"But may we not be forestalled in our news, after all," demanded Alfonzo, "by the vessels from Calicut?"
"No fear of that," replied Botello. "The news from Diu will not reach Calicut for a month, and then it will be too late in the monsoon to dispatch a vessel, even if one were ready. Besides, I have certain information that the viceroy has determined that no dispatches shall be sent home until he can announce the completion of the fort."
"I like not this new route you propose," said Juan. "Why leave the usual course to Melenda?"
"Because we should be in danger of exciting the suspicions of our brethren who now garrison the forts of Melenda, Zanzabar, and Mozambique, and perhaps be detained. No, we will take a more direct course—strike the coast of Africa below Sofalo, and then follow the shore around the Cape of Good Hope."
"And what are we to do for provisions and water, in the mean time?"
"Of provisions we have a store that will last until we reach land, when we can obtain supplies from the natives; as to water, we must go at once upon the shortest possible allowance, and daily pray for rain—St. Francis will aid us. I can show you something that will set your minds easy upon that point."
Botello produced a box from beneath the stern sheets, and opening it, took out with an air of reverence a leaden image of the saint.
"See this," he exclaimed, in a tone of exultation. "It was modelled from the portrait recognized by the aged Moor. Have you not heard of the miracle?—true, you were not at Calicut. Know, then, that a few months since, a native of India was presented to the viceroy, whose reputed age amounted to three hundred years. His story was, that in early youth he encountered an aged man lingering upon the banks of a stream which he was anxious to pass. The youth tendered the support of his strong shoulders, and bore him across the water. As a reward for the service, the old man bade the youth to live until they should meet again. And thus had he lived, until a few months since he was presented to De Cunna, when he at once recognized in a portrait of St. Francis the holy man whom he had carried across the stream. This image was modelled from that portrait; it was blessed by the pious convert in whose person was performed the miracle. Our voyage must be prosperous with this on board."
The sight of an image taken from a portrait acknowledged to be the saint himself, removed all doubt. And what Botello's arguments and persuasions might have failed to accomplish, was easily effected by the little image of lead. A heretic might, perhaps, have questioned the saint's power over the physical phenomena of the sea, but he could not have denied his moral influence over the minds of the adventurous voyageurs who confided in him. No hesitation remained, except in the minds of the four slaves, who, having been forcibly converted from the errors of Mohammed, were yet somewhat weak in the true faith.
It was this want of faith that led to one of the most lamentable events of the voyage. They had been out more than a month without having had sight of land, and not even a distant sail had lighted up the dismal loneliness of the ocean. It must be recollected what a solitude was the vast surface of the Indian and Pacific seas in those days. Beside the Portuguese fleets that followed each other at long and regular intervals, Christian commerce there was none, while Arabian trade was small in amount, and confined to certain narrow channels. The Moorish slaves had never before been so long in the open sea, and their fears increased as day after day the little boat bore them farther to the south. The provisions were also, by this time, nearly exhausted, and the daily allowance of water proved barely sufficient to moisten their parched lips. The slaves, after taking counsel among themselves, demanded that the course of the boat should be arrested.