by G. A. Henty
“Then, when we have taken in what we want, we will sail west; and if we find this land, as I doubt not we shall, we will return home with such treasures as were never brought before into an English port.
“You must make up your minds, lads, that it is not to be all plain sailing, and that we may have hardships and trials to meet with; but no true sailor shrinks from these. It is a grand adventure, lads—an adventure that nobles and princes would be glad to share in. There is honor and glory in it, as well as booty. We shall be the first Englishmen who ever sailed those seas, or dared to dispute the right of the Spaniards to keep all the treasures of the west in their hands; and in time to come your children’s children will be proud to say, ‘My grandsire was one of those who sailed in the Swan.’”
When the captain ceased speaking, there was a shout of enthusiasm from his hearers; not one of whom but considered himself to be one of the most fortunate of men, in being chosen as one of the crew of the Swan. This was an adventure, indeed. It was no mere trading voyage, but a grand expedition. There were new lands to be seen, there was the satisfaction of outwitting the Spaniards, there were glory and honor and gold to be obtained.
As for hardships and danger, they recked little of them. These always formed part of their lot; and with so well found a ship, and so good a crew, they felt confident of being able to face anything that might befall them.
They speedily broke up into excited groups, eagerly discussing the news they had heard. The new hands plied the older ones with questions, as to the general strength of the Spanish ships, the number of men they carried, and their armament. The guns were examined with fresh attention and admiration, and men looked along the sights as if already, in fancy, engaging in an encounter with the Dons. A horn of strong ale was served out to each, by the captain’s orders, to celebrate the occasion; and the men drank success to the enterprise, shaking each other by the hand, and each vowing to do his share, bravely.
The wind continued favorable until they had passed Madeira, which was seen like a cloud on the port side. Three days later the breeze dropped, and there was a stark calm, in which the Swan lay motionless on the sea for well nigh a fortnight. The captain, knowing well that idleness is, of all things, the most harmful to a crew, set them to work to get up the cases of arms, and polish their swords and pikes until they shone. Then the crew were exercised with boarding pike and cutlass. Singlesticks and staffs, which the captain had provided for such an occasion, were brought up; and men were matched against each other with these—small prizes being given to those who showed themselves the most proficient.
Squads were told off to the great guns, and instructed how these should best be worked by the gunner, so that each man should do his share without hurry or confusion. He would fain have practiced them at a mark, but this the captain would not have as, with the air so still, the guns would be heard at a long distance, and might even bring up some Spanish or Portuguese vessel, to inquire into the cause of the firing—for they were now far below the line which the ships of other nations were forbidden to cross. Nor was there great need for practice, for to each gun was appointed, as captain, one of the old hands accustomed to the work, who could be trusted to send the ball straight when the time should come.
With these and other exercises, and with such sports as the sailors could devise, the time of the calm was got through well enough. They had now been over a month at sea; but, thanks to the honest food and sound cider, the men’s health in no way suffered, and all were as well and hearty as upon the day when they set sail.
When the wind came, it came with sudden fury; but Reuben Hawkshaw had heard of the sudden gales that ships sailing west had to encounter, and took precautions as soon as it began to rise—furling up all the great sails; passing lifelines along the sides, to which the men could cling, if the waves washed boisterously over her; and clearing the decks and closing up all hatchways and openings. So, though for a week she tossed and labored in the gale, she was none the worse when it ceased; and indeed, the seas she encountered were by no means so heavy as those with which she had battled, on her voyage home from Spain.
While the gale lasted, Reuben Hawkshaw took every precaution to enable him to keep his reckoning, heaving the log every half hour, and noting constantly each change in the direction of the wind; so that, when all was over, he could tell within fifty miles the spot where the gale left her—for in those days the instruments of navigation were in their infancy, and sailors relied chiefly on the compass, and dead reckoning, to bring them safe to port, however long their voyage might be. Reuben Hawkshaw knew of no other plan, but as far as these went he was an excellent navigator, and was seldom many miles out in making a landfall.
As soon as the gale abated, sail was again made on the ship, and she proceeded on her course. In another three weeks, the mates were seen frequently to ascend into the tops, and the news spread among the crew that the Spanish islands lay not far ahead. The justness of the captain’s reckoning was soon proved; for at daybreak, one morning, land was perceived directly ahead; though still lying, like a patch of low cloud, on the horizon.
A cheer broke from those on deck, as soon as the mate proclaimed that to a certainty it was land they saw, and the watch below came pouring up. Another cheer saluted the captain as he came out from his cabin—a tribute to his seamanship, in thus bringing them straight across the ocean, on a path that no Englishman had ever before sailed.
He, with the two mates, at once ascended to the fore top. From here, as the morning brightened, two other points of land could be seen, far away on either hand.
“We are evidently approaching small islands. This is just what we hoped. My fear was that we might strike Hispaniola, or Porto Rico. When we get nearer land we will lower our topsails, so as not to be so easily made out from the land. Now we will go below, and try and mark off our place on the chart.”
CHAPTER 4
Among The Islands
“Now, let us go through our calculations again,” the captain said when they entered his cabin.
“How long will you be, Captain?” the first mate asked.
“Half an hour, Standing.”
“Then I will come again or, if you want me before that, send for me,” and the first mate went out on deck again, for though well skilled to handle a ship in all weathers, and as brave and hardy a seaman as sailed out of Plymouth, James Standing could neither read nor write; and though in a rough sort of way he could reckon the course a ship should lie, and make allowance for leeway and currents and baffling winds, and could bring a ship into any port in England or the Low Countries, he was of no use in a matter of this kind.
Pengarvan was a good scholar, and Reuben had taught him what he knew of navigation, and always made him keep a log from the time when he first became a mate; at first comparing their calculations every day, and then but once a week; arguing over the allowances each had made for tide and leeway; and sometimes finding to his surprise, on arriving in port, that Pengarvan’s calculations were even nearer to the truth than his own.
This was a great satisfaction to him, for he felt that, if aught should happen to himself when on a voyage, Pengarvan could be trusted to bring the Swan home, as safely and surely as he could himself. Roger had, for the last two years, been going through the same schooling; but as yet he was very far from attaining accuracy, being unwilling to make sufficient allowance for the great leeway that a vessel, in those days, made with the wind abeam.
“Now, Pengarvan,” Reuben said in great glee, “bring out your log book. We have not compared notes since we started, for till we expected to reach land there was no occasion to do so, as our general course was clear enough. Now let us see where you put her.
“And you, too, Roger; let us see what hand you have made of it.
“I went through my calculations yesterday, and I am sure that there is no mistake in the figures. If I am right, this is the island that we see ahead, the one called Samona; while that we see dimly away o
n the port hand is Mariguana. I don’t see, by this map, any land marked that could be that which we see on the starboard hand.
“Now, what do you make of it?”
“I put it more than a degree to the southeast, Captain; and believe that the three islands we see are those marked as the Caicos: the Great Caicos in the center, North and East on either hand.”
“And you, Roger, what do you make of it?”
“According to my calculation, father, we ought to be full two hundred miles from land, and heading straight for Abaco, the northernmost of these islands.”
The captain laughed, and even Pengarvan smiled.
“I fear, Roger, it would be hardly safe to leave the ship in your hands, at present. You are some six hundred miles away from Pengarvan’s islands, and but seventy less from mine.
“Well, Pengarvan, whether you or I be right, we may congratulate ourselves; for we have made a near cast, indeed, seeing that it is eight weeks since we left England, and more than six since we sailed out of sight of Madeira; and that we traversed a sea altogether strange to us, and of whose currents we know nothing. We are both right, to a day, in our reckoning of distance; and neither of us need feel hurt, if the other turns out right, at finding himself but sixty miles out, on a voyage of such length as this.
“I headed for this point because, as I said, we must steer clear of the great islands; which are, as you know, wholly in the possession of the Spaniards, who have dispossessed the inhabitants, and use them as slaves for working the plantations and mines. As you see by the chart, they have no posts in all these islands, running from here northwest, nearly up to the mainland; except a small post at San Salvador. Now we will coast up through these islands, till we get within sight of Columbus Point, at the southerly end of San Salvador; for that was the island, you know, that was first discovered by him in ’92. Then we will strike westward to Andros, and after that shape her course due west. This will take us north of the west end of Cuba, and well out of sight of land; but we must be careful of our navigation, for as you see it is written here:
“‘Small islands, innumerable, scattered among those marked here; these being the principal. Many of these islands are low, and show but little above the water. Sailing is very perilous, and not to be attempted at night.’
“You see, in this course we shall have the advantage of being well out of the ordinary line of passage of the Spaniards, who shape their course more to the southward, make Porto Rico their first landfall, and then have the two great islands, Hispaniola and Cuba, lying straight before them; free, as it seems, by the chart, from any dangers to navigation.
“Roger, from this evening we will compare our log books day by day, so that you may learn where it is that you have gone wrong. But I can guess how it is. The wind is blowing chiefly from the east, and you will never make allowance enough for drift; and I have told you over and over again that, with a light wind on our beam, we drive a mile to leeward for every two we go on our course. There are many ships which will drift nigh a mile for every mile they sail, in light winds. When the wind is brisk, and we are going fast through the water, then we drift but little, not more perhaps than one mile to six or seven.”
“But why is that, father? How is it that a light wind blows us away sideways; and that a strong wind, instead of blowing us more, blows us less?”
“That I cannot tell you, Roger. You must leave those questions for wiser heads to settle. I only know that it is so—of that there is no doubt at all; but why, I have not the least idea.
“How does it strike you, Pengarvan?”
The Cornishman shook his head.
“I have thought it over, Captain, many times. It seems to me, sometimes, that I have a sort of notion why it is; but it is not clear, even to myself. I could not put it into words.”
The first mate now looked into the cabin.
“Here we are, James. Pengarvan puts her here, opposite these three little islands. I put her here some sixty miles away.”
“It matters not at all, that I can see, which it is,” Standing said. “One island is as good as another, so that it has got water and fruit. The tubs are getting low, and the men are beginning to need a change of diet; so I hope, Captain, you will lay her to at the first we come to, and get what we want, whether it is Spaniard or native we have to fight for it.”
“I hope we shall have to fight neither, Standing; but I don’t think we are likely to meet with Spaniards—for all the islands in these groups are small ones, and the navigation dangerous. As for the Indians, I fear we may not find them very friendly, seeing that they will, of course, take us for Spaniards, whom they have little reason to love. Still, when they see that our intentions are peaceable, and that we wish only to trade, they may abate their hostility.”
In three hours they were close to the island that they had first seen, which proved to be much nearer than they had supposed, at first sight. It was low, and thickly covered with trees, and of only a few miles’ circumference.
“There is no chance of finding the natives hostile here,” Reuben Hawkshaw said. “Their numbers can be but scanty, and the only fear is that they may hide themselves in the woods at our approach, and refuse to have dealing with us.
“Get the lead ready to sound, James, and put some grease on the bottom, that we may see what kind of holding ground it is.”
As the sun had risen the wind had fallen, and the Swan was now moving very slowly through the water. They were about a mile from the land when the log was first hove.
“Eighteen fathoms, Captain,” the mate reported, adding when the lead was hauled up, “and a sandy bottom.”
Casting the lead regularly, they sailed on until within little more than a quarter of a mile of the shore, and there dropped anchor in six fathoms of water.
“I shouldn’t like to be caught in a gale here,” the captain said; “but if it did come on to blow, we could get up our anchor and sail round to the other side of the island, where we should be in shelter.”
“There are some natives, father,” Roger, who was watching the shore, exclaimed. “They are waving green branches.”
“Wave a white flag, Roger. Fasten anything white to a boat hook, and wave it. They may understand that, as the white flag is in use by all nations as a sign of peace, and they may have seen the Spaniards use it.
“Get one of the boats lowered, James—the long boat will be the best—let its crew take their arms with them, but lay them under the seats, so as to land in peaceable guise. I myself will go ashore in her, and see what are the intentions of the natives. Get a couple of guns loaded, and if you see they attack us, fire a shot over their heads into the woods. That will be enough to frighten them. However, I think not that we shall have trouble.”
A couple of boxes had already been got on deck by the captain’s orders, and some strings of glass beads, hawk bells, and other articles of trade taken out.
“You can come with me, Roger,” the captain said; and in a few minutes the boat rowed towards the shore.
Eight men sat at the oars, and eight others were bestowed in the bow and stern. She would have carried twice as many, but the captain wished to avoid any show of force.
The group of natives had increased, by the time the boat reached the shore; and the captain saw that they consisted of two men who were apparently chiefs, and some thirty of inferior rank. They continued to wave green branches, and their attitude was so peaceful that the captain did not hesitate to leap ashore, as soon as the boat touched the strand.
“You follow me, Roger; and you others keep your hands on your arms, ready to use them. But sit quiet, and do not show your weapons unless there be occasion.”
The chiefs advanced with a timid air towards the newcomers; and, on approaching, saluted in an attitude of deep humility, using the Spanish word Amigos.
“Amigos—Friends,” repeated the captain, in a cheerful tone.
Roger gazed with intense interest upon these strange beings. They were, in
color, but little darker than the Moors who had tried to capture the Swan, on her last voyage. They were of good height, but of slender figure. Their countenances were soft and almost feminine, with large dark eyes and mild and gentle expression. They had no hair upon their faces; that on their heads was long and black. Round their heads were light gold bands, from which rose plumes of colored feathers. They were naked above the waist, save that over one shoulder cotton cloths, ornamented with fantastic patterns wrought in bright feathers, were lightly thrown.
From the waist they wore cotton petticoats, reaching to the knees. Both had belts decorated by shells, worked into intricate patterns; and from similar belts, crossing the shoulder, hung quivers filled with small arrows. They had necklaces and bracelets of bright beads, of European manufacture; and both carried light spears, their bows hanging from their shoulders.
Their followers were similarly dressed, save that the fillets round their heads, instead of being gold, were strips of skin decorated with shells and beads, and the mantles were of plain cotton.
The captain took from his pouch two necklaces of large blue beads, and presented them to the chiefs, and also gave to each of them a small hatchet. These they received with tokens of gratitude; being specially pleased with the hatchets, which were articles vastly prized by the natives, and rarely bestowed upon them by the Spaniards, who were very chary of presenting the natives with anything that could be used as a weapon.
The captain then made a sign to the natives to approach, and bestowed a necklace of smaller beads upon each. He next called to the sailors, and bade them come ashore, bringing with them only their hangers; for there was no doubt that the natives were friendly.
While they were doing so, four of the natives, at the order of their chiefs, brought forward large baskets; beautifully plaited and, as Roger judged, made of the tender bark of some tree. The chiefs took these from their attendants and, opening them, placed them before the captain with a gesture of humility. They were filled with fruits, all of which were of kinds such as neither Roger, nor his father, had seen before.