ABSTRACT

By this time we had already used up much of the sailing time [available for the India voyage] since leaving Lisbon, and as people had been talking for days about returning to Lisbon in view of the fact that the monsoon season was over and we were so far from the Cape and in an area from which only the best of circumstances would permit us to extricate ourselves, it was again and more earnestly a question of returning to Lisbon, although the Viceroy, to his credit, and especially Dom Francisco Lobo, the Captain, raised many objections to the return. Yet, considering it necessary, the Viceroy ordered the captains and officers to come from the other ships. After discussing the matter at great length in a council meeting, which took place on the Viceroy's balcony, they all agreed that we should return, a memorandum of the decision was drawn up and signed by all, and we immediately changed course for Lisbon. As soon as the return was announced, and the troubled sailors learned that we were actually putting it into effect, the joy was so great with which those most sick and tired of the sea, who were the majority, celebrated it that the joy they would show if they were arriving in the port of destination where they wished to anchor could be no greater. I do not cast blame on such inclinations and demonstrations because as the sea prepares so many hardships and we had certainly experienced them in so long a time of sailing, and being becalmed, everyone was so annoyed and disgusted with the sea that it was quite natural they they should want so desperately to reach land as soon as possible, except for those interested in the trip either because of the cargo they were carrying or because of profitable business ventures. Having made our decision, we continued our homeward course, and in the rest of our voyage we had only one furious storm, which assailed us off the Treseiras Islands. 1 The storm was all the more fearful because it came in the middle of the night. The wind was strong,

the rain heavy, and the disorder equal to the confusion and darkness in which we were all moving, and our anxiety was increased by the fierceness of the wind roaring in the upper rigging of the ship. The sea was stirred up and tumultuous, so that the sailors were busy attending to necessary tasks while the rest remained in their cabins and berths, fearful of what they were experiencing, especially those for whom this was a new experience. Suddenly, the boatswain, a respected old man who from his place on the poop deck was issuing orders appropriate to the emergency, blew his whistle and shouted with great emotion, as sailors do when they see this, for them to see and pay reverence to the corposant, which had appeared at the top of the flag. And as all present affirmed that they saw it, and falling on their knees at the second urging of the boatswain who first set the example for great devoutness, they gave it a salvo of shouts, saying, 'Hail corposant of the sea of the islands', for that was our location at that time. With this the religious fervour, confidence, and curiosity of the seamen increased, each one observing things seen or imagined, and there were those who claimed they saw what they call Our Lady's crown, which turns out to be many such lights together, which they say are stars. And, as for the appearance of one of these, although on this occasion I did not see it, on another occasion-one of many such occasions in which I found myself-I saw it very clearly and distinctly when I was with the fleet coming [to Spain] from the Indies in 1636 during one raging storm, among others, which persecuted us for many days on that voyage; for, as they lasted or kept coming one after the other, in the one that gave us most trouble because of its raging unabated for an excessively long time, a similar apparition occurred, which the Spaniards call St Elmo and we call corposant. This is nothing other than a light like that of a candle whose flame is not very clear, possibly because it is so high and because of heavy wind and rain ordinarily present when it appears. It can be seen, however, very distinctly. The corposant which appeared on the ship, from whose story I have digressed momentarily, soon descended to the top of the yard-arm of the main-yard on the starboard side and from there was soon seen on the top of the mizzen-sail, whence, whether the same one or another, descending on the Captain's cabin (located at the bottom of the poop-deck on the port side), it disappeared there; and with its disappearance the storm soon ended, leaving the seamen confirmed and obstinate in their superstitious piety and the others amazed and with something to talk about and to lighten their work for the remainder of the night. They were disabused of their erroneous belief that it is

aninfalliblesignoftotaldestructionorofaworseningofthestorm, withobviousperiltolives,whentheexhalation,forthatisallthat peoplesee,descendstothelowplaces,asitdidhere,andthestorm ended,theseabecomingcalmimmediately.Anddaylightcameand delightedthesoulsandbodiestiredanddisturbedfromtheworkand dangertheyhadundergoneallthroughthenight.Somewhoprided themselvesontheirphilosophy,concerningwhathadhappenedinthe night,triedtodiscourseonthematterandshow,byphilosophical reasonings,therealityofwhatwasseen.Theireffortswereinvain, however,andtheyhadtobreakoffandstoptheirdiscourse,being unabletocounteractthestubbornnesswithwhichtheseafaringpeople andmaritimeauthorsdefendedtheiropinions,fervour,and imagination.1