Perhaps nothing more greatly depresses the ordinary nature than an abode in strange and savage regions during a prevalence of cheerless, unfriendly weather. The soul recoils as it were upon itself, under the ungenial pressure from without, and looking entirely within, finds nothing but wants which it is impossible to satisfy. Memory then studiously recals, as if for the purposes of torture and annoyance, the aspects of the beloved ones who are far from us in foreign lands. The joys which we have had with old and loving associates, the sweets of dear homes, and the sounds of friendly voices, these are the treasures which she conjures up at such periods, in mournful contrast with present privations and all manner of denial. But if, in addition to these, we are conscious of accumulating dangers; if the storm and savage howl without; if hunger craves without being answered, and thirst raves for the drop of moisture to cool its tongue, in vain, we must not wonder if the ordinary nature sinks under its sorrows and apprehension, and loses all the elastic courage which would prompt endeavor and conduct to triumph. The master mind alone, may find itself strong under these circumstances—the man of inexorable will, great faith, and a far-sighted appreciation of the future and its compensations. But it is the master mind only which bears up thus greatly. The common herd is made of very different materials, and in quite another mould.
Don Pedro de Melendez was one of the few minds thus extraordinarily endowed. His prudence, keeping due pace with his religious fanaticism, approved him a peculiar character; a man of rare energies, extraordinary foresight and indomitable will. Resolute for the destruction of the heretics of La Caroline, he was yet one of that class of persons—how few—who can forego the premature attempt to gratify a raging appetite, in recognition of those embarrassing circumstances, which if left unregarded, would only operate for its defeat. He could wait the season, with all patience, when desire might be crowned with fruition. Yet was his thirst a raging one—a master passion—absorbing every other in his soul. All that had taken place on land and sea, had been certainly foreseen by him. Thus had he dispatched his ships seasonably to Hispaniola, as well for their security, as to afford him succor. If he doubted for the safety of those which remained to him, on the approach of Ribault, he was relieved of his doubts by his faith in the interposition of the Deity, and went forth to the encounter, himself heading the forlorn hope, as it were, without any misgivings of the result. He knew that the Deity would, in some manner, make himself manifest in succor for the true believer, even then engaged in the maintenance of His cause. He had foreseen the threatening aspects of the heavens, the wild tumults of the sea, the sullen and angry caprices of the winds. He felt that storm and terror were in prospect, and that they were meant as his defences against his enemy! But this did not prevent him from adopting all proper human precautions. He did not peril his prows beyond the shoals which environed the entrance to his harborage. He did not trust them beyond the natural bars at the mouth of the Selooe, leaving them to the unrestrained fury of the demon winds that sweep the blue waters of the gulf. Nor, assuming the bare possibility that the protection of the Deity might be withheld from the true believer, as much for the trial of his valor as his faith, in the moment of encounter with the heretic, was the Adelantado neglectful of the means for further struggle, should the assailants, successful with his shipping, approach the shores of Selooe in the endeavor to destroy his army. This he sought to protect by the best possible defences. His troops were under arms in order for battle. Every possible advantage of trench and picket was employed for giving them additional securities. His people had already taken possession of the Indian village, from whence the savages had been expelled; and their dwellings were converted into temporary fortresses, each garrisoned with its selected band. It is wonderful, how the veteran chieftain toiled, in the endeavor to secure his position. While he felt how little the Deity needed the strength of man, in working out the purposes of destiny, he well knew how necessary it was that man should show himself worthy, by his prudence and preparations, of the intervention and the care of Deity.
We have seen the issue of the unfortunate attempt of Ribault upon his enemy; with the absence of immediate danger, the first tumults of exultation on the part of the Spaniards, subsided into a sullen and humiliating repose. As night came on, they momently began to feel the increasing annoyances of their situation. That they were in temporary security from the heretic French, left them free to consider, and to feel, the insecurity and the unfriendly solitude of their situation. The frail palm covered huts of the Floridian savages, on the banks of their now raging river, with the tempest roaring among the affrighted forest trees, afforded but a sorry shelter to their numerous hosts. Darkness and thick night closed in upon them in their dreary and comfortless abodes, and their hearts sunk appalled beneath the terrific bursts of thunder that seemed to rock the very earth upon which they stood. They were not the tried veterans of Spain. Many among them wore weapons for the first time, and all were totally inexperienced in that foreign hemisphere, in which the elements wore aspects of terror which had never before entered their imaginations. Their officers were mostly able men and good soldiers, but even these had enjoyed but small experience in the new world. The levies of Melendez had been hurriedly made, with the view to anticipate the progress of Ribault. They were not such as that iron-hearted leader would have chosen for the terrible warfare which he had in view. Chilled by the ungenial atmosphere, confounded with torrents such as they had never before beheld, and which seemed to threaten the return of the deluge, they exaggerated the evils of their situation and feared the worst. They were not ill-advised upon the subject of their own strength and resources, and whatever they might hope in respect to the probable ill-fortunes of Ribault and his fleet, they knew him to be an experienced soldier, and that his armament was superior, while his numbers were quite equal to their own. They now knew that they were the objects of his search and hate, as he had been of theirs, and they still looked with dread to his reappearance, suddenly, and the coming of a conflict which should add new terrors to the storm. They could not conceive the extent of the securities which they enjoyed, and fancied that with a far better acquaintance with the country than they possessed, he would reappear among them at the moment when least expected, and that they should perish beneath the fury of his fierce assault.
While thus they brooded over their situation, officers and men cowering in the frail habitations of the Indians, through which the rushing torrents descended without impediment, extinguishing their fires, and leaving them with no light but that fitful one, the fierce flashes from the clouds, which threatened them with destruction while illuminating the pale faces of each weary watcher;—Pedro Melendez, strengthened by higher if not a holier support, disdained the miserable shelter of the hovels where they crouched together. He trod the shore and forest pathways without sign of fear or shows of disquiet or annoyance. He smiled at the sufferings which he yet strove to alleviate. He opened his stores for the relief of his people, yet partook of none himself. He gave them food and wine of his own, even while he smiled scornfully to see them eat and drink. His solicitude equally provided against their dangers and their fears. He placed the necessary guards against the one, and soothed or mocked the other. He alone appeared unmoved amidst the storm, and might be seen with unhelmed head, passing from cot to cot, and from watch to watch, urging vigilance, providing relief, and encouraging the desponding with a voice of cheer. His eye took in without shrinking, all the aspects of the storm. He gazed with uplifted spirit as the wild red flashes cleft the great black clouds which enveloped the forests in a shroud. “Ay!” he exclaimed, “verily, O Lord! thou hast taken this work into thine own hands!” And thus he went to and fro, without complaint, or suffering, or fatigue, till his lieutenants with shame beheld the example of the veteran whom they had not soul or strength to emulate. His deportment was no less a marvel than a reproach to his people. They could not account for that seemingly unseasonable delight which was apparent in his face, in the exulting tones of his voice, and the eager impulse of his action. That a glow-like inspiration should lighten up his features, and give richness and power to his voice, while they cowered from the storm and darkness in fear and trembling, seemed to them indications rather of madness than of wisdom. But in truth, it was inspiration. Melendez had been visited by one of those sudden flashes of thought which open the pathway to a great performance. A brave design filled his soul; a sudden bright conception, to the proper utterance of which he hurried with a due delight. He summoned his chief leaders to consultation in the great council house of the tribe of Selooe, a round fabric of mixed earth and logs, with a frail palm leaf thatch, fragments of which, the fierce efforts of the tempest momently tore away. The rain rushed through the rents of ruin, the wind shrieked through the numerous breaches in the walls, but Melendez stood in the midst, heedless of these annoyances, or only heedful of them so far as to esteem them services and blessings. He knew the people with whom he had to deal, their fears, their weaknesses, and discontents, the base nature of many of their desires, and the utter incapacity of all to realize the intense enthusiasm which shone within his soul. He could scorn them, but he had to use them. He despised their imbecility, but felt how necessary it was too temporize with their moods, and make them rather forgetful of their infirmities, than openly to denounce and mock them. His eye was fastened upon certain of his chiefs in especial, whose weaknesses were more likely to endanger his objects than those of the rest, since these were associated with a certain degree of pretension arising from their occupance of place. But there is no one in more complete possession of the subtleties of the politician, than the fanatic of intense will. All his powers are concentrated upon the single object, and he values this too highly to endanger it by any rashness. He can make allowances for the weaker among the brethren, so long as they have the power to yield service; he only cuts them down ruthlessly, when, like the tree bringing forth no fruit, the question naturally occurs to the politician, “Why cumbereth it the ground?” Melendez was prepared to act the politician amidst all his fanaticism. For this reason, though his resolution was inexorably taken, he summoned his officers to a solemn deliberation—a council of war—to determine upon what should be done in the circumstances in which they stood.
[CHAPTER IV.]
THE COUNCIL OF WAR AT SELOOE.
It was midnight when the assemblage of the Spanish captains took place in the great council house of the savages of Selooe. Already, that night, had the place been consecrated by the performance of a solemn mass in honor of the Holy Spirit. The purposes of the present gathering were, in the opinion of Melendez, not less honorable to the Deity. Rude logs strewn about the building, even as they had been employed by the red-men, furnished seats for the Spanish officers. They surrounded a great fire of resinous pine, which now blazed brightly in the centre of the apartment. In this respect the scene had rather the appearance of savage rites than of Christian council. In silence, the nobles of Castile, of Biscay and the Asturias took their places. Their eyes were vacant, and their hearts were depressed. They caught nothing of that exulting blaze which lightened up the features of Melendez.
“Oh! ye of little faith!” he exclaimed, rising in their midst, “is it thus that ye give acknowledgment
to God for the blessings ye have received at his hands, and for that care of the Guardian Shepherd, to which ye, thus far, owe your safety? Have ye already lost the memory of that wondrous sign wrought this day for your deliverance,—when your eyes beheld a wall of storm and thunder pass between your captain and his little barques, and the overwhelming squadron of the heretic Ribault? Was this manifestation of his guardian providence made for us in vain? Said it not, plainly as the voice of Heaven might say, that our mission was not ended—that there was other work to be wrought by our hands, and that he was with us, to help us in the great achievement of his purposes. Lo! you now, the very storm, that rages about us, and beneath the terrors of which ye tremble, is but a further proof of his guardianship. Under cover of the rages of the tempest, shall we press on to the complete achievement of our work. We shall march to the conquest of La Caroline,—we shall destroy these arch-heretics—these enemies of God, in the very fortress of their strength—in the very place which they have set apart, in the vain hope of security, as their home of refuge!”
Audible murmurs here arrested the speaker.