“Diedrich!” cried Paul in an altered tone, “let me go in this ship. I will swear by all I hold sacred, by my mother’s grave, that no word of the gold shall pass my lips. Diedrich! I speak the truth. By all the dangers we passed through together, by the many times we have faced death believe me! I am dying slowly here, I must get back to my kind and my country. Do not deny me this chance!”
I was deeply affected by this appeal. Coming from the rude, untutored sailor its eloquence proved its truth. Because I did not feel this great o’ermastering yearning was it not possible for others to feel it?
Paul saw that his words had touched me and coming closer seized my hand.
“Diedrich! once when I was down you stood over me and drove back the Indians who would have killed me. Once when you fell, choking with thirst, I gave you all my share of what water we had, and staggered on until I found some more and brought it back to you. Diedrich! Let your old comrade go!”
“Paul!” I answered, “remember, I am not alone in this. Zolca, whose kindness you have abused, is your judge; it is against him and his people you have sinned.”
“But you can persuade him, Diedrich!”
“I will try. Promise me you will remain here quietly and not attempt to communicate with the ship.”
I took Zolca’s arm and we left the house. I told him what Paul had vowed and promised.
“But,” said he, reminding me of what I had clean forgotten, “what is the good of these promises? Is not the mischief done? Did not that fellow whom you fought tell you that Paul had told him all?”