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.