In the afternoon we saw smoke rising up
from the shore, when I took charge of a boat's crew, in order to effect
a landing, with our spirits somewhat revived, for I concluded if there
were men on the island there must be water also.
Coming near to the shore, we found it to be a steeply-rising coast,
full of rocks and stones, with a violent surf running. Nevertheless,
two of our men swam ashore, and succeeded in drawing the pinnace close
to the reef, upon which we landed.
We now began our search for water, without, however, finding any, when
we observed coming toward us, from the direction in which we had seen
the smoke, three men creeping on all fours. Their appearance was so
wretched that we began to doubt if they were humans. They made no
sound, apparently being incapable of speech, but they signed to us with
beckoning fingers to approach them. Then they raised themselves upon
their knees, and stretched out their hands to us in mute appeal. They
were white men--some of the Spaniards marooned by Captain Montbar as a
punishment for having stolen our vessel. And, with a shock, I
recognized among them Pedro de Castro, the traitor to whom we owed the
piracy of our ship.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252