 | CHAPTER V. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
The gulf, the rock of Salamis?”
Byron.
The adventurers had now been twenty-three days out
of sight of land, all of which time, with the exception of
a few very immaterial changes in the wind, and a day or
two of calms, they had been steadily advancing towards
the west, with a southern variation that ranged between a
fourth of a point and a point and a quarter, though the
latter fact was unknown to them. Their hopes had been
so often raised to be disappointed, that a sort of settled
gloom now began to prevail among the common men, which
was only relieved by irregular and uncertain cries of `land,'
as the clouds produced their usual deceptions in the horizon.
Still their feelings were in that feverish state which admits
of any sudden change; and as the sea continued smooth
as a river, the air balmy, and the skies most genial, they
were prevented from falling into despair. Sancho reasoned,
as usual, among his fellows, resisting ignorance and folly,
with impudence and dogmatism; while Luis unconsciously
produced an effect on the spirits of his associates by his
cheerfulness and confidence. Columbus, himself, remained
calm, dignified, and reserved, relying on the justice of his
theories, and continuing resolute to attain his object. The
wind remained fair, as before, and in the course of the
night and day of the 2d of October, the vessels sailed more
than a hundred miles still further into that unknown and
mysterious sea. The weeds now drifted westerly, which
was a material change, the currents previously setting, in
the main, in an opposite direction. The 3d proved even a
still more favourable day, the distance made reaching to
forty-seven leagues. The admiral now began to think seriously
that he had passed the islands laid down in his
chart, and, with the high resolution of one sustained by
intention of reaching the shores of the Indies, at once.
The 4th was a better day than either, the little fleet passing
steadily ahead, without deviating from its course, until it
had fairly made one hundred and eighty-nine miles, much
the greatest day's work it had yet achieved. This distance,
so formidable to men who began to count each hour and
each league with uneasiness, was reckoned to all on board,
but Luis, as only one hundred and thirty-eight miles.
Friday, October 5th, commenced even more favourably,
Columbus finding his ship gliding through the water —
there being no sea to cause her to reel and stagger — at the
rate of about eight miles the hour, which was almost as
fast as she had ever been known to go, and which would
have caused this day's work to exceed the last, had not the
wind failed in the night. As it was, however, fifty-seven
more leagues were placed between Ferro and the position
of the vessels; a distance that was reduced to forty-five,
with the crew. The following day brought no material
change, Providence appearing to urge them on at a speed
that must soon solve the great problem which the admiral
had been so long discussing with the learned. It was
already dark, when the Pinta came sheering down upon the
quarter of the Santa Maria, until she had got so near that
her commander hailed without the aid of a trumpet.
“Is Señor Don Christopher at his post, as usual?” hurriedly
demanded Pinzon, speaking like one who felt he had
matter of weight upon his mind: “I see persons on the
poop, but know not if his Excellency be among them.”
“What would'st thou, good Martin Alonzo?” answered
the admiral: “I am here, watching for the shores of Cipango,
or Cathay, whichever God, in his goodness, may be
pleased first to give us.”
“I see so many reasons, noble admiral, for changing our
course more to the south, that I could not resist the desire
to come down and say as much. Most of the late discoveries
have been made in the southern latitudes, and we
might do well to get more southing.”
“Have we gained aught by changing our course in this
direction? Thy heart seemeth bent on more southern
climes, worthy friend; while to my feelings we are now in
may lie south, or even north of us; but a continent must
lie west. Why abandon a certainty for an uncertainty?
the greater for the less? Cipango or Cathay, for some pleasant
spot, fragrant with spices no doubt, but without a
name, and which can never equal the glories of Asia,
either as a discovery or as a conquest?”
“I would, Señor, I might prevail on you to steer more to
the south!”
“Go to, Martin Alonzo, and forget thy cravings. My
heart is in the west, and thither reason teacheth me to follow
it. First hear my orders, and then go seek the Niña,
that thy brother, the worthy Vicente Yañez, may obey them
also. Should aught separate us in the night, it shall be the
duty of all to stand manfully towards the west, striving to
find our company; for it would be a sad, as well as a useless
thing, to be wandering alone in this unknown ocean.”
Pinzon, though evidently much displeased, was fain to
obey, and, after a short but a sharp and loud altercation
with the admiral, the commander of the Pinta caused her
to sheer towards the felucca to execute the order.
“Martin Alonzo beginneth to waver,” Columbus observed
to Luis. “He is a bold and exceeding skilful mariner,
but steadiness of object is not his greatest quality.
He must be restrained from following the impulses of his
weakness, by the higher hand of authority. Cathay! —
Cathay is my aim!”
After midnight the wind increased, and for two hours the
caravels glanced through the smooth ocean at their greatest
speed, which equalled nine English miles the hour. Few
now undressed, except to change their clothes; and Columbus
slumbered on the poop that night, using an old sail
for his couch. Luis was his companion, and both were up
and on the deck with the first appearance of dawn. A
common feeling seemed to exist among all, that land was
near, and that a great discovery was about to be made. An
annuity of ten thousand maravedis had been promised by
the sovereigns to him who should first descry land, and
every eye was on the gaze, whenever opportunity permitted,
to gain the prize.
As the light diffused itself downward towards the margin
the appearance of land, and sail was eagerly crowded on
the different vessels, in order to press forward as fast as
possible, that their respective crews might enjoy the earliest
and the best chances of obtaining the first view. In this
respect, circumstances singularly balanced the advantages
and disadvantages between the competitors. The Niña was
the fastest vessel in light airs and smooth water, but she
was also the smallest. The Pinta came next in general
speed, holding a middle place in size, and beating her consorts
with a fresh breeze; while the Santa Maria, the last
in point of sailing, had the highest masts, and consequently
swept the widest range of horizon.
“There is a good feeling uppermost to-day, Señor Don
Christopher,” said Luis, as he stood at the admiral's side,
watching the advance of the light; “and if eyes can do
it, we may hope for the discovery of land. The late run
hath awakened all our hopes, and land we must have, even
if we raise it from the bottom of the ocean.”
“Yonder is Pepe, the dutiful husband of Monica, perched
on our highest yard, straining his eyes towards the west,
in the hope of gaining the reward!” said Columbus,
smiling. “Ten thousand maravedis, yearly, would, in
sooth, be some atonement to carry back to the grieved
mother and the deserted boy!”
“Martin Alonzo is in earnest, also, Señor. See how he
presseth forward in the Pinta; but Vicente Yañez hath the
heels of him, and is determined to make his salutations
first to the Great Khan, neglectful of the elder brother's
rights.
“Señor! — Señores!” shouted Sancho from the spar on
which he was seated as composedly as a modern lady
would recline on her ottoman — “the felucca is speaking
in signals.”
“This is true” — cried Columbus — “Vicente Yañez
showeth the colours of the queen, and there goeth a lombarda
to announce some great event!”
As these were the signals directed in the event that either
vessel should discover land before her consorts, little doubt
was entertained that the leading caravel had, at last, really
announced the final success of the expedition. Still, the
though all devoutly poured out their gratitude in mental
offerings, their lips were sealed until the result should show
the truth. Every rag of canvass was set, however, and
the vessels seemed to hasten their speed towards the west,
like birds tired with an unusual flight, which make new
efforts with their wearied wings as the prospect of alighting
suddenly breaks on their keen vision and active instincts.
Hour passed after hour, however, and brought no confirmation
of the blessed tidings. The western horizon
looked heavy and clouded throughout the morning, it is
true, often deceiving even the most practised eyes; but as
the day advanced, and the vessels had passed more than
fifty miles further towards the west, it became impossible
not to ascribe the hopes of the morning to another optical
illusion. The depression of spirits that succeeded this new
disappointment was greater than any that had before existed,
and the murmurs that arose were neither equivocal
nor suppressed. It was urged that some malign influence
was leading the adventurers on, finally to abandon them
to despair and destruction, in a wilderness of waters. This
is the moment when, it has been said, Columbus was compelled
to make conditions with his followers, stipulating to
abandon the enterprise altogether, should it fail of success
in a given number of days. But this weakness has been
falsely ascribed to the great navigator, who never lost the
fullest exercise of his authority, even in the darkest moments
of doubt; maintaining his purpose, and asserting
his power, with the same steadiness and calmness, in what
some thought this distant verge of the earth, as he had
done in the rivers of Spain. Prudence and policy at last
dictated a change of course, however, which he was neither
too obstinate nor too proud to submit to, and he accordingly
adopted it of his own accord.
“We are now quite a thousand leagues from Ferro, by
my private reckoning, friend Luis,” said Columbus to his
young companion, in one of their private conferences,
which took place after nightfall, “and it is really time to
expect the continent of Asia. Hitherto I have looked for
nought but island, and not with much expectation of seeing
even them, though Martin Alonzo and the pilots have been
however, that have appeared to-day, would seem to invite
us to follow their flights,—land, out of doubt, being their
aim. I shall accordingly change our course more to the
south, though not as far as Pinzon desireth, Cathay being
still my goal.”
Columbus gave the necessary orders, and the two other
caravels were brought within hail of the Santa Maria, when
their commanders were directed to steer west-south-west.
The reason for this change was the fact that so many birds
had been seen flying in that direction. The intention of
the admiral was to pursue this course for two days. Notwithstanding
this alteration, no land was visible in the
morning; but, as the wind was light, and the vessels had
only made five leagues since the course was changed, the
disappointment produced less despondency than usual. In
spite of their uncertainty, all in the vessels now rioted in
the balmy softness of the atmosphere, which was found so
fragrant that it was delicious to breathe it. The weeds, too,
became more plenty, and many of them were as fresh as
if torn from their native rocks only a day or two previously.
Birds, that unequivocally belonged to the land,
were also seen, in considerable numbers, one of which was
actually taken; whilst ducks abounded, and another pelican
was met. Thus passed the 8th of October, the adventurers
filled with hope, though the vessels only increased
their distance from Europe some forty miles in the course
of the twenty-four hours. The succeeding day brought no
other material change than a shift of wind, which compelled
the admiral to alter his course to west by north, for
a few hours. This caused him some uneasiness, for it was
his wish to proceed due west, or west-southerly; though it
afforded considerable relief to many among his people, who
had been terrified by the prevalence of the winds in one
direction. Had the variation still existed, this would have
been, in fact, steering the very course the admiral desired
to go; but by this time, the vessels were in a latitude and
longitude where the needle resumed its powers and became
faithful to its direction. In the course of the night, the
trades also resumed their influence; and early on the morning
of the 10th the vessels again headed towards the west-south-west,
course, or as near to it as might be.
Such was the state of things when the sun rose on the
morning of the 10th October, 1492. The wind had freshened,
and all three of the vessels were running free the
whole day, at a rate varying from five knots to nine. The
signs of the proximity of land had been so very numerous
of late, that, at every league of ocean they passed over,
the adventurers had the strongest expectations of discovering
it, and nearly every eye in all three of the ships
was kept constantly bent on the western horizon, in the
hope of its owner's being the first to make the joyful announcement
of its appearance. The cry of “land” had
been so frequent of late, however, that Columbus caused it
to be made known that he who again uttered it causelessly,
should lose the reward promised by the sovereigns,
even should he happen to be successful in the end. This
information induced more caution, and not a tongue betrayed
its master's eagerness on this all-engrossing subject,
throughout the anxious and exciting days of the 8th,
9th, and 10th October. But, their progress in the course
of the 10th, exceeding that made in the course of both
the other days, the evening sky was watched with a vigilance
even surpassing that which had attended any previous
sunset. This was the moment most favourable for
examining the western horizon, the receding light illuminating
the whole watery expanse in that direction, in a way
to give up all its secrets to the eye.
“Is that a hummock of land?” asked Pepe of Sancho,
in a low voice, as they lay together on a yard, watching
the upper limb of the sun, as it settled, like a glimmering
star, beneath the margin of the ocean—“or is it some of
this misguiding vapour that hath so often misled us of
late?”
“'T is neither, Pepe,” returned the more cool and experienced
Sancho; “but a rise of the sea, which is ever thus
tossing itself upward on the margin of the ocean. Didst
ever see a calm so profound, that the water left a straight
circle on the horizon? No — no — there is no land to be
seen in the west to-night; the ocean, in that quarter, looking
as blank as if we stood on the western shore of Ferro,
Our noble admiral may have truth of his side, Pepe; but
as yet he hath no other evidence of it than is to be found
in his reasons.”
“And dost thou, too, take sides against him, Sancho, and
say that he is a madman who is willing to lead others to
destruction, as well as himself, so that he die an admiral in
fact, and a viceroy in fancy?”
“I take sides against no man whose doblas take sides
with me, Pepe; for that would be quarrelling with the best
friend that both the rich and poor can make, which is gold.
Don Christopher is doubtless very learned, and one thing
hath he settled to my satisfaction, even though neither he
nor any of us ever see a single jewel of Cathay, or pluck
a hair from the beard of the Great Khan, and that is, that
this world is round; had it been a plain, all this water
would not be placed at the outer side, since it would clearly
run off, unless dammed up by land. Thou canst conceive
that, Pepe?”
“That do I; it is reasonable and according to every
man's experience. Monica thinketh the Genoese a saint!”
“Harkee, Pepe; thy Monica is no doubt an uncommonly
sensible woman, else would she never have taken
thee for a husband, when she might have chosen among a
dozen of thy fellows. I once thought of the girl myself,
and might have told her so, had she seen fit to call me a
saint, too, which she did not, seeing that she used a very
different epithet. But, admitting the Señor Colon to be a
saint, he would be none the better admiral for it, inasmuch
as I never yet met with a saint, or even with a virgin, that
could understand the bearings and distances of a run as
short as that from Cadiz to Barcelona.”
“Thou speakest irreverently, Sancho, of virgins and
saints, seeing that they know every thing”—
“Ay, every thing but that. Our Lady of Rabida does
not know south-east-and-by-southe-half-southe, from north-west-and-by-noathe-half-noathe.
I have tried her, in this
matter, and I tell thee she is as ignorant of it as thy Monica
is ignorant of the manner in which the Duchess of
Medina Sidonia saluteth the noble duke her husband, when
he returneth from hawking.”
“I dare say the duchess would not know, either, what to
say, were she in Monica's place, and were she called on to
receive me, as Monica will be, when we return from this
great expedition. If I have never hawked, neither hath the
duke ever sailed for two-and-thirty days, in a west course
from Ferro, and this, too, without once seeing land!”
“Thou say'st true, Pepe; nor hast thou ever yet done
this and returned to Palos. But what meaneth all this
movement on deck? Our people seem to be much moved
by some feeling, while I can swear it is not from having
discovered Cathay, or from having seen the Great Khan,
shining like a carbuncle, on his throne of diamonds.”
“It is rather that they do not see him thus, that the men
are moved. Dost not hear angry and threatening words
from the mouths of the troublesome ones?”
“By San Iago! were I Don Christopher, but I would
deduct a dobla from the wages of each of the rascals, and
give the gold to such peaceable men as you and me, Pepe,
who are willing to starve to death, ere we will go back
without a sight of Asia.”
“'T is something of this sort, of a truth, Sancho. Let
us descend, that his Excellency may see that he hath some
friends among the crew.”
As Sancho assented to this proposition, he and Pepe
stood on the deck in the next minute. Here, indeed, the
people were found in a more mutinous state than they had
been since the fleet left Spain. The long continuation of
fair winds, and pleasant weather, had given them so much
reason to expect a speedy termination of their voyage, that
nearly the whole crew were now of opinion it was due to
themselves to insist on the abandonment of an expedition
that seemed destined to lead to nothing but destruction.
The discussion was loud and angry, even one or two of
the pilots inclining to think, with their inferiors, that further
perseverance would certainly be useless, and might be fatal.
When Sancho and Pepe joined the crowd, it had just been
determined to go in a body to Columbus, and to demand, in
terms that could not be misconceived, the immediate return
of the ships to Spain. In order that this might be done
with method, Pedro Alonzo Niño, one of the pilots, and an
aged seaman called Juan Martin, were selected as spokesmen.
were seen descending from the poop, with an intent to retire
to their cabin, when a rush was made aft, by all on
deck, and twenty voices were heard simultaneously crying
—
“Señor — Don Christopher — Your Excellency — Señor
Almirante!”
Columbus stopped, and faced the people with a calmness
and dignity that caused the heart of Niño to leap towards
his mouth, and which materially checked the ardour of
most of his followers.
“What would ye?” demanded the admiral, sternly.
“Speak! Ye address a friend.”
“We come to ask our precious lives, Señor,” answered
Juan Martin, who thought his insignificance might prove
a shield—“nay, what is more, the means of putting bread
into the mouths of our wives and children. All here are
weary of this profitless voyage, and most think if it last
any longer than shall be necessary to return, it will be the
means of our perishing of want.”
“Know ye the distance that lieth between us and Ferro,
that ye come to me with this blind and foolish request?
Speak, Niño; I see that thou art also of their number,
notwithstanding thy hesitation.”
“Señor,” returned the pilot, “we are all of a mind. To
go farther into this blank and unknown ocean, is tempting
God to destroy us, for our wilfulness. It is vain to suppose
that this broad belt of water hath been placed by Providence
around the habitable earth for any other purpose
than to rebuke those who audaciously seek to be admitted
to mysteries beyond their understanding. Do not all the
churchmen, Señor—the pious prior of Santa Maria de Rabida,
your own particular friend, included — tell us constantly
of the necessity of submitting to a knowledge we
can never equal, and to believe without striving to lift a
veil that covers incomprehensible things?”
“I might retort on thee, honest Niño, with thine own
words,” answered Columbus, “and bid thee confide in
those whose knowledge thou canst never equal, and to follow
submissively where thou art totally unfitted to lead.
more of this.”
“Nay, Señor,” cried two or three in a breath, “we cannot
perish without making our complaints heard. We have
followed too far already, and, even now, may have gone
beyond the means of a safe return. Let us then turn the
heads of the caravels towards Spain, this night, lest we
never live to see that blessed country again.”
“This toucheth on revolt! Who among ye dare use
language so bold, to your admiral?”
“All of us, Señor,” answered twenty voices together.
“Men need be bold, when their lives would be forfeited by
silence.”
“Sancho, art thou, too, of the party of these mutineers?
Dost thou confess thy heart to be Spain-sick, and thy unmanly
fears to be stronger than thy hopes of imperishable
glory and thy longings for the riches and pleasures of
Cathay?”
“If I do, Señor Don Almirante, set me to greasing
masts, and take me from the helm, for ever, as one unfit
to watch the whirlings of the north star. Sail with the
caravels, into the hall of the Great Khan, and make fast
to his throne, and you will find Sancho at his post, whether
it be at the helm or at the lead. He was born in a ship-yard,
and hath a natural desire to know what a ship
can do.”
“And thou, Pepe? Hast thou so forgotten thy duty as
to come with this language to thy commander? to the admiral
and viceroy of thy sovereign, the Doña Isabella?”
“Viceroy over what?” exclaimed a voice from the
crowd, without permitting Pepe to answer. “A viceroy
over sea-weed, and one that hath tunny-fish, and whales,
and pelicans, for subjects! We tell you, Señor Colon, that
this is no treatment for Castilians, who require more substantial
discoveries than fields of weeds, and islands of
clouds!”
“Home! — Home!—Spain!—Spain!—Palos!—Palos!”
cried nearly all together, Sancho and Pepe having quitted
the throng and ranged themselves at the side of Columbus.
“We will no further west, which is tempting God; but demand
not already too late for so happy a deliverance.”
“To whom speak ye in this shameless manner, graceless
knaves?” exclaimed Luis, unconsciously laying a hand
where it had been his practice to carry a rapier. “Get ye
gone, or”—
“Be tranquil, friend Pedro, and leave this matter with
me,” interrupted the admiral, whose composure had scarce
been deranged by the violent conduct of his subordinates.
“Listen to what I have to say, ye rude and rebellious men,
and let it be received as my final answer to any and all
such demands as ye have just dared to make. This expedition
hath been sent forth by the two sovereigns, your
royal master and mistress, with the express design of
crossing the entire breadth of the vast Atlantic, until it
might reach the shores of India. Now, let what will happen,
these high expectations shall not be disappointed; but
westward we sail, until stopped by the land. For this determination,
my life shall answer. Look to it, that none
of yours be endangered by resistance to the royal orders,
or by disrespect and disobedience to their appointed substitute;
for, another murmur, and I mark the man that uttereth
it, for signal punishment. In this ye have my full
determination, and beware of encountering the anger of
those whose displeasure may prove more fatal than these
fancied dangers of the ocean.
“Look at what ye have before ye, in the way of fear,
and then at what ye have before ye, in the way of hope.
In the first case, ye have every thing to dread from the
sovereigns' anger, should ye proceed to a violent resistance
of their authority, or, what is as bad, something like a certainty
of your being unable to reach Spain, for want of
food and water, should ye revolt against your lawful
leaders and endeavour to return. For this, it is now too
late. The voyage east must, as regards time, be double
that we have just made, and the caravels are beginning to
be lightened in their casks. Land, and land in this region,
hath become necessary to us. Now look at the other side
of the picture. Before ye, lieth Cathay, with all its riches,
its novelties and its glories! A region more wonderful than
any that hath yet been inhabited by man, and occupied by
must be added the approbation of the sovereigns, and the
credit that will belong to even the meanest mariner that
hath manfully stood by his commander in achieving so
great an end.”
“If we will obey three days longer, Señor, will you then
turn towards Spain, should no land be seen?” cried a voice
from the crowd.
“Never”— returned Columbus, firmly. “To India am
I bound, and for India will I steer, though another month
be needed to complete the journey. Go then to your posts
or your hammocks, and let me hear no more of this.”
There was so much natural dignity in the manner of
Columbus, and when he spoke in anger, his voice carried
so much of rebuke with it, that it exceeded the daring of
ordinary men to presume to answer when he commanded
silence. The people sullenly dispersed, therefore, though
the disaffection was by no means appeased. Had there
been only a single vessel in the expedition, it is quite probable
that they would have proceeded to some act of violence;
but, uncertain of the state of feeling in the Pinta
and the Niña, and holding Martin Alonzo Pinzon in as
much habitual respect as they stood in awe of Columbus,
the boldest among them were, for the present, fain to give
vent to their dissatisfaction in murmurs, though they secretly
meditated decided measures, as soon as an opportunity
for consultation and concert, with the crews of the
other vessels, might offer.
“This looketh serious, Señor,” said Luis, as soon as he
and the admiral were alone again in their little cabin, “and,
by St. Luke! it might cool the ardour of these knaves, did
your Excellency suffer me to cast two or three of the most
insolent of the vagabonds into the sea.”
“Which is a favour that some among them have actually
contemplated conferring upon thee and me,” answered
Columbus. “Sancho keepeth me well informed of the
feeling among the people, and it is now many days since
he hath let me know this fact. We will proceed peaceably,
if possible, Señor Gutierrez, or de Muños, whichever name
thou most affectest, as long as we can; but should there
truly arise an occasion to resort to force, thou wilt find that
as he knoweth how to use his instruments of science.”
“How far do you really think us from land, Señor Almirante?
I ask from curiosity and not from dread; for
though the ship floated on the very verge of the earth,
ready to fall off into vacuum, you should hear no murmur
from me.”
“I am well assured of this, young noble,” returned Columbus,
affectionately squeezing the hand of Luis, “else
would'st thou not be here. I make our distance from Ferro
exceed a thousand marine leagues: this is about the same
as that at which I have supposed Cathay to lie from Europe,
and it is, out of question, sufficiently far to meet with many
of the islands that are known to abound in the seas of
Asia. The public reckoning maketh the distance a little
more than eight hundred leagues; but, in consequence of
the favourable currents of which we have lately had so
much, I doubt if we are not fully eleven hundred from the
Canaries, at this moment, if not even farther. We are
doubtless a trifle nearer to the Azores, which are situated
farther west, though in a higher latitude.”
“Then you think, Señor, that we may really expect
land, ere many days?”
“So certain do I feel of this, Luis, that I should have
little apprehension of complying with the terms of these
audacious men, but for the humiliation. Ptolemy divided
the earth into twenty-four hours, of fifteen degrees each,
and I place but some five or six of these hours in the Atlantic.
Thirteen hundred leagues, I feel persuaded, will
bring us to the shores of Asia, and eleven of these thirteen
hundred leagues do I believe we have come.”
“To-morrow may then prove an eventful day, Señor
Almirante; and now to our cots, where I shall dream of a
fairer land than Christian eye ever yet looked upon, with
the fairest maiden of Spain — nay, by San Pedro! of Europe—beckoning
me on!”
Columbus and Luis now sought their rest. In the morning,
it was evident by the surly looks of the people, that
feelings like a suppressed volcano were burning in their
bosoms, and that any untoward accident might produce an
eruption. Fortunately, however, signs, of a nature so
most disaffected from their melancholy broodings. The
wind was fresh, as usual fair, and, what was really a novelty
since quitting Ferro, the sea had got up, and the vessels
were riding over waves which removed that appearance
of an unnatural calm that had hitherto alarmed the men
with its long continuance. Columbus had not been on deck
five minutes, when a joyful cry from Pepe drew all eyes
towards the yard on which he was at work. The seaman
was pointing eagerly at some object in the water, and rushing
to the side of the vessel, all saw the welcome sign that
had caught his gaze. As the ship lifted on a sea, and shot
ahead, a rush, of a bright fresh green, was passed, and the
men gave a loud shout, for all well knew that this plant
certainly came from some shore, and that it could not
have been long torn from the spot of its growth.
“This is truly a blessed omen!” said Columbus: “rushes
cannot grow without the light of heaven, whatever may be
the case with weeds.”
This little occurrence changed, or at least checked, the
feelings of the disaffected. Hope once more resumed its
sway, and all who could, ascended the rigging to watch the
western horizon. The rapid motion of the vessels, too,
added to this buoyancy of feeling, the Pinta and Niña
passing and repassing the admiral, as it might be in pure
wantonness. A few hours later, fresh weeds were met, and
about noon Sancho announced confidently that he had seen
a fish which is known to live in the vicinity of rocks. An
hour later, the Niña came sheering up towards the admiral,
with her commander in the rigging, evidently desirous of
communicating some tidings of moment.
“What now, good Vicente Yañez?” called out Columbus:
“thou seemest the messenger of welcome news!”
“I think myself such, Don Christopher,” answered the
other. “We have just passed a bush bearing roseberries,
quite newly torn from the tree! This is a sign that cannot
deceive us.”
“Thou say'st true, my friend. To the west! — to the
west! Happy will he be whose eyes first behold the wonders
of the Indies!”
It would not be easy to describe the degree of hope and
Good-natured jests flew about the decks, and the laugh was
easily raised where so lately all had been despondency and
gloom. The minutes flew swiftly by, and every man had
ceased to think of Spain, bending his thoughts again on
the as yet unseen west.
A little later, a cry of exultation was heard from the
Pinta, which was a short distance to windward and ahead
of the admiral. As this vessel shortened sail and hove-to,
lowering a boat, and then immediately kept away, the Santa
Maria soon came foaming up under her quarter, and spoke
her.
“What now, Martin Alonzo?” asked Columbus, suppressing
his anxiety in an appearance of calmness and dignity.
“Thou and thy people seem in an ecstasy!”
“Well may we be so! About an hour since, we passed
a piece of the cane-plant, of the sort of which sugar is
made in the East, as travellers say, and such as we often
see in our own ports. But this is a trifling symptom of
land compared to the trunk of a tree that we have also
passed. As if Providence had not yet dealt with us with
sufficient kindness, all these articles were met floating near
each other; and we have thought them of sufficient value
to lower a boat, that we might possess them.”
“Lay thy sails to the mast, good Martin Alonzo, and
send thy prizes hither, that I may judge of their value.”
Pinzon complied, and the Santa Maria being hove-to, at
the same time, the boat soon touched her side. Martin
Alonzo made but one bound from the thwart to the gunwale
of the ship, and was soon on the deck of the admiral.
Here he eagerly displayed the different articles that his
men tossed after him, all of which had been taken out of
the sea, not an hour before.
“See, noble Señores,” said Martin Alonzo, almost breathless
with haste to display his treasures—“this is a sort of
board, though of unknown wood, and fashioned with exceeding
care: here is also another piece of cane: this is a
plant that surely cometh from the land; and most of all,
this is a walking-stick, fashioned by the hand of man, and
that, too, with exceeding care!”
“All this is true,” said Columbus, examining the different
praised for these comfortable evidences of our near approach
to a new world! None but a malignant infidel can
now doubt of our final success.”
“These things have questionless come from some boat
that hath been upset, which will account for their being so
near each other in the water,” said Martin Alonzo, willing
to sustain his physical proofs by a plausible theory. “It
would not be wonderful were drowned bodies near.”
“Let us hope not, Martin Alonzo,” answered the admiral;
“let us fancy nought so melancholy. A thousand
accidents may have thrown these articles together, into the
sea; and once there, they would float in company for a
twelvemonth, unless violently separated. But, come they
whence they may, to us, they are infallible proofs that not
only land is near, but land which is the abiding place of
men.”
It is not easy to describe the enthusiasm that now prevailed
in all the vessels. Hitherto they had met with only
birds, and fishes, and weeds, signs that are often precarious;
but here was such proof of their being in the neighbourhood
of their fellow-creatures, as it was not easy to
withstand. It was true, articles of this nature might drift,
in time, even across the vast distance they had come; but
it was not probable that they would drift so far in company.
Then, the berries were fresh, the board was of an
unknown wood, and the walking-stick, in particular, if
such indeed was its use, was carved in a manner that was
never practised in Europe. The different articles passed
from hand to hand, until all in the ship had examined
them; and every thing like doubt vanished before this unlooked-for
confirmation of the admiral's predictions. Pinzon
returned to his vessel, sail was again made, and the
fleet continued to steer to the west-south-west, until the
hour of sunset.
Something like a chill of disappointment again came
over the more faint-hearted of the people, however, as they
once more, or for the thirty-fourth time since quitting Gomera,
saw the sun sink behind a watery horizon. More
than a hundred vigilant eyes watched the glowing margin
of the ocean, at this interesting moment, and though the
tinted vault, and the outline of water, broken into
the usual ragged forms of the unquiet element.
The wind freshened as evening closed, and Columbus
having called his vessels together, as was usual with him
at that hour, he issued new orders concerning the course.
For the last two or three days they had been steering materially
to the southward of west, and Columbus, who felt
persuaded that his most certain and his nearest direction,
from land to land, was to traverse the ocean, if possible,
on a single parallel of latitude, was anxious to resume his
favourite course, which was what he fancied to be due west.
Just as night drew around the mariners, accordingly, the
ships edged away to the required course, and ran off at the
rate of nine miles the hour, following the orb of day, as if
resolute to penetrate into the mysteries of his nightly retreat,
until some great discovery should reward the effort.
Immediately after this change in the course, the people
sang the vesper hymn, as usual, which, in that mild sea,
they often deferred until the hour when the watch below
sought their hammocks. That night, however, none felt
disposed to sleep; and it was late when the chant of the
seamen commenced, with the words of “Salve fac Regina.”
It was a solemn thing to hear the songs of religious
praise, mingling with the sighings of the breeze and the
wash of the waters, in that ocean solitude; and the solemnity
was increased by the expectations of the adventurers
and the mysteries that lay behind the curtain they
believed themselves about to raise. Never before had this
hymn sounded so sweetly in the ears of Columbus, and
Luis found his eyes suffusing with tears as he recalled the
soft thrilling notes of Mercedes's voice, in her holy breathings
of praise at this hour. When the office ended, the
admiral called the crew to the quarter-deck, and addressed
them earnestly from his station on the poop.
“I rejoice, my friends,” he said, “that you have had the
grace to chant the vesper hymn in so devout a spirit, at a
moment when there is so much reason to be grateful to
God for his goodness to us throughout this voyage. Look
back at the past, and see if one of you, the oldest sailor
of your number, can recal any passage at sea, I will not
made, but any equal number of days at sea, in which the
winds have been as fair, the weather as propitious, or the
ocean as calm, as on this occasion. Then what cheering
signs have encouraged us to persevere! God is in the
midst of the ocean, my friends, as well as in his sanctuaries
of the land. Step by step, as it were, hath he led us
on, now filling the air with birds, now causing the sea to
abound with unusual fishes, and then spreading before us
fields of plants, such as are seldom met far from the rocks
where they grew. The last and best of his signs hath he
given us this day. My own calculations are in unison with
these proofs, and I deem it probable that we reach the land
this very night. In a few hours, or when we shall have
run the distance commanded by the eye, as the light left
us, I shall deem it prudent to shorten sail; and I call on
all of you to be watchful, lest we unwittingly throw ourselves
on the strange shores. Ye know that the sovereigns
have graciously promised ten thousand maravedis, yearly,
and for life, to him who shall first discover land: to this
rich reward, I will add a doublet of velvet, such as it would
befit a grandee to wear. Sleep not, then; but, at the turn
of the night, be all vigilance and watchfulness. I am now
most serious with ye, and look for land this very blessed
night.”
These encouraging words produced their full effect, the
men scattering themselves in the ship, each taking the best
position he could, to earn the coveted prizes. Deep expectation
is always a quiet feeling, the jealous senses
seeming to require silence and intensity of concentration,
in order to give them their full exercise. Columbus remained
on the poop, while Luis, less interested, threw himself
on a sail, and passed the time in musing on Mercedes,
and in picturing to himself the joyful moment when he
might meet her again, a triumphant and successful adventurer.
The death-like silence that prevailed in the ship, added
to the absorbing interest of that important night. At the
distance of a mile was the little Niña, gliding on her course
with a full sail; while half a league still farther in advance
was to be seen the shadowy outline of the Pinta, which
preceded her consorts, as the swiftest sailer with a fresh
in person, and never before had the admiral's ship held as
good way with her consorts as on that night, all three of
the vessels appearing to have caught the eager spirit of
those they contained, and to be anxious to outdo themselves.
At moments the men started, while the wind murmured
through the cordage, as if they heard unknown and strange
voices from a mysterious world; and fifty times, when the
waves combed upon the sides of the ship, did they turn
their heads, expecting to see a crowd of unknown beings,
fresh from the eastern world, pouring in upon their decks.
As for Columbus, he sighed often; for minutes at a
time would he stand looking intently towards the west, like
one who strove to penetrate the gloom of night, with
organs exceeding human powers. At length he bent his
body forward, gazed intently over the weather railing of
the ship, and then lifting his cap, he seemed to be offering
up his spirit in thanksgiving or prayer. All this Luis witnessed,
where he lay: at the next instant he heard himself
called.
“Pero Gutierrez — Pedro de Muños — Luis — whatever
thou art termed,” said Columbus, his fine masculine voice
trembling with eagerness,—“come hither, son; tell me if
thine eyes accord with mine. Look in this direction —
here, more on the vessel's beam; seest thou aught uncommon?”
“I saw a light, Señor; one that resembled a candle,
being neither larger nor more brilliant; and to me it appeared
to move, as if carried in the hand, or tossed by
waves.”
“Thy eyes did not deceive thee; thou seest it doth
not come of either of our consorts, both of which are
here on the bow.”
“What do you, then, take this light to signify, Don
Christopher?”
“Land! It is either on the land itself, rendered small
by distance, or it cometh of some vessel that is a stranger
to us, and which belongeth to the Indies. There is Rodrigo
Sanchez of Segovia, the comptroller of the fleet, beneath
us; descend and bid him come hither.”
Luis did as required, and presently the comptroller was
light was not seen again; then it gleamed upward once or
twice, like a torch, and finally disappeared. This circumstance
was soon known to all in the ship, though few
attached the same importance to it as Columbus himself.
“This is land,” quietly observed the admiral, to those
near his person: “ere many hours we may except to behold
it. Now ye may pour out your souls in gratitude and confidence,
for in such a sign there can be no deception. No
phenomenon of the ocean resembleth that light; and my
reckoning placeth us in a quarter of the world where land
must exist, else is the earth no sphere.”
Notwithstanding this great confidence on the part of the
admiral, most of those in the ship did not yet feel the same
certainty in the result, although all felt the strongest hopes
of falling in with land next day. Columbus saying no
more on the subject, the former silence was soon resumed,
and, in a few minutes, every eye was again turned to the
west, in anxious watchfulness. In this manner the time
passed away, the ships driving ahead with a speed much
exceeding that of their ordinary rate of sailing, until the
night had turned, when its darkness was suddenly illuminated
by a blaze of light, and the report of a gun from
the Pinta came struggling up against the fresh breeze of
the trades.
“There speaketh Martin Alonzo!” exclaimed the admiral;
“and we may be certain that he hath not given the
signal idly. Who sitteth on the top-gallant yard, there, on
watch for wonders ahead?”
“Señor Don Almirante, it is I,” answered Sancho. “I
have been here since we sang the vesper hymn.”
“Seest thou aught unusual, westward? Look vigilantly,
for we touch on mighty things!”
“Nought, Señor, unless it be that the Pinta is lessening
her canvass, and the Niña is already closing with our fleet
consort — nay, I now see the latter shortening sail, also!”
“For these great tidings, all honour and praise be to
God! These are proofs that no false cry hath this time
misled their judgments. We will join our consorts, good
Bartolemeo, ere we take in a single inch of canvass.”
Everything was now in motion on board the Santa Maria,
came up with the two other caravels, both of which had
hauled by the wind, under short canvass, and were forging
slowly through the water, on different tacks, like coursers
cooling themselves after having terminated a severe struggle
by reaching the goal.
“Come hither, Luis,” said Columbus, “and feast thine
eyes with a sight that doth not often meet the gaze of the
best of Christians.”
The night was far from dark, a tropical sky glittering
with a thousand stars, and even the ocean itself appearing
to emit a sombre melancholy light. By the aid of such
assistants it was possible to see several miles, and more
especially to note objects on the margin of the ocean.
When the young man cast his eyes to leeward, as directed
by Columbus, he very plainly perceived a point where the
blue of the sky ceased, and a dark mound rose from the
water, stretching for a few leagues southward, and then
terminated, as it had commenced, by a union between the
watery margin of the ocean and the void of heaven. The
intermediate space had the defined outline, the density, and
the hue of land, as seen at midnight.
“Behold the Indies!” said Columbus; “the mighty
problem is solved! This is doubtless an island, but a continent
is near. Laud be to God!”
| CHAPTER V. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |