or prevent the evils that I apprehend from it; but——”

“I have every confidence in your ability to do so, Alphonse,” said the other, interrupting him in a tone which still betrayed the annoyance which he felt from the expostulations of his favorite. The latter proceeded, after a slight but respectful inclination of the head.