Chapter II : Shipwreck The shipwreck and the climate of Saint Augustine bay. One month of November 1701, a Portuguese commercial ship was shipwrecked near the bay of Saint Augustin, in Tulear, a provi

Chapter II : Shipwreck

The shipwreck and the climate of Saint Augustine bay.

One month of November 1701, a Portuguese commercial ship was shipwrecked near the bay of Saint Augustin, in Tulear, a province in the south-west of Madagascar. This island was crossed to the south by the Tropic of Capricorn. But the tropics were complex. And the climate and the seasons were influenced by the reliefs, the vegetation, and the winds. November to March were the rainy seasons in this island. Rainfall was very heavy. The maximum temperature from November to December was 30 to 31 degrees and the minimum temperature is 20 to 22 degrees. The amount of sunshine per day was 10 hours per day, all sunshine. The annual rainfall was 0.35m in this part of Saint Augustin de Tulear. The sea temperature was 25 to 26 degrees in November and December. The bay of Saint Augustins was a sandy coast. The ocean deposited limestone, shells, corals in the sea, after several years, the torrents torn from the earth which it carried into the sea The earth torn from the summits, deposited at the bottom of the sea. This is the reason, plains covered with alluvium on this coast of the bay of saint-augustin. The wind was dry.

The Natives and the Shipwrecked.

The natives were quite ancient people, because of the wild and forested land of the island. The people who inhabited this desert were the fiercest in behavior. They ate fish, the flesh of oxen, goats and corn. They looked upon peace as the hardest servitude that could be imposed on them. The winds, the sea, the desert sand and the climate were their delight. They braved the sea, they laughed at the storms, it was as if they saw the bottom of the open ocean, so much did they know and despise its pitfalls. These natives never ceased to desolate the foreign ships which were shipwrecked on the island. However, Portuguese commercial ships often passed through the Mozambique Channel for the Indian trading post. One day, a Portuguese ship was shipwrecked on the sands of Saint Augustine Bay. The sailors and occupants of the ship swam to reach the edges of the beach. The natives saw this tragedy from afar. The few Portuguese sailors gathered on the beach, and formed a small camp. Portuguese sailors knew the ancient clash of its natives and foreigners came to explore the island.

The bay of Saint Augustine offered a deserted beach, a vast solitude. Concern reigned on the beach. The Portuguese sailors were obliged to organize a small defense on the beach because the natives threatened an invasion. One of the sailors told the old stories between the Portuguese and the natives, a bloody confrontation. The Portuguese sailor finished telling his story. The sea shore resounded with the cries of those stranded on the beach. Their hearts were variously stirred. The confrontation frightened the Portuguese. However, the Portuguese seemed confident of their defense. Around a campfire, the Portuguese sailors began to dry their clothes. They were collecting a few boxes of wet powder, planks of the ship and food. Early in the morning, they had to fetch fresh water. The ordeal of the sailors became insurmountable with the heat of the day. The captain of the Portuguese ship planned to enter the savannah to make his way. With the heat, the sailors were dehydrated, their mouths were dry. In these moments, the sailors thought of God, they prayed each on their side in order to attract the good grace of God. The important thing was to find water as quickly as possible because the sailors saw some natives who were prowling from afar and disappeared.

Exhausted by the work of the day, the sailors had only a few hours during the night to relax their weary limbs. It happened that the sailors thought of the first whiteness of dawn, the captain's orders came to invade their morning alarm clock. The sailors were surprised to open their eyes in the middle of the beach. Yet there was charm in this awakening of warrior sailors escaped from the perils of the night. The sailor had never heard without a certain warlike joy the voices of the captain, repeated by the echoes of the savannahs and the noises of the sand which greeted the dawn. The sailors liked to see the camp plunged into sleep. The tents, still closed, from which emerged a few half-dressed sailors, the motionless sentinel who, to resist sleep, held a raised finger in an attitude of silence. The captain who visited the sailors colored with the lights of the morning and often the sound of the waves of the sea which rushed on the soft sand of the morning. This camp life did not turn the eyes of the sailors regretfully towards the delights of Portugal. But awoke to the sailors, another species of memories. Several times the sailor found himself alone during the long nights as a sentry, like a simple statue, in the vanguard of the army.

While the Portuguese sailors contemplated the regular fires of the lines of the natives, and the scattered fires of the Portuguese hordes. While the bow was half-stretched, the Portuguese sailor listened to the murmur of the enemy natives, the sound of the sea and the cries of wild birds flying in the darkness. The sailor reflected on his bizarre destiny. He thought he was there, fighting for the Portuguese. Against all forms of enemies from which the sailor had received no injury. Love for the Portuguese fatherland revived in the depths of the heart of the Portuguese sailor. His nation showed itself to him in all its charms. How many times, the sailors, under the burning sun and the breeze of the wind, How often, around the fire that the sailors lit for their vigils at the head of the camp. How often, the sailor and his teams talked of their country Portugal. They told each other their childhood games, the adventures of their youth, the stories of their family. They extolled the arts and politeness of Portugal. The sailor put the phalanx above his life as a sailor. He could not compare his homeland to another. At the same time, the sailor was singing the glory of his country Portugal. Thus, on the beach he repeated the verses of his country Portugal to console himself for their captivity on the beach.

The clash at the beach

When the castaways saw around them the black and flat horizons of the region, this sky without light which seemed to crush them under its lowered vault, this exhausting sun which paints the objects of no color, when the castaways remembered the brilliant landscapes of Portugal, the high and rich border of their horizons, the perfumes of their vines and the beauty of their flowers, the velvety azure of their sky where a golden light plays, then, he took, a desire so strong to see their native land again. Whereas they were, before ready to forget it. The captain of the castaways blamed these feelings, which urged the castaways to face the situation and submit to fate. The natives had been surprised by the defense system organized by the Portuguese captain. The enemy at first avoided combat, but they mustered their warriors. They came in bold numbers, before the castaways, and offered battle on the shore of the sea. And on the other, the next day, at daybreak, the natives were present. Shipwrecked Portuguese sailors were in the front row. They held up the remains of the iron spears and shields from the shipwreck. The Captain and the Princess of Portugal were in the second row and three little Portuguese sailor boys behind. They were all waiting for the fateful moment of the fight.

Opposite the natives deployed like a mobile curtain on steeds spotted like tigers and swift as eagles. The natives saw the shipwrecked camp from afar. A light band around their forehead. A small flap was on their shoulders. Their leader brandished a spear. With his head bent over his neck, they began to scrutinize all the gestures of the castaways on the beach. They had javelins, which were probably stolen from former enemies. Natives of rather gigantic sizes were intermingled here and there. Like tricks in the brilliant troops. The natives having no defense but a single bow, for all clothing but a piece of white cloth. They shivered under a harsh sky. Their leader always stood behind the natives who served as a shield during the fighting. The chief stood motionless with the superb troop of natives. Their leader was rocking on a chair supported by four sturdy black carriers. They were dressed like the Europeans, no doubt, worn clothes, given by the few French in 1678 who left the island. However, the various native army corps were spread all over the army front. The instinct for war was so natural among these natives. That often, in the melee, the simple natives became chiefs, who rallied their scattered companions, in order to indicate them in the midst of war the post to take, for an impetuosity of their offensive.

All these natives were the first to throw their javelins against the shipwrecked, put the spear in their hand and run to the enemy. The shipwrecked received them with intrepidity. Three times they returned to the charge, three times they came crashing against the vast body which pushed him back, like a great ship, sailing on a contrary wind. No less brave and more skilful than the natives. The castaways rained down on the natives a quantity of gunpowder which exploded in the midst of the natives. Progress of the natives. Like a victorious bull of its pastures, proud of its mutilated horn, and the scars of its broad chest, impatiently supported the sting of the Horsefly, under the ardor of the south. Thus, the natives, pierced darts of powder balls, became furious at his wounds, without revenge and without glory. Transported with blind rage, they broke the line in their bosoms, rolled on the ground and struggled in the pangs of pain. The captain and a few sailors moved to repel the natives. A gigantic native rushed to meet him. A violent fight ensued between the belligerents.

However, another wave of more numerous natives threw several javelins at the castaway, several Portuguese sailors died during this stealth attack by the natives. The melee was heating up, a whirlwind of dust rose in the middle of the combatants. The blood flowed like torrents swollen by the rains. The natives proud of his large wounds which seemed more brilliant on the blackness of their half-naked bodies, and roared in the midst of the dead. The brilliant brilliance of the weapons succeeded the dark color of dust and carnage. The planks pierced, the defense boxes smashed. The breath ignited the combatants, the vapors of the sweats of blood formed on the battlefield, a kind of meteor which the gleam of a spear or dagger crossed from time to time a javelin. Like the brilliant line of lightning in the clarity of a storm. Amid the cries of insults, threats, the sound of spears and gunpowder, they no longer heard the voice of their respective leaders. The natives had horribly massacred the Portuguese sailors. The chief of the natives stood up on a crate and displayed his victory. The native chief's comrades in arms were shouting with joy, to the disappointment of the Portuguese captains and the princess and some surviving sailors and the three young Portuguese sailors who were taken away prisoner to their camp, several hours walk, inside the islands

The natives celebrated the victory.

The ox cart was filled with the corpses of the fighters. These horrible remains were sent to a false commune to be buried there. Even later, burned by the Portuguese who avoided the disease. The chief of the natives agreed to burn the combatants. The chief of the natives passed among the marvelous fruit, of the regional wars. He was the heir to the lance of war of these ancestors, the fury to conquer, which lit the fire of its altars only with the fire of the vanquished castaways. Alcohols and songs of joy could be heard in the camp until morning. The victorious chief killed the two oxen which pulled the corpses of the combatants, to distribute them to all his warriors. The Mother of the native chief had given a coral necklace to her victorious son. The native chief hung relics with branches, from the most beautiful offshoot of the sacred groves of his region, as an offering of his victory against the foreigners. When on his right hand, the aboriginal chief waved a white flag, on the field of honor. He couldn't help but scream with joy of war and love for his wars. They never ceased to admire the generations of heroes who had preceded him from father to son. The native chief satiated with murders, contemplated motionless from the top of his chair, with victory, the corpses of his enemies burned on a pile of wood. Thus, a native chief rested, after having torn apart a herd of sheep, his chest exhaled the smell of carnage. It opened and closed in turn its tired mouth to the barbarism of endless killing. Finally, he lay down in the middle of the slaughtered lamb. His mane, moistened with blood dew, fell on both sides of his neck. They savored this blood of the lambs.

The other natives were talking about their lives. The jars of alcohol were everywhere. With all these innocuous gestures, the heads of the natives turned towards their chief. Who had just arrived. A native stumbled in front of the chief, because of alcohol. The native chief pushed him with his feet. The chief got rid of his white linen and threw it in the face of the other native. Then the leader would start dancing around the fire, in the middle of the camp, the others would follow him fearfully. After several minutes of dancing, the natives collapsed, one by one, into a heavy sleep. They were snoring brilliantly as the Portuguese captain and Mary d'Aumale silently left the place. Only the few Portuguese sailors remained to celebrate the victory of the natives. Beef was abundant. The Portuguese sailors took advantage to fill their bellies. This spectacle of alcohol drinker struck the eyes of the Portuguese marine prisoners. Curiosity, fear, hope, attached the spirit of the Portuguese sailors, at the end of this extraordinary scene. A few sober natives looked stupid in front of all their comrade, in a sorry state. All the natives kept shouting a victory cry in the air. It was an exhausting day said the sailors present all night until morning.

A prison camp

The Portuguese prisoner princess decided to change her name to Mary d'Aumale, that of her mother (Mary of Savoy). Sammy the Portuguese Frenchman was her henchman. Straw boxes struck the eyes of the Portuguese prisoners. Under the portico, several men standing and motionless seemed immersed in meditation. While Princess Mary d'Aumale was trying to guess what this monument of sacred wood is in the middle of the camp of the natives, she saw an old white man prisoner, originally from Greece, passing very close to her. This one was a white prisoner from the native camp. His ancestors arrived by sea and became simple inhabitants of the island. Princess Mary d'Aumale had noticed under a puny shelter, the great derisions of fortune that she observed. She stopped the old prisoner of the village, and asked him what use was intended for the monument in front of his hut. It is a sacred wood of the native chief to which the prisoners are attached in order to riddle them with spears until their death. The princess crossed the portico of her hut. She sat down in the middle of her wooden bed, full of emotion. Purity and contemplation seemed to watch over the princess's cabin.

Night was approaching, the light from the wooden lamps struggled with that of twilight. Widespread in the hut. The Portuguese sailors and the princess were praying everywhere. This religion which consoled for everything, touched to the bottom of the heart of the Princess. In this recitation of prayer, each one applied to his own needs, some of his cries towards the sky. The Portuguese sailors asked her several questions which the princess answered with perfect sincerity. The Portuguese never tired of listening to him. His voice had for the Portuguese, a harmony that gently moved the entrails. A flowery, yet simple-tasting eloquence flowed naturally from his lips. She gave the smallest things an ancient twist that delighted Portuguese sailors. She repeated herself like the old ones. But this repetition, which had been a fault in another, became the very grace of his speeches. The Portuguese gave it the beauty of virtue and the omnipotence of the Gods. Thus Princess Mary d'Aumale changed the face of her days. Her peaceful chatelaine lives were replaced by a hard and perilous life, in the midst of a tribe of natives. The native guards watched with suspicion all the gestures of Princess Mary d'Aumale, her Portuguese servants and the Portuguese sailors

The month of November and December 1701.

The first night at the camp the natives were shrouded in deep sleep. The princess's Portuguese maid was snoring, the princess was lying in the shade on the other side of the front door. Outside, it was late at night, the stars were as big as peas. There was no more mist, no more moon, their sky was wide open from side to side. The high wind was singing. all alone. The hutch smelled of dry hay and the breath of fatigue. There was across the whole breadth of heaven and earth a peace and sweetness that heralded the day. The noises were pure and light. The Portuguese marine sentry heard a footstep in the soft grass, it was a native herdsman of the tribe. The herdsman sat without speaking. Take my laundry, he said, It was cold in the morning for you who remained motionless watching the night. The herdsman walked after his animals. At dawn, the Portuguese sailor sentry saw coming out of the shadows of the West oxen with sharp horns. He emerged from the pasture at the edge of the valley and immediately the rising sun was on their foreheads. The Portuguese sailor thanked the herdsman for his linen "I had put mine on the bed of the woman who slept in this hut" said the Portuguese.

The day overlooked the bed of the Portuguese princess. The Portuguese servant had hurried to prepare coffee for the princess. The coming day was the most beautiful of the day according to the princess. The princess was breathing regularly and deeply. There was nothing foreign about her. It was the exact same mouth, the same nose, the same eyelid because she still needed a little sleep. The same forehead, the same cheeks, with strong cheekbones. Princess Mary d'Aumale was wonderful under skin that was quite too large, full of wrinkles and grimaces, but you could see that she carried the seed of the princess's face and that everything would bloom and blossom into the exact shape of this face there, on the pillow. She seemed to have done it alone. The Portuguese servant woke the princess. She asked for a little coffee. The princess's eyes looked at the wall in front of her, her gaze was wide and deep and they gave that face an enormous light, a kind of glow that not only oozed, at skin level, but that came from the inside. When the maid spoke with the princess, the latter looked towards the side of the speaker but with a little delay and the rays of her eyes arrived in the vicinity of the word, then they stopped.

The days at the camp

The princess had been wandering in the camp for a long time. The princess noticed that this adventure was taking a new course in her destiny. Without having anything to reproach herself for, thus, she gave herself up to the injustice of prison. The princess feared the fury of the natives. She had never wanted to believe the reality in front of her eyes. Halfway through the day, she was left alone on her bed of withered grass. But it suffered much more from the presence than from the absence of the natives. The smell of grease mixed with ash ash with which they rubbed their hair. The steam from the grilled flesh, the little air in the hut, and the cloud of smoke that constantly filled it suffocated her. Thus, a just providence made her pay for the delights of her Portugal, the perfumes and the pleasures of which she had indulged. The Portuguese servant could only give her thoughts a few moments. The princess was always amazed at the serenity of the countenance of the Portuguese servant, in the midst of the labors with which she was overwhelmed. Tomorrow, she would begin to fulfill their new duties, said the princess to her Portuguese servant. Remember your virtue said the princess to her servant. Heaven will help you, if you implore it.

The princess plunged into despair. She spent the day, forming and rejecting a multitude of projects. Sometimes she wanted to take her own life, sometimes she thought of fleeing.

But how to flee, weak and helpless ? How to find a path through its shrubs ? She had a resource against her ills, religion, and it was the only means of deliverance that most of the prisoners imagined. In the midst of his anguish, the native chief would visit the hut, and give a dry ox hide to cover himself with and an ox horn to draw water from. A dry fish for the food of the day. Then, Princess Mary of Aumale preferred to be called Mary of Aumale or Mary to hide her Portuguese royal lineage. The Portuguese servant and Mary d'Aumale followed the native serfs who showed the way to the forest. When they arrived at the forest, they began to pick up branches of wood and the withered leaves of the branches of trees broken by the winds. Here and there they formed pieces of it which they tied together with bark. The native serfs made signs to Mary d'Aumale to imitate them, and saw that Mary d'Aumale was unaware of their work. Mary d'Aumale was forced to humble herself under the yoke of servitude. Her bare feet trod the sand, her hair stood on end from the heat, and the mist of her breath froze the tears in her eyes. The Portuguese servant quickly helped Mary d'Aumale. They walked slowly between the trees of the forest.

Camp work.

Mary d'Aumale was ready to succumb to her pain, when she suddenly saw the Portuguese servant beside her. Never gave up. Mary d'Aumale later affirmed to her servant ; that she defended herself with a movement of shame. She said to herself that the Portuguese maid smiled with a triple burden than hers and she, young and strong, she wept. The Portuguese servant said that she found the first burden very heavy. But habit and resignation made the others lighter. The servant ordered Mary to load onto the shoulders of the servants the heavy twig which made Mary d'Aumale's knees bend. The servant said she had no pain. The servant would like Mary d'Aumale to be reconciled with life. She proposed to Mary d'Aumale to rest a little further from the path in order to start a discussion of the day. Then, they climbed an irregular mound, formed by a set of sand, as they saw it. Soon, by the debris of a large sapling in the place, on another old generation sapling fallen at their feet. When they got to the top of the mound, they could see the prison camp compound.

The sun was lowered to the bottom of the sky, the sky showed itself behind a white cloud. It was red and formless, it sent a small beam between the Onilahy river and the mist. Above the water lit up an entire lid of a salt cavern. Long candles of living crystal slowly descended from their own weight. A fairly wide stretch of the river. Mary d'Aumale and her servant hastened to fill the few earthen jars they were carrying on the ox cart. The two women were thinking of the few minutes of walking to get to the camp. However, other Portuguese sailor prisoners accompanied them, closely followed by the native warrior overseers, small green flames. The sun illuminated its last rays of the day. It slid past below the horizon. The sun went away, the cover of mist darkened from moment to moment then it fell back into the oblivion of the earth. Under the feet of the two women, the earth was soft like the meat of a dead animal. They imagined a small strip of mud on the banks of the Onilahy river. The group of Portuguese sailor prisoners with Mary d'Aumale, a Portuguese servant and the natives quickened their pace to reach the camp

The discussion with an old man from the Zara tribe.

Mary d'Aumale took refuge in religion. An old Greek from the Zara tribe passed through the region. He was telling the Portuguese prisoner his story. He said it was useless to revolt against the evils inseparable from the human condition. He himself offered a striking example of what a false wisdom called the blows of fortune. You moaned at your servitude and what would you say when you saw me as a volunteer. ? He explained that his ancestors were banished from Arabia for having defended freedom. His family took refuge in religion, respect for God, asylum of true independence, fed on the precepts of a divine law. He served long as a simple preacher of the law of God. Where he took the name of Mala Aliraza, his religion refused to sacrifice to false Gods. It was a forever memorable example of the sweetness of life in God. He explained that four thousand veterans, white in the trade of the army, full of strength, and having in their hands the spears of the sword, tended, like peaceful lambs, the throats of the executioners. The thought of defending themselves did not even occur to their minds, so deeply had they engraved in the depths of their hearts the words of their master, who ordered obedience and forbade revenge. Most of its veterans perished by iron. They were tied by the back. Sitting among the crowd of victims. They were waiting for the final blow. But they did not know what design of Providence was forgotten in this great massacre.

Mary d'Aumale slowly withdrew without saying anything because she did not understand the discussions in Arabic between the native who was with them and the old man from the Zara tribe. She picked up the burdens of wood, and returned to the prison hut. The next morning, Mary d'Aumale and the Portuguese servant began the prayer in a low voice of the lord in a savage idiom. Thus, she seemed miraculous in the catacombs, when she saw the Portuguese kneel before this powerful Mary d'Aumale. They were all praying with joined hands. None had shed blades and found her under the hut praying. The dislikes of the camp had shaken his spirit. His heart was dominated by a series of misfortune and experience. Mary d'Aumale redoubled her zeal to be able to get out of this prison quagmire. She did not offer the only view of the heiress to the royal life of Portugal. She seemed free, powerful, and glorious, and declared to her Portuguese servant that virtue is only a ghost. Yet the charitable spirit of Mary d'Aumale showed that there is nothing real here below but Christian virtue. Mary d'Aumale, however, had the spirit of science, and a pure taste for arts and letters. It was a charm for the Portuguese sailors to hear her speak of the men of the old days guarding the herds of the natives. The camp had a few goats and oxen to watch constantly.

The description of the camp by the Portuguese captain.

The place seemed vast because a river called the Onilahy on the bay of Saint Augustin at 23°33'50 latitude 120 miles in length, the Onilahy river seemed to be the northern part of the place. It would seem according to the natives who discussed with the Portuguese captain that the place was very large. The Portuguese captain measured it around 10000 sq. but the interior of the region still seemed intact. The coasts of this place are undesirable. According to the Portuguese captain, the place resembled Cape Sainte-Marie to Cape Saint-André because the Portuguese captain already knew the island, during the trade movement towards India. There were only beaches as far as the eye could see and valleys of sand brought together by the wind of sand in this part of the south-west of the island. There was no vegetation in this part. He found only shrubs of woody plants which rose from 1 to 4 meters in height and whose stem and branched from the base. These shrubs were blown all year round by the winds from the sea coasts. The Portuguese captain also noticed large quantities of cacti everywhere in this desert place. The sludge and wet earth that surrounded the isolated waters that remained on dry land due to the rise and fall of the sea. The captain was also seeing Oysters all over this place. The natives of the island claimed that the sea water was very salty in this region of the south-west of the island, up to 24° latitude, at about 20 sq. Mail. A locality without seafood. The captain noticed that the Onilahy River flowed to salobe, a location near Fort Dauphin. The natives grew beans and corn. The land was too dry, with very little rainfall, so the natives could not grow rice. The port was Soalara, a port of the English. The natives were too pagan.

The hydrography of the western side of the island had long and beautiful rivers which spread widely in the sedimentary formations with less brutal floods, with relatively high average flows, but with very thin stages (April-October) almost zero said the Portuguese captain. This southern river, the Onilahy, was a long river collecting the waters of the Ihorombe, the Bara plateau and the Ivakoany, said the natives of the islands. On the coast of Saint-Augustin bay at Cape Saint-André from the south, the western coastline was flat and often marshy, overgrown with mangroves and bordered by coral reefs. Especially from Tuléar to Morombe, the coast of the island presented no part of natural shelters. However, this west coast was conducive to merchant shipping. The Portuguese captain noted the soil of sedimentary origin, the land was red sandy clay. Frequently with calcareous shells, the south-west of the island like Mahafaly, of mediocre fertility. Often skeletal. That is to say where the source rock is still insufficiently decomposed chemically. The vegetation areas substantially mirrored the thorny bush climatic zones of the southwest of the island. The thorny bush of the south and especially of the semi-desert southwest had vegetation adapted to the climates, including the various cactaceae (cacti) including the prickly pear or racket and the candles and bottle trees. With rare shrubs of strange shapes, specific to this region. The relative abundance of fish, both on the coasts and in freshwater and brackish lagoons. The natives of the coast lived from fishing. The natives were similar in the diversity of traditional customs. They found their origin in the adaptation to climates, and to ways of life, reinforced by the absence of unity for centuries.

Camp life.

The native chief system was unique. Decisions came from one person. The power shared between the different natives met in the hand of one when danger presented itself without warning. The tribe whose native chief had the honor of commanding. He owed this fame of excluding women in the decisions of the tribe. Spears and machetes were for the warriors of the camp. Women and children had the essential tasks of collecting firewood and preparing meals for the day. As for Mary d'Aumale and her Portuguese servant, the native chief had privileged them. The captain of the Portuguese ship insisted on this point with the remains of the sailors. The native chief accepted the exceptional conditions of Mary d'Aumale. The chief was afraid of reprisals from other Portuguese who often passed through the island. However, he kept them prisoner, in order to sell them to slave traders. The chief did not know that Mary d'Aumale was a Portuguese princess. He thought that the commercial ship was a simple foreigner that he could sell as a slave. Camp customs remained simple. The women on one side with their children and the men hunting for food.

This month of December 1701 the native chief brought together his natives to deliberate on the affairs of the tribe. The natives all came armed. The chief sat on the sand. The women brought him presents which they received with great joy. He listened to the complaint of his subjects, rather, of his companions and meted out justice with fairness. Native families seemed to cultivate land assigned to them by the chief every year. After the harvest, the product returned to a possession of the tribe. Two very fat oxen were the present offered for this year by the tribe to the chief. The latter showed the Portuguese prisoner his presents. The Portuguese sailors cheered the leader who was doubly delighted with his praise of the prisoners. The warriors were all jumping in the middle of the camp with their spear and assegai. They were all drinking very strong alcohol. The Portuguese captain ordered his sailors to abstain from drinking it. In return, the indigenous women presented cow's milk to the prisoners with corn at will. This day was quite tiring for the prisoners who had to sleep to harvest beans, early the next day, all the Portuguese returned to their prison hut.