“Then,” said Juan Perez, “you will have time to go with me and the brothers to the chapel, where we shall give thanks to God for the success of this great enterprise.”
Diego asked that the little Fernando be sent for, and soon the boy was seen running along, his little hand within Brother Lawrence’s big paw. Diego took the child in his arms, and kissed him with a heart overflowing with tenderness. He felt then more like a father to little Fernando than an elder brother. The Admiral had never ceased to impress upon Diego his sense of responsibility toward his younger brother, and Diego, whose heart was naturally tender, glowed with affection for the child. Fernando’s first question was:
“Diego, when will our father come back?”
“Very soon,” whispered Diego, “and he will bring you, Fernando, beautiful play-things and strange little animals for pets unlike any you have ever seen before.”
The Prior directed Brother Lawrence to ring the great courtyard bell that all the brothers might assemble in the chapel. When the solemn call of the bell was heard the monks, in their coarse robes and sandals, left their work and marched silently into the little stone chapel where Don Tomaso and Diego, with little Fernando, and Don Felipe and De Quintanilla and the men-at-arms were already assembled. The Prior, speaking from the altar steps, said simply that he had heard good news of great import to Spain, and he desired all to unite in thanks to God for what had been vouchsafed them. Diego joined with a sense of deep gratitude in these thanksgivings; and little Fernando, his hands clasped, whispered in Diego’s ear:
“I prayed every night and morning that our father would return, and now he is coming, so I shall thank God just as you do.”
The quiet monastery was thrilled with subdued excitement; but nothing passed beyond its stone walls.
De Quintanilla waited until the darkness fell before leaving on foot to visit the families of the Pinzons.
Diego and Don Felipe were given the same little tower room in which they had last slept almost a year and a half before. They were no longer pupils of Fray Piña; but they had learned to regard his stern justice with respect.
“He was very hard with us,” said Don Felipe; “but not so hard as the master of the pages.”