The
old man told him that it had been wrecked on a reef of
shoals a few leagues from Hispaniola, and just north of Port
de la Plata, which place got its name from the landing there
of a boat-load of sailors with plate saved from the sinking
vessel. Phips proceeded thither and searched narrowly, but
without avail. The sea held its treasures well. The charmed
spot was not to be found. The new crew, also, seemed growing
mutinous. Phips had had enough of mutiny. He hoisted sail
and made the best of his way back to England.
Here trouble and annoyance awaited him. He found powerful
enemies. Doubtless ridicule also met his projects. To plough
the bottom of the Atlantic, in search of a ship that had
gone down fifty years before, certainly seemed to yield fair
food for mirth. Yet the polite behavior, the plausible
speech, the enthusiasm and energy of the man had their
effect. He won friends among the higher nobility. The story
of the mutiny and of its bold suppression had also its
effect. A man who could attack a horde of armed mutineers
with his bare fists, a man so ready and resolute in time of
danger, so unflinchingly persevering in time of
discouragement, was the man to succeed if success were
possible. Finally, the Duke of Albemarle and some others
agreed to supply funds for the expedition, and Captain Phips
in no long time had another ship under his feet, and was
once more upon the seas.
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