raging. The French in their dismantled
little post have deemed no enemy hardy enough to venture out in
such elemental fury. Laudonierre himself has dismissed the weary
sentinels from the wall, secure in the thought that Nature,
herself, is his protection. He does not know the tenacity of the
Spaniard. Menendez, setting out from his new stronghold with a few
hundred men and struggling on against the storm, is even now within
striking distance of the doomed French retreat. A sudden rush upon
the sleeping garrison and the Spaniards are within the fort. No
mercy is shown. One hundred and thirty men are killed with little
resistance. One old carpenter escaped to the woods during the
mêlée, but surrendered himself to the Spaniards the next morning
with pleas for mercy. He was butchered with his prayers upon his
lips.

Menendez returned to St. Augustine and in a few days heard that
some of the French ships which had fled in disorder during the rout
at the fort had landed their crews about twenty miles south of St.
Augustine. He immediately set out for the spot with one hundred
and fifty men. The hapless French without food and without shelter
surrendered themselves to Menendez. All of them (over a hundred in
number) with the exception of twelve Breton sailors, who had been
kidnapped, and four ships’ caulkers who might be useful to the
Spaniards, were put to the knife in cold blood. Again, word came to
Menendez that castaway Frenchmen were south of St. Augustine. It
was the remainder of the French squadron under Ribaut--more than
three hundred and fifty in number. Menendez repeated his tactics
with this company as well. He allowed them to trust themselves to
his mercy and then conclusively proved that there was no mercy in
the heart of a Spaniard of the Inquisition by putting the whole
company to death ten at a time. The spot where these two butcheries
took place is known to this day as Matanzas, or the Place of the
Slaughters.

Immediately now the Spaniard began to make himself more secure
in Florida. His stronghold