The idea was excellent, and the profits were great: in a few months the adventurer's vessel was filled with riches, more or less honourably acquired. Still, for reasons best known to himself, Don Estevan felt no desire to return to France. He therefore resolved to seek a spot where it would be possible for him to build a fortress capable of protecting him, and serve him as a secure retreat against the pirates who traversed these seas in the same way as he did; he therefore began carefully exploring the Texan coast, in order to find a suitable spot to carry out his plans. Accident led him to the mouth of the Rio Trinidad, a few miles from the spot where Galveston was built at a later date, in a wild and uninhabited country, whose appearance attracted him at the first glance. Like the old pirate he was, the Count admired the magnificent block of granite that commanded the entrance of the bay he had put into; and, seeing the importance of a citadel built on this rock, and the power it would eventually give his family, he resolved to form his nest there. When his choice was made, the pirate had his vessel drawn ashore, camped with his men at the foot of the rock, and began reflecting on the means of carrying out his bold scheme. A good many things troubled him--in the first place, where should he procure the stones necessary for such an edifice; and if the stones were found, where should he get the masons to put them together. Count Estevan de Sourdis and his comrades were excellent sailors--killing, pillaging, and ravishing conscientiously each time that the opportunity offered itself; but, as a general rule, they were very poor masons, and nothing of architects. And then again, supposing the stones were found, squared, and brought to the foot of the rock, how were they to be raised to the top? This was really the insurmountable difficulty; and any other than the bold pirate would have renounced the execution of a plan which he recognised as impossible. But the Count was obstinate; he said to himself with a certain show of reason, that the greater the difficulties to overcome, the stronger and better protected from attack his castle would be. In consequence, far from recoiling, he armed his people with iron crowbars, and began forming in the rock a path which wound round it and was to finish at the summit. This path, three feet wide at the most, was so steep and abrupt, that the slightest false step sufficed to hurl those who ventured on it down an abyss, at the bottom of which they were crushed to death. After a year of superhuman toil, the path was formed, and the count, scaling it on his horse, at the risk of breaking his neck one hundred times, planted his banner on the top of the rock, with a shout of pride and joy.