Juan, watching from a window and surrounded by all the pages, wore a
melancholy countenance; he longed to be of the travelers. From another
window on a level with the heads of Diego and Don Felipe watched Doña
Christina and Doña Luisita. The last picture impressed upon Diego's
mind, as he rode out of the courtyard in the cavalcade, was Doña
Luisita's soft and beautiful eyes gazing after him. But his absence
was not likely to be longer than eight or ten days, and never did a
young man set out on a journey which meant more of hope and happiness
than did Diego. The return of his father not only meant the sight of
the best and tenderest of fathers returning from a long and hazardous
voyage, but it meant a triumph for the Admiral so great that Diego
was dazzled as he contemplated it. How insignificant appeared the
greatest title by that of the Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and
Captain-General of all Lands to the Westward! It meant unending fame
for the Admiral and splendor for all his descendants. Diego remained
silent as they passed through the narrow streets of the town of
Barcelona, skirted the harbor, bright in the spring sun, and the blue
Mediterranean beyond. Soon they were in the open country. It was the
ninth day of March, and the vegetation in the sunny climate of southern
Spain was already well advanced. When they struck the highway through
the forests there was a faint, delicate green upon the trees, and the
sweet and pungent odor of the coming leaves perfumed the air. In the
fields the peasants tilled the rich earth and laughed and sang as they
toiled.
Don Tomaso was the leader likely to be most popular with youths of the
age of Diego and Don Felipe. He rode ahead, trolling in his rich voice
the canzonets and popular ballads of the day--all relating to love and
war. His famous chestnut horse seemed proud of being bestridden by so
superb a horseman, and whinnied with delight and caracoled as they
traveled rapidly along the highway. At evening the Daredevil Knight
scorned inns and castles, saying:
"Let us sleep like soldiers in our cloaks, and not seek soft beds like
ladies and carpet knights."
Diego and Don Felipe were willing enough for this, and their supper
around the campfire seemed to them the most delicious meal they had
ever eaten. The Daredevil Knight, whose flow of spirits and energy
seemed inexhaustible, told them stories of his adventures in camps and
in the tilt-yard and in tournaments in France as well as in Spain.
When they at last settled to sleep, wrapped in their cloaks and
blankets, Diego put a stick of wood under his head by way of being more
comfortable. The Daredevil Knight, seeing this, rose and kicked the log
away, crying indignantly:
"You are too fond of luxury, Don Diego, if you cannot sleep without a
pillow under your head; you are not fit for a soldier."
Diego remained meekly silent; and Don Felipe, who was reaching out
for another stick of wood to use for the same purpose, withdrew his
hand and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Neither slept much, however;
their veins throbbed with excitement; and, as they watched the quiet
stars overhead, the thought of the story told by those stars to the
Admiral on the trackless ocean thrilled them both. They were late in
falling asleep, and slept so soundly that they were only awakened by
Don Tomaso's kicks and reproaches for being such sluggards. The sun was
just rising, their morning meal was prepared, their horses groomed, and
everything ready for their departure. Mindful of his father's habits of
singular neatness, Diego boldly said:
"Before we start I must wash in yonder brook."
"I washed half an hour ago," replied the Daredevil Knight. "If we had
depended on you and Don Felipe an enemy might have come and surprised
us all and carried you both off without waking you, I suppose. Oh, very
enterprising knights will you and Don Felipe make!"
Neither Diego nor Don Felipe minded Don Tomaso's jokes; but they
privately arranged to be up in advance of him next morning. That day
was a repetition of the rapid and joyous travel of the day before. They
were passing through the richest parts of Spain, with many castles
and splendid residences in sight, and they encountered noblemen and
gentlemen upon the road who urged Don Tomaso to stop at least for
dinner or supper in their houses. But to each one Don Tomaso gave
courteously the same reply:
"I travel on urgent business for her Majesty the Queen, and I cannot
stop except for needed rest and refreshment."
He made no mention of the names of either Diego or Don Felipe, not
wishing any one to suspect his errand in advance.
That night they slept again in the open on the banks of the
Guadalquivir, which narrowed suddenly at that point. Next morning, by
break of day Diego and Don Felipe were awake and, rising noiselessly,
were careful not to disturb any of the other sleepers; and, going to
the banks of the river, a short distance off, had a bath so cold it
made them shiver, but soon brought a warm glow to their healthy young
bodies. When they returned to their companions all were up and awake
except Don Tomaso, to the great joy of Diego and Don Felipe. The
Daredevil Knight lay snoozing peacefully. They even ate their morning
meal without awaking him, and at last, when Alonzo de Quintanilla
called to Don Tomaso, Diego and Don Felipe were sitting on their
horses as if ready to start. Don Tomaso sprang up in great confusion
and made a hurried toilet and a still more hurried breakfast. When they
finally started off in the glorious spring sunrise, Don Tomaso said,
laughing, to Diego and Don Felipe:
"You have once caught me napping; I predict that I will catch each of
you a thousand times."
That day they drew near the coast, and on the next, about four o'clock,
when the afternoon sun was at its richest, they caught the far-off
gleam of the blue Atlantic.
VIII
SUNRISE OFF THE BAR OF SALTES
The sight of the monastery and the thought of seeing his little
brother and the good Prior and Fray Piña filled the heart of Diego with
joy. He had an imaginative mind, and he lived over in thought and spoke
to Don Felipe of the extraordinary change that had taken place in his
fortunes since the day, nearly eight years before, when his father, a
poor and unhonored and unsuccessful applicant at the courts of kings,
jeered at and disbelieved, and Diego, himself a little ragged and
barefooted boy, had stopped at La Rabida to ask for a dole of bread.
Now, he was returning as Don Diego, a page-in-waiting to the heir to
the thrones of Arragon and Castile; his father returning as Admiral
of the Ocean Seas and Viceroy and Captain-General of all lands to the
westward, a title far transcending that of any grandee of Spain and
second only to the title of royalty, the arrival of this great man
breathlessly awaited not only by kings and queens, but by the whole
Spanish people. No more amazing picture of the vicissitudes of fortune
had ever been presented to the human mind.
The party pushed on rapidly to the monastery and drew up before the
courtyard within half an hour. There, all was placid; no hint of the
return of the Admiral's caravel or that of Captain Martin Alonzo Pinzon
had reached the neighborhood of Palos. Diego, looking about the silent
old stone building, the orchard, and the fish-pond basking in the
afternoon glow, and the monks at their business of work or prayer, felt
that a thunderbolt was to fall among them.
The Prior, Juan Perez, came out at once when he heard the clattering
of the horses' hoofs. One glance at Diego's radiant face and De
Quintanilla's look of triumph aroused a strong hope in the Prior's
heart. The Daredevil Knight flung himself off his horse and,
courteously greeting the Prior, drew him aside and told in a whisper
the news they had heard, and that they had come to await the arrival
of the caravel at Palos, which might be expected at any moment.
Juan Perez, a man of deep and sincere piety as well as of strong
understanding, fell on his knees in the courtyard and gave loud and
fervent thanks to God for the news that had been brought. When he arose
he sent for Fray Piña, who came quickly; and to him the great event was
confided. Diego and Don Felipe were glad to see their old instructor
once more, and actually had the grace to thank him for his strictness
and sternness. They had learned some courtly ways from being at court.
Alonzo de Quintanilla, a prudent man, seizing Juan Perez by the arm,
said:
"But no word of this must get abroad in Palos; it would excite the
people too much. I bear letters to the families of the three Pinzon
brothers telling them of the safe arrival of Captain Martin Alonzo
Pinzon at Bayonne; but that is to be kept secret for the present.
I shall not go to the houses of the Pinzons to give their families
the joyful news until nightfall, so that I may not be recognized and
thereby the whole coast be aroused and excited."
"Then," said Juan Perez, "you will have time to go with me and the
brothers to the chapel, where we shall give thanks to God for the
success of this great enterprise."
Diego asked that the little Fernando be sent for, and soon the boy
was seen running along, his little hand within Brother Lawrence's big
paw. Diego took the child in his arms, and kissed him with a heart
overflowing with tenderness. He felt then more like a father to little
Fernando than an elder brother. The Admiral had never ceased to impress
upon Diego his sense of responsibility toward his younger brother, and
Diego, whose heart was naturally tender, glowed with affection for the
child. Fernando's first question was:
"Diego, when will our father come back?"
"Very soon," whispered Diego, "and he will bring you, Fernando,
beautiful play-things and strange little animals for pets unlike any
you have ever seen before."
The Prior directed Brother Lawrence to ring the great courtyard bell
that all the brothers might assemble in the chapel. When the solemn
call of the bell was heard the monks, in their coarse robes and
sandals, left their work and marched silently into the little stone
chapel where Don Tomaso and Diego, with little Fernando, and Don Felipe
and De Quintanilla and the men-at-arms were already assembled. The
Prior, speaking from the altar steps, said simply that he had heard
good news of great import to Spain, and he desired all to unite in
thanks to God for what had been vouchsafed them. Diego joined with a
sense of deep gratitude in these thanksgivings; and little Fernando,
his hands clasped, whispered in Diego's ear:
"I prayed every night and morning that our father would return, and now
he is coming, so I shall thank God just as you do."
The quiet monastery was thrilled with subdued excitement; but nothing
passed beyond its stone walls.
De Quintanilla waited until the darkness fell before leaving on foot to
visit the families of the Pinzons.
Diego and Don Felipe were given the same little tower room in which
they had last slept almost a year and a half before. They were no
longer pupils of Fray Piña; but they had learned to regard his stern
justice with respect.
"He was very hard with us," said Don Felipe; "but not so hard as the
master of the pages."
"No, he was not," said Diego, laughing.
The last night they had spent together at the monastery Diego had slept
scarcely at all, and the long night hours had passed in watching the
moonlit sea upon which his father was to set forth at sunrise. This
night, too, he spent huddled in his cloak on the parapet. Don Felipe,
also wrapped in a long and heavy mantle--for the spring night was
sharp--sat with him. The beautiful afternoon had been succeeded by a
lowering night in which low-lying black clouds scurried across a pale
night sky, veiling the moon and the stars. As the dawn approached,
however, the sky cleared beautifully. Diego, going within the room,
waked the little Fernando, and with his own hands, willing but awkward,
washed and dressed the little boy, saying:
"Fernando, we must go to the seashore now and watch for our father's
vessel."
Something within Diego seemed driving him to the seashore. As soon as
the little boy was dressed Diego said to Don Felipe:
"Come with me, Felipe, and do not leave me during this day, for I feel
that great glory for my father and great happiness for my brother and
me are impending, and I want to have you near me."
The two youths, Diego holding the little Fernando by the hand, passed
out of the monastery gates just as the pearl and amethyst of the dawn
was turning to rose and gold. They walked rapidly, too rapidly for the
little boy, whom Diego took in his arms and carried. The town of Palos
was awaking, and workmen and sailors were appearing upon the streets,
and women were opening their houses. As Diego passed a house a woman
recognized him and, pointing to him, cried out angrily:
"There goes the son of Colon, the Genoese who feared neither God nor
the devil, and sailed away into the unknown seas taking with him my
husband and my brother."
As she spoke she burst into loud weeping. The passers-by, startled
by her passionate sobbing, stopped and gathered about her. Not one
consolatory or encouraging word was uttered, and lowering and menacing
looks were cast on Diego. An old man cried out, fiercely:
"Yes! Colon the foreigner, Colon the Genoese adventurer, came to this
town of Palos, and to Moguer and to Huelva, and by force took away more
than a hundred men from us to be lost in an unknown ocean. My son--my
only son--was taken. Never shall I see him again!"
Others joined in the imprecations upon the Admiral. Diego, putting down
little Fernando on the ground, stood and with crossed arms boldly faced
the excited and angry people in the street.
"Yes!" he shouted, in a ringing voice. "The devil is not feared by my
father, because my father is an upright man and a Christian; nor does
he fear the sea, because he is the boldest and most expert seaman that
ever sailed the ocean floors. He fears God alone. He will return, and
that soon, with the greatest honor and glory the world has ever seen;
and you, men of Palos, who might have gone with him and did not, will
regret it all your lives; and the women and the children of Palos
and Moguer and Huelva will live to boast that it was these towns
chiefly that supplied those who sailed with Christobal Colon, Admiral
of the Ocean Seas and Viceroy and Captain-General of all lands to the
westward. Do you remember that when my father sailed, he gave the order
that when the ships had sailed seven hundred and fifty leagues to the
westward no sail should be made after midnight, knowing that land would
then be off their quarter? They were the words of a captain who knew
how to lay his course and what he should find at the end of it. Look
you, I and my brother would not change places to-day with the sons of
the greatest man in Spain, for it will soon be seen that we are the
sons of the greatest and boldest man in the world!"
As Diego proceeded, his voice grew firmer. A deep enthusiasm possessed
his soul; his words, rapid and vehement, cut the air like swords. The
people, astounded at such language from a beardless youth, remained
silent. After a deep pause Diego added:
"Watch then, you men and women of Palos, the bar of Saltes this day;
and when you see my father's ship standing up the river, go down on
your knees and ask pardon for all you have said against my father."
Then Don Felipe shouted in a loud voice:
"You who revile and execrate the name of Christobal Colon to-day,
to-morrow will hail him as the greatest man in the world. For my part
I, Don Felipe Langara y Gama, grandee of Spain of the first rank,
reckon it an honor to call the son of Christobal Colon my friend."
With that Don Felipe threw his arm around Diego's neck, and the two
marched defiantly down the street, little Fernando walking in front of
them. Diego hugged Don Felipe openly, and rubbed his cheek against that
of his friend. The people of Palos, used to the distinction of rank,
were impressed by Don Felipe's words, and gazed curiously but silently
at the two youths.
When they reached the waterside Diego said, with a strange look in his
eyes, to Don Felipe:
"I have often thought as I lay in my bed at night, or as I attended the
Prince in the palace, or sat at meat with other pages, or worked at my
books, 'At this moment my father is watching for sight of land. If it
be daylight his eyes are fixed upon the horizon, watching for the dark
line of the land to appear. If it be night-time he is standing on the
poop watching, watching, watching for a light on shore.' And so I shall
watch all day for the sight of my father's ship, and when night comes I
will stay upon the quay still watching for him."
As Diego spoke the sky, which had been rosy red, grew blue and
brilliant as the sun suddenly burst out in great magnificence; the
world seemed bathed in the golden glory. Diego had not once taken his
eyes from the blue billows of the Atlantic rushing in over the bar of
Saltes. And then--and then, he saw a speck upon the horizon, a vessel
carrying all hard sail and standing straight for the bar. Diego's heart
almost leaped out of his body. He seized Don Felipe and shouted:
"Is that a caravel I see?"
Then the little Fernando began to jump about and dance, shouting:
"That is my father's ship!"
Diego stood as if turned to stone, his eyes fixed upon the advancing
vessel. It could not be distinguished from any other vessel of its
class; but when it reached the bar of Saltes it came about, for the
water was low on the bar. And far down the river Diego saw, as did Don
Felipe and little Fernando, the great Gonfalon, the crimson and yellow
standard of Spain, flung to the breeze, which blew it out bravely so
that all could see the sign of glory. Then, over the crystal water,
came a single loud gun, the signal for a pilot to come aboard.
It was as if the breaking out of the great standard and the boom of
the solitary gun waked the whole of Andalusia. Instantly the entire
population of Palos, of Moguer, of Huelva, and the country-side seemed
rushing to the seashore and watching in the glorious sunrise the banner
of Spain flying from the caravel. It was all so rapid that Diego was
stunned by it, the excited crowds of people, the sudden presence
of Juan Perez and De Quintanilla, the surging multitudes cheering,
weeping, laughing, the women shrieking with joy and falling into each
other's arms, the men mad with excitement, every pilot of Palos
running for his boat to have the honor of bringing the caravel up the
river. Men and women whose names Diego did not know embraced him, and
would have shoved him into a boat to go to meet his father; but Diego,
although his soul was in a tumult, retained his outward calmness. He
would meet his father on Spanish soil and would see that glorious
landing. The boats, some under sail and others with rowers, sped down
the river and swarmed about the caravel; but none was allowed to
board her except the pilot, Sebastian Rodriguez, one of the Admiral's
earliest and most steadfast friends. To Rodriguez was given the honor
of bringing the caravel over the bar. The cheers and cries of the
people echoed down the river, and the wind brought back the shouts from
the boats surrounding the immortal ship. The tide came in slowly, and
it was not until high noon that Rodriguez was able to take the vessel
over the bar. It was a wait of six hours in the clear March sunshine;
but to the assembled multitudes it seemed a mere fragment of time.
Every hour added to the cheering and excited crowds that thronged
the shore. The church bells over the whole district rang joyously,
salutes were fired, and bands of musicians played and sang religious
and patriotic hymns. Diego, holding his little brother by the hand,
and with Don Felipe next him, watched the caravel as it came slowly up
the river in the midst of a universal joy and applause that echoed to
the deep-blue sky above them. On the poop, under the royal standard,
stood the Admiral splendidly dressed in crimson, his attitude calm and
unmoved, but full of that sublime dignity which had ever marked him.
The boat of the pilot Rodriguez, which was towing astern, was brought
alongside and the Admiral, with Rodriguez and the Queen's notary, came
over the side and were pulled to the shore.
The crowd fell back, leaving the sons of Columbus to meet him first.
A profound and solemn silence fell upon them as the Admiral, when his
foot touched Spanish earth, kneeled down and kissed the ground and gave
thanks to God. The vast multitude followed his example, Diego and the
little Fernando being the first to kneel. Then, rising, the Admiral
took his sons in his arms and kissed and blessed them. Next he embraced
the Prior, Juan Perez, and De Quintanilla. Both were strong men; but
they wept freely. The Admiral did not forget Don Felipe.
The men from the Niña had poured ashore, and were greeted with
tears and cries and wild embraces as men returning from the dead. A
procession was rapidly formed, headed by the mayor and the officials
of the town of Palos and the ecclesiastics, to escort Columbus and his
men to the Church of St. George, where a solemn Te Deum was to be sung.
The procession was preceded by a beautiful youth in a red cassock and
a white surplice bearing a great glittering cross. He was followed
by the ecclesiastics in their robes and by the officials. Then came
the Admiral holding with his right hand Diego and with his left the
little Fernando, and escorted by Alonzo de Quintanilla, the Queen's
representative, on one side, and Juan Perez on the other. Behind them
stretched thousands of persons, only a few of whom could get into the
little church. The multitudes crowding about it fell on their knees
and joined in the singing of the solemn hymn of thanks. A supernatural
joy filled every heart; in that of the Admiral the humble thanksgiving
of a Christian took precedence of the stupendous triumph of the
greatest discovery the world had ever known.
A scant forty-eight hours was allowed Diego before beginning the return
journey to Barcelona. It was the shortest two days Diego had ever
known. Apart from the deep and penetrating joy of seeing his father and
the splendid glow of pride which naturally filled Diego's heart, he,
like Don Felipe, was consumed with curiosity concerning the strange
new lands to the west, the men of a race never before seen in Europe,
whom the Admiral had brought back, the specimens of birds, plants,
minerals, and animals hitherto unknown. But there was little time for
that. The whole of Spain seemed roused in a single day, and the Admiral
was overwhelmed with throngs of great people coming and sending to
him and the enthusiasm of vast numbers of people half crazed with joy
and pride in the man whom they had opposed and thwarted and whose
sublime purpose they had tried in every way to defeat. The great and
magnanimous soul of the Admiral could easily ignore the past; he made
no reproaches and bore his stupendous honors with the same dignity he
had borne contumely, neglect, and treachery.
At the end of the second day couriers traveling at full speed by night
and by day, and with frequent relays of horses, brought the Admiral
a letter from the sovereigns. It was addressed to "Don Christobal de
Colon, our Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and Captain-General
of all Lands to the Westward." In it, after expressions of fervent
gratitude the King and the Queen desired the Admiral to take time to
refresh himself before attending the sovereigns, who would await at
Barcelona his convenience.
On the second night after the arrival of the Admiral, he had his first
long conversation with Diego, who was leaving at daybreak with Don
Tomaso and Don Felipe. The Admiral questioned Diego closely as to his
life at court. Diego was able to answer satisfactorily. His conduct had
not been perfect, but it was not stained by a single act of baseness.
At saying good night, the Admiral said:
"Remember, do not on your return appear puffed up with pride and make
your companions smile by references to your father, and otherwise
comport yourself with pride, which is folly."
"But, my father," answered Diego, "do you think that I am not, after
all, human, and that I am not filled with pride at the thought of being
your son? I will try not to show it too much; but I have ever told all
my companions, and said it before Prince Juan, that my father, the
Genoese navigator, would one day be acclaimed not only the greatest man
in Spain, but the greatest man in all the world. I think I have been
very modest in claiming so little."
Diego spoke with such fire and earnestness, and with so much of boyish
simplicity, that even the grave Admiral was forced to smile at the
boy's idea of modesty.
"Take pattern," he said, "by Don Felipe. That youth has always had
everything that the highest rank, the greatest fortune, could confer,
yet see how little boastful he is."
"But Don Felipe's father was not to be named in the same breath with my
father," replied Diego, sturdily, and wagging his head.
"Very well," said the Admiral, still smiling, "if you grow too boastful
and self-conscious, I think I can depend upon your young companions to
bring you to your proper senses."