IT was all wrong and utterly indefensible for Martin Alonzo to take the
attitude he did towards the admiral, and Martin Alonzo knew it quite as
well as any one.
Of course he justified himself to himself, and rehearsed in his own
mind how he had contributed money and influence, without which the
voyage could not have been undertaken; but down in his heart he knew
that he was bent on a wrong deed, and it must have been borne in on
his better nature that the real cause of his dislike for the admiral
was born of a union of jealousy and an insubordination which could not
brook authority from any one.
Diego felt that Martin Alonzo was intent on a thing that was wrong--his
cousin’s manner indicated that--but he could not reason on it; for he
did not clearly understand what the relations were between the captain
and the admiral. It was generally felt that Martin Alonzo was the life
and soul of the enterprise, and that the honors and authority which
were to fall to the admiral were quite undeserved.
Besides, Diego was too young, too happy in the excitement of the
voyage, to care much. He admired his cousin and loved him, and would
willingly follow his lead; and as he felt no responsibility in the
matter--having none indeed, for his clear duty was simply to obey the
orders of his captain--he gave himself no concern either at that time
or later.
It was on the morning of the 19th of November that the admiral finally
gave up hope of gaining anything by remaining on the coast of Cuba,
and turned the prows of his ships towards that island which he called
Babeque. The course set was due east, and the _Pinta_, as usual, took
the lead.
The wind was dead ahead, however, and after battling all that day and
during the night, very little progress had been made. Martin Alonzo
spent his time, as he had frequently done of late, in gnawing his
lips and fingers, and in watching, with sullen eyes, the ship of the
admiral. On the morning of the 20th he called Diego to him.
“You have been wishing to have a word with me, Diego,” he said. “What
is it?”
“The Indians say that the island we are heading for must be Bohio, and
not the Babeque of which the admiral speaks.”
“Yes,” said Martin Alonzo, “that is what I supposed. Well, neither the
_Santa Maria_ nor the _Niña_ can sail long in the teeth of this gale,
and will be obliged to turn back.”
“So Rodrigo de Triana says,” answered Diego.
“He says well. Now, go, Diego,” and he turned and walked to where his
brother, Francisco Martin, paced the unsteady poop of the _Pinta_.
It is singular how the very air seems to be charged with expectation
when a plot of any sort is brewing. The sailors of the _Pinta_ knew
that something was to happen that was out of the common, and they often
whispered when there was no need of it, and kept casting curious and
expectant glances towards the poop.
All day long the gale pelted them, and they beat about before it;
though the sailors of the _Pinta_ knew she was not doing the best she
could have done under the circumstances. They told themselves that it
was because Martin Alonzo did not choose to get too far from the other
ships.
Late in the afternoon the admiral decided that it would be better to
turn back and wait for better weather, and he therefore put his vessel
about and signalled the other two to do the same. The _Niña_ obeyed,
and the sailors of the _Pinta_ stood ready to take Martin Alonzo’s
orders. But he merely beckoned his brother and two of the gentlemen
adventurers to join him, and they talked earnestly for a few minutes,
the sailors watching them intently and whispering among themselves.
Presently Martin Alonzo separated himself from his companions, and
walked to where he could see the sailors. There was a set smile on his
face, and he said nothing for a full minute.
“Now we shall hear something startling, depend upon that,” said Juan,
in Diego’s ear.
“It is an egg he has been sitting on for some time,” said Diego, “and I
am curious to see what will be hatched.”
“My men,” said Martin Alonzo, raising his powerful voice, “come nearer.
I have something to say to you.”
There was no need of a second invitation; for the men crowded as near
as they could, and listened while they clung to any available thing;
for the vessel was tossing like a cork. Martin Alonzo stretched out his
arm towards the other ships.
“They are going back to a land where there is no gold,” he said, and
stopped.
“Ay, ay!” growled the men, looking at the ships and nodding their heads.
“I promised you all the gold you could procure,” said Martin Alonzo.
“There has not been much as yet to get; but you know whose fault it has
been that you could not have a share of what there was.”
At this the men seemed to half comprehend what was coming, and nodded
vigorously at each other and shouted, “Ay, ay!” in a way that showed
that they would not lag behind his wishes.
“But for me,” went on Martin Alonzo, “this expedition would never have
started, or, having started, would never have continued on its way. I
promised you gold and precious stones if you would keep your spirits,
and I have been prevented from keeping my promise. Well, so far we
have found but little gold; but the boy, Diego, has been learning the
language of these Indian fellows, and he has discovered that the gold
comes from a certain island, not far to the east of here. The other
ships have turned back. Shall we turn back, or shall we go on? Come! it
is for you to say. If we go it is for the purpose of letting each man
get what treasure he can, that he may have some profit out of a voyage
that has had enough of terror for us all. What is the word, men? Shall
we keep on our course, or shall we put about and return?”
“To the island!” “Gold, gold!” “Keep our course!” and such like cries
were his answer, as he very well knew they would be.
“What do you think of that?” asked Diego in a whisper of Juan.
“I think he has the gift of language, too,” answered Juan.
“Good!” said Martin Alonzo; “and now let us make our terms at the
start, so that there may be no misunderstanding. I have been at great
costs on account of this expedition, and it is but fair that I should
receive more than you. Again, I shall have to supply you with the means
of traffic. In consideration of these things, I ask you if it will not
be right that I shall take half of the gold and have the other half
divided share and share alike among you?”
The sailors had listened dubiously at the opening of this speech,
expecting to hear him propose far less advantageous terms to them; so
that when he concluded they were agreeably surprised and showed their
satisfaction in a shout of acquiescence.
Thus it was that the _Pinta_ disregarded all the signals of the admiral
and kept her course as well as she could, while the companion vessels
were forced to seek shelter on the coast of Cuba.
For a while, the feeling that they had broken loose from the supreme
authority put the sailors into a riotous state; but Martin Alonzo was
not the man to permit that. He might defy authority, himself, but no
one should disregard his authority, and he very speedily gave the
sailors to understand it; so that in a little while he had his crew in
its accustomed state of subordination.