EVENTS OF THE FIRST VOYAGE
“In nomine D.N. Jesu Christi--Friday, August 3, 1492, at eight
o’clock we started from the bar of Saltes. We went with a strong
sea breeze sixty miles,--[Columbus reckoned in Italian miles, of
which four = one league.]--which are fifteen leagues, towards the
south, until sunset: afterwards to the south-west and to the south,
quarter south-west, which was the way to the Canaries.”
[The account of Columbus’s first voyage is taken from a Journal
written by himself, but which in its original form does not exist.
Las Casas had it in his possession, but as he regarded it (no doubt
with justice) as too voluminous and discursive to be interesting, he
made an abridged edition, in which the exact words of Columbus were
sometimes quoted, but which for the most part is condensed into a
narrative in the third person. This abridged Journal, consisting of
seventy-six closely written folios, was first published by
Navarrette in 1825. When Las Casas wrote his ‘Historie,’ however,
he appears here and there to have restored sections of the original
Journal into the abridged one; and many of these restorations are of
importance. If the whole account of his voyage written by Columbus
himself were available in its exact form I would print it here; but
as it is not, I think it better to continue my narrative, simply
using the Journal of Las Casas as a document.]
With these rousing words the Journal of Columbus’s voyage begins; and
they sound a salt and mighty chord which contains the true diapason of
the symphony of his voyages. There could not have been a more fortunate
beginning, with clear weather and a calm sea, and the wind in exactly
the right quarter. On Saturday and Sunday the same conditions held, so
there was time and opportunity for the three very miscellaneous ships’
companies to shake down into something like order, and for all the
elaborate discipline of sea life to be arranged and established; and we
may employ the interval by noting what aids to navigation Columbus had
at his disposal.
The chief instrument was the astrolabe, which was an improvement on the
primitive quadrant then in use for taking the altitude of the sun. The
astrolabe, it will be remembered, had been greatly improved, by Martin
Behaim and the Portuguese Commission in 1840--[1440 D.W.]; and it was
this instrument, a simplification of the astrolabe used in astronomy
ashore, that Columbus chiefly used in getting his solar altitudes. As
will be seen from the illustration, its broad principle was that of a
metal circle with a graduated circumference and two arms pivoted in the
centre. It was made as heavy as possible; and in using it the observer
sat on deck with his back against the mainmast and with his left hand
held up the instrument by the ring at the top. The long arm was moved
round until the two sights fixed upon it were on with the sun. The point
where the other arm then cut the circle gave the altitude. In
conjunction with this instrument were used the tables of solar
declination compiled by Regiomontanus, and covering the sun’s declination
between the years 1475 and 1566.
The compass in Columbus’s day existed, so far as all essentials are
concerned, as it exists to-day. Although it lacked the refinements
introduced by Lord Kelvin it was swung in double-cradles, and had the
thirty-two points painted upon a card. The discovery of the compass, and
even of the lodestone, are things wrapt in obscurity; but the lodestone
had been known since at least the eleventh century, and the compass
certainly since the thirteenth. With the compass were used the sea
charts, which were simply maps on a rather larger and more exact scale
than the land maps of the period. There were no soundings or currents
marked on the old charts, which were drawn on a plane projection; and
they can have been of little--practical use to navigators except in the
case of coasts which were elaborately charted on a large scale. The
chart of Columbus, in so far as it was concerned with the ocean westward
of the Azores, can of course have contained nothing except the
conjectured islands or lands which he hoped to find; possibly the land
seen by the shipwrecked pilot may have been marked on it, and his failure
to find that land may have been the reason why, as we shall see, he
changed his course to the southward on the 7th of October. It must be
remembered that Columbus’s conception of the world was that of the
Portuguese Mappemonde of 1490, a sketch of which is here reproduced.
This conception of the world excluded the Pacific Ocean and the continent
of North and South America, and made it reasonable to suppose that any
one who sailed westward long enough from Spain would ultimately reach
Cathay and the Indies. Behaim’s globe, which was completed in the year
1492, represented the farthest point that geographical knowledge had
reached previous to the discoveries of Columbus, and on it is shown the
island of Cipango or Japan.
By far the most important element in the navigation of Columbus, in so
far as estimating his position was concerned, was what is known as
“dead-reckoning” that is to say, the computation of the distance
travelled by the ship through the water. At present this distance is
measured by a patent log, which in its commonest form is a
propeller-shaped instrument trailed through the water at the end of a
long wire or cord the inboard end of which is attached to a registering
clock. On being dragged through the water the propeller spins round and
the twisting action is communicated by the cord to the clock-work
machinery which counts the miles. In the case of powerful steamers and
in ordinary weather dead-reckoning is very accurately calculated by the
number of revolutions of the propellers recorded in the engine-room; and
a device not unlike this was known to the Romans in the time of the
Republic. They attached small wheels about four feet in diameter to the
sides of their ships; the passage of the water turned the wheels, and a
very simple gearing was arranged which threw a pebble into a tallypot at
each revolution. This device, however, seems to have been abandoned or
forgotten in Columbus’s day, when there was no more exact method of
estimating dead-reckoning than the primitive one of spitting over the
side in calm weather, or at other times throwing some object into the
water and estimating the rate of progress by its speed in passing the
ship’s side. The hour-glass, which was used to get the multiple for
long distances, was of course the only portable time measurer available
for Columbus. These, with a rough knowledge of astronomy, and the
taking of the altitude of the polar star, were the only known means for
ascertaining the position of his ship at sea.
The first mishap occurred on Monday, August 6th, when the Pinta carried
away her rudder. The Pinta, it will be remembered, was commanded by
Martin Alonso Pinzon, and was owned by Gomaz Rascon and Christoval
Quintero, who had been at the bottom of some of the troubles ashore; and
it was thought highly probable that these two rascals had something to do
with the mishap, which they had engineered in the hope that their vessel
would be left behind at the Canaries. Martin Alonso, however, proved a
man of resource, and rigged up a sort of steering gear with ropes. There
was a choppy sea, and Columbus could not bring his own vessel near enough
to render any assistance, though he doubtless bawled his directions to
Pinzon, and looked with a troubled eye on the commotion going on on board
the Pinta. On the next day the jury-rigged rudder carried away again,
and was again repaired, but it was decided to try and make the island of
Lanzarote in the Canaries, and to get another caravel to replace the
Pinta. All through the next day the Santa Maria and the Nina had to
shorten sail in order not to leave the damaged Pinta behind; the three
captains had a discussion and difference of opinion as to where they
were; but Columbus, who was a genius at dead-reckoning, proved to be
right in his surmise, and they came in sight of the Canaries on Thursday
morning, August 9th.
Columbus left Pinzon on the Grand Canary with orders to try to obtain a
caravel there, while he sailed on to Gomera, which he reached on Sunday
night, with a similar purpose. As he was unsuccessful he sent a message
by a boat that was going back to tell Pinzon to beach the Pinta and
repair her rudder; and having spent more days in fruitless search for a
vessel, he started back to join Pinzon on August 23rd. During the night
he passed the Peak of Teneriffe, which was then in eruption. The repairs
to the Pinta, doubtless in no way expedited by Messrs. Rascon and
Quintera, took longer than had been expected; it was found necessary to
make an entirely new rudder for her; and advantage was taken of the delay
to make some alterations in the rig of the Nina, which was changed from a
latine rig to a square rig, so that she might be better able to keep up
with the others. September had come before these two jobs were
completed; and on the 2nd of September the three ships sailed for Gomera,
the most westerly of the islands, where they anchored in the north-east
bay. The Admiral was in a great hurry to get away from the islands and
from the track of merchant ships, for he had none too much confidence in
the integrity of his crews, which were already murmuring and finding
every mishap a warning sign from God. He therefore only stayed long
enough at Gomera to take in wood and water and provisions, and set sail
from that island on the 6th of September.
The wind fell lighter and lighter, and on Friday the little fleet lay
becalmed within sight of Ferro. But on Saturday evening north-east airs
sprang up again, and they were able to make nine leagues of westing. On
Sunday they had lost sight of land; and at thus finding their ships three
lonely specks in the waste of ocean the crew lost heart and began to
lament. There was something like a panic, many of the sailors bursting
into tears and imploring Columbus to take them home again. To us it may
seem a rather childish exhibition; but it must be remembered that these
sailors were unwillingly embarked upon a voyage which they believed would
only lead to death and disaster. The bravest of us to-day, if he found
himself press-ganged on board a balloon and embarked upon a journey, the
object of which was to land upon Mars or the moon, might find it
difficult to preserve his composure on losing sight of the earth; and the
parallel is not too extreme to indicate the light in which their present
enterprise must have appeared to many of the Admiral’s crew.
Columbus gave orders to the captains of the other two ships that, in case
of separation, they were to sail westward for 700 leagues-that being the
distance at which he evidently expected to find land--and there to lie-to
from midnight until morning. On this day also, seeing the temper of the
sailors, he began one of the crafty stratagems upon which he prided
himself, and which were often undoubtedly of great use to him; he kept
two reckonings, one a true one, which he entered in his log, and one a
false one, by means of which the distance run was made out to be less
than what it actually was, so that in case he could not make land as soon
as he hoped the crew would not be unduly discouraged. In other words, he
wished to have a margin at the other end, for he did not want a mutiny
when he was perhaps within a few leagues of his destination. On this day
he notes that the raw and inexperienced seamen were giving trouble in
other ways, and steering very badly, continually letting the ship’s
head fall off to the north; and many must have been the angry remonstrances
from the captain to the man at the wheel. Altogether rather a trying day
for Christopher, who surely has about as much on his hands as ever mortal
had; but he knows how to handle ships and how to handle sailors, and so
long as this ten-knot breeze lasts, he can walk the high poop of the
Santa Maria with serenity, and snap his fingers at the dirty rabble
below.
On Monday they made sixty leagues, the Admiral duly announcing
forty-eight; on Tuesday twenty leagues, published as sixteen; and on
this day they saw a large piece of a mast which had evidently belonged
to a ship of at least 120 tons burden. This was not an altogether
cheerful sight for the eighteen souls on board the little Nina, who
wondered ruefully what was going to happen to them of forty tons when
ships three times their size had evidently been unable to live in this
abominable sea!
On Thursday, September 13th, when Columbus took his observations, he made
a great scientific discovery, although he did not know it at the time.
He noticed that the needle of the compass was declining to the west of
north instead of having a slight declination to the east of north, as all
mariners knew it to have. In other words, he had passed the line of true
north and of no variation, and must therefore have been in latitude
28 deg. N. and longitude 29 deg. 37’ W. of Greenwich. With his usual
secrecy he said nothing about it; perhaps he was waiting to see if the
pilots on the other ships had noticed it, but apparently they were not so
exact in their observations as he was. On the next day, Friday, the wind
falling a little lighter, they, made only twenty leagues. “Here the
persons on the caravel Nina said they had seen a jay and a ringtail, and
these birds never come more than twenty-five leagues from land at most.”
--Unhappy “persons on the Nina”! Nineteen souls, including the captain,
afloat in a very small boat, and arguing God knows what from the fact
that a jay and a ringtail never went more than twenty-five leagues from
land!--The next day also was not without its incident; for on Saturday
evening they saw a meteor, or “marvellous branch of fire” falling from
the serene violet of the sky into the sea.
They were now well within the influence of the trade-wind, which in these
months blows steadily from the east, and maintains an exquisite and balmy
climate. Even the Admiral, never very communicative about his
sensations, deigns to mention them here, and is reported to have said
that “it was a great pleasure to enjoy the morning; that nothing was
lacking except to hear the nightingales, and that the weather was like
April in Andalusia.” On this day they saw some green grasses, which the
Admiral considered must have floated off from some island; “not the
continent,” says the Admiral, whose theories are not to be disturbed by a
piece of grass, “because I make the continental land farther onward.”
The crew, ready to take the most depressing and pessimistic view of
everything, considered that the lumps of grass belonged to rocks or
submerged lands, and murmured disparaging things about the Admiral.
As a matter of fact these grasses were masses of seaweed detached from
the Sargasso Sea, which they were soon to enter.
On Monday, September 17th, four days after Columbus had noted it, the
other pilots noted the declination of the needle, which they had found on
taking the position of the North star. They did not like it; and
Columbus, whose knowledge of astronomy came to his aid, ordered them to
take the position of the North star at dawn again, which they did, and
found that the needles were true. He evidently thought it useless to
communicate to them his scientific speculations, so he explained to them
that it was the North star which was moving in its circle, and not the
compass. One is compelled to admit that in these little matters of
deceit the Admiral always shone. To-day, among the seaweed on the ship’s
side, he picked up a little crayfish, which he kept for several days,
presumably in a bottle in his cabin; and perhaps afterwards ate.
So for several days this calm and serene progress westward was
maintained. The trade-wind blew steady and true, balmy and warm also;
the sky was cloudless, except at morning and evening dusk; and there were
for scenery those dazzling expanses of sea and sky, and those gorgeous
hues of dawn and sunset, which are only to be found in the happy
latitudes. The things that happened to them, the bits of seaweed and
fishes that they saw in the water, the birds that flew around them, were
observed with a wondering attention and wistful yearning after their
meaning such as is known only to children and to sailors adventuring on
uncharted seas. The breezes were milder even than those of the Canaries,
and the waters always less salt; and the men, forgetting their fears of
the monsters of the Sea of Darkness, would bathe alongside in the limpid
blue. The little crayfish was a “sure indication of land”; a tunny fish,
killed by the company on the Nina, was taken to be an indication from the
west, “where I hope in that exalted God, in whose hands are all
victories, that land will very soon appear”; they saw another ringtail,
“which is not accustomed to sleep on the sea”; two pelicans came to the
ship, “which was an indication that land was near”; a large dark cloud
appeared to the north, “which is a sign that land is near”; they saw one
day a great deal of grass, “although the previous day they had not seen
any”; they took a bird with their hands which was like a jay; “it was a
river bird and not a sea bird”; they saw a whale, “which is an indication
that they are near land, because they always remain near it”; afterwards
a pelican came from the west-north-west and went to the south-east,
“which was an indication that it left land to the west-north-west,
because these birds sleep on land and in the morning they come to the sea
in search of food, and do not go twenty leagues from land.” And “at dawn
two or three small land birds came singing to the ships; and afterwards
disappeared before sunrise.”
Such beautiful signs, interpreted by the light of their wishes, were the
events of this part of the voyage. In the meantime, they have their
little differences. Martin Alonso Pinzon, on Tuesday, September 18th,
speaks from the Pinta to the Santa Maria, and says that he will not wait
for the others, but will go and make the land, since it is so near; but
apparently he does not get very far out of the way, the wind which wafts
him wafting also the Santa Maria and the Nina.
On September the 19th there was a comparison of dead-reckonings. The
Nina’s pilot made it 440 leagues from the Canaries, the Pinta’s 420
leagues, and the Admiral’s pilot, doubtless instructed by the Admiral,
made it 400. On Sunday the 23rd they were getting into the seaweed and
finding crayfish again; and there being no reasonable cause for complaint
a scare was got up among the crew on an exceedingly ingenious point. The
wind having blown steadily from the east for a matter of three weeks,
they said that it would never blow in any other direction, and that they
would never be able to get back to Spain; but later in the afternoon the
sea got up from the westward, as though in answer to their fears, and as
if to prove that somewhere or other ahead of them there was a west wind
blowing; and the Admiral remarks that “the high sea was very necessary to
me, as it came to pass once before in the time when the Jews went out of
Egypt with Moses, who took them from captivity.” And indeed there was
something of Moses in this man, who thus led his little rabble from a
Spanish seaport out across the salt wilderness of the ocean, and
interpreted the signs for them, and stood between them and the powers of
vengeance and terror that were set about their uncharted path.
But it appears that the good Admiral had gone just a little too far in
interpreting everything they saw as a sign that they were approaching
land; for his miserable crew, instead of being comforted by this fact,
now took the opportunity to be angry because the signs were not
fulfilled. The more the signs pointed to their nearness to land, the
more they began to murmur and complain because they did not see it. They
began to form together in little groups--always an ominous sign at sea
--and even at night those who were not on deck got together in murmuring
companies. Some, of the things that they said, indeed, were not very far
from the truth; among others, that it was “a great madness on their part
to venture their lives in following out the madness of a foreigner who to
make himself a great lord had risked his life, and now saw himself and
all of them in great exigency and was deceiving so many people.” They
remembered that his proposition, or “dream” as they not inaptly call it,
had been contradicted by many great and lettered men; and then followed
some very ominous words indeed. They held
[The substance of these murmurings is not in the abridged Journal,
but is given by Las Casas under the date of September 24.]
that “it was enough to excuse them from whatever might be done in the
matter that they had arrived where man had never dared to navigate, and
that they were not obliged to go to the end of the world, especially as,
if they delayed more, they would not be able to have provisions to
return.” In short, the best thing would be to throw him into the sea
some night, and make a story that he had fallen, into the water while
taking the position of a star with his astrolabe; and no one would ask
any questions, as he was a foreigner. They carried this talk to the
Pinzons, who listened to them; after all, we have not had to wait long
for trouble with the Pinzons! “Of these Pinzons Christopher Columbus
complains greatly, and of the trouble they had given him.”
There is only one method of keeping down mutiny at sea, and of preserving
discipline. It is hard enough where the mutineers are all on one ship
and the commander’s officers are loyal to him; but when they are
distributed over three ships, the captains of two of which are willing to
listen to them, the problem becomes grave indeed. We have no details of
how Columbus quieted them; but it is probable that his strong personality
awed them, while his clever and plausible words persuaded them. He was
the best sailor of them all and they knew it; and in a matter of this
kind the best and strongest man always wins, and can only in a pass of
this kind maintain his authority by proving his absolute right to it.
So he talked and persuaded and bullied and encouraged and cheered them;
“laughing with them,” as Las Casas says, “while he was weeping at heart.”
Probably as a result of this unpleasantness there was on the following
day, Tuesday, September 25th, a consultation between: Martin Alonso
Pinzon and the Admiral. The Santa Maria closed up with the Pinta, and a
chart was passed over on a cord. There were islands marked on the chart
in this region, possibly the islands reported by the shipwrecked pilot,
possibly the island of Antilla; and Pinzon said he thought that they were
somewhere in the region of them, and the Admiral said that he thought so
too. There was a deal of talk and pricking of positions on charts; and
then, just as the sun was setting, Martin Alonso, standing on the stern
of the Pinta, raised a shout and said that he saw land; asking
(business-like Martin) at the same time for the reward which had been
promised to the first one who should see land: They all saw it, a low
cloud to the southwest, apparently about twenty-five leagues distant;
and honest Christopher, in the emotion of the moment, fell on his knees
in gratitude to God. The crimson sunset of that evening saw the rigging
of the three ships black with eager figures, and on the quiet air were
borne the sounds of the Gloria in Excelsis, which was repeated by each
ship’s company.
The course was altered to the south-west, and they sailed in that
direction seventeen leagues during the night; but in the morning there
was no land to be seen. The sunset clouds that had so often deceived the
dwellers in the Canaries and the Azores, and that in some form or other
hover at times upon all eagerly scanned horizons, had also deceived
Columbus and every one of his people; but they created a diversion which
was of help to the Admiral in getting things quiet again, for which in
his devout soul he thanked the merciful providence of God.
And so they sailed on again on a westward course. They were still in the
Sargasso Sea, and could watch the beautiful golden floating mass of the
gulf-weed, covered with berries and showing, a little way under the clear
water, bright green leaves. The sea was as smooth as the river in
Seville; there were frigate pelicans flying about, and John Dorys in the
water; several gulls were seen; and a youth on board the Nina killed a
pelican with a stone. On Monday, October 1st, there was a heavy shower
of rain; and Juan de la Cosa, Columbus’s pilot, came up to him with the
doleful information that they had run 578 leagues from the island of
Ferro. According to Christopher’s doctored reckoning the distance
published was 584 leagues; but his true reckoning, about which he said
nothing to a soul, showed that they had gone 707 leagues. The breeze
still kept steady and the sea calm; and day after day, with the temper of
the crews getting uglier and uglier, the three little vessels forged
westward through the blue, weed-strewn waters, their tracks lying
undisturbed far behind them. On Saturday, October 6th, the Admiral was
signalled by Alonso Pinzon, who wanted to change the course to the
south-west. It appears that, having failed to find the, islands of the
shipwrecked pilot, they were now making for the island of Cipango, and
that this request of Pinzon had something to do with some theory of his
that they had better turn to the south to reach that island; while
Columbus’s idea now evidently was--to push straight on to the mainland of
Cathay. Columbus had his way; but the grumbling and murmuring in creased
among the crew.
On the next day, Sunday, and perhaps just in time to avert another
outbreak, there was heard the sound of a gun, and the watchers on the
Santa Maria and the Pinta saw a puff of smoke coming from the Nina, which
was sailing ahead, and hoisting a flag on her masthead. This was the
signal agreed upon for the discovery of land, and it seemed as though
their search was at last at an end. But it was a mistake. In the
afternoon the land that the people of the Nina thought they had seen had
disappeared, and the horizon was empty except for a great flight of birds
that was seen passing from the north to the south-west. The Admiral,
remembering how often birds had guided the Portuguese in the islands in
their possessions, argued that the birds were either going to sleep on
land or were perhaps flying from winter, which he assumed to be
approaching in the land from whence they came. He therefore altered.
his course from west to west-south-west. This course was entered upon an
hour before sunset and continued throughout the night and the next day.
“The sea was like the river of Seville,” says the Admiral; “the breezes
as soft as at Seville in April, and very fragrant.” More birds were to
be seen, and there were many signs of land; but the crew, so often
disappointed in their hopeful interpretations of the phenomena
surrounding them, kept on murmuring and complaining. On Tuesday, October
9th, the wind chopped round a little and the course was altered, first to
south-west and then at evening to a point north of west; and the journal
records that “all night they heard birds passing.” The next day Columbus
resumed the west-southwesterly course and made a run of fifty-nine
leagues; but the mariners broke out afresh in their discontent, and
declined to go any farther. They complained of the long voyage, and
expressed their views strongly to the commander. But they had to deal
with a man who was determined to begin with, and who saw in the many
signs of land that they had met with only an additional inducement to go
on. He told them firmly that with or without their consent he intended
to go on until he had found the land he had come to seek.
The next day, Thursday, October 11th, was destined to be for ever
memorable in the history of the world. It began ordinarily enough, with
a west-south-west wind blowing fresh, and on a sea rather rougher than
they had had lately. The people on the Santa Maria saw some petrels and
a green branch in the water; the Pinta saw a reed and two small sticks
carved with iron, and one or two other pieces of reeds and grasses that
had been grown on shore, as well as a small board. Most wonderful of
all, the people of the Nina saw “a little branch full of dog roses”; and
it would be hard to estimate the sweet significance of this fragment of a
wild plant from land to the senses of men who had been so long upon a sea
from which they had thought never to land alive. The day drew to its
close; and after nightfall, according to their custom, the crew of the
ships repeated the Salve Regina. Afterwards the Admiral addressed the
people and sailors of his ship, “very merry and pleasant,” reminding them
of the favours God had shown them with regard to the weather, and begging
them, as they hoped to see land very soon, within an hour or so, to keep
an extra good look-out that night from the forward forecastle; and adding
to the reward of an annuity of 10,000 maravedis, offered by the Queen to
whoever should sight land first, a gift on his own account of a silk
doublet.
The moon was in its third quarter, and did not rise until eleven o’clock.
The first part of the night was dark, and there was only a faint
starlight into which the anxious eyes of the look-out men peered from the
forecastles of the three ships. At ten o’clock Columbus was walking on
the poop of his vessel, when he suddenly saw a light right ahead. The
light seemed to rise and fall as though it were a candle or a lantern
held in some one’s hand and waved up and down. The Admiral called Pedro
Gutierrez to him and asked him whether he saw anything; and he also saw
the light. Then he sent for Rodrigo Sanchez and asked him if he saw the
light; but he did not, perhaps because from where he was standing it was
occulted. But the others were left in no doubt, for the light was seen
once or twice more, and to the eyes of the anxious little group standing
on the high stern deck of the Santa Maria it appeared unmistakably. The
Nina was not close at hand, and the Pinta had gone on in front hoping to
make good her mistake; but there was no doubt on board the Santa Maria
that the light which they had seen was a light like a candle or a torch
waved slowly up and down. They lost the light again; and as the hours in
that night stole away and the moon rose slowly in the sky the seamen on
the Santa Maria must have almost held their breath.
At about two o’clock in the morning the sound of a gun was heard from the
Pinta, who could be seen hoisting her flags; Rodrigo de Triana, the
look-out on board of her, having reported land in sight; and there sure
enough in the dim light lay the low shores of an island a few miles ahead
of them.
Immediately all sails were lowered, except a small trysail which enabled
the ships to lie-to and stand slowly off and on, waiting for the
daylight. I suppose there was never a longer night than that; but dawn
came at last, flooding the sky with lemon and saffron and scarlet and
orange, until at last the pure gold of the sun glittered on the water.
And when it rose it showed the sea-weary mariners an island lying in the
blue sea ahead of them: the island of Guanahani; San Salvador, as it was
christened by Columbus; or, to give it its modern name, Watling’s Island.