The Indians had left the neighborhood, but from time to time brought in
meagre supplies of fish, which they sold to the famished soldiers at
exorbitant prices. Lest they should pay the penalty of their extortion,
they would not enter the fort, but lay in their canoes in the river,
beyond gunshot, waiting for their customers to come out to them.
"Oftentimes," says Laudonniere, "our poor soldiers were constrained to
give away the very shirts from their backs to get one fish. If at any
time they shewed unto the savages the excessive price which they tooke,
these villaines would answere them roughly and churlishly: If thou make
so great account of thy marchandise, eat it, and we will eat our fish:
then fell they out a laughing, and mocked us with open throat."

The spring wore away, and no relief appeared. One thought now engrossed
the colonists, that of return to France. Vasseur's ship, the "Breton,"
still remained in the river, and they had also the Spanish brigantine
brought by the mutineers. But these vessels were insufficient, and they
prepared to build a new one. The energy of reviving hope lent new life
to their exhausted frames. Some gathered pitch in the pine forests; some
made charcoal; some cut and sawed timber. The maize began to ripen, and
this brought some relief; but the Indians, exasperated and greedy, sold
it with reluctance, and murdered two half-famished Frenchmen who
gathered a handful in the fields.

The colonists applied to Outina, who owed them two victories. The result
was a churlish message and a niggardly supply of corn, coupled with an
invitation to aid him against an insurgent chief, one Astina, the
plunder of whose villages would yield an ample supply. The offer was
accepted. Ottigny and Vasseur set out, but were grossly deceived, led
against a different enemy, and sent back empty-handed and half-starved.