MESQUITA IN PRISON.
While the little ship Victoria, which had sought for Mesquita in vain,
was sailing around the world, and was returning laden with spice,
Mesquita himself remained shut out from the sun by the shadows of prison
walls. His lite became more and more silent and neglected.
We know not by what authority he was held in a dungeon for advising the
supposed crimes of his cousin Magellan. It could not have been that of
Juana, who was still watching over the tomb from which she expected her
husband to rise, nor by good Cardinal Ximenes, and possibly not by
Charles V himself, but perhaps by one of his ministers. It may have been
by the direction of Charles, for his imprisonment implies doubt;
otherwise with such an array of testimony against him, we might expect
he would have been executed.
Two years had passed over beautiful Seville, and the India House there
must have began to doubt the story of Gormez as not one of the other
ships returned. These ships might have been cast away in the wintry
seas that Gormez and his crew described, or the flag of Spain that the
daring Portuguese had set toward the Spice Islands of the East by the
way of the South might be seen again some day, rising over the
Guadalquivir.
Mesquita believed in his cousin Magellan; not only in him as a true man,
but as one who had a divine calling to fulfill; as one whom destiny had
allotted to lead the decisive events of mankind. He still felt that he
would prove another Columbus or Vasco da Gama.
The two priests whom Magellan had marooned had honestly thought Magellan
mad. But Mesquita had his own confessor, and we can easily fancy how the
prisoner must have opened his heart to him.
"Padre, I am misunderstood," we can hear him say. "Time tells the truth
about all men. Time vindicates all.
"Padre, some messenger from Magellan will come back again. Time weighs
all events, and life is self revealing. The heralds will blow their
trumpets then, and the bells will ring.
"Padre, they do well to prolong my life. Some day my prison doors will
open wide, and I shall ride through the streets of Seville, and those
who doubt me now will hail me as a heart that, was always true to a
Knight whose heart will be found true to the Emperor!"
The lamp of his faith burned clear and odorous oil. He had a quiet
conscience. But how must the conspirators have felt during these
uncertain months? The ships did not return. That seemed to favor one
view of the madness of Magellan, and yet it did not leave them at ease.
There were some who reasoned: If Magellan were indeed mad on his own
ship, why might not one or more of the other ships have returned? If the
other ships had been loyal to the lantern of Magellan, and had kept
together, might the fleet not return again? Should it return what a
stigma would be cast on the characters of the cowardly mutineers! In
such a case Mesquita would become a hero, and the latter would have to
flee from their own names.
Charles V was in his promise of glory now. In 1519, as we have before
stated, he had been elected Emperor of Germany; and in 1520 he had been
crowned at Aix la Chapelle, amid great rejoicings, and the Pope had
bestowed upon him the title of Caesar or Emperor of the Roman world. He
was called "Caesar" in the chronicles of the times.
Poor Juana took no interest in any of these pomps of her son, as they
shook the world. Her ears were deaf to them, her heart was dead to them
all. The mother of "Caesar" was almost the only person in Spain who
hailed not the glory of Caesar.
Amid all the splendors of his court the dream of Magellan must still
have haunted the mind of the new Caesar. He had accepted the story
brought by the returned ship; but Magellan the madman might come back
again. Madmen had returned before.
The period was a wonderful one. Printing, the art of which had been but
recently developed after the discovery of Gutenberg, was revealing its
great possibilities. These were the times of Francis in France, and of
Henry VIII in England. The Reformation was overturning Germany. The
whole world seemed to be changing.
If the ships of Magellan were to find a new way to the East, and were to
sail around the world, what surprising events might follow!
So, night after night, Mesquita could but hope and ask:
"Where is the lantern of Magellan now?"
Seville was full of maritime prosperity. The tuneful bells in her many
churches had frequent occasions to ring out for national festivals. The
sailors loved these services, and especially those that celebrated the
triumphs of the Virgin whose dominion had become, as was supposed, the
sea, and who was hailed as the "Star of the Deep."
The happy crowds on their way to the rejoicing churches must have passed
the prison walls where Mesquita was detained. Life indeed must have been
mysterious to him. The world in which he deserved so much honor and
happiness was shut out from him--even the sun and stars.