Rather than undergo the shame of being sent home, or to endure the wretched fate which would have been his lot among the savages—some days being allowed him to decide—he resolved, after fully acknowledging his guilt, notwithstanding the persuasions of his friends to the contrary, to select the first alternative offered, desiring only that he might take the communion with the Admiral, as a token that he died at peace with him and all men.
Strange as it may seem, the sacred ordinance having been celebrated by Mr Francis Fletcher, the preacher and pastor of the fleet, he dined at the same table as the Admiral, both appearing cheerful and drinking to each other as if only some journey had been in contemplation.
After dinner he was led forth, and entreating those around to pray for him, he kneeled down and bade the executioner perform his office.
The stern justice meted out on a gentlemen and an officer who had hitherto been highly esteemed, had no doubt a great effect in deterring others who might have contemplated any mutinous proceedings. He was taken on shore and buried where Don Luis de Mendoza was supposed to lie—in a grave close to those of Mr Winter and the gunner.
This painful duty performed, and other matters arranged, the Mary, the Portuguese prize, being in a leaky state, she was run on shore near the island on which, for the two months of their stay, their tents had been pitched.
Here her planks were stripped off, and divided amongst the other three ships, which now constituted the whole squadron, besides the pinnaces which were still on board.
Having wooded, watered, and thoroughly repaired their vessels, the explorers sailed from this “Port Accursed,” as some of the seamen called it, on the 17th of August, and again steered southward.
On the 20th they came off the Cabo de las Virgines, as the Spaniards called the entrance to the Magellan Straits. About four leagues off it had the appearance of black rocks full of grey stars, against which the sea beat like the spouting of whales. At this cape the Admiral ordered the ships to lower their topsails on the bunt, in homage to the Queen’s Majesty; and he here changed the name of his ship, the Pelican, to that of the Golden Hind, in compliment to his patron Sir Christopher Hatton, whose coat of arms bore a golden hind. A sermon being preached by the chaplain, Master Fletcher, and prayer being offered up, the squadron entered the straits, passing along which, with land in sight on both sides, they in a short time made their way through a narrow channel, with a strong wind blowing astern. They then passed through
a broad expanse. The following night they saw a lofty island to the southward, which appeared to burn like that of the island of Fogo. The tides as they passed on rose and fell regularly, the difference between high and low water being upwards of five fathoms.