and action.  But he is a sea master too, and he makes a good map.—­I thank God who gave us good parents, and to us all three mind and a firm will!  The inheritance passes to my sons.  You have not seen them?  They are youths of great promise!  A family that is able and at one, loving and aiding each the other, honoring its past and providing for its future, becomes, I tell you, an Oak that cannot be felled—­an Ark that rides the waters!”

As he moved, his chains made again their dull noise.  “Do they greatly gall you?”

“Yes, they gall!  Flesh and spirit.  But I shall wear them until the Queen saith, `Away with them!’ But ever after I shall keep them by me!  They shall hang in my house where forever men shall see them!  In my son’s house after me, and in his son’s!”

Alonso de Villejo visited him.  “The tempest is over, senor.  I take it for good augury in your affair!”

Juan Lepe upon the deck found beside him a man whom he knew.  “What d’ye think?  At the worst, in the middle night, there came to Don Alonso and the master the old seamen and would have him freed so that he might save us!  They said that they had seen his double upon the poop, looking at the sea and waving his arm.  Then it vanished!  They wanted the whole man, they wanted the Admiral!  The master roared at them and sent them back, but if it had come to the worst—­I don’t know!”

Cadiz—­the Santa Marta came to Cadiz.  Before us had arrived Bobadilla’s ships, one, two and three.  What he found to say through his messengers of the Admiral and Viceroy was in the hands and eyes and ears of all.  He said at the height of his voice, across the ocean from Hispaniola, violent and villainous things.

Cadiz—­Spain.  We crowded to look..  Down plunged anchor, down rattled sails, around us came the boats.  The Admiral and the Adelantado rested in chains.  The corregidor of Cadiz took them both thus ashore and to a house where they were kept, until the Sovereigns should say, “Bring them before us!”

Juan Lepe the physician was let to go in the boat with him.  Juan Lepe—­Jayme de Marchena.  It was eight years since I had quitted Spain.  I was older by that, grizzled, bearded and so bronzed by the Indies that I needed no Moorish stain.  I trusted God that Don Pedro and the Holy Office had no longer claws for me.

Cadiz, and all the people out, pointing and staring.  I remembered what I had been told of the return from his first voyage, and the second voyage.  Then had been bells and trumpets, flowers, banners, grandees drawing him among them, shouts and shouts of welcome!

He walked in gyves, he and the Adelantado, to the house of his detention.  Once only a single voice was raised in a shout, “El Almirante!” We came to the house, not a prison, though a prison for him.  In a good enough room the corregidor sought to have the chains removed.  The Admiral would not, keeping back with voice and eye the men who wished to part them from him.  When the Sovereigns knew, and when the Sovereigns sent—­then, but not before!