Christopher Columbus Part 5

On Cuba the boats were calked and sc.r.a.ped, and the Admiral superintended the operations. He was always a busy, busy man, on land or sea. Being a great lover of nature, he left this nautical business for a while and traveled a few days inland; and of every native he met he asked that same question that he had been asking among all these lovely islands, "Is there any gold or pearls or spices?" No, that land lies west, far west; thus Columbus understood the sign answer; but after following a native in that direction for a long time, he had to give it up, for the time being. When he returned to the beach, Martin Pinzon showed him a big stick of cinnamon wood for which, in his absence, one of the sailors had traded a handful of beads.

"The native had quant.i.ties of it," Martin a.s.sured his Admiral.

"Then why didn't the sailor get it all?"

"Because," and here Martin grew malicious, "you ordered that they could trade only a little, so that you could do most of it yourself!"

And now the native had gone, and the rueful Admiral never saw him nor his cinnamon again!

At last, sailing along Cuba, he came to its end; and from there he could see another island eighteen leagues off. This was what we call Haiti, or San Domingo. The s.h.i.+ps sailed over to Haiti, and the Admiral was so pleased with its aspect that he christened it Hispaniola, or little Hispania, which is Latin for Spain; but as Spain is called by its own people Espana, Hispaniola soon became Espanola.

CHAPTER XI

THE RETURN IN THE NINA

Espanola, or Haiti, the name we know it by, evidently corresponded to all of the Admiral's preconceived notions of what he was to find in the western waters. He describes it in his diary as the loveliest island they had yet seen; its thousands of trees "seemed to reach to Heaven."

Any one who had lived long in Spain, where trees are few and small, must have taken great delight in the sight of a real forest, and so Columbus wrote much on the beauties of Haiti. Scratch away with your pen, good Admiral, and tell us about the trees, and the lovely nights that are like May in Cordova, and the gold mine which the natives say is on the island. Enjoy the spot while you may, for bitter days are coming when its very name will sadden you. Could you but see into the unknown future as clearly as you saw into the unknown west, you would hurry away from lovely "little Spain" as fast as your rickety caravel would take you!

Troubles in plenty are awaiting you!

But the skillfulest mariner cannot know what to-morrow may bring forth.

How was even an "Admiral of the Ocean Seas" to know that when he went to bed on Christmas Eve, his helmsman would soon sneak from his post and hand the rudder to a little cabin-boy. The night was calm and warm, as December generally is in those southern waters. The Admiral had been up night and day when cruising along the Cuban coast, and now thought he might safely take a few hours' repose. Few hours, indeed, for soon after midnight he hears the cabin-boy screaming "danger!" A strong, unsuspected current has carried the tiller out of his weak hands, and the _Santa Maria_ is sc.r.a.ping on a sandy bottom. Instantly the Admiral is on deck, and the disobedient helmsman is roused from his sleep. At once Columbus sees that their only possible salvation is to launch the s.h.i.+p's boat and lay out an anchor well astern; he orders the helmsman and another sailor--for they are all rus.h.i.+ng on deck now--to do so. But the minute they touch water the frightened, contemptible creatures row quickly away and ask the _Nina_ to take them aboard.

The _Santa Maria_ grates a little farther down into the sand bar and swings sidewise. Columbus orders them to cut the mainmast away, hoping to steady her some, but it proves useless; the s.h.i.+p's seams are opening; the water is rus.h.i.+ng in; they must abandon her to her fate. So they all follow that cur of a helmsman and crowd on to the _Nina_.

Did ever a Christmas morning dawn more dismally?

The island of Haiti had several kings or caciques. The one who lived near the Admiral's landing place had been extremely friendly to his strange visitors, and when in the morning he saw their sad plight, he sent all the people of the town out in large canoes to unload the s.h.i.+p.

He himself came down to the sh.o.r.e and took every precaution that the goods should be brought safely to land and cared for. The next day, Wednesday, December 26, the diary recorded:--

"At sunrise the king visited the Admiral on board the _Nina_ and entreated him not to indulge in grief, for he would give him all he had; that he had already a.s.signed the wrecked Spaniards on sh.o.r.e two large houses, and if necessary would grant others and as many canoes as could be used in bringing the goods and crews to land--which in fact he had been doing all the day before without the slightest trifle being purloined."

Nor did his aid end here; when Columbus decided to build a fort and storehouse out of the _Santa Maria's_ timbers, the natives helped in that too.

In the fort it was decided to leave about forty men "with a provision of bread and wine for more than a year, seed for planting, the long boat of the s.h.i.+p, a calker, a carpenter, a gunner, and many other persons who have earnestly desired to serve your Highnesses and oblige me by remaining here and searching for the gold mine."

Columbus was, in short, planting the first settlement in the New World.

As the disaster had occurred on Christmas morning, he called the town "La Navidad" (the Nativity). To govern it he left a trusty friend, Diego de Arana, whose sister was little Fernando's mother. Columbus drew up a few excellent rules for the conduct of his colonists, and made them a wise address besides. Then he loaded a gun and fired it into the hull of his stranded s.h.i.+p, just "to strike terror into the natives and make them friendly to the Spaniards left behind." This done, he said good-by to the colony, telling them how he hoped to find, on his return from Castile, a ton of gold and spices collected by them in their trade with the natives; and "in such abundance that before three years the king and queen may undertake the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre."

On January 4, 1493, just a year after Columbus had been dismissed from Granada for asking to be made Admiral and Viceroy of the undiscovered lands in the west, he turned his back on those lands now discovered and started home. Not, however, with three s.h.i.+ps, for we have learned what happened to the _Santa Maria_; not even with two s.h.i.+ps, for we have _not_ yet learned what happened to the _Pinta_, which Martin Pinzon commanded. Martin had deserted a month before the s.h.i.+pwreck. Yes, that good and capable navigator, who had helped so much to get the expedition started, had struck off with his picked Palos men on a different course, without asking leave from his Admiral. Nor was this all; for according to the Journal, Martin had "by his language and actions occasioned many other troubles." Columbus professes that Pinzon's conduct mystified him. It was on November 21 that the _Pinta_ started off. Columbus could not believe his eyes, he says.

Thinking that the s.h.i.+p must soon come back, all that night he "burned a torch, because the night was clear and there was a nice little breeze by which Martin could have come had he wished." But Martin did not wish. He still had hopes, perhaps, of finding c.i.p.ango before returning to Spain.

And so, on January 4, when Columbus gave the pilot orders to set the rudder for home, there was left only the smallest caravel of all, the _Nina_. They kept on among the islands, frequently landing, and had many more adventures before they struck the open sea. Always they asked for gold, and sometimes they learned that it could be procured by journeying "eastward," but more often, "west." In one place they had a new experience--a shower of unfriendly arrows. In another island the soil and trees so nearly corresponded to what Columbus and Pinzon had read of c.i.p.ango that Columbus believed for a moment that he had reached Martin's cherished goal; to be sure, there were no golden temples to be seen, but Columbus, always hopeful, was willing to believe that these lay farther inland, near the gold mines. Resolved to investigate on his next voyage, he made accurate notes so as to find this same beautiful harbor again. But the natives who gathered around explained, by signs, that the island was small, and that there were no palaces or bridges.

While lingering here, the most remarkable thing happened; for another European caravel led by another explorer entered! Of course it was the _Pinta_ whose captain had been trying to find either c.i.p.ango or the mainland. There was nothing for Martin to do but to appear friendly and pretend that his s.h.i.+p had drifted away and got lost. Columbus accepted the excuse, and both s.h.i.+ps started direct for home. The last of the Bahamas faded from sight that same day, January 16, and the two tiny caravels were again the only moving objects on the vast, but no longer unknown, Atlantic Ocean.

For nearly a month, that is, until February 13, the pa.s.sage was calm and monotonous; and as the _Pinta_ was in bad shape again every one was relieved to find the weather so quiet; but on the 13th the wind rose and rose till it lashed the sea into a fury. All day the sailors labored with the angry waves that kept das.h.i.+ng over the decks; and all that night the two lonely little s.h.i.+ps kept signaling to each other until they were swept too far apart. When day broke, the _Pinta_ was nowhere to be seen and was sorrowfully given up for lost. But there was no time to mourn; this day was even worse than yesterday, and the Admiral and his sailors, after the custom of their time, made vows that if only the Virgin would intercede with Heaven and save them, they would make a pilgrimage to her shrine of Guadalupe, far north of Sevilla, or go as penitents in procession to the first church they came to after reaching land.

In spite of these appeals, the danger increased every minute, and we may well imagine the agony of the little crew. The intrepid Columbus, who had accomplished a marvelous thing, a feat which would stagger all Europe, seemed destined to go down in mid-ocean with his great discovery! Here was the _Pinta_ sunk and the _Nina_ likely to follow her any minute! Europe would never know that land lay west of her across the Atlantic! And all those timid, doubting men in Spain, who had opposed the expedition from the very first, would shake their heads and say, "Poor men, the sea monsters on the ocean's rim have gobbled them up!" It must have taken every bit of heart out of the brave Admiral to think that Spain would never know how gloriously he had succeeded.

Down into his dark cabin he went, and there, while the little _Nina_ staggered and pitched on the mountainous waves, he steadied his swinging lantern with one hand, and with the other hastily wrote on a parchment what he had done. This he tied in waterproofed cloth, placed it in a wooden cask, and threw it overboard. Then, for fear it might never be washed ash.o.r.e, he hurriedly prepared a second cask and lashed it to the deck, hoping that the little caravel, even if he and all his men perished, might toss about till it reached the Azores, which he judged must be near. And sure enough, next morning land was in sight, and the sailors shouted for joy though the storm still raged. It was not until the 18th that the sea had subsided sufficiently for them to approach the rocky coast. When finally they were able to cast anchor, they found they were at Santa Maria, one of the Azores group.

The Azores, you will remember, were inhabited by Portuguese. Columbus, knowing there would surely be a church there dedicated to the Virgin, sent half the crew ash.o.r.e to make the penitential procession they had vowed; but this first boat load were promptly made prisoners by the Portuguese. What a sad reward for religious men who were trying to keep a vow! The governor of the island then ordered Columbus to come ash.o.r.e and be made prisoner also, which you may be sure he did not do. There was much angry arguing back and forth, for Spain and Portugal were old enemies; but finally the Portuguese governor dropped his high- handedness, sent back the prisoners, and the poor storm-tossed little _Nina_ bravely set out again to cover the many remaining miles between her and Spain.

Even after all their hards.h.i.+ps and their sorrow over the loss of their friends on the _Pinta_, the unhappy mariners were not to be left in peace. After a few days another violent storm beat against them and buffeted them for days, while a terrific wind came and tore their sails away. The poor little _Nina_, bare-poled, was now driven helpless before the gale. And yet, marvelous to relate, she did not founder, but kept afloat, and on the morning of March 4, sailors and Admiral saw land not far away.

"The Madeiras!" cried some, just as they had cried before when off the Azores.

"Spain!" cried others, more hopefully.

"The Rock of Cintra, near Lisbon!" cried their Admiral, whose power of gauging distances, considering his lack of instruments, was little short of marvelous. And Cintra it was. Again chance brought him to an unfriendly coast, and gave him no choice but to run into the mouth of the Portuguese river Tagus for shelter.

Like wildfire the report ran up and down the coast that a s.h.i.+p had just returned across the Atlantic from the Indies (for the Spanish sailors called the new islands the Indies of Antilla) and of course the s.h.i.+p was full of treasure! In command of this s.h.i.+p was Christopher Columbus, the very man whom King John of Portugal had refused to aid years before!

Hundreds of small boats surrounded the little caravel, and the curious Portuguese clambered aboard and asked, among their many eager questions, to be shown the treasures and "Los Indios." The commander of a Portuguese man-of-war anch.o.r.ed near a.s.sumed a bullying att.i.tude and ordered Columbus to come aboard the wars.h.i.+p and explain why he had dared to cruise among Portugal's possessions. Columbus, more tactful than usual, replied that, being now an Admiral of Spain, it was his duty to remain on his vessel. Meanwhile, he dispatched a courier to the monarchs of Spain with the great tidings; while from the king of Portugal he begged permission to land, and sent word, _not_ that he had, as people were saying, discovered an Atlantic route to the Indies, but that he had sailed to the fabled islands of Antilla in the far Atlantic.

In answer, the king gave permission to land at Lisbon, and invited Columbus to court. Columbus may not have wished to go there, but a royal invitation was a command. On entering the king's presence, the great explorer saw many of the n.o.blemen who, years before, had advised their monarch not to aid him. Our Admiral is not to be blamed, therefore, if he took a deep delight in painting his new world in the rosiest colors possible. His story made king and courtiers feel uncomfortably foolish for not having been willing to take the risk Spain had taken. It was a bitter pill for poor King John to swallow, and straightway his scheming old brain began to hatch a pretext for getting the new lands for himself.

"Pope Martin V.," he reminded his visitor, "conceded to the Crown of Portugal all lands that might be discovered between Cape Bojador and the Indies, and your new discovery therefore belongs to me rather than to Spain."

"Quite right," murmured his courtiers. Then, when Columbus declared he had sailed west and not south, that Spain herself had warned him to keep clear of Portugal's possessions, and that the lands he had discovered were merely Atlantic islands, they all insisted that "the Indies were the Indies, and belonged by papal authority to Portugal!"

Oh, those s.h.i.+fting, indiscriminate, fifteenth-century Indies which Europe invented to explain the unknown world! What misunderstandings resulted from the vague term! Columbus, again tactful, stopped boasting now, and merely observed that he had never heard of this papal treaty, and that the monarchs would have to settle it between themselves. Then he took his departure, with every show of kindliness from the king, including a royal escort. The minute he was gone those courtly, crafty heads all got together and told the king that most likely the man was merely a boaster, but, lest he might have discovered territory for Spain, why not hurriedly send out a Portuguese fleet to seize the new islands ere Spain could make good her claim? Some even whispered something about a.s.sa.s.sination.

Let us hope that King John turned a deaf ear to them. At any rate, Columbus was not a.s.sa.s.sinated, perhaps because he thought it safer to trust to his battered little _Nina_ than to cross Portugal by land.

Hurrying aboard, he hoisted anchor and started for Palos.

It was on a Friday that Columbus had left Palos; it was likewise on Friday that he had left the Canaries after mending the _Pinta's_ rudder; on Friday he had taken leave of the little settlement of La Navidad away back in Haiti, and now it was on Friday, the 15th of March, that he dropped anchor in the friendly port of Palos.

For the astounded population it was as if the dead had come to life.

Every family whose relations had accompanied the expedition had given the sailors up for lost; and lo! here was the man who had led them to their death, bringing a caravel into port. True, forty of the men had been left across the water, and as many more perhaps were under it. Only one s.h.i.+p had come back; but it brought with it the amazing proof that the Atlantic could be crossed! Shops were closed, everybody went to church and rendered praise; bells pealed forth, and the "mad Genoese"

was the greatest hero that ever lived; then, as if to give the scene a happy ending, just before sunset of that same famous day, the _Pinta_, which had _not_ been s.h.i.+pwrecked off the Azores at all, also sailed into the Rio Tinto. Thus did the punishment of Palos end in her witnessing the greatest day of the fifteenth century.

CHAPTER XII

DAYS OF TRIUMPH

Before following our happy Admiral into the presence of the king and queen, let us remain in Palos a little moment with that other courageous navigator, Martin Alonzo Pinzon. Poor Martin was not happy; in fact, he was very miserable. He had slunk from his storm-battered caravel and into his house without saying a word to any one. His wife, overjoyed at seeing him, threw her arms around him.

"Oh, my good Martin!" she exclaimed, "we were mourning you as dead!

Cristobal Colon believed that you and your _Pinta_ had gone to the bottom off the Azores!"

"I only wish I had!" groaned Martin, dejectedly. "I only wish I had!"

Perhaps you think he was repenting too deeply of that insubordination off the coast of Cuba, 'way back in November. No, it was not that; Martin had another matter to regret now, more's the pity; for he was a good sailor and a brave, energetic man, ready to risk his life and his money in the discovery. He knew that, next to Columbus, he had played the most important part in the discovery, and he now realized that he was not to share the honor in what he considered the right proportion.

He felt ill-used; moreover his health was shattered.