It was very plain that Martin Alonzo had conceived a sudden and strong liking for his young cousin, and was disposed to humor him. Diego felt it, and it induced him to continue his story.
“Well, there was no intention of hurting you; but I could not make out what was intended when one of them slipped over the rail. However, I hid myself as well as I could, meaning to seek you as soon as they were in the forecastle again. But one of them saw me and sprang on me. The other came to his assistance and choked out the cry I would have uttered. Then, one of them was for throwing me over the rail, fearing for their lives if I betrayed them.”
“I should have hanged them,” interjected Martin Alonzo, grimly.
“The other would not permit me to be murdered, and threatened to fight and cry out if the design were persisted in; so I was spared on condition of taking an oath not to reveal what I had seen.”
“Well, of course,” said Martin Alonzo, “if you took an oath!”
“But I did not. You came on deck then and I escaped without taking the oath.”
“Then why did you not tell me at once?” cried Martin Alonzo.
“Why,” said Diego, holding up his head proudly, “if I had taken the oath, I should have owed it to them to keep silence; while not taking it, I owed it to myself, and that was more to me than what I owed perforce.”
He looked very handsome and winsome as he stood there in his young pride, and Martin Alonzo thought so. He cast an approving glance at Garcia Fernandez and Francisco Martin, and sprang up from his chair.
“Embrace me, boy!” he cried, rapturously; for he dearly loved a brave action and a lofty spirit. “Thou art a true Pinzon, and I am proud of thee. There, Diego,” he went on, “if I discover not Zipangu, at least I have discovered thy mother’s son, and that will be some recompense. Now, go for’ard, and ever count me friend. I would not have had thee do otherwise, and I thank the Holy Virgin that I was withheld from putting that shame on thee.”