Aguilar
half imagined that the demon gods of the heathen were battling against
the invading apostles of the Cross, poisoning their hearts and defeating
their aims. It was all like an evil enchantment.
These meditations were ended by a mighty buffet of wind that smote the
caravel and sent it flying northwest. Ourakan was abroad, the Carib god
of the hurricane, and no one could think of anything thereafter but the
heaving, tumbling wilderness of black waves and howling tempest and
hissing spray. Valdivia, regidor of Darien, had been sent to Hispaniola
by Balboa, the governor, with important letters and a rich tribute of
gold, to get supplies and reinforcements for the colony. Shipwreck would
be disastrous to Balboa and his people as well as to the voyagers.
Headlong the staggering ship was driven upon Los Viboros, (The Vipers)
that infamous group of hidden rocks off Jamaica. She was pounded to
pieces almost before Valdivia could get his one boat into the water,
with its crew of twenty men. Without food or drink, sails or proper
oars, the survivors tossed for thirteen dreadful days on the uncharted
cross-currents of unknown seas. Seven died of hunger, thirst and
exposure before the tide that drifted northwest along the coast of the
mainland caught them and swept them ashore.
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