'Oh, sir, here is your son,' said Harry; and then Carlo, summoning up his courage, rushed toward his poor father and knelt by his side.
'Father, father, do you not know me? I am Carlo, your son. Forgive me if I ever spoke harshly, father.'
'Carlo my son? No, no, I have no son, no country. Don't let any one come here to find out my hiding-place; I warn them off. The pirates left me here; that was the kindest thing they did for me. I have no name, no titles. Don't tell any one where I am. What do they call it?--marooning--they marooned me, left me to die alone. It was their kindness; I bear them no grudge for doing that. No name, no country!'
'No, no,' cried Carlo; 'we will take care of you, father; you shall not die alone.' And turning his arm round the poor thin arm of his father, Carlo dragged him forward; and Harry, following behind, wiped away a few tears from his eyes; for it was indeed a sight to have touched the hardest heart. But evidently the poor Marquis was out of his mind and had not much longer to live.
The sound of human voices seemed to soothe him after a time; and when they reached the shade of the grove where Andreas had set out some food for the travellers, he was no longer muttering his few sentences. The surprise of the Indian can easily be imagined, and the poor fellow's pity for his old master was quite touching to witness, even though he had never received much kindness at his hands. Little by little the Marquis began to take in dimly that Carlo was with him, and to accept the services of Andreas as he waited on him; but though not actually starved, he had taken but little trouble to collect food, and the horror of loneliness and shame at his past treason seemed to have done the work of years. Carlo, who had all along been feeling a grudge against his father, could now forgive and forget everything.
'Oh, Andreas, how fortunate it was that you brought us here! Stay with us now, and do not go back to St. Catherine: I am so much afraid that your absence will be discovered, and then---- Do stay, and let us share our misfortunes and our luck.'
It was a great temptation to Andreas, and for a few moments he brooded in silence over the proposal; but he had learnt Christianity in a way not understood by many Christians. He considered that if he stayed he would certainly save himself, but if he returned he might help to save the poor ladies, who had now no protectors; and Andreas knew that the word of a pirate was but a poor thing to trust in. He believed that he could help them, and anyhow he could give them the knowledge that Carlo was safe and that the Marquis was found. What did his life matter? Had not the Padre told him these words: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,' and to the poor Indian the words were simple and powerful, and to be, if needs were, carried out literally. It took him but a few moments to make up his mind.
'Andreas must go back,' he said, smiling, now his decision was made; 'for the Señora and the Señorita will want to know the good news, and they may want also to come to the Queen of the Water. Andreas loves Señor Carlo dearly, but he will go away first and then come again.'
So towards evening, several hours before the sun set, Andreas was escorted to the boat, while the boys helped to push it off from the shore, and the Marquis stood by once more as if he were giving orders, though he merely said, 'Tell them, Andreas, that I did it for the best. The rascals deceived me. Tell them that, Andreas, and don't let my little Felipa think badly of me.'
CHAPTER XX