“Tell me of him, Francois; for though he is my only uncle, I have but little knowledge of him or his deeds. Of what nature are they?”
“Well, then, he is a mighty navigator, and ’tis but little more than a year since he returned from the New World, whither he sailed in company with his Excellency Admiral Jean Ribault. He brings strange tales of those wonderful lands beyond the sea, and rumor has it that he is shortly to set forth again for them with a noble company, who will establish there a sanctuary for our blessed Protestant faith.”
The boy’s interest was thoroughly aroused by this, and he plied the old servant with questions concerning his uncle and the New World. Francois answered these to the best of his ability, and even drew largely upon his imagination to aid his glowing descriptions of those distant lands of which the men of that day held such vague knowledge.
With such talk they beguiled much of the tedious journey, that occupied a week ere it was ended and they entered Paris. Here they were finally set down before a modest dwelling near the King’s palace, in which Laudonniere was lodged.
Upon meeting his nephew, the chevalier embraced him warmly, and then holding him forth at arm’s-length to gain a better view of him, exclaimed, “In good sooth, Rene, thou’rt a likely lad; and if thy heart be as true and bold as thy face promises, we’ll soon make a man of thee such as even thy noble father would approve.”
That evening uncle and nephew talked long and earnestly together concerning the latter’s future; and ere they slept it was fully decided that, in spite of his youth, he should make one of the expedition that, even as Francois had reported, Laudonniere was fitting out for the New World.
The next three months were occupied in busy preparation for the long voyage, not unmixed with vexatious delays and grievous disappointments, in all of which young Rene de Veaux bore manfully his share. He became each day more useful to his uncle, who intrusted him with many important commissions, and who, stern old soldier as he was, learned in this time to love the boy as though he had been his own son.
At length all was in readiness. The stores and munitions of war had been placed on board the three ships that formed the little fleet, the last colonist had embarked, and Laudonniere had taken leave of his King and Admiral Jean Ribault, who was to follow him in a few months with a still larger company. On a bright May morning uncle and nephew reached the little seaport town before which lay their ships, and hastened to embark and take advantage of the favorable wind that promised them a fair start on their long and perilous voyage.
As Laudonniere stepped on board his flagship his broad pennant was flung to the breeze from the mainmast-head, the fleur-de-lis of France floated proudly from the mizzen, and amid the booming of cannon and the loud acclamations of the throngs assembled on the quay to bid them Godspeed, the ships moved slowly down the harbor towards the broad ocean and the New World that lay beyond.