"MAROONED."
The expedition moved down its western way, over the track of Columbus.
It had left poor Ruy Faleiro behind--he who had seen the progress of it
all in the fitful light of a disordered vision. He had not relinquished
his own high aims. He hoped to follow Magellan with an expedition of his
own.
The ships were furnished with "castles," fore and aft; they carried gay
pennons and were richly stored. The artillery comprised sixty-two
culverins and smaller ordnance. Five thousand or more pounds of powder
were shut up in the magazines, and a large provision was made for
trading with the natives--looking glasses for women, velvets, knives,
and ivory ornaments, and twenty thousand bells.
Magellan's ship bore a lantern, swung high in the air amid the thickly
corded rigging, which the other ships were to keep in view in the night.
What a history had this lantern! It gleamed out on the night track of a
new world, a pillar of fire that encompassed the earth as in the orbit
of a star.
The fleet had fifteen days of good weather and passed Cape Verde
Islands, running along the African coast.
But the fleet carried with it disloyal hearts. The Portuguese prejudice
against Magellan sailed with it. The Spanish sailors distrusted the
loyalty of Magellan to Spain.
The commander was a man of great heart, chivalrous, and noble, but he
could be firm when there arose an occasion for it.
After leaving Teneriffe Magellan altered his course.
Juan de Carthagena, captain of the San Antonio, "the inspector" and a
spy, demanded of Magellan why he had done so.
"Sir," said Magellan, "you are to follow my flag by day and my lantern
by night, and to ask me no further questions."
Carthagena demanded that Magellan should report his plans to him.
Finding that the Admiral was bent on conducting his own expedition, he
began to act sullenly, and to disobey orders.
Again the captain of the San Antonio demanded of Magellan that he should
communicate his orders in regard to the course of steerage to him. He
did this by virtue of his office as inspector. He showed a very haughty
and disloyal spirit, and if this were not to be checked, the success of
the expedition would be imperilled. He was abetted by Pedro Sanches, a
priest. Magellan saw treason already brewing, and he determined to stamp
it out at once.
He went to Carthagena, and laid his hands on him.
"Captain, you are my prisoner."
The astonished captain cried out to his men:
"Unhand me--seize Magellan!"
Carthagena had been a priest, and he had great personal influence, but
the men did not obey him.
"Lead him to the stocks and secure him there," ordered Magellan.
The order was obeyed. The fallen inspector was committed to the charge
of the Captain of the Victoria, and another officer was given charge of
the San Antonio.
"When we reach land Juan de Carthagena shall be marooned," was the
sentence imposed upon the inspector. A like sentence was imposed upon
Sanches.
It touched the hearts of the crews to hear this sentence. What would
become of the two priests, were it to be executed? Would they fall prey
to the natives, or perhaps win the hearts of the people and be made
chiefs among them?
There was a pilot on board the ship who sympathized with the mutineers,
but who had close lips, Esteban Gormez, of whom we have spoken. Were the
two mutineers to be marooned he would be glad to rescue them.
[Illustration: Night after night the ships followed Magellan's
lantern.]
He had been discontented since the day that his own plans for an
expedition had been superseded by those of Magellan.
His discontentment had grown. He became critical as the fleet sailed on.
Every day reminded him of what he might have done, if he could have only
secured the opportunity.
A disloyal heart in any enterprise is a very perilous influence. A
wooden horse in Troy is more dangerous than an army outside.
Magellan in Gormez had a subtle foe, and that foe was his own
countryman.
This man probably could not brook to see his rival add the domains of
the sea to the crowns of Juana and of Charles, though he himself had
sought to do the same thing. Magnanimous he could not be. Discovery for
the sake of discovery had little meaning for him, but only discovery for
his own advancement and glory.
He became jealous of Mesquita, Magellan's cousin, now master of the
Antonio, who is thought to have advised severe measures to suppress
conspiracy.
Night after night he sat down under the moon and stars, and brooded over
his fancied neglect, and dreamed. Night after night the ships followed
the lantern of Magellan, and the wonders of the sea grew; but to him it
were better that no discoveries should be made than that such
achievements were to go to the glory of Spain through the pilotage of
Magellan.
Discontent grows; jealousy grows as one broods over fancied wrongs, and
sees the prospects of a rival's success. So it was with Gormez. In his
heart he did not wish the expedition to succeed. He was ambitious to
lead such an enterprise himself, which he also did, at last, sailing
along Massachusetts Bay and giving it its first name.
When Gormez had heard that the two disloyal men were to be marooned, his
feelings rose against Magellan. That they deserved their sentence he
well knew, but they were opposed to Magellan, as was his own heart. He
would have been glad to have saved them from the execution of their
sentence, but he did not know how to do it.
"I will rescue them if ever I can," he thought. "This expedition is not
for the glory of Portugal."
The ships sailed on, bearing the two conspirators to some place where
they could be marooned.
Let us turn from this dark scene to one of a more hopeful spirit.
One day, as we may picture the scene, the sea lay unruffled like a
mirror. The ships drifted near each other, and night came on after a
sudden twilight, and the stars seemed like liquid lights shot forth or
let down from some ethereal fountain. The Southern Cross shone so
clearly as to uplift the eyes of the sailors. The ships were becalmed.
Boats began to ply between the ships, and the officers of the Trinity,
Santiago, Victoria, and Concepcion assembled under the awning of the San
Antonio, Mesquita's ship, of one hundred and twenty tons.
Mesquita, as we have said, was a cousin of Magellan, and so the Antonio
seemed a friendly ship.
Magellan sat down by his cousin. The lantern was going out; its force
was spent.
"We must get a new kind of lantern," said Magellan to his cousin, "and a
code of signal lights. We need a lantern that is something more steady
and durable than a faggot of wood."
"I have here a new farol," he continued, the men listening with intent
ears. "Here it is, and I wonder, my sailors, how far your eyes will
follow it."
"All loyal hearts will follow it," said Mesquita, "wherever it may go."
Gormez frowned. His heart was bitter.
There rose up an officer named Del Cano, and stood hat in hand. All eyes
were fixed upon him.
"May it please you, Admiral," he said, "to receive a word from me. I
will follow the new farol wherever it may lead me. I have ceased to
count my own life in this cause."
Gormez frowned again.
"Del Cano," said the Admiral, "I believe in you. You have a true heart.
If I should fall see that this farol goes back to Spain!"
Del Cano bowed.
[Illustration: Arms granted to Sebastian Del Cano, Captain of the
Victoria, the first vessel that circumnavigated the globe.]
Magellan showed the new lantern to the officers. It was made of beaten
reeds that had been soaked in water, and dried in the sun. It would hold
light long, and carry it strongly and steadily.
"All the ships must have these new farols," said he, "and I must teach
you how to signal by them."
He stood up. The moon was rising, and the dusky, purple air became
luminous.
He held the farol in his hand.
"Two lights," he said, "shall mean for the ship to tack.
"Three lights that the sails shall be lowered. Four, that they shall
stop.
"Five lights, or more, that we have discovered land, when the flagship
shall discharge a bombard. Follow my lantern always; you can trust it
wherever it may fare. My farol shall be my star!"
The men sat there long. There sprung up a breeze at last, and the sea
began to ripple in the moon.
Most expeditions that have made successful achievements have carried men
of great hope. Such a man was Del Cano. He was loyal to the heart of
Magellan; and happy is any leader who has such a companion, whose steel
rings true.
Magellan hung out the farol. The sails were spread, and the fleet passed
on over the solitary ocean.
Whither?