<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</SPAN><br/> <small>THE MARTYRDOM.</small></h2>
<p class="cap">The morning of that dreadful day dawned cold
and clear. In the east over the ocean the
sky was bright and glorious as though the heavens
were opening. But scan the sea as we might, not
a sail appeared and all hope of thus saving ourselves
from imprisonment was gone.</p>
<p>When the company of Arlac had disappeared
around the point a league or so away to the southward,
the Admiral arose from where he had been
lying upon the beach by one of the fires and, calling
about him those who would come, knelt down upon
the sand and fervently prayed for the safety of those
who had been spared until that day. Then rising
he went down the beach and with La Caille, Bourdelais
and myself, entered the canoe and we were
rowed rapidly to the other shore. The Admiral, in
order to keep his part of the compact with De
Avilés, carried with him the royal standard and other
flags, his sword, dagger, helmet, buckler and the
official seal given him by Coligny.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Menendez, upon our approach, arose and stood
waiting for the Admiral to speak.</p>
<p>“I have come in behalf of myself and one hundred
and fifty persons of my command to surrender as
honorable prisoners of war. I have brought these
standards and my personal arms and seal in token
of the good faith which shall therefore bear equally
between us.”</p>
<p>Menendez motioned to one of his officers, who
took from the hands of La Caille and me these
things which we had brought.</p>
<p>“Two hundred of your men,” said the Spaniard,
“have retreated from their position and I will wage
a war against them with blood and fire. And you I
shall treat as our Lord shall inspire.”</p>
<p>Calling to some of his soldiers, he directed two
of them to enter the canoe and bring over the
Frenchmen, who stood waiting upon the opposite
bank. It seemed that they were to come in companies
of ten and, as they arrived, would be made
prisoners by an equal number of the Spanish soldiers
and led toward San Augustin.</p>
<p>Then Menendez came again to where we stood at
the edge of the bushes. He was surrounded by a
number of his soldiers and he motioned to us to
move behind the sand-hills; this, unsuspecting, we
did, out of sight of the other shore.</p>
<p>Then for the first time I took notice of the face of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span>
the Adelantado. If it were hard and cruel of ordinary,
the look it now wore was like nothing so much
as that of a wild beast; his under jaw and lip projected
hideously, but under the brows, in spite of
their ferocity, there was the gleam of intelligence
and cunning which made the whole expression the
more sinister and dreadful. He came close to the
Admiral, looking him in the face:—</p>
<p>“Juan Ribao,” he said, “you and all of your company
are now in my power, and I shall do with you—<em>as
God shall give me grace</em>!”</p>
<p>As God should give him grace! I looked around
me at the bearded faces of the soldiery, who were
now closing in upon us, and the menace of those
words,—the very same that he had uttered in his
promise of yesterday,—first dawned upon me with
its terrible meaning.</p>
<p>The Admiral looked him in the eyes, still unknowing.
“I am ready to go with you,” he replied calmly.</p>
<p>But two soldiers came up from behind, seizing his
arms and then—and not till then—the scales fell
from the eyes of all of us and we saw that we had
been duped,—trapped, by this arch fiend and traitor.</p>
<p>La Caille and I exchanged glances and turning
about made one desperate spring for liberty. La
Caille fell full upon the point of a pike and so died,
making not even an outcry. A sword scratched my
arm and I pitched upon the figure of the man who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>
wielded it. The sword flew from his hand, but his
arms closed about me tightly and over and over we
rolled among the bushes, the soldiers dodging about
trying to get their weapons home upon my body,
but fearing to hurt their fellow. He was strong and
I weak from lack of food; in a few moments he
had me undermost, while he was striving to draw a
poniard. Another man here fell upon my legs,
while still another was running forward with a partisan.</p>
<p>I gave myself up for lost. Hoping to warn
those who had not yet been conveyed across the
channel, I let forth a loud cry. Then my adversary
leaned down on me, clapping his hand across my
mouth. I bit into his finger fiercely and thought
the dagger was coming down.</p>
<p>But I saw his face at the same moment that he
saw mine; and knew why I had been so easily overcome,
for it was Don Diego de Baçan! I watched
the point of the dagger; but it did not fall. His
surprise was so great that his hand remained suspended
in mid-air, and he drew in a quick breath of
fright as though he had seen a phantom. His soldiers,
noting his discomfiture, did not strike, but
stood waiting. In a moment a knowledge of the
truth came to him.</p>
<p>Then, perhaps in a spirit of fair play, remembering
a time when I had set him free, he lowered his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span>
weapon and bade his men bind and gag me and set
me on my feet.</p>
<p>He stood in front of me holding his sides, alternately
laughing and sucking his bitten finger.</p>
<p>“Well, well, Sir Pirato, the dead hath come to life
of a verity. And this is no miracle but a clear process
of reasoning. It would have grieved me much
to see thee die just now, for I have rarely met a man
of such honest thews. It doth me good to see thy
face again. Though by my conscience I have always
sworn that I like not a beard upon the countenance
of Englishmen, which to my mind should ever
be round and hairless like the sucklings that they
are.”</p>
<p>I listened composedly to his banter, glad of the
chance to rid my mind of the horror which was to
come.</p>
<p>“It is a pity, my fledgling cock, that Mademoiselle
de la Notte did not inform me—ah! you start.
Yes, yes, she lives—in very excellent health and
would have bidden you farewell, had she known.
She will mourn when you’re dead, Sir Pirato, for she
thinks of you with great kindness.” And so he
went on adding one insult to another, veiling them
under this thin coating of humor, so that they might
cut the deeper. But I saw from his surprise and
from the manner in which he spoke that Mademoiselle
had told him nothing. He was lying in his<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span>
throat. If she were alive she was safe also from him—that
I knew. But I trembled with rage at his manner
and innuendos and would have killed him if
I could. I remembered the chance I had upon
the <i>Cristobal</i> and felt accursed for having let such
a thing as he continue to live upon the earth. I saw
him go over to the Adelantado and talk earnestly,
pointing toward me as though asking some favor.
The Adelantado shook his head in refusal, but at
last wavering, seemed to give assent.</p>
<p>The safety of Mademoiselle was first in my
thoughts and made me almost happy as I stood
there, though for myself there seemed little chance
that I should come out of the adventure alive. De
Baçan had won, it seemed. If there were a chance
of escape I should not be slow to take it; but if I
were to die I would show no white feather to this
Spaniard whom I hated,—and now hate, even that
he is dead, as I think no man was ever hated
before.</p>
<p>My comrades of the <i>Trinity</i> gave no sign of fear,
though they felt the nearness of their doom as keen
as I. The Admiral stood erect, his head high in
air. Bourdelais had been pinioned and bound, and
stood near his chief, helpless but determined that
no supplication for pity should escape his lips. My
heart went out to the Sieur de la Notte, for he was
white as death and so weak that two soldiers carried<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span>
him. His livid, delicate face looked this way and
that as though his mind wandered and were unconscious
of it all. I wanted to speak to him one last
word—to tell him that Mademoiselle was alive and
might be among the people of Satouriona; he
might have died happy. The pity of it! But I
could not, for my mouth was bandaged tightly and
it was impossible for me to make a sound above a
murmur.</p>
<p>At length all the Frenchmen of Ribault had come
upon this shore and stood or lay bound and helpless
among the sand-hills. Then Menendez de Avilés
came to Admiral Ribault and said again,</p>
<p>“Is there any one among you who will go to
confession?”</p>
<p>Ribault turned his head, closing his eyes and answered
calmly,</p>
<p>“I and all here are of the Reformed Faith.”</p>
<p>Then he looked upward as though making one
last mute appeal for the lives of the men whom he
had unwittingly led to this martyrdom. His face
shone with a new beauty as he gazed upward, and
the heavens smiled back at him. The brightness,
and glory of the day were wonderful, and that
made the contrast the stranger. It even seemed as
though the sun, the sea, the sky and all the wonders
of God’s earth and firmament were sullied and polluted
by the touch of these atrocities. There, upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</SPAN></span>
the lonely sand-spit in the hands of these fanatics,
we were forgotten of God.</p>
<p>Then Ribault raised his voice in a chant which
mingled softly with the roar of the surf and melted
into the air like the passing of a soul. It was the
Psalm “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Domine memento mei</i>” and one by one the
Huguenots, some kneeling, but most standing upright,
fearlessly took it up until a great and holy
prayer went up to God. There was something
greater than the things of earth in that grand chorus,
and in the faces of these martyrs was the look
which must be borne by those already within the
gates of Paradise.</p>
<p>As I saw Menendez de Avilés and his butchers
come forward, closing in, two men took me from
the rear, dragging me behind a sand-hill, throwing
me upon the beach and tightly binding my feet and
legs with ropes and arquebus cords. They fastened
my handkerchief over the bandage upon my
mouth to make it the more secure, and passed this
closely over my ears so that now only sight remained
to me. But this assisted me little, for my
neck was bound so tight that I could not turn my
head. They threw me face downward upon the
sand and so left me.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>I lay there I know not how long, expecting each
moment to receive the point of a pike between the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</SPAN></span>
shoulders. I have thanked God many times since
then that in those dreadful moments he made me
powerless to see and hear. So great was the agony
of mind that more than once I prayed that all might
soon be ended. The sufferings through which I was
passing had made me well-nigh distraught; but it
was only a temporary lunacy like that upon the
beach after the wreck. And I have come to this
day, at a ripe age, in full possession of all my
faculties. Death was not yet for me.</p>
<p>In a while there came two of these fiends reeking
and drunk with slaughter; unbinding my feet,
they bade me follow on behind their fellows who
had gone before toward San Augustin, carrying
their bloody trophies. The lives of four others
beside mine own had been spared; and we prisoners,—De
Brésac, a fifer, a drummer and a trumpeter
were tied together for our better security, and in
single line were marched up the beach. Each looked
at the heels of the man in front, fearing to raise his
eyes upon some new barbarity. Toward noon
there was a rest and these butchers fed us upon
biscuit and preserved fruits, giving each a draught of
<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">eau de vie</i>. It seemed from this that they meant for
the present to save us further physical suffering.
The drink set new life coursing through my veins,
and by afternoon I had steeled my memory in some
sort against the things which had been, and had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</SPAN></span>
prepared my spirit against the new and, like enough,
more desperate trials of mind and body which must
surely come.</p>
<p>For what else could De Baçan be saving me?
Was it for a torture worse than the death of Ribault,
La Notte and those other martyrs, my companions?
What hideous devilry could he be devising? I
thought of his sinister threat upon the <i>San Cristobal</i>,
and I felt sure he was preparing to work his worst
upon me. But even as I was,—helpless, in his
power,—I had no fear of him; only hatred, which
had driven out all other personal relation. There
was no instrument that the Inquisition had devised
which should provoke one groan, and no torture that
he could invent which should wring one tribute to
his devilish ingenuity. So long as Mademoiselle
were not there to make my pulses tremble, he should
have no sign. Nay, more,—I would escape. Mademoiselle
alive, let them give me so much as half a
hair’s breadth of license and I vowed that there were
not enough Spaniards in all the Flowery Land to
hold me a prisoner. And—why I knew not,—I
was as sure she was alive as though she were
there by my side. I would escape back to Europe
to let the King of France and our own Queen Bess of
England know what manner of fiends the King of
Spain had let loose, to make a living hell of this
great and good land across the water.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was right that I should escape. There were none
who were with Ribault when he was betrayed save me,
and none who could give the lie to the tales this Spaniard
Menendez would tell to his people and to the
people of France. I determined that if God willed,
I would be the instrument of justice upon them.
And if the iron helm of fate were entrusted to my
hands, I would seize it with no light grasp. For the
moment, even the thought of Mademoiselle and all
she had suffered and might still suffer vanished from
my mind, and I wished nothing but vengeance for
the murder of my comrades. I knew not until now
how dear they had been to me. <em>She</em> would understand.
She would know. They were of her religion;
but like me, she had not the humility to bow
meekly under such a blow. If I could first escape
out of their intimate clutches I knew that I could
get to France. There had been many ships on the
Florida coast of late—English ships too—and Admiral
Hawkins, or perhaps even Captain Hooper,
might now be in those waters.</p>
<p>And so my mind planned and planned, as I trudged
along toward San Augustin between the serried
ranks of my captors. There was no chance of escape,
for arquebusiers to the number of ten brought
up the rear, and De Baçan had given them orders to
shoot us in the back did we give the slightest sign
or movement of a nature suspicious. In this fashion<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</SPAN></span>
we walked until dark, De Baçan saying no word nor
even coming near. Then we turned sharply through
the dunes in-shore to the left, and came abruptly to
the bay within the sand-spit and upon four large
barges which had been brought to convey us across
this arm of the sea.</p>
<p>It was not until then that I had a chance for
words with Diego de Baçan. I determined that
could I speak with him I would leave no effort of
diplomacy unmade to secure his attention and approval.
For this was no place for pride, and therein
lay the way to safety. It so happened that in the
boat his thwart was next to mine. With some display
of good humor he addressed me:—</p>
<p>“Gratitude may not be one of your virtues, Sir
Pirato.”</p>
<p>“I find little cause for gratitude, Don de Baçan,”
said I.</p>
<p>“Not even that you have your life as a gift from
the Adelantado? You are truly hard to please.
Here have I saved you from a long wait in the
bowels of hell, and you pay me with what?—not
even a smile of thanks or welcome.”</p>
<p>“Then it is to you I owe my life?”</p>
<p>“For the present, Señor Killigrew.”</p>
<p>“And why have you spared me?”</p>
<p>“I know not. A whim, perhaps.”</p>
<p>“A happy whim for me.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Be not so sure of that, my bantam. I fancied you
dead long since, you see, in spite of the Señorita La
Notte. There was something of surprise that made
me spare you the dagger—something of curiosity
that made me beg your life of the Captain General—curiosity
to see in what way it were best to kill
men like you who die hard.”</p>
<p>“We can die but once,” I returned doggedly.</p>
<p>“I’m not so sure. You don’t die easy, my master.
And you own such fine tough sinews it were
a pity to have you foisted off upon the devil with
such small display of resistance.”</p>
<p>“It is the torture then?” I asked.</p>
<p>“It will be, my friend, as the Adelantado shall
decide. I have a fancy that in a short time thou wilt
become a valiant servant of the Church. I have
known a heretic rabid as thyself, turn speedily
Christian at the stake.”</p>
<p>“Fire is a very excellent servant of the devil,” I
returned, and so warmly that I regretted my petulance
the moment after.</p>
<p>“Ah, you think I may not bend your spirit!
Wait and see. Why, in our army we have a little
soldier so skilful in mechanical toys that he can set
his touch upon each particular nerve in the body,
running his fingers over them as lightly as one would
play the lute.”</p>
<p>“It ill becomes a fine, big man like you,” I returned,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</SPAN></span>
“a man who has little fear of aught upon
the earth, to trifle with these petty contrivances.”
I thought I would try him upon a new course.</p>
<p>“My muscles, like yours, are good enough for
most of the purposes of this life; but with careful
feeding you might best me again. You see, I
acknowledge you. Nay, my bantam, you cannot
again touch my vanity. I fight you no more.”</p>
<p>“You will not fight me in your own camp?” said
I, unwilling to drop the question so easily. “Surely,
there will be little danger to yourself.”</p>
<p>“Who spoke of danger?” he said irritably, and
then laughing, “Ha! ha! I fear no danger. Why
should I fight you? I can see my soldiers take your
spirit out by slow inches. And I will view the spectacle
with great serenity—in company with a lady of
your acquaintance who has been pleased——”</p>
<p>“You devil!” I cried, unable to restrain myself.
“You liar and blasphemer!” and with a leap I
hurled myself against him until he fell against the
gunwale, and we all but went overboard. I striking
at him with my bound hands and elbows. The boat
rocked from this side to that, and we seemed
like to capsize. Several men were striking at me
with boat-hooks and oars, and at length they
dragged me off and threw me down in the bottom
of the boat.</p>
<p>“As God lives—I will kill you now!” he said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</SPAN></span>
fiercely; and rising he drew his dagger. But he
thought better of it before he touched me, for he
thrust the weapon back and sat quietly down on his
thwart.</p>
<p>“We will wait,” he said calmly.</p>
<p>Thus ended my diplomacy! What a fool I was;
perhaps every chance of escape was lost. That was
all there was of it. They would take us to the
camp at San Augustin and there kill us like dogs.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</SPAN></span></p>
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