“No one would credit it to hear you now,” he said. “Well, what will satisfy you? Shall I ask your pardon in set words?”
But by this time Diego was able to see that he had come off marvellously well, and that he would be wise not to push his cousin’s complaisance any further. Indeed, the moment he was assured of Martin Alonzo’s kindly feeling, he lost all his resentment, and with true boyish inconsequence swung around from sullen anger and defiance into a gay good-humor that showed itself in his old-time mischief. He drew his hand from his belt, where it had been angrily clenched, and waved it in imitation of his cousin’s manner, and said, copying his tone and words:
“Say no more about it, say no more about it!”
Very much taken aback by this palpable and clever mimicry of himself, Martin Alonzo bit his lip, and then burst into a short but hearty ha-ha-ha, as if he could not help it; then checked himself and held out his hand, saying:
“There! take my hand like a cousin and a friend, and go your way for’ard and be a sailor again. I forgive you, and do you do the same by me, and forget what has happened.”
“Thank you, Martin Alonzo,” said Diego, taking the proffered hand. “I hope I shall show you how good a sailor I can be, since sailor I must be.”
“A brave lad and a shrewd!” said Martin Alonzo, as Diego left the cabin; “but, now, to this affair.”
“I crave your pardon, Martin Alonzo,” said Diego, thrusting his head in at the doorway, “but I have taken quick counsel with myself, and it seems to me there is something I may tell you without harm to any one.”
“I suppose,” said Martin Alonzo, friendly enough now, “you mean you will tell of good-will what you would not tell perforce.”