Only five leagues from port! What an unspeakable comfort! Our miseries seemed ended; ere long we should set foot on terra firma, and though we brought news no doubt of a terrible disaster, we were bringing relief and joy to many faithful souls who were suffering mortal anguish in the belief that those who were returning alive and well had all perished.
The valor of the Spaniards did not avail to rescue any ships but ours, for they were too late and had to return without being able to give chase to the English ships that kept guard over the San Juan, the Bahama, and the San Ildefonso. We were still four leagues from land when we saw them making towards us. A southerly gale was blowing up and it was clear to all on board the Santa Ana that if we did not soon get into port we should have a bad time of it. Once more we were filled with anxiety; once more we lost hope almost in sight of safety, and when a few hours more on the cruel sea would have seen us safe and sound in harbor. Night was coming on black and angry; the sky was covered with dark clouds which seemed to lie on the face of the ocean, and the lurid flashes which lighted them up from time to time added terror to the gloom. The sea waxing in fury every instant, as if it were not yet satiated, raved and roared with hungry rage, demanding more and yet more victims. The remnant of the mighty fleet which a short time since had defied its fury combined with that of the foe was not to escape from the wrath of the angry element which, implacable as an ancient god and pitiless to the last, was as cruel to the victor as to the conquered.
I could read the signs of deep depression in the face not only of my master but of the Admiral, Alava, who, in spite of his wounds, still kept on his feet and signalled to the frigate to make all possible speed; but, instead of responding to his very natural haste, the Themis prepared to shorten sail so as to be able to keep before the gale. I shared the general dismay and could not help reflecting on the irony with which Fate mocks at our surest calculations and best founded hopes, on the swiftness with which she flings us from happy security to the depth of misery. Here we were, on the wide ocean, that majestic emblem of human life. A gust of wind and it is completely transformed, the light ripple which gently caressed the vessel’s side swells into a mountain of water that lashes and beats it, the soft music of the wavelets in a calm turns to a loud, hoarse voice, threatening the frail bark which flings itself into the waters as though its keel were unable to balance it, to rise the next moment buffeted and tossed by the very wave that has lifted it from the abyss. A lovely day ends in a fearful night, or, on the other hand, a radiant moon that illumines an infinite sky and soothes the soul, pales before an angry sun at whose light all nature quakes with dismay.
We had experienced all these viscissitudes, and in addition, those which are the result of the will of man. We had suffered shipwreck in the midst of defeat; after escaping once we had been compelled to fight again, this time with success; and then, when we thought ourselves out of our troubles, when we hailed Cadiz with delight, we were once more at the mercy of the tempest which had treacherously deluded us only to destroy us outright. Such a succession of adverse fortune seemed monstrous—it was like the malignant aberrations of a divinity trying to do all the harm he could devise to us hapless mortals—but it was only the natural course of things at sea, combined with the fortune of war. Given a combination of these two fearful forces and none but an idiot can be astonished at the disasters that must ensue.
Another circumstance contributed to my master’s distress of mind, and to mine too, that evening. Since the rescue of the Santa Ana Malespina had disappeared. At last, after seeking him everywhere, I discovered him lying in a heap on a sofa in the cabin. I went up to him and saw that he was very pale; I spoke to him but he could not answer. He tried to move but fell back gasping.
“Are you wounded?” I asked. “I will fetch some one to attend to you.”
“It is nothing,” he said. “Can you get me some water?”
I went at once for my master.
“What is the matter—this wound in your hand?” said he, examining the young officer.
“It is more than that,” replied Don Rafael sadly, and he put his hand to his right side close by his sword-belt. And, then, as if the effort of pointing out his wound and speaking those few words had been too much for his weakened frame, he closed his eyes and neither spoke nor moved for some minutes.