The Lily and the Totem; or, The Huguenots in FloridaSimms, William Gilmore
History
The Lily and the Totem; or, The Huguenots in Florida
Simms, William Gilmore
Florida -- History -- Huguenot colony, 1562-1565 -- Fiction
"But the sufferings of that wretched victim, who then and thus perished,
were they greater than those which followed our footsteps,--we, the
survivors,--haunting us by night and day, with the mortal terrors of a
fear that such must be our doom also? Every rustle of an approaching
footstep among the maize-stalks where we toiled, breaking the stems and
gathering the ripened ears, seemed to our woe-stricken souls, as the
step of one who came as an executioner; while we labored in the gloomy
thicket, gathering fuel for the winter fires, the same fear was hanging
over us with a threat of the impending doom. We lived and slept in a
continual dread of death, which made the hair whiten on every brow, even
of the youngest, before that terrible winter was gone over.
"To us it was assigned to put away the body of our murdered comrade. But
this was only after the three days of the feast was elapsed, and when
the duty was tenfold distressing. Still, though all our senses revolted
at the task, a fearful curiosity compelled a close examination of
the victim. Then it was that we saw how the execution had been done,
though we knew not then, nor until some time after, that the cell
which enshrined and kept the heart had been torn open, and the
sacred possession wrenched away with violent hands, even while the
wretched victim had eyes to see, as well as sensibilities to feel, the
sacrilegious and bloody theft. We bore the body far into the woods,
wrapping it with leaves so as to hide it from our eyes, while we carried
it in the bottom of an old canoe which we found for this purpose. Our
burial was conducted after the fashion of the red-men. We laid the corse
of our comrade upon a bed of leaves on the naked earth, and laid heavy
fragments of pine and other combustible wood about him. With this
we made a great pile, which we set on fire, and let to burn until
everything was consumed. We then, with sad, sorrowing, and trembling
hearts, returned, each one of us, in a mournful silence that wist not
what to say, to our separate tasks, and the places which had been
assigned us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account