d far below the surface, as if somehow he could
look on all this without risking anything. He knew that he was merely a
defense mechanism, to ward off fear: for, it wasn't true. If Martin
Pinzon were hurt, _he_ would be hurt.

He hurled the man from his back. Nina screamed as a cutlass flashed in
the sun. Martin-Danny ducked, felt the blade whizz by overhead.

"Jump!" Martin-Danny cried.

"But I can't swim!"

"I can. I'll save you." It was Danny again, completely Danny. He felt
himself arise to the surface, submerging Martin Pinzon. Because the
Spaniard probably couldn't swim at all, and if Danny made promises, it
was Danny who must fulfill them.

He squeezed Nina's hand. He went up on the side--and over. The water
seemed a very long way down. They hit it finally with a great splash.

Down they went and down, into the warm murky green depths. Down--and
finally up. Danny's head broke surface. He was only yards from the
skiff. He had never let go of Nina's hand, but now he did, getting a
lifeguard's hold on her. He struck out for the skiff.

* * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were aboard the Nina. "I command here,"
Danny told the crew. "Is that correct?"

"Aye, sir," said Don Hernan, the mate.

"Even if Columbus tells you different?"

"Columbus?" spat Don Hernan. "That drunkard is in command of the Santa
Maria, not the Nina. We follow Martin Pinzon here."

"Even if I give one set of orders and Columbus another?"

"Even then, my commander. Yes."

"Then we're sailing west," Danny cried. "Up anchor! Hurry."

"But I--" Nina began.

"Don't you see? He thinks I'm abducting you. Or he thinks I'm sailing
west with you to certain death. He will follow with the Santa Maria and
the Pinta, trying to rescue you. And we'll reach the Indies. Columbus
will sail across the Western Sea to save his daughter, but what's the
difference _why_ he'll sail. The important thing is, Queen Isabella gave
him the charter and the caravels and with them he's making history. You
see?"

"I ... I think so," Nina said doubtfully.

A heady wind sprang up. The square-rigged sails billowed. The Nina began
to surge forward--into the unknown West.

Tackle creaked aboard the nearby Santa Maria and Pinta. The two other
caravels came in pursuit. But they won't catch us, Martin knew. They
won't catch us until we reach--Hispaniola. And then, pursuit will be no
more. Then, it will no longer matter and we'll al