In Search of Mademoiselle

“The Paracousi Satouriona and Olotoraca are one in all their thoughts. For is it not from him that Olotoraca has learned the signs of the forests and the medicine of his tribe? How shall he change what Satouriona has done? What Satouriona does is good, and shall not be altered.”

“It is wisdom, Olotoraca. For the French are a great people and they love their friends with their whole hearts. At Fort Caroline Monsieur Killigrew and I have fought the Outinas and the Spaniards for Satouriona; and soon our chief with the pale face will revenge the insults and abuses which the Black-beards have put upon you.”

The young brave at the mention of the name of Killigrew had sent his cold glance upon me with startling abruptness as though to pierce me through. For the nonce he was a wild animal of the forest again. Then he looked calmly at De Brésac.

“Keel-ee-gru – the pale giant is called Keel-ee-gru?” He muttered the words half aloud, half to himself and then tossed his head so that the bear-claws rattled about his neck.

“You have heard my name?” I asked.

“The Captain Keel-ee-gru is a friend of the Paracousi Emola. A friend of Emola is a brother of Olotoraca,” he replied easily.

A look passed between the Chevalier and me. There was that in the manner of Olotoraca which we could not understand. But De Brésac had made a quick theory of his own, and acting on it as was his wont, he put his hand upon the muscular shoulder of the young warrior, turning him about and looking him steadily in the eyes.

“We believe in the truth of the things you say, Olotoraca, and for our part we will keep our promises. But you, what have you done for us since we have been away? What will you do for us when we are gone?” The Indian did not look at De Brésac, but straight before him.

“We will keep friendship as we have ever done,” he said evenly, “asking no more than we can give.”

“You have kept friendship with our people?” said the Chevalier craftily, and I saw his drift. “Then you have among you those who escaped from Fort Caroline!”

A great change came suddenly over the face of the young brave. He flashed the eye of a hawk first at the Chevalier and then at me. De Brésac was impassive. I was leaning forward, the query that was vexing my soul hanging upon my tongue. His face lost the boyish look and in a moment became again as it was when he mounted the entering ladder – haughty and immobile.

“There is but one of your race among us,” he said, carelessly, “a youth who calls himself Debré. He is at the village of the Paracousi Satouriona and will be brought hither on the morrow.”

It all happened thus as I have written it. ’Twas but a second of time that his eyelid fluttered at our sudden query as he sought to gain his composure. But in that brief moment there was that which showed us that the personal friendship which this young brave avowed was no friendship at all, but only breath upon his lips and in no manner to be believed. If something had happened to make the Indian distrust us, ’twas no good beginning for our foray. And these doubts must speedily be cleared if success was to attend our undertaking. For my part I was so sure Olotoraca was lying, that I made myself no concern over his denial. A French youth named Debré had escaped and had been cared for. Then why not others? If Satouriona was a friend of the French, then all refugees should be safe in his lodges.

After the Indians had been set ashore again and De Gourgues had been told of the manner of Olotoraca, he stroked his chin gravely.

“You are certain of some deception? H-m! That is strange, for I have found a great frankness in the manner of the Paracousi. But it may be as you say – and we will be upon our guard against him. ’Tis most certain that these Caribs do hate the Spaniards with a mortal hatred and we must show no doubt of them until our mission is accomplished. So I say, do nothing to gain their enmity, even should you believe that friends of yours are in their keeping.”

These were orders and he spoke them firmly. But all night long I strode up and down the deck under the deep vault of starlit sky, trying to hit upon some plan by which I could learn the truth. Why had Olotoraca started at the mention of my name? Emola had spoken it, he said, but my return to Florida should be no cause for alarm or even surprise to him, since in the presence of that chief we three, De Brésac, Goddard and I, had sworn to visit vengeance upon the Spaniards, and Emola knew that we would return as soon as could be. Unless our judgment was at fault there was some matter of common interest between this young Carib prince and me. For the chance perception which had enabled us to pierce the weak spot in his armor had shown that there was something in his mind against me, which in spite of his accustomed immobility he could not hide. What could it mean? The instinct of battle and the desire to measure my strength and skill against any man who looked at me askance, an instinct which has not been taken from me even at this day, rose up strong and I vowed I would have some fair good exercise from this fellow, should he not explain. Perhaps Mademoiselle —

Ah – there was I making mysteries again! Why should I be forever bringing her forward into every uncertainty. At any rate Debré, the boy, would know. If she were among the Indians he could tell me where. Upon his speech, then, hung all my chance of earthly happiness.

Early on the morrow we went ashore and with a ruthless disregard for the orders of De Gourgues I set about trying to find Olotoraca. But since dawn he had been gone with our scouts to reconnoiter the Spanish fort. Satouriona was at the encampment, sending out his runners and receiving messages from the outlying villages. He received us gravely and took us to his lodge, lifting the deerskin at its entrance with a grace and courtliness to excite the envy of a gallant. He gave some orders, and when we were seated and De Brésac asked him who were the French people that had escaped into his hands, he looked at us from the one to the other, saying most frankly.

“We have only one, my brother, and he is but a boy. Because of the love which we bear his people we have kept him safe, though the Spanish have offered us many gifts to return him to the Fort. We love him now for himself, and have made him one of our people. Behold, he is here!”

And turning, we saw a youth of sixteen or thereabouts standing at the entrance of the lodge. For a moment he drew back, awkward and fearful, and would have vanished had not De Brésac called to him in French.

“No. We are no Spaniards, mon cher, but those of your own race. Come then!”

So great was his joy that with a cry he threw himself upon us, clasping and patting our hands for all the world like some dumb animal at the sight of its master. Satouriona, cautioning us with a smile not to do him hurt, wrapped his blanket about him and went out of the lodge down to the beach to meet the boat of De Gourgues, which was reported to have left the Vengeance.

Debré was a slender lad of comely appearance; but neither I nor Brésac remembered to have seen him at Fort Caroline. When his first transports of delight were over and we had told him that our object was to destroy the Fort and to restore fugitives such as he to their kinsmen, he looked at us in dismay, saying of his own accord,

“Alas, messieurs, I am the only one who has been spared.”

That was all I wished to know. I would have arisen and gone forth from the lodge but Brésac looked at me, laying a hand upon my arm.

“Wait,” said he.

Then said the Chevalier to the boy,

“You alone escaped from the Fort. Did you come direct to the Indians of Satouriona?”

“I fell in with a war party of Tacatacourou. They brought me to the chief village of Satouriona.”

“You saw no other persons from the Fort?”

“Oui, monsieur. There were several men who fled through the swamps.”

“But no women?”

“Non, monsieur. Stay – yes, there were two women who fled by the casement before me and whom I saw in the forest.”

“Do you remember them, Pierre?”

“Oui, monsieur – they were ladies who came upon the Trinity with Admiral Ribault. They were noble, I think – though I do not remember the name, – La – La – ”

“La Notte?”

“Yes, that is the name, monsieur. I know it now, because Mademoiselle was very beautiful, and when we landed from the Gloire I asked my mother how she was called.”

“And you saw them no more after that?” We leaned forward breathlessly to get the boy’s reply.

“Monsieur, I was wild with fear,” he said, flushing red in shame. “My mother had been killed before my eyes and two Spaniards had pursued me to the breach in the wall. I fled to the forest, passing these women in my flight. I ran on and on until I dropped exhausted in the thicket.”

“You have not seen them since?”

“In the head village of the Indians?” he asked wide-eyed with surprise. “No, monsieur! They could not have been in the village of Satouriona or I should have known.”

He spoke with an air of conviction which drove away doubt from the mind.

But De Brésac pursued his questions undeterred.

“There is a village called Tacatacourou, is it not so?”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“It is possible that other French persons could have been kept there without your knowledge?”

“Oui, monsieur,” said the boy wondering – “but why should the great Paracousi, who had been so kind, keep me away from the people of my race? I cannot understand.”

“You may know in time, my good Pierre. But there is a mystery which you may help us to solve – only let no word of this come to the ears of the Paracousi.”

“Monsieur,” said Pierre firmly, “Satouriona is my father and if any harm – ”

“Ah, my child, you do not comprehend,” smiled De Brésac. “We are friends of Satouriona and with him we will fight the Spaniards. You must take our word that we mean him no harm.”

“I will, messieurs,” replied the boy at last, sighing.

“It is well, mon ami. You will have no cause for regret,” said De Brésac. “You have been to the village of Tacatacourou?” he continued.

“No, monsieur. It is a day’s journey from the village of Satouriona.”

“Did you not wish to go?”

“Oui, monsieur, but there was no opportunity. The Paracousi Olotoraca feared I should be captured by the Spaniards.”

“Olotoraca!”

“Oui, monsieur. The Paracousi Olotoraca has been a good friend and brother to me.”

“Ah! I understand. He thought that you might be captured again. But why should you fear capture on such a journey? Is not the village of Tacatacourou to the northward of this place, – away from the fort of the Spaniards?”

“I do not fear, monsieur,” replied Debré with dignity; “but if the Paracousi Olotoraca did not wish me with him, it was not possible for me to go.”

“Then he did not desire you to go? That is what I wished to learn,” said De Brésac with a smile. Then after a pause, “Why did Olotoraca go to the village of Tacatacourou? Is he not the nephew of Satouriona? Is not his place by the side of his uncle the great Paracousi?”

“Monsieur, the Paracousi Olotoraca is a great brave and the first young chief in all the country. He looks about him that he may choose a squaw from the most beautiful maidens of the nation. Therefore he goes to Tacatacourou. This is the common report.”

“Then he loves? The women there are beautiful, Pierre?”

“So it is said, monsieur; though having seen none of them, I cannot say. Perhaps that is why he did not wish me to go; or perhaps that is not the reason, – I cannot say. That is all I know, and I pray that no harm may come of the words I have spoken.”

“Never fear, good Pierre. You have done well. Now if it pleases we will go forth to meet the Chevalier de Gourgues. You will tell him what you have told us, and as much more concerning the armament and condition of Fort Mateo as you have been able to learn from the Indians. Will you go too, Killigrew, or will you await us here?”

“I will stay,” said I with a sigh, dropping on a pile of skins.

The Chevalier looked at me sharply.

“Pouf! Have you no instincts – no perceptions? You grow weary at a most purposeful time!”

But I did not reply. Of a truth, I was weary. So many times had I sailed these flights of fancy to have my poor sails torn to shreds and my poor hulk racked bone from bone, that I was for choosing at the last some harbor of refuge where I could find a rest after it all. I had come with my harebrained followers over a thousand leagues of sea, – and for what? For murder? – for destruction? – for a vengeance by fire and sword, as the others had? No. It was not that which had drawn me to these God-forsaken shores – drawn me more surely than ever plummet sought an anchorage. It was the memory of a pair of honest eyes with tear-drops trembling on the lashes, as my lady bade me go and fight her battle for her – a battle which by God’s grace had been deferred until now. True, I wanted the life of De Baçan – that was my own private affair. But what cared I for their wars about religion? There was sin enough in any worship which was not done in the way of peace and good-will and I knew that we as well as the Spaniards would all be most justly condemned for using God’s altar to wipe our sword-blades on. With the discovery that Mademoiselle was not in the village of Satouriona my mind seemed to be weakening, and I had not control over my thoughts. The Chevalier de Brésac with his fine philosophy had solved the matter to his satisfaction, seeing in the actions of Olotoraca at mention of my name a sure sign that for reasons of his own, he held Mademoiselle de la Notte a prisoner. I could not – nay, would not, – bring myself to believe she was at the village of Tacatacourou. A truce to imagining! I had gone too far, and suffered too much, to be inventing new theories to drive me mad. We had voyaged from one end of the earth to the other and had come at last to the place where I had sworn we should find her. And she was not there! That was all. I had had enough. God forgive me! As I lay there in my unreason, I lost all control and cursed all things that came to my tongue, forgetting that it was only through God’s providence that I had been let to live and come to this day.

Not caring what came of me I lay there oblivious, until I presently heard a sound without. I raised my head, a figure darkened the door of the lodge. For a moment, I thought it was Pierre returning. But a moccasined foot was thrust forward, and with a deft and graceful movement the figure dropped the skin at the entrance way and stepped within the lodge. Then I saw that it was an Indian, a girl – the most beautiful of that race I had ever seen.

As I lifted on my elbow I brushed my hand across my eyes, for so quiet was she I thought truly that this dusky vision was some creature of the fancy. With a commanding gesture she approached. I would have spoken; but she placed her finger upon her lips, looking around toward the entrance in token of secrecy. I kept my peace. At last she uttered the one word, Maheera and, touching her breast with a long slender finger, I understood that she was telling me her name. The words, uttered in a quiet tone, seemed to come from her throat rather than from her lips and her voice was very low and sweet. When she had said that, she touched me upon my arm calling me Keel-ee-gru as though my name were some word in the soft language of her own. I marveled that she should know me and could not understand what she wished. But in a moment her object was clearer, for she began to speak in the sign language which these strange people have for conversing with one another when their tongues are unfamiliar. Of this I understood a little. She had several French words, and she moved her lithe young arms and body with wonderful grace, telling me by pointing to her dusty moccasins and simulating weariness that she had come a journey from a great distance to seek me. I nodded my head in comprehension.

Then her face grew sad and her body seemed to melt to nothingness. She clasped her right hand upon her left and laid them both upon her heart, saying the name of Olotoraca. So gentle, soft and lingering was the word upon her tongue and so melancholy her attitude, no language could have told plainer that her heart was hers no more and that a sadness had come upon her. She sighed deeply, looking upon her hands and fingering her silver bracelets. I put my fingers upon the head in pity, for I too knew what heart wounds were.

But at my touch she shrunk away and her mood changed like an April day. The look she flashed up at me was one of pride and majesty, and there was a spark of vengefulness, of wild unreason in it that taught me how concealed and subtle were the channels of her thought. She wanted no pity – none from me at any rate. In a moment she was gentle again, telling me that she had come from the village of Tacatacourou and, with a gesture which I might not mistake, that she was a princess of the blood.

It was not till then, not until she had mentioned the name of her tribe and village, that I even so much as thought upon the object of her visit to me. Then the suspicions of the Chevalier, the association of the names of Olotoraca and Tacatacourou linked her story together in my mind in some fashion. She had come from Tacatacourou! I started up drawing in my breath quickly and looking her in the eyes. What if – if – ?

She saw the note of anxious and expectant inquiry in my look and met it with a smile and sparkling eyes.

“Oui, oui,” she cried in joy. “The Moon-Princess! The Moon-Princess!”

I understood. This was no mill-stone to look through. I remembered the name Satouriona had given to Mademoiselle at Fort Caroline. The darkest hour of my night was past and it was dawn that was breaking.