A minute
later I heard the master from the _Consolacion_ hail the
_Margarita_ that lay close by. "_Margarita_, ahoy! Orders!
Clap on sail and follow!" The trumpet cried to the Juana
and the _San Sebastian_, "Make ready and follow!"
Our mariners ran to make sail. But the long boat waited
for some final word that they said was going ashore. Terreros
would take it. We were so close that we saw the
yet watching crowd, wharf and water side, and the sun
glinting upon Ovando's order-keeping soldiery. The Admiral
called me to him. I read the letter to the Governor,
Terreros would deliver to our old officer, probably waiting
on the wharf to see us quite away. The letter--there
was naught in it but the sincerest, gravest warning that a
hurricane was at hand. A great one; he knew the signs.
It might strike this shore late to-morrow or the next day
or the next. Wherefore he begged his Excellency the Governor
to tarry the fleet's sailing. Let it wait at least three
days and see if his words came not true! Else there would
be scattering of ships and destruction--and he rested his
Excellency's servant. _El Almirante_.
Terreros went, delivered that letter, and returned to the
_Juana_. And our sails were made and our anchors lifted, and
it was sunset and clear and smooth, and every palm frond
of San Domingo showed.
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