places, for if ever one of these iron monsters broke loose 

 on the decks, there would be grave trouble. 



The winds increased to hurricane strength. Admiral 

 de Torres, aboard the flagship, Rubi, which had been con- 

 stantly signaling its charges in an effort to keep them to- 

 gether, finally realized the impossibility of the task. He 

 ordered the ships still in his vicinity to make what way 

 they could to the east, and appointed a place of rendez- 

 vous farther up the coast when the storm should be over. 



As dusk approached, the despairing admiral, through 

 driving rain and tossing seas, could make out only two of 

 his fleet of nineteen. Whatever lay ahead of the flotilla 

 that menacing night, there was nothing more that he 

 could do. Their fate was in the hands of the gods. 



By morning the hurricane was ended, though strong 

 winds still flagged the tumultuous seas. The admiral, per- 

 haps by superior navigation and a manageable ship, more 

 probably by great good luck, had managed to keep Rubi 

 clear of the reefs. Driven far north by the storm, he set 

 out to seek the remains of his fleet. By midday he had 

 succeeded in rounding up three badly beaten merchant 

 ships. At his orders two of them limped off toward Havana 

 for help. With the third accompanying him, he set out to 

 learn the fate of the other fifteen. 



As the Admiral sailed Rubi south along the line of 

 reefs, a short distance below Tavemier island he was able 

 to make out the battered remains of five of the fleet, scat- 

 tered inshore. As he sailed closer, he was startled to see 

 that the nearest ship, now lying on her side well beyond 

 the line of foaming reefs, was El Capitana, no longer the 

 proud galleon that had so recently started out from Ha- 

 vana in gleaming splendor. 



Unable to approach any closer to the stricken vessels 

 until the seas had calmed, Rubi continued her sad tour of 

 inspection toward the southwest. As she sailed past the 



The Florida Keys 83 



