Gold and glory; or, Wild ways of other days, a tale of early American discovery

"My lad," he said, with one of his most winning smiles, "I have left a neighbour behind me in my own town who loves curiosities, and things from past times, not only for their value as articles of merchandise, but for their own sakes, and I would gladly pleasure him with some worthy gift, on my return, after his own heart. Thinkest thou that I could purchase yon great old tome of thee? Missal or Moorish prayers, songs or quaint sayings, I care not, so it be but rare and of a far-gone date."

He put out his hand as he spoke to examine his wished-for bargain; and as Ferdinand Columbus courteously yielded it for inspection he accompanied the civil act with a smiling:

"See for yourself, Señor, if it be old enough to suit an antiquary. Rare it is, certainly; but for the age—it cannot boast as many years as I. It is one of the Bibles printed, by the king's permission, in our own tongue, by Theodoric the German, at his printing presses in Valencia. This copy my father took with him on his first voyage, ten years ago, across the Atlantic, and he would not think of undertaking any great expedition without it."

"And doth he greatly study it, and do you?" inquired Master Sancho, as with mingled awe and wonder he turned the leaves of a book upon which his eyes had never before rested.

But its bearer appeared to think that it was being treated with too much freedom, and rather anxiously held out his hands to receive it back as he murmured in a shocked voice:

"I study it, Señor! The holy saints forbid. That is for the priests. It is taken with us that by its blessed power may be exorcised such spirits of evil, and baneful influences, as we may meet with in those unblessed regions of the West."

So saying, with a formal bow to the merchant, and a sign to Montoro to follow him, the son of the great discoverer of a new world, but not of a more enlightened faith, returned to the small boat that was to carry them on shipboard.

Master Sancho stood on the busy strand watching with many another, until they were drawn up the vessel's side, and then, with a tolerably deep sigh for the loss of his young companion, he wandered away into the streets of the bustling city, and soon became the owner of many curious treasures brought from all parts of the known world, and far safer possessions in that land of the Inquisition than the one he had made an attempt, in ignorance, to buy for his timidly cautious neighbour.

Indeed, with all his own honest courage shown on behalf of the orphaned and beggared young noble, the worthy merchant himself would not have cared to risk travelling with a copy of the Scriptures in his bales, unauthorized.

In those days the Bible was for the priests, as Ferdinand Columbus had said; and the priests took good care not to let the fountain of light out of their hidden keeping. They loved darkness to reign in the land rather than light, because their deeds were evil. But when the boy passed the book for a few minutes into Montoro's charge, as soon as they got on board, that he might the more readily go in search of his father, he was not again giving it into the hands of one so ignorant of its contents, nor to whom it was an affair of so much mystery.

One small, unsuspected portion of her inheritance had Rachel Philip saved from the rapacious grasp of the vile informer, Jerome Tivoli, the Italian. It consisted of three rolls of vellum closely written over in Hebrew characters, and when Don Philip's father became a Christian he did not declare his possession of these rolls; but, on the contrary, closely concealed them, lest he should be deprived of the pearl without price—the Word of God.

In a secresy that the more fully impressed the lessons upon his mind had Don Philip's father taught his son to read these rolls, and to write "in his mind and in his heart" God's law. In like manner had Don Philip, in his turn, taught his daughter; and in like manner had Rachel Diego taught her son to read those three rolls—the Pentateuch, the Psalms of David, and the book of the prophet Isaiah.

Through all her troubles of widowhood, wanderings, and poverty she had kept those books, and she still kept them, for she dared not risk her child's life with their transfer to him. But it mattered not, for their truths were imprinted in his soul, and his faith was a living faith, pure and free from superstition, being built upon the knowledge of God's own Word.

Many of those Jew converts who fell at the mandate of the Spanish Inquisition were the truest Christians, the most upright men, and the best citizens of their age, for they knew what they believed.

From his mother's secret teaching, and his own reading, the young Montoro had become wise unto salvation before the new career began that had been opened up for him by the merchant's benevolence; and when he stepped on board the world-renowned Admiral's ship it may be safely said that the young sweet-voiced, earnest-eyed lad was the mental superior of most of those with whom he was surrounded. He had now a great curiosity to see what might be the contents of the Christian parts of the Bible; and while he awaited his young companion's return, and was pushed with scant ceremony out of the way of the rough sailors, only to be hustled yet more imperiously aside by the penniless but haughty hidalgos who were setting out, as they fondly believed, on a royal road to fortune, he had the opportunity to gratify his desire.

Partly by others' driving, partly by his own good management, he at length got comfortably stowed away into a quiet corner, and there, dropping himself down on to a bale of goods, he carefully unclasped the great book, and turned towards the latter half.

He began to read at once the first words of the first page that opened beneath his eyes, for the disputes he had witnessed during the past few minutes between several of his self-asserting companions made them appear startlingly appropriate.

"And there was also a strife amongst them, which of them should be accounted the greatest."

Many a time did those words recur to his memory during the coming years, but just then, as he sat in his obscure corner in enforced quietude and inactivity, he read on and on with forgetfulness even of his novel position and commencing adventures, in his absorbing interest in a history then read and fully understood for the first time. We know the account of our Lord's agony, base betrayal, and awfully cruel death so well that we have not the faintest idea of how intensely it moved intelligent minds, who first quietly perused it for themselves in its own pathetic simplicity, unspoilt in its solemn appeal by any priestly shows or pageants.

Montoro Diego clenched his fists and his eyes flashed as he read of Peter's denial of his Lord and friend.

"Mean coward!" he muttered. And then his own eyes grew dim as he read how the slandered, insulted Son of man, the denied of his own chosen companion, "turned, and looked upon Peter." He seemed to feel his own being thrilled with the sad reproach, the tender compassion, and the full forgiveness of that look, and a smothered choking sob parted his own lips, as "Peter went out, and wept bitterly."

He read on undisturbed, until he suddenly, as it seemed to him, received an answer to many long-standing, half-formed questions in his mind, with the words:

"And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, He expounded unto them in all the Scriptures, the things concerning Himself."

That was the last of his reading for that day, and for many days to come.

Montoro's eyes were resting on the words—"And beginning at Moses," his lips were repeating a phrase that seemed for him to form the close connecting link between the religion given by God to his forefathers, and the crown of that religion as sealed by Jesus Christ, when energetic young Fernando found him out in his hiding-place. The younger boy pounced upon the volume instantly, with a half-indignant cry.

"Nay then, Diego, if that be thy name, I gave thee this volume of my father's to hold; there was no commission attached that thou shouldst read it, or even so much as venture to unclose the clasps. It is more than I have done, myself."

Montoro rose from his rough couch, and for all apology said with a long-drawn breath:

"I have found wonderful things therein."

Half-an-hour later it would have appeared that all memory of those wonderful things was lost. The anchors of the somewhat shabby little fleet of four vessels were being raised, and with flushed cheeks and eyes blazing with excitement Montoro Diego was making amends for ignorance by the most determined vigour and good-will. Such a little while ago he had been hustled on one side as a useless bit of goods, whose room was worth more than his company; but already his keen-sightedness and ready hands had reversed the judgments of those in his immediate neighbourhood in his favour.

The afternoon was wearing on, when a grave, kind voice addressed him:

"My son, I have been observing you. You have done well."

It was the Admiral himself who spoke, the grand old man who had attained to ever great heights of humility as he attained to greater fame, and who never held himself too high to see the worthy efforts of his humblest follower.

Montoro's handsome face grew brilliant with delight, and as he bent it gratefully in acknowledgment of the commendation, his heart seemed to rise to the possible achievement of deeds of hitherto unheard-of heroism. At that moment he little knew what those deeds would be; deeds not indeed wholly unmatched in the previous history of the world, but yet so rare that, not infidels, but, on the contrary, the most earnest believers in Christianity, are tempted sometimes to believe that their faith must be a fable, and those who proclaim its teachings must do so to tickle their hearers' ears, and as a pastime of the moment.

Having uttered his few words of encouraging praise, Columbus passed on, and Montoro, for whom there was no further employment for the moment, turned to lean over the side of the vessel, and watch the receding shores of his native land, the fast-diminishing lines of the harbour of Cadiz, and its throngs of traders from all nations. His mother was very present with him at that minute, and his mother's parting words:

"You, the unknown and disinherited noble of Aragon, son of a foully-slandered and slain father, are, in the world's eyes, nought. You, the boy Montoro de Diego, may be a hero, the winner of fresh glory for your name, the gainer of the highest honour from your fellow-men. The past is not your fault, the future may be your praise. Keep firm to God and the truth, and fear none."

That last injunction "to fear none" was indeed little needed in the sense in which the boy took it.

"I am not wont to fear," he said, with a touch of impatient pride, adding the next instant, as his eyes rested on his mother's gentle face, and with a mischievous smile, "I rather thought, my mother, that your counsels to me generally were against being overbold."

"That is true," was the reply, with a fleet answering smile. "But that is in matters concerning thyself, my son. Be ever backward in self-assertion, and ever fearless in the cause of justice, truth, and mercy. As thy father was, so I pray that his son may be."

"My father saith that he likes the look of thy face, and wills that we may be friends."

Such was the abrupt announcement of that courtly page and intrepid young adventurer, Fernando Columbus, breaking in upon Montoro's reverie, and joining him at his post by the vessel's side.

A third person stood there also for a minute,—a man with grey hair, and a form shrunken with old age,—and a tear rolled slowly down his furrowed cheek as he gazed for the last time at his country's strand.

Montoro's great eyes widened with questioning wonder at sight of the bowed old man, and when he withdrew he asked his companion, in low tones, what could have possibly induced one so infirm to set out upon such toilsome journeyings.

Ferdinand turned his head to look after the retreating figure, and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I suppose his inducement would be thought by many people a more sensible one than those of the rest of us, although, if we have anything of a rough voyage, I doubt he will be proved to have set out too tardily."

"Still, I hope for my part we shall not always have these smooth waters," impulsively exclaimed the inexperienced young sailor. "I want to see what a storm on the ocean is like. But that by the by. Just now I wish to know what is the inducement of that old hidalgo for leaving his own home, and the comforts he seems to need. Why do you think it is a sensible one?"

"Because," answered the younger boy more gravely, "gold without life is useless, and even glory without it is not much worth. And various of our nobles at the Court have come to the belief that the fountain of youth wastes its precious waters in some hitherto undiscovered region of this New World. The brave knight, Ponce de Leon, hath determined on an expedition to go in search of it; meantime yon wealthy Señor hopes to bribe the Indians to bestow upon him a draught of the precious water before it be too late. And my father though something doubtful of this thing, hath consented that Don Aguilar should have passage with us for the chance. He, himself, would far rather find the Holy Garden of Eden, which he tells me most surely is out yonder."

"At any rate," said one of the knightly adventurers who had now stepped up beside the two lads; "at any rate, Ferdinand, whether thy father finds the Garden or no, I trust that no flaming firebrands of the Indians will hinder him from finding, and traversing, that strait leading from this ocean into the Indian Sea, of which he seems to be so well assured. The finding of that passage will be wealth for all of us."

Unfortunately for the hopes of those days, that expected passage proved to be a land one, and is now called the Isthmus of Darien, which art, not nature, promises soon to convert into the realization of Columbus's belief.

CHAPTER X.

A JACK IN OFFICE.

It was the 29th of June. There was a hush on board the Admiral's ship. Yonder were visible the white low houses of San Domingo on the island of Hispaniola. Around the ship the sea lay still and grey, and the sails hung limp in the hot, heavy air.

A knot of men gathered close around a cabin, listening with lowering brows and compressed lips to bitter groaning, and sobbing cries, that were being wrung from one within, by his wounded soul. Well might the old and way-worn discoverer of mighty continents feel tempted at that moment to cry: "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"

A storm was coming on; one of his four poor, shabby vessels—that on which his beloved brother Bartholomew held command—was in a shattered condition, and he had asked leave to take shelter in the harbour of the small island he had himself given to Spain, and Spaniards had refused him! What wonder that the noble and generous heart of the old Admiral was wrung to its very depths! What wonder that, as Montoro leant with Fernando against the cabin-door, the lad clenched his fists until the nails almost cut his palms, and muttered fiercely to his boy friend:

"Fernando, ask thy father's leave. There is not a man on board will refuse to turn our guns against those miscreants, though they were twenty times our countrymen. Only let him give the word, and he shall be speedily avenged."

"Ay, speedily," echoed two or three hoarse voices in the group, from those who had caught the tenor of Montoro's passionate request, and the Admiral's young son raised his eyes gratefully. His steadfast face was pale with emotion, his lips trembled. Even this weak testimony to his father was some comfort.

"I only wish," he exclaimed, struggling to speak with manly calm; "I only wish that, as you say, the Admiral would give the word that we should let our guns loose against the dastard hounds. We would soon teach them a lesson they should not easily forget."

"Nay then, young Señor, how about yon fleet?" asked one of the sailors significantly, pointing to a number of gay and gallant-looking ships at a short distance within the harbour. "Think you, Señor Ferdinand, that yon fleet would leave us alone if we took to avenging our insults by bombarding the town? And they are close upon twenty to one!"

"What of that?" hastily ejaculated Montoro, his cheeks still crimson with excitement. "God fights on the side of right and just—"

He stopped abruptly. The sounds of grief within the cabin had ceased during this short discussion, and at this instant the door opened, and a hand was laid on Montoro's shoulder, while the well-known slow, distinct voice said with grave earnestness:

"That is true, my son. The great Father fights on the side of right and justice. But He still better loves to espouse the cause of the merciful. Instead of seeking to destroy life let us rather try to save it, that with the measure we mete it may be measured to us again."

"That comes out of the great book I gave thee to hold the day we started," whispered Fernando to his companion, who nodded. It had been a favourite quotation of the benevolent old priest, Bartolo. Meantime Christopher Columbus proceeded to give proof that he spoke not with his lips only but from his heart.

The great fleet in the harbour of San Domingo was that which had brought out his superseder, Ovando, a few weeks since, and it was now in all the bustle of preparation for a speedy return to Spain with crowds of home-going adventurers, many ill-wishers to the just and virtuous discoverer, numbers of prisoners Spanish and native, and an immense amount of gold, pearls, and other treasures, well-nigh every ounce of which had cost a life.

On board this fleet were the Admiral's most bitter enemies; on board its grandest vessel was the narrow-minded, mean-spirited upstart, Bobadilla, who, to the ever-enduring disgrace of his own name and of his country, had dared to send the great seaman, the great thinker, the man of unbounded hopes, enthusiasm, courage, endurance, and magnanimity—the man who to Bobadilla was as a lion to a rat—had dared to send this giant hero home in chains like a vile malefactor but two years before, and had covetously grasped at his possessions, impudently installing himself in the house of his patient victim, and laying greedy hands upon his arms, gold, plate, jewels, horses, books, and even his letters and precious manuscripts.

Against that fleet, with all its proud sumptuousness contrasted with the miserable little squadron granted to Columbus, and against his base enemies on board, the company on board his own ship considered that he had a full right to feel the most vengeful wrath. It was not Montoro only who could scarcely believe his ears when, after the pause of a few moments following his sacred quotation—moments devoted to further keen, close scrutiny of those weather signs in which he was so deeply skilled—the Admiral summoned forward the crew of the boat that had just returned, and despatched them with a second message to the new governor Ovando, to entreat him to save the fleet from the certainly approaching storm, by a few days' delay of their departure.

"Better to leave them to meet their fate as they leave us," muttered Montoro, with the yet unconquered passion of his nature. But once again that firm touch came upon his shoulder. The Admiral's quick ears had caught the growl, low as it was.

"My son," he said quietly, "you shall go with my messengers. That will be a fitting rebuke for you, will it not," he added with a grave smile, "for uttering opinions contrary to those of your commander, and contrary to those of the Divine Ruler of the universe?"

Obeying a sudden impulse of veneration, Diego snatched the aged hand in his own, and pressed it to his lips. "I can never attain to your generosity, Señor," he murmured, "nor be thus forgiving to those wrongfully my enemies."

Just as the boat was starting, Ferdinand Columbus bent over the ship's side, and called mischievously:

"Diego, there, hark ye!"

"Ay, what is it then?" asked Montoro, as he lifted his head, resting on his oar the while. "What news hast thou since I left thee and the caravel?"

"Great news," was the mischievous answer. "My father gives me leave to tell thee that, since thou art doubtless feared by reason of the coming storm, he will obtain permission at least for such a whipper-snap as thou to abide on shore."

That quick, unmanageable spirit of Montoro's was set all ablaze for a moment at the supposed imputation of cowardice; and he was about to shout back an answer little in accordance with his late act of reverence, but Diego Mendez, the officer in command of the little embassy, hastily clapped his hand over the lad's mouth, as he said with a short laugh:

"Nay now, art thou not a very fool to be so taken in? Dost thou not see by thy tormentor's face that the brain of no Columbus but himself made up that message for thee?"

The friendly intervention was timely. When Fernando called down again—"Say then, dost accept the offer?"—his companion's face was brimming over with merriment like his own, as the retort was shouted up:

"Ha, Fernando, my good Señor, thou art but a sorry messenger. My absent ears have caught the purport of thy father's words better than thy present ones. The Admiral's message to me is, that since thou art feared, I must obtain a leave to land for thee. I bid thee, then, calm thy quaking heart, since I will not fail. Adios."

"And a slap o' the ear for thee when thou returnest," was the answering shout; and then the boat cast off, and was rowed with vigorous strokes to that once fertile, but already so dismal and desolated island of Hispaniola, the head-quarters of cruelty, lawlessness, suffering, and rapacity.

Montoro was very quickly to have a specimen of the deeds that had brought the island to its present wretched condition.

As the boat approached the strand, crowds of idlers gathered about, some to give the new-comers welcome, more to express their contemptuous dislike of the Admiral by covert sneers or openly-expressed scorn bestowed upon his followers.

There, flaunting in silks and brocades, which not even the proudest hidalgos dared any longer wear in Spain, stood half-a-dozen men, who had been loosed from richly-deserved felons' dungeons at home, to serve as colonists for the New World. Near them, reclining in a sumptuous litter, borne upon the bleeding shoulders of four of the meek-spirited and unhappy natives, was an ignorant, cunning rascal, whom Montoro had himself seen carried off to prison for theft in El Cuevo. Now he lay there in all the insolent dignity of riches, with a palm-leaf umbrella borne over his head by one slave, whilst another sickly-looking creature fanned him.

Closer to the edge of the soft-lapping waters was a real Spanish Don, whose poverty-stricken estate had driven him to hide his thread-bare pride in exile. To indemnify himself for leaving his beloved Castile, he spent his whole time and thoughts on the island in squeezing wealth, almost, as it seemed, even out of its very stones. His slaves died off day by day, very nearly as soon as they were allotted to him; but that was nought to their owner, so long as with the remnants of their dying strength they reaped his harvests, and brought up gold for him from the mines. They were to him as machines for making riches; and when one of the machines wore out, it must be tossed aside to make room for another.

But with all Don Alfonzo's heartless barbarities to his miserable victims, he had a warm corner in his callous heart for his own countrymen, whoever they might be. All Spaniards were friends to Don Alfonzo, while the ocean lay between him and his home. He watched the progress of the incoming boat with eyes almost as eager as those with which, week by week, he counted his golden gains; and when, from the shallowness of the water, the rowers had to stop some way short of dry ground, he looked round hastily for some one whom he could order off for their assistance. None of his own people were in sight, but a weak, wan-faced Indian lay beside him, and him the nobleman immediately commanded to rise, and go into the water to help drag up the boat.

With a moan the poor creature began to obey, but too slowly to suit the despotic impatience of the Spaniard.

"Hurry thy lazy carcase, then, thou black-skinned dog," he exclaimed imperiously; and to enforce his words he raised a bamboo cane he held, and brought it down with a fierce swish through the air, which told its own tale of what its effect should be if it came in contact with the native's tender flesh. As the cane rose the Indian crouched with a low, pitiful cry, which was echoed with an added note of indignation by Montoro from the boat.

The next moment Montoro sprang to his feet with a second cry of impulsive admiration. The stinging slash of that bamboo cane had come down upon the arm of a young Spaniard, who had stretched it out as a cover for the helpless Indian; and then, when the arm had performed its allotted task, it was quietly withdrawn, terribly cut as it must have been, and folded over its owner's chest, who as quietly turned and confronted Don Alfonzo.

"It is the command of our Sovereign, Queen Isabella," he said firmly, "that the Indians be treated with humanity, and according to law."

"Who is that?" asked Montoro, as he sprang on to the sandy shore, and pointed out the young man who had made his arm serve so readily for another man's shield.

Shyness was never one of Montoro Diego's failings; and now curiosity and a generous admiration made him put his question eagerly to the first person he came up to. All he got at first was a return question to match his own, a good-humoured:

"And pray, then, who are you? If you're come to work you are welcome; if you have come to make others work, you may as well be off again, for there are more than enough of that sort here already."

"I am going off again," replied Diego laughing. "I have not come to stay; not just yet, at least. But do tell me who that young Señor is."

"Well, he's a crack-brained young Señor, to begin with," was the reply, with a shrug of the shoulders. "His name is Bartholomew Las Casas, and he's only been out here a few weeks. He came out with Ovando. His father came out here before, with the Admiral himself."

Montoro grew still more interested.

"But why do you call him crack-brained?"

"Because he is crack-brained. Crazy as he can be about what he calls the wrongs of the black rascals out here. His father took one over for him to have as his own in Spain, five or six years ago, and comfortable enough the fellow was with such a soft-hearted master. Then comes the royal order that there are to be no more of these Indian slaves in Spain; that they are not cruelly to be kept from their own country, and they are forthwith all packed back again, to be grabbed at as fast as they arrive, and worked to quick deaths in the mines. Meantime, our young Señor Las Casas has been taught to think a whole host of nonsense about their miseries, and his duties of relieving them. If he uses his arms as their covers in his fashion just now he'll pretty soon need some one to relieve him.”

"Ay, verily," murmured Montoro musingly as he turned away from his informant and rejoined his companions. The history of his own family's wrongs had made him more keenly alive to the wrongs of others. He had a generous feeling of envy that it had been the arm of the young Las Casas, and not his own, that had taken the blow for the Indian. But, as the great American poet says,

Before half-an-hour had passed Montoro's will had veered round once more—from a desire to relieve injuries to a desire to inflict them. For humanity's sake Columbus had sent urgent warnings and entreaties that the departure of the fleet might be delayed a few days, to avoid the coming storm. And for his charity he received contempt. The Governor and his counsellors looked at the quiet sky, the calm sea, they felt the soft breeze on their cheeks, and the contemptuous answer was sent back:

"In this year of grace dreamers of dreams are out of fashion."

"When I see the Admiral's letters patent as the authorized reader of the heavens, and the interpreter of its signs," said the Governor haughtily, "doubtless he will find me an obedient pupil. Meantime I prefer instruction when I ask for it."

"He and all the rest of them deserve to be drowned if they are not," said Diego Mendez indignantly, as he returned with his party to the boat, and put back to the ship.

Montoro's thoughts flew back to the cannon on board. He felt just then as if nothing on earth would so well satisfy him as to see them pointed at the Governor's house, to see their flash, to hear their roar, and to witness the wholesale destruction they could cause.

"Why was there no young Las Casas to avenge this insult to the Admiral?"

But there was One mightier than Las Casas to do that, One whose artillery was mightier than the cannon in which Montoro put such confidence. Two days passed, and then the tropical storm burst in all its fury. To such poor, unforbidden shelter as he could find the Admiral had guided his battered little squadron, and there he and his followers waited, and watched the gathering gloom of earth and sea and air and sky; and well it might seem to some of those watchers that a spirit of retributive wrath was brooding over the scene of cruelty, treachery, and insolence.

"It will require all their seamanship to ride out the coming hurricane," said the pilot, Antonio de Alaminos, on the second day, as he regarded somewhat dubiously their own quarters.

And Diego Mendez answered moodily:

"I should heave no sigh if they and their ill-gotten wealth went to the bottom of the deep before mine eyes; but I do grieve to have heard that on the craziest of their barques they are carrying home the Admiral's gold, the poor remnant of his rents they have permitted him."

"Never have care for that, Señor," said the young Fernando earnestly. "It is my father's, and it will be kept safe for him."

"It is as well that thou canst console thyself with that belief, any way," muttered the man, as the boy went off to where Columbus was already issuing orders, needed by the sudden wild gusts of wind that came as forerunners of the tempest.

Then came the wild roar and whirl, and darkness made more awful by the fiery flashes that momentarily illumined the terrors of the scene. On land trees uprooted, houses flung into ruins as though made by children's hands of cards, the fields of maize changed as in an instant from fields of gold to grey, scorched deserts. Living beings struck at a breath into corpses; others crushed in the downfall of their homes. And at sea those four poor cranky vessels, which were all a great country could afford its great benefactor, tossing and toiling in the boiling sea.

Now the waters would seethe as though some hideous cauldron, prepared by evil spirits for some demon feast, and the doomed vessels shook through every plank and spar as though with living horror. And then, with a sudden shock the waters would rush together, and mount wildly into mountain waves crowned with crests of foam.

The ships lost sight of each other. Sailors and adventurers all gave themselves up for death. In a delirium of fear they confessed their sins to whoever would heed the dismal catalogue. Ave Marias, invocations of the saints, and such fragments of Scripture as they knew, were groaned forth on all sides, rather as invocations than prayers, as the days went by, and still the furious battle of nature raged.

The fellow to that storm not even the veteran navigator of all seas had experienced before. At times during the blackness of the night it would seem to the affrighted mariners as though hell itself had opened its jaws to swallow them. Making a pathway for themselves through the darkness, the raging billows would suddenly rush onwards brilliant with light, and surround the ship and its awe-struck occupants with a sea of flame. For a day and night the heavens glowed as a furnace; and the reverberating peals of thunder sounded to the distracted sailors as the last despairing cries from the other ships of their sinking comrades. What was becoming of the wretched, foolhardy creatures on board Ovando's proud fleet they had no longer care to think. Drenched with the ceaseless sheet of rain, which poured down day and night throughout that long week of storm continually, exhausted with toil, worn with fears, Columbus and his company were to be still further tried by the majestic terrors of those southern seas.

Wildly tossed as was the whole ocean, it suddenly became observed, with deepening dread, that in one spot the agitation was still redoubled. Even as they looked the waters reared themselves higher and yet higher, grim and terrible as a giant pillar of molten lead; while a livid cloud bent down from the heavens to meet it. Thus joining, and ever gathering fresh size and force as it sucked up the waves in its headlong course, the dreadful column rushed on towards the ships.

The Admiral came forth from his cabin with the iron-clasped Bible open in his hands, to exorcise the evil spirit abroad for their destruction. Men hardened in callousness fell on their knees in silent prayer. Antonio de Alaminos stood gazing with fixed eyes at the invincible enemy. His skill and knowledge were powerless in the presence of that foe. As he stood there waiting for the end he was startled by a voice beside him so clear, so calm, that it was distinct even in the midst of that wild tumult.

"Alaminos, thinkest thou that we shall live through the storm?"

Starting, the pilot turned his gaze for a moment from the advancing column, and exclaimed:

"Montoro! boy, hast thou no fears?"

"None," was the low, soft answer of his lips. "None," was the answer of his rapt, earnest eyes, full of a beautiful awe and reverence. "He holds the storm in His hand, and us."

Even as the boy spoke the vessel swerved, the waterspout passed on beside it, and they were safe.

"The Admiral's Bible has saved us," exclaimed the mariners, as wild with joy as they had been with fear.

Alaminos, the pilot, looked at Montoro de Diego, and said nothing. For the first time in his life the thought had stolen into his mind whether the faith to be learnt from the teaching of the Bible might not be a more precious thing than even its print and paper.

The force of the long-protracted tempest was at length spent; the sea subsided, and Columbus's scattered caravals, none of them lost, gathered together again to offer thanks to God for their preservation, and to seek the shelter and refreshment no longer denied them, in the ports of Hispaniola.

The storm had passed, but it had left behind it sorrow and shame and gloom on the countenances of Ovando the Governor, and those about him. The gay, grand fleet, despatched against the Admiral's advice, was lost, with all those many hundreds of souls on board, and all that wealth. The Admiral's enemies had perished; Bobadilla, the mutinous Roldan, and many another. Those gallant ships were gone. Only that poor, mean, weak little barque, inferior to all its consorts, that had been thought good enough to carry the Admiral's grudged revenue, that lived through the storm, and took its little treasure safe into the Spanish port.

"It is my father's; I told you that God would guard it," said Fernando Colon, some months later, when the strange, good news of that survivor reached his ears.

CHAPTER XI.

THE FIRST FIND.

Great storms are very terrible, and weeks of drenching rains, Montoro de Diego, and his friend Ferdinand Columbus, had time to discover, were most disagreeable accompaniments to travels whether by water or land. As for poor Don Aguilar, the hardships of the way killed him, as Fernando Colon had foreseen, before he had a chance to purchase a draught from that dreamt-of fountain of youth. And long-continued dismal weather very nearly also killed the courage at least of most of the old hidalgo's companions.

After that first great storm, a few days were passed at Port Hermosa, to refresh the crews, and repair the caravels, and then Columbus started forth again to find the wished-for, but non-existent, strait through the Isthmus of Darien. Having spent about five months in this fruitless search he gave it up, greatly to the delight of the whole of his companions. They were much more anxious after what they considered the infinitely superior quest for the gold mines of Veragua, distant about thirty leagues from Porto Bello.

What with cross currents, however, contrary winds, and bad weather, those thirty leagues took nearly a month in the traversing, and it was not until the day of the Epiphany, 1503, that the Admiral reached the mouth of a river, to which he gave the name of Belen, or Bethlehem. In the immediate neighbourhood of this river was the country said to be so rich in the precious mineral that Columbus felt convinced that, as further discoveries would find the Garden of Paradise in the new-found world, so also he was on the borders of that land of Ophir whence king Solomon had drawn his stores of the valued treasure. Meanwhile, every one but himself, and his son Ferdinand, was very eager to get similar treasure for his own purse, and so soundings somewhat less cautious than usual were taken, the four caravels crossed the bar at the mouth of the river Belen, now swollen by past months of rain, sailed some little distance up it, and there cast anchor for a season of exploration.

Montoro was as wild with eager excitement and delight as any one, when he obtained leave to go with the first boats sent on shore.

"Do you then, too, care so much for gold?" asked his friend Fernando, in a disappointed tone, as he saw his companion's glowing face. "I had not thought it of thee."

"Nor need now," was the quick answer. "I go not to hunt for gold, but glory. My father's wealth they robbed him of. The glory he won on the walls of Alhama will cling as long as time shall last to the name of Don Montoro de Diego. Such glory, and not gold, would I win also."

"Nobly spoken, my lad of the quick temper," said Señor Diego Mendez, in smiling allusion to the time when he had hindered hasty words by putting his hand over the boy's mouth. Since that day Diego Mendez had many times taken note of his young companion. Neither Montoro's ability, courage, wit, nor readiness were lost upon him, and the occasion was soon to come now when he was to show his appreciation of them.

As the boats' crews stepped on shore, one or two of the eager seekers after fortune gathered up handfuls of the glistening sand, eyeing it sharply, as they did so, in such a way that Diego Mendez exclaimed with a laugh:

"Why now, comrades, would it not be well, think you, just to set to work, and shovel the shore pell-mell into the boats, and carry it off at once to Spain? Of course you'd be rich then, no doubt, without further trouble."

"Well, we've had enough of that, at any rate, already, to deserve some pay," grumbled one, while a couple of others sulkily enough dropped their glittering burden to avoid further ridicule.

"How pretty it is though," exclaimed Montoro, who stood watching the wet grains as they fell shining in the sunlight. "And here is some more up here!" he cried in astonishment half-an-hour later, suddenly stopping short from his companions, in their progress through the forest, and dropping on his knees beneath a tree.

"Some more what?" asked half-a-dozen voices at once, as their owners crowded round in amazed watching of their young comrade, who was most busily grubbing away at the tree's roots.

"Ay, indeed, some more what?" repeated the Adelantado, in equal surprise. "What is it that you have found?"

"Why some more of that shining sand," was the ready reply. "And of course it is nothing worth really, only that it is somewhat strange, methinks, to find it up here so far from the sea wet and shining."

"Strange! ay, strange indeed," echoed Diego Mendez, now quickly pressing through to his namesake's side. "Passing strange, my lad, if it be indeed, as you say, shining because, this dry, hot day, it lies there wet. But—is it so?"

Just as that question was put Montoro raised his stooping face with almost a startled glance at the questioner. He had told Fernando, and told him truly, that it was glory, not gold, that he desired. Still treasure meant power to return to his mother, power to give her comfort, power perhaps to win back his ancestral home. And he knew now that his hand was full, not of grains of sand, shining because they were wet; but of grains of gold, shining with their own lustre.

"No," he breathed, for a moment awed by his discovery. "No, my Señor, this is no sand heavy with the spray of sea waves. This is the treasure you are seeking."

Montoro's find put a stop to all further explorations for that day, excepting explorations about those roots. The entire party fell into a state that might, far more literally than usual, be termed one of 'money-grubbing' excitement. More diligently than the greediest pigs ever grubbed for a feast round about oak trees or beeches, or Spanish pigs grub for truffles, did those Spanish gentlemen grub with fingers and nails round about the trees of that wild American forest.

Montoro put a crown to the triumphs of his keen-sighted eyes by finding quite a fair-sized little lump of gold at the edge of a streamlet, which he put by carefully for Fernando; and then he employed himself in gathering a supply of the abundant fruits to carry back to the ship for the general benefit.

"Nay then," said Antonio de Alaminos, gratefully accepting a bunch of bananas, "but these are worth all the gold that was ever found or fought over, my lad. Our God gives us these as loving gifts. I sometimes think that He has given us gold as He gave the forbidden fruit—to try us."

Montoro raised his eyes for an instant and then lowered them again, as he murmured:

"Often hath my mother said that there are many things more worth."

"Truly are there," was the assent. "But hark!" he added in a louder tone and more quickly, "here is the Admiral. He is calling for us."

The summons was an important one. So satisfactory were the accounts brought back of the country, not only as regarded the promise of gold, but as to its general appearance of fertility and beauty, that the Admiral forthwith resolved upon the establishment of a colony.

"You think not," he demanded as Montoro and the pilot drew near; "you think not, Mendez, that it is the finding of this glittering dust only, that hath dazzled your eyes with respect to the virtues of the land?"

Mendez was about to reply with due gravity when his friend, Rodrigo de Escobar, broke in boldly, exclaiming:

"Nay then, as the Jewish spies said of old so can we say now, that it is a goodly land and a pleasant; and if it overfloweth not with milk and honey, neither is it inhabited with a people akin to the Anakim; and it has at least the grapes of Eshcol, and many a pleasant thing besides."

The Admiral smiled gravely.

"All which meaneth, I take it, Señor Rodrigo, that whosoever else believeth thy report, thou believest it thyself."

De Escobar bowed, while one beside Montoro muttered with a low laugh:

"Most assuredly friend Rodrigo would believe everything favourable of a land that flowed with that best of all sweet golden honey, the real gold itself, even though all else were desert."

"And small blame to him," retorted Tristan, captain of one of the other caravels, who had just come on board to hear the news. "Señor de Escobar is much of my own way of thinking—that life united with poverty is but a poor sort of an affair, not worth the trouble of the guardianship."

This being the general opinion, and a very slight amount of questioning eliciting the universal adhesion to Rodrigo's proposition, that a land where gold was to be gathered, even about the roots of the trees, was a good land to stay in, it was not difficult to obtain volunteers for the new colony.

Besides, even for those who were not so madly eager for gold Veragua had many attractions, seeing that the land abounded in rich fruits, the water in fish, the soil was fertile, and the Cacique and his people friendly.

"And what more can you want?" said Amerigo Vespucci decisively.

"What more can any men want?" said another, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Especially men like us, who have had for these weeks past to munch our biscuit in the dark, lest our stomachs should turn at seeing how many and how fat were the other eaters we were obliged also to devour."

"Bah!" ejaculated De Escobar, as he flung over a morsel of the said biscuit at the same time into the water. "It is too abominable of thee, Tristan, thus to remind a hungry wretch of the foul nature of his food. For thy barbarity thou shalt owe me thy first—"

"Nay, Señor," interposed Montoro Diego out of the dusk; "here is somewhat to make amends for thy lost supper. These great nuts have hard outsides; but within they are better than our little ones of Spain."

CHAPTER XII.

SURGEON TO THE REDSKINS.

Colonists for the proposed new settlement having proved so easily forthcoming, the next step in the business was to provide them habitations, and shelter of some sort for the needful stores. Accordingly the next morning, almost as soon as it was light, a number of men were sent on shore, as builders of the first European town to be founded on the mainland of America. Bartholomew Columbus went with them to choose a site for the place of which he was to be the Governor; and amongst the number of his companions were Diego Mendez, Diego's special comrade Rodrigo de Escobar, and of course Montoro.

"I cannot get on at all without my sharp-eyed namesake," said the notary good-naturedly, when he pleaded with the Admiral for Montoro's company. And thus, some little it must be confessed to Ferdinand's vexation, Montoro was once more of the land-going party, proving of as much service on this occasion as on the last, although the results were not so immediately apparent.

Cutting timber, clearing ground of a troublesomely-luxuriant vegetation, and driving stakes, had progressed for some time merrily enough, to the evident wonder and interest of an ever-increasing crowd of natives, men, women, and children, when Diego Mendez, looking about him for a help in a hard piece of work, discovered Montoro some couple of hundred yards or so distant from the building-ground, and apparently engaged in a very private and earnest conversation with a couple of native women, and three or four children.

"What, in the name of St. Jago, is the lad after now?" he exclaimed rather irritably, for he had got his fingers pinched in a split bamboo he had wanted his protégé to help him in sundering, and small annoyances were more trying to these brave Spaniards than great disasters. "Montoro," he shouted, "Montoro, you come here, can't you!"

Montoro was back like an arrow.

"Ay, Señor Mendez; what would you with me?"

"What would I?" was the hasty answer. "Why everything; all manner of things. But thou'rt such a fellow! Thou'rt never at hand when needed. At least,"—still growling, but with a grim dawning accent of compunction for injustice,—"at least not always. Here thou'st left me to well-nigh lose the half of my hand, while thou'st been trying to wheedle gold mine secrets out of those poor fools yonder, with that soft tongue of thine."

"No such thing," exclaimed Rodrigo de Escobar with his usual volubility, before Montoro could answer for himself. "You are mistaken, Mendez. Had the lad been using a soft tongue so usefully his absence might be the more readily forgiven him. But it is a stupid soft heart that deserves the blame this time. Because gold-seeker, discoverer, navigator, builder, and half-a-dozen other things are not trades enough for the young jackanapes to take to at once, he must needs be taking a turn now at surgery."

"Nay then, Rodrigo," said his friend incredulously, and looking alternately from the laughing accuser to the half-troubled accused. The face of neither tended in any way to relieve the notary's curiosity. "Speak out, man," he said at last. "With what is it that you charge the lad?"

"With what I say," replied de Escobar with another laugh. "With playing the surgeon unauthorized, Children and monkeys are all alike—they must needs imitate what they see others doing; and consequently, one of those monkey-children yonder got hold of my hammer awhile since, and of course contrived to hammer its own fingers pretty sharply."

"Terribly!" broke in Montoro impulsively, forgetting his temporary shyness in the recollection of his pity. "The poor little creature, my señor, has hammered his fingers perfectly black, and the poor ignorant mother could only cry over it, and do nothing; and so—and so—"

And so, and so Montoro Diego once more grew shy as his own part in the business drew to the fore, and came to a stammering conclusion, and Diego Mendez with a smile took up the tale.

"And so, and so then, my friend, I suppose you do really confess that Don Rodrigo de Escobar has laid only true things to your charge, and that you have thought, by adding your ignorance to the woman's ignorance, to make one wisdom. Hey, my modest young friend, then is it so?"

Montoro looked up now, with flushed cheeks it is true, but with some returning boldness also, as he replied sturdily—

"My ignorance, at any rate, my señor, has had this good result—that the child no longer cries. But if you would spare me yet another five minutes, I would fain return to him, just to make my bandages more secure than I left them in my haste upon your call."

"Come then, have your way," said his new patron good-humouredly. "I confess I am not a little curious to see what sort of surgery you have evolved from that daring head of yours, and whether it be not a gag in the squaller's mouth that has produced this peacefulness."

But there was no gag in the small redskin's smiling mouth, neither, assuredly, was there one in the mouth of the small redskin's mother, who poured forth a perfect torrent of incomprehensible words as she alternately kissed Montoro's feet and her child's injured hand, or rather the great bundle of wet leaf-poultice in which it was most scientifically enveloped.

"Umph!" muttered Diego Mendez, as he looked at the bound-up limb and the grateful mother. "And pray how hast thou come by thy skill, my friend? Is St. Luke thy patron saint, and has he instructed thee?"

"My mother has been my teacher," was the quiet answer. "And she had much learning of many various uses to mankind, from her father."

The notary cast a keen glance of sudden intelligence at his companion, and then said slowly—

"Ah, now thou hast let me into a secret as to thy birth that I had partly guessed at before. Now I know from what race thou hast drawn much of thine intelligence, and the bookishness that hath ofttimes surprised me. But hark ye, lad, for I have a kindness for thee. Tell to none others of our companions what thou hast thus told to me; for remember, Spain has decreed just now that she will have no dealings, save those of the fire and the rack, with the great race that is too wise for bigotry to let it live. And the favour thou art sure to win, and the good fortune, will make men but too ready to use ill tales against thee. But now—leave thy patient, and let us back to our building again, for the day wears fast."

So saying, he turned his steps back towards the rising settlement; and when Montoro had managed with some difficulty to disengage himself from the thankful woman, he followed his patron, the native child clinging to him with his sound hand, and contriving to make his short legs keep up with his companion's long ones.

A general laugh greeted the truant when he returned thus accompanied; but Montoro tossed up his handsome young head very independently as he shouted—

"Laugh as you may please, my señors; but when you desire a guide and an interpreter, do not then think to borrow mine."

"Ah! ha!" exclaimed Diego Mendez, not at all displeased at his protégé's readiness. "My friends, methinks the lad hath had the best of it; and we were wise not to provoke him to register a vow to keep his useful new acquaintances to himself."

"If he did," muttered Rodrigo, "there would but need to draw a long and doleful face to make him break it. For no oath's sake would he ever be got to cut off a John Baptist's head."

"I'll cut off thine, though," grumbled Juan de Alba, "if thou keepest not those bamboo points to thyself, instead of using them to pierce mine eyes. Thou art a clumsy carpenter, in very deed, as ever I saw."

"And I rejoice that thou shouldst have to say so," retorted the other. "The fingers of Rodrigo de Escobar scorn this servile work."

"Do they also scorn to peel bananas?" asked the Adelantado, coming up with a great ripe bunch at an opportune moment to stop a squabble from growing into a quarrel. He had enough to do to keep the peace among his gang of noble workmen.

CHAPTER XIII.

FOR LIFE OR DEATH.

For some few days the work of building progressed merrily enough. The seemingly ubiquitous Montoro Diego, with his beautiful voice, his bright eyes, and his untiring activity, inspired the whole party with a portion of his own spirit; and his grateful native friend, the mother of his small patient, proved of the greatest comfort to the new colonists by keeping them plentifully supplied with fruit, fish, birds, and food cooked after the native fashion, but very acceptable to men who had lived hardly too long to be fastidious. Besides, they were very desirous of sparing as much as possible their own small remaining stores of biscuit, cheese, wine, oil, and vinegar, of which the Admiral could only leave so small a quantity for the civilized provision of the colony.

At the outset of the new undertaking, others besides the mother of the child had shown most hospitable alacrity in bringing gifts for the white strangers' larder; but by degrees these gifts ceased, and at last, whilst all the others of the Spaniards still looked gay enough, Montoro's face began to grow very grave. He still had many good things brought to him, but he noticed that they began to be brought with an air of secresy, and at last the poor creature proved her gratitude by giving him signs as plainly as she dared, that Quibian, the Cacique of Veragua, was not altogether so friendly as he seemed.

"It was not his own gold mines, but those of a dreaded neighbour chief, that he had pointed out to the Spaniards on their first arrival," she declared; "and now he was noting with jealous eyes, and an angry heart, the preparations of the white strangers for taking up their abode on his territories."

Poor Cacique! Had he known the dismal fate that was so speedily to overwhelm him and all he cherished, his jealousy and wrath must have burnt with a fierceness to consume his heart. But for the moment the Spaniards were but a handful of men in an unknown and populous country; moreover, the water in the river had fallen, dry weather had set in, and threatened to continue, the bar at the river's mouth was visible at low tide, and the ships were shut in beyond the possibility of present escape. It behoved the Admiral and his band of followers to be careful, and each individual felt it incumbent on him personally to watch for the safety of all; even to sleep, as the saying is, like a dog with one eye open.

Under these circumstances it is little wonder that Mendez noticed with some uneasiness the unusual gravity of Montoro's face one morning, after a short interview with his Indian patient, and the child's mother.

"Hey, then, master Long-face" he exclaimed, with half-affected gaiety, "say, what treason is it thou hast been concocting with thy dark friend yonder? Hath she been offering thee the kingdom of the Cacique Quibian, if thou wilt engage to share the throne with her?"

Montoro threw back his head for an instant haughtily. Boy as he was, he did not like such jests. But he too much admired Diego Mendez for his anger against him to be long-lived. Besides, he had a weight upon his mind of which he desired to unburden himself. After the momentary pause, he said hastily—

"The woman's communication, Señor Mendez, had no reference to me further than as I am one of us. But if I at all rightly comprehend her signs, this Quibian, the Cacique of Veragua, under his smoothness to us has designs of the deepest treachery. Even now I believe that we are being surrounded on all sides by his warriors."

Señor Mendez stroked his chin thoughtfully. To say truth, he was deeply startled by the suspicion thus presented to him; but he was a Spaniard, and therefore chary of displays of any other emotion than that of pride. Moreover, he was a notary by profession, and had thus learnt caution: to hear all he could, to see all he could, to think much, and to say little.

His meditations were undisturbed by Montoro. At last he took the boy by the arm, leading him farther away from their companions before he said quietly—

"You have done well, my namesake, in bringing your tale to me. Let it rest there for the present, and see that you show the woman no great belief of her news, and no shadow even of a fear."

"But—" began Montoro eagerly, and then he stopped as suddenly as he had begun.

His companion looked at him doubtfully.

"Well, Diego, 'but' what? Wouldst say thy fears are too strong to be dissembled?"

"Even so," was the startling answer, with flushed cheeks, but with such a bold, brave look in the uplifted eyes that the unexpected reply was still more bewildering.

"Nay, then; thou art audacious enough in confessing cowardice," ejaculated the notary, with eyes so widening with wonder that they seemed to monopolize his face.

Just a flash of a smile shot across Montoro's face at having for once thus overbalanced the self-possession of the shrewd man of business. But he replied almost in the same moment—

"In truth, Señor, I can afford to be bold in confessing to these fears, seeing that they are not for myself, but for others, and for the honour of our expedition. Verily I think that it would break our great Admiral's heart, should terrible mischance happen to us who are with him now in his neglected, sorely-tried old age. And that must not be."

"And how then do you purpose to prevent it?" asked Mendez, once more the cool, self-contained notary. "Do you propose to call out the Cacique to prove his honourable intentions by single combat, after our own Spain's knightly fashion?"

"Would that it were possible!" was the reply with kindling eyes. "But no, Señor, my meaning is more simple. I have told you my fears. But if you mean to treat them as idle fancies, or to stand by to see what comes of them, I shall forthwith carry them to the Admiral himself."

"Umph!" said Diego Mendez deliberately, "you would so, would you? And you would do well. But hark ye, youngster—I neither intend to treat you nor your tale as nought, so with that assurance rest thee satisfied a while. I too have noted somewhat of late, upon which your news throws fresh light. But be wary. Tell no one what you have told to me, and show no sign of trouble."

Convinced at last that his warning was received as seriously as he desired, Montoro returned to his task amongst the amateur house-builders, and displayed considerable ingenuity as a constructor of neat roofs out of palm leaves. His alacrity at his work was the more cheerful when, from his position on the hill above the mouth of the river, he saw the accountant for the new settlement put off in one of the boats to return to the Admiral's ship. This happened within half-an-hour of their conversation on the native woman's intelligence, and increased Montoro's good opinion of his own wisdom in choosing Señor Mendez as the recipient of his confidence. Cautious as he was, he could evidently act quickly enough in an emergency. In a short time he was rowing rapidly back to the building-ground, bringing half-a-dozen fully-armed men with him, and making signs to Montoro to meet him on the shore.

Down went tools and palm leaves, down from the roof with a bound sprang the tiler, and a minute later a second flying leap had carried him into the boat beside Diego Mendez. A few rapid words were exchanged between the two, and then the notary said gravely—

"Well, I have made you the offer of coming with me by the Admiral's consent; but remember, our undertaking is one of life and death."

"I understand," was the quiet answer. "But if we die, our deaths will be a sign to all these others to prepare for defence; if we live we shall at any rate have discovered the nature of our danger. I go with you gladly."

And of that latter fact his earnest, animated countenance gave abundant evidence as they proceeded on their perilous enterprise. Passing from the river Belen, they rowed along the sea-coast until they reached the Veragua, at which point the real peril of their enterprise began, and the first proof was obtained of the woman's veracity.

There upon the shore, within a few yards of them, was a great encampment of the Indians, the warriors of their tribe, and fully armed. The number of the Spaniards was eight, the number of the Indians more than as many hundreds. For one moment the Europeans rested on their oars in silence. It was no preconcerted act, but one of involuntary homage paid by all things living, however daring, when brought face to face with imminent death.

The half-whimsical, unbidden thought darted through Montoro's brain that his mother had declared she should never see him again on earth, and so she could not reasonably feel hurt if her words came true. What unconnected thoughts flashed for that same supreme instant through the mind of Diego Mendez none can say. It had scarcely passed when he sprang into the shallow water, walked on shore, and with an air of the most dignified composure advanced alone into the very midst of the great fierce gathering.

Utterly overawed by the white man's astounding temerity, the Indians fell back, with wonder and irresolution depicted on their countenances. They answered questions with trepidation.

"Yes; they were on the war-path. Their Cacique had enemies in the neighbourhood."

"Ah!" replied Diego Mendez with cool courtesy, "then our coming is well-timed. In return for your Cacique's attentions to us we will now aid his arms against his foes. We will accompany you on your expedition."

"Not so," was the Indian chiefs angry reply. "We are strong enough to fight our own battles; we seek no help. Only leave us: that is all we desire."

By manifold signs his followers equally betrayed their impatience to be rid of the new-comers, and strenuously declined to have anything to do with the boat, or its crew. Seating himself in the small barque with his face toward the Indian camp, and closely wrapped in his cloak, Diego Mendez calmly sat, hour after hour, and watched the dusky warriors.

The day waned; the short twilight drew on. One of the occupants of the boat began to feel his courage cooling under this tedious inaction, and he ventured to mutter somewhat anxiously—

"The night is coming, Señor Mendez. We shall be wholly at their mercy in the darkness."

"Even so, Juan," was the calm answer; "and yet we must remain. We set out with no thought of going in search of child's play. It is our lives or the expedition."

And so they sat on in that boat, watching and watched, and the night fell. Easily could the Indians have slain them all, but they were afraid. The spirits of a thousand warriors were quelled by one man's fearlessness. And as the blackness of night began to fade away into pale dawn, the chief and his army faded from the scene—stole back to Veragua stupefied and conquered. Moral power had won its strange, bloodless victory. Then the watchers in the boat roused up, took their oars again, and returned with their news to the ships.

"And thus the woman's truth is proved," said Montoro eagerly.

But his convictions were something lessened when the Admiral said slowly—

"You are more sure than I, my son. That you saw an army of the natives I fully believe. But that they had any purpose to attack us I strongly doubt. Quibian has given many proofs of his friendly feelings towards us. And even to-day he has sent us a plentiful supply of fish, and game, and cocoa-nuts, maize, bananas, and pine-apples."

"And even to-day," interrupted Mendez with unusual heat, "even to-day, Señor, the Cacique Quibian is meditating our massacre. Give me but this cool-headed boy to go with me, and we will penetrate to the very head-quarters of his people, to his very residence itself, and learn the truth so fully that you shall no longer be able to doubt our testimony."

There was a pause. The veteran navigator gazed with keen eyes at his two excited companions, and at length said slowly—

"I send you not on so perilous a quest, but you may go."

The faces of his hearers lighted up as though he had endowed them with some new-found gold mines, and with a hasty farewell from Montoro to his half-jealous friend Fernando, the two companions were rowed back again to land, and at once set out alone on their desperate expedition.

For nearly an hour they walked on rapidly side by side in silence. At last Montoro asked doubtfully,—

"Why keep we thus to the seaboard, Señor? Surely we have learnt that the residence of the Cacique is far away up yonder, beyond the forest. We should be turning inland if we wish to reach it."

Mendez turned his shrewd face towards his questioner with a slight smile.

"Ah, my friend, thou art bold and brave beyond thy years, and ready, to boot; but thou hast not yet quite an old head on thy shoulders, I perceive. If our foes are watching for our destruction as we suppose, how long thinkest thou, I and thou should live, bewildered, trapped, and helpless, in yonder jungle? No, we will keep to the shore till we reach the Veragua, and then we will follow the Veragua till it leads us to this Cacique's village, and his own abode. Light, and a clear space, are valuable to us just now."

Diego Mendez was willing to sacrifice his life freely for the general good, but he had no idea of wasting it. Montoro did not wish to waste his either, but to his impetuous nature this winding round, instead of making a straight dash, was becoming very tedious, when they at length reached the river's mouth, and at the same time came upon two canoes and a party of native fishermen. Whether subjects of Quibian or of his rival, the Spaniards could not ascertain, but whoever they were, they showed themselves so kind and hospitable that the tired and footsore pedestrians made signs to be taken into the canoes, when they were about to set out on their return voyage up the river.

Making sure of consent, the notary went so far as to put his foot on to the end of the canoe ready for stepping in. But the owners sprang forward to push him back, with most vigorous shakings of the head, and still more significant pointings towards the village, and the bundles of arrows in their own canoes.

Mendez and Montoro exchanged glances. There was no longer, then, much doubt of the fate intended them, and ere many minutes had passed they had learnt that the disconcerted warriors of last night were only waiting for the next day, before making a fresh descent upon the white intruders, shooting them, and burning the new settlement.

"Even so," said Diego Mendez at last. "We have but learnt afresh what we were well assured of before. But we will not wait for the doom intended us. It better beseems Spaniards to be the first aggressors."

As to the general humanity or morality of that sentiment young Montoro might have taken exception at a quieter moment; but just now he was infinitely too excited for tranquil thought, and eagerly seconded his older companion in so urging to be taken up the river, that at length the kind, simple-hearted fishermen consented, although with great reluctance.

The poor people's astonishment was still greater when, on reaching the village, picturesquely situated on the banks of the river, and now in all the bustle of warlike preparations, their two passengers insisted on landing, and putting themselves into the power of their enemies.

Still Diego Mendez preserved his cool presence of mind. Having learnt that Quibian had been wounded by an arrow, he gave out that he was a surgeon come to heal the injured leg; and demanding immediate admission to the Cacique, he mounted the hill to the very walls of the royal residence.

Arrived at the summit of the eminence, he and his companion paused a moment to take breath, and Montoro, for all his courage, could not wholly suppress a shudder at the hideous ornamentation of the royal domain. Three hundred human heads, recently torn from their trunks, were arranged in circles, in all their grim horribleness, before the Cacique's abode, the trophies of his valour, and significant warnings to his adversaries.

Mendez also glanced at these heads, and from them to the handsome lad beside him, so rich with the blessings of vigorous youth and health, and a shade of regret passed over his face.

But it was too late for such reflections now. The die was cast, and they must advance, and resolutely. The slightest token of hesitation or fear would most assuredly be fatal.

But however brave they might be, others were cowardly enough. They had scarcely moved forward a dozen steps on the plateau of the hill when a crowd of women and children caught sight of the strange new beings, and throwing their arms wildly above their heads in a very abandonment of terror, they fled in all directions, startling the echoes with their shrieks.