HIS LAST YEARS.
[Æt. 67; 1503]
The ships were now hopeless wrecks, and there was nothing more to be
done with them except to abandon them to the underwriters and claim a
total loss. The only chance that the Spaniards could avoid laying their
bones in the bake-ovens of the Jamaican natives was in communicating
with San Domingo, but in the absence of any efficient postal service
this chance seemed very small. Diego Mendez, who was the captain of
one of the vessels, and who had earned the confidence of Columbus by
the skill with which he superintended the escape of the beleaguered
colonists from Quibian’s hordes, volunteered to take a canoe and, with
the help of Indian paddlers, make his way across the one hundred and
twenty miles of sea which stretched between Jamaica and Hispaniola.
He started on his voyage, and skirted the shore of Jamaica, so that he
could land from time to time and take in provisions.
It struck the natives that they might as well improve the opportunity
to lay in provisions for themselves, and accordingly they attacked
Mendez with great energy and appetite, and made him and his Indian
paddlers prisoners. There being in all seven prisoners, a dispute arose
as to the fairest way of dividing them, and the savages agreed to
settle it by a game of chance--which was probably “seven-up.” Mendez
took advantage of the quarrelling to which the game gave rise, and ran
away. At the end of a fortnight he appeared before the Admiral and
announced that all was lost except honor and his canoe.
The bold Mendez was not disheartened, but volunteered to make a
second attempt. This time he was joined by Fresco, the captain of the
other wreck, together with twelve Spaniards and twenty Indians. The
expedition started in two large canoes, and the Adelentado, with an
armed force, marched along the shore as far as the extreme eastern
point of the island to protect the canoes from any attack by the
natives. Mendez and his companions suffered terribly from exposure and
thirst, and many of the Indian paddlers died--a fact which shows either
that the Spaniards could endure thirst better than the Indians, or that
the latter had less water to drink than the former.
The expedition finally reached Hispaniola, having formed a very low
opinion of canoeing as an athletic sport. According to the original
plan, Mendez was to induce Ovando to send a ship to Columbus, and
Fresco was to return with the news that Mendez was at San Domingo,
hard at work inducing the Governor to send the ship; but as the
surviving Indian paddlers said they were satiated with paddling and
did not intend to return to Jamaica, Fresco was compelled to remain in
Hispaniola.
Ovando, hearing that Columbus was in Jamaica, thought he had better
stay there, and instead of sending a vessel to his relief, constantly
promised to do so at the earliest possible moment, and constantly took
good care that no such moment should arrive.
Meanwhile the shipwrecked men were becoming very discontented. When a
man has nothing to do but to think of what he is to have for dinner,
and then never has it, he is reasonably sure to exhibit a fretful
spirit. This was the condition of the Spaniards at Port Santa Gloria.
They were living on board the wrecked vessels because they did not care
to tempt the appetites of the natives by living on shore; and as the
Admiral was confined to his cabin with the gout, and could not overhear
them, they naturally relieved their minds by constantly abusing him,
one to another.
Francesco de Porras, who had been a captain of one of the ships--and
it really seems as if there were as many captains in proportion to the
size of the fleet as there are in the United States navy--thought this
was a favorable time for mutiny, and accordingly proceeded to mutiny.
He reminded the men that Columbus was unpopular in Spain, and was
forbidden to land in San Domingo. This being true, why should he ever
leave Jamaica, where he had nothing to do except to lie in his cabin
and enjoy the pleasures of gout? He insisted that Mendez and Fresco
would never return, and that they were either drowned or had gone to
Spain. In short, by lucid arguments such as these he convinced the
crews that Columbus intended to keep them in Jamaica for the rest of
their lives.
Having thus induced the crews to mutiny, Porras went into the Admiral’s
state-room and demanded that he should instantly lead the Spaniards
back to Spain. Columbus took the ground that this was an unreasonable
demand, since an ocean voyage could not be successfully made without
vessels; but Porras, disgusted with such heartless quibbling, rushed
on deck and called on his followers to embark in canoes and start
for Cadiz without a moment’s delay. His proposal was enthusiastically
received, and a tumult ensued which brought the crippled Admiral
on deck on his hands and knees, in the vain hope of enforcing his
authority.
It was hardly to be expected that in such an attitude he could strike
the mutinous sailors with awe. Indeed, the probability that they would
strike him instead was so great that the Adelentado had his brother
carried back to the cabin, and there stood on guard over him as coolly
as if he were not at the mercy of an armed mob.
The mutineers, to the number of fifty, seized on a fleet of canoes
and started for Spain by way of San Domingo. Twice they were driven
back, and the second time they gave up the attempt. They then wandered
through the island, robbing the natives and alleging that they were
very sorry to do so, but they were acting under express orders from
Columbus, and that, as disinterested friends of the noble Jamaicans,
their advice was that the Admiral should be killed without delay.
Weeks and months passed by, and no word came from Mendez and Fresco.
The natives, finding the Spaniards at their mercy, made a corner in
provisions and refused to sell except at an exorbitant price. Thus
famine began to threaten the unfortunate explorers. It was then that
Columbus performed his celebrated eclipse feat. He summoned the
caciques, and told them that in view of the enormity of their conduct
it had been decided to withdraw the moon from heaven, and that this
purpose would be carried out at the end of three days. The Admiral had,
of course, looked into his Public Ledger Almanac, and had noticed that
a total eclipse of the moon, visible throughout the Gulf States and the
West Indies, would take place on the night in question.
When the third night came, and the eclipse began, the Indians were
terribly frightened, and begged the Admiral to forgive them and give
them back their beloved moon. At first he refused to listen to them,
but when the eclipse reached its period of greatest obscuration he
relented, and informed them that, for the sake of the young men and
young women of Jamaica, to whom the moon was almost indispensable,
he would give them one more chance. The natives, overwhelmed with
gratitude, and determined not to lose the moon if they could help it,
brought all the provisions that the Spaniards wanted.
This was the first instance of turning American celestial phenomena to
practical uses; but the example of Columbus has since been followed
with great success by our scientific men, who induce the government
to send them at vast expense to all parts of the world, under the
plausible pretext of superintending total eclipses and transits of
Venus.
Mendez had been gone eight months when a small vessel entered the
harbor where the shipwrecked vessels were lying. It carried Don Diego
de Escobar, bearer of despatches from Ovando to Columbus. Ovando wrote
promising to send a ship to rescue Columbus and his companions as soon
as he could find one suitable for the purpose. Having delivered this
message and received an answer, De Escobar instantly sailed away, to
the immense disgust of everybody. He was not altogether a nice person,
having been one of Roldan’s gang whom Bobadilla had released from
prison. The Admiral could not help thinking that it was hardly delicate
in Ovando to select such a messenger, but it was still a satisfaction
to know that Mendez had reached San Domingo, and that in the course of
a few years Ovando might find it convenient to send the promised ship.
Columbus now thought it was a good time to offer an amnesty to Porras
and his companions, on condition that they would return to duty. Porras
rejected the offer with disdain. He informed his men that it was only
a trap set by the wily Italian to get them once more in his power.
When they timidly suggested that a messenger from Ovando had really
visited the Admiral, and that this looked as if negotiations were in
progress for the purpose of arranging for the rescue of the expedition,
Porras boldly insisted that the alleged messenger and the vessel in
which he was said to have arrived had no existence. They were simply
“materialized” by Columbus, who was a powerful spiritual medium, and
they had already vanished into the nothingness from which they had been
called.
Convinced by this able address, the mutineers decided to remain
under the leadership of Porras, who immediately marched with them to
attack the Admiral and to seize the stores that still remained. Don
Bartholomew met them, and after a hard fight completely defeated them,
taking Porras prisoner. The survivors gladly surrendered, and Columbus
magnanimously forgave them.
In June, 1503, two ships arrived from San Domingo. One had been fitted
out by Mendez, and the other by Ovando, who saw that Columbus would be
rescued, and that he might as well earn part of the credit therefor.
The Spaniards hurriedly embarked, and on the 23d of the month, after
a stay of more than a year in Jamaica, they sailed for San Domingo,
where they arrived after a voyage of about six weeks. Ovando professed
to be exceedingly glad to meet the Admiral, and told him that for the
last six or eight months he had been steadily occupied in wasting
to a mere shadow, so anxious had he been to find a favorable moment
for deciding upon the propriety of sending a vessel to the rescue
of his distinguished friend. Columbus received his explanation with
politeness, remarking “Ha!” and also “Hum!” at appropriate intervals,
just to intimate that, while he did not care to argue with Ovando, he
was not quite so credulous as some people imagined. The populace were
disposed to overlook their bad treatment of their former Governor,
inasmuch as his arrival at San Domingo was an interruption of the
monotony of their life; so they cheered him when he passed through
the street, and gave the old man the last glimpse of anything like
popularity which he was to see.
[Æt. 67; 1503–1506]
Columbus was not anxious to remain long in the island. His business
affairs were in an intricate state of confusion, and though a large
sum of money was due to him, he could not collect it. The condition of
the Indians filled him with grief. Under the rule of Ovando they had
been constantly driven to revolt by oppression, and then mercilessly
massacred, while the Spanish priests had expended a great deal of
firewood and worn out several full sets of controversial implements,
such as racks and thumbscrews, in converting them to Christianity.
Columbus saw that his discovery of Hispaniola had led to the ruin and
misery of its people, and he could not remain in any comfort amid so
much suffering. Porras had already been sent as a prisoner to Spain,
and on September 12th Columbus followed him. Ovando had supplied two
vessels, one commanded by Columbus and the other by Don Bartholomew,
but one of them was soon sent back as being unseaworthy. After a stormy
voyage the ship arrived at San Lucas on November 7th, and the sick and
crippled Admiral was carried to Seville, where he intended to rest
before proceeding to court.
This time he was not received with any enthusiasm. He had so often
returned from voyages to China without bringing with him so much as a
broken tea-cup as a sample of the Celestial Kingdom, that the public
had lost all interest in him. People who read in their newspapers among
the list of hotel arrivals the name of Columbus, merely remarked, “So
he’s back again it seems,” and then proceeded to read the criticism
upon the preceding night’s bullfight. The popular feeling was, that
Columbus had entirely overdone the matter of returning home from
profitless explorations. There were other explorers who came back to
Spain with stories much more imaginative than those which Columbus
could tell, and the Spanish public had turned its attention from
Prester John and the Emperor of China to the Amazonian warriors of
South America and the Fountain of Youth which explorers of real
enterprise were ready to discover.
Had there been any knowledge of the science of politics in Spain,
Columbus would have been a person of considerable importance in his
old age. The Radicals would have rallied around him, and would have
denounced the atrocious manner in which a treacherous and reactionary
monarchy had treated him. Columbian clubs would have been established
everywhere, and he would have been made to serve as the stalking-horse
of an unprincipled and reckless faction.
[Æt. 67–70; 1503–1506]
When we compare the way in which the Italian republicans have used the
name and fame of Garibaldi as the most effective weapon in striking
at the monarchy which has made United Italy possible, we cannot but
despise the ignorance of politics shown by the Spaniards in the
beginning of the sixteenth century.
Columbus, though utterly worn out, was still able to write letters. He
wrote to the King, to the Queen, to everybody who had any influence,
asking that his honors and privileges should be restored, and hinting
that he was ready to be sent back to San Domingo as Governor. No
one paid any attention to him. Other men were fitting out exploring
expeditions, and Columbus, with his splendid dreams and his peculiar
mixture of religion and geography, was regarded as a foolish old
man who had outlived his original usefulness. He was too sick to
visit the court and personally explain why he had not discovered the
Panama Canal, and the King, having failed to keep his own promises,
was naturally not at all anxious to see him. Perhaps Isabella would
have still remained faithful to her old protégé, but she was on her
deathbed, and died without seeing him.
In May, 1505, Columbus managed to go to Segovia, where Ferdinand held
his court. He saw the King, but got very little pleasure thereby.
Ferdinand was now a widower and his own master; and his manner plainly
showed Columbus that, whatever the King might promise, he never
intended to keep his word and do justice to the man who had given him a
new world.
[Æt. 70; 1506]
The end was now drawing near, and Columbus made a codicil to his will,
expressing his last wishes. Beatrix Enriquez was still alive, though
whether she too had forsaken Columbus we are not told. It is pleasant
to find that the Admiral remembered her, and in the codicil to his will
ordered his son Diego to see that she was properly cared for, adding,
“and let this be done for the discharge of my conscience, for it weighs
heavy on my soul.” He had neglected to marry Beatrix, and, unlike most
men in like circumstances, the neglect burdened his conscience. This
codicil was almost the last act of his busy life; and on the 20th of
May, 1506, repeating the Latin words, _In manus tuas, Domine, commendo
spiritum meum_, he died with the calmness of a brave man and the peace
of a Christian. He had lived seventy years, and had literally worn
himself out in the service of the royal hound whose miserable little
soul rejoiced when he heard that the great Italian was dead.
Columbus was buried almost as much as he was born. His first burial was
in the convent of St. Francisco. Seven years later he was buried some
more in the Carthusian convent in Seville. In 1536 he was carried to
San Domingo and buried in the Cathedral, and afterward he was, to some
extent, buried in Havana. Whether Havana or San Domingo has at present
the best claim to his grave, is a disputed point.