AN audible murmur ran through the crowd of spectators, and Martin
Alonzo knew, without looking, that it was caused as much by the
well-disposed as by the disaffected among the crew, and he was certain
that some of the cabin passengers had helped to swell the murmur; but
he was not the man to deviate from his intention for the opinion of
others, and so only repeated:
“To the mast, I say!”
So Diego was triced to the mast and the crew driven in a body forward.
The flogging would be no light thing, but it was the bitter humiliation
that Diego dreaded most. He almost wished Miguel had thrown him
overboard the night before.
Miguel! Yes, he was suffering this for him and for Juan. He had not
taken the oath they had wished him to swear, and yet he was as faithful
to them as if he had done so. And where were they now? Were they going
to see him flogged? Would they let it be done?
He looked despairingly into the crowd of sailors, and saw many pitying
faces, but not theirs. He thought bitterly that they might have given
him the comfort of their sympathy.
How could he know that at that moment Juan was struggling in the strong
grasp of Miguel? How could he know that when he had been hurried to the
mast, Juan had sprung forward, saying, “They shall not do that.”
But it was so. Juan had first watched Diego with fear and hatred in
his heart for him; but when he saw and understood how Diego was making
a sacrifice of himself for him and Miguel, for two persons whom he
disliked and whom he could be rid of by a word, the convict boy was
stirred by a generous feeling that made him determine that Diego should
not be flogged for him, and so he had muttered, “They shall not do
that,” and would have gone up to Martin Alonzo and accused himself. But
Miguel was made of baser material and would have nothing of the sort.
“Fool!” he said, “what would you do?”
“They shall not flog him. I know how he will take it. The shame will
kill him. He is brave. I will not see it done!”
He struggled to free himself from Miguel, but the latter placed his
hand over his mouth and quickly dragged him into the forecastle.
“Better his back scored than our necks broken, you fool!” said Miguel.
“I will not betray you. I will take all the blame,” said Juan. “Let me
go. I will cry out!”
“You are mad. I will choke you if you do not keep still. It will soon
be over. Let us be thankful he has the courage to stand it.”
But the noble generosity that swelled the boy’s heart would not permit
him to keep still, and while he seemed to acquiesce and submit he was
only gathering strength for a final struggle, so that presently he
wrenched himself free and darted out on deck and frantically pushed his
way through the crowd of sailors. When he reached the mast, however,
Diego was not there any longer. He did not know how time had sped while
he was struggling with Miguel, and he gasped:
“Have they flogged him?”
“No, they have taken him to the cabin,” was the answer.
And this is how that had happened: No one, not even Francisco Martin
Pinzon, or Garcia Fernandez, the steward of the vessel, and a man of
importance, had dared to interfere to save Diego from the anger of his
cousin, though both desired to do so. But while Diego was being tied
to the mast, the carpenter raised his head above the rail and whispered
a few words to Francisco Martin, which he repeated to Garcia Fernandez.
They both looked at each other and seemed to gain the same idea at
once; for both sprang to the side of Martin Alonzo, and Francisco
Martin said in a low tone:
“Forbear flogging the lad, brother; the carpenter has imparted such
intelligence to us as puts a new light on the matter. Let us to the
cabin.”
Perhaps by this time Martin Alonzo was glad of an excuse to refrain;
for he turned to go, first saying to the third mate:
“Hold your hand till I return.”
“It might be wise to have the lad in the cabin with us,” said Garcia
Fernandez.
“Francisco Martin,” said the captain, shortly, “have him in the cabin.”
So, while Diego was shudderingly awaiting the shameful blow, he was
released and taken into the cabin, where his elder cousin and the
steward sat. Martin Alonzo did not look at him, but turned to his
brother and asked:
“What is it the carpenter says?”
“He says there is plain evidence that the rudder was tampered with
before ever the ship left port, and that it is a wonder it did not
give out ere this.”
Martin Alonzo knit his brow.
“That should have been discovered before we sailed. It was gross
negligence that it was not,” he said.
“So that you do not hold me accountable,” said Francisco Martin, with
an angry flush, “I will agree with you.”
“I could not watch everything,” said Martin Alonzo, a little doggedly.
“But it is idle to cross words on that. The rudder, it is like, was
tampered with before we left port; but it is certain that a knife was
used last night to cut the gear; for the cut was a fresh one. Boy, will
you tell me what you know of this matter?”
It is probable that Garcia Fernandez, who was at once a shrewd and
a kindly man, saw a look of obstinacy gathering on Diego’s face.
Certainly the boy resented the tone and manner of his cousin, and was
ready to put the harshest construction on his words. The steward said
hastily, before Diego could give word to the answer that sprang to his
lips:
“Your pardon, Martin Alonzo, but may I have a word with the boy before
he speaks in answer?”
“Let it be brief,” was the gruff assent.
“I do not know,” said Garcia Fernandez to Diego, “whether or not you
have anything to tell, and of course I appreciate your unwillingness to
seem a spy on your fellow-sailors; but this is a matter that concerns
your life and my life and the lives of all of us. Bethink you, Diego,
that what has been done once may be done again, and the more readily
that it goes unpunished and undetected this time; and the next time the
end may be our deaths. In that case it will be your crime as much as
that of the man who does the act. To refuse to divulge what you know is
generous and brave, it may be; but it is the madness of generosity and
bravery.”
Diego could not but be affected by the argument; but he had his side to
present, too. He looked resentfully at his cousin and said:
“I put myself in my cousin Captain Martin Alonzo’s way yesterday to
warn him, and he thrust me aside with a blow.”
“How was I to know what you had to say?” demanded Martin Alonzo.
“You might have heard me, at least. But no, you could not grant even
that courtesy to my mother’s son. I did not come this mad voyage to
please myself, and I like it not; but I would have done my duty, and
will do it now if you will but let me.” Garcia Fernandez motioned him
to hush, pointing to the gathering wrath on Martin Alonzo’s face; but
Diego was in the full tide of his wrongs and was not to be hushed.
“You have forced me to come, when I prayed you not; you have likened
me publicly to a thief and a convict; you have struck me unreasonably;
and you have been willing to put a felon’s shame on me. If your ship
had gone to the bottom it would have been your own fault in putting
such a fear on me that I could not tell my plain duty. So I say to you
plainly, I know who cut the gear, and I will not tell you!”
There Diego stopped, and doggedly shut his lips, while Garcia Fernandez
and Francisco Martin looked at each other in dismay.