s' stay.

Slowly but surely, two by two, three by three, nine caravels mustered at
C. Blanco, and as the flagship of Lancarote was among them, an attack
was made at once with two hundred and seventy-eight men picked from
among the crews, the footmen and lancers in one boat and the archers in
another, with Lancarote himself and the men-at-arms behind. They were
steered by pilots who had been on the coast before and knew it, and it
was hoped they would come upon the natives of Tider Island with the
first light of dawn. But the way was longer than the pilots reckoned,
the night was pitchy dark, without moon or stars, the tide was on the
ebb, and at last the boats were aground. It was well on in the morning
before they got off on the flood and rowed along the coast to find a
landing-place. The shore was manned with natives, not at all taken by
surprise, but dancing, yelling, spitting, and throwing missiles in
insolent defiance. After a desperate struggle on the beach, they were
put to flight with trifling loss--eight killed, four taken,--but when
the raiders reached the village, they found it empty; the women and
children had been sent away, and all their wretched little property had
gone with them. The same was found true of all the villages on that
coast; but in a second battle on the next day, fifty-seven Moors were
captured, and the army went back on shipboard once more.

And now the fleet divided. Lancarote, holding a council of his captains,
declared the purpose of the voyage was accomplished. They had punished
the natives and taken vengeance for Gonsalo de Cintra and the other
martyrs; now it was for each crew and captain to settle whether they
would go farther. All the prisoners having now been divided like
prize-money between the ships, there was nothing more to stay for.

Five caravels at once returned to Portugal after trying to explore the
inlet of the sea at C. Blanco; but they only went up in their boats five
leagues, and then turned back. One stayed in the Bay of Arguin to
traffic in slaves, and lost one of the most valuable captives by sheer
carelessness,--a woman, badly guarded, slipped out and swam ashore.

But there was a braver spirit in some others of the fleet. The captain
of the King's caravel, which had come from Lisbon in the service of the
King's uncle, swore he would not turn back. He, Gomes Pires, would go on
to the Nile; the Prince had ordered him to bring him certain word of it.
He would not