Chapter II

On the arrival at Panama, Ruiz and Molina found Almagro and Father Luque and a council of war was called in the library of their financial backer, Espinosa, the alcalde mayor.

Molina arrived before the hour fixed to report in person to Teresa. She had been a girl of reserve, her high-strung, sensitive nature firmly held in check by a strong mentality, and her lover had called her cold. But to-night he watched her eyes kindle with tenderness and enthusiasm as he told the story of Pizarro and his men. And when he told of crossing the line with the handful who had volunteered, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his lips with unwonted fervor. Her exquisite body trembled against his own and with passion and tenderness he returned her kiss.

“My knight! My knight of beautiful chivalry!” she breathed.

“Hardly that, sweet,” he smiled. “There’s nothing about Francisco Pizarro to suggest tilting knights. He brings a man back to earth--to things stern and real; to things that mean life and death. But there’s more than gold lust in the hearts of the dozen men with him. They are the conquerors of a new world. They are the builders of empire. Men may call them mad, but theirs is the madness that makes history.”

“I am proud of you, my Alonso,” she interrupted. She studied a moment, gazing out the window at the open sea. Then, “I’m going back with you. I shall join his army when he marches.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“Nonsense, child. Your place is in the shelter of your brother’s home until I can take you to our own.”

“I go!” she stated fiercely. “I too feel the stir of a new world--”

“But you’re a woman--the woman of my many dreams. I’ll hear no such madness!”

“I’ve as much right to madness as any man. If good Queen Isabel rode beside Ferdinand into battle, surely I may act as page to my knight in his adventure.”

Molina laughed outright at her talk. The silly idea would pass. He chose to ignore it. He looked at her tenderly.

“And now, my Teresa, I confess. I fought the enterprise of Pizarro because to join him meant a long wait for you. My weakness shames me, but I may breathe it now--”

She watched him through tears and once more embraced him fiercely. He responded, and they stood in trembling ecstasy. And then through her tears she whispered:

“I shall _not_ be separated from you. I’m going.”

Once more he laughed at her whim and released her as he turned sharply at the clank of Almagro’s sword at the door. Bidding her farewell, he hastened to join Espinosa in welcome to Ruiz, Father Luque and Almagro.

The little man with one eye fairly danced as he walked. He was in high fettle. Francisco Pizarro had done what Almagro had urged him to do. He had hung on. But he had done more. He had made of his act a ceremony that fired the imagination.

“Sometimes,” Almagro confided to Molina, “I suspect and hate that man. But it’s joy to follow Pizarro. He _leads_!”

The conference fell to work without delay. The case was desperate, but Pizarro’s daring deed had aided it mightily. It was not a question of fighting the governor to the last ditch; the only problem was how to do it. At Father Luque’s suggestion they resolved to go at once to his house and find the official mind. They would fix no formal hearing to be packed with cowards. They would go at once and beard the lion in his den. Pizarro’s spirit reached even across intervening sea.

They were not long in finding the governor’s mind. His Excellency wore it on his sleeve and his sleeve was rolled up for the fight.

“You are wasting your breath,” he fairly shouted as they pressed about him. “I’ve sacrificed the last ship and the last man to Francisco Pizarro’s insane obstinacy. I need these ships and I need these men, and I need them here.”

“But Your Excellency must remember,” Father Luque interrupted, “that you were specifically instructed by the Crown, in taking office, to aid Pizarro’s enterprise.”

“Not specifically, _padre_,” Rios corrected, “but merely incidentally. I was specifically instructed to reorganize this colony in harmony with the ideals and principles of Spanish civilization. I was specifically instructed to bring the former governor, Pedrarias, to justice and put an end to his career. The old devil had money and influence enough to win in his trial. How much he paid into the pockets of the judges, I know not, but he was allowed to go free and unscathed. He was not only acquitted at his trial here, but he has so corrupted the council of Panama that they have given him a license to establish a slave market in the city under my very nose, where he is selling at public auction thousands of helpless natives of Nicaragua. To carry out effectively my royal commands I must equip an army, invade Nicaragua, arrest him and put a stop to his infamies. And I’ll not be hampered by madmen’s ambitions.”

“I approve Your Excellency’s intentions towards Pedrarias,” Father Luque suavely replied, “but we must not forget that Francisco Pizarro and his brave followers are soldiers of Castile. They are carrying the banners of Spain and the Cross of Christ. However mad their enterprise, it is for the glory of the Crown.”

Father Luque then paused, drew himself erect and added in solemn tones:

“I warn Your Excellency, Don Pedro de los Rios, that if you dare to leave Pizarro and his men to die on a lonely isle in the Southern Sea, I’ll see to it that you answer to the Court of Spain for this act!”

“Dare! _Dare_ did you say?” roared the governor.

“I have said it,” was the sober answer.

Rios mopped his brow and sank low in his chair, his face a black mask of helpless rage. Molina, Almagro, and Ruiz pressed him in the name of God and King for a ship of rescue.

He held a stubborn silence and allowed his tormentors to exhaust their arguments before he spoke. He shot a fiery glance at Father Luque.

“The only concession I will make to your clamor,” he growled at last, “is to allow you to equip, at your own expense, a single ship of rescue, with barely hands enough to work her sails. I’ll give positive orders to Francisco Pizarro to report to me in Panama within six months.”

Molina heard the verdict with deep emotion. It was given with ugly reluctance. He drew the group of his associates into a hurried conference outside the governor’s house.

“There is not a moment to be lost, my friends. He may change his mind to-morrow.”

“I agree with you,” Espinosa answered. “The money is ready. We must build a small vessel, equip her with stores and a supply of arms and ammunition and start at the earliest possible moment.”

* * * * *

At last the little ship tugged at her anchor ready for the rescue. Ruiz, her pilot, was in high spirits.

“Our captain will be heartsick for a moment,” he whispered to Molina, “at this poor response to his challenge of service for the King, but he will find a way to win.”

Ruiz’s sharp voice rang out in command to his sailors to lift the anchor. The chains began to rattle into the locker when Molina saw to his amazement a canoe swing alongside. A package of clothing was flung on deck and in a moment he confronted a slender figure in a dark cloak. Behind the upheld folds the white teeth of Teresa flashed a smile.

“I told you, my Alonso, that I would go!”

The cavalier lifted his hand and Ruiz ordered the anchor dropped.

“And I told you, sweet, that it could not be.”

For half an hour the quarrel raged. At the end Molina lifted Teresa in his arms, lowered her into the canoe and ordered the oarsmen to the landing. At the door of her brother’s house, he opened his arms for their farewell.

The girl’s figure stiffened.

“So, I am your slave to be ordered about at your will. We shall see.”

“Your blessing, sweet; the ship is ready.”

Again he opened his arms, but she only stormed in anger, and turned to enter the house.

“Go if you will,” she snapped, “and the devil go with you. You will not dare speak to me again!”

The red slowly mounted the young cavalier’s face. He turned on his heel and took three quick steps before he felt her arms about his neck.

“Forgive, my Alonso, I love you. I love you more than life. This parting is as death. Promise that my image only shall be in your heart until we meet again.”

“I promise, my own.”

He pressed her in a long tender embrace, kissed her lips and ran to the water’s edge.