THE Admiral took it with some Italian words under breath. Then he
wheeled and left the cabin. 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. Eighteen ships
in harbor, and fifteen, they said, going to Spain, and around and upon
them all bustle of preparation. One saw in fancy Bobadilla and Roldan
and Gwarionex and the much gold, including that piece of virgin ore
weighing five thousand castellanos. Fifteen ships preparing for Spain,
and San Domingo, of which the Adelantado had laid first stone, and a
strange, green, sunset sky. And the _Consolacion_, the _Margarita_, the
Juana and the _San Sebastian_ away to the west, to the sound of music,
for the Admiral cried to our musicians, “Play, play in God’s name!”
Night passed. Morning broke. So light was the wind that the shore went
by slowly. There gathered an impatience. “If we must to Jamaica, what
use in following every curve of Hispaniola that is forbid us?” At noon
the wind almost wholly failed, then after three hours of this rose with
a pouncing suddenness to a good breeze. We rounded a point thronged with
palms. Before us a similar point, and between the two that bent gently
each to the other, slept a deep and narrow bight. “Enter here,” said the
Admiral.
We anchored. There was again a strange sunset, green and gold in the
lower west, but above an arc of clouds dressed in saffron and red. And
now we could hear, though from very far off, a deep and low murmur, and
whether it was the forest or the sea or both we did not know. But now
all the old mariners said there would be storm, and we were glad of the
little bay between the protecting horns. The Admiral named it Bay of
Comfort. The _Consolacion_ _Margarita_, _Juana_, _San Sebastian_, lay
under bare masts, deep within the bight.
The next day, an hour before noon, arrived that king hurricane.
They are known now, these storms of Europe’s west and Asia’s east. Take
all our Mediterranean storms and heap them into one!
Through the day our anchors held in our Bay of Comfort, and we blessed
our Admiral. But at eve the _Margarita_, the _Juana_ and the _San
Sebastian_ lost bottom, feared breaking against the rocky shore and
stood out for sea room. The _Consolacion_ stayed fast, and at dawn was
woe to see nothing at all of the three. In the howling tempest and the
quarter light we knew not if they were sunk or saved.
With the second evening the hurricane sank; at dawn the seas, though
running high, no longer pushed against us like white-maned horses of
Death. We waited till noon, then the sea being less mountainous, quitted
the Bay of Comfort and went to look for the three ships.
The _Juana_ and the _San Sebastian_ we presently sighted and rejoiced
thereat. But the _Margarita_! We saw her nowhere, and the Admiral’s face
grew gray. His son Fernando pressed close to him. “My uncle is a
bold man, and they say the second seaman in the world! Let’s hope and
hope--and hope!”
“Why, aye!” said the Admiral. “I’m a good scholar in hope. I told them
in San Domingo the ship was not seaworthy. What cared they for that?
They were willing that all of my name should drown! God judge between
us!”
The _Juana_ came close and shouted that at eve they had seen the
Adelantado in great trouble, close to shore. Then came down the night
and once or twice they thought they made out a light but they were not
sure.
In this West the weather after a hurricane is weather of heaven. We
coasted in a high sea, but with safety under a sky one sapphire, and
with a right wind,--and suddenly, rounding a palmy headland, we saw the
_Margarita_ riding safe in a little bay like the Bay of Comfort. The
Admiral fell upon his knees.
The _Margarita_ was safe indeed but was so crazed a ship! The _San
Sebastian_, too, was in bad case. Hispaniola truly, but some leagues
from San Domingo, and a small, desert, lonely bay! We rested here
because rest we must, and mended our ships. Days--three days--a week.
The Admiral and the Adelantado kept our people close to the ships.
There was no Indian village, but a party sent to gather fruit found two
Indians biding, watching from a thicket. These, brought to the Admiral,
proved to be from a village between us and San Domingo. They had been in
that town after the hurricane. It had uprooted the great tree before the
Governor’s house and thrown down a part of the church.
“Had the fleet sailed?”
Yes, it seemed. The day before the storm. But these men knew nothing of
its fortunes. He kept the Indians with us until we sailed, so as not to
spread news of where we were, then gave them presents and let them go.
But on the day we set to sail we did not sail, for along the coast
and into our bay came a small caravel, going with men to our fort in
Xaragua. The captain--Ruy Lopez it was--met us as a wonder, San Domingo
having held that the hurricane must have sunk us, the sea swallowed
us up. He anchored, took his boat and came to the Admiral upon the
_Consolacion_.
“Senor, I am glad to see you living!”
“Yes, I live, senor. Are you well in San Domingo?”
“Well in body, but sick at heart because of the fleet.”
“Because of the fleet?”
“The fleet, senor, was a day away when the hurricane burst. Half the
ships were split, lost, sunken! The others, broken, returned to us. One
only went on to Spain. The gold ships are lost. Only, they say, the gold
that pertains to you, goes on safely on that one to Cadiz. Gwarionex the
Indian is drowned, and Bobadilla and Roldan are drowned.”