Itwas very fortunate for the well-disposed few, as well as for the disaffected majority of the crew, that thePintawas commanded by so able a sailor and so cool-headed a man as Martin Alonzo Pinzon.Many another man at such a time would have been utterly at a loss what to do; but Martin Alonzo acted with a promptness that gave the impression that he had been prepared for this very emergency.He did not merely issue his orders in quick and precise terms, but bore a hand in the execution of the more pressing duties, and so animated the terrified sailors that they took heart to act briskly and in sympathy with his efforts. Drags were hurriedly prepared and thrown over, and after a time of doubt and fearful anxiety the little vessel swung around and brought her head up to the wind.There was no hope of any assistance from the other vessels during such a high wind and rough sea; but Martin Alonzo had the distresssignal run up as soon as he had secured the safety of thePinta, in order partly to explain why he did not continue on his course, and also to prevent the companion vessels from leaving him.Providentially—it seemed as if Providence interfered more than once in behalf of this daring enterprise—providentially the wind began to abate a great deal of its violence at this time; and although the waves continued to run very high, they were less dangerous by reason of no longer curling and breaking.It still remained a hazardous thing to get over the vessel’s side to examine the steering-gear and rudder; but Martin Alonzo had such courage and such confidence in his strength that he performed that office himself. He tied a stout line about his body and slipped it up under his armpits, and then, commending himself to the care of his brother, climbed over the rail.Diego knew that it was inevitable that so shrewd a seaman as his cousin must discover that the gear had been tampered with, and when Martin Alonzo disappeared over the side he looked around to note the effect on the conspirators. Many of the sailors looked frightened, but on the faces of Miguel and Juan especially he could see a desperate, hunted expression, as ifthey believed that their crime would certainly be fastened on them.Diego himself was not without a deep concern, and his face was as pallid as any; for, now that he knew the danger they had all been exposed to by what Juan had done, he realized that there could be no excuse for his not hastening to inform his cousin of his suspicions. And he knew it would not make his case seem any better to plead that his cousin had repelled him so often that he had feared to warn him.Presently he saw Miguel whisper to Juan, and then both of them glanced towards him. After that, Juan left the side of Miguel and made through the anxious crowd towards him. Now, the last thing Diego wished was any intercourse with either of those two. He was uncertain enough of his own position not to wish it made worse by seeming to have any understanding with them, and so he shifted his place until he was as near as he dared to go to where Francisco Martin Pinzon stood.Perhaps Juan would have followed him there had not Martin Alonzo at that moment lifted his head above the rail, and then climbed quickly on deck. His brother asked him a question relative to the nature of the injury to the rudder; but Diego noticed that Martin Alonzo pushed him sternly aside and stepped forward to where he could sweep the waiting crew with his keen glance.“MARTIN ALONZO DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE.”It seemed to Diego as if that stern eye were reading every face, and he had no doubt that he had betrayed in his countenance all that he knew, when the glance passed over him. He looked involuntarily at Miguel and Juan, and could see that they were in the same dread as himself, and that the former, with the ugly expression of an animal cornered, was feeling nervously of the handle of his knife.The look they both shot at him was one of mingled inquiry and hatred, and he knew that Miguel was regretting that he had been prevented carrying out his murderous design towards him.It was as certain to him as it seemed to them that he would be questioned by his cousin, and his dread of Martin Alonzo was such that he caught at the rail to steady himself. Martin Alonzo had other work to do first; the rudder must be repaired as far as was possible before he did anything else, and the carpenter was called and instructed what to do.He brought his tools and such materials as seemed to be needed and went over the rail. And all the while that he was making ready,Martin Alonzo paced back and forth in the limited space available to him, never taking his stern glance from the crew, which stood in the waist of the vessel eying him with evident trepidation.But not until the carpenter had made all his preparations and disappeared over the rail did the captain utter a word. And when he did, it was sternly and harshly enough, but without that roar which had theretofore characterized his voice. He stepped to the ladder and sent a searching glance over the faces turned expectantly upward to his. Then after a moment of silence, during which more than one of the sailors caught a painful breath, he spoke.“A foul deed has been wrought here.” He stopped and waited as if to give time for his words to be fully understood. “Some scoundrel, for whom hanging is too good, has wrecked the rudder. The gear has been cut with a knife, and the rudder is separated and unhung.” Again he stopped, and Diego stole a frightened look at Miguel and Juan. “Every life on board has been put in jeopardy. It is only by a mercy of God that we live now. It will be only by a further mercy that we shall continue to live. When I know the man who did it, I will hang him there,” and he pointed with flashing eyes tothe yard. “What! because ye like not the voyage will ye seek to drown us all? What! do ye think Martin Alonzo Pinzon is to be frightened from his purpose?” He stopped short and looked over the faces as if he would find one that expressed such a belief.It is unlikely that he saw such a face; for of all there, those who were innocent of participation and those who were guilty, there was not one that did not answer his glance with one of fear or of respect. Once again before he spoke he swept the crowd with his eyes, but this time slowly.“Diego Pinzon, come hither!”He spoke sharply, shortly, distinctly, and Diego heard; but it was not until he spoke again that the boy found strength to move. It was then with a stagger rather than with a walk that he went to the foot of the ladder and turned his pallid face up to his cousin.“Up, by my side!” said Martin Alonzo, sternly.Diego climbed up with difficulty, and stood with pale face and beating heart by the side of the captain of thePinta. Martin Alonzo eyed him in silence for a few moments, and the crew waited breathlessly for what was to follow. In that brief space Diego understood that the whole crew looked upon him as a sort of spy, and that his cousin regarded him as a cowardwho could be frightened into telling aught he might know.“Now, boy,” said Martin Alonzo, “you know something of this; tell me what it is. Speak!”Diego raised his eyes imploringly to his cousin’s face, as if beseeching him not to force such a thing upon him; but Martin Alonzo held the safety of his vessel above the feelings of a boy, whose chief merit was his over-readiness of speech when it was least desired of him, and so he repeated, threateningly:“Speak, or I shall know how to make you!”Diego drooped his head and was silent. Martin Alonzo thought he was obstinate, when in fact he was torn between doubt and anguish. What was his duty? The great muscular hand of the captain fell upon his shoulder and gripped it tight, the angry man not realizing perhaps his own energy, and causing Diego severe pain.“Will you speak? You had tongue enough a while since. Speak, I warn you!”Martin Alonzo was doubly angry now. Angry at what he believed was Diego’s obstinacy, and angry that he should meet with a check before the crew. If he had doubted his ability to make Diego speak he would not have essayed it so publicly; but, since he had essayed it, he was determined to succeed; for Martin Alonzo wasa man who at all times would have his own way, and who was used to being supreme and undisputed when at sea on his own vessel.Diego was well satisfied that nothing on the score of relationship would stand between him and the wrath of his cousin should he refuse to speak and tell what he knew. It was true, he might lie. How should any one know that he had cognizance of what had happened? Was it not more likely, indeed, that his denial would be the more readily credited in view of the fact that he had been a sort of outcast among the crew? Well, he did not even think of lying. A lie is the coward’s refuge, and he was not a coward.He was pale, he trembled, and his voice was unsteady; but when he looked up at his cousin his eye did not quail.“I had naught to do with it, and I have naught to say,” were his words.Martin Alonzo’s face grew gray with sudden wrath. He was in no mood then to credit Diego with the courage he had before denied him. He only knew, or believed, that his vessel had been put in jeopardy by some miscreant, and that the boy before him knew who it was and refused to divulge his knowledge. Diego was no more to him than any other boy on the vessel would have been.“You know, and you refuse to tell!” he said, hoarsely. “Now I ask you again, and I bid you think twice ere you answer.”Even at that moment—a terrible moment to him, with his fear of his cousin—the picture rose in his mind of Fray Antonio bidding him think twice ere he set foot to ground. Ah, the good fray! the sweet, peaceful days forever lost! It had been so funny then; it was so pathetic now!“Who—who did it?” demanded Martin Alonzo, quivering with wrath.“Why,” cried Diego, with sudden indignation, “would you make a spy of me? They all hate me now, though they have no cause. I will not give them cause. I have naught to say.”He seemed to hear a murmur of approbation from the crew; but it died away as Martin Alonzo, in a voice hoarse with passion, cried:“Have you naught to say? We shall see! Lopez! trice him up. Though he were my own son, he should not brave me so.”Diego understood the meaning of that—they were going to flog him. Alas! it was a common enough thing in those brutal days. Diego turned paler than before, but he looked into the angry face of his cousin and said:“And this is how you keep your promise to my mother!”“Will you tell?”“I have naught to tell.”“Then you shall be flogged.”“And I may say things I should not, Martin Alonzo Pinzon; but the shame will be yours, not mine,” and the pallor on his cheek gave place to a red flush.“To the mast with him!” said Martin Alonzo, a flush showing, too, on his bronzed cheek.
Itwas very fortunate for the well-disposed few, as well as for the disaffected majority of the crew, that thePintawas commanded by so able a sailor and so cool-headed a man as Martin Alonzo Pinzon.Many another man at such a time would have been utterly at a loss what to do; but Martin Alonzo acted with a promptness that gave the impression that he had been prepared for this very emergency.He did not merely issue his orders in quick and precise terms, but bore a hand in the execution of the more pressing duties, and so animated the terrified sailors that they took heart to act briskly and in sympathy with his efforts. Drags were hurriedly prepared and thrown over, and after a time of doubt and fearful anxiety the little vessel swung around and brought her head up to the wind.There was no hope of any assistance from the other vessels during such a high wind and rough sea; but Martin Alonzo had the distresssignal run up as soon as he had secured the safety of thePinta, in order partly to explain why he did not continue on his course, and also to prevent the companion vessels from leaving him.Providentially—it seemed as if Providence interfered more than once in behalf of this daring enterprise—providentially the wind began to abate a great deal of its violence at this time; and although the waves continued to run very high, they were less dangerous by reason of no longer curling and breaking.It still remained a hazardous thing to get over the vessel’s side to examine the steering-gear and rudder; but Martin Alonzo had such courage and such confidence in his strength that he performed that office himself. He tied a stout line about his body and slipped it up under his armpits, and then, commending himself to the care of his brother, climbed over the rail.Diego knew that it was inevitable that so shrewd a seaman as his cousin must discover that the gear had been tampered with, and when Martin Alonzo disappeared over the side he looked around to note the effect on the conspirators. Many of the sailors looked frightened, but on the faces of Miguel and Juan especially he could see a desperate, hunted expression, as ifthey believed that their crime would certainly be fastened on them.Diego himself was not without a deep concern, and his face was as pallid as any; for, now that he knew the danger they had all been exposed to by what Juan had done, he realized that there could be no excuse for his not hastening to inform his cousin of his suspicions. And he knew it would not make his case seem any better to plead that his cousin had repelled him so often that he had feared to warn him.Presently he saw Miguel whisper to Juan, and then both of them glanced towards him. After that, Juan left the side of Miguel and made through the anxious crowd towards him. Now, the last thing Diego wished was any intercourse with either of those two. He was uncertain enough of his own position not to wish it made worse by seeming to have any understanding with them, and so he shifted his place until he was as near as he dared to go to where Francisco Martin Pinzon stood.Perhaps Juan would have followed him there had not Martin Alonzo at that moment lifted his head above the rail, and then climbed quickly on deck. His brother asked him a question relative to the nature of the injury to the rudder; but Diego noticed that Martin Alonzo pushed him sternly aside and stepped forward to where he could sweep the waiting crew with his keen glance.“MARTIN ALONZO DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE.”It seemed to Diego as if that stern eye were reading every face, and he had no doubt that he had betrayed in his countenance all that he knew, when the glance passed over him. He looked involuntarily at Miguel and Juan, and could see that they were in the same dread as himself, and that the former, with the ugly expression of an animal cornered, was feeling nervously of the handle of his knife.The look they both shot at him was one of mingled inquiry and hatred, and he knew that Miguel was regretting that he had been prevented carrying out his murderous design towards him.It was as certain to him as it seemed to them that he would be questioned by his cousin, and his dread of Martin Alonzo was such that he caught at the rail to steady himself. Martin Alonzo had other work to do first; the rudder must be repaired as far as was possible before he did anything else, and the carpenter was called and instructed what to do.He brought his tools and such materials as seemed to be needed and went over the rail. And all the while that he was making ready,Martin Alonzo paced back and forth in the limited space available to him, never taking his stern glance from the crew, which stood in the waist of the vessel eying him with evident trepidation.But not until the carpenter had made all his preparations and disappeared over the rail did the captain utter a word. And when he did, it was sternly and harshly enough, but without that roar which had theretofore characterized his voice. He stepped to the ladder and sent a searching glance over the faces turned expectantly upward to his. Then after a moment of silence, during which more than one of the sailors caught a painful breath, he spoke.“A foul deed has been wrought here.” He stopped and waited as if to give time for his words to be fully understood. “Some scoundrel, for whom hanging is too good, has wrecked the rudder. The gear has been cut with a knife, and the rudder is separated and unhung.” Again he stopped, and Diego stole a frightened look at Miguel and Juan. “Every life on board has been put in jeopardy. It is only by a mercy of God that we live now. It will be only by a further mercy that we shall continue to live. When I know the man who did it, I will hang him there,” and he pointed with flashing eyes tothe yard. “What! because ye like not the voyage will ye seek to drown us all? What! do ye think Martin Alonzo Pinzon is to be frightened from his purpose?” He stopped short and looked over the faces as if he would find one that expressed such a belief.It is unlikely that he saw such a face; for of all there, those who were innocent of participation and those who were guilty, there was not one that did not answer his glance with one of fear or of respect. Once again before he spoke he swept the crowd with his eyes, but this time slowly.“Diego Pinzon, come hither!”He spoke sharply, shortly, distinctly, and Diego heard; but it was not until he spoke again that the boy found strength to move. It was then with a stagger rather than with a walk that he went to the foot of the ladder and turned his pallid face up to his cousin.“Up, by my side!” said Martin Alonzo, sternly.Diego climbed up with difficulty, and stood with pale face and beating heart by the side of the captain of thePinta. Martin Alonzo eyed him in silence for a few moments, and the crew waited breathlessly for what was to follow. In that brief space Diego understood that the whole crew looked upon him as a sort of spy, and that his cousin regarded him as a cowardwho could be frightened into telling aught he might know.“Now, boy,” said Martin Alonzo, “you know something of this; tell me what it is. Speak!”Diego raised his eyes imploringly to his cousin’s face, as if beseeching him not to force such a thing upon him; but Martin Alonzo held the safety of his vessel above the feelings of a boy, whose chief merit was his over-readiness of speech when it was least desired of him, and so he repeated, threateningly:“Speak, or I shall know how to make you!”Diego drooped his head and was silent. Martin Alonzo thought he was obstinate, when in fact he was torn between doubt and anguish. What was his duty? The great muscular hand of the captain fell upon his shoulder and gripped it tight, the angry man not realizing perhaps his own energy, and causing Diego severe pain.“Will you speak? You had tongue enough a while since. Speak, I warn you!”Martin Alonzo was doubly angry now. Angry at what he believed was Diego’s obstinacy, and angry that he should meet with a check before the crew. If he had doubted his ability to make Diego speak he would not have essayed it so publicly; but, since he had essayed it, he was determined to succeed; for Martin Alonzo wasa man who at all times would have his own way, and who was used to being supreme and undisputed when at sea on his own vessel.Diego was well satisfied that nothing on the score of relationship would stand between him and the wrath of his cousin should he refuse to speak and tell what he knew. It was true, he might lie. How should any one know that he had cognizance of what had happened? Was it not more likely, indeed, that his denial would be the more readily credited in view of the fact that he had been a sort of outcast among the crew? Well, he did not even think of lying. A lie is the coward’s refuge, and he was not a coward.He was pale, he trembled, and his voice was unsteady; but when he looked up at his cousin his eye did not quail.“I had naught to do with it, and I have naught to say,” were his words.Martin Alonzo’s face grew gray with sudden wrath. He was in no mood then to credit Diego with the courage he had before denied him. He only knew, or believed, that his vessel had been put in jeopardy by some miscreant, and that the boy before him knew who it was and refused to divulge his knowledge. Diego was no more to him than any other boy on the vessel would have been.“You know, and you refuse to tell!” he said, hoarsely. “Now I ask you again, and I bid you think twice ere you answer.”Even at that moment—a terrible moment to him, with his fear of his cousin—the picture rose in his mind of Fray Antonio bidding him think twice ere he set foot to ground. Ah, the good fray! the sweet, peaceful days forever lost! It had been so funny then; it was so pathetic now!“Who—who did it?” demanded Martin Alonzo, quivering with wrath.“Why,” cried Diego, with sudden indignation, “would you make a spy of me? They all hate me now, though they have no cause. I will not give them cause. I have naught to say.”He seemed to hear a murmur of approbation from the crew; but it died away as Martin Alonzo, in a voice hoarse with passion, cried:“Have you naught to say? We shall see! Lopez! trice him up. Though he were my own son, he should not brave me so.”Diego understood the meaning of that—they were going to flog him. Alas! it was a common enough thing in those brutal days. Diego turned paler than before, but he looked into the angry face of his cousin and said:“And this is how you keep your promise to my mother!”“Will you tell?”“I have naught to tell.”“Then you shall be flogged.”“And I may say things I should not, Martin Alonzo Pinzon; but the shame will be yours, not mine,” and the pallor on his cheek gave place to a red flush.“To the mast with him!” said Martin Alonzo, a flush showing, too, on his bronzed cheek.
Itwas very fortunate for the well-disposed few, as well as for the disaffected majority of the crew, that thePintawas commanded by so able a sailor and so cool-headed a man as Martin Alonzo Pinzon.
Many another man at such a time would have been utterly at a loss what to do; but Martin Alonzo acted with a promptness that gave the impression that he had been prepared for this very emergency.
He did not merely issue his orders in quick and precise terms, but bore a hand in the execution of the more pressing duties, and so animated the terrified sailors that they took heart to act briskly and in sympathy with his efforts. Drags were hurriedly prepared and thrown over, and after a time of doubt and fearful anxiety the little vessel swung around and brought her head up to the wind.
There was no hope of any assistance from the other vessels during such a high wind and rough sea; but Martin Alonzo had the distresssignal run up as soon as he had secured the safety of thePinta, in order partly to explain why he did not continue on his course, and also to prevent the companion vessels from leaving him.
Providentially—it seemed as if Providence interfered more than once in behalf of this daring enterprise—providentially the wind began to abate a great deal of its violence at this time; and although the waves continued to run very high, they were less dangerous by reason of no longer curling and breaking.
It still remained a hazardous thing to get over the vessel’s side to examine the steering-gear and rudder; but Martin Alonzo had such courage and such confidence in his strength that he performed that office himself. He tied a stout line about his body and slipped it up under his armpits, and then, commending himself to the care of his brother, climbed over the rail.
Diego knew that it was inevitable that so shrewd a seaman as his cousin must discover that the gear had been tampered with, and when Martin Alonzo disappeared over the side he looked around to note the effect on the conspirators. Many of the sailors looked frightened, but on the faces of Miguel and Juan especially he could see a desperate, hunted expression, as ifthey believed that their crime would certainly be fastened on them.
Diego himself was not without a deep concern, and his face was as pallid as any; for, now that he knew the danger they had all been exposed to by what Juan had done, he realized that there could be no excuse for his not hastening to inform his cousin of his suspicions. And he knew it would not make his case seem any better to plead that his cousin had repelled him so often that he had feared to warn him.
Presently he saw Miguel whisper to Juan, and then both of them glanced towards him. After that, Juan left the side of Miguel and made through the anxious crowd towards him. Now, the last thing Diego wished was any intercourse with either of those two. He was uncertain enough of his own position not to wish it made worse by seeming to have any understanding with them, and so he shifted his place until he was as near as he dared to go to where Francisco Martin Pinzon stood.
Perhaps Juan would have followed him there had not Martin Alonzo at that moment lifted his head above the rail, and then climbed quickly on deck. His brother asked him a question relative to the nature of the injury to the rudder; but Diego noticed that Martin Alonzo pushed him sternly aside and stepped forward to where he could sweep the waiting crew with his keen glance.
“MARTIN ALONZO DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE.”
“MARTIN ALONZO DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE.”
“MARTIN ALONZO DISAPPEARED OVER THE SIDE.”
It seemed to Diego as if that stern eye were reading every face, and he had no doubt that he had betrayed in his countenance all that he knew, when the glance passed over him. He looked involuntarily at Miguel and Juan, and could see that they were in the same dread as himself, and that the former, with the ugly expression of an animal cornered, was feeling nervously of the handle of his knife.
The look they both shot at him was one of mingled inquiry and hatred, and he knew that Miguel was regretting that he had been prevented carrying out his murderous design towards him.
It was as certain to him as it seemed to them that he would be questioned by his cousin, and his dread of Martin Alonzo was such that he caught at the rail to steady himself. Martin Alonzo had other work to do first; the rudder must be repaired as far as was possible before he did anything else, and the carpenter was called and instructed what to do.
He brought his tools and such materials as seemed to be needed and went over the rail. And all the while that he was making ready,Martin Alonzo paced back and forth in the limited space available to him, never taking his stern glance from the crew, which stood in the waist of the vessel eying him with evident trepidation.
But not until the carpenter had made all his preparations and disappeared over the rail did the captain utter a word. And when he did, it was sternly and harshly enough, but without that roar which had theretofore characterized his voice. He stepped to the ladder and sent a searching glance over the faces turned expectantly upward to his. Then after a moment of silence, during which more than one of the sailors caught a painful breath, he spoke.
“A foul deed has been wrought here.” He stopped and waited as if to give time for his words to be fully understood. “Some scoundrel, for whom hanging is too good, has wrecked the rudder. The gear has been cut with a knife, and the rudder is separated and unhung.” Again he stopped, and Diego stole a frightened look at Miguel and Juan. “Every life on board has been put in jeopardy. It is only by a mercy of God that we live now. It will be only by a further mercy that we shall continue to live. When I know the man who did it, I will hang him there,” and he pointed with flashing eyes tothe yard. “What! because ye like not the voyage will ye seek to drown us all? What! do ye think Martin Alonzo Pinzon is to be frightened from his purpose?” He stopped short and looked over the faces as if he would find one that expressed such a belief.
It is unlikely that he saw such a face; for of all there, those who were innocent of participation and those who were guilty, there was not one that did not answer his glance with one of fear or of respect. Once again before he spoke he swept the crowd with his eyes, but this time slowly.
“Diego Pinzon, come hither!”
He spoke sharply, shortly, distinctly, and Diego heard; but it was not until he spoke again that the boy found strength to move. It was then with a stagger rather than with a walk that he went to the foot of the ladder and turned his pallid face up to his cousin.
“Up, by my side!” said Martin Alonzo, sternly.
Diego climbed up with difficulty, and stood with pale face and beating heart by the side of the captain of thePinta. Martin Alonzo eyed him in silence for a few moments, and the crew waited breathlessly for what was to follow. In that brief space Diego understood that the whole crew looked upon him as a sort of spy, and that his cousin regarded him as a cowardwho could be frightened into telling aught he might know.
“Now, boy,” said Martin Alonzo, “you know something of this; tell me what it is. Speak!”
Diego raised his eyes imploringly to his cousin’s face, as if beseeching him not to force such a thing upon him; but Martin Alonzo held the safety of his vessel above the feelings of a boy, whose chief merit was his over-readiness of speech when it was least desired of him, and so he repeated, threateningly:
“Speak, or I shall know how to make you!”
Diego drooped his head and was silent. Martin Alonzo thought he was obstinate, when in fact he was torn between doubt and anguish. What was his duty? The great muscular hand of the captain fell upon his shoulder and gripped it tight, the angry man not realizing perhaps his own energy, and causing Diego severe pain.
“Will you speak? You had tongue enough a while since. Speak, I warn you!”
Martin Alonzo was doubly angry now. Angry at what he believed was Diego’s obstinacy, and angry that he should meet with a check before the crew. If he had doubted his ability to make Diego speak he would not have essayed it so publicly; but, since he had essayed it, he was determined to succeed; for Martin Alonzo wasa man who at all times would have his own way, and who was used to being supreme and undisputed when at sea on his own vessel.
Diego was well satisfied that nothing on the score of relationship would stand between him and the wrath of his cousin should he refuse to speak and tell what he knew. It was true, he might lie. How should any one know that he had cognizance of what had happened? Was it not more likely, indeed, that his denial would be the more readily credited in view of the fact that he had been a sort of outcast among the crew? Well, he did not even think of lying. A lie is the coward’s refuge, and he was not a coward.
He was pale, he trembled, and his voice was unsteady; but when he looked up at his cousin his eye did not quail.
“I had naught to do with it, and I have naught to say,” were his words.
Martin Alonzo’s face grew gray with sudden wrath. He was in no mood then to credit Diego with the courage he had before denied him. He only knew, or believed, that his vessel had been put in jeopardy by some miscreant, and that the boy before him knew who it was and refused to divulge his knowledge. Diego was no more to him than any other boy on the vessel would have been.
“You know, and you refuse to tell!” he said, hoarsely. “Now I ask you again, and I bid you think twice ere you answer.”
Even at that moment—a terrible moment to him, with his fear of his cousin—the picture rose in his mind of Fray Antonio bidding him think twice ere he set foot to ground. Ah, the good fray! the sweet, peaceful days forever lost! It had been so funny then; it was so pathetic now!
“Who—who did it?” demanded Martin Alonzo, quivering with wrath.
“Why,” cried Diego, with sudden indignation, “would you make a spy of me? They all hate me now, though they have no cause. I will not give them cause. I have naught to say.”
He seemed to hear a murmur of approbation from the crew; but it died away as Martin Alonzo, in a voice hoarse with passion, cried:
“Have you naught to say? We shall see! Lopez! trice him up. Though he were my own son, he should not brave me so.”
Diego understood the meaning of that—they were going to flog him. Alas! it was a common enough thing in those brutal days. Diego turned paler than before, but he looked into the angry face of his cousin and said:
“And this is how you keep your promise to my mother!”
“Will you tell?”
“I have naught to tell.”
“Then you shall be flogged.”
“And I may say things I should not, Martin Alonzo Pinzon; but the shame will be yours, not mine,” and the pallor on his cheek gave place to a red flush.
“To the mast with him!” said Martin Alonzo, a flush showing, too, on his bronzed cheek.