One of them, who seems to lead the minds of the others, is whittling, and after a long silence says:
"We do not know where we are going, and wherever we are going, we are Portuguese and are slaves to Spain."
"Ay, ay," returned an old Portuguese sailor, "and when we go back again, should that ever be, the profit to us will be little at the India House."
"Right," answered a number of voices, and one ventured to say:
"Magellan, after all, may be mad, like his old companion, the astronomer. Both came from the same place in Portugal."
Some of the officers had schemes of their own.
But the ships crept on and on, along the Brazilian coast, where the flag of Spain and the farol guided them in the track of the Admiral they followed. Night after night the lantern of the flagship gleamed in the air, moving toward cooler waters under the Southern Cross.
And in Magellan's heart was a single purpose, and he anticipated the joy of a great discovery, as a revelation that would answer the prophetic light that shone like a star in his own spiritual vision. On, and on!