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Neural Network Programming
with Java
Fábio M. Soares
Alan M.F. Souza
BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
Neural Network Programming with Java
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in
critical articles or reviews.
Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the accuracy
of the information presented. However, the information contained in this book is
sold without warranty, either express or implied. Neither the authors, nor Packt
Publishing, and its dealers and distributors will be held liable for any damages
caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by this book.
Packt Publishing has endeavored to provide trademark information about all of the
companies and products mentioned in this book by the appropriate use of capitals.
However, Packt Publishing cannot guarantee the accuracy of this information.
ISBN 978-1-78588-090-2
www.packtpub.com
Credits
Copy Editor
Tani Kothari
About the Authors
Fábio M. Soares holds a master's degree in applied computing from UFPA and
is currently a PhD candidate at the same university. He has been designing neural
network solutions since 2004 and has developed applications with this technique in
several fields, ranging from telecommunications to chemistry process modeling, and
his research topics cover supervised learning for data-driven modeling.
He is also self-employed, offering services such as IT infrastructure management as
well as database administration to a number of small- and medium-sized companies
in northern Brazil. In the past, he has worked for big companies such as Albras, one
of the most important aluminium smelters in the world, and Eletronorte, a great
power supplier in Brazil. He also has experience as a lecturer, having worked at the
Federal Rural University of Amazon and as a Faculty of Castanhal, both in the state
of Pará, teaching subjects involving programming and artificial intelligence.
He has published a number of works, many of them available in English, all
including the topics of artificial intelligence applied to some problem. His
publications include conference proceedings, such as the TMS (The Minerals Metals
and Materials Society), Light Metals and the Intelligent Data Engineering and
Automated Learning. He has also has published two book chapters for Intech.
Since I was a kid, I thought about writing a book. So, this book is a
dream come true and the result of hard work. I'd like to thank God
for giving me this opportunity. I'd also like to thank my father, Célio,
my mother, Socorro, my sister, Alyne, and my amazing wife, Tayná,
for understanding my absences and worries at various moments. I
am grateful to all the members of my family and friends for always
supporting me in difficult times and wishing for my success. I'd like
to thank all the professors who passed through my life, especially
Prof. Roberto Limão for introducing me the very first neural network
concept. I must register my gratitude to Fábio Soares for this great
partnership and friendship. Finally, I must appreciate the tireless
team at Packt Publishing for the invitation and for helping us in the
production process as a whole.
About the Reviewer
Saeed Afzal, also known as Smac Afzal, is a professional software engineer and
technology enthusiast based in Pakistan. He specializes in solution architecture and
the implementation of scalable high-performance applications.
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[i]
Table of Contents
[ ii ]
Table of Contents
[ iii ]
Table of Contents
[ iv ]
Table of Contents
[v]
Preface
The life of a programmer can be described as a continual never-ending learning
pathway. A programmer always faces challenges regarding new technology or new
approaches. Generally, during our lives, although we become used to repeated
things, we are always subjected to learn something new. The process of learning is
one of the most interesting topics in science, and there are a number of attempts to
describe or reproduce the human learning process.
The writing of this book was guided by the challenge of facing new content and
then mastering it. While the name neural networks may appear strange or even give
an idea that this book is about neurology, we strived to simplify these nuances by
focusing on your reasons for deciding to purchase this book. We intended to build
a framework that shows you that neural networks are actually simple and easy to
understand, and absolutely no prior knowledge on this topic is required to fully
understand the concepts we present here.
So, we encourage you to explore the content of this book to the fullest, beholding
the power of neural networks when confronting big problems but always with the
point of view of a beginner. Every concept addressed in this book is explained in easy
language, and also with a technical background. Our mission in this book is to give
you an insight into intelligent applications that can be written using a simple language.
Finally, we would like to thank all those who directly or indirectly have contributed
to this book and supported us from the very beginning, right from the Federal
University of Pará, which is the university that we graduated from, to the data and
component providers INMET (Brazilian Institute of Meteorology), Proben1, and
JFreeCharts. We want to give special thanks to our advisor Prof. Roberto Limão, who
introduced us to the subject of neural networks and coauthored many papers with
us in this field. We also acknowledge the work performed by several authors cited
in the references, which gave us a broader vision on neural networks and insights on
how to adapt them to the Java language in a didactic way.
[ vii ]
Preface
We welcome you to have a very pleasurable reading experience and you are
encouraged to download the source code and follow the examples presented
in this book.
Chapter 2, How Neural Networks Learn, covers the learning process of neural networks
and shows how data is used to that end. The complete structure and design of a
learning algorithm is presented here.
Chapter 3, Handling Perceptrons, covers the use of perceptrons, which are one of the
most commonly used neural network architectures. We present a neural network
structure containing layers of neurons and show how they can learn by data in
basic problems.
Chapter 6, Classifying Disease Diagnostics, covers another useful task neural networks
are very good at—classification. In this chapter, you will be presented with a very
didactic but interesting application for disease diagnosis.
Chapter 7, Clustering Customer Profiles, talks about how neural networks are able to
find patterns in data, and a common application is to group customers that share the
same properties of buying.
Chapter 8, Pattern Recognition (OCR Case), talks about a very interesting and amazing
capability of recognizing patterns, including optical character recognition, and this
chapter explores how this can be done with neural networks in the Java language.
[ viii ]
Preface
Conventions
In this book, you will find a number of text styles that distinguish between different
kinds of information. Here are some examples of these styles and an explanation of
their meaning.
Code words in text, database table names, folder names, filenames, file
extensions, pathnames, dummy URLs, user input, and Twitter handles are shown
as follows: "In Java projects, the calculation of these values is done through the
Classification class."
[ ix ]
Preface
Reader feedback
Feedback from our readers is always welcome. Let us know what you think about
this book—what you liked or disliked. Reader feedback is important for us as it helps
us develop titles that you will really get the most out of.
If there is a topic that you have expertise in and you are interested in either writing
or contributing to a book, see our author guide at www.packtpub.com/authors.
Customer support
Now that you are the proud owner of a Packt book, we have a number of things to
help you to get the most from your purchase.
Errata
Although we have taken every care to ensure the accuracy of our content, mistakes
do happen. If you find a mistake in one of our books—maybe a mistake in the text or
the code—we would be grateful if you could report this to us. By doing so, you can
save other readers from frustration and help us improve subsequent versions of this
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link, and entering the details of your errata. Once your errata are verified, your
submission will be accepted and the errata will be uploaded to our website or added
to any list of existing errata under the Errata section of that title.
[x]
Preface
Piracy
Piracy of copyrighted material on the Internet is an ongoing problem across all
media. At Packt, we take the protection of our copyright and licenses very seriously.
If you come across any illegal copies of our works in any form on the Internet, please
provide us with the location address or website name immediately so that we can
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We appreciate your help in protecting our authors and our ability to bring you
valuable content.
Questions
If you have a problem with any aspect of this book, you can contact us at
[email protected], and we will do our best to address the problem.
[ xi ]
Getting Started with
Neural Networks
In this chapter, we will introduce neural networks and what they are designed for.
This chapter serves as a foundation layer for the subsequent chapters, while
it presents the basic concepts for neural networks. In this chapter, we will cover
the following:
• Artificial Neurons
• Weights and Biases
• Activation Functions
• Layers of Neurons
• Neural Network Implementation in Java
[1]
Getting Started with Neural Networks
[2]
Chapter 1
On the basis of this fact, McCulloch and Pits designed a simple model for a
single neuron, initially to simulate the human vision. The available calculators or
computers at that time were very rare but capable of dealing with mathematical
operations quite well; on the other hand, even today tasks such as vision and sound
recognition are not easily programmed without the use of special frameworks, as
opposed to the mathematical operations and functions. Nevertheless, the human
brain can perform these latter tasks more efficiently than the first ones, and this fact
really instigates scientists and researchers.
[3]
Getting Started with Neural Networks
So, the artificial neuron has a similar structure. It contains a nucleus (processing
unit), several dendrites (analogous to inputs), and one axon (analogous to output), as
shown in the following figure:
The links between neurons form the so-called neural network, analogous to the
synapses in the natural structure.
[4]
Chapter 1
• Sigmoid
• Hyperbolic tangent
• Hard limiting threshold
• Purely linear
[5]
Getting Started with Neural Networks
The equations and charts associated with these functions are shown in the
following table:
Sigmoid
Hyperbolic
tangent
Hard
limiting
threshold
Linear
[6]
Chapter 1
Just like the inputs, biases also have an associated weight. This feature helps in the
neural network knowledge representation as a more purely nonlinear system.
Neural networks can be composed of several linked layers, forming the so-called
multilayer networks. The neural layers can be basically divided into three classes:
• Input layer
• Hidden layer
• Output layer
[7]
Getting Started with Neural Networks
• Neuron connections
°° Monolayer networks
°° Multilayer networks
• Signal flow
°° Feedforward networks
°° Feedback networks
Monolayer networks
In this architecture, all neurons are laid out in the same level, forming one single
layer, as shown in the following figure:
[8]
Random documents with unrelated
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CHAPTER XVI.
I AM 'DON ALONZO.'
It was a splendid evening one day towards the end of the year 1503,
when a tall, plainly-attired, handsome youth drew near the home of a
Spanish colonist to whom he had notes of introduction. He had
walked out to it from San Domingo, a distance of some five miles,
and now stood still to survey the scene, his hand resting on a dog's
head the while that had accompanied him.
"It is a glorious place, old Don," he muttered in a tone of
considerable satisfaction, although it betokened great surprise as
well.
And a glorious place it was, and most especially beautiful now that
the long, low houses of stone and earth, the waving palms, and all
the other luxuriance of that southern clime, were bathed in the
golden glory of a southern sunset. In a cushioned reclining chair,
placed in a shady spot of the broad verandah, lounged a young man,
handsome, but for a Spaniard coarse-featured and rather thick-set.
However, all defects of person were thrown into the background by a
sumptuousness of attire that fairly startled the youth as he at length
approached, and delivered his letters.
"And you are the son of Master Pedro, the spice-dealer of El Cuevo!"
he breathed forth at last.
The words of that ejaculation were common-place enough, but the
tone in which they were uttered, and the look with which they were
accompanied, made them so inexpressibly gratifying, and at the
same time comical, to the man to whom they were addressed, that
he burst into a loud, long laugh before vouchsafing them any other
answer.
"Yes, yes," he said at last, recovering himself with an easy
nonchalance. "Yes, yes, youngster, I do not mind confessing to you,
since you know the fact before my confession, that the worthy old
gentleman yonder, with his frugal fare, and his better stuff cloak for
holidays, is my father, and a rare good old miser he is, to save the
maravedis for my spending. But mind ye, that is between you and
me and Saint Peter."
A wondering gaze from a great pair of thoughtful, brilliant eyes was
the questioning reply to this intimation. "And for the rest of the
world," asked the owner of the eyes after a short pause, "who is your
father for the rest of the world?"
Another laugh greeted this query.
"Why, for the rest of the world, being what you have found me, Don
Alonzo de Loyala, my father is, like thine own, some long-deceased
grandee of Spain, who neglected his duty towards his son as
regarded the due endowment of riches to maintain my rank in mine
own land."
As this mocking speech ended, Montoro de Diego's cheeks flushed
angrily, and he exclaimed—
"Do you then imply that my claims to noble birth are thus also
assumed? By St.—"
"Nay then, nay," good-humouredly interrupted the other. "In these
latitudes it is not well for health to heat thyself for nought. Keep thy
passion for the red rascals, who are so lazy that they'll die rather
than live and work. I imply nothing to thy detriment. Wert thou placed
as I am, then wouldst thou also have a wealthy father at thy back, to
help thee to maintain that rank out here it should pleasure thee to
claim. Meantime, I do no more than half of those around me, and
with better right; for I am no released felon, and I deal honestly by
those I trade with. I will deal honestly with you. Twice have I had
advices from my father, and from good master Sancho, that I should
try to secure you for a companion and aid, should you elect to
remain here on the Admiral's return to Spain. And I like you at first
sight well enough to be willing to take their advice. Will you stay with
me then, or shall I help you to find friends elsewhere?"
Montoro looked at the man from head to foot slowly and earnestly,
as he lounged there before him, so great a contrast to himself, and
then as slowly and earnestly said—
"I agree to stay—for a time."
"Umph!" muttered the self-styled Don Alonzo, somewhat taken
aback in his turn. "Umph! my noble youngster, methinks from your air
you suppose the obligation to be rather more mutual than I esteem it.
You are a beggar and friendless, and I—am not."
However, Montoro was not now so friendless as his new colleague
assumed. Had he returned to Spain, even there he might now have
been found some sort of employment, and out in the Colony the
spirited young adventurer, with a pair of hands both able and willing
to work, could have easily found some more indolent seeker after
wealth willing to go into partnership with him. But Rachel de Diego
was sheltered under the roof of the spice-merchant, and her son had
a hidden eagerness that he might be able to find shelter under the
roof of the spice-merchant's son. It was to that motive that 'Don
Alonzo' owed the easy settlement of his agreement with his new
young partner, and not, as he imagined, to the promising air of
luxurious comfort in his surroundings. That offered more allurements
to a third party to the affair.
Don threatened for a few minutes to upset the amiable arrangements
between his real owner and his self-adopted master, for poor Don
had very faint notions of the rights of property and ownership, and
Don was thirsty and Don was hungry, and, moreover, Don was as
fond of grapes as any Christian Don, real or pretended, to be found
in or out of Spain. All of a sudden, while Montoro was gazing
thoughtfully out at the silver line of distant sea, and Don Alonzo was
muttering to himself the remark mentioned above, tired Don caught
sight of a piled-up dish of grapes on a table in the verandah. He
licked his dry lips, and went on eyeing them. Then he licked his dry
lips again, and ventured upon a small whine. That sound recalled
Montoro's wandering wits so far that he turned round and nodded to
his four-footed friend, and said dreamily—
"Yes, yes. All right, good old Don."
That was enough. Don was in that state of longing that a very small
amount of encouragement was enough to induce him to help himself
to the desired feast, and before either of his companions knew well
what he was about, he had bounded up to the table, scrunched up
one juicy, deliciously refreshing bunch of grapes, and had a second
in his mouth about to be treated in the same way. But "there's many
a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," and in this instance there proved to
be a slip 'twixt the lip and the throat.
Don Alonzo quickly became aware of what was going on, and,
seizing a heavy bottle, he flung it with full force angrily at the dog;
and it hit, not the dog, but the dog's champion, happily only a touch,
and then fell crashing on the floor of the verandah.
The next instant Montoro's first dash forward to save the dog was
followed by a second to save Don Alonzo; for the huge animal had
made a furious spring at his antagonist, accompanied by a growl that
gave full promise of his intentions. Montoro's most resolute and stern
command was needed before the hound was brought to crouch
down by his side, with red-lit eyes still glaring at his unrecognized
owner.
"That brute shall be shot before he's an hour older," came the surly
declaration at last, as Montoro knelt on the stone pavement soothing
the animal back into good temper. At the sharp announcement he
looked up quickly.
"Then you shall shoot him through me," he said passionately, "as
you struck me just now instead of him. He is my only friend out here,
and we will live or die together."
Don Alonzo shook himself irritably. He was good-hearted enough if
over-indulgent parents in the first instance, and superabundant good
fortune since, had not rather spoilt him. Besides, four years' sojourn
on the island of Hispaniola had not tended to teach regard for any
life but his own; that he esteemed at quite a high enough rate, and
he answered Montoro now with angry remonstrance—
"It is all very fine to talk heroics, youngster; but thinkest thou that I
am going to be browbeaten into keeping my own dog, to stand in
danger of being mauled by it any time its tempers up, as if I were a
wretched native!"
Montoro stood up and folded his arms.
"Neither you nor any other man, Indian or European, shall suffer
from Doffs teeth. Or, if perchance that sounds too proud a boast, for
the first human being that Don injures he shall die. He shall be as a
lamb to you now—see—hold out your hand."
With some scarcely-disguised trepidation Alonzo obeyed. Don cast a
beseeching glance of remonstrance at his friend; but instead of any
encouragement to rejection of the offered fellowship, he got a grave
shake of the head; and with a very crestfallen aspect he rose,
walked dolefully along the verandah, and put his paw into the
outstretched hand, and looked up with mute appeal for forgiveness.
Don Alonzo was wise enough to seal the new compact with a freely-
generous gift of more of the coveted grapes. If Montoro for Don, and
Don for himself, would engage that Don Alonzo should never feel the
sharpness of that animal's teeth, his owner was only too willing that it
should live. For it was quite the fashion now to use these powerful
dogs out in the new world, not only as terrible aids in battle against
the poor, half-defenceless Indians, but also to hunt down the
miserable, wholly-defenceless slaves who sometimes dared to run
away to die in peace in their native forests, instead of beneath the
short-sighted, as well as brutal, taskmaster's lash.
The young Diego had declared that Don should never be so
employed, but that declaration Don Alonzo comfortably decided in
his own mind was all nonsense. He himself had had qualms about
the treatment of the natives when he first came out, but he had long
since got rid of all such inconvenient scruples; and so of course
would this new arrival get speedily rid of his. Every one did, with the
exception of that impracticable idiot of a neighbour of his, that young
fellow Las Casas, who had come out from Spain with his head so full
of theories and bookish ideas that he had no room in it for common
sense.
CHAPTER XVII.
GOOD OLD DON.
Time passed on. In Spain good Queen Isabella died, and two years
later the poor, neglected noble-hearted, pious old Admiral,
Christopher Columbus, recommending himself to God, and his two
sons, Diego and Ferdinand, to King Ferdinand's tardy justice and
each other's brotherly love, also bade a final farewell to an ungrateful
world.
And in Hispaniola also time passed on. Many there grieved over the
Admiral when he was dead, who had tormented him in every
possible way when living,—that is the way with poor, stupid human
nature. But he had one true mourner, who had loved and served him
with all his heart during the year that they were together, and whose
memory for those he cared for was not a short one. Montoro de
Diego, amidst his many new interests, felt a very keen pang of
sorrow when the news was brought out to the island, towards the
end of the year 1506, of the loss the world had sustained.
"Ah! Señor Las Casas," he sighed one morning, some months later;
"ah! then, if he had lived, and the queen, you might then have had
hope even yet to work some good for these wretched, rightful
owners of these lands. But now—"
"Ay, indeed!" exclaimed Bartholomew Las Casas with heaving chest,
as he rose and strode hastily up and down his terrace. "You may well
pause upon that but now, Diego. For now one might more wisely
waste breath in calling upon wolves and wild cats to cease from
fierceness, than in pleading with one's fellow-men for mercy, justice,
or compassion. 'Give us yourselves,' is the fierce cry that echoes all
around us. 'Give us yourselves, your wives and daughters, for our
humble slaves; give us your gold, your lands, all you hold most
valuable; resign your wills, your faith, your souls into our keeping,
and we will give you leave to live as long as unremitting toil and
cruelty will let you. But resist us, fight for your country or your liberty,
contradict our lightest caprice, and we will shoot you down as though
you were so many rabbits, we will hunt you to death with our dogs as
though you were vermin or wild beasts.'"
The young man came to a sudden stop, with a face glowing with
generous indignation, and literally panting for breath with his burst of
righteous wrath. Montoro's cheeks were flushed with sympathy as he
said in quick reply—
"It is so. I can but too terribly vouch for the truth of your bitter
accusation. But, Señor, your brethren the priests, can they not—"
Las Casas turned upon him with sharp interruption.
"Can they not help me, you would ask? Ay, verily," with indignant
scorn; "well indeed do they help the cause I have at heart! This is
one of the proclamations allowed by some of those same brethren
the priests—'Your souls are doomed to eternal perdition, your bodies
belong to those who have conquered your soil!' Much good my
brethren the priests will do!"
There was a short silence, and then he continued more calmly, and
laying his hand upon a pile of papers, "But after all, Diego, I do hope
to work some good for the poor natives. I have written out a strong
case for them, and I am intending to return to Spain shortly, there to
plead their cause myself."
"And you shall have my testimony, if you will," said Montoro eagerly.
"For it is our Don Alonzo's will that I should take a journey to Spain
this coming season, in charge of a somewhat richer freight than
usual. And if you start not immediately we may go together."
"And Don?" said Las Casas, in smiling interrogation.
"Ay, truly," was the laughing answer, although something of a blush
accompanied it. "But in faith," he added the next moment, "it is not
only for love of the animal that I have it for my constant companion.
Since I have discovered the horrible use to which its fellows are put,
I live in fear of a coming day when I may regret having saved its life."
"Then," continued his friend, "you will leave it behind you in Spain
perchance, when you return hither?"
"That is so long to look ahead," said Montoro, feeling not a little glad
that he was not called upon for an immediate decision.
When it really came to the point he did what he thought much better
than leaving Don behind in El Cuevo. He got Master Pedro to
transfer all property in it to himself. His services to the old spice-
dealer and his son had well merited so much of a reward. And as for
Don, he deserved not only a good master, but almost as many
bunches of grapes besides as he chose to eat, when, a couple of
years later, he was the means of saving Montoro's life and a bag full
of gold-dust to the value of many thousand pesos.
Diego's first return journey to Spain proved so successful, owing to
his scrupulous honesty and intelligence, that Don Alonzo speedily
sent him on a second, and others also most eagerly availed
themselves of so upright a messenger to transmit their golden
gleanings to their own country.
But, as it happened, with Diego there voyaged also to Spain three
ne'er-do-wells. They had gambled away all their slaves, all their
grants of land, all their gathered-up spoils, and then, having finally
gambled away all their future prospects of wealth in Hispaniola, the
miscreants, as mean as they were bad, slipped away from the island
and their creditors on the first ship back to Spain.
"And mind ye," muttered one of the number to his companions one
evening, as they drew near the end of their two months' voyage,
—"mind ye, if we follow that insolent, set-up fellow Diego a day or
two's journey up the country after landing, we shall not be losing
time, neither shall we have cause to regret having left Hispaniola in
his company."
"How so?" questioned one of the two eager listeners doubtfully. "My
child yonder, little Bautista, told me when I questioned him some
days ago anent Diego's gold, that the bags were to be sent by other
hands to Madrid."
"And you credit the tale!" exclaimed the first speaker scornfully.
"You'll believe next that the Garden of Paradise has been found."
"And so I will," was the retort, "when the news is given me by
Montoro de Diego. He would not lie to save his life, and least of all
would he lie to a child."
"By all the saints," sneered the third of the group, "but Don Diego
hath a warm advocate in you! Doubtless it were useless to expect
you to touch his gold, even though it lay by the wayside to be picked
up."
"Doubtless under those circumstances," was the sharp reply, "there
should be little left for you to snatch. All the same, he hath shown
kindness to my boy, and he tells him nought but truth."
"Well, well," said Almado, the first speaker, more softly, "there is no
need that we should wrangle over the fellow's virtues, they sicken
me forsooth. Ne'er the less, he shall be a very saint if you will, so we
do but get his merchandise. As for the gold that is to go to Madrid,
that is but that small part, of what he carries, which is for the king's
coffers. Of that I am well assured. So you see thy little son yonder
hath been told the truth indeed, but only in part, and maybe to
mislead us."
"Umph," muttered Bautista's father, also more quietly. "That may well
be."
"Ay," agreed the third of the company, "that may well be."
And for the next few hours they all redoubled their efforts to be on
good terms with Don. They flattered themselves, indeed, that he
regarded them quite in the light of friends, for Don, like most very
strong creatures, whether going on two legs or four, never troubled
himself to show uncalled-for fierceness. As long as no one interfered
with him or his master, and his master gave him no orders to
interfere with others, he maintained the grave indifference of manner
worthy of a highborn Spaniard. But woe betide those who should
presume upon this calmness.
Arrived at Cadiz, Montoro delivered up the royal revenue to the
authorized messengers awaiting it, and then he and his dog and his
bags set out on their journey up the country, in company with worthy
Master Sancho, who had come to meet him, and two or three other
traders from the interior.
"Farewell, my little Bautista," said Montoro; "I shall pray for our future
meeting."
"Nay," said the child hurriedly, and with a frightened look round, "do
not that, Señor. I love you, you have been good to me, and so I pray
the Virgin to grant we may not meet again."
Montoro opened his eyes wide.
"How so, little man? Love me, and yet pray that we may not again
cross each other's paths? How is that, tell me?"
But the boy shook his head, and began to tremble violently.
"Do not ask me," he muttered with white lips; "they will kill me. Only
keep away from us. They do not know I have heard——"
"Ha!" exclaimed Montoro, a look of intelligence now taking the place
of bewilderment. Then he stooped and kissed the child's forehead,
as he said in low tones, "Blessings on thee for thy true heart, my little
lad, and my thanks. May the Lord have thee in His keeping, and
guard thy hands from sin."
And so they parted, each, as poor little Bautista fondly thought, to go
widely different ways, but in reality to take two routes leading to the
same goal.
For the first two days' journey inland the party to which Montoro
joined himself was a particularly strong one, too strong for the three
gamblers to care to meddle with; accordingly they withdrew
themselves from notice, until the travelling company was reduced to
Montoro himself, Master Sancho and his thick-headed attendant,
and a couple of poor-spirited merchants, who would have rather
hidden themselves in their bales at the appearance of danger, than
tried to defend them. But then—there was Don.
The third day was drawing to a close, when Diego and his
companions reached a wretched little inn, the worst on their route,
and with considerable grumbling on the part of comfort-loving Master
Sancho, they put up there for the night. To make matters worse, the
amount of available accommodation was even less than usual, for
another party of travellers had arrived before them, and taken the
chief and largest room.
However, there was no help for it. Master Sancho had to make the
best of a bad bargain, and as nothing would induce him to share a
room with Don, and nothing would induce Montoro to dispense with
Don's company as a guardian under present circumstances, he and
the dog had one room, and the worthy burgess of El Cuevo and the
two merchants from Saragossa had to crowd into the other.
"One night," explained Master Sancho to his companions, "that
young rascal I've taken a fancy to, persuaded me to share a sleeping
apartment with him and that great brute, and in the night I snored,—
I'm given to snore,—and the creature didn't approve, and woke me
up with a sounding thump of its great paw. And there, behold! it
stood reared up over me, with glaring eyes and a growling mouth. I
warrant you, I prayed in one minute to more saints in the calendar
than I've prayed to in many a long year before."
"Doubtless," assented one of the merchants with paling cheeks. "I
have ever thought it a fearful great beast, and unsafe. But hearken!
Methinks it is now quarrelling even with its own master. Ah!" with
startled breathlessness—"it is shot."
Then there was a sudden rushing all over the inn. Screams, shrieks,
shouts, slamming of doors, and above all, the continuous roar of
Don's deep growling bark.
At length men and lights were gathered in Montoro's room, and there
stood Montoro holding in a firm grip one of the smugglers. But the
hero of the fray, and the conqueror, was grand old Don standing with
one great fore-paw on the breast of one robber, the other fore-paw
on the breast of Bautista's father, who lay weltering in his blood, shot
by the other of his comrades in the attempt to shoot the dog.
"But my child, my little son," murmured the wretched, dying man.
"I will guard and care for him," said Montoro huskily.
He had been rescued from misery himself once, now he was the
rescuer.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DEATH FOR DON.
It was the early part of the year 1511, when Montoro, become now
quite an experienced islander and man of business, left Don
Alonzo's place, Palmyra, one morning for the neighbouring town of
San Domingo. The object of the visit was to arrange some important
matters with certain foreign merchants, who had lately arrived with
tempting offers to the planters for the produce of their estates.
"And don't hurry thyself," said Don Alonzo with unusual
consideration. "Take thy pleasure for a few days when thou art in the
town, for verily this dog's hole of a place is dull enough to make a
man long to shuffle off life with a native's readiness."
"If those same natives should get the upper-hand," answered
Montoro drily, "I doubt not they would help you. Meantime, I will trust
to find you still in the flesh, and well, when I return, and so—adios."
"And for you, fair journeyings and good bargains," said the indolent
superior, as he lay lounging in his low chair sipping a cool lime-juice
beverage. Little enough of the work he did himself towards
accumulating his own wealth.
But, lazy and self-indulgent as he was, it had not escaped Montoro
that there was a certain scarcely-suppressed eagerness, and barely-
hidden hope of some sort, underlying his present declared wishes for
his subordinate's comfort. As Montoro left the verandah and passed
through the house he called to his rescued protégé, who had proved
useful enough to secure himself a home beneath Don Alonzo's roof.
No work had seemed to come amiss to him, excepting that of aid to
the overseers in the gold mines, in which he had been recently
employed. But the brutal task-masters had just sent the boy back,
saying that he was no good to them whatever, worse than no good
indeed, for he pitied the rascally workers instead of flogging them.
Bautista came readily enough when he heard his beloved Señor
Diego's voice.
"Am I to go with you, my Señor?" he exclaimed beseechingly. "Ah!
but I will be to you eyes and hands and feet, if I may."
"I prefer to use my own, thank you," answered Montoro smiling, as
he patted the boy's head. "But look not so disappointed, Bautista, for
if I cannot trust myself to thee, I am going to leave in thy charge one
I hold almost dearer. I leave thee guardian of our faithful old Don.
And see thou that he comes to no harm, and—that he does no harm.
I have guarded him from that sin hitherto; do thou guard him in my
absence."
A deep breath, almost a groan, burst from the boy's lips.
"My Señor," he muttered anxiously, "give me some other duty to
perform for you. This may be too hard."
Diego frowned.
"I trust not," he said sternly. "It shall be worse for others if it prove so.
And remember, you have my orders, and if need be you must
declare them."
So saying he nodded his farewell to the boy and departed, leaving
Don's new guardian in a very doleful frame of mind, for he knew well
enough the cause of Don Alonzo's desire to be a short time rid of
Montoro.
The spice-merchant's son was good-natured enough so long as he
was crossed in nothing, but Montoro's settled refusal to have Don
used as a hunter of runaway slaves had roused Alonzo's spite, and
for the past year, ever since the return of Montoro and the dog from
Spain, he had been seeking some chance to gratify his malice.
Hitherto where Diego had gone the dog had gone, but at last this
expedition to the town was arranged, and for various circumstances
it was more convenient to leave Don behind.
"And at last," declared Don Alonzo with a malicious chuckle, "at last
the brute shall be set to its proper work."
Bautista was in the apartment at the time, as well as one of the
overseers, and as a significant warning to him the words were added
—"And it shall have its first taste of the flesh of any one, be he
Spaniard or native, who betrays my purpose to Señor Long-face."
No wonder the boy desired that some other duty might be commuted
to his charge by his patron, in test of his affection. As Montoro rode
off with a party of attendants, Bautista made his way to Don, and
poured out his fears to an apparently perfectly intelligent pair of ears.
"But all the same, you know quite well, Don," said Bautista
reproachfully, "you do know quite well, that in spite of your good
Christian bringing up, you would seize a poor redskin by the leg if
you were set at him."
"Of course he would, like the sensible thoroughbred he is," shouted
a well-known voice not a couple of yards distant. And Bautista
sprang to his feet with a terrified look on his face, as he saw the
hateful head overseer, Jerome Tivoli, had come up to him
unperceived.
The man now stood intently regarding the dog, with a more sinister
expression than usual upon his cruel face, and the boy could
scarcely restrain himself from flying away from the spot. Nothing
short of his loyal devotion to his patron could have kept him there. At
last he said huskily—
"It is useless so to examine this dog, for, strong or weak, you can
have nought to do with it, since it belongs to the Señor Diego, and he
chooses not that it should be used for your purposes."
De Tivoli uttered a short, hard laugh, and his eyes glittered as he
said slowly—
"Ah! yes. It is the Señor Montoro de Diego's dog—-his favourite. And
verily it is a fine animal, and powerful, and will do a day's work well
for us. That dog of a slave Guatchi has run away, and, dead or alive,
yon pet of our Señor Diego shall bring him back to us."
Bautista flung himself down again beside the dog, and threw his
arms about its neck, as he exclaimed with the courage of affection—
"No! I tell thee no, Señor Tivoli. Señor Diego has left it to me to
guard his dog from doing harm, and I will keep my charge."
De Tivoli's thin lips curled; but ere he could reply other footsteps
were heard approaching, and Don Alonzo himself appeared upon
the scene.
"How now, De Tivoli," he exclaimed hastily. "Why dost thou waste
time? The idle rascal Guatchi hath had start enough, I trow, to
breathe the dog e'en now; why dost thou delay?"
"It is but for a minute, Don Alonzo," replied the other coolly. "Yon boy
declares that, for Don Diego's sake, it shall not be sent hunting."
"And I," retorted Don Alonzo, "swear by St. Jago that it shall."
"And I, in the name of one higher," exclaimed Montoro de Diego,
thus unexpectedly making his own appearance on the scene again,
"I declare, with Bautista, that it shall not go."
Don Alonzo started slightly, and his face flushed for a moment with
ill-restrained annoyance and uneasiness as he saw that set, resolute
countenance before him; but he tried to assume an air of
carelessness, and to laugh away the matter with an off-hand—
"Why, my mentor, how have you contrived to accomplish the
business you had in hand so quickly? What brings you back so
soon?"
"Your good genius, I feel inclined to imagine," was Montoro's answer,
in tones somewhat quieter than those of his first exclamation. But the
fading sparkle in his eyes rekindled as his companion replied irritably
—
"Then I wish the meddlesome beast had minded its own business,
instead of sending you back here to pull a long face over what I
mean to do in spite of it."
As he spoke he walked up to where the dog Don lay tethered, held a
strip of cotton cloth to its nose, and then muttering viciously—
"Find him, Don, find him!" pressed his finger hastily on the spring of
the dog's collar, and set it free.
The great animal bounded forward. The next instant there was a
howl, a moan, and Don lay dying at Montoro's feet; rather, one
should say, at Montoro's knees, for the young man had sunk on to
them almost as soon as his own fist had fallen with that lightning
stroke, and the same hand that had dealt the death-blow was now
soothing the poor brute's last agonies. It was Montoro de Diego who
had killed it, and yet it was to Montoro's face that the pleading brown
eyes were lifted with their last gaze of affection, and it was Montoro's
hand that the dying tongue licked with the last breath.
"My poor old Don," muttered Montoro huskily, as he tenderly pressed
the side quivering with the death struggle; "poor old Don."
"It's fine for thee to pity the poor brute when it owes its sufferings to
thy malice," exclaimed Don Alonzo furiously, and with fingers on the
hilt of his dagger, as though they itched to lay his companion beside
the animal.
But Diego paid no seeming heed to the show of rage. Maintaining his
kneeling position for a while longer, he replied quietly—
"Yes, it once owed its life to me, and now it owes its death to me,
and better so than it should have been the innocent cause of
suffering to one of our human brethren, for whom the cross rose on
Calvary."
And then he rose from beside the dog's dead body, and turned
slowly away with a saddened face. In spite of its ferocious nature,
the animal had always been most docile with him; and besides, it
had been that oft-felt link with his mother's home. How long ago now
seemed that first day of parting from his country, when Rachel de
Diego's slender fingers had rested for a few moments on the
animal's head. Her son would far rather have a second time
undergone some peril to save its life, than have had to destroy it for
the prevention of a crime.
"Ah, Señor," murmured Bautista, as he crept out on to the verandah
after him a few minutes later. "Ah, Señor, you have saved poor
Guatchi's limbs from being mangled; but I doubt me you have made
an enemy for yourself."
"You were willing to do the same in the same cause, Bautista," was
the answer with a grave smile of approval. "I knew not that thou wast
so staunchly ranged on the side of justice and mercy. Henceforth we
are friends."
The boy sprang forward to clasp the hand held out to him, and said
eagerly—
"To follow in your steps, Señor, I began to remind myself that the
Indians' flesh had feelings like our own, but my past month in the
mines has been a black lesson in horror that I would not repeat to
escape the pains of purgatory. These Indians are tenfold weaker
than we are, and their sufferings are tenfold more, for they have
learnt nothing of manhood to sustain them. You have seen them die
here in the plantations, Señor, and that has roused your pity; but in
those mines it is not that some die, but that none survive. A few days
of that dismal work beneath cuffs and lashes, and their strength is
spent—"
"And then?" came the short query.
"And then," ended the boy with a sort of gasp for breath, "they sink to
the ground, and the brutal kick given to rouse them up to continued
labour, is the accompaniment of their last breath. It is little wonder,
Señor, that I should wish poor Guatchi to get away free, now that he
has escaped such toil alive."
The whole fervour of the boy's susceptible nature was aroused, and
Montoro felt more than ever convinced that he was in the presence
of one whose spirit was akin to his own.
"Hearken, Bautista," he said, after a short pause. "I have within the
past few hours copied out part of a commission against the
miserable inhabitants of this new world, lately granted by our king,
and framed by the greatest divines and lawyers of our old home.
Alonso de Ojeda and Diego de Nicuessa bear drafts of this
commission with them, and be well assured that they will not spare
its execution. But stay; I will read thee the very words themselves,
addressed for peremptory orders to these poor heathen, ignorant of
the very language in which we call upon them to obey our faith and
laws:—'If you will not consent to take our Church for your Church,
the holy father the Pope for your spiritual head, our king for your king
and sovereign lord over your kings and countries, then, with the help
of God, I will enter your country by force; I will carry on war against
you with the utmost violence; I will subject you to the yoke of
obedience; I will take your wives and children and will make them
slaves; I will seize your goods, and do you all the mischief in my
power, as rebellious subjects, who will not submit to their lawful
sovereign. And I protest that all the bloodshed and calamities that
shall follow shall be due to you, and not to us.'"[2]
As Montoro came to the end of his sheet he folded and replaced it in
his pocket, and then, utterly forgetful of his companion in his
reawakened indignation, he wandered away from the verandah, and
betook himself to the simple dwelling of the good clerigo,
Bartholomew de las Casas, who was now finally settled in
Hispaniola, by royal desire, as a missionary to the natives.
"But of what use," he exclaimed this afternoon in sorrowful despair to
his equally weary-hearted visitor, "of what use, Diego, to waste our
time and strength, in trying to teach the sublime truths of religion to
men whose spirits are broken, and their minds weakened by
oppression?"
"Of what use, indeed," assented Montoro with passion, "to try to
teach men to believe in a religion professing itself the religion of love
and mercy, while they are slaves to those calling themselves its
followers, and who are acting at the same time the part of demons!"
"You speak strongly," said the true-hearted, good Christian bishop.
"But verily I cannot say you have not reason. Knowest thou, my
friend, that when first we settled ourselves upon this fertile fragrant
island, not yet fifteen years ago, the inhabitants numbered above
three millions, and now they scarcely amount to fifteen thousand.
Scarcely fifteen thousand!" he repeated slowly, and in awe-struck
tones, as though he scarcely could endure to recall the awful fact to
his own remembrance.
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