its holding communication with no one but the admiral, and its sudden disappearance in the night. Had it been a real caraval, said he, the crew would have sought to converse with their countrymen ; the admiral, his son, and brother, would have eagerly embarked on board; at any rate, it would have remained a little while in port, and not have vanished so suddenly and mysteriously.

By these and similar delusions Porras succeeded in working upon the feelings and credulity of his followers; and persuaded them that, if they persisted in their rebellion, they would ultimately triumph, and perhaps send home the admiral in irons, as had once before been done from Hispaniola. To involve them beyond hope of pardon, he marched them one day towards the harbour, with an intention of seizing upon the stores remaining in the wreck, and getting the admiral in his power.

Columbus heard of their approach, but being confined by his infirmities, sent Don Bartholomew to reason with them, and endeavour to win them to obedience. The Adelantado, who was generally a man rather of deeds than words, took with him fifty men well armed. Arriving near the rebels, he sent messengers to treat with them; but Porras forbade them to approach. The latter cheered his followers by pointing, with derision, to the pale countenances of their opponents, who were emaciated by recent sickness and long confinement in the wreck; whereas his men, for the most part, were hardy sailors, rendered robust by living in the open air. He assured them the followers of the Adelantado were mere household men, fair weather

troops, who could never stand before them. He did not reflect, that with such men pride and spirit often more than supply the place of bodily force, and that his adversaries had the incalculable advantage of justice and law upon their side.

Deluded by his words into a transient glow of courage, the rebels did not wait to be attacked, but rushed with shouts upon the enemy. Six of them had made a league to assault the Adelantado, but were so well received that he laid several of them dead at his feet, among whom was Juan Sanchez, the same powerful mariner who had carried off the cacique Quibian. In the midst of the affray the Adelantado was assailed by Francisco de Porras, who, with a blow of his sword, cleft his buckler, and wounded the hand which grasped it. The sword remained wedged in the shield, and before it could be withdrawn the Adelantado closed upon Porras, grappled him, and, being assisted by others, succeeded in taking him prisoner.

The rebels, seeing their leader a captive, fled in confusion, but were not pursued, through fear of an attack from the Indians, who had remained drawn up in battle array, gazing with astonishment at this fight between white men, but without offering to aid either party. The Adelantado returned in triumph to the wreck, with Porras and several other prisoners. Only two of his own men had been wounded, one of whom died. On the following day, the rebels sent a letter to the admiral, signed with all their names, confessing their misdeeds, imploring pardon, and making a solemn oath of obedience; imprecating the most awful curses on

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their heads should they break it. The admiral saw, by the abject nature of the letter, how completely the spirit of these misguided men was broken; with his wonted magnanimity he pardoned their offences, merely retaining their ringleader, Francisco Porras, a prisoner, to be tried in Spain for his misdeeds.

CHAPTER XLIII.

Voyage of Diego Mendez to Hispaniola-Deliverance of Columbus from the Island of Jamaica. [1504.]

It is proper here to give some account of the mission of Diego Mendez and Bartholomew Fiesco. When they had taken leave of the Adelantado at the east end of the island of Jamaica, they continued all day in a direct course; there was no wind, the sky was without a cloud, and the sea like a mirror reflecting the burning rays of the sun. The Indians who paddled the canoes would often leap into the water to cool their glowing bodies, and refresh themselves from their toil. At the going down of the sun they lost sight of land. During the night the Indians took turns, one half to row while the others slept. The Spaniards, in like manner, divided their forces; while some took repose, the others sat with their weapons in their hands, ready to defend themselves in case of any perfidy on the part of their savage companions.

Watching and toiling in this way through the night, they were excessively fatigued on the following day; and, to add to their distress, they began to experience the torments of thirst, for the Indians, parched with heat, had already drained the contents of their calabashes. In proportion as the

sun rose, their misery increased, and was irritated by the prospect around them—nothing but water, while they were perishing with thirst. About midday, when their strength was failing them, the commanders produced two small kegs of water, which they had probably reserved in secret for such an extremity. Administering a cooling mouthful occasionally, they enabled the Indians to resume their toils. They held out the hopes of soon arriving at a small island, called Navasa, which lay directly in their way, about eight leagues distant from Hispaniola. Here they would find water to assuage their thirst, and would be able to take repose.

The night closed upon them without any sight of the island; they feared that they had deviated from their course; if so, they should miss the island entirely, and perish with thirst before they could reach Hispaniola. One of the Indians died of the accumulated sufferings of labour, heat, and raging thirst; others lay panting and gasping at the bottom of the canoes. Their companions were scarcely able to continue their toils. Sometimes they endeavoured to cool their parched palates by taking sea water in their mouths, but its briny bitterness only increased their thirst. One after another gave up, and it seemed impossible that they should live to reach Hispaniola.

The commanders, by admirable management, had hitherto kept up this weary struggle with suffering and despair; but they too began to despond. Diego Mendez sat watching the horizon, which was gradually lighting up with those faint rays which precede the rising of the moon. As that planet