Upon a fine May morning in the year 1585, a Spanish vessel lay at anchor in the Port of St. Jago, in the island of Cuba. She was about to sail for Cadiz, the passengers were on board, and the sailors at their several stations, awaiting the word of command. The captain, a small, tight-built, shrewd-looking man, with the voice and manner of a naval officer, which, indeed, he had formerly been, was brave and experienced, and although somewhat wild and daring, he was a good fellow at heart, but now and then violent and headstrong to a fault, in short, Captain Perez was the terror of his men.
He was walking the deck with rapid strides, and exhibiting the greatest impatience, now stopping to observe the direction of the wind, and casting a glance at the shore, then resuming his walk with a preliminary stamp of disappointment and vexation; no one, in the meanwhile, daring to ask why he delayed getting under way.
At length strains of church music at a distance are heard on board the vessel, and all eyes are directed to the shore. A long procession of monks, holding crosses and lighted wax tapers, and singing, is seen approaching the beach opposite the vessel. The procession moves slowly and solemnly to the cadence of the music. Between two rows of monks dressed in deep black is a coffin richly decorated with all the symbols of the Catholic faith, and covered with garlands and chaplets, and, what is singular, the coffin is carried with difficulty by six stout negroes. Four venerable Jesuits support the corners of the pall, and, immediately behind the coffin, walks alone, with a grave and dignified step, the Right Reverend Father Antonio, superior of the Jesuit missionaries of the island of Cuba. An immense crowd of citizens, the garrison of the island, and the military and civil authorities, piously form the escort.
Suddenly the singing ceases, the procession halts, the coffin is placed on elevated supporters. Father Antonio approaches it, and, kissing the pall with reverence, exclaims, with a solemnity befitting the occasion,
"Adieu! Saint Escarpacio, thou worthy model of our order, adieu! In separating myself from thy holy remains, I fulfil thy last wishes; may they piously repose in our happy Spain, and may thy saintly vows and aspirations be thus accomplished. But before their departure from our shores, we conjure thee, holy saint, to look down from thy holy place of rest in heaven, and deign to bless this people, and us, thy mourning friends on earth."
The whole assembly then knelt upon the ground, after which the negroes, resuming their heavy burden, carried it on board a boat, closely followed by Father Antonio. With vigorous rowing the boat soon reached the vessel's side, and the coffin was hoisted on board.
"You are very late, reverend father," said Captain Perez, "and you know wind and tide wait for no man. I ought to have been far on my way long before this hour."
"We could not get ready sooner, my son," the holy father replied, "but fear not, God will reward you for the delay, and these precious remains will speed you on your voyage. I hope you have made your own private cabin, as you promised, worthy of their reception?"
"Yes, certainly, I have."
"You must not for a moment lose sight of the coffin."