CHAPTER III.--THE MIDNIGHT ARREST.
Sweet were the slumbers of Monsieur Laudonniere, commandant of thefortress of La Caroline. Anxious was the wakening of Stephen LeGenevois, the conspirator, who, in garbing himself after the fashion ofthe Indian, had not succeeded in clothing his mind in the stolid andstoic nature of his savage companion. The conspirators watched togetherin one of the inner chambers of the fortress. They had not restrictedthemselves to watching merely. Already had Le Genevois made his purposeknown to one of his ancient comrades. The name of this person wasLa Croix. He was one of the trusted followers of Laudonniere, whosesuperior cunning alone had saved him from suspicion, even that ofD'Erlach, at the detection of the former conspiracy. La Croix, in theabsence of the latter, was prepared for more decisive measures. He wasone of those whose insane craving for gold had surrendered him, againstall good policy, to the purposes of the conspirators. He was nowin charge of the watch. As captain of the night, he led the way tothe gates, which, at midnight, he cautiously threw open to the twocompanions of Le Genevois. Fourneaux and Roquette had been waiting forthis moment. They were admitted promptly and in silence. Darkness wasaround them. The fortress slept,--none more soundly than its commander.In silence the outlaws led by La Croix, all armed to the teeth, madetheir way to his chamber. The sentinel who watched before it, joinedhimself to their number. They entered without obstruction and withoutnoise; and, ere the eyes of the sleeper could unclose to his danger, orhis lips cry aloud for succor, his voice was stifled in his throat bythick bandagings of silk, and his limbs fastened with cords which, atevery movement of his writhing frame, cut into the springing flesh. Hewas a prisoner in the very fortress, where, but that day, he exulted inthe consciousness of complete command. A light, held above his eyes,revealed to him the persons of his assailants;--the supposed Indians, inthe outlaws whom he had banished, and others, whom, for the first time,he knew as enemies. When his eyes were suffered to take in the aspectsof the whole group, he was addressed, in his own tongue, by the leadingconspirator.
"Rene Laudonniere," said Stephen Le Genevois, in his bitter tones, "youare in our power. What prevents that we put you to death as you merit,and thus revenge our disgrace and banishment?"
The wretched man, thus addressed, had no power to answer. The big tearsgathered in his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks. He felt thepang of utter feebleness upon him.
"We will take the gag from your jaws, if you promise to make no outcry.Nod your head in token that you promise."
The prisoner had no alternative but to submit. He nodded, and thekerchief was taken from his jaws.
"You know us, Rene Laudonniere?" demanded the conspirator.
"Stephen Le Genevois, I know you!" was the answer.
"'Tis well! You see to what you have reduced me. You have held a trialupon me in my absence. You have sentenced me and my companions tobanishment. You have made us outlaws, and we are here! You see aroundyou none but those on whom you have exercised your tyranny. What hopehave you at their hands and mine? Savage as you have made me in aspect,what should prevent that I show myself equally savage in performance.The knife is at your throat, and there is not one of us who is notwilling to execute justice upon you. Are you prepared to do what wedemand?"
"What is it?"
"Read this paper."
A light was held close to the eyes of the prisoner, and the paper placednear enough for perusal. The instrument was a commission of piracy--asort of half-legal authority, common enough in that day, to the marineof all European countries, under maxims of morality such as made thedeeds of Drake, and Hawkins, and other British admirals, worthy ofall honor, which, in our less chivalric era, would consign them verygenerally to the gallows.
As Laudonniere perused the document, he strove to raise himself, aswith a strong movement of aversion;--but the prompt grasp of Genevoisfastened him down to the pillow.
"No movement, or this!"--showing the dagger. "Have you read?"
"I will not sign that paper!" said the prisoner, hoarsely.
"Will you not?"
"Never!"
"You have heard the alternative!"
Laudonniere was silent.
"You do not speak! Beware, Rene Laudonniere. We have no tender mercies!We are no children! We are ready for any crime. We have already incurredthe worst penalties, and have nothing to fear. But you can serve us,living, quite as effectually as if dead. We do not want your miserablefortress. We are not for founding colonies. It is your ships that wewill take, and your commission. We will spare your life for these.Beware! Let your answer square with your necessities."
"Genevois!" said the prisoner, "even this shall be pardoned--you shallall be pardoned--if you will forego your present purpose."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the person addressed. "This to me! I scorn yourpardon as I do your person! Speak to what concerns you, and what is leftfor you to do. Speak, and quickly, too, for the dawn must not find ushere."
"I will not sign!" said the prisoner, doggedly.
"Then you die!" and the dagger was uplifted.
"Strike--why do you stop?" exclaimed Fourneaux; "we can slay him, andforge the paper."
His threatening looks and attitude, with the stern air which overspreadthe visage of Genevois, and, indeed, of all around him contributed toovercome the resolution of the wretched commander. Besides, a moment'sreflection served to satisfy him, that the conspirators, having gonetoo far to recede, would not scruple at the further crime which theythreatened.
"Will my life be spared if I sign? Have I _your_ oath, Stephen LeGenevois? I trust none other."
"By G--d and the Blessed Saviour! as I hope to be saved, ReneLaudonniere, you shall have your life and freedom!"
"Undo my hands and give me the paper."
"The right hand only," said Fourneaux, with his accustomed timidity.
"Pshaw, unbind him!" exclaimed Genevois; "unbind him, wholly. There,Rene Laudonniere, you are free!"
"I cannot forgive you, Genevois; you have disgraced me forever," saidthe miserable man, as he dashed his signature upon the paper.
"You will survive it, _mon ami_," replied the other, with something likecontempt upon his features. "You are not the man to fret yourself intofever, because of your hurts of honor. And now must you go with us tothe ships. We will muffle your jaws once more."
"You will not carry me with you," demanded the commander, with somethinglike trepidation in his accents.
"No! You were but an incumbrance. We will only take you to the ships,and keep you safe until we are ready to cast off. To your feet, men, andget your weapons ready. Softly, softly--we need rouse no other sleepers.Onward,--the night goes!--away!"
The Lily and the Totem; or, The Huguenots in Florida Page 23
