No man ever had a better excuse for his superstitions than the Admiral;
no sooner had he got done with his Vision than the wind dropped, the sun
came out, the sea fell, and communication with the land was restored.
While he had been sick and dreaming one of his crew, Diego Mendez, had
been busy with practical efforts in preparation for this day of fine
weather; he had made a great raft out of Indian canoes lashed together,
with mighty sacks of sail cloth into which the provisions might be
bundled; and as soon as the sea had become calm enough he took this raft
in over the bar to the settlement ashore, and began the business of
embarking the whole of the stores and ammunition of Bartholomew's
garrison. By this practical method the whole establishment was
transferred from the shore to the ships in the space of two days, and
nothing was left but the caravel, which it was found impossible to float
again. It was heavy work towing the raft constantly backwards and
forwards from the ships to the shore, but Diego Mendez had the
satisfaction of being the last man to embark from the deserted
settlement, and to see that not an ounce of stores or ammunition had been
lost.

Columbus, always quick to reward the services of a good man, kissed Diego
Mendez publicly--on both cheeks, and (what doubtless pleased him much
better) gave him command of the caravel of which poor Tristan had been
the captain.

With a favourable wind they sailed from this accursed shore at the end of
April 1503. It is strange, as Winsor points out, that in the name of
this coast should be preserved the only territorial remembrance of
Columbus, and that his descendant the Duke of Veragua should in his title
commemorate one of the most unfortunate of the Admiral's adventures. And