east, and a calm sea under his bows. Before the close of the day
came the first cry of "Land ho!" from the lofty poop. All the crews,
repeating this cry of safety, life, and triumph, fell on their knees on
the decks, and struck up the hymn, "Glory be to God in heaven and upon
earth." When it was over, all climbed as high as they could up the
masts, yards, and rigging to see with their own eyes the new land that
had been sighted.

But the sunrise destroyed this new hope all too quickly. The imaginary
land disappeared with the morning mist, and once more the ships seemed
to be sailing over a never-ending wilderness of waters.

Despair took possession of the crews. Again the cry of "Land ho!" was
heard. But the sailors found as before that their hopes were but a
passing cloud. Nothing wearies the heart so much as false hopes and
bitter disappointments.

Loud reproaches against the admiral were heard from every quarter.
Bread and water were beginning to fail. Despair changed to fury. The men
decided to turn the heads of the vessels toward Europe, and to beat back
against the winds that had favored the admiral, whom they intended to
chain to the mast of his own vessel and to give up to the vengeance of
Spain should they ever reach the port of their own country.

These complaints now became clamorous. The admiral restrained them by
the calmness of his countenance. He called upon Heaven to decide between
himself and the sailors. He flinched not. He offered his life as a
pledge, if they would but trust and wait for three days more. He swore
that, if, in the course of the third day, land was not visible on the
horizon, he would yield to their wishes and steer for Europe.

The mutinous men reluctantly consented and allowed him three days of
grace. . . . . . . . . . .

At sunrise on the second day rushes recently torn up were seen floating
near the vessels. A plank hewn by an axe, a carved stick, a bough of
hawthorn in blossom, and lastly a bird's nest built on a branch which
the wind had broken, and full of eggs on which the parent-bird was
sitting, were seen swimming past on the waters. The sailors brought on
board these living witnesses of their approach to land. They were like a
message from the shore, confirming the promises of Columbus.

The overjoyed and repentant mutineers fell on their knees before the
admiral whom they had insulted but the day before, and craved pardon for
their mistrust.

As the day and night a