“I love the youth, Martin Alonzo; but it is for his good,” said the friar, who found it hard to bear witness against Diego.
“And you think that without an adequate punishment he will not be the ornament to the church that he otherwise would?”
“I wish I could think differently,” said the friar.
“And I wish,” said Diego, desperately, having given up hope, “that you would do the worst and have it over. I can stand a flogging if it must be; but I hate suspense.”
“You shall be relieved of that,” said Martin Alonzo, grimly. “I have thought of the thing which will at once be a punishment for him, a boon to me, and a relief to you.”
Diego held his breath, his first fear rushing over him in an instant.
“And that is—?” asked the friar, not without uneasiness, himself.
“He shall go the voyage with me,” said Martin Alonzo. “I need another hand, and he is agile and strong and will suit me as well as another—better, it may be, since he hath such a strong interest in the voyage.”
“It must not be,” said the startled friar.
“It shall be,” said Martin Alonzo, in such a tone and with such a fire in his eye that Diego felt himself unequal to any words, though the friar, indignant at the trap he had led Diego into, protested vehemently.