d got the start and the
help of their native guides. The men reluctantly returned to the shore
of the bay, fortunately picking up a couple of wounded sailors on their
way. The undergrowth around was diligently searched, but it yielded
nothing alive.

The ship's roll was called, and the losses counted. No one had seen
anything of Jeffreys and Morgan since the first landing; they had gone
a-hunting, and their fate could hardly be doubted. The digging party
had escaped death and capture, and no man was seriously wounded. Of
the water party, the two Johnsons, who had acted as leaders, were
wounded and prisoners; three others were captives with them; the rest
had escaped. There were no further attempts at digging that day. This
was, perhaps, just as well, for the earth contained no treasure. The
Dons had seized that long before.

Chapter XLII.

CAPTIVES.

The wonderful name of Drake saved the expedition from irretrievable
disaster. "For England, boys!" Sir John had shouted as he laid about
him in the mangrove trees. "For Drake and Devon!" shouted a Plymouth
tar, and his comrades had hurrahed at his words. "Ay, remember the
skipper's name!" Sir John had replied; "defeat and Drake don't go
together!" These shouted words, and the promptness of the round shot
from the ship, had really equal effects in scattering the foe. The
Spanish commander, when he rallied his men farther back at the springs,
asked Nick Johnson who his captain was.

"Drake of Plymouth!" cried Nick; "and take heed to it, ye dirty Papist.
Ye'll regret this business before sunset!"

And the soldiers were of their foeman's opinion. Their leader deemed
discretion the better part of valour. He had lost some men; his allies
had fled; five prisoners were in his hands. So far he could claim a
victory, and he was resolved not to lose one leaf from his scanty
laurels. "Drake" was an incarnation of the devil; every Don in America
knew that; it was useless fighting the redoubtable sailor, for no man
could defeat or kill him. The Spanish captain decided on a movement to
the rear. In vain Basil stormed and raved, and vowed that the dreaded
Drake was not within a thousand leagues of the isthmus. The soldiers
remembered that the speaker was a renegade Englishman, and refused to
believe him.

Basil left them to go on to Panama, whilst he returned to the Indian
camp and the two prisoners whose clever capture he had superintended.
The Indians