It thus happened that as the good Le Moyne, who, during the illness of
Laudonniere and most of the other officers, was acting as lieutenant in
command of the fort, sat writing one morning, there came to him Simon,
the armorer, followed by most of the garrison. The old soldier gave a
military salute, which Le Moyne returned, and then he said,
"We have come, Master Le Moyne, these good men here and I, to make
certain propositions that we desire should be laid before his
Excellency the commandant."
"Well," said Le Moyne, in a tone of mild surprise, "have to them
without further delay, and return quickly to thy duties."
"It may be," replied Simon, "that we will return not to them at all; at
least not in the wise meant by thy use of the word. We are starving."
"Ye have not overmuch to eat, tis true," said Le Moyne; "but we hope
for better things."
"We are dying of the fever."
"To a certain extent this is also true."
"We are threatened by an enemy."
"And have stout walls behind which to defend ourselves."
"We are abandoned and forgotten, and our bodies will rot in this place
ere succor is sent us."
"Admiral Jean Ribault is never the man to abandon or forget those to
whom he has promised succor," replied the artist, with a flush of color
in his pale cheeks.
"This country yields no gold, and is unfitted for human residence."
"Yet Micco's people live and thrive here, and have a plenty of the best
raised from its soil.
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