service of God our Lord, and of your Majesty. And I consider it great
good fortune that he (Jean Ribaut) should be dead, for the King of
France could effect more with him and five hundred ducats than with
other men and five thousand, and he would do more in one year than
another in ten, for he was the most experienced sailor and naval
commander ever known, and of great skill in this passage to the Indies
and the coast of Florida. He was, besides, greatly liked in England, in
which kingdom his reputation is such that he was appointed
Captain-General of all the British fleet against the French Catholics in
the war between England and France some years ago."

Such is the sum of the Spanish accounts,--the self-damning testimony of
the author and abettors of the crime. A picture of lurid and awful
coloring; and yet there is reason to believe that the truth was more
hideous still. Among those spared was one Christophe le Breton, who was
carried to Spain, escaped to France, and told his story to Challeux.
Among those struck down in the carnage was a sailor of Dieppe, stunned
and left for dead under a heap of corpses. In the night he revived,
contrived to draw his knife, cut the cords that bound his hands, and
make his way to an Indian village. The Indians, though not without
reluctance, abandoned him to the Spaniards. The latter sold him as a
slave; but on his way in fetters to Portugal, the ship was taken by the
Huguenots, the sailor set free, and his story published in the narrative
of Le Moyne. When the massacre was known in France, the friends and
relatives of the victims sent to the King, Charles IX., a vehement
petition for redress; and their memorial recounts many incidents of the
tragedy. From these three sources is to be drawn the French version of
the story. The following is its substance:--

Famished and desperate, the followers of Ribaut were toiling northward
to seek refuge at Fort Caroline, when they found the Spaniards in their
path. Some were filled with dismay; others, in their misery, almost
hailed them as deliverers. La Caille, the sergeant-major, crossed the
river. Menendez met him with a face of friendship, and protested that he
would spare the lives of the shipwrecked men, sealing the promise with
an oath, a kiss, and many signs of the cross. He even gave it in
writing, under seal. Still, there were many among the French who would
not place themselves in his power. The most credulous crossed the river