He had been shown the letters from Bobadilla,
and he who was not lengthy in speech had spoken an hour
upon them. His word rang gold; Christ gave it, he said,
that his truth was believed. Don Francisco de Bobadilla
would quit Hispaniola--though not in chains.
Fray Juan Perez stirred the fire. Upon the table stood a
flask of wine and a dish of figs. We were comfortable in
La Rabida.
Days passed, weeks passed, time passed. Word from
the Admiral, word of the Admiral, came not infrequently
to white La Rabida. He himself, in his own person, stood
in bright favor, the Queen treasuring him, loving to talk
with him, the Court following her, the King at worst only
a cool friend. But his affairs of office, Fray Juan Perez
and I gathered, sitting solicitous at La Rabida, were not in
so fair a posture. He and his household did not lack.
Monies were paid him, though not in full his tithe of all
gains from his finding. What never shook was his title of
The Admiral. But they seemed, the Sovereigns, or at least
King Ferdinand, to look through "Viceroy" as though it
were a shade. And in Hispaniola, though charged, reproved,
threatened, still stayed Bobadilla in the guise of Governor!
"They cannot leave him there," I said. "If the Colombos
are not men for the place, what then is Bobadilla?"
Fray Juan Perez stirred the fire.
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