Only a small supply of water being taken on board, the fleet sailed from Brava on the 2nd of February, steering a course for the Straits of Magellan. Passing the equator on the 17th, they sailed for sixty-three days out of sight of land.
Drake was not without his troubles: it having been found that Captain Doughty had appropriated to his own use certain presents made by the prisoners, he was superseded by Thomas Drake, the Admiral’s brother. This disgrace appears to have rankled in Mr Doughty’s heart, and caused him to feel a bitter animosity against his former friend and commander. During this long passage the squadron sometimes met with adverse winds and violent storms, when lightnings flashed and terrific claps of thunder rattled above their heads; at others they were long becalmed, suffering from the effects of the sweltering heat of the torrid zone. They were depressed, and would have suffered greatly from the want of water, had they not been able to supply themselves, both before and after crossing the Line, by means of the heavy showers which every day fell, the water being collected in sails and sheets.
When in the tropics they saw, for the first time, shoals of flying-fish of the size of pilchards, chased by bonitos and dolphins, or “dorados,” as the Spaniards called them. Also, as they watched the flying-fish trying to escape from their foes in the water, they observed huge birds pounce down and seize the helpless fugitives. Cuttle-fish likewise—strange, black creatures—leapt on board the ships in considerable numbers. These and other novel sights did not fail to interest them. On the 5th of April they sighted the coast of Brazil, where the land was low, and, sounding, they found only twelve fathoms three leagues off the shore. Huge fires were observed, kindled by the inhabitants. The Portuguese had before this landed on the coast, and reduced the natives to a miserable stage of bondage, compelling them by their cruelty to fly from the fertile parts of the country into the more unfruitful districts.
Drake wished to go on shore, but, finding no harbour, the squadron coasted along until the 7th of April, when a terrible storm of wind from the southward rose, during which the Christopher was separated from the rest of the fleet. She was the caunter taken at Blanco, on which the name of Christopher was bestowed when the vessel originally so-called was given to the prisoners. After the squall, which lasted only three hours, the squadron continued beating to the southward, until they got off the Rio de la Plata, up which they ran until they came to an anchor under Cape Joy. Drake so-called it from the satisfaction he felt at seeing the Christopher come in two days after they had anchored, he having thoughtfully appointed it as a rendezvous, should any of the vessels be separated.
Among the principal of his subordinate objects was to keep the fleet together, to obtain good drinking-water and fresh provisions as often as possible. They found the climate delicious, and saw a number of large deer. Considerably higher up the river they anchored near some rocks, where they killed a large number of seals, or sea-wolves, as the Spaniards called them. They found their flesh wholesome and pleasant, and salted a number for their further use.
Having spent a fortnight in the River Plate, they again put to sea, when shortly afterwards the fly-boat Swan was lost sight of. In order to save the inconvenience of so many vessels to look after, Drake determined to lessen their number, that the crews of those remaining might be strengthened and have less duty to perform. Winter was coming on, and, in order to prepare for it, a convenient harbour was searched for. While examining the coast, on May 8th, during another storm, the caunter was again separated from the fleet. The ships being much tossed about, they stood in with the intention of coming to an anchor near a headland, off which many rocks were observed. Drake, who never trusted to other men when he could perform the work himself, despising danger and toil, had a boat lowered, and rowed in himself to examine the bay.
Approaching the shore, a native was seen singing and dancing, and shaking a rattle, expecting him to land. Suddenly the wind still further increased, while a thick fog coming on, the Admiral lost sight of his ships. He immediately pulled off to try and regain them, but would very probably have been lost in the heavy sea running, had not Captain Thomas of the Marigold, at great risk, stood in, and having taken him on board, bravely rode out the gale.
Next morning the weather cleared, but the rest of the ships were nowhere visible; the Admiral, therefore, landing, lighted up large signal-fires in the hopes of their being seen by the ships. The natives had fled up the country for fear of the strangers. The seamen found, however, in their huts near the shore the flesh of upwards of fifty ostriches cured, as well of that of other birds, the size of the former being equal to legs of mutton. They discovered also the device by which the ostriches were captured. This consisted of the head, neck, and plumage of the bird fixed to the end of a pole, with large feathers sticking out behind sufficient to conceal a man’s body. With these the ostriches were stalked and driven either into some neck of land, or against large and strong nets, with the assistance of dogs.
The dispersed ships, seeing the fires, shortly came to an anchor, excepting the Swan and the Mary, the Portugal prize, which had parted company. This not being a convenient place, the squadron sailed on the 15th of May, and on the 17th anchored in a sheltered bay, where they remained fifteen days. Having made various necessary arrangements, the Admiral sailed northwards to look out for the Swan, and dispatched Captain Winter in the Elizabeth for the same object. She was fortunately soon discovered, and being brought back, was unladen and run on shore, when she was broken up, her ironwork and planking being distributed among the ships, the latter to be used as fuel and other purposes.
While the crews were thus employed, the natives made their appearance on the top of a hill, leaping, dancing, and holding up their hands, and crying out in a curious fashion. With the exception of a skin of fur cast about their shoulders, they were naked. Their bodies were painted, and the chiefs wore feathers in their hair, which looked at a distance like horns.