 1. How the Vikings of old sought and found new lands. In days long, long ago there dwelt in Greenland a king named Eric the Red. He was a man mighty in war, and men held him in high honour. Now one day, to the court of Eric, there came Bjarne, the son of Heriolphe. This Bjarne was a far traveller. He had sailed many times upon the seas, and when he came home he had ever some fresh tale of marvel and adventure to tell. But this time he had a tale to tell more marvellous than any before, for he told how far away across the sea of Greenland, where no man had sailed before, he had found a new, strange land. But when the people asked news of this unknown land Bjarne could tell them little, for he had not set foot upon those far shores. Therefore the people scorned him. Truly you have little hardy-hood, they said, else you had gone ashore and seen for yourself, and had given us good account of this land. But although Bjarne could tell not of the new, strange land, save that he had seen it, the people thought much about it, and there was great talk about voyages and discoveries, and many longed to sail forth and find again the land which Bjarne the traveller had seen. But more than any other in that kingdom, Leif, the son of Eric the Red, longed to find that land. So Leif went to Eric and said, Oh my father, I feign would seek the land which Bjarne the traveller has seen, give me gold that I may buy his ship and sail away upon the seas to find it. Then Eric the Red gave his son gold in great plenty. Go, my son, he said, buy the ship of Bjarne the traveller and sail to the land of which he tells. Then Leif, quickly taking the gold, went to Bjarne and bought his ship. Leif was a tall man of great strength and noble bearing. He was also a man of wisdom, and just in all things, so that men loved and were ready to obey him. Now therefore many men came to him offering to be his companions in adventure until soon they were a company of thirty-five men. They were all men tall and of great strength, with fair golden hair and eyes blue as the sea upon which they loved to sail. Save only Tyrker, the German. Long time this German had lived with Eric the Red and was much beloved by him. Tyrker also loved Leif dearly, for he had known him since he was a child and was indeed his foster father. So he was eager to go with Leif upon this adventurous voyage. Tyrker was very little and plain. His forehead was high, and his eyes small and restless. He wore shabby clothes, and to the blue-eyed, fair-haired giants of the North he seemed indeed a sorry-looking little fellow. But all of that mattered little, for he was a clever craftsman, and Leif and his companions were glad to have him go with them. Then all things being ready Leif went to his father and, bending his knee to him, prayed him to be their leader. But Eric the Red shook his head. "'Nay, my son,' he said, "'I am old and stricken in years, and no more able to endure the hardships of the sea.' "'Yet come, my father,' pleaded Leif, "'for of a certainty, if you do, good luck will go with us.' Then Eric looked longingly at the sea. His heart bade him go out upon it once again ere he died, so he yielded to the prayers of his son, and, mounting upon his horse, he rode towards the ship. When the seafarers saw him come they set up a shout of welcome, but when Eric was not far from the ship the horse upon which he was riding stumbled and he was thrown to the ground. He tried to rise, but could not, for his foot was sorely wounded. Seeing that he cried out sadly, "'It is not for me to discover new lands. Go ye without me.' So Eric the Red returned to his home, and Leif went on his way to his ship with his companions. Now they busied themselves and set their dragon-headed vessel in order, and when all was ready they spread their gaily-coloured sails and sailed out into the unknown sea. Westward and ever-westward they sailed towards the setting of the sun. For many days they sailed, yet they saw no land. Not was about them but the restless tossing waves. But at length one day to their watching eyes there appeared a faint gray line far on the horizon. Then their hearts bounded for joy. They had not sailed in vain, for land was near. "'Surely,' said Leif, as they drew close to it, this is the land which Bjarne saw. Let it not be said of us that we passed it by as he did.' So casting anchor Leif and his companions launched a boat and went ashore. But it was no fair land to which they had come. Far inland great snow-covered mountains rose, and between them and the sea lay flat and barren rock, where no grass or green thing grew. It seemed to Leif and his companions that there was no good thing in this land. "'I will call it Heluland, or Stoneland,' said Leif. Then he and his companions went back to the ship and put out to sea once more. They came to land again after some time, and again they cast anchor and launched a boat and went ashore. This land was flat. Broad stretches of white sand sloped gently to the sea, and behind the level plain was thickly wooded. "'This land,' said Leif, shall also have a name after its nature. So he called it Markland, or Woodland. Then again Leif and his companions returned to the ship, and mounting into it they sailed away upon the sea, and now fierce winds arose, and the ship was driven before the blast, so that for days these seafarers thought no more of finding new lands, but only of the safety of their ship. But at length the wind fell, and the sun shone forth once more. Then again they saw land, and launching their boat they rode ashore. To the eyes of these seafaring men, who for many days had seen only the wild waste of waters, the land seemed passing fair, for the grass was green, and as the sun shone upon it it seemed to sparkle with a thousand diamonds. When the men put their hands upon the grass and touched their mouths with their hands and drank the dew, it seemed to them that never before had they tasted anything so sweet. So pleasant the land seemed to Leif and his companions that they determined to pass the winter there. They therefore drew their ship up the river which flowed into the sea, and cast anchor. Then they carried their hammocks ashore, and set to work to build a house. When the house was finished Leif called his companions together and spoke to them. I will now divide our company into two bands, he said, so that we may explore the country round about. One half shall stay at home, and the other half shall explore the land. But they who go to explore must not go so far away that they cannot return home at night, nor must they separate from each other, lest they be lost. And as Leif said so it was done. Each day a company set out to explore, and sometimes Leif went with the exploring party, and sometimes he stayed at home. But each day as evening came they all returned to their house and told what they had seen. At length, however, one day when those who had gone abroad returned, one of their number was missing, and when the roll was called it was found that it was Tierker the German who had strayed. There at Leif was sorely troubled for he loved his foster father dearly, so he spoke sternly to his men, reproaching them for their carelessness in letting Tierker separate from them, and taking twelve of his men with him he set out at once to search for his foster father. But they had not gone far when, to their great joy, they saw their lost comrade coming towards them. Why art thou so late, O my foster father? cried Leif as he ran to him. Why hast thou gone astray from the others? But Tierker paid little heed to Leif's questions. He was strangely excited, and rolling his eyes wildly he laughed, and spoke in German which no one understood. At length, however, he grew calmer and spoke to them in their own language. I did not go much farther than the others, he said, but I have found something new. I have found vines and grapes. Is that indeed true, my foster father? said Leif. Of a certainty it is true, replied Tierker, for I was born where vines grow freely. This was great news, and all the men were eager to go and see for themselves the vines which Tierker had discovered, but it was already late, so they all returned to the house and waited with what patience they could until morning. Then as soon as it was day Tierker led his companions to the place where he had found the grapes, and when Leif saw them he called the land Vinland because of them. He also decided to load his ship with grapes and wood and depart homeward. So each day the men gathered grapes and felled trees until the ship was full, and they set sail for home. The winds were fair, and with but few adventures they arrived safely at home. There they were received with great rejoicing. Henceforth Leif was called Leif the Lucky, and he lived ever after in great honour and plenty, and the land which he had discovered, men called Vinland the Good. In due time, however, Eric the Red died, and after that Leif the Lucky sailed no more upon the seas, for his father's kingdom was now his, and he must need stay at home to rule his land. But Leif's brother Thorvald greatly desired to go to Vinland so that he might explore the country still further. Then when Leif saw his brother's desire he said to him, If it be thy will, brother, thou mayest go to Vinland in my ship. At that Thorvald rejoiced greatly, and gathering thirty men he set sail, crossed the sea without adventure, and came to the place where Leif had built his house. There he and his company remained during the winter. Then in the spring they set forth to explore the coast. After some time they came upon a fair country where there were many trees. When Thorvald saw it he said, It is so fair a country that I should like to make my home here. Until this time the Norsemen had seen no inhabitants of the land, but now as they returned to their ship they saw three mounds upon the shore. When the Norsemen came near they saw that these three mounds were three canoes, and under each were three men armed with bows and arrows, who lay in wait to slay them. When the Norsemen saw that they divided their company and put themselves in battle array. And after a fierce battle they slew the savages, save one who fled to his canoe and so escaped. When the fight was over the Norsemen climbed upon a high headland and looked round to see if there were signs of any more savages. Below them they saw several mounds which they took to be the houses of the savages, and knew that it behooved them therefore to be on their guard. But they were too weary to go further, and casting themselves down upon the ground where they were they fell into a heavy sleep. Suddenly they were awakened by a great shout, and they seemed to hear a voice cry aloud, Awake, Thorvald, thou and all thy company, if ye would save your lives, flee to thy ship with all thy men, and sail with speed from this land. So Thorvald and his companions fled speedily to their ship, and set it in fighting array. Soon a crowd of dark-skinned savages, uttering fearful yells, rushed upon them. They cast their arrows at the Norsemen, and fought fiercely for some time. But seeing that their arrows availed little against the strangers, and that on the other hand many of their braves were slain, they at last fled. Then the enemy being fled, Thorvald, turning to his men, asked, Are any of you wounded? Nay, they answered, We are all whole. That is well, said Thorvald, as for me I am wounded in the armpit by an arrow. Here is the shaft. Of assurity it will cause my death, and now I counsel you, turn homeward with all speed, but carry me first to that headland which seemed to me to promise so pleasant a dwelling place, and lay me there. Thus it shall be seen that I spoke truth when I wished to abide there. And ye shall place a cross at my feet and another at my head, and call it cross-ness ever after. So Thorvald died. Then his companions buried him as he had bidden them in the land which had seemed to him so fair. And as he had commanded they set a cross at his feet and another at his head, and called the place cross-ness. Thus the first white man was laid to rest in Vinland the good. Then when spring came the Norsemen sailed home to Greenland, and there they told Lath of all the things they had seen and done, and how his brave brother had met his death. Now when Lath's brother Thorstein heard how Thorvald had died he longed to sail to Vinland to bring home his brother's body. So once again Lath's ship was made ready, and with five and twenty tall strongmen Thorstein set forth, working with him his wife Gudrid. But Thorstein never saw Vinland the good, for storms beset his ship, and after being driven hither and thither for many months he lost all reckoning, and at last came to land in Greenland once more. And there Thorstein died, and Gudrid went home to Lath. Now there came to Greenland that summer a man of great wealth named Thorfinn, and when he saw Gudrid he loved her and sought her in marriage, and Lath having his consent to it, Thorfinn and Gudrid were married. At this time many people still talked of the voyages to Vinland, and they urged Thorfinn to journey thither and seek to find out more about these strange lands, and more than all the others Gudrid urged him to go, so at length Thorfinn determined to undertake the voyage. But it came to his mind that he would not merely go to Vinland and return home again, he resolved rather to settle there and make it his home. Thorfinn therefore gathered about sixty men, and those who had wives took also their wives with them, together with their cattle and their household goods. Then Thorfinn asked Lath to give him the house which he had built in Vinland, and Lath replied, I will lend the house to you, but I will not give it. So Thorfinn and Gudrid and all their company sailed out to sea, and without adventures arrived safely at Lath's house in Vinland. There they lived all that winter in great comfort. There was no lack of food either for man or beast, and the cattle they had brought with them roamed at will, and fed upon the wide prairie lands. All winter and spring the Norsemen dwelt in Vinland, and they saw no human being save themselves. Then one day in early summer they saw a great troupe of natives come out of the wood. They were dark and little, and it seemed to the Norsemen very ugly, with great eyes and broad cheeks. The cattle were near, and as the savages appeared the bull began to bellow, and when the savages heard that sound they were afraid and fled. For three whole weeks nothing more was seen of them, after that time however they took courage again and returned. As they approached they made signs to show that they came in peace, and with them they brought huge bales of furs which they wished to barter. The Norsemen, it is true, could not understand the language of the natives, nor could the natives understand the Norsemen, but by signs they made known that they wished to barter their furs for weapons. This however Torfin forbade. Instead he gave them strips of red cloth, which they took very eagerly and bound about their heads. Torfin also commanded his men to take milk to the savages, and when they saw it they were eager to buy and drink it, so that it was said many of them carried away their merchandise in their stomachs. Thus the days and months passed. Then one summer day a little son was born to Torfin and Gudrid. They called him Snorri, and he was the first white child to be born on the continent, which later men called the New World. Thus three years went passed, but the days were not all peaceful, for quarrels arose between the newcomers and the natives, and the savages attacked the Norsemen and killed many of them. Then Torfin said he would no longer stay in Vinland but would return to Greenland, so he and all his company made ready their ship and sailed out upon the seas, and came at length safely to Greenland. Then after a time Torfin sailed to Iceland. There he made his home for the rest of his life, the people holding him in high honour. Snorri also, his son who had been born in Vinland, grew to be a man of great renown. Such are some of the old Norse stories of the first finding of America. The country which Leif called Helaland was most likely Labrador, Markland, Newfoundland, and Vinland, Nova Scotia. Besides these there were many other tales of voyages to Vinland, for after Leif and his brothers many other Vikings of the North sailed, both from Greenland and from Norway, to the fair western lands. Yet although they sailed there so often these old Norsemen had no idea that they had discovered a vast continent. They thought that Vinland was merely an island, and the discovery of it made no stir in Europe. By degrees too the voyages did their ceased. In days of wild warfare at home the Norsemen forgot the fair western land which Leif had discovered. They heard of it only in minstrel tales, and it came to be for them a sort of fairy land which had no existence, save in a poet's dream. But now wise men have read these tales with care, and many have come to believe that they are not mere fairy stories. They have come to believe that hundreds of years before Columbus lived the Vikings of the North sailed the western seas, and found the land which lay beyond the land which we now call America. This country of ours, by H. E. Marshall, Chapter 2. The Sea of Darkness and the Great Faith of Columbus In those far off times besides the Vikings of the North, other daring sailors sailed the seas. But all their sailings took them eastward, for it was from the east that all the trade and the riches came in those days. To India and to far Cathay sailed the merchant through the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean to return with a rich and fragrant cargo of silks and spices, pearls and priceless gems. None thought of sailing westward, for to men of those days the Atlantic Ocean was known as the Outer Sea, or the Sea of Darkness. There was nothing to be gained by venturing upon it, much to be dreaded. It was said that huge and horrible sea dragons lived there, ready to wreck and swallow down any vessel that might venture near. An enormous bird also hovered in the skies, waiting to pounce upon vessels and bear them away to some unknown eerie. Even if any foolhardy adventurers should defy these dangers and escape the horror of the dragons and the bird, other perils threatened them. For far in the west there lay a bottomless pit of seething fire. That was easy of proof. Did not the face of the setting sun glow with the reflected light as it sank in the west? There would be no hope nor rescue for any ship that should be drawn into that awful pit. Again it was believed that the ocean flowed downhill, and that if a ship sailed down too far it would never be able to get back again. These and many other dangers, said the ignorant people of those days, threatened the rash sailors who should attempt to sail upon the Sea of Darkness. So it was not wonderful that for hundreds of years men contented themselves with the well-known routes, which indeed offered adventure enough to satisfy the heart of the most daring. But as time passed these old trade routes fell more and more into the hands of Turks and Infidels. Port after port came under their rule and Infidel pirates swarmed in the Indian Ocean and Mediterranean until no Christian vessel was safe. At every step Christian traders found themselves hampered and hindered and in danger of their lives, and they began to long for another way to the lands of spice and pearls. Then it was that men turned their thoughts to the dread sea of darkness. The less ignorant among them had begun to disbelieve the tales of dragons and fiery pits. The world was round, said wise men. Why then if that were so India could be reached by sailing west, as well as by sailing east? Many men now came to this conclusion, among them an Italian sailor named Christopher Columbus. The more Columbus thought about his plan of sailing west to reach India, the more he believed in it, and the more he longed to set out. But without a great deal of money such an expedition was impossible and Columbus was poor. His only hope was to win the help and friendship of a king or some other great and wealthy person. The Portuguese were in those days a seafaring people, and their ships were to be found wherever ships dared go. Indeed Prince Henry of Portugal did so much to encourage voyages of discovery that he was called Henry the Navigator. And although he was by this time dead, the people still took great interest in voyages of discovery. So at length Columbus determined to go to King John of Portugal and tell him of his plans and ask for his aid. King John listened kindly enough, it seemed, to what Columbus had to say, but before giving him any answer he said that he must consult his wise men. These wise men looked upon the whole idea of sailing to the west to reach the east as absurd, so King John refused to give Columbus any help. Yet although most of King John's wise men thought little of the plan, King John himself thought that there was something in it. But instead of helping Columbus, he meanly resolved to send out an expedition of his own. This he did, and when Columbus heard of it he was so angry that he left Portugal, which for more than ten years he had made his home. He was poor and in debt, so he left the country secretly, in fear of the king and of those to whom he owed money. When Columbus thus fled from Portugal, penniless and in debt, he was a man over forty. He was a bitterly disappointed man, too, but he still clung to his great idea. So he sent his brother Bartholomew to England to beg King Henry VII to help him, while he himself turned towards Spain. Bartholomew, however, reached England in an evil hour for his quest. For Henry VII had but newly rested the crown from Richard III and so had no thought to spare for unknown lands. Christopher also arrived in Spain at an unfortunate time, for the Spaniards were carrying on a fierce warfare against the Moors, and King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella had little thought or money to spare for any other undertaking. Therefore, although Ferdinand listened to what Columbus had to say, for the time being he could promise no help. So years passed. Columbus remained in Spain, for in spite of all his rebuffs and disappointments he did not despair. As the court moved from place to place he followed it, hoping always that the day would come when the King and Queen would listen to him, and believe in his great enterprise. Meanwhile he lived in want and misery, and just kept himself from starvation by making and selling maps. To the common people he seemed a madman, and as he passed through the streets in his worn and threadbare garments, children jeered and pointed fingers of scorn at him. Yet, in spite of mockery and derision, Columbus clung to his faith. Indeed, it burned in him so strongly that at length he made others share it too, and men who were powerful at court became his friends. At last the war with the Moors ended victoriously for Spain. Then these friends persuaded Queen Isabella to listen again to what Columbus had to say. To this the Queen consented, and when she heard how poor Columbus was, she sent him some money, so that he might buy clothes fit to appear at court. When Columbus heard the good news he was overjoyed, as quickly as might be he bought new clothes, and mounting upon a mule he rode towards Granada. But when Columbus arrived he found the court still in the midst of rejoicings to celebrate victory. Among the light-heart had gaily dressed throng there was no one who had a thought to spare for the melancholy white-haired dreamer who passed like a dark shadow amidst them. With his fate, as it were, trembling in the balance, Columbus had no heart for rejoicing, so he looked on with indifference, almost with contempt. But at length his day came. At length all the jubilation was over, and Ferdinand and Isabella turned their thoughts to Columbus. He came before them, and talked so earnestly of his great project that they could not but believe in it. The day was won. Both King and Queen, but more especially the Queen, were willing to help the great enterprise. Now, however, Columbus himself all but wrecked his chances. He had dreamed so long about this splendid adventure, he was so filled with belief in its grandeur, that he demanded conditions such as would hardly have been granted to the greatest prince in the land. Columbus demanded that he should be made admiral and viceroy of all the lands he might discover, and that after his death this honour should descend to his son, and to his son's son for ever and ever. He also demanded a tenth part of all the pearls, precious stones, gold, silver, and spices, or whatever else he might gain by trade or barter. At these demands the grandees of Spain stood aghast. What! this shabby dreamer, this penniless beggar, aspired to honour and dignities fit for a prince? It was absurd, and not to be thought of. If this beggarly sailor would have Spain assist him, he must needs be more humble in suit. But not one jot would Columbus abate of his demands, so the council broke up, and Columbus, with anger and disappointment in his heart, mounted his mule and turned his face towards the court of France. All the seven long years during which he had waited, and hoped and prayed in Spain had been wasted. Now he would go to the King of France, and make his last appeal there. But Columbus had left friends behind him, friends who had begun to picture to themselves almost as vividly as he, the splendours of the conquest he was to make. Now these friends sought out the Queen. In glowing words they painted to her the glory and the honour which would come to Spain if Columbus succeeded. And if he failed, why, what were a few thousand crowns, they asked? And as the Queen listened her heart beat fast, the magnificence of the enterprise took hold upon her, and she resolved that, come what might, Columbus should go forth on his adventure. Ferdinand, however, still looked coldly on. The war against the Moors had been long and bitter. His treasury was empty. Whence, he asked himself, was money forthcoming for this mad scheme? Isabella, however, had done with prudence and caution. If there is not money enough in Aragon, she cried, I will undertake this adventure for my own kingdom of Castile, and if need be I will pawn my jewels to do it. While these things were happening, Columbus, sick at heart, was slowly plodding on the road to France. But he only went a little way on his long journey. For just as he was entering a narrow pass not far from Granada, where the mountains towered above him, he heard the thud of horses' hooves. It was a lonely and silent spot among the hills where robbers lurked, and where many a man had been slain for the money and jewels he carried. Columbus, however, had nothing to dread. He carried with him neither gold nor jewels. He went forth from Spain a beggar, even as he had come. But if fear he had any, it was soon turned to incredulous joy, for when the horsemen came up they told Columbus that his friends had won the day for him, and that he must return. At first Columbus hesitated. He found it hard to believe that truly at last he had his heart's desire. When, however, the messenger told him that the queen herself bad him return, he hesitated no longer. Joyfully turning his mule, he hastened back to Granada. At last Columbus had won his heart's desire, and he had only to gather ships and men and set forth westward, but now a new difficulty arose. For it was out upon the terrible sea of darkness that Columbus wished to sail, and men feared to face its terrors. Week after week went past, and not a ship or a man could Columbus get. He persuaded and implored in vain. No man was brave enough to follow him to the unknown horrors of the sea of darkness. Therefore, as entreaty and persuasion proved of no avail, Columbus sought help from the king, who gave him power to force men to go with him. Even then all sorts of difficulties were thrown in the way. Columbus, however, overcame them all, and at length his three ships were ready. But it had taken many months. It was February, when he turned back so gladly to Granada. It was the third of August before everything was in order. Before dawn upon the day he sailed, Columbus entered the church in the little seafaring town of Palos, where his ships lay at anchor. There he humbly confessed his sins, received the sacrament, and committed himself to God's all-powerful guidance. The crew, wild, rough fellows, many of them, followed his example. Then Columbus stepped on board his ship, the Santa Maria, and turned his face westward. He was filled with exultation, but all Palos was filled with gloom, and upon the shore a great crowd gathered to bid a last farewell to these daring adventurers. And as the ships spread their sails and sped forth in the morning light, the people wept and lamented sorely, for they never thought again to see their loved ones, who were about to adventure forth upon the terrible sea of darkness, and of Chapter 2, read on October 1st, 2007, in Oceanside, California. This Country of Hours, CHAPTER III. This Country of Hours by H. E. Marshall, CHAPTER III. How Columbus fared forth upon the sea of darkness, and came to pleasant lands beyond. At first the voyage upon which Columbus and his daring companions now set forth lay through seas already known, but soon the last landmark was left behind, and the three little vessels, smaller than Rivercraft of to-day, were alone upon the trackless waste of waters. And when the men saw the last trace of land vanish, their hearts sank, and they shed bitter tears, weeping for home, and the loved ones they thought never more to see. On and on they sailed, and as day after day no land appeared, the men grew restless, seeing them thus restless, and lest they should be utterly terrified at being so far from home upon this seemingly endless waste of waters, Columbus determined to keep them from knowing how far they had really gone. So he kept two reckonings. One in which the real length of the ship's daily journey was given he kept to himself, the other in which the journey was given as much shorter he showed to the sailors. A month went past, six weeks went past, and still there was no trace of land. Then at length came signs. Snowbirds which never ventured far to sea flew round the ships. Now the waves bore to them a rudely carved stick, now the ships plowed away through masses of floating weeds. All these signs were at first greeted with joy and hope, and the sailors took heart. But as still the days went past and no land appeared, they lost heart again. The fields of weeds which they had at first greeted with joy now became an added terror. Would they not be caught in this tangle of weeds, they asked, and never more win away out of it? To their fearful and superstitious minds the very breeze which had borne them softly onward became a menace. For if the wind always blew steadily from the east, how was it possible ever to return to Spain? So Columbus was almost glad when a contrary wind blew, for it proved to his trembling sailors that one at least of their fears was groundless. But it made little difference. The men were now utterly given over to gloomy terrors. Fear robbed them of all ambition. Ferdinand and Isabella had promised a large sum of money to the man who should first discover land. But none cared now to win it. All they desired was to turn home once more. Fear made them mutinous also, so they whispered together and planned in secret to rid themselves of Columbus. It would be easy, they thought, to throw him overboard some dark night and then give out that he had fallen into the sea by accident. No one would know. No one in Spain would care for Columbus was after all but a foreigner and an upstart. The Great Ocean would keep the secret. They would be free to turn homeward. Columbus saw their dark looks, heard the murmurs of the crews, and did his best to harden them again. He spoke to them cheerfully, persuading and encouraging, laughing at them while in his heart he wept. Still the men went sullenly about their work, but at length one morning a sudden cry from the pinta shook them from out their sullen thoughts. It was the captain of the pinta who shouted, Land! Land, my lord! he cried. I claim the reward! And when Columbus heard that shout his heart was filled with joy and thankfulness and bearing his head he sank upon his knees, giving praise to God. The crew followed his example. Then their hearts suddenly light and joyous they swarmed up the masts and into the rigging to feast their eyes upon the goodly sight. All day they sailed onward toward the promised land. The sun sank and still all night the ships sped on their joyous way. But when morning dawned the land seemed no nearer than before. Hope died away again, and sorrowfully as the day went on the woeful truth that the fancied land had been but a bank of clouds was forced upon Columbus. Again for days the ships sailed on, and as still no land appeared the men again began to murmur. Then one day when Columbus walked on deck he was met not merely with sullen looks but with angry words. The men clamored to return, and if the admiral refused why so much the worse for him they would endure no longer. Bravely the admiral faced the mutineers. He talked to them cheerfully. He reminded them of what honour and gain would be theirs when they returned home having found the new way to India, of what wealth they might win by trading. Then he ended sternly. Complain how you may, he said. I have to go to the Indies and I will go on till I find them, so help me God. For the time being the admiral's stern brave words cowed the mutineers but not for much longer. Columbus knew right well would they obey him if land did not soon appear, and in his heart he prayed God that it might not be long delayed. The next night Columbus stood alone upon the poop of the Santa Maria. Full of anxious thoughts he gazed out into the darkness. Then suddenly it seemed to him that far in the distance he saw a glimmering light appear and disappear once and again. It was as if someone walking carried a light, but so fearful was Columbus lest his fervent hopes had caused him to imagine this light that he would not trust his own eyes alone. So he called to one of his officers and asked him if he saw any light. Yes, replied the officer, I see a light. Then Columbus called a second man. He could not at first see the light and in any case neither of them thought much of it. Columbus however made sure that land was close and calling the men about him he bade them keep a sharp lookout, promising a silken doublet to the man who should first see land. So till two o'clock in the morning the ships held on their way. Then from the pinta there came again a joyful shout of land, land. This time it proved no vision. It was land indeed and at last the long looked-for goal was reached. The land proved to be an island covered with beautiful trees and as they near the shore the men saw naked savages crowding to the beach. In odd wonder these savages watched the huge white birds as the ships with their great sails seemed to them. Nearer and nearer they came and when they reached the shore and folded their wings the natives fled in terror to the shelter of the forest. But seeing that they were not pursued their curiosity got the better of their fear and returning again they stood in silent astonishment to watch the Spaniards land. First of all came Columbus. Over his glittering steel armor he wore a rich cloak of scarlet and in his hand he bore the royal standard of Spain. Then each at the head of his own ship's crew came the captains of the pinta and the niña, each carrying in his hand a white banner with a green cross and the crowned initials of the king and queen which was the special banner devised for the great adventure. Every man was dressed in his best and the gay colored clothes, the shining armor and fluttering banners made a gorgeous pageant. Upon it the sun shone in splendor and the blue sky was reflected in a blue or sea while scarlet flamingos startled at the approach of the white men rose in brilliant flight. As Columbus landed he fell upon his knees and kissed the ground and with tears of joy running down his cheeks he gave thanks to God the whole company following his example. Then rising again to his feet Columbus drew his sword and solemnly took possession of the island in the name of Ferdinand and Isabella. When the ceremony was over the crew burst forth into shouts of triumph and joy. They crowded round Columbus kneeling before him to kiss his hands and feet praying forgiveness for their insolence and mutiny and promising in the future to obey him without question. For Columbus it was a moment of pure joy and triumph. All his long years of struggle and waiting had come to a glorious end. Yet he knew already that his search was not finished, his triumph not yet complete. He had not reached the eastern shores of India, the land of spice and pearls. He had not even reached Sipango, the rich and golden isle. But he had at least he thought found some outlying island off the coast of India and that India itself could not be far away. He never discovered his mistake so the group of islands nowhere near India but lying between the two great continents of America are known as the West Indies. Columbus called the island upon which he first landed, San Salvador, and for a long time it was thought to be the island which is still called San Salvador or Cat Island. But lately people have come to believe that Columbus first landed upon an island a little further south, now called Watling Island. From San Salvador Columbus sailed about and landed upon several other islands naming them and taking possession of them for Spain. He saw many strange and beautiful fruits, trees of a thousand sorts, straight and tall enough to make masts for the largest ships of Spain. He saw flocks of gaily colored parrots and many other birds that sang most sweetly. He saw fair harbors, so safe and spacious that he thought they might hold all the ships of the world. But of such things Columbus was not in search. He was seeking for gold and jewels and at every place he touched he hoped to find some great eastern potentate robed in splendor and seated upon a golden throne. Instead everywhere he found only naked savages. They were friendly and gentle and what gold they had, but it was little indeed, they willingly bartered for a few glass beads or little tinkling bells. By signs, however, some of these savages made Columbus understand that further south there was a great king who was so wealthy that he ate off dishes of wrought gold. Others told him of a land where the people gathered gold on the beach at night time by the light of torches. Others again told him of a land where gold was so common that the people wore it on their arms and legs and in their ears and noses as ornaments. Others still told of islands where there was more gold than earth, but Columbus saw these lands in vain. In his cruisings Columbus found Cuba and thought at first it must be the island of Sipango, but finding himself mistaken he decided at length that he had landed upon the most easterly point of India. He could not be far, he thought, from the palace of the Grand Khan and choosing out two of his company he sent them as ambassadors to him. But after six days the ambassadors returned, having found no gold, and instead of the Grand Khan having seen only a savage chieftain. These ambassadors found no gold, but had they only known it they found something quite as valuable. For they told how they had met men and women with fire-brands in their hands made of herbs, the end of which they put in their mouths and sucked, blowing forth smoke. And these fire-brands they called tabacos. The Spaniards also discovered that the natives of these islands used for food a root which they dug out of the earth. But they thought nothing of these things, for what were roots and dried herbs to those who came in search of gold and gems and precious spices. So they brought home neither potatoes nor tobacco. So far the three little vessels had kept together, but now the captain of the pinta parted company with the others. Not because of bad weather, says Columbus in his diary, but because he chose, and out of greed, for he thought that the Indians would show him where there was much gold. This desertion grieved Columbus greatly, for he feared that Pinzon might find gold, and sailing home before him, cheat him of all the honour and glory of the quest. But still the Admiral did not give up, but steered his course in the name of God and in search of gold and spices, and to discover land. So from island to island he went seeking gold, and finding everywhere gentle, kindly savages, fair birds and flowers, and stately trees. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Kara Schellenberg. This Country of Hours by H. E. Marshall, Chapter 4. How Columbus Returned in Triumph Christmas Eve came, and the Admiral, being very weary, went below to sleep, leaving a sailor to steer the ship. But this sailor thought he too would like to sleep, so he gave the tiller in charge of a boy. Now throughout the whole voyage the Admiral had forbidden this. Whether it was stormy or calm he had commanded that the helm was never to be entrusted to a boy. This boy knew very little of how to steer a ship, and being caught in a current it was cast upon a sandbank and wrecked. By good luck everyone was saved, and landed upon the island of Haiti. But Columbus had now only one little vessel, and it was not large enough to carry all the company. Many of them, however, were so delighted with the islands that they wanted to stay there, and they had often asked the admirals leave to do so. Columbus therefore now determined to allow some of his men to remain to found a little colony and trade with the Indians, and he trusted in God that when he came back from Spain, as he intended to do, he would find a ton of gold collected by them, and that they would have found a gold mine, and such quantities of spices that the sovereigns would in the space of three years be able to undertake a crusade and conquer the holy sepulcher. So out of the wreck of the Santa Maria, Columbus built a fort, and from the many who begged to be left behind he chose forty-four, appointing one of them Diego de Arana as governor. He called the fort La Navida or the Nativity in memory of the day upon which it was founded. The island itself he called Española or Little Spain. Then on Friday the fourth of January, fourteen ninety-three, the Nina spread her sails and slowly glided away, leaving in that far island amid the unknown seas the first colony of white men ever settled in the west. Two days after Columbus set forth upon his homeward voyage, he fell in again with the pinta. The master had found no gold so he determined to join Columbus once more. He now came on board and tried to make his peace with Columbus, but the admiral received him coldly for he had little faith in his excuses. And now once more together the two little vessels sailed homeward. But soon storms arose. The ships were battered by wind, tossed about hither and thither by waves, and at length separated again. More than once Columbus feared that his tiny vessel would be engulfed in the stormy seas, and the results of his great enterprise never be known. But at length the shores of Portugal were sighted, and on Friday the fifteenth of March, fourteen ninety-three, he landed again at Palos in Spain from whence he had set forth more than seven months before. The people of Palos had hardly hoped to see again those who had sailed away on so desperate an adventure. Now when they saw only one of the three vessels return their joy was mingled with grief. When however they learned that Columbus returned in triumph and that India had been reached, their joy knew no bounds. Shops were closed, bells were rung, and all the people in holiday attire thronged to the harbor, and with shouts and cheers they bore Columbus in triumph to the church, there to give thanks to God for his safe and glorious return. And ere the shouts had died away a second vessel was seen approaching. It was the Pinta, which though parted from the Nina, had also weathered the storms and now come safely to port. At once on landing Columbus had sent a letter to the king and queen telling them of his return. Now he received an answer. It was addressed to Don Christopher Columbus, our admiral of the Ocean Sea, viceroy and governor of the islands discovered in the Indies. It bad him to come at once to court. It told him that a new expedition would immediately be fitted out, so with a heart overflowing with joy and pride Columbus sent forth to Barcelona, where the king and queen then were. The great news of his voyage and discovery had outsped him, and the people of Barcelona received him with every mark of respect and honour. As he passed through the streets, riding on a splendid horse and surrounded by the greatest nobles of Spain, they cheered him again and again. They gazed in wonder also at the dark-skinned savages, the gaily-coloured parrots, and other strange things he had brought with him from out the sea of darkness. Sitting on a throne of state beneath a canopy of cloth of gold, with the young prince of Spain beside them, the king and queen received Columbus. At his approach they rose, and standing they welcomed back to their realm as a mighty prince, he who had gone forth a simple sailor. And as Columbus would have knelt to kiss their hands, they raised him and bet him be seated beside them as an equal. Seldom did the haughty rulers of Spain show such great honour even to the proudest nobles in the land. And so while king and queen and courtiers listened breathlessly, Columbus told of all he had done, of all the marvels he had seen, of the richness and fairness of the lands he had found and claimed for Spain. And when he had finished, the king and queen fell upon their knees, and clasping their hands, they raised eyes filled with tears of joy to heaven, giving thanks to God for his great mercies. The courtiers too fell upon their knees and joined their prayers to those of the king and queen, while overall the triumphant notes of the te deum rang out. So ended the great voyage of Columbus. He had shown the way across the sea of darkness. He had proved that all the stories of its monsters and other dangers were false. But even he had no idea of the greatness of his discovery. He never realised that he had shown the way to a new world. He believed, to the day of his death, that he had indeed found new islands, but that his greatest feet was that of finding a new way to the old world. Yet now being made a noble, he took for his coat of arms a group of golden islands in an azure sea, and for motto the words, To Castile and León, Columbus gave a new world. Now began a time of pomp and splendour for Columbus. He who had gone forth a penniless sailor now rode abroad in gorgeous array. Often he might be seen with the queen on one hand, and John the young prince of Spain on the other. Sometimes even the king himself would ride with him, and seeing him so high in royal favour all the greatest and proudest nobles of the land were eager to make much of him. So they faded him, flattered him, and spread banquets for him. But some were jealous of the great fame of Columbus, and they made light of his discoveries. It is told how, one day at a banquet when everyone talked of these wonderful deeds, one of the guests spoke slightingly of them. It is all very well, he said to Columbus. But in a great country like Spain, where there are such numbers of daring sailors and learned folk besides, many another man might have done the same as you. We should have found the Indies, even if you had not. To this speech Columbus answered nothing, but he asked for an egg to be brought to him. When it was brought he placed it on the table, saying, Sirs, I will lay a wager with any of you that you cannot make this egg stand up without anything at all to support it. One after the other they tried, but no one could do it. At length it came round to Columbus again, and he, taking it in his hand, struck it sharply on the table so that one end was chipped a little, and it stood upright. That, my lord, is my answer, he said, looking at the courtier who had scoffed. And all the company were silent, for they saw he was well answered. Columbus had shown that after a deed is once done it is simple, and everyone knows how to do it. What he had done in sailing across the Sea of Darkness was only wonderful, because no one else had thought of doing it. Portugal was now very jealous of Spain's success, and King Ferdinand of Spain was fearful lest King John of Portugal should seize the new islands which Columbus had discovered. So he appealed to the Pope to settle the matter. And the Pope decided that all new lands discovered west of an imaginary line drawn through the Atlantic Ocean west of the Azores and from pole to pole should belong to Spain. All discoveries east of this line should belong to Portugal. If you will look at a map of the world, you will see that this gave to Spain all the Americas with their islands, except a little bit of Brazil, and to Portugal the whole of Africa. But almost before this matter was settled Columbus had set forth again on another voyage across the Great Ocean, now no longer the Sea of Darkness. This time he had no difficulty in getting a company, for everyone was eager to go with him, even many of the sons of great nobles. This time too the passage was made without any doubts and fears, but with joyful expectations. Columbus had hoped great things of the little colony that he had left behind him, but when he cast anchor one night before the fort his heart sank. All was dark and silent on shore, yet still hoping he ordered two cannon to be fired as signal to the colonists. The cannon boomed through the still warm darkness of the night and slowly the echoes died away, but there was no answer save the sighing of the sea and the scream of the startled birds. From the fort there came no sound or any sign of life, and with sad forebodings the Spaniards waited for the dawn. Then it was seen that the fort was a ruin. It had been burned and sacked. Torn clothing and broken vessels were strewn around, but as the Spaniards wandered sadly among the ruins they found no trace of their companions, save eleven graves with the grass growing above them. At first no natives would come near the white men, for they feared their anger, but at length tempted by the offer of gifts and other friendly signs they came. They told how the Spaniards had quarrelled amongst themselves, how the fort had been attacked by unfriendly Indians from another island, and how all the white men had been slain. Thus ended the first white colony ever planted in western lands. All traces of it have vanished, and upon the spot where La Navida stood there is now a little fishing village called Petit Anze. Columbus founded other colonies, but they succeeded no better than the first one. In all he made four voyages across the Atlantic, and in the third he landed upon the coast of South America, near the mouth of the Orinoco. But Columbus did not know that at last he had discovered the great double continent of America. He thought that he had merely discovered another island, and he named it La Isla Santa. Afterwards he was so delighted at the beauty of the land that he thought he must have found the Garden of Eden, so he became certain that he had landed on the eastern corner of Asia. In 1506 Columbus died, and it is sad to think that he who, by his great faith and great daring, led the way across the Sea of Darkness, and gave a new world to the old, died in poverty and neglect. The men who had wept for joy at the news of his discovery shed no tear over his grave. He died unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Years passed before men recognized what a great man had dwelt among them. Years passed before any monument was raised to his memory. But indeed he had scarce need of any, for as has well been said, the new world is his monument. And every child of the new world must surely honour that monument, and seek never to deface it. End of Chapter 4. Red on October 14, 2007, in Oceanside, California. This country of ours, Chapter 5. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This country of ours, by H. E. Marshall, Chapter 5. How America was named. The new world is his monument. And yet the new world does not bear the name of Columbus. So in this chapter I am going to tell you how America was named. As soon as Columbus had shown the way across the Sea of Darkness, many were eager to follow in his footsteps. There is not a man, he says himself, down to the very tailors who does not beg to be allowed to become a discoverer. Among the many who longed to sail the seas there was a man named Amerigo Vespucci. Like Columbus Amerigo Vespucci was an Italian. He was born in Florence, and there for nearly forty years he lived quietly, earning his living as a clerk in the great merchant house of Medici. But although he was diligent at business, his thoughts were not wholly taken up with it, and in his leisure hours he loved to read books of geography and pour over maps and charts. After a time business took Amerigo to Spain. He was there when Columbus returned from his famous first voyage, and very likely saw him pass through the streets of Barcelona on his day of triumph. Just when Amerigo and Columbus met, we do not know, but very soon we find Amerigo in the service of the merchant who supplied Columbus with food and other necessaries for his second voyage. It has been thought by some that Vespucci went with Columbus on this voyage, but that is not very likely. It was about this time, however, that Vespucci went on his first voyage in which he explored the coast of Venezuela, or of Central America. It is very doubtful which. Before going on this voyage he had been in Spain about four years, and not having succeeded very well as a merchant he decided to give up trading and take to sea life. No voyages perhaps have been more written about and fought over than those of Amerigo Vespucci. Some will have it that he went only two voyages and say he was a braggart and a vanglorious fool if he said he went more. Others think that he went at least four voyages and probably six. And most people are now agreed that these last are right, and that he who gave his name to the great double continent of America was no swaggering pretender but an honest and upright man. In the first two voyages that he made Vespucci sailed under the flag of Spain. In the second two he sailed in the service of the king of Portugal, but after his fourth voyage he returned again to Spain. There he received a large salary and the rank of captain. Later he was made pilot major of Spain and was held in high honor till his death. Yet in all the voyages Vespucci went, whether under the flag of Portugal or of Spain, he was never leader. He went as astronomer or as pilot while other men captained the expeditions. It is from Amerigo's letters alone that we gather the little we know about his voyages, for although he says in one of his letters that he has written a book called The Four Voyages it has never been found and perhaps was never published. One long letter, however, which he wrote to an old school fellow was so interesting that it was published and read by many people all over Europe. It was, says an old English writer, abroad in every man's hands. Amerigo's voyages led him chiefly to Central and South America, and he became convinced that South America was a continent. So soon, what with the voyages of Vespucci and the voyages of other great men, it became at last quite certain that there was a vast continent beyond the Atlantic Ocean. Mapmakers therefore began to draw a huge island large enough to form in itself a continent south of the equator. They called it the New World or the Land of the Holy Cross, but the Northern continent was still represented on the maps by a few small islands or as a part of Asia. Thus years passed. Daring sailors still sailed the stormy seas in search of new lands, and learned men read the tales of their adventures and wrote new books of geography. Then one day a professor who taught geography at the monastery of Sandi in Alsace published a little book on geography. In it he spoke of Europe, Asia, and Africa, the three parts of the world as known to the ancients. Then he spoke of the fourth part, which had been discovered by Amerigo Vespucci, by which he meant what we now call South America, and, continues this professor, I do not see what is rightly to hinder us calling this part Amerige or America, that is, the Land of Amerikus, after its discoverer, Amerikus. This is the first time the word America was ever used, and little did this old German professor, writing in his quiet Alsatian college, think that he was christening the great double continent of the New World. And as little did Amerigo think in writing his letter to his old school fellow that he was to be looked upon as the discoverer of the New World. At first the new name came slowly into use, and it appears for the first time on a map, made about 1514. In this map America is shown as a great island continent, lying chiefly South of the equator. All the voyages which Columbus had made had been North of the equator. No man yet connected the land South of the equator with him, and it was at first only to this South land that the name America was given. Thirty years and more went by. Many voyages were made, and it became known for certain that Columbus had not reached the shores of India by sailing west, and that a great continent barred the way, North as well as South of the equator. Then a famous map maker gave the name of America to both continents. But many Spaniards were jealous for the fame of Columbus, and they thought that the northern continent should be called Colonia, or Colombiana. One anxious that the part in the discovery taken by Ferdinand and Isabella should not be forgotten, even tried to make people call it Ferizabellica. But all such efforts were in vain. America sounded well, people liked it, and soon everyone used it. Americao Vespucci himself had nothing to do with the choice, and yet because others gave his name to the New World, many hard things have been said of him. He has been called in scorn a landlubber, a beef and biscuit contractor, and other contemptuous names. Even one of the greatest American writers has poured scorn on him. Strange, he says, that broad America must wear the name of a thief. Americao Vespucci, the pickle dealer of Seville, whose highest naval rank was a Boson's mate in an expedition that never sailed, managed in this lying world to supplant Columbus, and baptize half the earth in his own dishonest name. But it was the people of his day, and not Vespucci, who brought the new name into use. Vespucci himself had never any intention of being a thief, or of robbing Columbus of his glory. He and Columbus had always been friends, and little more than a year before he died, Columbus wrote a letter to his son Diego, which Vespucci delivered. In this letter Columbus says, Americao Vespucci, the bearer of this letter, has always been wishful to please me. He is a very honest man. He is very anxious to do something for me, if it is in his power. It was only accident which gave the name of America to the New World, and perhaps also the ingratitude of the great leader's own generation. Later generations, however, have not been so unmindful of Columbus and his deeds. Americans have not allowed his great name to be wholly forgotten. The district in which the capital of the United States is situated is called Columbia. In Canada, too, there is the great province of British Columbia, and in South America, the United States of Columbia, besides many towns all named in honor of the great discoverer. Christopher Columbus showed the way across the sea of darkness. Americao Vespucci gave his name to the great double continent, but it was another Italian, John Cabot, who first landed on the continent of North America. Like Columbus, Cabot was born in Genoa, when, however, he left his own land, he did not go to Spain like Columbus, but to England. He had been living in England for some years when the news of the first great voyage of Columbus was brought there. Soon everyone was talking about the wonderful discovery from the king and his court downward. Cabot was a trader and a daring sailor, well used to sailing on the stormy seas, yet even he was awed by what Columbus had done. To find that way never known before, and by sailing west to reach the east, where the spices grow, seemed to him a thing more divine than human, and he too longed to follow Columbus and maybe discover new lands. King Henry VII was eager to claim new lands, as the kings of Spain and Portugal were doing, so he listened to the persuasions of John Cabot. And in spite of the pope, who had divided all the undiscovered world between the kings of Spain and Portugal, gave him leave to sail forth to the seas of the east and west and north, and to plant the banner of England upon any islands, countries, or regions belonging to heathens or infidels which he might discover. He bade his well-beloved John Cabot take five ships and set forth on the adventure, at his own proper costs and charges, for Henry was a king wise but not lavish, and although he wanted England to have the glory of new discoveries, he was not eager to spend his gold on them. But where could a poor sailor find money enough for so great an adventure? So a year went past, and although Cabot had the kings leave to go, he did not set out, but he did not let the king forget. And at length, close-fisted Henry listened to the busy request and supplication of the eager sailor, and consented to fit out one small ship. So at five o'clock one sweet May morning a frail little vessel called the Matthew, with a crew of but eighteen men sailed out from Bristol Harbour. Many people came to see the vessel sail, for they were nearly all Bristol men who were thus venturing forth on the unknown deep, and their friends crowded to the harbour to wish them God's speed. It was a great occasion for Bristol, and indeed for all England, for it was the first voyage of discovery with which the English king and people had to do. So the tiny white sail ship put out to sea, followed by the prayers and wishes of those left behind. With tear-dimmed eyes they watched it till it faded from view. Then they turned homewards to pray for the return of their loved ones. Round the coast of Ireland the vessel sped, but at last its green shores faded from sight, and the little company of eighteen brave men were alone upon the trackless waves. Westward and ever westward they sailed, over the hazy distance, beyond the sun-set's rim. Week after week went by, six weeks, and then seven, and still no land appeared. Those were days of anxiety and gloom, but still the hope of the golden west lured Cabot on, and at length one day in June he heard the glad cry of LAND, LAND! So, on St. John's Day, in 1497, John Cabot landed somewhere on the coast of America. He called the land Prima Tierra Vista, or First Land Seen, and because of the day upon which it was found he called an island near to it, St. John's Isle. We cannot tell exactly where Cabot cast anchor. It may have been at Cape Breton, or somewhere on the coast of Labrador, but wherever it was that he landed he there set up a great cross, and unfurled the flag of England, claiming the land for King Henry. When Cabot set out he was full of the ideas of Columbus. He had hoped to find himself on the coast of Asia, and in the land of gold and spices. Now he knew himself mistaken. He did not see any natives, but he knew the land was inhabited, for he found notched trees, snares for wild animals, and other signs of habitation which he took home. He had found no gold in cities. He had had speech with no stately potentate. Yet he was not utterly disappointed. For the country he had found seemed to him fair and fertile, and the quantities of fish which swarmed in the seas amazed both himself and his men. They had no need of lines, or even of nets. They had but to let down a basket weighted with a stone, and draw it up again to have all the fish they wanted. Cabot stayed but a short time in the newfound land. He would feign have stayed longer and explored further, but he feared lest his provisions would give out, and so regretfully he turned homeward. Great was the excitement in Bristol when the tiny ship came to anchor there once more, little more than three months after it had sailed away, and so strange were the tales Master Cabot had to tell that the folk of Bristol would hardly have believed him, for he was a poor man and a foreigner, had not his crew of honest Bristol men vouched for the truth of all he said. Everyone was delighted, even thrifty King Henry was so much pleased that he gave Cabot ten pounds. It seems a small enough sum for one who had found a new aisle, but we must remember that it was worth more than a hundred pounds would be worth today. Cabot at any rate founded enough with which to buy a suit of silk, and dressed in this new splendour he walked about the streets of Bristol, followed by gaping crowds. He was now called the Great Admiral, and much honour was paid to him. Everyone was eager to talk with him, eager to go with him on his next voyage, and that even although they knew that many of the crew would be thieves and evildoers. For the King had promised to give Cabot for sailors all prisoners, except those who were confined for high treason. We know little more of John Cabot. Later King Henry gave him a pension of twenty pounds a year. It seems likely that the following year he set out again across the broad Atlantic, taking his sons with him. The rest is silence. How John Cabot ended his life, where he lies taking his rest we do not know. He sleeps somewhere in sod unknown, without a slab, without a stone. We remember him chiefly because he was the first to lead Englishmen across the Atlantic, the first to plant the flag of England upon the continent of North America, which, in days to come, was to be the home of two great English-speaking peoples. This country of ours, by H. E. Marshall, Chapter 7. How the flag of France was planted in Florida. As years went on many voyages of discovery and exploration were made to the New World by both the Spaniards and the Portuguese, but chiefly by the Spaniards. America was the land of golden hopes, the land of splendid adventure, and the haughty nights of Spain, thirsting for gold and for fame, were lured thither. They sought the fabled seven cities of gold, they sought the fountain of eternal youth. Through the dark, pathless forests, across the wide prairies they flashed in glittering array, awaking the vast silences with the clash of arms. They came in all the pomp and splendour of warfare, they brought also the cross of Christ, threatening the heathen with death if they did not bow to him and be baptized, and it seemed for a time as if they, and they only, would possess the vast continent. But expedition after expedition ended in disaster. The Spaniards found neither the far-famed seven cities nor the fountain of youth, and the red men, instead of accepting their religion, hated them and it with a deep hatred. But the Spaniards were not long left in undisputed possession of America. The French king, too, desired to have new lands across the seas, and he saw no reason why Spain and Portugal should divide the new world between them. I would fain see Father Adam's will, he said, in which he made you the sole heirs to so vast an inheritance. Until I do see that, I shall seize as mine whatever my good ships may find upon the ocean. From France, therefore, daring men sailed forth to the new world, and there they set up the arms of their country, claiming broad lands for their king. And now came the time when all Christian lands were torn asunder by religious strife. The Reformation had begun, and everywhere there was discord between the people who followed the old religion and those who followed the new. In France, those who followed the new religion were called Huguenots. They were often hardly used, and were denied freedom to worship God in their own way. Many of them therefore longed to get away from France and go to some new country where they would have the freedom they desired. So a few grave stern men gathered together and determined to set out for some place in the new world where they might make a home. Then one February day in 1562, two little ships sailed away from France. Westward they sailed until about two and a half months later they landed in what is now Florida. It was May day, the sun shone, and all the world seemed gay and green, and these Protestant adventurers thought they had never seen so fair a land. It was, they said, the fairest, fruitfulest, and pleasantest of all the world, abounding in honey, venison, and wildfowl. The natives were friendly, and told the newcomers by signs that the seven golden cities were not far off. That rejoiced their hearts, for even those stern old Huguenots were not above following the quest for gold. Here then in this far off land the Huguenots set up a stone pillar carved with the arms of the King of France, and kneeling round it they gave thanks to God for having brought them to so fair a country. Then returning to their ships they sailed northward along the coast, for they had not come to settle but merely to explore and find out a good spot on which to found a colony. But the land seemed so fair, the air so balmy, that they were ready to settle there at once and never return to France. At length after inspecting several places the adventurers reached a spot not far from what is now Beaufort in South Carolina. Here they landed, and knowing that many of the men were already eager to remain in this beautiful country, Jean-Ribaud, their leader, resolved to found a colony. So he called them all together, and, speaking wise and brave words to them, asked who among them would remain. Declare your minds freely unto me, he said, and remember that if you decide to remain you will forever be famous, and be known as the first white men who inhabited this land. Ribaud had scarcely finished speaking when nearly all the men replied with a shout. We ask nothing better than to remain in this beautiful country. Indeed so many were anxious to remain that Ribaud had enough to do to persuade a sufficient number to man the ships to return with him. In the end thirty men were chosen to remain. At once they set about building a fort, which they called Charles Fort, in honor of the boy king Charles IX, who was then upon the throne. The men worked so well that in a very few days the fort was so far finished that it was fit to live in. Food and ammunition were brought from the ships, and a man named Albert de la Pieria was chosen as governor. Then for the last time Ribaud gathered all the men together and took leave of those to be left behind. Captain Albert, he said, I have to ask you in the presence of all these men to quit yourself so wisely in your charge that I shall be able to commend you to your king. And you, he said, turning to the soldiers, I beg you to esteem Captain Albert as if he were myself, and to yield to him that obedience that a true soldier owes to his general and captain. I pray you live as brethren together without discord, and in so doing God will assist you and bless your enterprises. Then farewells were said, and Ribaud sailed away, leaving the thirty white men alone in the wilderness. From north to south, from east to west, in all the vast continent, there were no white men save themselves. The little company was made up of young nobles, sailors, merchants, and artisans. There were no farmers or peasants among them, and when they had finished their fort, none of them thought of clearing the land and sowing corn. There was no need, Ribaud would soon return, they thought, bringing with him all they required. So they made friends with the Indians and roamed the forest wilds, in search of gold and of adventures, without care for the future. But the days and weeks passed, and Ribaud did not return, for when he arrived home he found that France was torn with civil war, and that it was impossible to get ships fitted out to sail to America. Soon the little colony began to feel the pangs of hunger. Daily they scanned the pitiless blue sea for a glimpse of Ribaud's returning sail. No sail appeared, and daily their supplies dwindled away. Had it not been for the friendly red men they might all have perished, for the Indians were generous, and as long as they had food themselves, they shared it with their white friends. But at length they could spare no more. Indeed they had already given the pale faces so much food that they themselves, they said, would be forced to roam the woods in search of roots and herbs to keep them from starving until harvest was ripe. They told the Frenchmen, however, of two rich and powerful chiefs, who held sway over land which lay to the south, where they might obtain endless supplies of corn and vegetables. This was indeed good news to the Frenchmen, and guided by their Indian friends they lost no time in setting out to beg food from those dusky potentates. When the Frenchmen reached the wigwams of one of these chiefs, they were received with great honour. They found that their red-skinned friends had spoken truly. Here there was food in abundance, and after a great feast they returned joyfully to the fort, carrying with them a great supply of corn and beans and, what was still better, a promise from the friendly chief that he would give them more food whenever they had need of it. Once more the colonists rejoiced in plenty, but not for long. For the very night they arrived home, their storehouse took fire, and all the food which they had brought with such joy was destroyed. Again, Frenchmen stared them in the face. In their plight they once more appealed to the savage chief who supplied their wants as generously as before, promising them that as long as his meal should last they should never want. So for the time being the colonists were saved from starvation. But another danger now threatened them, for quarrels arose among the men. Albert de Pierre, who had been set over them as captain, proved to be cruel and despotic. He oppressed the men in many ways, hanging and imprisoning at will those who displeased him. Soon the men began to murmur under his tyranny. Black looks greeted Albert de Pierre. He answered them with blacker deeds. At length one day for some misdeed he banished a soldier to a lonely island and left him there to die of hunger. This was more than the colonists could well bear. Their smoldering anger burst forth, and seizing the tyrant they put him to death. Then they chose one of their number called Nicolas Barre to be their captain. They were rid of their tyrant, and that brought peace for a time to the little colony, but the men had grown to hate the place. The land which had once seemed to them so fair now seemed no better than a prison, and they longed to escape from it. They had, however, no ship, and although all around them tall trees grew, no one of them knew anything of shipbuilding. Still so strong was their desire to leave the hated spot that they resolved to build one. They set to work with a will. Soon the sound of saw and hammer awoke the silence of the forest. High and low, noble and peasant, all worked together, the Indians even lending a hand. At length their labours were over, and the rough little ship was afloat. It made but a sorry appearance. The planks were rough hewn by the hatchet, and caulked with the moss which grew in long streamers on the trees. The cordage was Indian-made, and the sails were patched together from shirts and bedclothes. Never before had men thought to dare the ocean waves in so crazy a craft, but the colonists were in such eagerness to be gone that they chose rather to risk almost certain death upon the ocean than remain longer in their vast prison-house. So they loaded the ship with as much food as they could collect, and, saying farewell to their Indian friends, they spread their patchwork sails, and glided out to sea, drunken with joy at the thought of returning to France. At first the wind blew fair, and the little ship sped gaily homeward, then came a calm. The sun burned overhead. No faintest breeze stirred the slack sails, and the ship lay as if at anchor upon the glassy waters. And as the ship lay motionless, the slender stock of food grew less and less. Soon there was nothing left but maize, and little of that. At first a tiny handful was each man's daily portion. Then it was counted by grains. But jealously hoarded although it was, the maize at length gave out, and there was nothing left to eat but their leather shoes and jerkins. Then to the pain of hunger was added the pain of thirst, for the water barrels were empty to the last drop. Unable to endure the torture some drank the sea water, and so died in madness. Beneath the burning sun every timber of the crazy little ship warped and started, and on all sides the sea flowed in. Still through all their agony the men clung to life, and sick with hunger, maddened with thirst as they were, they labored unceasingly, bailing out the water. But they labored now with despair in their hearts, and they gave up hope of ever seeing their beloved France again. Then at length the pitiless sun was overcast, a wild wind arose, and the glassy sea, whipped to fury, became a waste of foam and angry billows. The tiny vessel was tossed about helplessly, and buffeted this way and that. In the turning of a hand, says an old writer, the waves filled their vessel half full of water, and bruised it upon one side. The wretched men now gave themselves up for lost, they cared no longer to bail, but cast themselves down into the bottom of the boat, and let it drift where it would. Only one man among them did not utterly lose heart. He set himself now to encourage the others, telling them that if only the wind held, in three days they would see the shores of France. This man was so full of hope that at length he aroused the others from their despair. Once more they began the weary work of bailing, and in spite of all the fury of the wind and waves, the little vessel kept afloat. At last the storm passed. Once more the fainting wanderers righted their vessel, and turned the prow towards the shores of France. But three days passed, and no land was seen, and they became more despairing than before. For now the last grain of corn was eaten, the last drop of water drunk. Mad with thirst, sick with hunger, the men strained their weary eyes over the rolling waste of waters. No land was in sight. Then a terrible thought crept into one mind after another. In a low horse whisper, one man and then another spoke out his thought, that one man should die for his fellows. So deep were they sunk in woe that all were of one mind, so lots were cast, and that the man upon whom the lot fell was killed. These tortured wayfarers had become cannibals. Kept alive in this terrible fashion the men sailed on, and at length a faint gray streak appeared on the horizon. It was the long looked-for shore of France, but the joy was too great for their overstrained minds. The sight of land seemed to rob them of all power of thought or action. With salvation in sight they let the little vessel drift aimlessly this way and that. While they thus drifted aimlessly a white sail hove in sight, and an English vessel bore down upon them. In the English vessel there happened to be a Frenchman who had sailed with Ribaud on his first voyage to Florida. He soon recognized his countrymen in spite of their sorry plight, and they were brought aboard the English vessel, and when they had been given food and drink, and were somewhat revived, they told their tale of misery. The Englishmen were in doubt for some time as to what it was best to do. In the end they decided to set the most feeble on the shores of France, and to carry the others, prisoners, to the Queen of England, who at that time was about to send an expedition to Florida. So ended the first attempt of the French to found a colony in North America. End of Chapter 7 Read on October 19, 2007, in Oceanside, California. This country of ours, Chapter 8 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, this reading by Kara Schellenberg. This country of ours, Chapter 8 How the French Founded a Colony in Florida Two years after Ribaud's ill-fated expedition, another company of Frenchmen set sail for America. This time René de la Donnière was captain. He had been with Ribaud two years before, and now again he landed on the same spot where Ribaud had first landed, and set up the arms of France. As they saw his ship come, the Indians ran down to the beach, welcoming him with cries of excitement and joy, and, taking him by the hand, the chief led him to the pillar which Jean Ribaud had set up. It was wreathed in flowers, and baskets of corn stood before it. For the Indians looked upon it as an idol, and made offerings to it. They kissed it with a great show of reverence, and begged the Frenchmen to do the same. Which we would not deny them, says La Donnière, who himself tells the story. To the end we might draw them to be more in friendship with us. La Donnière was so delighted with the native's friendly greeting that he resolved to found his colony among these kindly Indians. So a little way up the river which Ribaud had named the River of May, but which is now the St. John's, he built a fort. It was late one evening in June when the Frenchmen reached the spot where they intended to build the fort. Weiried with their long march through the forest, they lay down upon the ground, and were soon fast asleep. But at daybreak La Donnière was a stir. He commanded a trumpet to be sounded, and when all the men were aroused and stood together, he bade them give thanks to God for their safe arrival. So, standing beneath the waving palms, with the deep blue sky arching overhead, the men sang a psalm of thanksgiving and praise, then kneeling they prayed long and earnestly. The prayer ended. The men arose, and full of happy courage turned to their work. Everyone took part with right goodwill. Some brought earth, some cut logs. There was not a man who had not a shovel or hatchet or some tool in his hand. The work went on merrily, and soon above the banks of the river the fort rose, secure and strong, fenced, and entrenched on every side. In honor of their King Charles, these new colonists called their fort Caroline, just as Rubau had called his Charles Fort. But as the native chief Saturiona watched the fort grow, he began to be uneasy. He wondered what these pale-faced strangers were about, and he feared lest they should mean evil towards him. So he gathered his warriors together, and one day the Frenchmen looked up from their labours to see the heights above them thick with savages in their war paint. At once the Frenchmen dropped their tools and prepared to defend themselves, but Saturiona, making signs of peace, and leaving most of his warriors behind him, came down into the camp followed by a band of twenty musicians, who blew ear-piercing blasts upon discordant pipes. Having reached the camp, Saturiona squatted on his haunches, showing that he wanted to take counsel with the Frenchmen. Then with many signs and gestures he told the Frenchmen that his great enemies, the Themagos, were near, and that if the Frenchmen wished to continue in friendship with him, they must promise to help him against these powerful and hated foes. Laudanière feared to lose Saturiona's friendship, and thereupon with signs, helped out now and again with a word or two, a treaty was made between the Indians and the Frenchmen, Laudanière promising to help Saturiona against his enemies, the Themagos. With this treaty Saturiona was delighted, and he commanded his warriors to help the Frenchmen in building their fort, which they very readily did. Then, mindful of his promise, as soon as the fort was finished, Laudanière sent off some of his followers under one of his officers to find out who the Themagos really were, of whom Saturiona spoke with such hate. Guided by some Indians, this officer soon came upon the Themagos, but instead of fighting with them he made friends with them, which greatly disgusted his Indian guides. Meanwhile Saturiona, delighted at the idea of being able to crush his enemies with the Frenchmen's help, had gathered all his braves together and made ready for war. Ten chiefs and five hundred warriors, fearful in war paint and feathers, gathered at the call. Then seeing that Laudanière was not making any preparations for war, he sent messengers to him. Our chief has sent us, they said, and he would know whether you will stand by your promise to show yourself a friend of his friends, an enemy of his enemies, and go with him to war. Tell your chief, reply Laudanière, that I am not willing to purchase his friendship with the enmity of another. Notwithstanding I will go with him, but first I must gather food for my garrison, neither are my ships ready. An enterprise such as this needs time. Let your chief abide two months, then if he hold himself ready I will fulfill my promise to him. The Indian carried this answer to the chief, who, when he heard it, was filled with wrath. He was not, however, to be stayed from war, and he determined to go alone. With great ceremony he prepared to set out. In an open space near the river a huge fire was lit. In a wide circle round this the warriors gathered. Their faces were fearful with paint, and their hair was decorated with feathers, or the heads of wolves and bears and other fierce animals. Beside the fire was placed a large bowl of water, and near it Satoriona stood erect, while his braves squatted at his feet. Standing thus he turned his face, distorted with wrath and hatred towards the enemy's country. First he muttered to himself, then he cried aloud to his god the sun, and when he had done this for half an hour he put his hand into the bowl of water and sprinkled the heads of his braves. Then suddenly as if in anger he cast the rest of the water into the fire, putting it out. As he did so he cried aloud. So may the blood of our enemies be poured out, and their lives extinguished. In reply a hoarse yell went up from the savage host, and all the woods resounded with the fiendish noise. Thus Satoriona and his braves set forth for battle. In a few days they returned, singing praises to the sun, and bringing with them twenty-four prisoners, and many scalps. And now Loudounier made Satoriona more angry than ever with him, for he demanded two of these prisoners. Loudounier wanted them so that he might send them back to the chief of the Thimagos as a proof that he at least was still friendly, for he already regretted his unwise treaty. But when Satoriona heard Loudounier's request he was very angry, and treated it with scorn. Tell your chief, he said, that he has broken his oath, and I will not give him any of my prisoners. When Loudounier heard this answer he in his turn was very angry, and he resolved to frighten Satoriona into obeying him. So taking twenty soldiers with him he went to the chief's village. Leaving some of the soldiers at the gate, and charging them to let no Indians go in or out, he went into Satoriona's hut with the others. In perfect silence he came in. In perfect silence he sat down, and remained so for a long time, which, says Loudounier, put the chief deeply in the dumps. At length, when he thought that Satoriona was completely frightened, Loudounier spoke. Where are your prisoners, he said? I command them to be brought before me. Thereupon the chief, angry at the heart, and astonished wonderfully, stood for a long time without making any answer. But when at last he spoke it was boldly and without fear. I cannot give you my prisoners, he said, for seeing you coming in such warlike guise they were afraid, and fled to the woods, and not knowing what way they went we could not by any means find them again. Loudounier, however, pretended that he did not understand what the chief said, and again he asked for the prisoners. The chief then commanded his son to go in search of them, and in about an hour he returned, bringing them with him. As soon as they were brought before Loudounier the prisoners greeted him humbly. They lifted up their hands to heaven and then threw themselves at his feet, but Loudounier raised them at once and led them away to the fort, leaving Satoriona very angry. Loudounier now sent the prisoners back to the Thimago's chief, who was greatly delighted at the return of his braves. He was still more delighted when the Frenchmen marched with him against another tribe, who were his enemies, and defeated them. But while Loudounier was thus making both friends and enemies among the Indians, all was not peace in the colony itself. Many of the adventurers had grown tired of the loneliness and sameness of the life. The food was bad, the work was hard, and there seemed little hope that things would ever be better. And for all their hardships it seemed to them the governor was to blame, so they began to murmur and be discontented, gathering together in groups, whispering that it would be a good deed to put an end to Loudounier and choose another captain. And now, when the discontent was at its height, Loudounier fell ill. Then one of the ring-leaders of the discontent urged the doctor to put poison in his medicine, but the doctor refused. Next they formed a plot to hide a barrel of gunpowder under his bed and blow him up, but Loudounier discovered that plot, and the ring-leader fled to the forest. About this time a ship arrived from France, bringing food for the colony, so that for a time things went a little better. And when the ship sailed again for home, Loudounier sent the worst of the mutineers back in it. In their place the captain left behind some of his sailors, but this proved bad exchange, for these sailors were little better than pirates, and very soon they became the ring-leaders in revolt. They persuaded some of the older colonists to join them, and one day they stole a little ship belonging to the colony, and set off on a plundering expedition to the West Indies. On the seas they led a wild and lawless life, taking and plundering Spanish ships, but after a time they ran short of food and found themselves forced to put into a Spanish port. Here in order to make peace with the Spaniards they told all they knew about the French colony. Thus it was that for the first time the Spaniards learned that the heretic Frenchmen had settled in their land, and speedily the news was sent home to Spain. Meanwhile Loudounier was greatly grieved for the loss of his ship, and as days passed, and there was no sign of the mutineers return, he set his men to work to build two new ships. For a time the work went well, but soon many of the men grew tired of it, and they began to grumble. Why should men of noble birth? they asked. Slave like carpenters! And day by day the discontent increased. At last one Sunday morning the men sent a message to Loudounier, asking him to come out to the parade ground to meet them. Loudounier went, and he found all the colony waiting for him with gloomy faces. At once one of them stepped forward, and asked to leave to read a paper in the name of all the others. Loudounier gave permission. The paper was read. It was full of complaints about the hard work, the want of food, and other grievances. It ended with a request that the men should be allowed to take the two ships which were being built, and sail to Spanish possessions in search of food. In fact they wanted to become pirates, like those mutineers who had already sailed away. Loudounier refused to listen to this request, but he promised that as soon as the two ships were finished they should be allowed to set out in search of gold mines. The mutineers separated with gloomy faces. They were by no means satisfied with Loudounier's answer, and the discontent was as deep as ever. Loudounier now again became very ill, and the malcontents had it all their own way. Soon nearly every one in the fort was on their side, and they resolved to put an end to Loudounier's tyranny. Late one night about twenty men all armed to the teeth gathered together and marched to Loudounier's hut. Arrived there they beat loudly on the door demanding entrance, but Loudounier and his few remaining friends knew well what this loud summons meant, and they refused to open the door. The mutineers, however, were not to be easily held back. They forced open the door, wounding one man who tried to hinder them, and in a few minutes with drawn swords in hand and angry scowls on their faces, they crowded round the sick man's bed. Then holding a gun at his throat, they commanded him to give them leave to set forth for Spanish waters. But the stern old Huguenot knew no fear. Even with a muzzle of a gun against his throat, he refused to listen to the demands of the lawless crew. His calmness drove them to fury. With terrible threats and more terrible oaths, they dragged him from his bed. Loading him with fetters they carried him out of the fort, threw him into a boat, and rode him out to the ship which lay anchored in the river. All the loyal colonists had by this time been disarmed, and the fort was completely in the hands of the mutineers. Their leader then drew up a paper giving them leave to set forth to Spanish possessions, and this he commanded Loudounier to sign. Loudounier was completely in the power of the mutineers. He was a prisoner and ill, but his spirit was unbroken and he refused to sign. Then the mutineers sent him a message saying that if he did not sign they would come on board the ship and cut his throat. So seeing no help for it, Loudounier signed. The mutineers were now greatly delighted at the success of their schemes. They made haste to finish the two little ships which they had been building, and on the 8th of December they set sail. As they went they flung taunts at those who stayed behind, calling them fools and dolts and other scornful names, and threatening them with all manner of punishments should they refuse them free entrance to the fort on their return. As soon as the mutineers were gone Loudounier's friends rode out to him, set him free from his fetters, and brought him back to the colony. They were now but a very small company, but they were at peace with each other and there was plenty to do. So the weeks went quickly by. They finished the fort and began to build two new ships to take the place of those which the mutineers had stolen. But they never thought of tilling the ground and sowing seed to provide bread for the future. Thus more than three months passed. Then one day an Indian brought the news that a strange ship was in sight. Loudounier had once sent some men to find out what ship this might be and whether it was friend or foe. It proved to be a Spanish vessel, which the mutineers had captured and which was now manned by them. But the mutineers who had sailed away full of pride and insolence now returned in very humble mood. Their buccaneering had not succeeded as they had hoped. They were starving, and instead of boldly demanding entrance and putting in force their haughty threats, they were eager to make terms. But Loudounier was not sure whether they really came in peace or not. So he sent out a little boat to the mutineer's ship. On the deck of it there was an officer with one or two men only. But below, thirty men, all armed to the teeth, were hidden. Seeing only these one or two men in the boat, the mutineers let her come alongside. But what was their astonishment when armed men suddenly sprang from the bottom of the boat and swarmed over the sides of their vessel? Many of the mutineers were stupid with drink. All of them were weak with hunger, and before they could seize their arms or make any resistance, they were overpowered and carried ashore. There a court-martial was held, and four of the ring-leaders were condemned to death. But these bold, bad men were loathed to die. Comrades, said one, turning to the loyal soldiers near, will you stand by and see us die thus shamefully? These, replied Loudounier sharply, are no comrades of mutineers and rebels. All appeals for mercy were in vain, so the men were shot, and their bodies hanged on gibbets near the mouth of the river, as a lesson to rebels. After this there was peace for a time in Fort Caroline, but it soon became peace with misery, for the colony began to starve. The long expected ship from France did not come. Rich and fertile land spread all around them, but the colonists had neither plowed nor sown it. They trusted to France for all their food. Now for months no ships had come, and their supplies were utterly at an end. So in ever-increasing misery the days passed. Some crawled about the meadows and forest, digging for roots and gathering herbs. Others haunted the river-bed in search of shellfish. One man even gathered up all the fish-bones he could find, and ground them to powder to make bread. But all that they scraped together with so much pain and care was hardly enough to keep body and soul together. They grew so thin that their bones started through the skin. Gaunt, hollow-eyed specters, they lay about the fort, sunk in misery, or dragged themselves a little way into the forest in search of food. Unless help came from France they knew that they must all soon die a miserable death, and amid all their misery they clung to that last hope that help would come from France. So however feeble they were, however faint with hunger, they would crawl in turns to the top of the hill above the fort, straining their dimming eyes seaward. But no sail appeared. At length they gave up all hope, and determined to leave the hated spot. They had the Spanish ship which the mutineers had captured, and another little vessel besides which they had built. But these were not enough to carry them all to France, so gathering all their last energy they began to build another boat. The hope of getting back to France seemed for a time to put a little strength into their famine-stricken bodies. And while they worked Laudanier sailed up the river in search of food, but he returned empty-handed. Famishing men cannot work, and soon the colonists began to weary of their labours. The neighbouring Indians, too, who might have given them food, were now their enemies. They indeed now and again brought scant supplies of fish to the starving men, but they demanded so much for it that soon the colonists were bare of everything they had possessed. They bartered the very shirts from their backs for food, and if they complained of the heavy price the Indians laughed at them. If thou makest so great a count of thy merchandise, they jeered, eat it, and we will eat our fish. But the summer passed, the grain began to ripen, and although the Indians sold it grudgingly, the colony was relieved from utter misery for the time being. But now fresh troubles arose, for the Frenchmen quarrelled with the thief of the themagos for whose sake they had already made enemies of Sartoriona and his Indians. Thinking themselves treated in an unfriendly manner by the themagos, the Frenchmen seized their chief and kept him prisoner until the Indians promised to pay a ransom of large quantities of grain. The Indians agreed only because they saw no other means of freeing their chief. They were furiously angry with the Frenchmen and seething with indignation against them. They refused to pay an ounce of grain until their chief had been set free, and even then they would not bring it to Fort Caroline, but forced the Frenchmen to come for it. The Frenchmen went, but they very quickly saw that they were in great danger, for the village swarmed with armed warriors who greeted the colonists with scowls of deepest hatred. After a few days therefore, although only a small portion of the ransom had been paid, the Frenchmen decided to make for home as fast as possible. It was a hot July morning on which they set off. Each man, besides his gun, carried a sack of grain, so the progress was slow. They had not gone far beyond the village when a wild war whoop was heard. It was immediately followed by a shower of arrows. The Frenchmen replied with a hot fire of bullets. Several of the Indians fell dead, and the rest fled howling into the forest. Then the Frenchmen marched on again. But they had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile when another war whoop was heard in front. It was answered from behind, and the Frenchmen knew themselves surrounded, but they stood their ground bravely. Dropping their bags of corn, they seized their guns. A sharp encounter followed, and soon the Indians fled again into the forest. But again and again they returned to the attack, and the Frenchmen had to fight every yard of the way. At nine o'clock the fight began, and the sun was setting when at length the Indians gave up the pursuit. When the Frenchmen reached their boats they counted their losses. Two had been killed, and twenty-two injured, some of them so badly that they had to be carried on board the boats. Of all the bags of grain, with which they had started out, only two remained. It was a miserable ending to the expedition. The plight of the colony was now worse than ever. The two sacks of grain were soon consumed. The feeble efforts at building a ship had come to nothing. But rather than stay longer the colonists resolved to crowd into the two small vessels they had, and sail homeward, if only they could gather food enough for the voyage. But where to get that food none knew? One day full of troubled, anxious thoughts, Laudanier climbed the hill and looked seaword. Suddenly he saw something which made his heart beat fast, and brought the colour to his wasted cheeks. A great ship, its sails gleaming white in the sunlight was making for the mouth of the river. As he gazed, another and still another ship hoved in sight. Thrilling with excitement, Laudanier sent a messenger down to the fort, with all speed, to tell the news, and when they heard it the men who had seemed scarce able to crawl arose and danced for joy. They laughed and wept and cried aloud, till it seemed as if joy had bereft them of their wits. But soon fear mingled with their joy. There was something not altogether familiar about the cut and rig of the ships. Were they really the long looked-for ships from France, or did they belong to their deadly and hated enemies, the Spaniards? They were neither one nor the other. That little fleet was English, under command of the famous admiral John Hawkins, in search of fresh water of which they stood much in need. The English admiral at once showed himself friendly. To prove that he came with no evil intent, he landed with many of his officers gaily clad and wearing no arms. The famine-stricken colonists hailed him with delight, for it seemed to them that he came as a deliverer. Gravely and kindly Hawkins listened to the tale of misery, yet he was glad enough when he heard that the Frenchmen had decided to leave Florida, for he wanted to claim it for Queen Elizabeth and England, when, however, he saw the ships in which they meant to sail home, words he shook his head. It was not possible, he said, for so many souls to cross the broad Atlantic in those tiny barks. So he offered to give all the Frenchmen a free passage to France, in his own ships. This, Laudanière refused. Then Hawkins offered to lend him or sell him one of his ships. Even this kindness, Laudanière hesitated to accept. Thereupon there arose a great uproar among the colonists. They crowded round him clamouring to be gone, threatening that if he refused the Englishman's offer they would accept it and sail without him. So Laudanière yielded. He told Hawkins that he would buy the ship he offered, but he had no money. The Englishman, however, was generous. Instead of money he took the cannon, and other things now useless to the colonists. He provided them with food enough for the voyage, and seeing many of the men ragged and barefoot, added, among other things, fifty pairs of shoes. Then with kindly good wishes Hawkins said farewell and sailed away, leaving behind him many grateful hearts. As soon as he was gone the Frenchmen began to prepare to depart also. In a few days all was ready, and they only waited for a fair wind in order to set sail. But as they waited one day the fort was again thrown into a state of excitement by the appearance of another fleet of ships. Again the question was asked, were they friends or foes, Spaniards or Frenchmen? At length, after hours of sickening suspense, the question was answered, they were Frenchmen under the command of Rebault. The long looked-for help had come at last. It had come when it was no longer looked for, when it was indeed unwelcome to many. For the colonists had grown utterly weary of that sun-lit, cruel land, and they only longed to go home. France, with any amount of tyranny, was to be preferred before the freedom and the misery of Florida. But to abandon the colony was now impossible, for besides supplies of food the French ships had brought many new colonists. This time too the men had not come alone, but had brought their wives and families with them. Soon the fort which had been so silent and mournful was filled with sounds of talk and laughter. Again the noise of hatchet and hammer resounded through the woods, and the little forsaken corner of the world awoke once more to life. End of chapter 8, read on October 20, 2007, in Oceanside, California.