then
holding him forth at arm's-length to gain a better view of him,
exclaimed, "In good sooth, Rene, thou'rt a likely lad; and if thy heart
be as true and bold as thy face promises, we'll soon make a man of thee
such as even thy noble father would approve."

That evening uncle and nephew talked long and earnestly together
concerning the latter's future; and ere they slept it was fully decided
that, in spite of his youth, he should make one of the expedition that,
even as Francois had reported, Laudonniere was fitting out for the New
World.

The next three months were occupied in busy preparation for the long
voyage, not unmixed with vexatious delays and grievous disappointments,
in all of which young Rene de Veaux bore manfully his share. He became
each day more useful to his uncle, who intrusted him with many important
commissions, and who, stern old soldier as he was, learned in this time
to love the boy as though he had been his own son.

At length all was in readiness. The stores and munitions of war had been
placed on board the three ships that formed the little fleet, the last
colonist had embarked, and Laudonniere had taken leave of his King and
Admiral Jean Ribault, who was to follow him in a few months with a still
larger company. On a bright May morning uncle and nephew reached the
little seaport town before which lay their ships, and hastened to embark
and take advantage of the favorable wind that promised them a fair start
on their long and perilous voyage.

As Laudonniere stepped on board his flagship his broad pennant was flung
to the breeze from the mainmast-head, the _fleur-de-lis_ of France
floated proudly from the mizzen, and amid the booming of cannon and the
loud acclamations of the throngs assembled on the quay to bid them
Godspeed, the ships moved slowly down the harbor towards the broad ocean
and the New World that lay beyond.

For many weeks they sailed ever westward, seeing no ship save their own,
and becoming every day more weary of the vast, endless expanse of sea and
sky. It is no wonder, then, that when on the morning of the 22d of June
the welcome cry of "Land, ho!" rang through the flag-ship every soul on
board rushed on deck with joyous exclamations to catch once more a
glimpse of the blessed land. The cry that had brought them such pleasure
had come from the mast-head, and it was some time before those on deck
could detect the dim blue cloud, low-lying in the west, that was sa