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.
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