Chapter XXVII.
The boys stood waiting for the boats to come nearer to where they were; but as it took the boats some time to reach that point, owing to the tide and current running together, the boys had time to recover from their ecstasy and to consider some things.
There was the Pinta with the Niña, and the Santa Maria was not to be seen. This gave them a curious feeling as of something being wrong. They could not have told what, but it made them wonder if it would not be wise to make themselves known privately to the men of the Pinta.
So they hastened up the river farther, and waited there until they should see if the men would land, or take the water out of the river at the middle, which they might do if they were afraid of the natives. But it seemed that the men were not afraid of the Indians, and rowed up the river to where a small stream emptied into it, and there they went ashore.
It was a little higher up, but on the same side where the boys were, and they hurried as silently as possible to the spot. They had recognized many of the Pinta’s men, and had mentioned them by name with great joy to each other; though Juan had looked eagerly for Miguel, and had been disappointed not to see him. They hoped, and it so happened, that the Niña’s boats would push off first. Then Diego and Juan, with shining eyes, stole closer to where the Pinta’s men were, and Diego called softy:
“Rodrigo! Rodrigo de Triana!”
“Holy St. Martin! who calls?” cried Rodrigo, the sound of something familiar in the tone turning his blood chill.
“Juan Cacheco and Diego Pinzon,” said Diego, and therewith stepped out of the thicket and stood revealed.
There was at first a disposition to flight on the part of the men; but there was something so very human in the joy of the boys that presently they were surrounded by all the sailors, who fairly embraced them in their joy.