Unless help came from France they knew that they must all soon die
a miserable death. And amid all their misery they clung to that
last hope, that help would come from France. So, however feeble they
were, however faint with hunger, they would crawl in turns to the
top of the hill above the fort straining their dimming eyes seaward.
But no sail appeared.
At length they gave up all hope, and determined to leave the hated
spot. They had the Spanish ship which the mutineers had captured,
and another little vessel besides which they had built. But these
were not enough to carry them all to France, so gathering all their
last energy they began to build another boat. The hope of getting
back to France seemed for a time to put a little strength into their
famine stricken bodies. And while they worked Laudonni?re sailed
up the river in search of food. But he returned empty-handed.
Famishing men cannot work, and soon the colonists began to weary
of their labours.
The neighbouring Indians, too, who might have given them food, were
now their enemies. They indeed now and again brought scant supplies
of fish to the starving men. But they demanded so much for it that
soon the colonists were bare of everything they had possessed. They
bartered the very shirts from their backs for food. And if they
complained of the heavy price the Indians laughed at them.
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