no risk of having
our voyage frustrated by the jealousy of my old enemy, Alfonzo
Peristrello, who has command at that station. Courage for a few days
more, and we shall see land. There are isles hereaway that you will deem
fit residences for the blessed saints--such fruits! such flowers!"

The promises of Botello had influence with all of his companions
excepting the Moors, whose muttered discontent suddenly assumed a fierce
and menacing aspect. Luckily, Botello was as wary as he was brave.

It was in the middle of the night that, stretched upon the midship
thwart of the boat, he noticed a movement among the Moors, who occupied
the bow. One of them moved stealthily towards him, and bending over him,
cautiously sought the hilt of his dagger; but before he could draw it,
the grasp of Botello was upon his throat, and he was hurled to the
bottom of the boat. With a shout, the other Moors seized the boat hooks
and stretchers, and rushed upon Botello; but Juan and Alfonzo were upon
the alert, and, drawing their long daggers, rushed to his defence. Never
was there a more desperate conflict than on that starlit night, in that
frail boat, that floated a feeble, solitary speck of humanity on the
bosom of the vast Indian sea.

The conflict was desperate, but it was soon over. The Portuguese of
those days were other men than their degenerate descendants of the
present age; and, besides, the slaves were overmatched both in arms and
numbers. Three were slain outright, and the fourth driven overboard. One
of the Portuguese servants was killed; thus diminishing the number of
the voyageurs more than one-half--a lucky circumstance, without which,
most probably, the whole would have perished.

For a week longer the little bark stood on its course, when a violent
storm threatened a melancholy termination to the voyage. The wind,
however, was accompanied by rain, and Botello kept up the spirits of his
friends by attributing the storm to St. Francis, who had sent it
expressly to save them from dying by thirst. It would have been perhaps
more easy to believe in the saint's agency in the matter had there been
less wind; for in addition to the danger of being ingulfed by the heavy
sea, their clothing, which they spread to collect the rain, was so
deluged with salt spray as to make the water exceedingly brackish. Bad
as it was, however, it served to maintain life until they reached a
little rocky, uninhabited island in the channel of Mozambiq