University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

In the year of Grace fifteen hundred and twenty,
upon a day in the month of May thereof, the sun rose
over the islands of the new deep, and the mountains
that divided it from an ocean yet unknown, and
looked upon the havoc, which, in the name of God,
a Christian people were working-upon the loveliest
of his regions. He had seen, in the revolution of a
day, the strange transformations which a few years
had brought upon all the climes and races of his
love. The standard of Portugal waved from the
minarets of the east; a Portuguese admiral swept
the Persian Gulf, and bombarded the walls of Ormuz;
a Portuguese viceroy held his court on the shores
of the Indian ocean; the princes of the eastern continent
had exchanged their bracelets of gold for the
iron fetters of the invader; and among the odours of
the Spice Islands, the fumes of frankincense ascended
to the God of their new masters. He passed on his
course: the breakers that dashed upon the sands of
Africa, were not whiter than the squadrons that
rolled among them; the chapel was built on the
shore, and under the shadow of the crucifix was
fastened the first rivet in the slavery of her miserable
children. Then rose he over the blue Atlantic:
the new continent emerged from the dusky deep; the
ships of discoverers were penetrating its estuaries
and straits, from the Isles of Fire even to the frozen
promontories of Labrador; and the roar of cannon
went up to heaven, mingled with the groans and blood
of naked savages. But peace had descended upon

the islands of America; the gentle tribes of these
paradises of ocean wept in subjection over the graves
of more than half their race; hamlets and cities were
springing up in their valleys and on their coasts;
the culverin bellowed from the fortress, the bell
pealed from the monastery; and the civilization and
vices of Europe had supplanted the barbarism and
innocence of the feeble native. Still, as he careered
to the west, new spectacles were displayed before
him; the followers of Balboa had built a proud city
on the shores, and were launching their hasty barks
on the surges of the New Ocean; the hunter of the
Fountain of Youth was perishing under the arrows
of the wild warriors of Florida, and armed Spaniards
were at last retreating before a pagan multitude. One
more sight of pomp and of grief awaited him: he
rose on the mountains of Mexico; the trumpet of
the Spaniards echoed among the peaks; he looked
upon the bay of Ulua, and, as his beams stole tremblingly
over the swelling current, they fell upon the
black hulls and furled canvas of a great fleet riding
tranquilly at its moorings. The fate of Mexico was
in the scales of destiny; the second army of invaders
had been poured upon her shores. In truth, it
was a goodly sight to look upon the armed vessels
that thronged this unfrequented bay; for peacefully
and majestically they slept on the tide, and as the
morning hymn of the mariners swelled faintly on the
air, one would have thought they bore with them to
the heathen the tidings of great joy, and the good-will
and grace of their divine faith, instead of the
earthly passions which were to cover the land with
lamentation and death.

With the morning sunbeam, stole into the harbour
one of those little caravels, wherein the men of those
days dared the perils of unknown deeps, and sought
out new paths to renown and fortune; and as she
drew nigh to the reposing fleet, the hardy adventurers
who thronged her deck, gazed with new interest
and admiration on the shores of that empire, the

fame of whose wild grandeur and wealth had already
driven from their minds the dreams of Golconda
and the Moluccas. No fortress frowned on
the low islands, no city glistened among the sand-hills
on shore: the surf rolled on the coast of an uninhabited
waste: the tents of the armourer and other artisans,
the palm-thatched sheds of the sick, and some
heaps of military stores, covered with sails, and
glimmering in the sun, were the only evidences of
life on a beach which was, in after times, to become
the site of a rich and bustling port. But beyond
the low desert margin of the sea, and over the rank
and lovely belt of verdure, which succeeded the glittering
sand-hills, rose a rampart of mountains green
with an eternal vegetation, over which again peered
chain after chain, and crag after crag, with still the
majestic Perote and the colossal Orizabo frowning
over all, until those who had dwelt among the Pyrenees,
or looked upon the Alps, as some of that adventurous
company had done, dreamed what wealth
should be in a land, whose first disclosure was so full
of grandeur.

Of the four-score individuals who crowded the
decks of the little caravel, there was not one whose
countenance, at that spectacle, did not betray a touch
of the enthusiasm,—the mingled lust of glory and of
lucre,—which had already transformed so many ruffians
into heroes. Among this motley throng might
be seen all sorts of martial madmen, from the scarred
veteran who had fought the Moors under the
walls of Oran, to the runagate stripling who had
hanselled his sword of lath on the curs of Seville;
from the hidalgo who remembered the pride of his
ancestors, in the cloak of his grandsire, to the boor
who dreamed of the crown of a pagan emperor, in
a leather shirt and cork shoes: here was a brigand,
who had cursed the Santa Hermandad of all Castile,
and now rejoiced over a land where he could cut
throats at his leisure; there a gray-haired extortioner,
whom roguery had reduced to bankruptcy, but who

hoped to repair his fortune by following the pack of
man-hunters, and picking up the offals they despised,
or cheating them of the prizes they had secured;
here too was a holy secular, who came to exult over the
confusion and destruction of all barbarians who should
see nothing diviner in the crucifix than in their own
idols. The greater number, however, was composed
of debauched and decayed planters of the islands,
who ceased to lament their narrow acres and decreasing
bondmen, snatched away by the good fortune of
some fellow-profligate, when they thought of territories
for an estate, and whole tribes for a household.
Indeed, in all the group, however elevated and ennobled,
for the moment, by the excitement of the scene,
and by the resolute impatience they displayed to rush
upon adventures well known to be full of suffering
and peril, there was but one whom a truly noble-hearted
gentleman would have chosen to regard with
respect, or to approach with friendship.

This was a young cavalier, who, in propriety of
habiliments, in excellence of person, and in nobleness
of carriage, differed greatly from all: and, to say the
truth, he himself seemed highly conscious of the difference,
since he regarded all his fellow-voyagers,
saving only his own particular and armed attendants,
with the disdain befitting so distinguished a personage.
His frame, tall and moderately athletic, was arrayed
in hose and doublet of a dusky brown cloth, slashed
with purple: his cap and cloak were of black velvet,
and in the band of one, and on the shoulder of the
other, were symbols of his faith and his profession,—
the first being a plain crucifix of silver, and the second
a cross of white cloth of eight points, inserted in the
mantle. In addition to these badges of devotion, he
wore a cross of gold, pointed like the former, and
suspended to his neck by a chain of such length and
massiveness, as to imbue his companions with high
notions of his rank and affluence.

The only point in which he exhibited any feeling
in common with his companions, was in admiration

of the noble prospect that stretched before him, and
which was every moment disclosing itself with newer
and greater beauty, as the wind wafted his little
vessel nearer to it. His cheek flushed, his eye kindled,
and smiting his hands together, in his ardour,
he dropped so much of his dignity as to address many
of his exclamations to the obsequious but not ungentle
master.

“By St. John! señor Capitan,” he cried, with rapture,
“this is a most noble land to be wasted upon
savages!”

“True, señor Don Amador,” replied the thrice-honoured
master; “a noble land, a rich land, a most
glorious land; and, I warrant me, man has never
before looked on its equal.”

“For my part,” said the youth, proudly, “I have
seen some lands, that, in the estimation of those who
know better, may be pronounced divine; among
which I may mention the Greek islands, the keys of
the Nile, the banks of the Hellespont, and the hills of
Palestine,—not to speak of Italy, and many divisions
of our own country: yet, to be honest, I must allow
I have never yet looked upon a land, which, at the
first sight, impressed me with such strange ideas of
magnificence.”

“What then will be your admiration, noble cavalier,”
said the captain, “when you have passed this
sandy shore, and yonder rugged hills, and find yourself
among the golden valleys they encompass!
for all those who have returned from the interior,
thus speak of them, and declare upon the gospels and
their honour, no man can conceive properly of paradise,
until he has looked upon the valleys of Mexico.”

“I long to be among them,” said the youth; “and
the sooner I am mounted on my good steed, Fogoso,
(whom God restore to his legs and his spirit, for this
cursed ship has cramped both;) I say, the sooner I
am mounted upon my good horse, and scattering this
heathen sand from under his hoofs, the better will it
be for myself, as well as for him. Hark'ee, good

captain: I know not by what sort of miracle I shall
surmount yonder tall and majestic pinnacles; but it
will be some consolation, while stumbling among
them, to be able at least to pronounce their names.
What call you yon mountain to the north, with the
huge, coffer-like crag on its summit?”

“Your favour has even hit the name, in finding a
similitude for the crag,” said the captain. “The
Indians call it by a name, which signifies the Square
Mountain; but poor mariners like myself, who can
scarce pronounce their prayers, much less the uncouth
and horrible articulations of these barbarians, are
content to call it the Coffer Mountain. It lies hard
by the route to the great city; and is said to be such
a desolate, fire-blasted spot as will sicken a man with
horror.”

“And yon kingly monster,” continued the cavalier,
“that raises his snowy cone up to heaven, and mixes
his smoke with the morning clouds,—that proudest
of all,—what call you him?”

“Spaniards have named him Orizaba,” said the
master; “but these godless Pagans, who cover every
human object with some diabolical superstition, call
that peak the Starry Mountain; because the light of
his conflagration, seen afar by night, shines like to a
planet, and is thought by them to be one of their gods,
descending to keep watch over their empire.”

“A most heathenish and damning belief!” said the
youth, with a devout indignation; “and I do not
marvel that heaven has given over to bondage and
destruction a race stained with such beastly idolatry.
But nevertheless, señor Capitan, and notwithstanding
that it is befouled with such impious heresies, I must
say, that I have looked upon Mount Olympus, a
mountain in Greece, whereon, they say, dwelt the
accursed old heathen gods, (whom heaven confound!)
before the time that our blessed Saviour hurled them
into the Pit; and yet that mountain Olympus is but a
hang-dog Turk's head with a turban, compared to
this most royal Orizaba, that raiseth up his front like

an old patriarch, and smokes with the glory of his
Maker.”

“And yet they say,” continued the captain, “that
there is a mountain of fire even taller and nobler
than this, and that hard by the great city. But your
worship will see this for yourself, with many other
wonders, when your worship fights the savages in
the interior.”

“If it please Heaven,” said the cavalier, “I will
see this mountain, and those other wonders, whereof
you speak; but as to fighting the savages, I must
give you to know, that I cannot perceive how a man
who has used his sword upon raging Mussulmans,
with a sultan at their head, can condescend to draw
it upon poor trembling barbarians, who fight with
flints and fish-bones, and run away, a thousand of
them together, from six not over-valiant Christians.”

“Your favour,” said the captain, “has heard of the
miserable poltroonery of the island Indians, who,
truth to say, are neither Turks nor Moors of Barbary:
but, señor Don Amador de Leste, you will find
these dogs of Mexico to be another sort of people,
who live in stone cities instead of bowers of palm-leaves;
have crowned emperors, in place of feathered
caciques; are marshalled into armies, with drums,
banners, and generals, like Christian warriors; and,
finally, go into battle with a most resolute and commendable
good will. They will pierce a cuirass
with their copper lances, crush an iron helmet with
their hardened war-clubs, and,—as has twice or
thrice happened with the men of Hernan Cortez,—
they will, with their battle-axes of flint, smite through
the neck of a horse, as one would pierce a yam with
his dagger. Truly, señor caballero, these Mexicans
are a warlike people.”

“What you tell me,” said Don Amador, “I have
heard in the islands; as well as that these same
mountain Indians roast their prisoners with pepper
and green maize, and think the dish both savoury
and wholesome; all which matters, excepting only

the last, which is reasonable enough of such children
of the devil, I do most firmly disbelieve: for how,
were they not cowardly caitiffs, could this rebellious
cavalier, the valiant Hernan Cortes, with his six hundred
mutineers, have forced his way even to the great
city Tenochtitlan, and into the palace of the emperor?
By my faith,” and here the señor Don Amador twisted
his finger into his right mustachio with exceeding
great complacency, “these same Mexicans may be
brave enemies to the cavaliers of the plantations,
who have studied the art of war among the tribes of
Santo Domingo and Cuba; but to a soldier who, as
I said before, has fought the Turks, and that too at
the siege of Rhodes, they must be even such chicken-hearted
slaves as it would be shame and disgrace to
draw sword upon.”

The master of the caravel regarded Don Amador
with admiration for a moment, and then said, with
much emphasis, “May I die the death of a mule, if I
am not of your way of thinking, most noble Don
Amador. To tell you the truth, these scurvy Mexicans,
of whose ferocity and courage so much is said
by those most interested to have them thought so,
are even just such poor, spiritless, contemptible creatures
as the Arrowauks of the isles, only that there
are more of them; and, to be honest, I know nothing
that should tempt a soldier and hidalgo to make war
on them, except their gold, of which the worst that
can be said is, first, that there is not much of it, and
secondly, that there are too many hands to share it.
There is neither honour nor wealth to be had in Tenochtitlan.
But if a true soldier and a right noble
gentleman, as the world esteems Don Amador de
Leste, should seek a path worthy of himself, he has
but to say the word, and there is one to be found from
which he may return with more gold than has yet
been gathered by any fortunate adventurer, and more
renown than has been won by any other man in the
new world: ay, by St. James, and diadems may be
found there! provided one have the heart to contest

for them with men who fight like the wolves of Catalonia,
and die with their brows to the battle!”

“Now by St. John of Jerusalem!” said Amador,
kindling with enthusiasm, “that is a path which, as
I am a true Christian and Castilian, I should be rejoiced
to tread. For the gold of which you speak,
it might come if it would, for gold is a good thing,
even to one who is neither needy nor covetous; but I
should be an idle hand to gather it. As for the diadems,
I have my doubts whether a man, not born by
the grace of God to inherit them, has any right to
wear them, unless, indeed, he should marry a king's
daughter: but here the kings are all infidels, and, I
vow to Heaven, I would sooner burn at a stake, along
with a Christian beggar, than sell my soul to perdition
in the arms of any infidel princess whatever. But
for the renown of subduing a nation of such valiant
Pagans as those you speak of, and of converting them
to the true faith! that is even such a thought as makes
my blood tingle within me; and were I, in all particulars,
the master of my own actions, I should say
to you, Right worthy and courageous captain, (for
truly from those honourable scars on your front and
temple, and from your way of thinking, I esteem you
such a man,) point me out that path, and, with the
blessing of Heaven, I will see to what honour it may
lead me.”

“Your favour,” said the captain, “has heard of the
great island, Florida, and of the renowned señor Don
Ponce de Leon, its discoverer?”

“I have heard of such names, both of isle and of
man, I think, said Don Amador, “but, to say truth,
señor comandante, you have here, in this new world,
such a multitude of wonderful territories, and of heroic
men, that, were I to give a month's labour to the
study, I think I should not master the names of all of
them. Truly, in Rhodes, where the poor knights of
the Hospital stood at bay before Solyman el Magnifico,
and did such deeds as the world had not heard
of since the days of Leonidas and his brave knights

of Sparta,—I say, even in Rhodes, where all men
thought of their honour and religion, and never a moment
of their blood, we heard not of so many heroes
as have risen up here in this corner of the earth, in a
few years' chasing of the wild Indians.”

“The señor Ponce de Leon,” said the captain,
without regarding the sneer of the proud soldier,
“the señor Ponce de Leon, Adelantado of Bimini
and of Florida, in search of the miraculous Fountain
of Youth, which, the Indians say, lies somewhere to
the north, landed eight years ago, with the crews of
three ships, all of them bigger and better than this
little rotten Sangre de Cristo, whereof I myself commanded
one. Of the extraordinary beauty and fertility
of the land of Florida, thus discovered, I will
say nothing. Your favour will delight more to hear me
speak of its inhabitants. These were men of a noble
stature, and full of such resolution, that we were no
sooner ashore, than they fell upon us; and I must
say, we found we were now at variance with a people
in no wise resembling those naked idiots of Cuba,
or these cowardly hinds of Mexico. They cared
not a jot for swordsman, arcubalister, or musketeer.
To our rapiers they opposed their stone battle-axes,
which gushed through the brain more like a thunderbolt
than a Christian espada; no crossbowman could
drive an arrow with more mortal aim and fury than
could these wild archers with their horn bows, (for
know, señor, they have, in that country of Florida,
some prodigious animal, which yields them abundant
material for their weapons;) and, what filled us with
much surprise, and no little fear, instead of betaking
themselves to their heels at the sound of our firelocks,
as we looked for them to do, no sooner had
they heard the roar of these arms, than they fetched
many most loud and frightful yells, to express their
contempt of our warlike din, and rushed upon us with
such renewed and increasing violence, that, to be
honest, as a Christian of my years should be, we
were fain to betake ourselves to our ships with what

speed and good fortune we could. And now, señor,
you will be ashamed to hear that our courage was
so much mollified by this repulse, and our fears of
engaging further with such desperadoes so urgent
and potent, that we straightway set sail, and, in the
vain search for the enchanted Fountain, quite forgot
the nobler objects of the voyage.”

“What you have said,” quoth Don Amador,
“convinces me that these savages of Florida are a
warlike people, and worthy the wrath of a brave
soldier; but you have said nothing of the ores and
diadems, whereof, I think, you first spake, and which,
heaven save the mark! by some strange mutation of
mind, have made a deeper impression on my imagination
than such trifles should.”

“We learned of some wounded captives we carried
to the ships,” continued the master, “as well, at
least, as we could understand by their signs, that
there was a vast country to the north-west, where
dwelt nations of fire-worshippers, governed by kings,
very rich and powerful, on the banks of a great
river; and from some things we gathered, it was
thought by many that the miraculous Fountain was
in that land, and not in the island Bimini; and this
think I myself, for, señor, I have seen a man who,
with others, had slaked his thirst in every spring that
gushes from that island, and, by my faith, he died of
an apoplexy the day after his arrival in the Habana.
Wherefore, it is clear, that marvellous Fountain must
be in the country of the fire-worshippers. But notwithstanding
all these things, señor, our commander
Don Ponce, would resolve upon naught but to return
to the Bahamas, where our ships were divided, each
in search of the island called Bimini. It was my
fortune to be despatched westward; and here, what
with the aid of a tempest that blew from the east,
and some little hankering of mine own appetites after
that land of the fire-worshippers, I found myself
many a league beyond where any Christian had ever
navigated before, where a fresh and turbid current

rolled through the deep, bearing the trunks of countless
great trees, many of them scorched with fire:
whereupon I knew that I was near to the object of
my desires, which, however, the fears and the discontent
of my crew prevented my reaching. I was
even compelled to obey them, and conduct them to
Cuba.”

“Señor Capitan,” said Amador, who had listened
to the master's narrative with great attention, “I
give you praise for your bold and most commendable
daring in having sailed so far, and I condole with you
for your misfortune in being compelled to abide the
government of a crew of such runagate and false
companions, whom I marvel exceedingly you did not
hang, every man of 'em, to some convenient corner
of your ship, as was the due of such disloyal knaves;
but yet, credit me, I see not what this turbid and
fresh flood, and what these floating trees, had to do
with the gold and the diadems, of which you were
speaking.”

“Señor,” said the Captain earnestly, “I have
navigated the deep for, perhaps, more years than
your favour has lived; and it was my fortune to be
with the Admiral—”

“With Colon!” cried the youth.

“With his excellency, the admiral, Don Cristobal
Colon, the discoverer of this new world!” replied the
master proudly, “in his own good ship, when we sailed
into the Serpent's Mouth, which, we knew not
then, laved the shores of the great Continent; and I
remember that when the admiral had beheld the
trees floating in the current, and had tasted of the
fresh water of that boiling gulf, he told us that these
came from a great river rolling through a mighty
continent. And, in after times, the words of the admiral
were proved to be just; for there his captain,
the young Pinzon, found the great river Oronoko.”

“There is no man,” said Don Amador, “who more
reverences the memory of the admiral than I; and I
feel the more regard for yourself, that you have sailed

with him on his discoveries. Moreover, I beg
your pardon, insomuch as I have been slow to unravel
your meaning. But now, I perceive, you think
you had reached that river of the infidel fire-worshippers,
whom God confound with fire and flame! as
doubtless he will. And hath no man again sought
the mouth of that river? I marvel you did not yourself
make a second attempt.”

“I could not prevail upon any cavaliers, rich
enough for the undertaking,” said the master, “to
league with me in it. Men liked not the spirit of the
northern savages; and, in truth, there were a thousand
other lands where the barbarians could be subdued
with less peril, and, as they thought, with a better
hope of gain. And yet, by our lady, that river bore
with it the evidences of the wealth on its banks; for
what were those scorched trees, but the relics of the
fires with which the kings of the land were smelting
their ores? and what quantity of gold must there not
have been where such prodigious furnaces were
kindled!”

“By the mass!” said Amador, with ardour, “you
speak the truth; it is even a most wonderful land;
and if a few thousand pesoes would float an expedition,
by my faith, I think I could find them.”

“A few thousand pesoes, and the countenance of
such a leader as Don Amador de Leste, a knight of
the holy and valiant order of San Juan—”

“A knight by right, but not by vow,” said Don
Amador, hastily: “I give you to understand, señor
Capitan, that I am not a sworn brother of that most
ancient, honourable, and knightly order, but an humble
volunteer, attached, for certain reasons of my
own, to them, and privileged by the consent of his
most eminent highness, the Grand Master, to wear
these badges, wherein I am arrayed, in acknowledgment
that I did some service not unworthy knighthood
in the trenches of Rhodes.”

“Your favour will not lead the less worthily for
that,” said the Captain; “I know an hundred cavaliers

who would throw their ducats, as well as their arms,
into the adventure prescribed by the señor Don Amador;
and a thousand cross-bows, with three or four
score arquebusiers, would flock to the standard as soon
as we had preached through the islands a crusade to
the fire-worshippers, and a pilgrimage to the Waters
of Life.”

“And is it truly believed,” said Amador, eagerly,
“that such waters are to be found in these heathen
lands?”

“Who can doubt it?” said the Captain; “the Indians
of the Bahamas have spoken of them for years;
no Spaniard hath ever thought of questioning their existence;
and at this moment, so great is the certainty
of finding them, that my old leader, Don Ponce, is
collecting round him men for a second expedition,
with which he will depart I know not how soon. But
I know Don Ponce; the draught of youth is not for
him; he will seek the fountain on his great island of
Florida, and find it not: it will bubble only to the
lips of those who seek it near the great river of the
great continent.”

“By heaven!” said Don Amador, “what might
not a man do, who could drink of this miraculous
fountain! A draught of it would have carried the
great Alejandro so far into the East, as to have left
but small work for the knaves of Portugal. And
then our friends! Dios mio! we could keep our
friends by us for ever! But hold, señor Capitan—a
thought strikes me: have you ever heard the opinion
of a holy clergyman on this subject? Is it lawful
for a man to drink of such a fountain?”

“By my faith,” replied the master, “I have never
heard priest or layman advance an argument against
its lawfulness: and I know not how it should be criminal,
since Providence hath given us the privilege
to drink of any well, whose waters are not to our
misliking.”

“For my part,” said Amador, “I must say, I have
my doubts whether Providence hath given us any

such privilege; the exercise of which, in general,
would greatly confound the world, by over-peopling
it, and, in particular, would seem, in a measure, to
put man in a condition to defy his Maker, and to defeat
all the ends of divine goodness and justice: for
how should a man be punished for his sins, who had
in him the power of endless life? and how should a
man keep from sinning, who had no fear of death and
the devil? and, finally, how should we ever receive
any of the benefits of the most holy atonement, after
drinking such a life-preserving draught?—for it is my
opinion, señor Capitan, no man would wish to go to
heaven, who had the power of remaining on earth.”

“By my soul,” said the captain earnestly, “this is
a consideration which never occupied me before;
and I shall take counsel upon it with the first holy
man I meet.”

“At all events,” said the cavalier, “there is inducement
enough to make search after this river, were it
only to fight the fire-worshippers, convert them to the
true faith, and see what may be the curiosities of
their land. Yet I must give you warning, it will rest
with another whom I am now seeking, whether I may
league with you in this enterprise or not. Give me
his consent and leading, and I will take leave of these
poor rogues of Tenochtitlan, as soon as I have looked
a little upon their wonders; and then, with the blessing
of God and St. John, have at the valiant fire-worshippers,
with all my heart!—But, how now,
señor Capitan? What means your pilot to cast anchor
here among the fleet, and not carry us forthwith
to the shore?”

“I dare not proceed farther,” said the captain,
“without the authority of the señor Cavallero, admiral
of this squadron, and governor of this harbour
of San Juan de Ulua. It is necessary I should report
myself to him for examination, on board the
Capitana, and receive his instructions concerning my
cargo and fellow-voyagers.”

“His instructions concerning your fellow-voyagers!”

said Don Amador, sternly. “I, for one, am
a voyager, who will receive no instructions for the
government of my actions, neither myself nor by
proxy; and, with God's blessing, I will neither ask
permission to disembark, nor allow it to be asked for
myself, or for my grooms; and the señor Cavallero,
or any other señor, that thinks to stop me, had better
grind both sides of his sword, by way of preparation
for such folly.”

“Your favour has no cause for anger,” said the
master, moderately. “This is the custom and the law,
and it becomes the more necessary to enforce it, in
the present situation of things. Your favour will
receive no check, but rather assistance; and it is
only necessary to assure the admiral you do not
come as a league and helpmate of the mutineer,
Cortes, to receive free license, a safe-conduct, and
perhaps, even guides, to go whithersoever you list
throughout this empire. This, señor, is only a form
of courtesy, such as one cavalier should expect of
another, and no more.”

“Truly, then, if you assure me so,” said Don
Amador, complacently, “I will not refuse to go myself
in person to his excellency, the admiral; and
the more readily that, I fancy, from the name, there
is some sort of blood-relationship between his excellency
and myself. But, by heaven, I would rather,
at present, be coursing Fogoso over yon glittering
sand, than winding a bolero on my cousin's deck,
though he were a king's admiral.”