Gradually terror and discontent
once more took possession of the crews. They
began to imagine that the steadfast east wind
that drove them westward prevailed eternally
in this region, and that when the time came to
sail homeward, the same wind would prevent their
return. For surely their provisions and water
could not hold out long enough for them to beat
their way eastward over those wide waters!
Then the sailors began to murmur against the
admiral and his seeming fruitless obstinacy, and
they blamed themselves for obeying him, when it
might mean the sacrifice of the lives of one hundred
and twenty sailors.
But each time the murmurs threatened to break
out into mutiny, Providence seemed to send more
encouraging signs of land. And these for the time
being changed the complaints to hopes. At evening
little birds of the most delicate species, that
build their nests in the shrubs of the garden
and orchard, hovered warbling about the masts.
Their delicate wings and joyous notes bore no
signs of weariness or fright, as of birds swept far
away to sea by a storm. These signs again aroused
hope.
The green weeds on the surface of the ocean
looked like waving corn before the ears are ripe.
The vegetation beneath the water delighted the
eyes of the sailors tired of the endless expanse of
blue. But the seaweed soon became so thick that
they were afraid of entangling their rudders and
keels, and of remaining prisoners forever in the
forests of the ocean, as ships of the northern seas
are shut in by ice.
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