At length we were once more in four fathoms of water, then in five; but still I did not feel that we were clear of danger; there might be other reefs running across from the island to the main which might bring us up. I however began to breathe more freely, and the faces of my officers wore a more satisfied expression. Still we had many a turn and twist to make, but with a leading wind we had little difficulty in doing this. “Breakers ahead!” sang out Grampus from forward.
“Starboard the helm,” was my reply.
“Starboard it is,” cried the man at the wheel.
“Breakers on the larboard bow!”
“Port the helm.”
“Port it is,” was heard along the deck, and so we glided by danger after danger till all were passed, and I breathed freely at finding the ship at length clear of the island. I then once more hauled in for the land to try and ascertain our situation; but the weather came on so thick again with heavy squalls that I was compelled very soon to stand off once more, still ignorant of where we were.
My difficulties were not over. At 5 p.m. the mizen-yard was carried away in a heavy squall, though happily no lives were lost by the accident. While we were endeavouring to repair the damage it fell a stark calm, and the old galleon began to roll away awfully in the swell. I at once ordered the lead to be hove, for I knew that there were treacherous currents hereabouts.
I had soon proof of this. The first cast gave us thirteen fathoms; very soon we had ten, eight, and so on, till we shoaled the water to five fathoms. I guessed that we should very soon be on shore if this continued, so I saw that I must resort to the only alternative of anchoring, a dangerous proceeding in the uncertain weather we were having. Still I held on as long as I could, and hoped for a slant of wind to enable me to beat off. My hopes were in vain. It was near midnight, when a heavier gust than we had yet had struck the ship, and soon the man with the lead gave notice that we had shoaled our water to three fathoms. Not a moment was to be lost, so I gave orders to clew up all our canvas and to let go the best bow anchor. This was done without delay. Our cable held on, but I soon discovered that a strong current was setting past us to the east-south-east, at the rate of three knots an hour, which, should our anchor not hold, would very soon send us on shore.
I at last began to feel as if my anxiety would break me down, as all the dangers with which we were surrounded were brought to my thoughts. We had a dark night, a heavy gale of wind, a lee-shore, a strong current, untried and probably not over-good ground tackle, and a great uncertainty as to our position. Added to this, I had under my command a vessel worth four hundred thousand pounds, and between thirty and forty lives entrusted to my care. Our anchor held, but not without dragging slightly. Anxiously I walked the deck and waited for break of day. I thought it would never come. It did at last, however, and revealed a sight sufficient to make the stoutest heart quake. Scarcely more than a cable’s length from the ship appeared a ledge of rocks over which the waves were washing with sullen roars, while the log hove overboard showed me that there was a strong current setting towards a high rocky bluff land dead to leeward of us. Towards it the ship was surely though slowly dragging her anchor. One thing only could save us. We must without delay get sail on her. We tried to weigh the anchor, but soon abandoned the attempt as hopeless. I called the officers round me, in a few words explained our position, then sent every man to his station. Nol Grampus stood, axe in hand, ready to cut the cable as I gave the word. Two good hands were at the helm. The men were aloft, ready to loose sails. I waited till the ship’s head tended off the land, then at a wave of my hand the sails were let fall and sheeted home, down came old Nol’s gleaming axe, the end of the cable disappeared through the hawse-hole, the sails filled, and away glided the big ship from the threatening rocks. Still she was not free from danger. I held my breath, as did every seaman on board, as we gazed at the bluff land it was necessary to weather. The current set strongly towards it, a shift of wind might yet cast away the ship. Down she seemed settling towards it. We were doing our utmost to avoid the danger; we could not carry more sail, the ship was kept as close as possible to the wind. Still we had already escaped so many dangers before that I hoped we might this. Higher grew the land frowning above us, nearer appeared the breakers. In ten minutes I saw that our fate would be decided. The wind remained steady. None of our gear gave way. The surf broke under our lee as we glided by; we were safe; and once more reducing sail we stood out to sea. We, however, were still in far from a pleasant position, or rather, we could not tell in what position we were, and had every reason to believe it a bad one. Various were the opinions broached on board as to our whereabouts. Some thought we were in the Bay of Dulce; others that the point we had just weathered was Point Manwick; while the Spanish prisoners affirmed that we were certainly down in the bottom of the Gulf of Honduras. I could scarcely believe that the currents and gales we had encountered, strong as they were, could in so short a time have drifted us so far out of our course. As the day drew on the weather moderated, and the mists clearing away, we found ourselves surrounded by a number of rocks and islands. The Spaniards nodded their heads and affirmed that they were right in their assertions. Fortunately the sun came out to settle the question. I was able to take two altitudes, and found that we were abreast of the Island of Rattan. Not long after this I got a sight of Truxillo Bay, the place the commodore had appointed for the rendezvous. I accordingly ran in and anchored there at six o’clock, hoping to find the rest of the squadron in the place, but, much to my disappointment and surprise, not another ship was to be seen. This being the case, I had to examine my officers, to ascertain what I was next to do. Much to my satisfaction I found that I was forthwith to proceed home to Falmouth, and, having reported my arrival to the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, to await their further orders. In consequence of this I immediately proceeded to wood and water the ship. This was a long and tedious operation, for having lost all our boats one after the other in the gale, I was obliged to employ a couple of very frail canoes. I persevered, however, and by working hard managed to make progress in the task. While some of the crew were on shore cutting wood and filling the casks, others were employed in towing them off in the canoes, which were likewise laden with wood. Though I worked myself, for the purpose of setting an example, I found time to make an excursion or two a little way into the interior. I was accompanied by Martin, one of my master’s mates, and a great friend of mine. We took our guns with us and my dog Omoa, who had now become much attached to me. The shores of this bay of Truxillo are wild and desolate in the extreme. Nature here revels in perfect freedom, and gigantic trees of all sorts tower up on every side. It is a long way from any inhabited place; I had heard, however, that the Spaniards once had a settlement here of considerable size, but it having been attacked by the buccaneers and Indians, about a hundred years ago, they were compelled entirely to abandon it; since which time nature had resumed her original sway over the territory, and as we wandered through the forest not a sign of human life or human industry did we for a long time perceive. At length, however, landing one day at a different part of the bay to that which we had before explored, about a quarter of a mile from the beach, we came suddenly upon a high-built wall. A little farther on we found ourselves walking over what had evidently been a paved street of great length and breadth. In another minute we found ourselves with the walls of houses on either side of us, the vast trees growing out from among them and forming a sheltering roof with their boughs, showing for how long a period they must have been deserted. There were churches too, which we discovered to be such by their construction and the massiveness of their walls; many of them of considerable size, and built of well-burnt bricks. Altogether we were struck by the elegance and substantial appearance of the different buildings, so superior to those of modern architecture, and which convinced us that we were standing in the midst of a once magnificent and wealthy city. Its wealth had proved its destruction, and now, like many of the cities of the ancient world, it had become the habitation alone of the wild beast of the forest, the birds of the air, and the reptiles which creep on the earth. I cannot properly describe my sensations as I stood in the midst of that abandoned city; the scene was so unusual and curious, there was so much beauty and elegance even in the masses of ruins, and still more in the trees and shrubs which had taken possession of these walls, once the abodes of men engaged in all the active pursuits of life. I could not help picturing to myself what it must have been like; what scenes were going on within it, such as are enacted in most cities in the present day, when sudden destruction overtook it. I learned a lesson, I drew a moral, and I received a warning from the fate it told, from which I trust my readers will profit likewise.