Chapter V

“Ere we Gomera cleared, a coward cried, `Turn, turn: here be three caravels ahead, From Portugal, to take us: we are dead!’ `Hold Westward, pilot,’ calmly I replied. So when the last land down the horizon died, `Go back, go back!’ they prayed: `our hearts are lead.’— `Friends, we are bound into the West,’ I said. Then passed the wreck of a mast upon our side. `See’ (so they wept) `God’s Warning! Admiral, turn!’— `Steersman,’ I said, `hold straight into the West.’ Then down the night we saw the meteor burn. `So do the very heavens in fire protest: Good Admiral, put about! O Spain, dear Spain!’— `Hold straight into the West,’ I said again.