poems of Petrarca, which had been given him by Doña Christina. As he
rode along he read the soft lines to Don Felipe, who did not understand
Italian so well as Diego, whose native tongue it was. Diego became so
absorbed in his reading that he let the reins lie upon his horse's
neck, while Don Felipe, equally careless, leaned over, taking one foot
out of the stirrup in order to look at the page Diego was reading.
Suddenly, Don Felipe's horse stepped into a deep mud-puddle in the
road and came down on his knees. The next thing Don Felipe knew he was
floundering in the puddle. Meanwhile, Diego's horse made a spring to
cross the puddle, and Diego, quite unprepared for it, slipped off and
went down, even more ignominiously than Don Felipe, on his back with
his heels in the air. In an instant both scrambled to their feet, their
faces scarlet with mortification, but so covered with mud that their
color was unknown. The horses stood still, as if pitying them, and
the whole party, led by the Daredevil Knight, burst into laughter at
their predicament. Their chagrin was increased by the Daredevil Knight
sarcastically advising them to change their horses for old steady-going
mules such as ladies rode in traveling. In vain Diego and Don Felipe
strove to get the mud off their faces, out of their hair, and from
their clothes. Their bath in the mud-puddle by no means improved their
appearance. They mounted and rode on, therefore, unable to reply to
the jokes and good-natured taunts of the rest of the party. They were
exceedingly careful after that and were not again unhorsed, nor did
Diego again tie the book of his favorite poet to his saddle-bow.
Every moment of the journey was enjoyed, however, by the two youths,
in spite of their misadventure in the mud-puddle. They liked the rapid
travel in the soft May air, and at night, instead of sleeping at the
inns like their elders, they wrapped themselves in their blankets and
cloaks and slept in the open under the palpitating stars. They talked
of many things in those two quiet nights spent on the road. They were
studying astronomy, and they pictured to themselves the ship of the
Admiral ploughing its way along into the wide, unknown ocean, and
guided by the planets in their courses. They mutually resolved that
when the Admiral went upon his second voyage they would take no denial
and would go with him.
At last, at nightfall on a warm May evening, they reached La Rabida.
Once more Diego and Don Felipe slept in the little tower room and
recalled, before they slept, the great and exciting events which
had happened since they left that quiet place seven months back. In
the morning they waked early, because on that day at ten o'clock
proclamation was to be made from the steps of the Church of St.
George in Palos of the commands of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella
concerning the voyage.
By sunrise the whole of Palos, of the neighboring towns of Moguer
and Huelva, and the country-side with its towns and villages, was
astir, palpitating with excitement. For them the voyage meant much.
Each family feared and dreaded that some of the adventurous spirits
among them would want to go upon the expedition. It was expected that
the ships would be found and manned and made ready to sail within a
fortnight.
The seafaring people of the Andalusian coast were brave and
adventurous; but the proposed voyage appalled them. Never in the
history of the world had anything been known like it. The mariners
could face ordinary and even extreme danger: but to set forth into
the boundless wastes of unknown seas; to meet mysterious dangers,
perhaps to be engulfed in great abysses; or to sail on and on until
they died of thirst and starvation; to find land, it might be, peopled
with savages who would murder them on landing; to encounter frightful
monsters on land and sea which might devour them--these and many
other horrors terrified the souls of the bravest sailors of the time.
Only once in a great period of time a man is born with the stupendous
courage of Christopher Columbus.
The whole population of the region had begun pouring into Palos very
early in the morning. All classes were represented--mariners and
peasants, cavaliers on horseback, great nobles with their retinues,
merchants and ecclesiastics on mule-back--all eager to hear the royal
proclamation. It was known that the sovereigns had given orders to
impress men and ships, and no man knew whether he or some of his family
might not be impressed for the voyage or be compelled to furnish the
ships or any part of their equipment.
At half-past nine in the brilliant May morning the cavalcade was to set
forth from La Rabida; but long before that Diego and Don Felipe, with
Brother Lawrence carrying the little Fernando, had started for Palos
and had taken their places on the porch of the little stone Church of
St. George. Diego held the little Fernando's hand with a feeling in his
heart that for the first time he was to take his father's place toward
the little lad.
The vast and excited multitudes that thronged about the church and
crowded all the streets leading to it were in themselves a great
picture.
A strange hush fell upon all when the head of the cavalcade from La
Rabida appeared at the top of the street leading to the church. First
rode the Admiral, wearing the costume of black satin with the black
cloak in which he had attended the Queen, and with his sword at his
side. On his right rode Alonzo de Quintanilla, the Queen's accountant,
who was to make the proclamation in the name of King Ferdinand and
Queen Isabella. On the Admiral's left rode his steady friend, Juan
Perez, Prior of the monastery. Behind them rode other persons of
distinction, including the three Pinzon brothers, wealthy ship-owners,
Dr. Garcia, and the pilot Rodriguez, who had been the messenger sent by
Juan Perez to Queen Isabella more than nine years before.
The Admiral and his friends dismounted, and were received by the mayor
and other officials of the little town of Palos. They then took their
places upon the porch of the church; a fanfare of trumpets rang out;
and the mayor, commanding silence in the great multitude, ordered
attention and obedience to the orders of their Majesties King Ferdinand
and Queen Isabella, to be read by Alonzo de Quintanilla, their deputy
on that occasion. Then De Quintanilla, standing next the Admiral, read
in a ringing voice the commands of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.
The authorities of Palos were to have two caravels ready for sea within
ten days after this notice, and to place them and their crews at the
disposal of Columbus, who was empowered to procure and fit out a third
vessel. The crews of all three were to receive the ordinary wages of
seamen employed in armed vessels and to be given four months' pay in
advance. They were to sail in such direction as Columbus, under the
royal authority, should command, and were to obey him in all things,
with merely one stipulation, that neither he nor they were to go to
St. George la Mina, on the coast of Guinea, nor any other of the
lately discovered possessions of Portugal. A certificate of their
good conduct, signed by Columbus, was to be the discharge of their
obligation to the crown.
Orders were likewise read, addressed to the public authorities and
the people of all ranks and conditions in the maritime borders of
Andalusia, commanding them to furnish supplies and assistance of all
kinds at reasonable prices for the fitting out of the vessels; and
penalties were denounced on such as should cause any impediment. No
duties were to be exacted for any articles furnished to the vessels;
and all civil and criminal processes against the person or property of
any individual engaged in the expedition were to be suspended during
his absence and for two months after his return.
When the reading was finished it was received with a deep and awful
silence by the listening throngs. The mayor of Palos broke this
stillness by making the usual official announcement of his readiness
to obey the orders of the King and the Queen. Then, with ceremonious
farewells, the Admiral and his party, joined by Diego and Don Felipe
and Brother Lawrence with the little Fernando, set out toward La Rabida.
As they passed through the crowded streets they could not but observe
the fear and dismay which had taken possession of the people. Not until
then had they fully realized the desperate nature of the proposed
voyage, and the knowledge that force would be used if necessary in
order to provide vessels and crews made each one fear that he might be
obliged to go upon this appalling voyage. The men of Palos, Moguer,
and Huelva, and indeed all that part of the Andalusian coast, were
among the boldest mariners of their day; but it was given to but one
man, and that man Columbus, to advance without fear into the trackless
and unknown ocean. The time, ten days, seemed frightfully short, and
had been made so purposely that the people should not have time to
become panic-stricken. But panic-stricken they were; and at the first
moment of triumph to Columbus, when he stood, in the May morning, on
the steps of the Church of St. George, began for him another period of
new and dreadful trial which lasted almost three months.
Never had Diego understood the unparalleled steadfastness of his father
as in those trying days of La Rabida. Every day some new difficulty
arose. Vessels suitable for the service mysteriously disappeared. The
sailors and seafaring people of the coast said:
"We are not cowards, but we are not bold enough to sail where no keel
has ever before floated, where we know neither winds nor tides nor the
country for which we are steering, except that it is on the other end
of the world. We can die but once, and we would rather die at home."
The feeling against Columbus grew so strong that when he appeared in
the streets of Palos the people fled from him. Even on those rare
occasions when Diego and Don Felipe had the privilege of walking in the
town in the evening with the Admiral, and on the seashore, Diego was
pointed at, the people saying:
"Poor lad; little good will it do him to be a royal page at court
for a while! He is already an orphan, and so will the little boy be
fatherless, and he only seven years old."
But a handful of brave and intelligent men remained staunch to the
Admiral, especially the Pinzons, the Prior, Juan Perez, the pilot
Rodriguez, and Dr. Garcia. They had not the power, however, to compel
compliance with the commands of the Spanish sovereigns. When the July
days came there were still neither ships nor men provided, and instead
of being able to start early and to return before the winter set in,
as the Admiral confidently hoped, it looked as if the whole summer
would be gone before the little squadron could be assembled. Early in
July Queen Isabella, hearing of the difficulties in the way, sent an
officer of her household, Juan de Peñalosa, with still more peremptory
orders; but these were no better obeyed than the first. Then Martin
Alonzo Pinzon and his brothers, Vicente and Francisco, all experienced
seamen and wealthy ship-owners, accepted an offer to go as commanders
under the Admiral and to furnish a share of the equipment. This had
some effect in overcoming the fear and opposition, and at last three
small vessels were secured--the Santa Maria, which the Admiral chose
for his flag-ship, the Pinta, and the Niña. Two of these were caravels,
open boats with a high poop and stern, and only one of the vessels was
decked. Even then there were fresh perplexities. The calkers among the
impressed crews did the work badly of calking the ships, and when they
were ordered to do it over again they deserted in a body. The Pinzons
and a few other high-hearted men were inspired by the dauntless courage
of the Admiral; and by almost superhuman efforts, through wearisome
nights and days, the three vessels were put in readiness and a hundred
and twenty men all told, including a royal notary, a physician, and a
surgeon, were secured by the first of August.
In all the anxieties of those terrible preceding months Diego and Don
Felipe had apparently led the same secluded and studious life which
they had begun in the autumn, for they had resumed their studies under
Fray Piña; but they lived in a tumult of soul which nothing but strong
wills and a stern discipline could have controlled. Each morning they
saw persons coming to the monastery to confer with the Admiral, to
protest, to complain, to deceive him, and to defy him. Each evening
they saw him weary, but not discouraged; saddened, but unshaken of
soul. The two youths, from the door of the tower room opening upon the
parapet, could see much of what was passing, and it was of a kind to
excite and agitate them. They came to feel even a sort of gratitude
to Fray Piña for the hours of study so rigidly maintained, in which
they could for a little while forget some of the painful things
surrounding them. A change was perceptible after the Pinzons took the
matter in hand; but there was only a melancholy acquiescence, a dogged
submission, in the faces of those who were forced to go upon the voyage
of deathless glory, so little do men know where honor lies.
The Admiral had fixed upon Wednesday, the first of August, as the
day to sail; but on that day it fell dead calm, and there was no
prospect of going to sea. On Thursday it remained calm until late in
the afternoon, when a breeze sprung up that grew stronger as night
fell and gave promise of continuance. Then the Admiral sent forth the
order that the ships, which lay outside the bar of Saltes would sail on
Friday morning, half an hour before sunrise. Many of the sailors were
superstitious about sailing on the Friday; but the Admiral's strong
soul was above such petty and groundless fears, and his order was that
every man of the crews should report on board by daybreak. All through
that agitating day Diego did not see the Admiral except when they
supped together in the refectory, where no word was spoken, as usual,
during the meal, except for the reading of the Scriptures. Never had
the Admiral appeared calmer or more unshaken. When the simple meal was
over and all were leaving the refectory, the Admiral called Diego and
said:
"My son, to-night at nine o'clock come to me in my chamber. There will
I speak with you."
All through that day Diego had felt as if he were in a dream. He
had not the least doubt of his father's return, but when the moment
of parting came he felt all the sharpness of its pain. Not even Don
Felipe could comfort him then. He spent the time from supper until nine
o'clock sitting on the parapet outside the tower room, his eyes fixed
upon the far-off ocean, illuminated by a great white moon. Don Felipe
sat within the room, his heart full of sympathy for Diego, who said
nothing to him; but when his eye fell upon his friend a little sense of
comfort stole into his heart. It was Don Felipe who came out upon the
parapet and said:
"Diego, it is close to nine o'clock."
Diego rose and went down the long corridor to his father's room and
knocked at the door, which the Admiral immediately opened. The room
was in a corner of the monastery, and through its four small windows
the moon made patches of white light upon the stone floor. On a little
pallet by the Admiral's bed the little Fernando slept peacefully.
Diego sat down on a bench beside his father, his arm around the
Admiral's neck, and he was not ashamed of the tears that dropped upon
his cheeks.
"What I have to say to you is brief," said the Admiral, "but never to
be forgotten, whether I return or not. First, it is that you shall be a
Christian; that includes everything--honor, probity, all that makes a
man, and especially courage, for God hates a coward. Then I confide to
you your brother. You are to set him an example in every way and to be
tender with him, remembering that he is so young a child. In my absence
he is to remain here under the charge of the Prior, and good Brother
Lawrence to take care of him. The noble lady, Doña Christina, has
promised to keep informed concerning the child, and if he should be ill
to take care of him. The Prior is to communicate with her as often as
possible concerning the child. The noble lady and the Prior will have a
care for the child; but to you, his brother, I intrust him in the end."
"I swear to you, my father," answered Diego, "to do as you have
commanded by my brother, and I will try to live so that when we next
meet, whether it be in this world or in the other, I can look you in
the eye, as I do now, and say I have kept my word to you."
"There speaks my son," replied the Admiral. "Now, concerning to-morrow,
the most important day in my life. I shall confess myself this night to
the Prior, and I desire you to do the same, and hope that Don Felipe
may do likewise. At daybreak, in the Church of St. George, I desire
that you receive Holy Communion with me and with all those who sail
with me. We go not as unbelievers, but as men humbly asking God's help
in crossing His oceans, guided by His stars by night and His sun by
day, and sustained by His protecting hand. Go now and sleep."
"Give me your blessing, and I will go," replied Diego.
Then, kneeling by little Fernando's pallet, the Admiral blessed both
his sons, a hand upon the head of each. Diego rose, soothed and
comforted. He felt that he must show the same cool courage as his
father, and the Admiral's words "God hates a coward" remained fixed in
his mind.
Diego returned to the parapet outside of the tower room, from which he
watched the far-off sea. There was little sleep in the monastery or in
Palos that night.
The wind still held, and the August night grew chill; but Diego did not
know it. Don Felipe, however, brought his cloak and wrapped it around
him. The moon swung high in the dark-blue sky and made a path of glory
across the sea that reached to heaven. As Diego heard the chime of the
midnight bell of the monastery he saw a dark figure come out of the
iron gate and walk quickly down the white road toward the little town.
It was the Admiral, who spent the night on his knees in the Church of
St. George.
At daybreak Diego and Don Felipe, with Fray Piña, the Prior, and all
of the monks of the monastery, including the lay brothers, Brother
Lawrence carrying the little Fernando in his arms, walked in the cool,
sweet dawning to Palos and into the church. Every one of the one
hundred and twenty men of all classes who were to sail upon the great
voyage was in the church, which was also filled with their relatives
and friends, even the church porch being crowded and the narrow street
packed with persons. A deep and solemn silence pervaded. The wives and
families of the officers, especially the Pinzons, showed calmness and
courage in order to sustain the more ignorant and timid. The Prior,
Juan Perez, from the steps of the altar within the church, spoke with
deep and solemn feeling to those who were to sail within an hour. The
Admiral, taking Diego by the hand, advanced at the proper time to the
Communion rail, where he received the Blessed Sacrament, as did all of
his men and many other persons, with the deepest reverence, including
Diego and Don Felipe. When the short religious service was over the men
filed out of the church and, after a last farewell to their families
and friends, marched straight to the shore; the Admiral wished to make
those last painful moments as brief as possible. The vessels were
lying in midstream off the bar of Saltes, and their boats were at the
quay ready to take the crews out. Hundreds of other boats lay in the
stream to accompany them a short distance to sea.
The Admiral, on reaching the quay where his own boat awaited him, was
surrounded by his captains, Martin Alonzo Pinzon and Vicente Pinzon,
and his three pilots, Sancho Ruiz, Pedro Alonzo Niño, and Bartolomeo
Roldan.
Every eye was fixed upon the Admiral. All realized that upon him,
upon his courage, his science, and his judgment, rested the lives and
fortunes of every man with him. Never had the Admiral appeared so
serenely great. Fortified by a deep religious faith, conscious of his
own powers, he faced the unknown with an indomitable courage. None who
beheld him on that day doubted that this man, Columbus, was born a
captain.
"Here," said he, to his companions and pilots, in a clear voice that
made itself heard afar, "do I give you my order as your Admiral, and it
is to be strictly obeyed. If you should become separated from me and
beyond the reach of signals, lay your course due west, and when you
have sailed seven hundred and fifty leagues from this port make no more
sail after midnight, for there will be land off your quarter. Do you
understand?"
"And we will obey," shouted the captains and the pilots, led by the
strong voice of Martin Pinzon.
The boldness of this stern order thrilled and captivated the awed and
sullen throngs, and an involuntary cheer broke from them. The Admiral
smiled and raised his hat in salute.
He stepped into his boat, followed by Diego and the little Fernando,
and led the procession down the bright river to the vessels tugging at
their anchors off the bar. As the Admiral's boat reached the side of
the Santa Maria the Admiral stood up and, taking the little Fernando in
his arms, kissed and blessed him. Then he clasped Diego in his arms,
kissing and blessing him likewise, without agitation on either side.
Diego felt as if the wine of courage were pouring into his veins. He
was so quiet, so smiling, so at ease, that he seemed worthy to be the
son of his father. The little Fernando wept when the Admiral, from the
Santa Maria's poop, waved his hand back at the child; but Diego, taking
the boy in his arms, said cheerfully:
"Do not weep, Fernando. Our father will return, bringing you wonderful
things never seen before in Spain, and he will at once ask if you have
been good and brave. If you weep you will be neither good nor brave."
The little boy was soothed by Diego's calmness, and waved his small
hand cheerfully back at his father.
The boats returned to the quays, which were crowded with a multitude
of persons, who made way respectfully for the sons of the Admiral. The
ships then hoisted their sails, and with a fair wind slipped out into
the open sea. The sky was glowing, and the earth and sea basked in a
rose-red light shot with gold. As the three little vessels became white
specks upon the horizon, where the blue sea met the bluer sky, the
great sun suddenly burst forth in splendor; the vessels disappeared in
the golden light which flooded the world with glory.
VII
THE JOYOUS HEARTS OF YOUTH
"Diego, Diego, wake up! Suppose you should be caught napping like this;
you would have a hard time with the master of the pages, I can tell
you!"
Diego opened his eyes, sprang to his feet, assumed a military attitude,
and was all awake in a moment. It was Don Felipe who spoke, and
they were in a splendid corridor of the palace at Barcelona. It was
magnificently carpeted from the looms of Granada; and long, narrow
windows let in a flood of sunshine upon splendid pictures on the walls,
which were decorated with trophies of arms, the great curved simitars
of the Moors with jeweled handles, Moorish shields and breastplates
cunningly wrought with gold, and marvelous daggers and other arms.
White statues gleamed against the dark-red walls, and everywhere were
the beauty and splendor of a royal palace.
As Don Felipe spoke the great carved doors at the farther end of the
corridor were thrown wide, and Queen Isabella, with a glittering suite
of ladies and gentlemen in attendance, was seen about to enter. At
the threshold, however, the Queen paused. The great Cardinal, Pedro
Gonzalez de Mendoza, the first subject in Spain, appeared, followed by
his secretary. The Cardinal saluted the Queen with profound respect,
who engaged in conversation with him. Both Diego and Don Felipe
recognized the Cardinal at once, a tall, handsome man of commanding
appearance, wearing a black robe edged with scarlet and a black and
scarlet skull-cap, while around his neck hung a gold chain from which
depended a superb cross of jewels.
Diego and Don Felipe, standing side by side, their right hands upon
their sword-hilts, their left hands raised at the salute, could yet
talk without being heard by the Queen and her train at the end of the
long corridor.
"I told you," said Don Felipe, in a whisper, without turning his head,
"that you would find the master of the pages a much more difficult
person than Fray Piña. Suppose you had been caught asleep while waiting
for the Queen?"
"I should have been mortified beyond words," whispered Diego, as
motionless as Don Felipe. "But the truth is that, with rising at four
o'clock and having the horse exercise and the sword exercise and then
studying and standing many hours and doing many errands and sitting up
late at night, I am sometimes half dead for want of sleep."
"It is not an easy business, being at court," was Don Felipe's answer.