stolen as a boy by some Spaniards, who had gone down (as was the fashion of the Jesuits even as late as 1790) for the pious purpose of converting the savages by the simple process of catching, baptizing, and making servants of those whom they could carry off, and murdering those who resisted their gentle method of salvation.  Did he know the way back again?  Who could ask such a question of an Indian?  And the lad’s black eyes flashed fire, as Amyas offered him liberty and iron enough for a dozen Indians, if he would lead them through the passes of the mountains, and southward to the mighty river, where lay their golden hopes.  Hernando de Serpa, Amyas knew, had tried the same course, which was supposed to be about one hundred and twenty leagues, and failed, being overthrown utterly by the Wikiri Indians; but Amyas knew enough of the Spaniards’ brutal method of treating those Indians, to be pretty sure that they had brought that catastrophe upon themselves, and that he might avoid it well enough by that common justice and mercy toward the savages which he had learned from his incomparable tutor, Francis Drake.

Now was the time to speak; and, assembling his men around him, Amyas opened his whole heart, simply and manfully.  This was their only hope of safety.  Some of them had murmured that they should perish like John Oxenham’s crew.  This plan was rather the only way to avoid perishing like them.  Don Guzman would certainly return to seek them; and not only he, but land-forces from St. Jago.  Even if the stockade was not forced, they would be soon starved out; why not move at once, ere the Spaniards could return, and begin a blockade?  As for taking St. Jago, it was impossible.  The treasure would all be safely hidden, and the town well prepared to meet them.  If they wanted gold and glory, they must seek it elsewhere.  Neither was there any use in marching along the coast, and trying the ports:  ships could outstrip them, and the country was already warned.  There was but this one chance; and on it Amyas, the first and last time in his life, waxed eloquent, and set forth the glory of the enterprise, the service to the queen, the salvation of heathens, and the certainty that, if successful, they should win honor and wealth and everlasting fame, beyond that of Cortez or Pizarro, till the men, sulky at first, warmed every moment; and one old Pelican broke out with—­

“Yes, sir! we didn’t go round the world with you for naught; and watched your works and ways, which was always those of a gentleman, as you are—­who spoke a word for a poor fellow when he was in a scrape, and saw all you ought to see, and naught that you ought not.  And we’ll follow you, sir, all alone to ourselves; and let those that know you worse follow after when they’re come to their right mind.”

Man after man capped this brave speech; the minority, who, if they liked little to go, liked still less to be left behind, gave in their consent perforce; and, to make a long story short, Amyas conquered, and the plan was accepted.