LEGEND CONTINUED--THE CATASTROPHE.
The moon, which had hitherto been concealed in dense vapour, now
glanced at times through the flying clouds. It was one of those
stormy moons well known in that quarter of the world. She seemed
small, but keen and bright, gilding with whitest silver the ragged
edges of the torn vapour, which fled past with such speed as to give
her literally the aspect of sailing through the sky.
A mournful and moaning sound now came upon the wind which traversed
that dashing sea, and the mariners of Lobiera, who had never looked
on such a scene, nor beheld such lightnings as those that girdled
like a fiery belt the flat summit of the Table Mountain, were
becoming more bewildered and faint of heart, when a cry of dismay
burst from Joam da Coimbra, and now even the resolute Vasco stood
speechless and aghast.
Above the Table Mountain the clouds rapidly rolled themselves into a
denser and darker mass, which assumed the outline of a human figure
that grew in volume while they gazed upon it, until it towered into
the sky, against the moonlit blue of which it was defined with
terrible distinctness.
"The spectre--il demonio del Cabo dos Tormentos!" said each in his
heart, while it continued to tower, with mighty arms outstretched, as
if to clutch the devoted ship, or bury it in the sea that seethed
around this dreadful cape--the great promontory of the southern world.
With one foot planted on Table Mountain, and the other on the Devil's
Hill, with a head that darkened heaven, stood this mighty form, which
appeared to have the power of curbing and of loosening the elements,
for at every wave of its threatening arms the sea increased in
turbulence, and the wind in fury, for the thunder appeared to be his
voice, the lightning the flashes of his eye, the tempest the breath
of his nostrils!
"Madre de Dios--our Lady of Belem!" prayed Dom Vasco.
"Dei genetrix, intercede pro nobis!" was the faint response of his
quailing crew.
"Courage, comrades," he exclaimed; "I have still the blessed banner
which our Lord the King gave me, and it shall yet float above the
storm."
"But the ship has become unmanageable!" cried Joam da Coirabra.
"Nay, say not so--Heaven forefend! _Nossa Senhora da Belem_ is as
gallant a craft as ever came from the woods of Marinha, and she shall
bear us yet to seas beyond the power of this resentful demon!"
Vasco da Lobiera would have said more, but a burst of thunder drowned
every other sound; lightning filled the entire sky with lurid flame;
the wind bellowed, and the blinding rain descended in a solid sheet
upon the trembling sea with such power as almost to still its waves.
He ordered the masts to be cut away; only two of his crew heard the
order, or had the courage to obey it. The rest were crouching in a
group, stupified by despair and fear.
Three blows of a sharp axe were alone required, the tempest did the
rest, and the stately masts with all their yards and gear vanished
alongside. The rudder was torn from its iron bands, and now the
boasted _Lady of Belem_ floated like a log upon the waves, which
incessantly broke over her, washing the crew in succession away. Now
it was that the heart of Vasco da Lobiera began to sink, and he gave
himself up for lost!
In a few minutes more he found himself struggling in the sea, for his
ship was hurled upon the rocky coast and dashed to pieces.
Clutching a piece of wreck, he was tossed up by a vast wave, that
cast him stunned, breathless, helpless and alone, upon the desolate
shore of that terrible promontory; so his holy banner availed him
nothing.
And there he lay as the sea receded, wave after wave continuing to
hiss and roar behind him, as if loth to lose their prey.
* * * * *