ALTHOUGH under not more than half her full spread of sail, the _Pinta_
was dashing freely through the constantly roughening water, responding,
like the good sailer she was, to the freshening breeze.
Night had come on with a black sky, and it was only now and then with
the utmost difficulty that the lights of the other vessels could be
seen, rising out of the darkness for an instant only to be engulfed as
if forever.
All through his watch, Diego had divided his interest between these
appearing and disappearing lights and the possibility of some action on
the part of the conspirators on the _Pinta_. His anxiety on that score
had been sharpened not a little by the ominous tone of Juan Cacheco’s
words to him.
But, alert as he was, nothing occurred that was in the least
suspicious, and his watch was relieved without anything having taken
place to justify his fears; and as his belief was that the man Miguel
was at the head of whatever plot there was, he felt reassured when he
saw him, after a few muttered words with one of the new watch, plunge
into the close cabin where the men crowded together to sleep.
The company of those who disliked him, whether they were asleep or
awake, was never pleasant to Diego, and, moreover, the bad air and
odors of the close cabin were almost sickening to him, though a good
sailor; so he did not follow his watch into shelter, but determined to
remain on deck as long as the rain, which threatened, held up.
With this intention he crept silently to a corner, where a coil of
rope offered a support for his head, and curled up, intending to sleep
there. It is easy enough to imagine what thoughts must have come to the
desolate and lonely yet high-spirited boy as he lay there, clinging to
his coil of rope to steady himself under the increasing motion of the
boat. The bitterness of the present was mingled with regretful thoughts
of the happy past.
The night was fresh, but not really cold--not cold enough, anyhow, to
prevent his sleeping where he lay, and he had already dozed and opened
his eyes twice or thrice, when it seemed to him that something like an
animal stole past him, and he stared with wide eyes to see what it
might be, or to determine whether or not he had been merely dreaming.
Not quite dreaming, nor yet wide awake. Something had passed him with
a stealthy step and crouching body, and, dark as the night was, he
could distinguish a human form; and, indeed, what other living thing
was there on board the vessel? Dislike is sometimes keener than even
love, and it was this that led Diego to the quick conclusion that the
crouching figure, moving so softly and cautiously aft, was that of Juan
Cacheco. And it seemed to his strained eyes that there was a gleam of a
knife-blade once when a lantern swung around the foremast.
His first thought, with a gulp of terror, was that the convict boy was
stealing aft with the intention of murdering Martin Alonzo Pinzon; but
then, though the idea was not an irrational one, he reflected that it
was not likely, since the after-cabin was too full of friends of his
cousin to make the thing possible for a boy to accomplish. And yet
Juan’s errand must be a wicked one, or he would not go about it in such
fashion.
But be it what it might, Diego was determined to understand it, and
with that idea was rising softly, when a new terror was added to the
first by the sudden apparition of a man skulking along the opposite
side of the vessel. And there was something about the movement of the
man that made Diego fancy at once that he was Miguel de la Vega.
Some evil it certainly was that took these two wretches out on deck
when they should have been asleep in the forecastle. Diego was a brave
enough boy, and at this moment was nerved by the desperate feeling
that his own safety--life, perhaps--depended upon his action; but,
notwithstanding, a chill of fear crept over him as he stole from his
shelter by the coil of rope and followed the dim figure of Juan.
He wondered at first that none of the sailors of the watch challenged
the two skulking figures; for it was inconceivable that they had not
yet been seen by some one. Then it came over him, with a new accession
of terror, that all of the watch must be in collusion with Miguel and
Juan.
And if that were so, might not their errand be the murder of his
cousin? But no, it seemed so unreasonable that they should attempt
that, with the cabin so full of friends of the captain. However, he was
determined to watch Juan, who had paused for some reason; and if he saw
him turn into the cabin door, he would throw himself on him and shout
for help. He would have done that anyhow, but he was afraid of making
a mistake and of thus calling down on himself the wrath of his cousin.
Juan had stopped, evidently to listen for some noise from the cabin,
and, as if reassured, had gone on again. Diego saw him pass the cabin
door and felt relieved of his greatest fear, but was still certain that
some evil was the object of this stealthy excursion. Could it be the
helmsman?
No, that was improbable, for the sea, having grown rough, had made the
helm so difficult to control that the man there had called a companion
to help him, and it seemed unlikely that Miguel and Juan would take
the uncertain chances of assault on two able-bodied men. Besides, what
would be the object, since it was more than probable that the two men
were in sympathy with whatever plot there was on board?
Indeed, though they must have seen Juan and Miguel, too, they paid no
attention to them, but kept up a conversation in a low tone, as if they
stood there quite alone. What should Diego do? What could he do but
hide in the shadow of the cabin and wait?
And so he waited and watched Juan, who had crawled to the starboard
rail, and was exchanging some whispered words with Miguel. Then, of
a sudden, Juan rose to his feet, and, to Diego’s eyes, seemed to drop
over the side. His first impulse was to cry out and run to the rail;
but he checked that, knowing that the boy could not have deliberately
jumped overboard, as a result of all his mysterious preparation.
Again the impulse was strong to slip into the cabin and warn his cousin
that something unusual was going on, and again the fear of being put
in the wrong restrained him, and he did nothing but wait for something
else to happen which might elucidate what had gone before.
Juan was gone what might have been five minutes before his head
appeared above the rail again. Miguel at once rose to his feet and
helped Juan carefully to the deck, the men at the helm studiously
keeping their eyes turned the other way all the while.
What did it mean? What had been done? What ought he to do? It seemed
incomprehensible that those two should have made all that mystery for
nothing but to enable Juan to idly get over the quarter-rail; but what
object could there be in it? Perhaps there was a porthole through which
the knife of the prison boy could be thrust with fatal effect! Diego
shuddered at that thought, and shrank away behind the cabin, feeling
that he might have been wasting precious time, and that it was now too
late for him to do any good.
But at least he could brave the possible displeasure of his cousin and
go into the cabin to ascertain if any foul deed had been committed. He
told himself that he would do so as soon as the two conspirators had
returned to the forecastle.
He stole to the mast and crouched at its foot, thinking to be better
hidden there. Juan appeared around the corner of the cabin on the same
side that he had first passed it, crouching by the rail and peering on
every side. Suddenly he stopped and stared towards where Diego hugged
the shadow under the mast. Diego waited breathlessly, intending to leap
towards the cabin at the first sign of discovery.
But, after a minute of peering, Juan resumed his progress, and Diego
turned his head to watch for Miguel. Dislike and ready suspicion had
done for Juan, however, what they had already done for Diego, and had
caused him to recognize Diego in the half-hidden figure at the foot of
the mast.
He had moved on as if freed from the doubt that had made him stop, and
then he turned again quickly and had leaped on Diego from behind; so
that, almost at the moment that Diego had espied Miguel coming along
the starboard rail, he had felt himself seized by the neck and borne to
the deck.
Fear and anger combined gave him courage and strength, however, and he
twisted under the grasp of his antagonist, and gave utterance to a yell
at the same moment that he grappled with Juan.
“Help, Miguel!” cried Juan, finding himself unable to cope with Diego,
and fearing another yell that would arouse the sleepers in the cabin.
And before Diego could utter more than a hoarse cry, he was caught by
the neck in the strong hands of Miguel, and despite his struggles was
in a fair way of being choked.
“Who is it?” he heard Miguel whisper.
“The boy Diego,” was Juan’s answer.
“Ah! and he was spying on us?”
“I think so.”
There was an instant of silence, during which Diego felt the grasp
on his throat relax, and he made a furious, desperate effort to free
himself.
“Ah! would you?” said Miguel, angrily, and once more tightened
his grasp on Diego’s throat. Then he said, suddenly: “The little
spoil-sport! The best place for him is over the rail. Bear a hand,
Juan, and we will send him to find better company, since he seems to
dislike ours.”
“What! throw him overboard?” demanded Juan.
“What else?”
“No, no. I won’t do it,” was the hasty answer.
“Why, you little fool! do you think our lives will be safe if we leave
this little friar to tell the captain what he knows?”
“I will not do murder,” said Juan, in a frightened tone.
“Then out of my way, and take no part in it. If it is his life or mine,
I shall not take long in the choosing. You’re a fool, Juan.”
“You shall not do it,” said Juan, laying hold of Diego, who was as
still, now, as if senseless, though, in fact, he was cognizant of all
that was going on.
“Out of my way, boy!”
“I will cry out and alarm the cabin,” said Juan.
Miguel cursed him for his folly, and demanded what he would have done,
then.
“Make him promise not to tell a word of what he knows.”
“Ay! he’d promise anything for his life’s sake,” said Miguel. “So much
for having a boy to work with.”
“He’ll keep his promise,” said Juan, positively. “Let him speak in a
whisper. Say, Diego! will you promise--will you swear on the crucifix
not to speak of what you have seen to-night, or of what you suspect?
Let him speak, Miguel!”
“And let him yell out and arouse the cabin,” retorted Miguel, in a
surly growl.
“If he tries to do it, throw him over,” said Juan.
Diego shook his head, as well as he could, to intimate that he would
not cry out. Juan seemed to understand the movement, and again urged
Miguel to loose his grasp. And, indeed, it was about time he did; for
Diego was losing consciousness. Miguel unwillingly did as Juan urged
him, and the latter spoke quickly to Diego.
“Will you swear as we ask you?” he said.
It was a minute before Diego could recall his senses to make a reply.
Then he demanded brokenly:
“Have you done harm to my cousin?”
“Not a thing has been done to him,” answered Juan.
“Have you taken any life?” asked Diego.
“Fool! no. Will you swear?”
“What have you done?”
“Holy St. Martin!” growled Miguel, “does the little priestling think
we are confessing to him?”
“You will learn soon enough what has been done if you will swear; but
if you do not take the oath and that at once, it is like you will not
be alive to learn,” answered Juan, angrily.
“I will swear,” said Diego.
“Where’s a crucifix?” said Juan to Miguel.
“You may be sure the priestling has one,” answered Miguel. “And let me
warn you, boy,” he said, savagely, “if you break your oath, you shall
not escape.”
“Here’s my crucifix,” said Diego, “and if I swear I will keep my word.
Now what shall I swear?”
“Swear that you will say nothing of what you have seen or heard,” said
Juan.
“Stop!” growled Miguel, suspiciously, “do not forget that he is a fray,
or hopes to be, and that it is his trade to juggle with words. Make him
swear in such a way that he cannot get around it.”
“I will swear honestly what you like,” said Diego, indignantly.
“You are too ready to swear,” said Miguel with all the suspicion of
ignorance.
“Hush!” whispered Juan, suddenly. “There is a noise in the cabin. Swear
as I said,” he ejaculated hastily to Diego.
[Illustration: “‘HUSH!’ WHISPERED JUAN, SUDDENLY. ‘THERE IS A NOISE IN
THE CABIN.’”]
“The captain!” muttered Miguel with an oath, and he and Juan crawled
away, attempting to drag Diego with them.
But he was not minded to bear them company, and tore away, only just in
time to avoid a vicious stab from the knife that Miguel drew from his
belt.
“We will hang for it!” he heard the older convict growl. “Curse you,
Juan, for a soft-hearted fool! Curse you!”
The man was in such a rage that Diego expected him to brave all
consequences and rush after him; so he ran aft near to where Martin
Alonzo was standing, and waited. Miguel and Juan had disappeared into
the forecastle, however, and he was not molested.
Martin Alonzo, like the thorough seaman that he was, had been waked
from his sleep by an unusual motion of his vessel; and, as he had
lain down in the full expectation of being disturbed by the coming of
the storm he had foreseen, he had leaped out of his bunk and rushed
out on deck. His first thought had been that the disturbance had been
caused by the storm; but when he reached the deck and discovered that
the storm had not yet burst, albeit the wind was fresh and the waves
running high, he sprang to the men at the helm and roared out:
“What’s wrong? Can’t two of you hold that helm steady? She yaws like a
blind mule on a hill-side. Steady there!”
He pushed the men angrily away and caught the helm in his own strong
hands, and braced his feet to keep the rudder steady. Still, there was
a quivering, unsteady motion to the vessel.
“Whose watch is it?” he roared. “Is it yours, Lopez?” as the third mate
came hurrying aft. “Have you turned lubber like the rest? Have you lost
your wits because we’re three days out? How long has she been yawing
like this?”
“Just commenced it,” was the surly answer.
“What’re you doing for’ard? Couldn’t you tell that something was wrong
with the steering-gear? All hands on deck and have everything made
snug! Jump, now! Let go the main sheet and bring her upon the starboard
tack. Jump, you lubbers! Do you think I want her brought about, you
sea-calves? There! that steadies her. Here, take this helm, and keep
her where she is.”
The vessel was alive almost from the first roar of the captain, and
everything was being done as expeditiously as possible; although most
of the people aboard of the vessel were wondering what was the cause of
so much excitement. The captain, however, gave no one much opportunity
for reflection; for as soon as he had given the helm into other hands,
he had issued more orders looking to lightening the canvas, making all
snug, and to keeping the vessel steady.
Diego had quickly seen that there would be nothing for him to do but to
take his part in the execution of the orders of Martin Alonzo, and he
had jumped like the others at the first word. The only care he had was
to keep away as far as possible from his two recent antagonists, and
this he accomplished, notwithstanding the manifest efforts of Juan and
Miguel to have a word with him.
He had wondered how he would be able to keep them at a distance after
the excitement had subsided; but he had no need to concern himself
about that; for no sooner had Martin Alonzo put the vessel in condition
to hold her own than the storm that had been threatening broke upon
them, accompanied by sheets of rain, forked streaks of lightning,
and peals of thunder; so that until daylight dawned there was little
idleness for any of the crew.
The rudder worked so badly that the vessel would not head as she was
put, and in consequence shipped so much water that all hands were kept
busy bailing her and pumping too.
When morning dawned, the first thought was of the other vessels, and
great was the relief to see them laboring in the great waves, not far
away; though in the event of danger to the _Pinta_ the others could
have done nothing for her in such a sea. Still, there was some comfort
in the companionship of the vessels. What Diego thought most of,
however, when the first streaks of dawn lighted up the gray waste where
sky and water were hardly distinguishable, was that now his life would
be safe from Miguel.
He had made no effort to have any communication with his cousin; for
that efficient sailor seemed to know what was wrong better than he
could have told him, and any information he could have given seemed to
him superfluous. He felt sure, of course, that whatever had happened
had been the result of the action of Juan; but, as no danger seemed to
threaten in consequence, he decided that it would be wisest to keep
silence. He knew, too, that everything he did was watched by Miguel.
The _Pinta_ was quite bare of canvas by this time, and was laboring
frightfully. Martin Alonzo had made several efforts to ascertain what
was wrong with the steering-gear; but without result, since it was
dangerous to go over the side during the gale, and he had determined to
postpone his investigation until the storm had abated.
All this while he had been without food, even when the sailors had been
supplied with theirs, and as the wind was now blowing steadily from one
quarter, he left his brother, Francisco Martin Pinzon, in charge of the
deck while he went for a hasty bite of something.
He had hardly taken two mouthfuls, however, as it seemed, when the
vessel suddenly shuddered from stem to stern, and in a moment more was
rolling like a log in the trough of the sea. With two leaps he was out
of the cabin and at the helm.
Something in the gearing had snapped and the rudder was useless. It
looked as if the vessel would swamp in another minute. The water poured
over her low rail, and yards dipped into the waves at each roll.
No man on board expected to survive that hour, and more than one who
had not prayed for many a year knelt where he clung to some rope and
tried to recall the forgotten words.
Diego found himself side by side with Juan Cacheco.
“You did this,” he cried, furiously.
“I didn’t expect this,” answered Juan, his face blanched with terror.