“What do you make of it, Roger?” shouted Cavendish, for it was Roger’s sharp eyes that had caught the first glimpse of the unexpected land as he was aloft straining his eyes in a search for the raking masts of José Leirya’s craft.
“Well, sir,” responded the boy, “it is an island of some kind, a very small one, and lying low in the water. I can make out what I take to be a few trees, probably palms, and I think—nay, I am quite sure now—that I can see a thin column of smoke rising from about the centre of the island.”
“In that case,” said Cavendish, turning to Leigh, who was standing at his elbow trying to catch sight of the land from the level of the deck, “there is evidently a human being on that island who has seen the sails of our fleet, and wishes to attract our attention and be taken off. I suspect there has been a shipwreck there, and very likely there may be more than one man. Now, I should not at all object to find and take off a whole crew of shipwrecked seamen—provided that they were English,—for what with our fight with the Spaniards, that brush with the savages, and sickness, we have had our crews thinned down very considerably. God grant that they be not Spaniards; for if they are, and are in distress there, I must take them off in common humanity—though, were we in like case, I doubt if they would do the same for us,—and then I shall have my vessels again lumbered up with a lot of useless fellows until I can land them somewhere. Moreover, that same landing will be very difficult now, for we shall not be likely to find down here another place which will serve our purpose so well as did the Careenage, all these islands and land hereabouts being already occupied by Spaniards, and we should be running our own heads into danger in attempting to get rid of them. Mr Leigh, be good enough to work out our dead-reckoning up to this hour, and let us see exactly where we are on the chart, for there is no island or land of any description marked where we are at present sailing.”
Leigh did as the captain had ordered him, and found that the ships were at that moment in longitude 73 degrees west and latitude 15 degrees North; so that, going by the chart, there ought not to be any land in sight for several days at least.
“This particular part of the Caribbean Sea, sir, is not very greatly frequented by English ships,” said Leigh in explanation; “but the Spaniards, no doubt, know these waters well, and yonder island may perhaps be laid down on one of their charts.”
“Very possibly,” answered the skipper; “but we have no Spanish charts. The next Spaniard we capture, however, we will search for her charts, which will certainly be of the utmost use to us.”
During the foregoing conversation Roger had come down from aloft to report still further to the captain, and he had overheard the last remark, which immediately reminded him that he had brought certain charts away from the cabin of the Gloria del Mundo; in fact, Harry and he had found their cipher concealed in the folds of one of them. He had intended to give them to his captain, but subsequent stirring events had driven the idea out of his mind.
Having now recollected them, however, he explained the matter to Cavendish, and asked if he should bring the charts up on deck.
“By all means,” replied the skipper; “let us have them at once, Trevose, my man.”
Roger dived below, and soon reappeared with the charts under his arm. They were immediately spread open on the deck and overhauled, and all were found to be of the utmost importance; some papers also being found among them giving the bearings and soundings of certain secret channels leading to ports on the South American coast. There were also found plans of towns and fortresses that would prove of inestimable value to them. These last were forthwith placed in safety for future reference, and a chart was presently discovered showing that particular portion of the ocean upon which they were now sailing; and, sure enough, there was a small island marked in the precise spot occupied by the one for which they were heading. There was, in ink, a description of the island—written, of course, in Spanish,—setting forth that it had been named “Isla de Corsarios”, and that it was, according to English measurements, two and a half miles long by one mile broad; also that it was uninhabited. The description, written as a marginal note, further stated that there was a spring of fresh water on the island, and that there were palm-trees thereon; that the islet was of sandy soil, and supported no vegetation beyond the few palms mentioned.