glided on their way; but while, excited and impatient, the fierce crews
watched the decreasing space, and while they were still three leagues
from their prize, the air ceased to stir, the sails flapped against the
mast, a black cloud with thunder rose above the coast, and the warm rain
of the South descended on the breathless sea. It was dark before the
wind moved again, and the ships resumed their course. At half past
eleven they reached the French. The San Pelayo slowly moved to windward
of Ribaut's flag-ship, the Trinity, and anchored very near her. The
other ships took similar stations. While these preparations were making,
a work of two hours, the men labored in silence, and the French,
thronging their gangways, looked on in equal silence. "Never, since I
came into the world," writes the chaplain, "did I know such a
stillness."

It was broken, at length, by a trumpet from the deck of the San Pelayo.
A French trumpet answered. Then Menendez, "with much courtesy," says his
Spanish eulogist, demanded, "Gentlemen, whence does this fleet come?"

"From France," was the reply.

"What are you doing here?" pursued the Adelantado.

"Bringing soldiers and supplies for a fort which the King of France has
in this country, and for many others which he soon will have."

"Are you Catholics or Lutherans?"

Many voices cried together, "Lutherans, of the new religion"; then, in
their turn, they demanded who Menendez was, and whence he came. The
latter answered,--