I laughed.
"Here beginneth the marvelous tale of this voyage! If all happens that all say may happen, not the Pope's library can hold the books!" The _Santa Maria_ was a good enough ship, though fifty men crowded it.
It was new and clean, a fair sailer, though not so swift as the Pinta.
We mariners settled ourselves in waist and forecastle.

The Admiral, Juan de la Cosa, the master, Roderigo Sanchez, Diego de Arana and Roderigo de Escobedo, Pedro Gutierrez, a private adventurer, the physician Bernardo Nunez and Fray Ignatio had great cabin and certain small sleeping cabins and poop deck.

In the forecastle almost all knew one another; all ran into kinships near or remote.

But the turn of character made the real grouping.

Pedro had his cluster and Sancho had his, and between swayed now to the one and now to the other a large group.