With its fever-poisoned air
For the slaves they capture so
(_Ay de mi, Cristofero!_)

In our chamber small to-night,
Fair as love's immortal glow,
Shines our silver censer-light--
(_Ay de mi, Cristofero_!)
What is this that holds thee fast
In old histories of the past?
Put the time-stained parchments by,
Men have sought where dead men lie
For the secret thou wouldst know--
All too long, Cristofero!




IV

PEDRO AND HIS ADMIRAL


Juan de la Cosa, captain of the _Santa Maria_, was prowling about the
beach of Gomera in a thoroughly dissatisfied frame of mind. His own
ship, the _Gallego_ before the Admiral re-christened her and made her
his flagship, was riding trim as a mallard within sight of his eye. She
would never have kept the fleet waiting in the Canaries for a little
thing like a broken rudder.