Chapter XXVII.Theboys stood waiting for the boats to come nearer to where they were; but as it took the boats some time to reach that point, owing to the tide and current running together, the boys had time to recover from their ecstasy and to consider some things.There was thePintawith theNiña, and theSanta Mariawas not to be seen. This gave them a curious feeling as of something being wrong. They could not have told what, but it made them wonder if it would not be wise to make themselves known privately to the men of thePinta.So they hastened up the river farther, and waited there until they should see if the men would land, or take the water out of the river at the middle, which they might do if they were afraid of the natives. But it seemed that the men were not afraid of the Indians, and rowed up the river to where a small stream emptied into it, and there they went ashore.It was a little higher up, but on the same side where the boys were, and they hurried as silentlyas possible to the spot. They had recognized many of thePinta’smen, and had mentioned them by name with great joy to each other; though Juan had looked eagerly for Miguel, and had been disappointed not to see him. They hoped, and it so happened, that theNiña’sboats would push off first. Then Diego and Juan, with shining eyes, stole closer to where thePinta’smen were, and Diego called softy:“Rodrigo! Rodrigo de Triana!”“Holy St. Martin! who calls?” cried Rodrigo, the sound of something familiar in the tone turning his blood chill.“Juan Cacheco and Diego Pinzon,” said Diego, and therewith stepped out of the thicket and stood revealed.There was at first a disposition to flight on the part of the men; but there was something so very human in the joy of the boys that presently they were surrounded by all the sailors, who fairly embraced them in their joy.The boys were hustled into the boats, one in each, and all the while the explanations were carried on. Diego gave the briefest sketch of what had happened to him and Juan, and the sailors all together told how they had returned and had not found them, and how they had given them up. How they had sailed along the coastand traded for a plenty of gold, telling that in a whisper that made Diego demand the meaning of thePintaand theNiñabeing in company without theSanta Maria.Then the men told how the admiral had been shipwrecked near the western end of the island, and had built a fort with the timber of theSanta Maria, calling it La Navidad, and had garrisoned it with such men as wished to remain while he returned to Spain for more colonists; how, after that, he had started to circumnavigate the island, and had come upon thePintabefore Martin Alonzo could get out of his way.That had happened only three days since, and already the admiral and Martin Alonzo had had an altercation about some natives whom the latter had captured with the intention of carrying them to Spain to be sold as slaves. The admiral had forced him to release the prisoners and send them ashore with gifts.“It will soothe Martin Alonzo to see you,” said Rodrigo, “for he has grieved sometimes like a madman because of your loss. As for Miguel, he will be very glad to get out of his chains, where Martin Alonzo has kept him, vowing he would hang him to the yard if thePintaleft the island without you.”“Then my cousin believed I fell because ofMiguel?” said Diego, very glad to know that Miguel had not been sacrificed.“I saw him with his arm up as if he had struck you,” said Rodrigo.“But he had tried to help me,” said Diego.“So he swore, but no one believed him. We should have triced him up with a good will, Fray Diego, if you had not come back. But Martin Alonzo will be pleased to see you!”Diego presently had proof of that; for when they arrived at the ship and he went up over the side, Martin Alonzo at first nearly fainted, and then, being hastily assured that Diego was no wraith, but a hearty flesh-and-blood boy, he caught him in his arms and nearly smothered him with embraces. And when he had hugged him as much as Diego would let him, he turned to Juan and said such things to him as made him very happy.After that they went into the cabin, and Diego and Juan ate at the mess with Martin Alonzo and the gentlemen adventurers, and told their story as well as they could, without betraying what they knew of the gold; for they had agreed to keep that for Martin Alonzo’s private ear.So after the meal was over, Diego asked his cousin to give him and Juan a few minutes in private, which Martin Alonzo did by taking theminto his private cabin, a little hole that would scarcely hold the three of them.“Now, Diego, what have you to say to me?”Diego smiled at Juan and pulled up his shirt, which covered the belt for which he had suffered so much. And Juan did the same. They took their belts off and placed all the nuggets of gold before the astonished eyes of Martin Alonzo.“We did not speak of these in the cabin,” said Diego, “thinking you might wish to know it first.”Martin Alonzo stared at him and weighed the gold in silence for a time; then he almost gasped:“More than a thousand ducats of gold! Why, boys, you are rich! And you tell me the island is full of it?”“We saw it lying thick in the beds of the rivers, and a native told us that a piece as big as a baby’s head had been found in one place.”Martin Alonzo’s eyes shone with eagerness for a moment; then turned dull, and a sigh broke from him.“It is bootless. I could not go into the interior with the men. Already they are crying to get back where they may enjoy their gold, little as it is. Nor may I come back; for the admiral is viceroy of this new country, and he will neverpardon me, nor will I ask for pardon nor accept it at his hands. Keep your gold. You have earned it.”“A half of it is yours by right,” said Diego.“I shall not touch it, boy. But if you wish I will keep it safe.”So they gave him their gold to keep. Then Juan spoke to him.“I crave your pardon, Martin Alonzo, but I wish to speak in behalf of Miguel.”“The knave!” said Martin Alonzo, frowning.“He tried to save me, cousin. He did, indeed,” said Diego.“Why, so he has always sworn, but I believed him not. Why, then, he must be freed; but he is a scurvy fellow at best. If he had been half in earnest he might have saved you, it seems to me,” said Martin Alonzo, who, as Diego and Juan afterwards discovered, had not grown less obstinate during their absence.Being in some measure the cause of his imprisonment, Diego went with Juan to see the man unchained. Miguel was in a strange mood. At first he refused to speak to Juan at all; but afterwards thawed and was as friendly as ever, not only to him, but to Diego, acting as if he had forgotten that he had ever seemed to dislike the latter. And, indeed, it never was certain thathe did remember; for, to make an end of his part in this story, he was never himself again, and, in fact, died before ever thePintareached Spain, nobody rightly knowing what his ailment was.“DIEGO WENT WITH JUAN TO SEE THE MAN UNCHAINED.”
Chapter XXVII.Theboys stood waiting for the boats to come nearer to where they were; but as it took the boats some time to reach that point, owing to the tide and current running together, the boys had time to recover from their ecstasy and to consider some things.There was thePintawith theNiña, and theSanta Mariawas not to be seen. This gave them a curious feeling as of something being wrong. They could not have told what, but it made them wonder if it would not be wise to make themselves known privately to the men of thePinta.So they hastened up the river farther, and waited there until they should see if the men would land, or take the water out of the river at the middle, which they might do if they were afraid of the natives. But it seemed that the men were not afraid of the Indians, and rowed up the river to where a small stream emptied into it, and there they went ashore.It was a little higher up, but on the same side where the boys were, and they hurried as silentlyas possible to the spot. They had recognized many of thePinta’smen, and had mentioned them by name with great joy to each other; though Juan had looked eagerly for Miguel, and had been disappointed not to see him. They hoped, and it so happened, that theNiña’sboats would push off first. Then Diego and Juan, with shining eyes, stole closer to where thePinta’smen were, and Diego called softy:“Rodrigo! Rodrigo de Triana!”“Holy St. Martin! who calls?” cried Rodrigo, the sound of something familiar in the tone turning his blood chill.“Juan Cacheco and Diego Pinzon,” said Diego, and therewith stepped out of the thicket and stood revealed.There was at first a disposition to flight on the part of the men; but there was something so very human in the joy of the boys that presently they were surrounded by all the sailors, who fairly embraced them in their joy.The boys were hustled into the boats, one in each, and all the while the explanations were carried on. Diego gave the briefest sketch of what had happened to him and Juan, and the sailors all together told how they had returned and had not found them, and how they had given them up. How they had sailed along the coastand traded for a plenty of gold, telling that in a whisper that made Diego demand the meaning of thePintaand theNiñabeing in company without theSanta Maria.Then the men told how the admiral had been shipwrecked near the western end of the island, and had built a fort with the timber of theSanta Maria, calling it La Navidad, and had garrisoned it with such men as wished to remain while he returned to Spain for more colonists; how, after that, he had started to circumnavigate the island, and had come upon thePintabefore Martin Alonzo could get out of his way.That had happened only three days since, and already the admiral and Martin Alonzo had had an altercation about some natives whom the latter had captured with the intention of carrying them to Spain to be sold as slaves. The admiral had forced him to release the prisoners and send them ashore with gifts.“It will soothe Martin Alonzo to see you,” said Rodrigo, “for he has grieved sometimes like a madman because of your loss. As for Miguel, he will be very glad to get out of his chains, where Martin Alonzo has kept him, vowing he would hang him to the yard if thePintaleft the island without you.”“Then my cousin believed I fell because ofMiguel?” said Diego, very glad to know that Miguel had not been sacrificed.“I saw him with his arm up as if he had struck you,” said Rodrigo.“But he had tried to help me,” said Diego.“So he swore, but no one believed him. We should have triced him up with a good will, Fray Diego, if you had not come back. But Martin Alonzo will be pleased to see you!”Diego presently had proof of that; for when they arrived at the ship and he went up over the side, Martin Alonzo at first nearly fainted, and then, being hastily assured that Diego was no wraith, but a hearty flesh-and-blood boy, he caught him in his arms and nearly smothered him with embraces. And when he had hugged him as much as Diego would let him, he turned to Juan and said such things to him as made him very happy.After that they went into the cabin, and Diego and Juan ate at the mess with Martin Alonzo and the gentlemen adventurers, and told their story as well as they could, without betraying what they knew of the gold; for they had agreed to keep that for Martin Alonzo’s private ear.So after the meal was over, Diego asked his cousin to give him and Juan a few minutes in private, which Martin Alonzo did by taking theminto his private cabin, a little hole that would scarcely hold the three of them.“Now, Diego, what have you to say to me?”Diego smiled at Juan and pulled up his shirt, which covered the belt for which he had suffered so much. And Juan did the same. They took their belts off and placed all the nuggets of gold before the astonished eyes of Martin Alonzo.“We did not speak of these in the cabin,” said Diego, “thinking you might wish to know it first.”Martin Alonzo stared at him and weighed the gold in silence for a time; then he almost gasped:“More than a thousand ducats of gold! Why, boys, you are rich! And you tell me the island is full of it?”“We saw it lying thick in the beds of the rivers, and a native told us that a piece as big as a baby’s head had been found in one place.”Martin Alonzo’s eyes shone with eagerness for a moment; then turned dull, and a sigh broke from him.“It is bootless. I could not go into the interior with the men. Already they are crying to get back where they may enjoy their gold, little as it is. Nor may I come back; for the admiral is viceroy of this new country, and he will neverpardon me, nor will I ask for pardon nor accept it at his hands. Keep your gold. You have earned it.”“A half of it is yours by right,” said Diego.“I shall not touch it, boy. But if you wish I will keep it safe.”So they gave him their gold to keep. Then Juan spoke to him.“I crave your pardon, Martin Alonzo, but I wish to speak in behalf of Miguel.”“The knave!” said Martin Alonzo, frowning.“He tried to save me, cousin. He did, indeed,” said Diego.“Why, so he has always sworn, but I believed him not. Why, then, he must be freed; but he is a scurvy fellow at best. If he had been half in earnest he might have saved you, it seems to me,” said Martin Alonzo, who, as Diego and Juan afterwards discovered, had not grown less obstinate during their absence.Being in some measure the cause of his imprisonment, Diego went with Juan to see the man unchained. Miguel was in a strange mood. At first he refused to speak to Juan at all; but afterwards thawed and was as friendly as ever, not only to him, but to Diego, acting as if he had forgotten that he had ever seemed to dislike the latter. And, indeed, it never was certain thathe did remember; for, to make an end of his part in this story, he was never himself again, and, in fact, died before ever thePintareached Spain, nobody rightly knowing what his ailment was.“DIEGO WENT WITH JUAN TO SEE THE MAN UNCHAINED.”
Theboys stood waiting for the boats to come nearer to where they were; but as it took the boats some time to reach that point, owing to the tide and current running together, the boys had time to recover from their ecstasy and to consider some things.
There was thePintawith theNiña, and theSanta Mariawas not to be seen. This gave them a curious feeling as of something being wrong. They could not have told what, but it made them wonder if it would not be wise to make themselves known privately to the men of thePinta.
So they hastened up the river farther, and waited there until they should see if the men would land, or take the water out of the river at the middle, which they might do if they were afraid of the natives. But it seemed that the men were not afraid of the Indians, and rowed up the river to where a small stream emptied into it, and there they went ashore.
It was a little higher up, but on the same side where the boys were, and they hurried as silentlyas possible to the spot. They had recognized many of thePinta’smen, and had mentioned them by name with great joy to each other; though Juan had looked eagerly for Miguel, and had been disappointed not to see him. They hoped, and it so happened, that theNiña’sboats would push off first. Then Diego and Juan, with shining eyes, stole closer to where thePinta’smen were, and Diego called softy:
“Rodrigo! Rodrigo de Triana!”
“Holy St. Martin! who calls?” cried Rodrigo, the sound of something familiar in the tone turning his blood chill.
“Juan Cacheco and Diego Pinzon,” said Diego, and therewith stepped out of the thicket and stood revealed.
There was at first a disposition to flight on the part of the men; but there was something so very human in the joy of the boys that presently they were surrounded by all the sailors, who fairly embraced them in their joy.
The boys were hustled into the boats, one in each, and all the while the explanations were carried on. Diego gave the briefest sketch of what had happened to him and Juan, and the sailors all together told how they had returned and had not found them, and how they had given them up. How they had sailed along the coastand traded for a plenty of gold, telling that in a whisper that made Diego demand the meaning of thePintaand theNiñabeing in company without theSanta Maria.
Then the men told how the admiral had been shipwrecked near the western end of the island, and had built a fort with the timber of theSanta Maria, calling it La Navidad, and had garrisoned it with such men as wished to remain while he returned to Spain for more colonists; how, after that, he had started to circumnavigate the island, and had come upon thePintabefore Martin Alonzo could get out of his way.
That had happened only three days since, and already the admiral and Martin Alonzo had had an altercation about some natives whom the latter had captured with the intention of carrying them to Spain to be sold as slaves. The admiral had forced him to release the prisoners and send them ashore with gifts.
“It will soothe Martin Alonzo to see you,” said Rodrigo, “for he has grieved sometimes like a madman because of your loss. As for Miguel, he will be very glad to get out of his chains, where Martin Alonzo has kept him, vowing he would hang him to the yard if thePintaleft the island without you.”
“Then my cousin believed I fell because ofMiguel?” said Diego, very glad to know that Miguel had not been sacrificed.
“I saw him with his arm up as if he had struck you,” said Rodrigo.
“But he had tried to help me,” said Diego.
“So he swore, but no one believed him. We should have triced him up with a good will, Fray Diego, if you had not come back. But Martin Alonzo will be pleased to see you!”
Diego presently had proof of that; for when they arrived at the ship and he went up over the side, Martin Alonzo at first nearly fainted, and then, being hastily assured that Diego was no wraith, but a hearty flesh-and-blood boy, he caught him in his arms and nearly smothered him with embraces. And when he had hugged him as much as Diego would let him, he turned to Juan and said such things to him as made him very happy.
After that they went into the cabin, and Diego and Juan ate at the mess with Martin Alonzo and the gentlemen adventurers, and told their story as well as they could, without betraying what they knew of the gold; for they had agreed to keep that for Martin Alonzo’s private ear.
So after the meal was over, Diego asked his cousin to give him and Juan a few minutes in private, which Martin Alonzo did by taking theminto his private cabin, a little hole that would scarcely hold the three of them.
“Now, Diego, what have you to say to me?”
Diego smiled at Juan and pulled up his shirt, which covered the belt for which he had suffered so much. And Juan did the same. They took their belts off and placed all the nuggets of gold before the astonished eyes of Martin Alonzo.
“We did not speak of these in the cabin,” said Diego, “thinking you might wish to know it first.”
Martin Alonzo stared at him and weighed the gold in silence for a time; then he almost gasped:
“More than a thousand ducats of gold! Why, boys, you are rich! And you tell me the island is full of it?”
“We saw it lying thick in the beds of the rivers, and a native told us that a piece as big as a baby’s head had been found in one place.”
Martin Alonzo’s eyes shone with eagerness for a moment; then turned dull, and a sigh broke from him.
“It is bootless. I could not go into the interior with the men. Already they are crying to get back where they may enjoy their gold, little as it is. Nor may I come back; for the admiral is viceroy of this new country, and he will neverpardon me, nor will I ask for pardon nor accept it at his hands. Keep your gold. You have earned it.”
“A half of it is yours by right,” said Diego.
“I shall not touch it, boy. But if you wish I will keep it safe.”
So they gave him their gold to keep. Then Juan spoke to him.
“I crave your pardon, Martin Alonzo, but I wish to speak in behalf of Miguel.”
“The knave!” said Martin Alonzo, frowning.
“He tried to save me, cousin. He did, indeed,” said Diego.
“Why, so he has always sworn, but I believed him not. Why, then, he must be freed; but he is a scurvy fellow at best. If he had been half in earnest he might have saved you, it seems to me,” said Martin Alonzo, who, as Diego and Juan afterwards discovered, had not grown less obstinate during their absence.
Being in some measure the cause of his imprisonment, Diego went with Juan to see the man unchained. Miguel was in a strange mood. At first he refused to speak to Juan at all; but afterwards thawed and was as friendly as ever, not only to him, but to Diego, acting as if he had forgotten that he had ever seemed to dislike the latter. And, indeed, it never was certain thathe did remember; for, to make an end of his part in this story, he was never himself again, and, in fact, died before ever thePintareached Spain, nobody rightly knowing what his ailment was.
“DIEGO WENT WITH JUAN TO SEE THE MAN UNCHAINED.”
“DIEGO WENT WITH JUAN TO SEE THE MAN UNCHAINED.”
“DIEGO WENT WITH JUAN TO SEE THE MAN UNCHAINED.”