ing upon the banks of a stream which he
was anxious to pass. The youth tendered the support of his strong
shoulders, and bore him across the water. As a reward for the service,
the old man bade the youth to live until they should meet again. And
thus had he lived, until a few months since he was presented to De
Cunna, when he at once recognized in a portrait of St. Francis the holy
man whom he had carried across the stream. This image was modelled from
that portrait; it was blessed by the pious convert in whose person was
performed the miracle. Our voyage must be prosperous with this on
board."

The sight of an image taken from a portrait acknowledged to be the saint
himself, removed all doubt. And what Botello's arguments and persuasions
might have failed to accomplish, was easily effected by the little image
of lead. A heretic might, perhaps, have questioned the saint's power
over the physical phenomena of the sea, but he could not have denied his
moral influence over the minds of the adventurous voyageurs who confided
in him. No hesitation remained, except in the minds of the four slaves,
who, having been forcibly converted from the errors of Mohammed, were
yet somewhat weak in the true faith.

It was this want of faith that led to one of the most lamentable events
of the voyage. They had been out more than a month without having had
sight of land, and not even a distant sail had lighted up the dismal
loneliness of the ocean. It must be recollected what a solitude was the
vast surface of the Indian and Pacific seas in those days. Beside the
Portuguese fleets that followed each other at long and regular
intervals, Christian commerce there was none, while Arabian trade was
small in amount, and confined to certain narrow channels. The Moorish
slaves had never before been so long in the open sea, and their fears
increased as day after day the little boat bore them farther to the
south. The provisions were also, by this time, nearly exhausted, and the
daily allowance of water proved barely sufficient to moisten their
parched lips. The slaves, after taking counsel among themselves,
demanded that the course of the boat should be arrested.

"And which way would you go?" asked Botello. "Back to Diu? It would take
three months to reach the port, and long ere that we should starve."

"Let us steer, then, directly for the African coast. Melenda must be our
nearest port."

"Never!" returned the resolute Botello. "I will run