THE SON OF
COLUMBUS
BY
MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL
AUTHOR OF
"THE LIVELY ADVENTURES OF GAVIN HAMILTON"
"THE ROCK OF THE LION"
"A VIRGINIA CAVALIER" ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
HARPER _&_ BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
MCMXII
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1912
[Illustration: THEN, RISING, THE ADMIRAL TOOK HIS SON IN HIS ARMS]
[See page 205
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. LOOKING SEAWARD 1
II. THE DAWNING OF THE LIGHT 24
III. THE CASTLE OF LANGARA 49
IV. THE LAST SIGH OF THE MOOR 72
V. THE SPLENDOR OF THE DAWN 102
VI. THE HARBOR BAR IS PASSED 134
VII. THE JOYOUS HEARTS OF YOUTH 160
VIII. SUNRISE OFF THE BAR OF SALTES 191
IX. GLORIA 214
ILLUSTRATIONS
THEN, RISING, THE ADMIRAL TOOK HIS SON IN HIS ARMS _Frontispiece_
FRAY PIÑA GLANCED WITHIN THE ROOM AND THOUGHT
THEY WERE MAKING ACQUAINTANCE VERY FAST _Facing p._ 4
GARCILOSA SUDDENLY GAVE HIS ANTAGONIST A THRUST
UPON THE SWORD-ARM " 94
THE SIGNING OF THE DOCUMENTS OF AGREEMENT " 126
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Very few liberties have been taken with history, and these few are
merely of detail. The signing of the final pact with the Spanish
sovereigns by Columbus really took place on the plains of Santa Fé,
outside of Granada, but it is represented, for dramatic effect, as
taking place in the Alhambra. Also, the celebrated order of Columbus
directing his captains, after sailing seven hundred and fifty leagues
due west, to make no more sail after midnight was given at the Canaries
instead of at Palos. Irving's _Life of Columbus_, the best yet written,
has been strictly followed in dates.
M. E. S.
THE
SON OF COLUMBUS
I
LOOKING SEAWARD
On a bright October noon in 1491 two lads sat in a small tower room
in the monastery of La Rabida, talking together with that profound
interest which two human beings feel, who have recently met and whose
lives will be closely united for some time to come. One of them was Don
Felipe de Langara y Gama, already, at sixteen, the head of one of the
greatest ducal families in Castile. The other was Diego, the eldest son
of the Genoese navigator and map-maker, by name, Christopher Columbus,
or, as the Spaniards called him, Christobal Colon.
The lads were fine types of two extremes of station. Diego was a
model of sturdy strength for his age. He inherited the piercing blue
eyes of the Genoese navigator--those commanding eyes, once seen, were
unforgettable. His fair skin was freckled by living much in the open,
and his wide, frank mouth expressed resolution as well as a charming
gaiety of heart. Diego, however, could be serious enough when occasion
required. He had known more in his short life of the rubs of fortune,
of hope deferred, of splendid dreams and heartbreaking disappointments,
of courts, of camps, of penury, of luxury, than many men know in the
course of a long span of years.
Don Felipe, born in a palace and knowing that at sixteen he would
inherit the wealth and splendid honors of his dead father, the Duke
de Langara y Gama, was yet all simplicity and good sense. His slight
figure was more muscular than it appeared, and the softness of his
black eyes belied the firmness of his character.
Both lads alike were dressed with extreme plainness, the grandee of
Spain wearing no better clothes than the son of the Genoese captain.
They were so absorbed in each other that they had no eyes for the
glowing scene visible through the iron-studded door, open wide upon
the parapet. Below them lay the green gardens and orchards of the
monastery. Beyond, stretched the town and the port of Palos, where the
masts and hulls of the caravels and other vessels of the time were
outlined against the deep sea and blue sky. Some of these vessels were
unloading, and others were taking on their cargoes, the sailors singing
cheerfully as they worked. Farther off still, the "white horses" of the
blue Atlantic dashed wildly over the bar of Saltes, the sun glittering
upon the crested waves. Over the whole of the Andalusian coast and the
rolling hills beyond was that atmosphere of peace and plenty which made
Andalusia to be called the Granary, the Wine Cellar, the Gold Purse,
and the Garden of Spain.
The two lads were quite oblivious of all this, and even of the nearness
of their instructor, Fray Piña, the young ecclesiastic who had charge
of them, and who was at that moment leaning over the parapet outside
the open door. Fray Piña glanced within the room; he could not hear
what Diego and Don Felipe were saying, but it was evident from their
attitudes--both leaning eagerly across the rough table, strewn with
writing implements and the manuscript books of the period--that they
were deeply interested in each other.
"They are making acquaintance very fast," thought Fray Piña to himself.
"It is best to leave them alone. Don Felipe needs the companionship of
just such a boy as Diego, and Diego needs the companionship of just
such a boy as Don Felipe."
It was this very point which the boys were discussing.
"And so," Don Felipe was saying, "my mother, Doña Christina, who is
obliged to be much at court, because she is a lady-in-waiting to Queen
Isabella, said the court was not a good place in which a youth should
be wholly brought up, especially a faithless youth like me. Nor does
my mother think it well to have my sister, Doña Luisita, at court yet,
as she is but fourteen; so Luisita remains with her governess at the
castle of Langara when my mother attends the Queen. And my mother asked
Fray Piña to take charge of me for a year, with another youth of my
age, and without rank; and we should be schooled together, and dress
plainly, and be disciplined."
[Illustration: FRAY PIÑA GLANCED WITHIN THE ROOM AND THOUGHT THEY WERE
MAKING ACQUAINTANCE VERY FAST]
"I think Fray Piña is the man for discipline," replied Diego, laughing.
"And I suppose your lady mother knew that Fray Piña would treat us
exactly alike--you, a grandee of Spain, and I, the son of the Genoese
navigator, Christobal Colon, as the Spaniards call my father. But look
you, Don Felipe, I am the son of the greatest man who ever trod Spanish
earth, and some day the world will know my father to be that man."
As Diego said this he straightened up and looked Don Felipe in the
eye; he expected his statement to be questioned. Don Felipe, however,
surprised him by saying, quietly:
"So Fray Piña told Doña Christina, my mother."
A flush of gratified pride shone in Diego's frank face.
"My father will still be the bravest navigator that ever lived, even
if he never returns from his voyage," continued Diego, proudly. "All
the other navigators in the world have been satisfied to creep along
the shores, never going out of sight of land. My father means to steer
straight into the uncharted seas, sailing due west. He will have but
two nautical instruments, a compass and an astrolabe, but he will have
the stars by night and the sun by day, and God's hand to help him--for
my father is a man who fears God and nothing else. He will steer due
west, and will come to a great continent with vast ranges of mountains,
superb rivers, larger and longer than any we know, huge bodies of
water, mines of gold and silver and minerals of all sorts, strange
birds, animals, and peoples--everything far more splendid than this old
Europe. All the seafaring men believe in my father--far more than the
learned men do--because the sailors know that my father understands
more about the seas than any living man. Already, although my father is
not an admiral, the captains and the pilots and the sailors at Palos
call him the Admiral. Every mariner in the port of Palos bows low to my
father."
"But he will be an admiral before he sails," said Don Felipe, catching
Diego's enthusiasm.
"Yes," answered Diego, "he demands that he shall become the Admiral
of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and Captain-General over all the lands he
discovers. And also my father asks, if he goes on this great errand
for Spain, that I shall be taken to the court with you and become a
page-in-waiting to Prince Juan, the heir to the thrones of Arragon and
Castile. Is that much to ask? Well, my father will do ten thousand
times more for Spain."
"Perhaps," said Don Felipe, after a pause, "that is why we are to be
schooled together and then go to court together. Are you frightened at
the thought of the court?"
"No," answered Diego, sturdily.
"I never heard," said Don Felipe, "of a foreigner and the son of a man
without rank being page to a royal prince."
"It is the first time," said Diego, calmly, "and it will not often be
repeated. If the other pages, sons of the greatest nobles of Castile
and Arragon, dare to say anything to me about it I have my answer
ready. I will say, 'I am the son of a man who never said or did a base
thing in his life, who is courteous to a beggar, and not abashed in the
presence of kings and queens--for I have seen my father in the presence
of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella--who honors God, and who is the
very boldest man that ever sailed blue water."
"That is right," said Don Felipe, "but I can tell you, Diego, there
are a great many things at court that are not pleasant. You think Fray
Piña is strict. He is not half as strict as the master of the pages at
court. For when anything goes wrong Fray Piña will listen to an excuse,
but the master of the pages listens to no excuses. The pages of honor
are required to be on duty long hours and are not permitted to read or
do anything except to watch their royal masters and mistresses. They
must rise early and stay up late. They can have no games or amusements
except those which are permitted the royal princes. I warrant, Diego,
there will be many times when you will long for the fields and orchards
of La Rabida, the fishing in the summer, and being able to play with
any boy you may like, and to read a pleasant book when so inclined."
"That may be true," replied Diego, stoutly, "but we shall have the
horse exercise and the sword exercise; we shall see much of soldiers,
and we shall enjoy living like men instead of like boys. But, after
all," he cried, laughing, "I am not yet at court. The King and Queen
are still considering whether they shall help my father. Only of one
thing I am certain--that my father will one day be a great discoverer."
"I know it, too," said Don Felipe, with boyish confidence. "The very
first time I beheld your father I felt as I never did toward any man
before. I watched him, and listened to him, thinking to myself, 'When I
am an old man the boys will ask me, "Tell me when did you first see the
great Admiral?"' And I want you to tell me how you first came to this
place."
"I remember it all well enough, although I was but a little lad of
seven--just as old as my little brother Fernando is now. I even
remember things before that--the life I led with my father, going from
place to place on foot, sleeping at the humblest inns and in the huts
of peasants, nobody willing to listen to my father. Then my father made
for the sea, there to take ship for England, and when we reached the
monastery gate I was half dead, I was so hungry and tired. My father
rang the bell and asked a little milk for me. It was brought me by
Brother Lawrence, the lay brother here; he was a young man then. Oh,
you will like Brother Lawrence--he is here still. While I was drinking
the milk, the Prior, Juan Perez, passed through the courtyard where we
sat and stopped and spoke to my father. I tell you this, Don Felipe, no
matter whether people believed in my father or not in those days, they
always treated him with personal respect. The Prior got in conversation
with my father, and in a little while told Brother Lawrence to take
care of me. Oh, what a happy day that was! All day Brother Lawrence
took care of me, playing ball in the orchard and teaching me to fish
in the fish-pond, and at night he put me to bed on a little pallet in
a room where my father was to sleep. All day the Prior had been with
my father, and I recollect that I was waked by my father coming into
the room, and the Prior followed him. It was as if he could not leave
my father. Then I went off to sleep, and in the middle of the night I
again waked, and my father and the Prior were still bending over the
maps and talking. I remember, however, I was such a little boy, that I
thought we should have to leave that happy place at daybreak and take
the road once more in weariness. But in the morning my father asked me:
"'Diego, do you like this place?'
"And I said yes, and I was so sorry we were going away, and he said:
"'We shall remain here some days, my little Diego.'
"That made me so happy! We stayed here fourteen days. I played all day
long in the orchard and by the fish-pond with Brother Lawrence. And
then there were other boys, the two Pinzons, Martin and Alonzo, and the
son of the physician Dr. Garcia, and the sons of the pilot Fernando
Rodriguez."
Diego suddenly stopped talking. He had the instinctive good sense not
to talk too much about himself.
"Go on," cried Don Felipe, "I want to know every word about your
father, everything that happened, so when I am an old man I shall be
able to tell people about the great Admiral."
Diego's eyes shone, and he kept on.
"All the seafaring men in Palos, especially the great ship-owners the
Pinzons and the pilot Rodriguez, were called to the monastery by the
Prior, and they all listened to my father and wondered and admired,
and told the Prior my father was right and by sailing to the westward
he would discover land. So, then, the Prior wrote a letter to the
great Queen Isabella, whom he knew, and sent it to her by Rodriguez
the pilot. Rodriguez came back saying the Queen commanded my father
to come to her at Cordova. He went to Cordova, and took me along. I
was sorry to leave Brother Lawrence and the boys I played with every
day. I do not recollect much about Cordova, I was such a little lad.
I thought I should see the great Queen Isabella with her crown on and
King Ferdinand with his scepter, and how surprised I was when I saw
only a gentle lady, very simply dressed, sitting with the King in
a small room. They were, however, on a dais, and I sat down on the
steps. Presently I fell asleep, and when I waked up my head was on the
Queen's knee, and she was looking down at me with smiling eyes. I do
not remember my own mother; but when I looked into the eyes of Queen
Isabella I knew what a mother's eyes were like. She was ever kind to
me later, in all the many times that my father wearily went to court
and followed the King and Queen about, even when encamped with their
soldiers."
"When will your father return?" asked Don Felipe.
"I do not know; but it will be soon, I think."
As Diego spoke there was a sound of clattering hoofs on the stones of
the courtyard.
"That is my father!" said Diego.
At that moment Fray Piña turned from the parapet and entered the room.
Instantly both lads bent over their books as if they had no thought but
study. Fray Piña smiled slightly; they had not looked at a book since
their tutor had been out of the room.
Fray Piña took up a treatise on mathematics and began to question
the two boys. Neither of them did very well, their thoughts being
with the Admiral in the courtyard and the news he might bring from
Granada, where the siege of the Moorish city was in progress, and the
success he might have had with the Spanish sovereigns. But Fray Piña
went on relentlessly. Diego felt as if he could scarcely remain in
his seat; and Don Felipe's eyes wandered everywhere, his wits going
with his eyes. At last a knock was heard at the door, and the ruddy,
good-natured, boyish face of Brother Lawrence, the young lay brother
who worked in the garden and milked the cows and attended to the mules,
appeared at the door.
"His Excellency Christobal Colon," he said, giving Columbus the name
the Spaniards called him, "has arrived, and begs Fray Piña to excuse
Diego for an hour."
"You are excused," said Fray Piña; and the next moment was heard the
sound of Diego's footsteps as he rushed down the stone stairs, two at a
time, and dashed into the sunny courtyard.
Standing in the courtyard talking with the Prior, Juan Perez, was
Columbus. From him had Diego inherited the tall, slim, but muscular
figure. The hair of the great Admiral was quite white; his complexion
was weather-beaten; his eyes were the eyes of a man born a captain.
All masters of men have the indomitable eye--the eye whose glance
conveys the command of a master before the lips can speak the word. In
Columbus the power to command was writ large all over him--not only to
command others, but to command himself.
Suddenly the little Fernando, seven years old, led by Brother Lawrence,
came into the courtyard and ran forward, and at the same moment Diego
appeared. Instantly the Admiral's stern face softened. He took the
little boy in his arms, kissing and blessing him, and then clasped
Diego to his breast.
Diego caught his father in a strong embrace, and rubbed his smooth,
boyish cheek against the Admiral's bronzed face.
The Admiral, as he was already popularly called, returned warmly the
boy's caress, and then, holding him off at arm's length, said to him:
"How have you behaved since last I saw you?"
"Not very well," answered Diego, candidly, looking into his father's
eyes. "It is so hard to study in sunny weather, and Don Felipe and I
went fishing and overstayed our time twice."
The Admiral said nothing; and the Prior, a grave, handsome man, but not
unkindly in his aspect, looked hard at Diego.
"Then," said Diego, after a pause, and forcing himself to speak, "the
first day Don Felipe came I found the Prior's mule at large, and Don
Felipe and I got Fray Piña's mule out of the stable and ran races until
we were caught and stopped."
"And punished," added the Prior, quietly. "But there has been no lying
or deceit or anything base in the conduct of your son, Christobal
Colon."
"Then," answered the Admiral, "the rest is easily forgiven. Return now
to your studies, and when I have finished my conversation with the
Prior, and when Fray Piña will give you leave, then will I speak with
you at length."
The Admiral was more indulgent to the little Fernando, who remained,
clinging to his father's hand.
Diego returned to the tower room quickly. He might have lagged, but
he knew that the Admiral's silent watchfulness followed him. When he
sat down again at the table he made an honest effort to concentrate
his mind on what Fray Piña was saying, and managed to do so until the
mathematical lesson was over. Then was it time to go to the refectory
for dinner. The refectory was a large, bare room except for a long
table at which the monks dined. At the farther end sat the Prior with
the Admiral, as the guest of honor, on his right. No conversation was
allowed, and after grace was said one of the monks at a reading-desk
read aloud from the Scriptures while the simple meal went on. Diego
heard not one word of what was being read. He could only fix his eyes
upon his father, across whose gray head a beam of sunlight shone like
an aureole. The Admiral, however, put strict attention to the reading.
It was as if his extraordinary mind, like everything about him, were
under the control of his will and, as a revolving light, could be
turned at pleasure upon any subject.
When dinner was over, the two youths expected, as usual, to be given an
hour's recreation in the sunny orchard in which was a fish-pond, that
was Diego's delight. But he was bitterly disappointed when Fray Piña
said to him:
"It was this day a week ago that you and Don Felipe raced the
mules. Let us go up to the study now and spend that wasted hour in
mathematics."
Diego and Don Felipe exchanged rueful glances, but said nothing. Fray
Piña had a deadly ingenuity in paying off for all their pranks, and had
no doubt waited for this day when the orchard and the fish-pond and the
blue sky called to the lads, "Come and be happy." Instead, however, of
talking and fishing and frolicking, as they usually did at that hour,
the two lads spent the time being put through their paces by Fray Piña.
By the time they had answered one question another was propounded, and
the blackboard in the tower room was covered with figures. It was a
sort of mental exercise for Fray Piña himself, and when the hour was
over Diego and Don Felipe were thoroughly tired out with hard work and
incessant figuring.
Fray Piña himself looked weary, and his black hair lay damp upon his
forehead under his skull-cap.
"You have both done well," he said, "and showed more proficiency than
I expected. You may now have two hours' recreation instead of one. The
Prior's mule and mine are both in the stable, but I apprehend they are
both safe."
Diego and Don Felipe hung their heads at this, but were glad to rush
into the fresh, bright air once more.
In the kitchen garden, next the orchard, they found Brother Lawrence,
of whom both were fond. One of their favorite amusements was to engage
in wrestling bouts with Brother Lawrence. Diego was strong for his
age, and Don Felipe was a skilful wrestler; but they were no match for
the brawny lay brother, who, with his cassock tucked up, laid the two
youths out on the grass at his pleasure.
At last came the message for which Diego had been longing, to go
to his father in the Admiral's room. Diego first ran to the little
room which he occupied with Don Felipe, and washed off the stains he
had encountered with the green earth, and put on a collar of clean
linen--the Admiral was irreproachably neat and always rebuked sternly
the least untidiness on the part of Diego. In a few minutes Diego
found himself in the guest-chamber with a window looking seaward.
The Admiral was gazing out toward the Atlantic with an expression of
concentration. His eyesight was extraordinarily strong and clear, and
at fifty-three he could see farther than Diego's young eyes. He turned
as Diego entered and clasped the boy in his arms. Grave as was the
great Admiral, no man had more in him of tenderness. The Admiral seated
himself in a great chair, and Diego, drawing up a stool, put his arm
about his father's neck and prepared to listen.
"The time has come, Diego," said the Admiral, "when King Ferdinand and
Queen Isabella will redeem their promise. They told me that when the
end of the war to drive the Moors from Spain was in sight, they would
then provide me with ships for my enterprise. The Moors are now in
their death struggle in the city of Granada, their last stronghold.
The city is encompassed on every side; every gate is commanded and no
provisions can enter. Nor can the Moors make any sortie beyond the
Vega, because the armies of Castile and Arragon are encamped about
them, and the town of Santa Fé stands guard over the main gate of
Granada, called the Gate of Justice. The Moors cannot hold out longer
than the first of the year, and I think it well to be upon the spot
to remind the King and the Queen of their promise. I have seen and
talked with Doña Christina de Langara y Gama, the mother of Don Felipe.
She is a woman of wisdom and good heart, and she thinks it will be
well to have Don Felipe and you go to Santa Fé. It will be a lesson
in learning and valor to you both and will give you the opportunity
of seeing great events and greater persons. If my request is granted,
that you be made a page of honor to Prince Juan, I would wish that you
should see something first of the persons to whom you may be attached.
I have great confidence in Doña Christina, who has promised to take an
interest in you while I am on my voyage. It is arranged that Fray Piña
and Don Felipe shall spend some weeks at the castle of Langara, and
Doña Christina has asked that you remain there while I go on to Santa
Fé. I shall go to Santa Fé alone, not knowing what my plans are until I
have an audience with the King and the Queen. Doña Christina is now at
Langara, but after some days she will proceed to Santa Fé to attend the
Queen."
Diego could scarcely believe his ears for joy. In an instant he
realized the splendid prospect: he was to go to Granada, to witness
the end of the siege, to see the King and the Queen, soldiers
and statesmen--it seemed like a glorious dream to a spirited and
imaginative boy. His face glowed so that his father smiled.
"Does Don Felipe know?" gasped Diego.
"I do not know," answered the Admiral, smiling; "but I do know that you
long to tell him. I had many other things to say to you; but I have not
the heart to keep you. Go--"
Before the Admiral could finish his sentence Diego had darted out of
the room. He caught sight, as he passed a window, of Don Felipe sitting
on a bench near the fish-pond reading a book in the waning afternoon
light. The first thing Don Felipe knew Diego had dashed upon him,
snatched the book from his hand, and was saying, joyfully:
"Don Felipe! Don Felipe! We are to go to Granada to see the end of
the siege! We may see fighting--think of it, Don Felipe! We shall see
soldiers, Don Felipe! And make a fine journey! And my father says your
mother, Doña Christina, has asked that we may stay some weeks at the
castle of Langara, Don Felipe!"
The Admiral, passing the same window through which Diego had seen Don
Felipe, glanced out and saw the two lads dancing wildly, their arms
about each other, Don Felipe's cap, with the insignia of his rank, on
Diego's head, and Diego's cap, with no design at all, on Don Felipe's
head. The sight brought a smile to the Admiral's face.
II
THE DAWNING OF THE LIGHT
Soon it was time for supper, and all assembled once more in the great,
bare refectory. Diego and Don Felipe felt as if they were in a dream,
so dazzled were they by the prospect before them. They had known what
the Admiral had demanded, and with the sanguine nature of youth they
thought that all the Admiral asked would be conceded, and already
reckoned the great voyage to have been accomplished. But to go to
Granada, to see the close of the stupendous struggle, to be present
in the hour of victory, was more than they had dreamed. Nevertheless,
though lost in rosy visions, they did not forget to eat their simple
supper. When it was over and they went out into the courtyard, the
Admiral passed them, holding by the hand the little Fernando.
"Go now," said the Admiral to the child, "and find Brother Lawrence,
that he may put you to bed, where you must sleep soundly until the
birds call you in the morning."
The child, used to prompt obedience, went away; and then the Admiral
said to the two youths:
"Come, Don Felipe and Diego, and walk with me to the seashore, and I
will tell you some of the wonderful things of the sea."
Don Felipe's heart throbbed with pleasure. He felt a strange sense of
being honored when he was treated as a son by the Admiral.
It was then about six o'clock on a warm October evening. Not yet was
the sun gone, and the western sky was all opal and gold and crimson.
The rosy light reddened the far-off sea, and the white billows gleamed
with an opaline light.
The Admiral walked between the two lads along the sandy road to the
little town of Palos. Softly the bells of the little church of St.
George were ringing, their mellow music mingling with the distant echo
of waves beating the bar off the harbor. As the sound of bells reached
them the Admiral remained silent; Diego knew that his father was making
a silent prayer, a thing he often did. Presently he spoke:
"I love to hear the melody of church bells mingling with the sound of
the sea, for the sea has a majestic voice like the voice of God."
Then the Admiral began telling them some of the marvels of the sea,
speaking in plain and sailor-like language. Soon they entered the
one long street of the town of Palos. The day's labor was over for
all, except the crews of some Neapolitan vessels loading in haste in
order to catch the tide that would take them over the bar, the sailors
working cheerfully, singing as they toiled. The women were standing
at their doorways, their children about them, while the workmen were
returning from their labors. Many were seafaring men who had made many
voyages. They all turned and looked curiously after the Admiral, every
one saluting him with respect. When his back was turned some smiled;
and some predicted evil, saying:
"That man will take away with him some of the best mariners of Palos,
and they will never be seen again."
Others said:
"We shall try to go upon that bold voyage."
The Admiral returned all salutations with dignity and courtesy. Then,
with the two lads, he entered the Church of St. George, which was
already dark. Before the altar burned the undying sanctuary lamp. An
old priest was leaving the altar, followed by a small fisher-boy not
much bigger than the little Fernando and wearing a white surplice over
a scarlet cassock. When they were gone the Admiral and Diego and Don
Felipe were in the church alone.
The Admiral knelt, as did the two youths, the Admiral kneeling so
long that Diego and Don Felipe began to look with yearning toward the
open door of the church, through which the cheerful sounds of evening
floated. The voice of the night watchman calling the hour was heard as
he marched up and down the street carrying a lantern on a pole. Sounds
of music and dancing rang from the courtyard of a little tavern near
by, where a pack-train of mules had just arrived and the muleteers
were making merry. The two youths were not often allowed out of the
monastery at that hour, and they longed with the longing of boyhood
to see the life and the gaiety of the town. A half-hour passed, and
Diego and Felipe had remained admirably quiet; but now the limit of
boyish endurance was reached. Don Felipe began to cough, and Diego
knocked over a footstool which made a fearful clatter in the stillness
of the darkened church. The Admiral rose and walked out, followed by
Diego and Don Felipe. Never had the little seaport looked gayer or
more picturesque. From many balconies and casements came the sounds of
singing, and a handsome cavalier in a velvet mantle was coming down the
street strumming his guitar and rehearsing the song he intended to sing
under the window of his lady-love.
On the quay some sailors were dancing to their own singing. All these
sights and sounds were delightful to Diego and Don Felipe; and the
Admiral, who had not forgotten that he was once a boy himself, indulged
them in watching these pleasant sights.
A number of fishwives, their skirts tucked up about their hips, stood
watching the dancing sailors and laughing. Diego, moved by a sudden
impulse, ran up to a fat old fishwife, and seizing her by the hand
rushed into the middle of the dancers and began the fandango. At that
even the grave Admiral laughed.
Don Felipe made no move to join the dancers; but another fishwife, much
stouter than the friend of Diego, suddenly made a dash for him, crying:
"Come along, you pretty boy, and dance with me like a gentleman!"
Don Felipe, with perfect grace and politeness, gave the fishwife his
hand as though she were a court lady, and danced the fandango well and
gracefully.
The Admiral, leaning against a stone wall, watched the merry scene. He
was too wise to check the effervescent spirits of the two lads, and
waited with as much patience for them to finish their frolic as they
had waited for him to finish his prayers in the church. After half an
hour, however, when the church bells chimed seven o'clock, the Admiral
turned and walked away from the town toward the shore, where there were
only a few fishermen's huts. By the time he was clear of the quays he
heard footsteps behind him, and Diego and Don Felipe were running at
top speed to join him.
"I hope," said the Admiral, turning pleasantly to the two youths, "that
you enjoyed your dancing. When I was your age I did the same thing;
I grew sober at an early age, but I do not like too much sobriety in
early youth."
"But, my father," said Diego, taking his father affectionately by the
arm, "you gave up dancing very early; but did you give up the love of
fighting quite so soon? I have heard something about the time you tried
to provoke a fight with the Florentine fleet and dashed among them
shouting, 'Viva San Giorgione!' the battle-cry of the Genoese."
"It was a rash and foolish thing," replied the Admiral; "but I did many
rash and foolish things in my youth. Genoa seemed then on the verge
of war with Florence, and I was in command of a decked vessel in the
Genoese fleet, under the command of my uncle Giovanni. We were going up
the Mediterranean with a fair wind when we discovered the Florentine
fleet of nine vessels coming down toward us on the same tack. My
vessel, the San Giorgione, was a fast sailer both on and off the wind
and answered the helm beautifully. It came into my head that it would
be a good thing for the cause of my country if we could destroy the
Florentine fleet then and there; but we could not attack them without
provocation. Like a rash young man, I thought it would be well to give
the Florentines provocation enough to attack us; so, knowing well the
capacity of my vessel, I steered directly under the quarter of the
Florentine flag-ship. The Florentine admiral was standing on the poop
as we brushed past; when we came abreast of him I shouted, 'Viva San
Giorgione!' as if the battle were on, and expected an answering cry
from the Florentines. But, mark you, the admiral was a steady man, not
to be provoked by a wild young captain such as I was then. He raised
his cap to me and shouted back, smiling, 'Viva San Giorgione!' with the
greatest politeness. It was the last thing I expected, and disconcerted
me much. I have often admired the coolness and restraint of the
Florentine admiral who would not allow himself to be moved by a piece
of boyish insolence. After all, there was no outbreak of war between
the two governments; but there might have been if the Florentine
admiral had not been so wise and master of himself."
Don Felipe had never seen Diego and his father together before, and
Diego's affectionate familiarity with the Admiral impressed Don Felipe
deeply. His first feeling toward the Admiral had been one of awe, for
there was a dignity and majesty in his bearing that struck all who saw
him. But also there was a gentle unbending and sympathy with youth. Don
Felipe soon felt no more afraid of the Admiral than did Diego, and when
the Admiral stopped and gazed out toward the ocean, leaning an arm upon
the shoulder of each of the youths, Don Felipe felt his heart swell
with gratification and affection.
Don Felipe asked the Admiral many questions, to which he responded and
told them things of the deepest interest.
The monastery of La Rabida closed its gates at half-past eight o'clock,
and a few minutes before the closing the Admiral and Diego and Don
Felipe walked under the gray archway. The two lads went immediately to
the small, bare room which they shared together, and each was soon in
his hard little bed. But neither could sleep. Both were excited by the
thought of their coming journey; and Don Felipe was eager to see his
mother, Doña Christina, and his young sister, Doña Luisita.
"Is the castle of Langara very grand?" asked Diego, in a whisper.
"Not very," answered Don Felipe, who was too sensible to boast of the
splendors to which he was accustomed. "But I love to be there, because
the life is very quiet and pleasant. My sister Luisita and I spent all
our childhood there. I long to see my sister--the sweetest sister in
the world. She is not kept so close with her governess as most girls,
and we are much together when I am at home. Oh, you will like Luisita!"
Diego said nothing. Don Felipe was his comrade; but he realized that
Don Felipe's sister was a young lady of high rank, and he felt a
natural delicacy in speaking of her.
"Fray Piña is to go with us," Diego whispered, after a while, in a
slightly complaining whisper.
"Then we shall have to work at our books," promptly whispered back
Don Felipe. "All that I fear is that the siege of Granada may be over
before we get there."
Next morning preparations were begun for the journey to the castle of
Langara, in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and later, to Granada. On the
following morning, in the cool, sweet October dawn, the cavalcade set
forth. First rode the Admiral and Fray Piña, with the good Prior, Juan
Perez, who was to ride one stage of the journey with them. All were
mounted on the steady and sure-footed mules which were ordinarily used
for traveling. Diego and Don Felipe were also on mule-back.
Soon the sea was left behind, and the party began to mount the
foothills. They traveled steadily, and did not draw rein, except to
breathe the mules, until nearly eleven o'clock. Then, in a glade a
little way off from the highroad, they stopped for rest and their
midday meal. When it was over, their elders talked gravely together
before the Prior returned to La Rabida.
Diego and Don Felipe were left to themselves. They had no notion of
resting quietly, and wandered about the forest, their arms entwined,
putting into words their splendid dreams of adventure, which they were
careful not to let their elders overhear. Don Felipe was talking of
the prospect of once more seeing his mother, Doña Christina, and his
sister, Doña Luisita.
"How glad Luisita will be to see me again!" he cried, a dozen times.
"You see, Luisita leads a very retired life; she has not so many things
to interest her as I have, and, although I love her just as much as she
loves me, I think she is lonelier without me than I am without her."
"I wonder," said Diego, "if we will find at the castle your cousin, Don
Tomaso de Gama, the daredevil knight of whom you have so often told me?
I should like to meet him, you may depend upon it."
"I hope we shall," cried Don Felipe. "He is the finest knight in the
world, and so gay and handsome--oh, everybody likes Don Tomaso!"
Presently they were called to make their respects to the Prior, who was
returning to La Rabida; this they did with much politeness. They loved
the good Prior; but they were glad they were not going back with him.
At three o'clock they resumed their journey. They traveled all the
afternoon, the road ever rising. At nightfall they stopped at a humble
inn, only frequented by the poorest class of travelers; but there
was nothing better in the neighborhood. Diego thought the supper the
worst he had ever tasted, the small, close rooms dark and dirty, and
he felt inclined to speak of these discomforts. Everything at La
Rabida was plain, but clean and wholesome. But he noticed that the
Admiral and Fray Piña made no complaint, and Don Felipe, accustomed
to the splendors of a court and a castle, said no word showing
dissatisfaction; and Diego was shamed into keeping silence.
Next morning they resumed their journey. It was but three days
to Granada; but the castle of Langara lay a long distance to the
northward, and it was a good four days' journey to reach it. The
weather remained beautifully clear, although the autumn air grew sharp
as they climbed farther into the mountains. Diego and Don Felipe
enjoyed every step they traveled, and when they reached another bad
inn, the second night, were secretly delighted that there was no room
for them, so they had to sleep, rolled in their cloaks and blankets,
on a little balcony open to the sky, with the quiet stars shining down
upon them.
The third night the two lads again slept out, this time in the
courtyard of an inn. It was expected that they would reach the castle
of Langara by six o'clock on the fourth evening. They were now well
into the Sierra Nevada Mountains and were climbing a rocky road which
led to a plateau upon which the castle stood. The trees were quite
leafless, and they could see at intervals the great gray mass of the
castle, which seemed much nearer than it was by road, as the highway
ran around the base of the plateau and was ever on the rise.
The daylight was not quite gone, and a crescent moon hung in the
heavens, while a rosy glow flooded the western sky, and a band of gold
on the horizon marked the departure of the royal sun.
As the travelers rode steadily on they heard upon the stony path ahead
the clatter of a horse's iron-shod hoofs coming at a hard gallop, and
in a few minutes a cavalier came into view and rode straight for the
Admiral.
"It is my cousin, Don Tomaso de Gama, called by some the Daredevil
Knight," whispered Don Felipe to Diego.
The appearance of Don Tomaso was most attractive to young eyes. He was
extremely handsome, with a sparkle in his eyes; his horsemanship was
superb, and his manner, in speaking to the Admiral, graceful, though
somewhat more debonair than was usual with those who addressed him.
Don Tomaso, pulling up his horse, a powerful chestnut, bowed politely
to the Admiral, and said:
"I believe I am addressing Admiral Christobal Colon. I come from the
noble lady Doña Christina, who sends me in advance to say that she is
expecting with much eagerness you and your party, and that the castle
and all that is in it are at your disposal. Oh! Hulloa! Yonder is
little Felipe! How are you, lad?"
The Admiral bowed and smiled, while Don Felipe was secretly anxious for
fear Don Tomaso had not treated the Admiral with the deference to which
he was accustomed.
Having been introduced to the rest of the party, Don Tomaso rode beside
the Admiral and entered into conversation with him. All, including
Diego and Don Felipe, noticed a marked change that came over Don
Tomaso as he conversed with the Admiral. The somewhat saucy manner of
the Daredevil Knight grew every moment more respectful and he finally
brought a smile to the Admiral's grave face by frankly saying:
"I do not wonder that you can treat with kings and princes as an equal.
You are the first man I ever met of whom I was really afraid--but I
grew afraid of you before you had spoken three times to me!"
The party now entered a narrow road, leading by many windings to the
castle gates. It was very dark and overhung with rocks and trees and
capable of being defended. When they came out upon an open place in
front of the fortress-like castle and faced the drawbridge, which was
down, Don Tomaso took from his doublet a silver trumpet and gave three
ringing blasts upon it. A warder on the tower of the main gateway
replied with a single loud trumpet-call.
Lights were moving in the castle, and upon the highest point of the
parapet there were figures faintly seen in the fast-falling darkness.
"I see my mother and Luisita on the parapet!" cried Don Felipe, seizing
Diego's arm.
Once inside the gateway the party dismounted, their tired mules were
led away, and they crossed on foot a splendid courtyard with majestic
piles of buildings all around it. Diego had never seen anything so fine
in his life.
They entered the castle by a low and heavy archway with swinging
lanterns overhead, while servants carried torches on the tips of long
pikes.
There, standing under the central lantern, stood the Duchess de Langara
y Gama. Diego's first impression of her was of a mingling of dignity
with kindness, grace with stateliness. She was still beautiful,
although no longer young, and the resemblance of Don Felipe to her was
marked. Her dress was of dark-blue velvet, and her hair was adorned
with jewels. Next her stood Doña Luisita, a charming young girl of
fourteen, the image of Don Felipe, with soft dark eyes and a skin like
ivory. Over her rich black hair was a thin white veil that fell to the
edge of her white gown. As Doña Luisita stood under the mellow light of
lanterns and torches, her white gown and flowing veil showing against
the dark background, her hands clasped as she gazed toward Don Felipe,
she seemed to Diego like an angel, all whiteness and purity. Don
Felipe, standing next to Diego, held his arms out wide to his sister.
The two could scarcely keep apart while their elders made ceremonious
greetings.
"Welcome," said Doña Christina to the Admiral, adding the picturesque
Spanish phrase: "My house and all that is in it are yours."
The Admiral bowed profoundly and kissed Doña Christina's hand and that
of Doña Luisita, who was introduced to him. Then Don Felipe advanced
and was folded in the arms of his mother and sister. The rest of the
party were introduced, Don Felipe saying, as the Admiral presented
Diego:
"This is my good friend and comrade, Diego."
Nothing could exceed the kindness of Doña Christina's manner to Diego;
and Doña Luisita made him a low bow in return for his.
Doña Christina, turning to the Admiral, said:
"My son is now the head of the house, and must take his father's place.
He is inexperienced; but, like me, he feels honored by your presence
under our roof. I know very well the high esteem in which the Queen
holds you and wishes all to hold you."
The Admiral expressed his thanks, and then, Doña Christina leading the
way, they ascended a wide stone stair, and still another stair, where
the apartments for the Admiral and Fray Piña were prepared.
"You are to sleep in the same room with me," whispered Don Felipe in
Diego's ear. "I asked my mother to arrange it so."
After saying that supper would be served as soon as the travelers were
refreshed, Doña Christina went to her own part of the castle. Doña
Luisita had mysteriously disappeared. Don Felipe threaded his way
through many halls and corridors, all very splendid, past sumptuous
chambers, until he came to a large room with many small windows. It was
comfortably furnished, but without luxury.
"This was my room always," said Don Felipe. "There is a room next it
where I studied, and my sister often studied there with me. Below are
my mother's apartments and my sister's. It is surprising how fast my
sister is becoming a woman."
Diego said nothing of Doña Luisita, rather to Don Felipe's surprise.
As soon as the lads were washed and dressed, after their long day's
travel, they were summoned to supper. It was served in a splendid
hall, hung with armor and with tapestries. The table was long, for
the household was large. At the head of the table sat Doña Christina,
with the Admiral on her right and Doña Luisita on her left. Next
Doña Luisita sat her governess, whose name, Señora Julia Enriquez,
Don Felipe whispered to Diego. She was very grave in manner and
appearance, but not unhandsome. Don Felipe, taking the seat of his
dead father, was at the foot of the table, and Fray Piña was placed on
his right.
The supper was sumptuous and ceremonious. Doña Christina was all
kindness to the Admiral, and her good sense and dignity were displayed
in her conversation.
When supper was over Doña Christina retired to her apartment; and Don
Felipe, after seeing that all his guests were comfortable in their
rooms, went to his own, where he found Diego.
"I think," said Diego, gravely, "that Señora Julia is the sternest and
severest lady I ever saw. She must be worse than Fray Piña."
Don Felipe laughed aloud at this.
"Señora Julia takes it out in looking stern. She is the mildest
creature on earth. My mother says the only fault to be found with her
is that she is too easy, and, especially, has ever let me torment her,
poor lady, and has returned it with kindness. I will say, though, that
I should not have been so tormenting to her if I had not loved her
and did not know that she has loved me from a child. If she had told
my mother of some of my pranks--well, it would have gone hard with me!
Now I am going to my mother, who has sent for me. Go you with me to the
library, where you will find many books and manuscripts--for I know
that you love books almost as well as adventure."
Don Felipe then took Diego to a library, large for those days. It was
lighted with lamps hung from the ceiling.
"Here," said Don Felipe, handing Diego a small manuscript volume of
verse, "are the works of your Italian poet, Petrarca. I know you know
Italian better than Spanish."
"Yes," replied Diego, seizing the little book. "Just as you know
Spanish better than Italian--because it is your native tongue."
Don Felipe went off, leaving Diego in the dim library. Diego looked
about him in delight. Never had he seen so many books together in his
life.
He began to read the volume of poems and grew so absorbed that he did
not hear Don Felipe open the door, and only knew of his presence when
Don Felipe, slapping him on the shoulder, cried:
"Come out of the clouds, Diego! My mother wishes to speak with you. She
has something to tell us both."
Diego went willingly enough. In a small, high-ceiled room close by was
Doña Christina with Doña Luisita and Señora Julia.