Following the W.N.W. course, on the 3rd of February, the Captain put out a flag on the topmast for the ships to close and the pilots to report in what latitude they were, how many leagues from Lima, the observations the ships had taken respecting lee-way, winds, and the variation of the needle, also the bearing of the islands of Las Marquesas de Mendoza. The ships closed, and the pilots said that, owing to the clouds, they had not been able to take the sun for three days; that they thought Las Marquesas de Mendoza bore N.N.E.; and that after they had got the sun’s meridian altitude they could make a more formal report.
While this was going on land was sighted to the west, which, being concealed by clouds, was near; and as it was late, all sails were set. Night came on, and, having gone a short distance, a dark and thick cloud rose in the north-east in three parts, which soon became one, and made its way towards the ships with such speed and fury that all began to seek for remedies against the evils that menaced them. The ships, trembling, received the force of the storm, and went over on their sides. The sea rose, and all were horrified. The lightning in the air seemed to rend the heavens and blind the sight. Three thunderbolts were heard to fall; the thunder was awful, the pouring rain terrible, and the squalls of wind so violent that it seemed as if the least damage would be the fall of the masts. The launch being close to, her Pilot shouted in a hoarse voice: “The Capitana ahoy! Alter course—ahoy! Luff up!” All was confusion, hurry, and noise. The night was fearful, decision doubtful, and great the anxiety to know whether the position of the ships was safe.
Our Father Commissary, with a cross in his hands, passed the whole night conjuring the sea and winds. St. Elmo appeared, as the sailors say, which they saluted with great devotion three times. In short, it was a dark, confused, ugly, and long night which we passed, confiding, after God, in the soundness of our ships and the stoutness of our sailors. When the long-wished-for daylight came, we saw that our land was an island surrounded by a reef. Neither port nor bottom could be found, though sought for with care, as we were in want of water, and for fuel we only had brushwood. Seeing that the island was so useless, we left it for what it was; and, considering the night it had given us, it would have been dear even if it had been a very good land instead of a very bad one. This island was calculated to be 1,030 leagues from Lima, 36 leagues round, in latitude 20° 30′. It was named St. Elmo.
Chapter VIII.
Four other desert islands are sighted, and what else happened.
Steering W.N.W., on the following day, we sighted an island about 6 leagues off, and presently another, and then two more, and at none of the four was there bottom or port. There are reefs and shoals almost continuous. The distance from one to the other was four or five leagues, and from the City of the Kings 1,050. Their latitude is 20°, and they were named Las cuarto coronadas.[1]
The Captain, considering that on all these seven newly-discovered islands neither a port nor water could be found, and finding that there were fewer water-jars than he ordered to be embarked, he made some discourses with respect to the time and the present state of affairs, and deemed it necessary to reduce, as he did reduce, the allowance of water. Twelve or fifteen jars of water that were consumed each day he reduced to three or four jars. He was present when it was served out, saw the hatchway closed, and kept the keys.
Presently he ordered a brick oven to be built over one of the hearths, in order to make sweet water from sea water, with a copper instrument he had with him, by means of distillation. They got two or three jars full every day, very good and wholesome. On the least productive day there was a jar and a-half, and altogether fifty jars. This invention, with certain improvements, promises, with little expenditure of fuel, to turn out in fifteen hours eight, nine, and ten jars of fresh water, and more if it is necessary.[2]
This was Ash Wednesday. Our Father Commissary gave ashes to every person on board the ship. The course was W.N.W., and at a distance of 75 leagues from the four isles astern we sighted another small island to the N.E., but could not approach owing to being to windward. We judged its latitude to be 18° 30′. It received the name of San Miguel. Owing to threatening weather and darkness, we were hove to this night with all the ships.