And here it may not be amiss to tell that my dear lady, before joining this company of men, had taken occasion to change her stripling's dress for the gown we had carried down with us, for now there was no longer necessity for her to penetrate the thick woods, exposing herself to brier and bramble, and she would no more appear in a dress unbecoming to her sex.
We had been descending the river best part of three weeks, when Pennyfarden assured us we were nearing an island whereon, to lighten their boats (in order to make better head against the stream), they had left some of their stores under a tent made of a lug-sail; and soon after this, a joyful shout from the company in that boat that led the way signified that the island was in sight.
"Now," says friend Matthew—"now shall we be all able to dress ourselves decently, and return to Sir Bartlemy like Christians, for amongst the stores is a chest of excellent buff jerkins and sea-boots."
Presently, coming up to this island, where the seamen were already landed, we found them wandering about in great vexation and trouble, for the tent had been torn down, and they could find none of their stores, save an empty barrel and the charred end of their chest, which had been broken up for firewood.
At first we set it down that the Ingas had been there; but Pennyfarden, casting his eyes about that part where the empty barrel lay, shook his head ruefully, and declared that they had no hand in this business.
"Pray how can you tell that?" says I.
"Why, look you, master," says he, stooping down and picking up three or four long iron nails that lay scattered in the herb, "no Inga would have wantonly cast these away, for he prizes them more than all the gold and precious stones by which we set such store. And they have not been overlooked or dropped by accident, for they were bound up in paper, and lay at the bottom of the barrel; and, see, they are scattered broadcast around us—scattered by those who themselves had no need of such things, and were meanly minded that no one else should profit by them—wanton waste and devilry that the worst Inga would not be guilty of. I do sadly fear that this is the work of mad sailors; what say you, Master Palmer?" adds he, addressing an old seaman who had joined us.
"Like enough—like enough," says Palmer dismally; "and if it be as you suppose, then Heaven help us all. For," adds he, after a long-drawn sigh, "none of our ship-mates would thus destroy and waste our stores unless he had mutinied against our captain, and sought to bring grief by our undoing."
The rest of our company, coming up, joined in this opinion, and one cried that there was no hope left us. But my lady, who was ever quick to spy a comforting gleam where none saw aught but dismal clouds, told them they did wrong to despond so readily, "for," says she, "if some of the men have rebelled, 'tis clear they have gained but little by it, or they would not have come hither."
"You are in the right of it, madam," says Palmer. "If they mutinied, 'twas because they would no longer lie at the mouth of the Oronoque, awaiting our return; and had they succeeded in overcoming our good captain, they would at once have set sail and gone hence."