“Yes!” he shouted, in a ringing voice. “The devil is not feared by my father, because my father is an upright man and a Christian; nor does he fear the sea, because he is the boldest and most expert seaman that ever sailed the ocean floors. He fears God alone. He will return, and that soon, with the greatest honor and glory the world has ever seen; and you, men of Palos, who might have gone with him and did not, will regret it all your lives; and the women and the children of Palos and Moguer and Huelva will live to boast that it was these towns chiefly that supplied those who sailed with Christobal Colon, Admiral of the Ocean Seas and Viceroy and Captain-General of all lands to the westward. Do you remember that when my father sailed, he gave the order that when the ships had sailed seven hundred and fifty leagues to the westward no sail should be made after midnight, knowing that land would then be off their quarter? They were the words of a captain who knew how to lay his course and what he should find at the end of it. Look you, I and my brother would not change places to-day with the sons of the greatest man in Spain, for it will soon be seen that we are the sons of the greatest and boldest man in the world!”
As Diego proceeded, his voice grew firmer. A deep enthusiasm possessed his soul; his words, rapid and vehement, cut the air like swords. The people, astounded at such language from a beardless youth, remained silent. After a deep pause Diego added:
“Watch then, you men and women of Palos, the bar of Saltes this day; and when you see my father’s ship standing up the river, go down on your knees and ask pardon for all you have said against my father.”
Then Don Felipe shouted in a loud voice:
“You who revile and execrate the name of Christobal Colon to-day, to-morrow will hail him as the greatest man in the world. For my part I, Don Felipe Langara y Gama, grandee of Spain of the first rank, reckon it an honor to call the son of Christobal Colon my friend.”
With that Don Felipe threw his arm around Diego’s neck, and the two marched defiantly down the street, little Fernando walking in front of them. Diego hugged Don Felipe openly, and rubbed his cheek against that of his friend. The people of Palos, used to the distinction of rank, were impressed by Don Felipe’s words, and gazed curiously but silently at the two youths.
When they reached the waterside Diego said, with a strange look in his eyes, to Don Felipe:
“I have often thought as I lay in my bed at night, or as I attended the Prince in the palace, or sat at meat with other pages, or worked at my books, ‘At this moment my father is watching for sight of land. If it be daylight his eyes are fixed upon the horizon, watching for the dark line of the land to appear. If it be night-time he is standing on the poop watching, watching, watching for a light on shore.’ And so I shall watch all day for the sight of my father’s ship, and when night comes I will stay upon the quay still watching for him.”
As Diego spoke the sky, which had been rosy red, grew blue and brilliant as the sun suddenly burst out in great magnificence; the world seemed bathed in the golden glory. Diego had not once taken his eyes from the blue billows of the Atlantic rushing in over the bar of Saltes. And then—and then, he saw a speck upon the horizon, a vessel carrying all hard sail and standing straight for the bar. Diego’s heart almost leaped out of his body. He seized Don Felipe and shouted:
“Is that a caravel I see?”