"Then is it a most unhappy condition," answered Tasquanto, "and the medicine-men are liars."
After a few hours on deck our lads were again driven into the darkness and foulness of the hold; but on every pleasant day thereafter for weeks was the process of bringing them on deck for an airing repeated. In times of storm they were kept below, with their sufferings immeasurably increased by sickness, by the violent pitching of the ship, by lack of food and water, and by terrors of the creakings and groanings that filled the surrounding blackness.
For more than a month did they thus suffer, hopeless of ever again sighting land or of any relief from their unhappy situation. Then, to Nahma at least, came the worst of all. One day, while they were on deck, he suddenly lifted his head and sniffed the air.
"It is a breath of earth," he whispered, as though fearful of uttering the glad news aloud. "I can smell it. Oh, my brother! to once more gain the freedom of a forest would be a happiness exceeding any other. Let us be ready on the morrow when we are again brought into the light. It may be that we shall be near enough to swim to the land. Once within cover of the forest we would never again look upon the face of a white man."
About this time they were sent below, but that faint scent of land not yet distinguished by any other on the ship had infused them with a new hope, and for hours they talked of what might be done on the morrow.
In the mean time their ship was so near the English coast that twenty-four hours later she lay at anchor in the harbor of Plymouth and her small boat was ready to go ashore.
"Fetch me the heathen desired by Sir Ferdinando," ordered Captain Dermer.
"Which one, sir?"
"Either will do. Call them up and take the first that shows a head. Drive the other back, and keep him below until my return."
"Aye, aye, sir."