The Nina harkened and turned, but the Pinta.
at some distance seemed deaf and blind. Night fell while
still we signaled. We were now for Cuba, and the wind
directly behind us, but yet as long as we could see, the Pinta
chose not to turn. We set lights for signals, but her light
fell farther and farther astern. She was a swifter sailer
than we; there was no reason for that increasing distance.
We lay to, the _Nina_ beside us. Ere long we wholly lost
the Pinta's light. Night passed. When morning broke
Captain Martin Alonso Pinzon and the Pinta were gone.
The sea, though rough, was not too perilous, and never
a signal of distress had been seen nor heard.
"Lost? Is the Pinta lost?"
"Lost! No!--But, yes. Willfully lost!"
It was Roderigo Sanchez who knew not much of the
sea who asked, and the Admiral answered. But having
spoken it that once, he closed his strong lips and coming
down from deck said he would have breakfast. All that
day was guessing and talk enough upon the _Santa Maria_;
silent or slurred talk at last, for toward noon the Admiral
gave sharp order that the Pinta should be left out of
conversation. Captain Martin Pinzon was an able seaman.
Perhaps something (he reminded us of the rudder before
the Canaries) had gone wrong. Captain Pinzon may have
thought the island was the nearer land, or he may have
returned to Cuba, but more to the north than were we.
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