Christopher Columbus: His Life and His Work

by Charles Kendall Adams

Having accomplished his bewildering purpose, the Admiral now turned to the northwest. Falling into the currents, the vessels floated beyond Hispaniola; and on the 30th of May they found themselves in the group of islands which Columbus had already called “The Gardens.” That his old delusion was still kept up, is evident from his declaration that he “had come to Mango, which is near Cathay.”

Here again a succession of storms came on and threatened to shatter the crazy hulks to pieces. Columbus tried to find shelter in the lee of one of the islands; but he lost all his anchors save one, and the crews were able to keep the ships afloat only by “three pumps, and the use of their pots and kettles.” Evidently this condition of affairs could not long continue. On the 23d of June he reached Jamaica, and a little later he saw no other course than to run both of his ships aground. The first he ran ashore on the 23d of July; and on the 12th of August he brought the other alongside, and managed to lash them together. The tide soon filled them with water. He built cabins on the forecastles, in which the crew could live until they could find relief.

The navigators’ scanty supply of food was ruined, and their first thought, therefore, was to barter for supplies with the natives. Fortunately, they were successful. Diego Mendez, the commander of one of the vessels, took the matter in hand, and making the circuit of the island in company with three other Spaniards, bargained advantageously with several of the caciques.

The next thought of the Admiral was to send to Ovando for a rescuing vessel. He proposed to Mendez that he should go in an open boat, as the only possible means of establishing a connection with San Domingo. Mendez offered to go in case no one else would volunteer. The others all held back. He then fitted up a row-boat, and taking one other Spaniard and six natives as oarsmen, committed himself to a voyage of nearly two hundred miles in those tempestuous waters.

To Mendez, Columbus committed a long letter addressed to the monarchs of Spain,—the very letter, no doubt, to which we are indebted for much of our knowledge of this disastrous voyage. It bears date July 7, 1503, and may well be regarded as the unmistakable evidence of a distracted, if not of an unbalanced, mind.

Though the writer had much to say of the voyage, the most prominent characteristic of the writing was its rambling and incoherent references to the troubles of his earlier years. It was a veritable appeal ad misericordiam, and was full of inaccuracies, not to say positive misstatements. He says,—

“I was twenty-eight years old when I came into your Highnesses’ services, and now I have not a hair upon me that is not gray, my body is infirm, and all that was left to me, as well as to my brother, has been taken away and sold, even to the frock that I wore, to my great dishonour. Solitary in my trouble, sick, and in daily expectation of death, I am surrounded by millions of hostile savages full of cruelty. Weep for me whoever has charity, truth, and justice.”

Surely this is not the outpouring of a great soul. On the contrary, it is simply pitiful; for it is impossible to forget that in earlier years he had described these “millions of hostile savages” as the embodiment of hospitable kindness. It was not until the innocent natives had learned by bitter experience that there was no device of avarice or cruelty or licentiousness of which they were not made the victims that their unsuspecting hospitality was turned into a prudent hostility. If Columbus was only twenty-eight when he entered the service of the Spanish monarchs, he must have been born in 1456; he must have been only eighteen when he had the correspondence with Toscanelli; and at the time of his writing, he must have been only forty-seven. Recurring to geographical affairs, he writes: “The world is but small; out of seven divisions of it, the dry part occupies six, and the seventh is entirely covered with water. I say that the world is not so large as vulgar opinion makes it.” Referring to his search for gold, he exclaims: “Gold is the most precious of all commodities; gold constitutes treasure; and he who possesses it has all the needs of this world, as also the means of rescuing souls from Purgatory and introducing them to the enjoyments of Paradise.”

After the departure of Mendez the long months of autumn and winter wore on. Columbus during much of the time was confined to his bed by illness. Discontents, and finally insubordination, became rife. The malcontents put themselves under the leadership of Francisco de Porras, a daring navigator, who at one time had commanded one of the vessels. On the 2d of January, 1504, Porras appeared in the cabin of the sick Admiral. An unfortunate altercation ensued, which resulted in dividing the little band into two hostile camps. The outcome was that Porras and forty-one others threw themselves into active rebellion. They took forcible possession of ten canoes, and committed themselves to the sea with the mad purpose of going to San Domingo. A short experience, however, was enough to drive them back, and they now devoted themselves actively to getting supplies from the natives of Jamaica. This of course interfered greatly with the comforts of Columbus and his little band. Indeed it might have proved fatal but for one of those ingenious expedients of which the mind of the Admiral was so prolific.

An eclipse of the moon was to take place on the night of February 29, 1504. Columbus caused it to be widely circulated among the natives that the God of the Spaniards was greatly displeased with their lack of loyalty, and was about to manifest his displeasure by an obscuration of the moon. As the eclipse came on, the words of the Admiral appeared to be verified. The natives were convulsed with fear. He now declared that the divine anger would be appeased if they would show proper contrition and would furnish the needed supplies. The caciques threw themselves at his feet, and promised everything he might need. Just before the moon was to emerge from the shadow, he assured them that the divine wrath was placated, and that a sign would soon be manifested. As the eclipse passed off, the astonishment and satisfaction of the poor wretches were complete. From that time Columbus had no lack of sufficient supplies.