Men grew large-eyed. If we slept came a shriek and wakened us. We
would
put to land, but the wind turned and thrust us out again,
or we found no harbor. We seemed to be fixed in one place
while time rushed by us.
Forecastle began to say, "It is enchantment!" Presently poop echoed it. The boy Fernando brought it to his
father. "Alonso de Zamorra and Bernardo the Apothecary
say that demons and witches are against us."
"The Prince of the Power of the Air!" said the Admiral.
"It may be, child! Paynimry against Christianity.
We had a touch of the same quality once off Cuba. But
is it, or is it not, Christian men shall win! And send me
Bartholomew Fiesco. Such talk is injury. It bores men's
courage worse than the _teredo_ a ship's bottom!"
We thought the foul weather would never cease, and our
toil would never cease--then lo! at the point of despair
the sky cleared with a great clap of light, the coast turned
sharply, sheerly south--he named the great cape, Cape
Gracias a Dios--and we ran freely, West again.
Coming in three days to a wide river mouth, in we turned.
The shore was grown with reeds that would do for giants'
staffs. On mud banks we saw the crocodile, "cayman"
they call it. Again the sky hung a low, gray roof; a thin
wind whistled, but for all that it was deathly hot. Seeing
no men, we sent two boats with Diego Mendez up the stream.
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