The boldness of this stern order thrilled and captivated the awed and sullen throngs, and an involuntary cheer broke from them. The Admiral smiled and raised his hat in salute.
He stepped into his boat, followed by Diego and the little Fernando, and led the procession down the bright river to the vessels tugging at their anchors off the bar. As the Admiral’s boat reached the side of the Santa Maria the Admiral stood up and, taking the little Fernando in his arms, kissed and blessed him. Then he clasped Diego in his arms, kissing and blessing him likewise, without agitation on either side. Diego felt as if the wine of courage were pouring into his veins. He was so quiet, so smiling, so at ease, that he seemed worthy to be the son of his father. The little Fernando wept when the Admiral, from the Santa Maria’s poop, waved his hand back at the child; but Diego, taking the boy in his arms, said cheerfully:
“Do not weep, Fernando. Our father will return, bringing you wonderful things never seen before in Spain, and he will at once ask if you have been good and brave. If you weep you will be neither good nor brave.”
The little boy was soothed by Diego’s calmness, and waved his small hand cheerfully back at his father.
The boats returned to the quays, which were crowded with a multitude of persons, who made way respectfully for the sons of the Admiral. The ships then hoisted their sails, and with a fair wind slipped out into the open sea. The sky was glowing, and the earth and sea basked in a rose-red light shot with gold. As the three little vessels became white specks upon the horizon, where the blue sea met the bluer sky, the great sun suddenly burst forth in splendor; the vessels disappeared in the golden light which flooded the world with glory.
VII
THE JOYOUS HEARTS OF YOUTH
“DIEGO, DIEGO, wake up! Suppose you should be caught napping like this; you would have a hard time with the master of the pages, I can tell you!”
Diego opened his eyes, sprang to his feet, assumed a military attitude, and was all awake in a moment. It was Don Felipe who spoke, and they were in a splendid corridor of the palace at Barcelona. It was magnificently carpeted from the looms of Granada; and long, narrow windows let in a flood of sunshine upon splendid pictures on the walls, which were decorated with trophies of arms, the great curved simitars of the Moors with jeweled handles, Moorish shields and breastplates cunningly wrought with gold, and marvelous daggers and other arms. White statues gleamed against the dark-red walls, and everywhere were the beauty and splendor of a royal palace.