“Never since I came into the world did I know such a stillness.”

A trumpet sounded on the San Pelayo.  A trumpet sounded on the Trinity.  Menendez spoke, politely.

[Illustration:  “‘GENTLEMEN, WHENCE DOES THIS FLEET COME?’”—­Page 204]

“Gentlemen, whence does this fleet come?”

“From France.”

“What is it doing here?”

“Bringing soldiers and supplies to a fort of the King of France in this country—­where he soon will have many more,” flung back the Breton captain defiantly.

“Are you Catholics or Lutherans?”

This time a score of clear voices reinforced the Captain’s—­“Lutherans—­Huguenots—­the Reformed Faith—­The Religion!” And the Captain added, “Who are you yourself?”

“I am Pedro Menendez de Avila, General of the fleet of the King of Spain, Don Felipe the Second, who come hither to hang and behead all Lutherans whom I find by land or sea, according to instructions from his Majesty, which leave me no discretion.  These commands I shall obey, as you will presently see.  At daybreak I shall board your ships.  If I find there any Catholic he shall be well treated.  But every heretic shall die.”

The reply to the rolling sonorous ultimatum was a shout of derision.

“Ah, if you are a brave man, don’t put it off till daylight!  Come on now and see what you will get!”

Menendez in black fury snapped out a command.  Cables were slipped, and the towering black hulk of the San Pelayo bore down toward the Trinity.  But the Breton captain was already leading the little fleet out of danger, and with all sail set, went out to sea, answering the Spanish fire with tart promptness.  In the morning Menendez gave up the chase and came back to find armed men drawn up on the beach, and all the guns of the ships inside the bar pointed in his direction.  He steered southward and found three ships already unloading in a harbor which he named San Augustin and proceeded to fortify.

In Fort Caroline, Pierre Debre, awakened by the sound of firing, ran down to the beach, where a crowd was gathering.  No one could see anything but the flashes of the guns; who or what was attacking the ships there was no way of knowing.  The first light of dawn showed the two fleets far out at sea, and Ribault at once ordered the drums to beat “To arms!” They saw the great galleon approach, hover about awhile, and bear away south.  When the French fleet came back later, one of the captains, Cosette, reported that trusting in the speed of his ship he had followed the Spaniards to the harbor where they were now landing and entrenching themselves.

The terror which haunted the future of every Huguenot in France now menaced the New World.

Ribault gave his counsel for an immediate attack by sea, before Menendez completed his defense or received reinforcements.  Laudonniere was ill in bed.  The fleet sailed as soon as it could be made ready, and with it nearly every able fighting man in the settlement.  Pierre, nearly crying with wrath and disappointment, was left among the non-combatants at the fort.  In vain did old Challeux the carpenter try to console him.  It might be, as Challeux said, that there would be plenty of chances to fight after his beard was grown, but now he was missing everything.