The Discovery of America.
By WASHINGTON IRVING.
In accordance with its policy of presenting to its readers each month articles that have to do with the history and characteristics of the month itself, The Scrap Book herewith reprints the most entertaining account that has been written of what is, without question, the most memorable incident of the month of October—the discovery of America by Christopher Columbus. It is from the pen of Washington Irving, the first great man of letters produced in the New World.
In the course of a period of travel in Europe, Irving went to Madrid, Spain, in 1826. There a post as attaché of the United States Legation was offered to him by Alexander H. Everett, then our minister to the Spanish court. This offer was accepted. Mr. Everett suggested that Irving make a translation from the Spanish of Navarrete’s “Voyages of Columbus.” The suggestion appealed to Irving, but he had scarcely more than addressed himself to his task when the idea occurred to him to write an original work on the subject. He searched the Spanish archives for new material and worked so zealously that in July, 1827, he was able to place the completed manuscript in the hands of John Murray, the famous English publisher, who brought out the work, in three volumes, in 1828.
In order that the sketch here given may be the better appreciated by persons who have allowed the earlier incidents of Columbus’s memorable voyage to escape their memories, it may be well to say that with funds supplied by Ferdinand and Isabella, King and Queen of Spain, Columbus sailed from Palos, Spain, on August 3, 1492. The expedition consisted of the Santa Maria, a decked ship, with a crew of fifty men, and commanded by Columbus in person; and of two caravels—the Pinta, with thirty men, commanded by Martin Pinzon, and the Niña, with twenty-four men, under Vicente Yañez Pinzon, a brother of Martin. Columbus had the rank of admiral. The total number of men on the three vessels was one hundred and twenty. Owing to an accident to the rudder of the Pinta, the expedition was compelled to put in at the Canary Islands on August 9th. On September 6th the vessels again weighed anchor and sailed westward into the mysterious “Ocean Sea.”
The situation of Columbus was daily becoming more and more critical. In proportion as he approached the regions where he expected to find land, the impatience of his crews augmented. The favorable signs which increased his confidence were derided by them as delusive; and there was danger of their rebelling, and obliging him to turn back when on the point of realizing the object of all his labors. They beheld themselves with dismay, still wafted onward, over the boundless wastes of what appeared to them a mere watery desert surrounding the habitable world.
What was to become of them should their provisions fail? Their ships were too weak and defective even for the great voyage they had already made, but if they were still to press forward, adding at every moment to the immense expanse behind them, how should they ever be able to return, having no intervening port where they might victual and refit?
In this way they fed each other’s discontents, gathering together in little knots, and fomenting a spirit of mutinous opposition; and when we consider the natural fire of the Spanish temperament and its impatience of control, and that a great part of these men were sailing on compulsion, we cannot wonder that there was imminent danger of their breaking forth into open rebellion and compelling Columbus to turn back.
In their secret conferences they exclaimed against him as a desperado, bent, in a mad fantasy, upon doing something extravagant to render himself notorious. What were their sufferings and dangers to one evidently content to sacrifice his own life for the chance of distinction? What obligations bound them to continue on with him, or when were the terms of their agreement to be considered as fulfilled?
They had already penetrated unknown seas, untraversed by a sail, far beyond where man had ever before ventured. They had done enough to gain themselves a character for courage and hardihood in undertaking such an enterprise and persisting in it so far. How much farther were they to go in quest of a merely conjectured land? Were they to sail on until they perished, or until all return became impossible? In such case they would be the authors of their own destruction.
On the other hand, should they consult their safety, and turn back before too late, who would blame them? Any complaints made by Columbus would be of no weight; he was a foreigner without friends or influence; his schemes had been condemned by the learned and discountenanced by people of all ranks. He had no party to uphold him, and a host of opponents whose pride of opinion would be gratified by his failure. Or, as an effectual means of preventing his complaints, they might throw him into the sea, and give out that he had fallen overboard while busy with his instruments contemplating the stars—a report which no one would have either the inclination or the means to controvert.
Columbus was not ignorant of the mutinous disposition of his crew; but he still maintained a serene and steady countenance, soothing some with gentle words, endeavoring to stimulate the pride or avarice of others, and openly menacing the refractory with signal punishment should they do anything to impede the voyage.
On the 25th of September the wind again became favorable, and they were able to resume their course directly to the west. The airs being light and the sea calm, the vessels sailed near to each other, and Columbus had much conversation with Martin Alonzo Pinzon on the subject of a chart, which the former had sent three days before on board of the Pinta. Pinzon thought that, according to the indications of the map, they ought to be in the neighborhood of Cipango and the other islands which the admiral had therein delineated.
Columbus partly entertained the same idea, but thought it possible that the ships might have been borne out of their track by the prevalent currents, or that they had not come so far as the pilots had reckoned. He desired that the chart might be returned, and Pinzon, tying it to the end of a cord, flung it on board to him.
While Columbus, his pilot, and several of his experienced mariners were studying the map and endeavoring to make out from it their actual position, they heard a shout from the Pinta, and, looking up, beheld Martin Alonzo Pinzon mounted on the stern of his vessel, crying:
“Land! land! Señor, I claim my reward!”
He pointed at the same time to the southwest, where there was indeed an appearance of land at about twenty-five leagues’ distance.
Upon this Columbus threw himself on his knees and returned thanks to God; and Martin Alonzo repeated the Gloria in Excelsis, in which he was joined by his own crew and that of the admiral.
The seamen now mounted to the masthead or climbed about the rigging, straining their eyes in the direction pointed out. The conviction became so general of land in that quarter, and the joy of the people so ungovernable, that Columbus found it necessary to vary from his usual course and stand all night to the southwest.
The morning light, however, put an end to all their hopes, as to a dream. The fancied land proved to be nothing but an evening cloud, and had vanished in the night. With dejected hearts they once more resumed their western course, from which Columbus would never have varied but in compliance with their clamorous wishes.
For several days they continued on with the same propitious breeze, tranquil sea, and mild, delightful weather. The water was so calm that the sailors amused themselves with swimming about the vessel. Dolphins began to abound, and flying fish, darting into the air, fell upon the decks. The continued signs of land diverted the attention of the crews and insensibly beguiled them onward.
On the 1st of October, according to the reckoning of the pilot of the admiral’s ship, they had come five hundred and eighty leagues west since leaving the Canary Islands. The reckoning which Columbus showed the crew was five hundred and eighty-four, but the reckoning which he kept privately was seven hundred and seven. On the following day the weeds floated from east to west, and on the third day no birds were to be seen.
The crews now began to fear that they had passed between islands, from one to the other of which the birds had been flying. Columbus had also some doubts of the kind, but refused to alter his westward course. The people again uttered murmurs and menaces, but on the following day they were visited by such flights of birds, and the various indications of land became so numerous, that from a state of despondency they passed to one of confident expectation.
Eager to obtain the promised pension, the seamen were continually giving the cry of land, on the least appearance of the kind. To put a stop to these false alarms, which produced continual disappointment, Columbus declared that should any one give such notice, and land not be discovered within three days afterward, he should thenceforth forfeit all claim to the reward.
On the evening of the 6th of October Martin Alonzo Pinzon began to lose confidence in their present course, and proposed that they should stand more to the southward. Columbus, however, still persisted in steering directly west. Observing this difference of opinion in a person so important in his squadron as Pinzon, and fearing that chance or design might scatter the ships, he ordered that, should either of the caravels be separated from him, it should stand to the west, and endeavor as soon as possible to join company again. He directed, also, that the vessels should keep near to him at sunrise and sunset, as at these times the state of the atmosphere is most favorable to the discovery of distant land.
On the morning of the 7th of October, at sunrise, several of the admiral’s crew thought they beheld land away to the west, but so indistinctly that no one ventured to proclaim it, lest he should be mistaken, and forfeit all chance of the reward: the Niña, however, being a good sailor, pressed forward to ascertain the fact.
In a little while a flag was hoisted at her masthead, and a gun discharged, being the preconcerted signals for land. New joy was awakened throughout the little squadron, and every eye was turned to the west. As they advanced, however, their cloud-built hopes faded away, and before evening the fancied land had again melted into air.
The crews now sank into a degree of dejection proportioned to their recent excitement; but new circumstances occurred to arouse them. Columbus, having observed great flights of small field-birds going toward the southwest, concluded they must be secure of some neighboring land, where they would find food and a resting-place. He knew the importance which the Portuguese voyagers attached to the flight of birds, by following which they had discovered most of their islands.
He had now come seven hundred and fifty leagues, the distance at which he had computed to find the island of Cipango; as there was no appearance of it, he might have missed it through some mistake in the latitude. He determined, therefore, on the evening of the 7th of October, to alter his course to the west-southwest—the direction in which the birds generally flew—and continue that direction for at least two days.
After all, it was no great deviation from his main course, and would meet the wishes of the Pinzons, as well as be inspiriting to his followers generally.
For three days they stood in this direction, and the farther they went the more frequent and encouraging were the signs of land. Flights of small birds of various colors, some of them such as sing in the fields, came flying about the ships, and then continued toward the southwest, and others were heard also flying by in the night. Tunny fish played about the smooth sea, and a heron, a pelican, and a duck were seen, all bound in the same direction. The herbage which floated by was fresh and green, as if recently from land, and the air, Columbus observed, was as sweet and fragrant as April breezes in Seville.
All these, however, were regarded by the crews as so many delusions beguiling them on to destruction; and when on the evening of the third day they beheld the sun go down upon a shoreless ocean, they broke forth into turbulent clamor. They exclaimed against this obstinacy in tempting fate by continuing on into a boundless sea. They insisted upon turning homeward and abandoning the voyage as hopeless.
Columbus endeavored to pacify them by gentle words and promises of large rewards; but finding that they only increased in clamor, he assumed a decided tone. He told them that it was useless to murmur; the expedition had been sent by the sovereigns to seek the Indies, and, happen what might, he was determined to persevere until, by the blessing of God, he should accomplish the enterprise.
Columbus was now at open defiance with his crew, and his situation became desperate. Fortunately the manifestations of the vicinity of land were such on the following day as no longer to admit a doubt. Besides a quantity of fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they saw a green fish of a kind which keeps about rocks; then a branch of thorn with berries on it, and recently separated from the tree, floated by them; then they picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a staff artificially carved.
All gloom and mutiny now gave way to sanguine expectation, and throughout the day each one was eagerly on the watch, in hopes of being the first to discover the long-sought-for land.
In the evening, when, according to invariable custom on board of the admiral’s ship, the mariners had sung the Salve Regina, or vesper hymn to the Virgin, he made an impressive address to his crew. He pointed out the goodness of God in thus conducting them by soft and favoring breezes across a tranquil ocean, cheering their hopes continually with fresh signs, increasing as their fears augmented, and thus leading and guiding them to a promised land.
He now reminded them of the orders he had given on leaving the Canaries—that, after sailing westward seven hundred leagues, they should not make sail after midnight. Present appearances authorized such a precaution. He thought it probable they would make land that very night; he ordered, therefore, a vigilant lookout to be kept from the forecastle, promising to whomsoever should make the discovery a doublet of velvet in addition to the pension to be given by the sovereigns.
The breeze had been fresh all day, with more sea than usual, and they had made great progress. At sunset they had stood again to the west, and were plowing the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta keeping the lead, from her superior sailing. The greatest animation prevailed throughout the ships; not an eye was closed that night.
As the evening darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin on the high poop of his vessel, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, and maintaining an intense and unremitting watch. About ten o’clock he thought he beheld a light glimmering at a great distance. Fearing his eager hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of the king’s bedchamber, and inquired whether he saw such a light; the latter replied in the affirmative.
Doubtful whether it might not yet be some delusion of the fancy, Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez, of Segovia, and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the round-house the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterward in sudden and passing gleams—as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves, or in the hand of some person on shore borne up and down as he walked from house to house.
So transient and uncertain were these gleams that few attached any importance to them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited.
They continued their course until two in the morning, when a gun from the Pinta gave the joyous signal of land. It was first descried by a mariner named Rodrigo de Triana; but the reward was afterward adjudged to the admiral for having previously perceived the light.
The land was now clearly seen about two leagues distant, whereupon they took in sail and laid to, waiting impatiently for the dawn.
The thoughts and feelings of Columbus In this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he had secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself.
It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man at such a moment, or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind as to the land before him, covered with darkness. That it was fruitful was evident from the vegetables which floated from its shores.
He thought, too, that he perceived the fragrance of aromatic groves. The moving light he had beheld proved it to be the residence of man. But what were its inhabitants? Were they like those of the other parts of the globe, or were they some strange and monstrous race, such as the imagination was prone in those times to give to all remote and unknown regions? Had he come upon some wild island far in the Indian Sea, or was this the famed Cipango itself, the object of his golden fancies?
A thousand speculations of the kind must have swarmed upon him, as, with his anxious crews, he waited for the night to pass away; wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and gilded cities, and all the splendors of Oriental civilization.