WHILE the crew of the _Pinta_ were rejoicing over the certain
indications of land, Diego chanced to look towards the other vessels,
and saw that the _Santa Maria_ was crowding on more sail.
He immediately suspected the meaning of that. The indications of land
had been seen on board of the admiral’s vessel, and those aboard of
her were intending to gain a good lead before communicating their
discovery. Owing to the unfortunate altercation between the admiral and
Martin Alonzo, the crews of the two vessels had become imbued with a
feeling of jealousy towards each other, and each was willing to gain
honor at the expense of the other.
Besides, there was a reward of ten thousand maravedis offered for the
first discovery of land, and each vessel was naturally desirous of
seeing it earned on her deck. Diego then ran over to his cousin and
exclaimed:
“They have seen the signs on the _Santa Maria_, and are pushing her to
take the lead.”
Martin Alonzo looked quickly towards the vessel, and then turned and
gave orders for spreading every inch of canvas on the _Pinta_. There
was a good breeze blowing, and the _Pinta_ was the fastest sailer
of the fleet, so that it was not long ere she was showing the other
vessels her stern.
All that day and until night came on, there was not an eye in the
fleet but was eagerly bent in the direction in which land was supposed
to lie; but when darkness came on and there had been no sign of the
looked-for sight, most of the men gave over watching.
On the _Pinta_ old Rodrigo de Triana had been one of the most careful
watchers; though it was noticed that he had kept his eyes as much on
the water as on the horizon. His watch was relieved at midnight, but he
remained on deck, saying to Diego, who was in the watch with him, that
he did not feel sleepy, and had a mind to study the stars.
“To study maravedis, you mean,” said Diego, laughing.
“Why, maybe you’re right, lad,” answered Rodrigo, slyly.
Diego had half a mind to watch, too; for he had a good opinion of the
old sailor’s shrewdness; but he was sleepy, and deferred hope had made
him suspicious of appearances, and so he went to bed. It seemed to him,
however, that he had no more than fallen asleep when a gun fired from
the deck of the _Pinta_, followed by loud and joyous cries, sent him
out of his berth in a great haste.
He found himself jostled by all the others of the crew who had been
startled at the same time, and were crowding out on deck, eagerly
inquiring of each other if land had been discovered. Then presently
they heard the voice of Martin Alonzo joyfully proclaiming the great
tidings.
“Ay, ay, boys! it’s land sure enough. There! you can see it for
yourselves, dark as it is. And who should be the first to set eyes on
it but old Rodrigo, the cunning old salt, who, instead of turning in
like the rest, must spend the night in the round-house looking for
those ten thousand maravedis. Now, brother Francisco, have in those
sails, and we will lay to until the blessed sun comes up to let us have
a clearer view of this land of Zipangu. Ah, lads! you lay your heads
down to-night poor men; but if the tale be not a false one--and you see
it has been true so far--you shall not go to bed again without gold
under your pillows.”
With that the men all fell to shaking hands with each other, and could
hardly be got to take in the sails, for the excitement they were in.
And it chanced that in the general jubilee of congratulation, Diego,
whose spirits were as easily exalted as any one’s, had gone about
dancing and shaking hands like one beside himself, as indeed he was,
and had at last caught the hand of Juan before he knew it.
“I’m afraid you don’t mean it,” said Juan, half wistfully, half
laughingly; for Diego’s joy was very extravagant.
“No, I didn’t,” answered Diego, drawing back, “but indeed I am so
rejoiced that I will shake hands with you heartily if you will promise
we shall fight it out in all friendliness at the first chance.”
“That I will,” said Juan, more glad in truth of the good-will of Diego
than of the discovery of land; for he had craved Diego’s liking as
Diego, with all his self-confidence, would never have been able to
suppose.
So they shook hands again, Juan laughing with joy and Diego presently
hugging him in his excitement.
“To tell the truth,” said Diego, as they leaned over the rail together,
“I think I have wanted to shake hands with you this many a day; but I
was ashamed. And I was mad to think you had been more generous than
I--for you were; that’s the truth. But my heart is set on fighting
it out; for I think I am the master--in all friendliness you will
understand--and that I should have had the best of it that day in the
wood if we had fought it out.”
“That we shall see,” said Juan; “but anyhow we shall be friends,
whoever is the master, shall we not?”
“Truly we shall.”
“And you will not despise me for having come from the jail?” asked
Juan, trembling for the answer.
“Martin Alonzo says that it is not what you were, but what you are,”
answered Diego.
“Thank you for saying so; and some day I will tell you my story, and
you shall see that I was not so bad as you have thought, perhaps;
though to be bad at all is too bad, as I very well know. But we won’t
talk of that, now.”
“That’s as you please,” said Diego, who found himself interested even
then, with land dimly visible over the rail; though perhaps it was
because the land was there and not to be reached, that he was glad of
something to talk of. “Tell me now, or tell me never.”
“Well, it’s not much and will not take long, and then it will be done,”
said Juan, slowly. “It is this: My mother and I were starving, and I
tried to earn some bread for her and could not, and so I stole it. That
is all.”
“I should have done the same,” said Diego.
“Stealing is stealing,” said Juan, and Diego thought of the melon;
“and, after all,” he said, a little huskily, “it did no good.”
“What do you mean?” asked Diego.
“My mother died with the bread on her lips.”
Diego had nothing to say to that, but he showed his sympathy by
suddenly taking Juan’s hand and shaking it, letting it go as quickly as
he had taken it.
“The only thing,” said Juan, after a moment’s pause, “that I was glad
of was that she never knew I was taken to prison.”
“I would not think it a disgrace,” said Diego.
“But it was,” said Juan; “and if I had not come aboard here and met you
and quarrelled with you, I should have become as bad as the worst. I
had only thieves, and even murderers, for friends, and could have had
no other sort as long as I lived if I had not come on this voyage. I
should have been glad I came the voyage even if we had not discovered
Zipangu; though I would have done anything to desert at first. And now
you may whip me as much as you can, if you will only remain my friend.”
“I will, of course--glad to be; but you mustn’t let me whip you, or I
shan’t like you,” said Diego.
“Oh, I shall do my best to whip you,” said Juan.
“That’s it,” said Diego, heartily. “I wonder if you and I shall be of
the party to go ashore?”