letter from the Admiral; for it is probable that Columbus may have
reported some of Martin's doings to them.

Be that as it may, there are no flags and guns for him as he comes
creeping in up the river; his one anxiety is to avoid the Admiral and to
get home as quickly and quietly as he can. For he is ill, poor Martin
Alonso; whether from a broken heart, as the early historians say, or from
pure chagrin and disappointment, or, as is more likely, from some illness
contracted on the voyage, it is impossible to say. He has endured his
troubles and hardships like all the rest of them; no less skilfully than
Columbus has he won through that terrible tempest of February; and his
foolish and dishonest conduct has deprived him not only of the rewards
that he tried to steal, but of those which would otherwise have been his
by right. He creeps quietly ashore and to his home, where at any rate we
may hope that there is some welcome for him; takes to his bed, turns his
face to the wall; and dies in a few days. So farewell to Martin Alonso,
who has borne us company thus far. He did not fail in the great matters
of pluck and endurance and nautical judgment, but only in the small
matters of honesty and decent manly conduct. We will not weep for Martin
Alonso; we will make our farewells in silence, and leave his deathbed
undisturbed by any more accusations or reproaches.