So we sailed beyond Veragua hunting the strait which
we must pass through to Ganges and Ind of old history.
PUERTO BELLO! Beautiful truly, and a harbor
where might ride a navy. But no gold; and now
came back very evilly the evil weather. Seven
days a blast rocked us. We strained eyes to see
if the Margarita yet lived. The San
Sebastian likewise was in trouble. No break
for seven days. It was those enchanters of Cariari—
magic asleep for a while but now awake!
Storm. And two ships nigh to foundering.
When wind sank and blue came back, we left Puerto
Bello and turned again south by east, but now with
crazy, crazy ships, weather-wrenched and worm-eaten,
teredo pierced. They looked old, so
old, with their whipped and darkened sails. And
when we dropped anchor in some bight there was no
gold, but all night we heard that harsh blowing of
shells and beating of drums.
Francisco and Diego de Porras, Alonso de Zamorra,
Pedro de Villetoro, Bernardo the Apothecary and others,
the most upon the Consolacion, others on the
Margarita and the Juana, now began to
brew mutiny.
We sailed on, and upon this forlorn coast we met no
more gold. Our ships grew so worn that now at
any threat in the sky we must look and look quickly
for harborage, be it good or indifferent bad.
To many of us the coast now took a wicked look.
It was deep in November.
No gold. These Indians—how vast anyhow
was India?— were hostile, not friendly.
Our ships were dying, manifestly. If they sank
under us and we drowned, the King and Queen—if
the Queen still lived—never would come
to know that Christopherus Columbus had found Veragua
thrice more golden even than Paria! Found Veragua,
met men of Yucatan; and heard of Ciguarre.
At last not only the mutinous but steadfast men cried,
“If there is a strait it is too far with these
ships!”
For a time he was obstinate. It must be found,—it
must be found! But one night there fell all but
loss of the Margarita. When next he slept he
had a dream. “The good Queen came to me
and she had in her hand a picture of five stout ships.
Out of her lips came a singing voice. `Master Christopherus,
Master Christopherus, these wait for you, riding in
Cadiz harbor! But now will you slay your son
and your brother and all your men?’ Then she
said, `The strait is hidden for a while,’ and
went.”
That day we turned. “We will go back to
Veragua and lade with gold, and then we’ll sail
to Jamaica and to Hispaniola where this time we shall
be welcome! Then to Spain where the Queen will
give me a stronger fleet.”
Our ships hailed the turning. Even the Adelantado,
even Diego Mendez and Juan Sanchez and Bartholomew
Fiesco who were of the boldest drew long breath as
of men respited from death.
Not so many have known and lived to tell of such weather
as now we met and in it rolled from wave to wave through
a long month.
