on and Oporto, because when he was young they went where no other
ships dared even follow; but he did not believe that the last word in
discovery had been said even by Dom Henriques at Sagres, or the
Mappe-Monde of Fra Mauro in Venice.

"Not so fast there, velinha (small candle)" he cautioned, raising a
whimsical forefinger. "So said many of us in our youth. And when we had
sailed for weeks, and all our provisions were mouldy or weevilly, and
our water-casks warped and leaking so that we had to catch the rain in
our shirts, we began to wonder what it was we had come for. The sea
won't be mocked or threatened. She has ways of her own, the old witch,
to tame the vainglorious. And 't is true enough," the old pilot went on
with a quizzing look at Fernao on his insecure perch, "that sailors have
a bad habit of doubling and trebling their recollections when they find
anybody who will listen. I don't know why they do it. Maybe it is
because having told a perfectly true tale which nobody believed, they
think that a little more or a little less will do no harm. For this you
must remember, my children,--that at sea many things happen which when
told no one believes to be true."

"I would believe anything you told me, Tio Sancho," promised Beatriz,
all love and confidence in her little glowing face.

"Ay, would you now? What if I said that I have seen a ship with all sail
set coming swiftly before the wind, in a place where no wind was, to
stir our hair who beheld it--and sailing moreover through the air at the
height of a tall mast-head above the sea? And a mountain of ice half a
league long and as high as the Giralda at Seville, floating in a sea as
blue as this one, and as warm? And islands with mountains that smoke,
appearing and disappearing in broad daylight? Yet all of these are
common sights at sea."

"But is there a Sea of Darkness, verily, verily, tio caro?" persisted
Beatriz. The old man shook his head, with a little quiet smile.

"I'll not say there is not. And I'll not say there is. I saw a Sea of
Darkness on the second voyage that ever I made, but that's all."

"Oh, tell us all the story!" begged Beatriz, and Fernao silently slid
from the wall and came closer.

"The commander of our ship was Gonsales Zarco, one of Dom Henriques'
gentlemen. Years before he'd been caught by a gale on his way to Africa,
and driven north on to an island that he named because of that, Puerto
Santo (Holy Haven). So when he came that