 | CHAPTER I. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?”
Bryant.
The slumbers of Columbus were of short duration.
While his sleep lasted it was profound, like that of a man
who has so much control over his will as to have reduced
the animal functions to its domination, for he awoke regularly
at short intervals, in order that his watchful eye might
take a survey of the state of the weather, and of the condition
of his vessels. On this occasion, the admiral was on
deck again, a little after one, where he found all things
seemingly in that quiet and inspiring calm that ordinarily
marks, in fine weather, a middle watch at sea. The men
on deck mostly slumbered, the drowsy pilot, and the steersman,
with a look-out or two, alone remaining erect and
awake. The wind had freshened, and the caravel was
ploughing her way ahead, with an untiring industry, leaving
Ferro and its dangers, at each instant, more and more
remote. The only noises that were audible, were the gentle
sighing of the wind among the cordage, the wash of the
water, and the occasional creaking of a yard, as the breeze
forced it, with a firmer pressure, to distend its tackle and to
strain its fittings.
The night was dark, and it required a moment to accustom
the eye to objects by a light so feeble: when this was
done, however, the admiral discovered that the ship was not
close by the wind, as he had ordered that she should be
kept. Walking to the helm, he perceived that it was so far
borne up, as to cause her head to fall off towards the northeast,
which was, in fact, in the direction to Spain.
“Art thou a seaman, and disregardest thy course, in
this heedless manner?” sternly demanded the admiral; “or
art thou only a muleteer, who fancieth he is merely winding
his way along a path of the mountains. Thy heart is
in Spain, and thou thinkest that a vain wish to return may
meet with some relief in this idle artifice!”
“Alas, Señor Almirante! your Excellency hath judged
rightly in believing that my heart is in Spain, where it ought
to be, moreover, as I have left behind me at Moguer seven
motherless children.”
“Dost thou not know, fellow, that I too am a father, and
that the dearest objects of a father's hopes are left behind
me, also? In what, then, dost thou differ from me, my son
being also without a mother's care?”
“Excellency, he hath an admiral for a father, whilst my
boys have only a helmsman!”
“And what will it matter to Don Diego,” — Columbus
was fond of dwelling on the honours he had received from
the sovereigns, even though it were a little irregularly—
“what will it matter to Don Diego, my son, that his parent
perished an admiral, if he perish at all; and in what will
he profit more than your children, when he findeth himself
altogether without a parent?”
“Señor, it will profit him to be cherished by the king
and queen, to be honoured as your child, and to be fostered
and fed as the offspring of a viceroy, instead of being cast
aside as the issue of a nameless mariner.”
“Friend, thou hast some reason in this, and insomuch I
respect thy feelings” — answered Columbus, who, like our
own Washington, appears to have always submitted to a
lofty and pure sense of justice—“but thou would'st do well
to remember the influence that thy manly and successful
perseverance in this voyage may produce on the welfare of
thy children, instead of thus dwelling on weak forebodings
hath much to expect, should we fail of our discoveries, while
both may hope every thing should we succeed. Can I trust
thee now, to keep the ship on her course, or must I send
for another mariner to relieve the helm?”
“It may be better, noble admiral, to do the last. I will
bethink me of thy counsel, and strive with my longings for
home; but it would be safer to seek another for this duty,
while we are so near to Spain.”
“Dost thou know one Sancho Mundo, a common seaman
of this crew?”
“Señor, we all know him; he hath the name of the
most skilful of our craft, of all in Moguer.”
“Is he of thy watch, or sleepeth he with his fellows of
the relief below?”
“Señor, he is of our watch; and sleepeth not with his
fellows below, for the reason that he sleepeth on deck. No
care, or danger, can unsettle the confidence of Sancho!
To him the sight of land is so far an evil, that I doubt if he
rejoice should we ever reach those distant countries that
your Excellency seemeth to expect we may.”
“Go find this Sancho, and bid him come hither: I will
discharge thy office the while.”
Columbus now took the helm with his own hands, and
with a light play of the tiller brought the ship immediately
up as near the wind as she would lie. The effect was felt
in more quick and sudden plunges into the sea, a deeper
heel to leeward, and a fresh creaking aloft, that denoted a
renewed and increased strain on all the spars and their
tackle. In the course of a few minutes, however, Sancho
appeared rubbing his eyes, and yawning.
“Take thou this duty,” said the admiral, as soon as the
man was near him, “and discharge it faithfully. Those
who have been here already, have proved unfaithful, suffering
the vessel to fall off, in the direction of Spain; I expect
better things of thee. I think, friend Sancho, I may
count on thee as a true and faithful follower, even in extremity?”
“Señor Don Almirante,” said Sancho, who took the helm,
giving it a little play to feel his command of it, as a skilful
coachman brings his team in subjection on first assuming
and subordinate; such duty as becometh me, I am ready
to discharge.”
“Thou hast no fear of this voyage—no childish forebodings
of becoming an endless wanderer in an unknown sea,
without hope of ever seeing wife or child again?”
“Señor, you seem to know our hearts as well as if your
Excellency had made them with your own hands, and then
put them into our miserable bodies!”
“Thou hast, then, none of these unsuitable and unseamanlike
apprehensions?”
“Not as much, Excellency, as would raise an ave in a
parish priest, or a sigh in an old woman. I may have my
misgivings, for we all have weaknesses, but none of them
incline to any dread of sailing about the ocean, since that is
my happiness; nor to any concern about wife and children,
not having the first, and wishing not to think I have the
last.”
“If thou hast misgivings, name them. — I could wish to
make one firm as thou, wholly my friend.”
“I doubt not, Señor, that we shall reach Cathay, or
whatever country your Excellency may choose to seek; I
make no question of your ability to beard the Great Khan,
and, at need, to strip the very jewels from his turban; as
turban he must have, being an Infidel; nor do I feel any
misgivings about the magnitude and richness of our discoveries
and freights, since I believe, Señor Don Almirante, you
are skilful enough to take the caravels in at one end of
the earth and out at the other; or, even to load them with
carbuncles, should diamonds be wanting.”
“If thou hast this faith in thy leader, what other distrust
can give thee concern?”
“I distrust the value of the share, whether of honour or
of jewels, that will fall to the lot of one Sancho Mundo,
a poor unknown, almost shirtless mariner, that hath more
need of both than hath ever crossed the mind of our gracious
lady, Doña Isabella, or of her royal consort.”
“Sancho, thou art a proof that no man is without his
failings, and I fear thou art mercenary. They say all men
have their prices; thou seemest clearly to have thine.”
“Your Excellency hath not been sailing about the world
so easily. I have ever suspected I was mercenary, and
so have accepted all sorts of presents, to keep the feeling
down. Nothing appeases a mercenary longing like gifts
and rewards; and as for price, I strive hard to keep mine
as high as possible, lest it should bring me into discredit for
a mean and grovelling spirit. Give me a high price, and
plenty of gifts, and I can be as disinterested as a mendicant
friar.”
“I understand thee, Sancho; thou art to be bought, but
not to be frightened. In thy opinion a single dobla is too
little to be divided between thee and thy friend, the Portuguese.
I will make a league with thee on thine own
terms; here is another piece of gold; see that thou remainest
true to me throughout the voyage.”
“Count on me, without scruple, Señor Don Almirante,
and with scruples, too, should they interfere. Your Excellency
hath not a more disinterested friend in the fleet.
I only hope that when the share-list shall be written out,
the name of Sancho Mundo may have an honourable
place, as will become his fidelity. And now, your Excellency,
go sleep in peace; the Santa Maria shall lie as
near to the route to Cathay, as this south-westerly breeze
will suffer.”
Columbus complied, though he rose once or twice more,
during the night, to ascertain the state of the weather, and
that the men did their duties. So long as Sancho remained
at the helm, he continued faithful to his compact; but, as
he went below with his watch, at the usual hour, successors
were put in his place, who betrayed the original treachery
of the other helmsman. When Luis left his hammock,
Columbus was already at work, ascertaining the distance
that had been run in the course of the night. Catching the
inquiring glance of the young man, the admiral observed,
gravely, and not altogether without melancholy in his manner—
“We have had a good run, though it hath been more
northerly than I could have desired. I find that the vessels
are thirty leagues farther from Ferro than when the
sun set, and thou seest, here, that I have written four-and-twenty
in the reckoning, that is intended for the eyes of
this night among the steersmen, if not treachery: they have
kept the ship away in a manner to cause her to run a part
of the time in a direction nearly parallel to the coast of
Europe, so that they have been endeavouring to deceive
me, on the deck, whilst I have thought it necessary to attempt
deceiving them in the cabin. It is painful, Don Luis,
to find such deceptions resorted to, or such deceptions necessary,
when one is engaged in an enterprise that surpasseth
all others ever yet attempted by man, and that,
too, with a view to the glory of God, the advantage of the
human race, and the especial interests of Spain.”
“The holy churchmen, themselves, Don Christopher,
are obliged to submit to this evil,” answered the careless
Luis; “and it does not become us laymen to repine at
what they endure. I am told that half the miracles they
perform are, in truth, miracles of but a very indifferent
quality, the doubts and want of faith of us hardened sinners
rendering such little inventions necessary for the good
of our souls.”
“That there are false-minded and treacherous churchmen,
as well as false-minded and treacherous laymen, Luis,
I little doubt,” answered the admiral; “but this cometh of
the fall of man, and of his evil nature. There are also
righteous and true miracles, that come of the power of God,
and which are intended to uphold the faith, and to encourage
those who love and honour his holy name. I do not
esteem any thing that hath yet befallen us to belong very
distinctly to this class; nor do I venture to hope that we
are to be favoured in this manner by an especial intervention
in our behalf; but it exceedeth all the machinations of
the devils to persuade me that we shall be deserted while
bent on so glorious a design, or that we are not, indirectly
and secretly, led, in our voyage, by a spirit and knowledge
that both come of Divine grace and infinite wisdom.”
“This may be so, Don Christopher, so far as you are
concerned; though, for myself, I claim no higher a guide
than an angel. An angel's purity, and I hope I may add,
an angel's love, lead me, in my blind path across the
ocean!”
“So it seemeth to thee, Luis; but thou canst not know
instrument in this matter. Although no miracle rendereth
it apparent to the vulgar, a spirit is placed in my breast, in
conducting this enterprise, that I should deem it blasphemy
to resist. God be praised, my boy, we are at last quit of
the Portuguese, and are fairly on our road! At present all
our obstacles must arise from the elements, or from our
own fears. It gladdeneth my heart to find that the two
Pinzons remain true, and that they keep their caravels
close to the Santa Maria, like men bent on maintaining
their faith, and seeing an end of the adventure.”
As Luis was now ready, he and the admiral left the
cabin together. The sun had risen, and the broad expanse
of the ocean was glittering with his rays. The wind had
freshened, and was gradually getting farther to the south,
so that the vessels headed up nearly to their course; and,
there being but little sea, the progress of the fleet was, in
proportion, considerable. Every thing appeared propitious;
and the first burst of grief, on losing sight of known land,
having subsided, the crews were more tranquil, though
dread of the future was smothered, like the latent fires of a
volcano, rather than extinguished. The aspect of the sea
was favourable, offering nothing to view that was unusual
to mariners; and, as there is always something grateful in
a lively breeze, when unaccompanied with danger, the men
were probably encouraged by a state of things to which
they were accustomed, and which brought with it cheerfulness
and hope. In the course of the day and night, the
vessels ran a hundred and eighty miles, still farther into
the trackless waste of the ocean, without awakening half
the apprehensions in the bosoms of the mariners that they
had experienced on losing sight of land. Columbus, however,
acting on the cautious principle he had adopted, when
he laid before his people the result of the twenty-four hours'
work, reduced the distance to about one hundred and fifty.
Tuesday, the 1st of September, brought a still more favourable
change of wind. This day, for the first time since
quitting the Canaries, the heads of the vessels were laid
fairly to the west; and, with the old world directly behind
them, and the unknown ocean in their front, the adventurers
proceeded onward with a breeze at south-east. The
for the want of speed, by the steadiness of their progress,
and by the directness of their course.
The observations that are usually made at sea, when the
sun is in the zenith, were over, and Columbus had just announced
to his anxious companions that the vessels were
gradually setting south, owing to the drift of some invisible
current, when a cry from the mast-head, announced the
proximity of a whale. As the appearance of one of these
monsters of the deep breaks the monotony of a sea-life,
every one was instantly on the look-out, some leaping into
the rigging, and others upon the rails, in order to catch a
glimpse of his gambols.
“Dost thou see him, Sancho?” demanded the admiral of
Mundo, the latter being near him at the moment. “To me
the water hath no appearance of any such animals being
at hand.”
“Your Excellency's eye, Señor Don Almirante, is far
truer than that of the babbler's aloft. Such as this is the
Atlantic, and yonder is the foam of the crests of the waves,
there is no whale.”
“The flukes! — the flukes!” shouted a dozen voices at
once, pointing to a spot where a dark object arose above
the froth of the sea, showing a pointed summit, with short
arms extended on each side. “He playeth with his head
beneath the water, and the tail uppermost!”
“Alas! — Alas!” exclaimed the practised Sancho, with
the melancholy of a true seaman, “what these inexperienced
and hasty brawlers call the fluke of a whale, is nought
but the mast of some unhappy ship, that hath left her bones,
with her freight and her people, in the depths of the ocean!”
“Thou art right, Sancho,” returned the admiral. “I
now see that thou meanest: it is truly a spar, and doubtless
betokeneth a shipwreck.”
This fact passed swiftly from mouth to mouth, and the
sadness that ever accompanies the evidences of such a disaster,
settled on the faces of all the beholders. The pilots
alone showed indifference, and they consulted on the expediency
of endeavouring to secure the spar, as a resource in
time of need; but they abandoned the attempt on account
of the agitation of the water, and of the fairness of the wind,
to lose.
“There is a warning to us!” exclaimed one of the disaffected,
as the Santa Maria sailed past the waving summit
of the spar; “God hath sent this sign, to warn us not to
venture where he never intended navigators to go!”
“Say, rather,” put in Sancho, who, having taken the fee,
had ever since proved a willing advocate, “it is an omen
of encouragement sent from heaven. Dost thou not see that
the part of the mast that is visible resembleth a cross, which
holy sign is intended to lead us on, filled with hopes of success?”
“This is true, Sancho,” interrupted Columbus. “A cross
hath been reared for our edification, as it might be, in the
midst of the ocean, and we are to regard it as a proof that
Providence is with us, in our attempt to carry its blessings
to the aid and consolation of the heathen of Asia.”
As the resemblance to the holy symbol was far from
fanciful, this happy hit of Sancho's was not without its
effect. The reader will understand the likeness all the
better, when he is told that the upper end of a mast has
much of the appearance of a cross, by means of the trusseltrees;
and, as often happens, this particular spar was floating
nearly perpendicular, owing to some heavy object being
fast to its heel, leaving the summit raised some fifteen or
twenty feet above the surface of the sea. In a quarter of
an hour this last relict of Europe and of civilization disappeared
in the wake of the vessels, gradually diminishing in
size and settling towards the water, until its faint outlines
vanished in threads, still wearing the well-known shape of
the revered symbol of Christianity.
After this little incident, the progress of the vessels was
uninterrupted by any event worthy of notice for two days
and nights. All this time the wind was favourable, and
the adventurers proceeded due west, by compass, which
was in fact, however, going a little north of the real point
—a truth that the knowledge of the period had not yet
mastered. Between the morning of the 10th September,
and the evening of the 13th, the fleet had passed over near
ninety leagues of ocean, holding its way in a line but a
little deviating from a direct one athwart the great waste
if not farther west than the position of the Azores, then
the most westerly land known to European navigators.
On the 13th, the currents proved to be adverse, and having
a south-easterly set, they had a tendency to cause the ships
to sheer southwardly, bringing them, each hour, nearer to
the northern margin of the trades.
The admiral and Luis were at their customary post, on
the evening of the 13th, the day last mentioned, as Sancho
left the helm, his tour of duty having just ended. Instead
of going forward, as usual, among the people, the fellow
hesitated, surveyed the poop with a longing eye, and finding
it occupied only by the admiral and his constant companion,
he ascended the ladder, as if desirous of making
some communication.
“Would'st thou aught with me, Sancho?” demanded
the admiral, waiting for the man to make certain that no
one else was on the narrow deck. “Speak freely: thou
hast my confidence.”
“Señor Don Almirante, your Excellency well knoweth
that I am no fresh-water fish, to be frightened at the sight
of a shark or a whale, or one that is terrified because a
ship headeth west, instead of east; and yet do I come to
say that this voyage is not altogether without certain signs
and marvels, that it may be well for a mariner to respect,
as unusual, if not ominous.”
“As thou sayest, Sancho, thou art no driveller to be terrified
by the flight of a bird, or at the presage of a drifting
spar, and thou awakenest my curiosity to know more.
The Señor de Muños is my confidential secretary, and nothing
need be hid from him. Speak freely, then, and without
further delay. If gold is thy aim, be certain thou shalt
have it.”
“No, Señor, my news is not worth a maravedi, or it is
far beyond the price of gold; such as it is, your Excellency
can take it, and think no more of my reward. You know,
Señor, that we old mariners will have our thoughts as we
stand at the helm, sometimes fancying the smiles and good
looks of some hussy ashore, sometimes remembering the
flavour of rich fruits and well-savoured mutton; and then,
again, for a wonder, bethinking us of our sins.”
“Fellow, all this I well know; but it is not matter for an
admiral's ear.”
“I know not that, Señor; I have known admirals who
have relished mutton after a long cruise; ay, and who have
bethought them, too, of smiling faces and bright eyes, and
who, if they did not, at times, bethink them of their sins,
have done what was much worse, help to add to the great
account that was heaping up against them. Now, there
was—”
“Let me toss this vagabond into the sea, at once, Don
Christopher,” interrupted the impatient Luis, making a forward
movement as if to execute the threat, an act which
the hand of Columbus arrested; “we shall never hear a
tale the right end first, as long as he remaineth in the
ship.”
“I thank you, my young Lord of Llera,” answered
Sancho, with an ironical smile, “if you are as ready at
drowning seamen, as you are at unhorsing Christian
knights in the tourney, and Infidels in the fray, I would
rather that another should be master of my baths.”
“Thou know'st me, knave? — Thou hast seen me on
some earlier voyage.”
“A cat may look at a king, Señor Conde; and why not
a mariner on his passenger? But spare your threats, and
your secret is in safe hands. If we reach Cathay, no one
will be ashamed of having made the voyage; and if we
miss it, it is little likely that any will go back to relate the
precise manner in which your excellency was drowned, or
starved to death, or in what other manner you became a
saint in Abraham's bosom.”
“Enough of this!” said Columbus, sternly; “relate
what thou hast to say, and see that thou art discreet touching
this young noble.”
“Señor, your word is law. Well, Don Christopher, it
is one of the tricks of us mariners, at night, to be watching
an old and constant friend, the north star; and while thus
occupied, an hour since, I noted that this faithful guide and
the compass by which I was steering, told different tales.”
“Art certain of this?” demanded the admiral, with a
quickness and emphasis that betrayed the interest he felt in
the communication.
“As certain, Señor, as fifty years' looking at the star,
and forty years' watching of the compass can make a man.
But there is no occasion, your Excellency, to depend on my
ignorance, since the star is still where God placed it; and
there is your private compass at your elbow—one may be
compared with the other.”
Columbus had already bethought him of making this
comparison; and by the time Sancho ceased speaking, he
and Luis were examining the instrument with eager curiosity.
The first, and the most natural, impression, was a belief
that the needle of the instrument below was defective, or,
at least, influenced by some foreign cause; but an attentive
observation soon convinced the navigator, that the remark
of Sancho was true. He was both astonished and concerned
to find that the habitual care, and professional eye
of the fellow had been active, and quick to note a change
as unusual as this. It was indeed so common with mariners
to compare their compasses with the north star, a luminary
that was supposed never to vary its position in the
heavens, as that position related to man, that no experienced
seaman, who happened to be at the helm at nightfall, could
well overlook the phenomenon.
After repeated observations with his own compasses, of
which he kept two—one on the poop, and another in the
cabin; and having recourse also to the two instruments in
the binnacle, Columbus was compelled to admit to himself
that all four varied, alike, from their usual direction, nearly
six degrees. Instead of pointing due north, or, at least, in
a direct line towards a point on the horizon immediately beneath
the star, they pointed some five or six degrees to the
westward of it. This was both a novel and an astounding
departure from the laws of nature, as they were then
understood, and threatened to render the desired results of
the voyage so much the more difficult of attainment, as it
at once deprived the adventurers of a sure reliance on the
mariner's principal guide, and would render it difficult to
sail, with any feeling of certainty as to the course, in cloudy
weather, or dark nights. The first thought of the admiral,
on this occasion, however, was to prevent the effect which
such a discovery would be likely to produce on men already
disposed to anticipate the worst.
“Thou wilt say nothing of this, Sancho?” he observed
to the man. “Here is another dobla to add to thy store.”
“Excellency, pardon a humble seaman's disobedience,
if my hand refuse to open to your gift. This matter toucheth
of supernatural means; and, as the devil may have an
agency in the miracle, in order to prevent our converting
them heathen, of whom you so often speak, I prefer to keep
my soul as pure as may be, in the matter, since no one
knoweth what weapons we may be driven to use, should we
come to real blows with the Father of Sin.”
“Thou wilt, at least, prove discreet?”
“Trust me for that, Señor Don Almirante; not a word
shall pass my lips about this matter, until I have your Excellency's
permission to speak.”
Columbus dismissed the man, and then he turned towards
Luis, who had been a silent but attentive listener to what
had passed.
“You seem disturbed at this departure from the usual
laws of the compass, Don Christopher,” observed the young
man, gaily. “To me it would seem better to rely altogether
on Providence, which would scarcely lead us out
here, into the wide Atlantic, on its own errand, and desert
us when we most need its aid.”
“God implants in the bosom of his servants a desire to
advance his ends, but human agents are compelled to employ
natural means; and, in order to use such means advantageously,
it is necessary to understand them. I look
upon this phenomenon as a proof that our voyage is to result
in discoveries of unknown magnitude, among which,
perhaps, are to be numbered some clue to the mysteries of
the needle. The mineral riches of Spain differ, in certain
particulars, from the mineral riches of France; for, though
some things are common to all lands, others are peculiar to
particular countries. We may find regions where the
loadstone abounds, or may, even now, be in the neighbourhood
of some island that hath an influence on our compasses
that we cannot explain.”
“Is it known that islands have ever produced this effect
on the needle?”
“It is not — nor do I deem such a circumstance very
probable, though all things are possible. We will wait
permanent, ere we reason further on a matter that is so
difficult to be understood.”
The subject was now dropped, though the unusual incident
gave the great navigator an uneasy and thoughtful
night. He slept little, and often was his eye fastened on
the compass that was suspended in his cabin as a “telltale,”
for so seamen term the instrument by which the
officer overlooks the course that is steered by the helmsman,
even when the latter least suspects his supervision.
Columbus arose sufficiently early to get a view of the star
before its brightness was dimmed by the return of light,
and made another deliberate comparison of the position of
this familiar heavenly body with the direction of the needles.
The examination proved a slight increase of the variation,
and tended to corroborate the observations of the previous
night. The result of the reckoning showed that the vessels
had run nearly a hundred miles in the course of the
last twenty-four hours, and Columbus now believed himself
to be about six times that distance west of Ferro, though
even the pilots fancied themselves by no means as far.
As Sancho kept his secret, and no other eye among the
helmsmen was as vigilant, the important circumstance, as
yet, escaped general attention. It was only at night, indeed,
that the variation could be observed by means of the
polar star, and it was yet so slight that no one but a very
experienced and quick-eyed mariner would be apt to note
it. The whole of the day and night of the 14th consequently
passed without the crew's taking the alarm, and this so
much the more as the wind had fallen, and the vessels
were only some sixty miles farther west than when they
commenced. Still Columbus noted the difference, slight as
was the change, ascertaining, with the precision of an experienced
and able navigator, that the needle was gradually
varying more and more to the westward, though it was by
steps that were nearly imperceptible.
| CHAPTER I. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |