onists. Bearing northward, he advanced by an
unknown and dangerous course along the coast of Hayti and through the
intricate passes of the Bahamas. On the night of the twenty-sixth, the
San Pelayo struck three times on the shoals; "but," says the chaplain,
"inasmuch as our enterprise was undertaken for the sake of Christ and
His blessed Mother, two heavy seas struck her abaft, and set her afloat
again."

At length the ships lay becalmed in the Bahama Channel, slumbering on
the dead and glassy sea, torpid with the heats of a West-Indian August.
Menendez called a council of the commanders. There was doubt and
indecision. Perhaps Ribaut had already reached the French fort, and then
to attack the united force would be a stroke of desperation. Far better
to await their lagging comrades. But the Adelantado was of another mind;
and, even had his enemy arrived, he was resolved that he should have no
time to fortify himself.

"It is God's will," he said, "that our victory should be due, not to our
numbers, but to His all-powerful aid. Therefore has He stricken us with
tempests and scattered our ships." And he gave his voice for instant
advance.

There was much dispute; even the chaplain remonstrated; but nothing
could bend the iron will of Menendez. Nor was a sign of celestial
approval wanting. At nine in the evening, a great meteor burst forth in
mid-heaven, and, blazing like the sun, rolled westward towards the
Floridian coast. The fainting spirits of the crusaders were kindled
anew. Diligent preparation was begun. Prayers and masses were said; and,
that the temporal arm might not be wanting, the men were daily practised
on deck in shooting at marks, in order, says the chronicle, that the
recruits might learn not to be afraid of their guns.

The dead calm continued. "We were all very tired," says the chaplain,
"and I above all, with praying to God for a fair wind. To-day, at about
two in the afternoon, He took pity on us, and sent us a breeze." Before
night they saw land,--the faint line of forest, traced along the watery
horizon, that marked the coast of Florida. But where in all this vast
monotony was the lurking-place of the French? Menendez anchored, and
sent fifty men ashore, who presently found a band of Indians in the
woods, and gained from them the needed information. He stood northward,
till, on the afternoon of Tuesday, the fourth of September, he descried
four ships anchored near the mouth of a river. It was the