This was his crowning exploit. He was now a man of middle age, inured to peril and hardship, and burdened with a heavy load of responsibility. He was stern, reserved, and self-reliant. There were few besides Tonti, his devoted lieutenant, upon whom he could rely. His followers were fickle savages or, worse still, the idle and insubordinate offscour of Europe. He had built and equipped a vessel on the lakes, and she had been sunk with her cargo. He had nearly finished another on the Illinois, when his men mutinied in his absence, and deserted. He had erected forts and planted colonies, which were destroyed or ordered abandoned by a hostile governor. He had been robbed again and again of the stores and supplies which he had transported at great cost into the wilderness, and of the furs which he sent back to Canada. At last he felt that if he was to secure for France the rich valley of the Mississippi and the boundless region drained by its tributaries, and repay his creditors through the monopoly of the trade which he hoped to establish there, he must secure the support of the King himself. Accordingly he turned toward France. His plan found favor with Louis XIV. and his ministers. He was given four vessels, which carried, besides supplies, a hundred soldiers, mechanics and laborers, several families, a number of girls who hoped to find husbands in the new colony, and thirty volunteers. Among these last were several boys, two of them his own nephews, of whom one was destined to be the cause of his death. The expedition was to make a settlement at the mouth of the Mississippi, and organize a force to sweep the Spaniards out of New Mexico. This La Salle promised to do. At last, after so many trials and disappointments, he seemed to stand on the threshold of success. But the dark cloud of misfortune which had so long lowered above his head reappeared when the vessels approached their destination. Numbers of the colonists fell ill on the voyage. At St. Domingo, La Salle himself was stricken down by fever, and his life was despaired of. One of his vessels was taken by Spanish pirates, and his men grew discontented and undisciplined. To cap the climax, the fleet missed the mouth of the Mississippi, and the colonists landed four hundred miles to the westward, at Matagorda Bay. There another vessel was lost while attempting to enter the harbor, and a third, which had acted as escort only, returned to France.