The New Land | Page 2

I can sleep."
In the shifting light of the ship's lantern, swinging from the mast above his head, the pilot saw Bernal, the ship's doctor, advancing toward him; a little dark man, who dragged one foot as he walked. He would have passed without speaking; but Alonzo, hungry for companionship, caught his arm.
"You are in high favor with Columbus," he began, "and he confides in you. Tell me, is he still determined to go on if the next few days do not bring us to land?"
The ship's doctor nodded almost sullenly, yet there was pride in his voice when he spoke. "The admiral will not turn back. Not though the very boards of our three vessels mutiny and refuse him obedience. He will go on!"
"It is madness. It is already seventy days since we left our fair land of Spain, and----"
Bernal interrupted him with a mocking laugh. "'Our fair land of Spain'," he sneered, "is not the land of the Jew nor have we found it fair." But before he could speak further, the other clapped a warning hand over his mouth.
"Hush!" exclaimed the little pilot, "Hush! We may be overheard, and, though our admiral is gentle to the sons of Israel, it might fare ill with us if the crew were to learn that there were 'secret Jews' on board. See, some one is coming----. Be silent," and he pointed to one who moved slowly toward them.
But Bernal laughed. "It is only Luis de Torres, the interpreter, one of our own people. Shalom Aleicha," he addressed himself to the newcomer, who answered, "Aleichem Shalom," but softly, glancing over his shoulder as he did so.
"Even in the midst of the Sea of Darkness you fear to use our holy tongue," taunted the physician. "We are no longer in Spain where the very walls of our houses had ears to hear our Shema and tongues to betray us to the officers of the Inquisition when we failed to come to their cursed masses." His face twisted with rage as he pointed to his useless foot. "In Valencia I was denounced to the Inquisition, tortured almost unto death. But I escaped with my life; and now instead of spending my last days in peace in the land of my fathers I have come on this mad voyage across a sea without shore." He laughed harshly. "Yet even on these endless waves, I am safer than in the pleasant land of Spain."
Luis de Torres, who had stood leaning over the vessel's side, turned toward the speaker, his sensitive face showing pale and grave in the light of the swaying lantern. "Ah, Bernal," he said sadly, "has not the whole world become a great sea of endless waves for the unhappy children of Israel?" He shuddered slightly and drew his rich cloak more tightly about him. "I am a strong man; but I sicken and grow faint when I think of the tens of thousands of our brethren we saw scourged from the land of Spain even as we embarked and our three vessels were about to leave the port."
"Truly," Alonzo muttered, "truly, even a strong man may wish to forget what our eyes have seen. Night after night as I stand at my wheel I can see them, old men and little children and women with their babes. Where will they find rest?"
"There is no rest for Israel." It was Bernal who spoke in his sullen passion. "'Twas the ninth of Ab when our brethren were driven forth--the ninth of Ab; the day on which our Temple fell. Then we were scattered beneath the sky, but we thought at last that in the land of Spain we had found a refuge. But there is no refuge for Israel, no rest for Him until death."
The sad eyes of Luis de Torres glowed with a strange light. "Nay, friend," he corrected gently, "the God of Israel will not forget His children forever. Who knows that this new route to India, of which the admiral dreams, may not lead us to a new land, an undiscovered place where no Jew will suffer for his faith. But, O God!" he cried with sudden pain, "We have waited so long, and still our people wander and are tossed to and fro, as we are tossed about by the waves of this unknown sea. Must each century bring its new Tisha B'ab, must we indeed suffer forever? Where is rest for us? What land will give us refuge?"
He raised his face to the brightening sky, his hands tearing at the gold chain about his throat. No one spoke for a moment, nor even moved until Alonzo turned back to his wheel, his eyes bright with strange tears. A cry burst from him; a cry of unbelieving joy.
"Land! Land!" and he