And the speaker looked round him, into the faces of his fellows, and they lightened up with a glow of cheerfulness and pride, though no word was spoken. "Speaks this man for the rest of ye?" demanded Melendez. For a moment there was silence. At length a matelit advanced--a common sailor--a man before the mast. "Ay! ay! captain! what he says we say! and there's no use for more palaver. Let there be an end of it. We are of the church of Messer Luther, and no other; if death's the word, we're ready. We're not the men, at the end of the reckoning, to belie the whole voyage!" "Be it it even as ye say!" answered Melendez coldly, but sternly, and without change of accent or show of passion: "Take them forth, and let them be hung to yonder tree!" Then rose the shrieks of women and the cries of children; women seeking to embrace their husbands and children clinging to the knees of their doomed sires. But these produced no relentings. The parties were separated by the strong hand, and the unhappy men were hurried to the fatal tree. The priest stood ready to receive their recantations. His exhortations were not spared; but soldier and sailor had equally spoken for the resolute martyrdom of the whole. The reverend father preached to them, and promised them in vain. Amidst cries and curses, the victims were run up to the wide-spreading branches of a mighty oak, dishonored in its employment for such a purpose, and perished in their fidelity to the faith which they professed. Their bodies were left hanging in the sun and wind, destined equally as trophies of the victor, and warnings to the heretic. A monument was instantly raised beneath the tree, upon which was printed in large characters-- "These do not suffer thus as Frenchmen, but as Heretics and Enemies to God!" XXIII. THE FORTUNES OF RIBAULT. CHAPTER I.