"The Admiral has gone down with all aboard," he reasoned to himself.
"Now, if my ship ever reaches Spain, why shouldn't I say that when
Columbus failed to find land seven hundred leagues west of the Canaries,
where he expected to find it, I persuaded him to accompany me still
farther, and led him to Cipango."

Martin kept nursing this plan of robbing the dead Admiral of glory,
until one morning he found himself off the Spanish coast just north of
the Portuguese border. Into the little port of Bayona he put, and wrote
a letter, and hired a courier to deliver it; that done, he sailed south
along Portugal for Palos, probably passing the mouth of the Tagus only a
few hours after Columbus, bound for the same port, had turned out into
the Atlantic. Martin Pinzon may thank his luck that the Nina started
home before him. Imagine his utter shame and confusion had _he_
been the first to enter Palos with his perverted news!

As it was, things were bad enough. He heard the Palos bells ringing, and
saw the people thronging along the shore to look at the wonderful little
boat that had traveled in such far waters; his heart sank. The Admiral
was home, and he, Martin Pinzon, _he_ had sent from Bayona to their
Majesties a letter in which were certain false statements. No wonder he
sneaked off of his ship in the dusk and wrapped his cape high around his
face and hurried to his house. No wonder he felt no happiness in seeing
his good wife again, and could only groan and groan.

Martin went to bed--his spirits were very low, and the stormy passage
had racked his old body as well; so he lay down; and the next day he
could not get up, nor the next; and when, in due time, a royal letter
came, thanking him for the aid he had given Columbus, but reproaching