y had no means of crossing. Immediately Menendez started out
with about sixty men in boats and met them.

The starving Frenchmen, deceived by his apparent humanity in setting
breakfast before them, surrendered, and, having been ferried over the
inlet in small batches, were led back into the sand-hills and butchered.

About two weeks later word was brought to Menendez of a second and larger
party of Frenchmen who had reached the same fatal spot. Ribaut himself
was among them. Not knowing of the horrible fate of his countrymen, he
tried to make terms with the Spaniards. While he was parleying with
Menendez, two hundred of his followers marched away, declaring that they
would rather take chances with the Indians than with these white men whom
they distrusted.

Ribaut, having surrendered with the remaining hundred and fifty, was led
away behind the sandhills and his hands were tied. Then he knew that he
had been duped, and calmly faced his doom. "We are of earth," he said,
"and to earth must return! Twenty years more or less matter little."

{96}

As before, the deluded Frenchmen were brought over in tens, led away,
tied, and, at a given signal, butchered.

Some twenty days later, Menendez received tidings of a third band of
Frenchmen, far to the southward, near Cape Canaveral. This was the party
that had refused to surrender with Ribaut. When he reached the place, he
saw that they had reared a kind of stockade and were trying to build a
vessel out of the timbers of their wrecked ship. He sent a messenger to
summon them to surrender, pledging his honor for their safety. Part
preferred to take the chance of being eaten by Indians, they said, and
they actually fled to the native villages. The rest took Menendez at his
word and surrendered, and they had no reason to regret it. He took them
to St. Augustine and treated them well. Some of them rewarded the pious
efforts of the priests by turning Catholics. The rest were no doubt sent
to the galleys.

Everybody is familiar with the story of the vengeance taken by Dominique
de Gourgues, a Gascon gentleman. Seeing the French court too supine to
insist upon redress, he sold his estate, with the proceeds equipped and
manned three small vessels, sailed to the coast of Florida and, {97} with
the assistance of several hundred Indians, who hated the cruel Spaniards,
captured Fort Caroline, slaughtered the garrison, hanged the prisoners,
and put up over the scene of