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Le Genré, one of the lieutenants of Laudonniere, was of
fierce and intractable temper. His passions had been thwarted
by his superior, whose preferences were clearly with another of
his lieutenants, named D'Erlach.[21] This preference was quite
sufficient to provoke the envy and enmity of Le Genré. His
dislike was fully retorted, and with equal spirit by his brother
officer. But the feelings of D'Erlach, who was the more noble
and manly of the two, were restrained by his prudence and sense
of duty. It had been the task of Laudonniere more than once
to interfere between these persons, and prevent those outrages
which he had every reason to apprehend from their mutual
excitability; and it was partly with the view to keep the parties
separate, that he had so frequently despatched D'Erlach upon
his exploring expeditions. One of these appointments, however,
which Le Genré had desired for himself, had given him no little
mortification when he found that, as usual, D'Erlach had received

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the preference from his superior. It was no proper disparagement
of the claims of others that D'Erlach had been thus preferred.
That he was a favorite, was, perhaps, quite as much due to his
own merits as to the blind partiality of his superior. In choosing
him for the command of his most important expeditions, Laudonniere
was, in fact, doing simple justice to the superior endowments
of caution, prudence, moderation, and firmness, which the young
officer confessedly possessed in very eminent degree. But Le
Genré was not the person to recognize these arguments, or to
acknowledge the superior fitness of his colleague. His discontents,
fanned by the arts of others, and daily receiving provocation
from new causes, finally wrought his blood into such a state
of feverish irritation, as left but little wanting to goad him to
actual insubordination and mutiny.

Laudonniere was not ignorant of the factious spirit of his discontented
lieutenant. He had been warned by D'Erlach that he
was a person to be watched, and his own observations had led
him equally to this conviction. His eye, accordingly, was fixed
keenly and suspiciously upon the offender, but cautiously, however,
so as to avoid giving unnecessary pain or provocation. But
Laudonniere's vigilance was partial only; and his suspicions were
by no means so intense as those of D'Erlach. Besides, his attention
was divided among his discontents. He had become painfully
conscious that Le Genré was not alone in his factious feelings.
He felt that the spirit of this officer was widely spreading in the
garrison. The moods of others, sullen, peevish, and doubtful,
had already startled his fears; and he too well knew the character
of his personnel, and from what sources they had been drawn, not
to be apprehensive of their tempers. Signs of insubordination
had been shown already, on various occasions; and had not

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Laudonniere been of that character which more easily frets with
its doubts than provides against them, he might have legitimately
employed a salutary punishment in anticipating worse offences.
The looks of many had become habitually sullen, their words few
and abrupt when addressed to their commander, while their tasks
were performed coldly and with evident reluctance. Without
exhibiting any positive or very decided conduct, by which to leave
themselves open to rebuke, their deportment was such as to
betray the impatience of bitter and resentful moods, which only
forbore open utterance by reason of their fears. Laudonniere,
without having absolute cause to punish, was equally wanting in
the nice tact which can, adroitly, and without a fall from dignity,
conciliate the inferior. Angry at the appearances which he could
neither restrain nor chastise, he was not sufficiently the commander
to descend happily to soothe. In this distracted condition
of mind, he prepared to despatch his third and last vessel to
France, to implore the long-expected supplies and assistance.

It was a fine evening, at the close of September, such an
evening as we frequently experience during that month in the
South, when a cool breeze, arising from the ocean, ascends to the
shores and the forests, and compensates, by its exquisite and
soothing freshness, for the burning heat and suffocating atmosphere
of the day. Our Frenchmen at La Caroline were prepared
to enjoy the embraces of this soothing minister. Some walked
upon the parapets of the fortress, others lay at length along the
bluff of the river, while others again, in the shade of trees farther
inland, grouped together in pleasant communion, enjoyed the song
or the story, with as much gaiety as if all their cares were about
to be buried with the sun that now hung, shorn of his fiery locks,
just above the horizon. Laudonniere passed among these groups

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with the look of one who did not sympathize with their enjoyments.
He was feeble, dull, and only just recovering from a
sickness which had nigh been fatal. His eye rested upon the
river where lay the vessel, the last remaining to his command,
which, in two days more, was to be despatched for France. He
had just left her, and his course now lay for the deep woods, a
mile or more inland. He was followed, or rather accompanied, by
a youth, apparently about nineteen or twenty years of age—a
younger brother of D'Erlach, his favorite lieutenant. This
young man shared in the odium of his brother, as he also was
supposed to enjoy too largely the favors of Laudonniere. The
truth was, that he was much more the favorite than his brother.
He was a youth of great intelligence and sagacity, observing
mind, quick wit, and shrewd, capacious remark. The slower
thought of his commander was quickened by his intelligence, and
relied, much more than the latter would have been willing to
allow, upon the insinuated, rather than expressed, suggestions of
the youth. Alphonse D'Erlach, but for his breadth of shoulders
and activity of muscle, would have seemed delicately made. He
was certainly effeminately habited. He had a boyish love of
ornament which was perhaps natural at his age, but it had been
observed that his brother Achille, though thirty-five, displayed
something of a like passion. Our youth wore his dagger and his
pistols, the former hung about his neck by a scarf, and the latter
were stuck in the belt about his waist. The dagger was richly
hilted, and the pistols, though of excellent structure, were rather
more remarkable for the beauty of their ornaments than for their
size and seeming usefulness as weapons for conflict.

“And you think, Alphonse,” said Laudonniere, when they had

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entered the wood, “that La Genré is really anxious to return to
France in the Sylph.”

“I say nothing about his return to France, but that he will
apply to you for the command of the Sylph, I am very certain.”

“Well! And you?—”

“Would let him have her.”

“Indeed! I am sorry, Alphonse, to hear you say so. Le
Genré is not fit for such a trust. He has no judgment, no
discretion. It would be a hundred to one that he never reached
France.”

“That is just my opinion,” said the youth, coolly.

“Well! And with this opinion, you would have me risk the
vessel in his hands?”

“Yes, I would! The simple question is, not so much the
safety of the vessel as our own. He is a dangerous person. His
presence here is dangerous to us. If he stays, unless our force is
increased, in another month he will have the fortress in his hands;
he will be master here. You have no power even now to prevent
him. You know not whom to trust. The very parties that you
arm and send out for provisions, might, if they pleased, turn upon
and rend us. If he were not the most suspicious person in the
world—doubtful of the very men that serve him—he would soon
bring the affair to an issue. Fortunately, he doubts rather more
than we confide. He knows not his own strength, and your seeming
composure leads him to overrate ours. But he is getting wiser.
The conspiracy grows every day. I am clear that you should let
him go, take his vessel, pick his crew, and disappear. He will not
go to France, that I am certain. He will shape his course for the
West Indies as soon as he is out of our sight, and be a famous
picaroon before the year is over.”

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“Alphonse, you are an enemy of Le Genré.”

“That is certain,” replied the youth; “but if I am his
enemy, that is no good reason why I should be the enemy of
truth.”

“True, but you suspect much of this. You know nothing.”

“I know all that I have told you,” replied the young man,
warmly.

“Indeed! How?”

“That I cannot tell. Enough that I am free to swear upon
the Holy Evangel, that all I say is true. Le Genré is at the
head of a faction which is conspiring against you.”

“Can you give me proof of this?”

“Yes, whenever you dare issue the order for his arrest and that
of others. But this you cannot do. You must not. They are
too strong for you. If Achille were here now!”

“Ay! Would he were!”

They now paused, as if the end of their walk had been reached.
Laudonniere wheeled about, with the purpose of returning. They
had not begun well to retrace their steps before the figure of a
person was seen approaching them.

“Speak of the devil,” said Alphonse, “and he thinks himself
called; here comes Le Genré.”

“Indeed!” said Laudonniere.

“See now if I am not right—he comes to solicit the command
of the Sylph.”

They were joined by the person of whom they had been speaking.
His approach was respectful—his manner civil—his tones
subdued. There was certainly a change for the better in his
deportment. A slight smile might have been seen to turn the
corner of the lips of young D'Erlach, as he heard the address of

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the new comer. Le Genré began by requesting a private interview
with his commander. Upon the words, D'Erlach went aside
and was soon out of hearing. His prediction was true. Le Genré
respectfully, but earnestly, solicited the command of the vessel
about to sail for France. He was civilly but positively denied.
Laudonniere had not been impressed by the suggestion of his
youthful counsellor; or, if he were, he was not prepared to yield
a vessel of the king, with all its men and munitions, to the control
of one who might abuse them to the worst purposes. The
face of Le Genré changed upon this refusal.

“You deny me all trust, Monsieur,” he said. “You refused
me the command when my claim was at least equal to that of
Ottigny. You denied me that which you gave to D'Erlach,
and now—Monsieur, do you hold me incompetent to this
command?”

“Nay,” said Laudonniere, “but I better prefer your services
here—I cannot so well dispense with them.”

A bitter smile crossed the lips of the applicant.

“I cannot complain of a refusal founded upon so gracious a
compliment. But, enough, Monsieur, you refuse me! May I
ask, who will be honored with this command?”

“Lenoir!”

“I thought so—another favorite! Well!—Monsieur, I wish
you a good evening.”

“You have refused him, I see,” said Alphonse, returning as
the other disappeared.

“Yes, I could do no less. The very suggestion that he might
convert the vessel to piratical purposes, was enough to make me
resolve against him.”

And, still discussing that and other kindred subjects,

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Laudonnierre and his young companion followed in the steps of La
Genré towards the fortress.

eaf373.n21

[21] Laudonniere, in Hakluyt, spells this name improperly. It is properly
written D'Erlach. “Ce Gentilhomme,” says Charlevoix, “étoit Suisse,
et il n'y a point de maison de Suisse plus connuë que celle d'Erlach.”