who, cutting the moorings of their brigantine, fled out to sea.  Among these was the ringleader, Fourneaux, and, happily, the pilot, Trenchant.  The latter, eager to return to Fort Caroline, whence he had been forcibly taken, succeeded during the night in bringing the vessel to the coast of Florida.  Great were the wrath and consternation of the discomfited pirates, when they saw their dilemma; for, having no provision, they must either starve or seek succor at the fort.  They chose the latter alternative, and bore away for the St. John’s.  A few casks of Spanish wine yet remained, and nobles and soldiers, fraternized by the common peril of a halter, joined in a last carouse.  As the wine mounted to their heads, in the mirth of drink and desperation, they enacted their own trial.  One personated the judge, another the commandant; witnesses were called, with arguments and speeches on either side.

“Say what you like,” said one of them, after hearing the counsel for the defence, “but if Laudonniere does not hang us all, I will never call him an honest man.”

They had some hope of gaining provision from the Indians at the mouth of the river, and then patting to sea again; but this was frustrated by La Caille’s sudden attack.  A court-martial was called near Fort Caroline, and all were found guilty.  Fourneaux and three others were sentenced to be hanged.

“Comrades,” said one of the condemned, appealing to the soldiers, “will you stand by and see us butchered?”

“These,” retorted Laudonniere, “are no comrades of mutineers and rebels.”

At the request of his followers, however, he commuted the sentence to shooting.

A file of men; a rattling volley; and the debt of justice was paid.  The bodies were hanged on gibbets at the river’s mouth, and order reigned at Fort Caroline.

CHAPTER III.

While the mutiny was brewing, one La Roche Ferriere had been sent out as an agent or emissary among the more distant tribes.  Sagacious, bold, and restless, he pushed his way from town to town, and pretended to have reached the mysterious mountains of Appalachee.  He sent to the fort mantles woven with feathers, quivers covered with choice furs, arrows tipped with gold, wedges of a green stone like beryl or emerald, and other trophies of his wanderings.  A gentleman named Grotaut took up the quest, and penetrated to the dominions of Hostaqua, who could muster three or four thousand warriors, and who promised with the aid of a hundred arquebusiers to conquer all the kings of the adjacent mountains, and subject them and their gold-mines to the rule of the French.  A humbler adventurer was Peter Gamble, a robust and daring youth, who had been brought up in the household of Coligny, and was now a soldier under Laudonniere.  The latter gave him leave to trade with the Indians, a privilege which he used so well that he grew rich with his traffic, became prime favorite with the chief of Edelano, married his daughter, and, in his absence, reigned in his stead.  But, as his sway verged towards despotism, his subjects took offence, and beat out his brains with a hatchet.