“Why, how now, Job Goddard,” I laughed—for the ship was pitching—“is this your maiden voyage?”
But Goddard only bent the further forward, and the bowmen laughed the more. At this I feared ’twas serious, for Goddard was no man to be laughed at by any Frenchman.
I went over to him and clapped my hand upon his shoulder. “Chut, man,” said I half angrily, “what is it? Speak up!”
And with that he turned toward me the sorriest look and wryest face I have ever beheld upon mortal man. But he made no sign that he heard me or indeed that he was aware of my presence, only gripping his middle and groaning the louder. I made a shrewd guess that ’twas no vital sickness that had come upon him, and remembering how I had once before seen a man cured of some such an ailment, without further ado I fetched him a resounding whack upon the thigh.
I had not counted upon so speedy a recovery, for I had scarce time to spring behind him when he flew into the air and in the very thick of the Frenchmen—striking this way and that with feet and hands, until two of the arquebusiers measured their length upon the floor and the rest of them were flying in all directions before the fury of his onslaught. Unable longer to restrain myself I burst into a fit of laughter, which even my sense of authority could not withhold.
It was not until then that Goddard espied me. His countenance fell and he looked around him as though to gather his wits. But in a moment he walked over to his sea-chest, and I saw that he had been sucking upon one of these tobacco reeds which Vasseur had described to me. He looked at the packet and bowl a moment stupidly and then, with a sudden motion, dashed them upon the deck, where they broke into a hundred pieces.
Then and not until then would he speak.
“Blow me, sir,” said he, “if I bean’t sick at me stomick.” The expression of his face at this unaccustomed sensation was so comical that I could not blame the Frenchmen, and I laughed as loud as the best of them.
The next morning when within but two leagues of San Augustin the wind fell again to the same dead, sluggish calm of the day before, and we could make no progress; but plain to the naked eye behind the sand spit at the entrance showed the vessels of the Spaniards, where they had anchored to receive us.
The weather by now was growing thicker and thicker, and in an hour we saw that a squall would strike us. We had barely time to get our canvas in when down it came with great force and away we rode trying to bear up against it. Close as we hauled we could not get to the harbor and give battle; and so the Admiral, seeing that some of the smaller vessels would be blown ashore, signaled for all to follow, and under storm-sails stood off until the tempest should abate. Had we held on so close to that lee shore some of our vessels must surely have fallen into the hands of the Spaniards.