with Espanola, and thence with Spain; but how to do it in the absence of
ships or even boats? Columbus, pondering much upon this matter, one day
calls Diego Mendez aside; walks him off, most likely, under the great
rustling trees beyond the beach, and there tells him his difficulty.
"My son," says he, "you and I understand the difficulties and dangers of
our position here better than any one else. We are few; the Indians are
many; we know how fickle and easily irritated they are, and how a
fire-brand thrown into our thatched cabins would set the whole thing
ablaze. It is quite true that you have very cleverly established a
provision supply, but it is dependent entirely upon the good nature of
the natives and it might cease to-morrow. Here is my plan: you have a
good canoe; why should some one not go over to Espanola in it and send
back a ship for us?"

Diego Mendez, knowing very well what is meant, looks down upon the
ground. His spoken opinion is that such a journey is not merely
difficult but impossible journey in a frail native canoe across one
hundred and fifty miles of open and rough sea; although his private
opinion is other than that. No, he cannot imagine such a thing being
done; cannot think who would be able to do it.

Long silence from the Admiral; eloquent silence, accompanied by looks no
less eloquent.

"Admiral," says Mendez again, "you know very well that I have risked my
life for you and the people before and would do it again. But there are
others who have at least as good a right to this great honour and peril
as I have; let me beg of you, therefore, to summon all the company
together, make this proposal to them, and see if any one will undertake
it. If not, I will once more risk my life."