The whole of the forenoon passed without incident, but just at midday the lookout perceived a man leaping across the rocks by the tree-fringed shore. It was the New England seaman.
Instantly a boat was lowered, and urged by lusty strokes headed straight for the shore. The man had thrown himself into the sea, and we could make out his head and shoulders as from time to time he appeared between the white masses of foam. He was an active and powerful swimmer, and gained the boat in safety, though probably it was well that the breakers had subsided somewhat.
His tale was soon told. Fearing to follow the path from the cove, since the villain might have set a guard there, he made his way through the undergrowth directly towards the centre and highest part of the island. Over and over again he had to attempt a fresh passage, the thickets proving too dense even for his accustomed skill. At length he came across a small stream, which he followed to its source, which afterwards proved to be not far from the spot where our men were surprised.
Here he concealed himself till daybreak, when he found himself practically overlooking the whole island. On the south side, opposite to where we were lying, he espied a cove, off which was anchored a craft which he declared was the same vessel as we had chased, and from which Pedro had thrown himself. Another hour's careful tracking brought him close to the creek, where he saw our comrades being escorted on board by the buccaneers in gangs, twenty-seven all told, so that they were apparently all alive and well. Then he made out a party of men coming down from the hillside, where they had been posted as rearguard, and with them was Pedro. They passed quite close to where he lay hid, and he could swear that Pedro was no more a Portuguese than he was.
Directly this last body of men embarked the sails were shaken out, and the swift buccaneering craft stood seaward. Having made sure that they had all embarked, the man returned by the beaten path, striking the north side of the island at the cove where we had landed. Thence he skirted the shore till we perceived him and sent off a boat.
The officers now debated as to the best course to pursue--whether to follow the buccaneer, which, undermanned as we were, was hazardous and reckless, or to return with all haste to Port Royal, report our loss, and join with the rest of the fleet in the capture of the insolent pirates.
The latter course was decided upon, but again ill fortune looked upon us. A strong southerly wind suddenly sprang up, and, though protected by the outer reef, we were on a lee shore. The master would not attempt to beat out through the gap in the reef, as his knowledge of the passage was none too good, neither could we kedge nor tow the Gannet against the wind. So we had perforce to remain weatherbound for seven long days, knowing full well that the same breeze that kept us prisoners within the reef was bearing the buccaneers away in safety.
When at length the wind veered sufficiently to enable the Gannet to sail close-hauled through the surf-encompassed passage, all plain sail was set, and back to Port Royal we sped.
Four days later the Gannet dropped anchor in the harbour, and with despondent mien the remaining officers went ashore to report the loss of the captain and his men. To their unbounded astonishment and delight they heard that Captain Poynings and his twenty-six companions were alive and well on board the Lizard, man-of-war, then lying off the castle.
Their adventures can best be described in the story that Drake told to me on the evening of the day that they rejoined the Gannet: