“They resist me, their Paracoussi,” said Utina bitterly, “and have resolved on fighting with you! They will wage war against you to the last. See you not the planted arrows that marked your pathway to my village? These arrows are planted from the territories of Utina, by every pathway, to the very gates of La Caroline. They will meet your eyes wherever you shall return to the fortress. They mean nothing less than war, and such warfare as admits of no peace. Go you, therefore, go you with all speed to your vessels, and make what haste you can to the garrison. The woods swarm with my warriors, and they no longer heed my voice. They will hunt you to your vessel. They mean to throw trees athwart the creek so that her escape may be cut off, while they do you to death with their arrows, and I cannot be there to say to my people—‘stay your shafts, these be our friends and allies.’ They no longer hearken to my voice. I am a Paracoussi without subjects, a ruler without obedience,—a shadow, where I only used to be the substance.”
The despondency of the king was without hypocrisy. It sensibly impressed our Frenchmen. They felt that he spoke the truth. He was then, in fact, excluded from the house of council, as incurring the suspicion of the red-men as fatally friendly to the whites. While they still conversed, they were alarmed by violent shrieks, as of one in mortal terror.
“That scream issues from a French throat!” exclaimed D’Erlach, as he rushed forth. He was followed by Lieutenant Ottigny and another. The Paracoussi never left his seat. The screams guided them into a neighboring thicket, into which they hurried, arriving there not a moment too soon. A Frenchman struggled in the grasp of five stalwart savages, who had him down and were preparing to cut his throat. He had been beguiled from the place which had been assigned him as a watch, and was about to pay the penalty of his folly with his life. In an instant the gallant Alphonse D’Erlach had sprung among them, his sword passing clear through the back of the most prominent in the group of assailants. His body, falling upon that of the captive, prevented the blows which the rest were showering upon him. They started in sudden terror at this interruption. Their own and the clamors of the Frenchman had kept them from all knowledge of the approaching rescue. In an instant they were gone. They waited for no second stroke from a weapon whose first address was so sharp and sudden. They left their captive, bruised and groaning, but without serious injury to life or limb.
The warnings and assurances of the Paracoussi were sufficiently enforced by this instance of the hostility of the red-men. But the necessity of securing all the supplies they might possibly procure from the natives, either through their own artifices or because of the apprehension for their chiefs, caused our Frenchmen to linger at the village of Utina. They were determined to wait the full period of four days which they had assigned themselves. In this period they saw the Paracoussi more than once. At each interview his admonitions were delivered with increased solemnity. They found his chiefs less and less accommodating at every interview. The piles of grain at the council-house increased slowly. Occasionally an Indian might be seen to enter and cast the contents of his little basket among the rest. The Frenchmen endeavored to persuade the chiefs to furnish men to carry the grain to their vessel, but this was flatly denied. Resolved, finally, to depart, each soldier was required to load himself with a sack as well filled as it was consistent with his strength to bear. This was slung across his shoulder, and, in this way, burdened with food for other mouths as well as their own, and carrying their matchlocks besides, the Frenchmen prepared to depart, on the morning of the 27th July, 1565, from the village of Utina to the bark which they had left. It was a memorable day for our adventurers. In groups, scornfully smiling as they beheld the soldiers staggering beneath their burdens, the chiefs assembled to see them depart from the village. Alphonse D’Erlach beheld the malignant triumph which sparkled in their eyes.
“We shall not be suffered to reach the bark in quiet;” was his remark to Ottigny. “Let me have the advance, Monsieur, if you please; I have dealt with the dogs before.”
To this Ottigny consented; and leading one of the divisions
of the detachment, as at coming, D’Erlach prepared to take the initiate in a progress, every part of which was destined to be marked with strife. The immediate entrance to the village of the Paracoussi, the only path, indeed, by which our Frenchmen could emerge, lay, for nearly half a mile, through a noble avenue, the sides of which were densely occupied by a most ample and umbrageous forest. The trees were at once great and lofty, and the space beneath was closed up with a luxuriant undergrowth which spread away like a wall of green on either hand. D’Erlach remembered this entrance.
“Here,” said he to Ottigny, “Here, at the very opening of the path, our trouble is likely to begin. Let your men be prepared with matches lighted, and see that your fire is delivered only in squads, so that, at no time, shall all of your pieces be entirely empty.”
Ottigny prepared to follow this counsel. His men were all apprised of what they had to expect; and were told, at the first sign of danger, to cast down their corn bags, and betake themselves to their weapons wholly. The grain might be lost—probably would be—but better this, than, in a vain endeavor to preserve it, lose life and grain together. Thus prepared, D’Erlach began the march. He was followed, at a short interval, by Ottigny, with the rest of the detachment; a small force of eight arquebusiers excepted, who, under charge of a sergeant, were sent to the left of the thicket which bounded the avenue on one hand, with instructions to scour the woods in that quarter, yet without passing beyond reach of help from the main body.
All fell out as had been anticipated. D’Erlach was encountered as he emerged from the avenue, by a force of three hundred Indians. They poured in a cloud of arrows, but fortunately at such a distance as to do little mischief. With the first assault the Frenchmen dispossessed themselves of their burdens, and prepared themselves for fight. The savages came on more boldly, throwing in fresh flights of arrows as they pushed forward, and rending the forests with their cries. D’Erlach preserved all his steadiness and coolness. He saw that the arrows were yet comparatively ineffectual.