The signal was understood, a mantle of fringed and gorgeously-dyed cotton was brought him by one of his sons. His macana, or war-club, and a mighty bow from which he could deliver a shaft more than five English feet in length, were also brought him. Over his shoulder the mantle was thrown by one of his attendants. The war-club was carried before him by a page. But, before he left the vessel, he bent his bow, fixed one of the shafts upon the deer sinews, which formed the cord, and drawing it to its head, sent it high in air, until it disappeared for a few seconds from the sight. This was a signal to his people. Their king, like the arrow, was freed from its confinement. It had gone like a bird of mighty wing, into the unchained atmosphere. A cloud of arrows from the shore followed that of their sovereign. To this succeeded a great shout of thanks and deliverance—“He! He! yo-he-wah! He—he—yo-he-wah.” The echo of which continued to ring through the vaulted forests, long after the Paracoussi had disappeared within their green recesses.
[CHAPTER III.]
The Paracoussi, on parting with Laudonniere, renewed his assurances of good will, and repeated the promises which had been given to ensure his deliverance from captivity. The engagement required that a certain number of days should be allowed him, in which to gather supplies in sufficient quantity to discharge his ransom. Laudonniere left his lieutenants, Ottigny and D’Erlach, with the two hostages, in one of the barks, to receive the provisions which Utina was to furnish, while he himself returned to La Caroline. The lieutenants moored their vessel within a little creek which emptied into the May, and adopted all necessary precautions against savage artifice. The vigilance of Alphonse D’Erlach, in particular, was sleepless. He knew, more certainly than his superior, the necessities and dangers of the French, and the subtlety of the Indians. By day and night they lurked in the contiguous thickets, watchful of every opportunity for assault. An arquebuse presented in wantonness against the ledge which skirted the river, would frequently expel a group of shrieking warriors, well armed and covered with the war paint; and, with the dawn of morning, the first thing to salute the eyes of our Frenchmen would be long strings of arrows, planted in the earth, their barbs of flint turned upwards, from which long hairs shreds from heads which had been shorn for war, were to be seen waving in the wind. These were signs, too well understood by previous experience, of a threatened and sleepless hostility.
It was soon found that the Paracoussi either could not or would not comply with his engagements. He sent a small supply of grain to the lieutenant, but said that more could not be provided except by a surrender of the hostages. The Frenchmen were required to bring the captives to the village, when and where they should be furnished with the full amount of the promised ransom. Satisfied that all this was mere pretence, indicating purposes of treachery, the Frenchmen were yet too much straitened by want to forego any enterprise which promised them provisions. They, accordingly, set forth for the place appointed, in two separate bodies, marching so that they might support each other promptly, under the several leads of D’Erlach and Ottigny. The former held the advance. The village of Utina was six French leagues from the river where they left their barque, and the route which they were compelled to pursue was such as exposed them frequently to the perils of ambuscade. But so vigilant was their watch, so ready were they with matches lighted, and so close was the custody in which they kept their hostages, that the Indians, whom they beheld constantly flitting through the thickets, dared never make any attempt upon them. They reached the village in safety, and immediately proceeded to the dwelling-house of Olata Utina, raised, as before described, upon an artificial eminence. Here they found assembled all the chiefs of the nation; but the Paracoussi was not among them. He kept aloof, and was not to be seen at present by the Frenchmen. His chiefs received their visitors with smiles and great professions; but, as their own proverb recites, when the enemy smiles your scalp is in danger. They pointed to great sacks of mil and beans which had already been accumulated, and still they showed the Frenchmen where hourly came other of their subjects adding still more to the pile.
“But wherefore,” they demanded, “wherefore come our white brethren, with the fire burning in their harquebuses? See they not that it causes our women to be afraid, and our children to tremble in their terror. Let our brethren put out this fire, which makes them dread to come nigh with their peace-offerings, and know us for a friend, under whose tongue there is no serpent.”
To this D’Erlach replied—“Our red brothers do themselves wrong. They do not fear the fire in our harquebuses. They know not its danger. The Frenchmen have always forborne to show them the power that might make them afraid. But this power is employed only against our enemies. Let the chiefs of the people of the Paracoussi Utina show themselves friends, and the thunder which we carry shall only send its fearful bolts among the foes of Utina, the people of Potanou, and the warriors of the great mountain of Apalatchy.”
“If we are thus friends of the Frenchmen, why do they keep our beloved men in bondage? Are these the ornaments proper to a warrior and a great chief among his people?”
They pointed as they spoke to the fetters which embraced the legs and arms of the hostages, who sat in one corner of the council-house.
“Our red brothers have but to speak, and these chains fall from the limbs of their well beloved chiefs.”
“Heh!—We speak!—Let them fall!”