Elsie in the South

"Oh, I hope they didn't catch her again – the Spaniards, I mean," exclaimed Ned.

"No," replied Lucilla; "De Soto would not allow her to be pursued."

"Did he and his men stay there in that beautiful valley, Lu?" asked Elsie.

"No; as he could not find the gold he so coveted in Florida, he travelled on in a westerly direction till he reached the Mississippi; a hard journey through a wilderness of forests and marshes. He could nowhere find the gold he so coveted, became discouraged and worn out, was stricken with malignant fever, and died on the banks of the Mississippi in June, 1542."

"A victim to the love of gold, like so many of his countrymen," sighed Grandma Elsie. "The Bible tells us 'the love of money is the root of all evil,' and history repeats the lesson. The love of money led to Pizarro's wicked attack upon the Peruvians, and the conquest of that country was a source of trouble and calamity to all, or nearly all who were concerned in it. As soon as De Soto left, after the capture of Cuzco, the victors began to quarrel with each other for the spoils. Almagro provoked a war with Pizarro, was taken prisoner and strangled. Gonzalo Pizarro was beheaded by his own countrymen. Another of the brothers, Hernando, returned to Spain, where he was thrown into prison and kept there for many years. Francisco Pizarro himself fell a victim to the resentment of Almagro's soldiers. He was assaulted in his own palace, where he had just finished his dinner when the avengers entered. All his servants and guests except his half-brother, Martinez de Alcantara, instantly fled and abandoned him to his fate. It was midday when the assassins entered the palace with drawn weapons and loudly proclaiming their intention to kill the tyrant. There were upward of a thousand persons in the plaza, but no one opposed them; they merely looked coldly on, saying to each other, 'These men are going to kill the governor.'"

"He deserved it for killing Almagro, didn't he, grandma?" asked Ned.

"He certainly did," replied Grandma Elsie. "But they should, if possible, have given him a trial; everyone has a right to that. It is right that murderers should be put to death, lawfully – for the Bible says, 'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' History tells us it is probable that not more than twenty Spaniards in getting the mastery of the great empire of Peru – one of the largest upon earth – became rich, and in the end they made nothing; all that they gained was ruin – individual and national. Few, if any of them, carried back to their own land any evidences of their success. They dissipated their ill-gotten riches in riotous living, or lost them by unfortunate speculations.

"I must tell you of the fate of another of Pizarro's band – the priest Vincent, or Valverde. He counselled, or consented to, many of the most enormous crimes committed by that monster of cruelty and avarice Pizarro, who, after some years of their association in crime, made him Bishop of Cuzco. In November, 1541, he (Vincent) went with a considerable number of Spaniards, who had served under Pizarro, to the island of Puna, where they were all massacred by the Indians. On that very island, about nine years before, Pizarro had butchered the people, Vincent conniving at the crime. The historian says 'the murderers slandered the Archangel Michael, by pretending that he assisted them in their bloody performance; but no angel interposed when Vincent and his fellow assassins were about to be put to death by the infidels.'"

CHAPTER V

The next day, by Grandma Elsie's invitation, the students of the history of Florida gathered at Ion, and Chester took his turn in relating some of the facts he had come upon in his reading.

"De Soto," he said, "died in June, 1542. Nearly twenty years later – in February, 1562 – two good vessels under command of Captain Jean Ribaut, a French naval officer of experience and repute, were sent out by Admiral Coligny, the chief of the Protestants in France, to establish colonies in unexplored countries where the Protestants would be at liberty to follow the dictates of their consciences without fear of persecution.

"The admiral obtained a patent from Charles IX., armed those two ships, put in them five hundred and fifty veteran soldiers and sailors, besides many young noblemen who embarked as volunteers, and appointed Ribaut as commander.

"They made a prosperous voyage, going directly to the coast of Florida, avoiding the routes in which they were likely to meet Spanish vessels, as the success of their expedition depended upon secrecy.

"On the 30th of April they sighted a cape which Ribaut named François. It is now one of the headlands of Matanzas inlet. The next day he discovered the mouth of a river which he named May, because they entered it on the 1st day of that month, but which is now called the St. Johns. Here they landed and erected a monument of stone with the arms of France engraved upon it. It is said to have been placed upon a little sand hillock in the river. They re-embarked and sailed northward, landing occasionally and finding themselves well received by the many Indians, to whom they made little presents such as looking-glasses and bracelets. They continued to sail northward till they entered the harbor of Port Royal, where they anchored. There they built a small fort upon a little island and called it Fort Charles, in honor of the King of France.

"Ribaut then selected twenty-five men to remain in the fort, and one of his trusted lieutenants, Charles d'Albert, to command them; gave them a supply of ammunition and provisions and left with a parting salute of artillery, replied to from the fort. With that the vessels sailed away for France, from which they had been absent about four months.

"For some time the colony prospered, and made various excursions among the Indians, who received and treated them well. But finally this effort to found a colony proved a failure.

"In 1564 René de Laudonnière was charged with the direction of a new one – this also sent out by Coligny. Three vessels were given him, and Charles IX. made him a present of fifty thousand crowns. He took with him skilful workmen and several young gentlemen who asked permission to go at their own expense. He landed in Florida on the 22d of June, sailed up the River St. Johns, and began the building of a fort which he named Caroline in honor of the king.

"The Indians proved friendly. But soon the young gentlemen who had volunteered to come with him complained of being forced to labor like common workmen, and fearing that they would excite a mutiny, he sent the most turbulent of them back to France on one of his vessels.

"But the trouble increased among the remaining colonists and he sent out part of them under the orders of his lieutenant, to explore the country. A few days later some sailors fled, taking with them the two boats used in procuring provisions; and others, who had left France only with the hope of making their fortunes, seized one of his ships and went cruising in the Gulf of Mexico. Also the deserters had had a bad influence upon the Indians, who now refused to supply the colonists with provisions, and they were soon threatened with famine. I cannot see why they should have been, with abundance of fish in river and sea, and wild game and fruits in the woods," remarked Chester, then went on with his story. "The historians tell us that they lived for some time on acorns and roots, and when at the last extremity were saved by the arrival of Captain John Hawkins, August 3, 1565. He showed them great kindness, furnishing them with provisions and selling to Laudonnière one of his ships in which they might return to France.

"In telling the story of his visit to Florida Hawkins mentions the abundance of tobacco, sorrel, maize, and grapes, and ascribes the failure of the French colony 'to their lack of thrift, as in such a climate and soil, with marvellous store of deer and divers other beasts, all men may live.'

"Laudonnière was waiting for a favorable wind to set sail, when Jean Ribaut arrived with seven vessels carrying supplies and provisions, some emigrants of both sexes, and four hundred soldiers. He told Laudonnière his loyalty was suspected by the French court, and that he had been deprived of the governorship of Florida. That news only made Laudonnière the more eager to go back to France that he might justify himself.

"After landing his troops Ribaut went to explore the country, leaving some of his men to guard the ships. Ribaut's arrival was on the 29th of August. On the 4th of September the French in his vessels sighted a large fleet approaching and asked their object. 'I am Pedro Menendez de Aviles, who has come to hang and behead all Protestants in these regions,' was the haughty reply of the fleet's commander. 'If I find any Catholic he shall be well treated, but every heretic shall die.'

"The French fleet, surprised and not strong enough to cope with the Spaniards, cut their cables and left, and Menendez entered an inlet which he called St. Augustin, and there began to intrench himself.

"Ribaut called together all his forces and resolved to attack the Spaniards, contrary to the advice of Laudonnière and all his officers.

On the 10th of September he embarked for that purpose, but was scarcely at sea when a hurricane dispersed his fleet. Then the Spaniards attacked Fort Caroline.

"Laudonnière was still in the fort, but was sick and had only about a hundred men, scarcely twenty of them capable of bearing arms. The Spaniards took the fort, massacred all the sick, the women and children, and hanged the soldiers who fell into their hands.

"After doing all he could to defend the fort Laudonnière cut his way through the enemy and plunged into the woods, where he found some of his soldiers who had escaped. He said what he could for their encouragement and during the night led them to the seashore, where they found a son of Ribaut with three vessels. On one of these – a small brig – Laudonnière, Jacques Ribaut, and a few others escaped from the Spaniards and carried the news of the disaster to France.

"Laudonnière's purpose had been to rejoin and help Jean Ribaut, but his vessel being driven out to sea, he was unable to carry out that intention.

"Three days after the fort was taken Ribaut's ships were wrecked near Cape Canaveral, and he at once marched in three divisions toward Fort Caroline. When the first division came near the site of the fort they were attacked by the Spaniards, surrendered to Menendez, and were all put to death. A few days later Ribaut arrived with his party, and as Menendez pledged his word that they should be spared, they surrendered and were all murdered, Menendez killing Ribaut with his own hand. Their bodies were hung on the surrounding trees with the inscription, 'Executed, not as Frenchmen, but as Lutherans.'"

"Lutherans?" echoed Ned inquiringly.

"Yes; meaning Protestants," replied Chester. "That was an age of great cruelty. Satan was very busy, and multitudes were called upon to seal their testimony to Christ with their blood.

"But to go on with the story. About two years after a gallant Frenchman – Dominic de Gourgues, by name – got up an expedition to avenge the massacre of his countrymen by the Spaniards at Fort Caroline. He came to Florida with three small vessels and a hundred and eighty-four men, secured the help of the natives, attacked the fort – now called by the Spaniards Fort San Mateo – and captured the entire garrison. Many of the captives were killed by the Indians, the rest De Gourgues hanged upon the trees on which Menendez had hanged the Huguenots, putting over the corpses the inscription, 'I do this, not as to Spaniards, nor as to outcasts, but as to traitors, thieves, and murderers.' His work of revenge accomplished, De Gourgues set sail for France."

"Oh," sighed little Elsie, "what dreadful things people did do in those days! I'm glad I didn't live then instead of now."

"As we all are," responded her mother; "glad for you and for ourselves."

"Yes," said Chester; "and I think I have now come to a suitable stopping place. There seems to me little more in Florida's history that we need recount."

"No," said Grandma Elsie, "it seems to be nothing but a round of building and destroying, fighting and bloodshed, kept up between the Spaniards and the French; the English also taking part; the Indians too, and in later years negroes also. In 1762 the British captured Havana and in the treaty following the next year Great Britain gave Cuba to Spain in exchange for Florida.

"Florida took no part in the Revolutionary War and became a refuge for many loyalists, as it was afterward for fugitive slaves. In 1783 Florida was returned to Spanish rule, Great Britain exchanging it for the Bahamas."

"And when did we get it, grandma?" asked Ned.

"In 1819, by a treaty between our country and Spain."

"Then the fighting stopped, I suppose?"

"No; the Seminole wars followed, lasting from 1835 to 1842. Florida was admitted into the Union in 1845, seceded in 1861, bore her part bravely and well through the Civil War, and at its close a State Convention repealed the ordinance of secession."

"So since that she has been a part of our Union like the rest of our States; hasn't she, grandma?" asked Ned.

"Yes; a part of our own dear country – a large and beautiful State."

"And probably it won't be long now till some of us, at least, will see her," observed Grace with satisfaction.

"How soon will the Dolphin be ready, papa?"

"By the time we are," replied the captain, "which will be as soon as Max can join us."

"Dear Max! I long for the time when he will be with us again," said Violet.

"I suppose by this time he knows how to manage a vessel almost as well as you do, papa?" observed Ned in an inquiring tone.

"I hope so," his father replied with a smile.

"So the passengers may all feel very safe, I suppose," said Mrs.