“Followers of Ribaut,” answered the swimmer, “Viceroy of the King of France.”

“Are you Catholics or Lutherans?”

“All Lutherans.”

A brief dialogue ensued, during which the Adelantado declared his name and character.  The Frenchman swam back to his companions, but soon returned, and asked safe conduct for his captain and four other gentlemen who wished to hold conference with the Spanish general.  Menendez gave his word for their safety, and, returning to the shore, sent his boat to bring them over.  On their landing, he met them very courteously.  His followers were kept at a distance, so disposed behind hills and clumps of bushes as to give an exaggerated idea of their force,—­a precaution the more needful as they were only about sixty in number, while the French, says Solis, were above two hundred, though Menendez declares that they did not exceed a hundred and forty.  The French officer told him the story of their shipwreck, and begged him to lend them a boat to aid them in crossing the rivers which lay between them and a fort of their King, whither they were making their way.

Then came again the ominous question,—­

“Are you Catholics or Lutherans?”

“We are Lutherans.”

“Gentlemen,” pursued Menendez, “your fort is taken, and all in it put to the sword.”  And in proof of his declaration he caused articles plundered from Fort Caroline to be shown to the unhappy petitioners.  He then left them, to breakfast with his officers, first ordering food to be placed before them.  His repast over, he returned to them.

“Are you convinced now,” he asked, “that what I have told you is true?”

The French captain assented, and implored him to lend them ships in which to return home.  Menendez answered, that he would do so willingly, if they were Catholics, and if he had ships to spare, but he had none.  The supplicants then expressed the hope, that, at least, they and their followers would be allowed to remain with the Spaniards till ships could be sent to their relief, since there was peace between the two nations, whose kings were friends and brothers.

“All Catholics,” retorted the Spaniard, “I will befriend; but as you are of the New Sect, I hold you as enemies, and wage deadly war against you; and this I will do with all cruelty [crueldad] in this country, where I command as Viceroy and Captain-General for my King.  I am here to plant the holy gospel, that the Indians may be enlightened and come to the knowledge of the holy Catholic faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, as the Roman Church teaches it.  If you will give up your arms and banners, and place yourselves at my mercy, you may do so, and I will act towards you as God shall give me grace.  Do as you will, for other than this you can have neither truce nor friendship with me.”

Such were the Adelantado’s words, as reported by a by-stander, his admiring brother-in-law; and that they contain an implied assurance of mercy has been held, not only by Protestants, but by Catholics and Spaniards.  The report of Menendez himself is more brief and sufficiently equivocal:—­