of joy and grief, shouts and feastings, firing of guns and flying
of flags, processions and receptions with these the deathless day is
filled; and the little Nina, her purpose staunchly fulfilled, swings
deserted on the turning tide, the ripples of her native Tinto making a
familiar music under her bowsprit.

And in the evening, with the last of the flood, another ship comes
gliding round the point and up the estuary. The inhabitants of Palos
have all left the shore and are absorbed in the business of welcoming the
great man; and there is no one left to notice or welcome the Pinta. For
it is she that, by a strange coincidence, and after many dangers and
distresses endured since she had parted company from the Nina in the
storm, now has made her native port on the very same day as the Nina.
Our old friend Martin Alonso Pinzon is on board, all the fight and
treachery gone out of him, and anxious only to get home unobserved. For
(according to the story) he had made the port of Bayona on the north-west
coast of Spain, and had written a letter from there to the Sovereigns
announcing his arrival and the discoveries that he had made; and it is
said that he had received an unpleasant letter in return, reproaching him
for not waiting for his commander and forbidding him to come to Court.
This story is possible if his letter reached the Sovereigns after the
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