In the nick of time, however, the waves moderated, and after a weary voyage and many adventures Columbus dropped anchor in the harbor at Palos from which he had sailed months before. He then sent word to Ferdinand and Isabella of his discovery, and was received with the utmost pomp and ceremony. The King and Queen were overjoyed at his achievement and granted him honors which hitherto had never been allowed to any of their subjects. Columbus sat with them enthroned beneath a canopy of cloth of gold and he rode at the side of the King in a triumphal procession. He gave the King and Queen who had so greatly befriended him many gay-colored parrots and rich fruits and spices that he had brought with him from the west, and he showed Isabella a number of the Indians whom he had brought back across the sea. His fame quickly penetrated beyond Spain and the entire Christian world rang with the deeds he had accomplished and the wonders he had seen. And Columbus' triumph was in no way marred by the treachery of Martin Pinzon who once again had sought to betray his master and leader. For when the vessels reached Spain, Pinzon had hastened to send to the Queen word of their arrival and had represented the discovery as the result of his own courage and sagacity. He was, however, coldly received, and shortly afterward died beneath a cloud of disgrace that he richly deserved.
Then Queen Isabella bade Columbus prepare for another voyage to the west and add to his discoveries,—particularly to find gold that the Kingdom of Spain was in great need of. This time it was not difficult to raise a crew, and soon Columbus once more set sail into the west with many vessels under his command.
When he arrived at the spot where his colony had been founded he learned that terrible things had happened in his absence. The Spaniards had abused the unsuspecting natives until these had risen in revolt and attacked the fort, and of all the Spaniards that Columbus had left behind not a single man remained alive.
And this was only the beginning of the trouble that was to pursue Columbus until the end of his life. Quarreling and strife broke out among the men that were under him. When he sent a part of his fleet back to Spain his enemies and those who were jealous of his greatness hastened to spread evil reports about him that came to the ears of the King and Queen. Still, however, they continued to trust him, and when Columbus returned they sent him forth on a third voyage in which he was to bend all his efforts to find the mainland of Asia, which he believed lay only a short distance beyond the colony that he had founded.
On this voyage, however, strife broke out to such an extent among his followers and so many and so lawless were their ill deeds in their commander's absence—for the need of further discovery had forced Columbus to leave the governing of the colony in the hands of others than himself—that the King and Queen finally sent out a man named Bobadilla to succeed Columbus and take over his powers.
Bobadilla hated Columbus and forced upon him an indignity that it is pitiful to think of,—for the discoverer of the New World and the Admiral of the Ocean Sea was compelled to return to Spain wearing chains that had been locked upon his wrists at Bobadilla's orders.
When the Captain of the vessel that bore Columbus homeward was about to remove the fetters, Columbus haughtily refused to take them off, saying that he would not part with them until he had knelt in chains before his sovereigns and given them this proof of the ingratitude with which they had treated him. And Columbus at last came before Queen Isabella, ill in body and broken in mind from the hardships and indignities that he suffered.
When the Queen saw how her commands had been twisted and the shame that had come upon the man who had served her so splendidly, she wept and asked his forgiveness,—and Columbus wept also at the memory of what he had suffered.
Unhappily the full measure of Columbus' misfortune was yet to come. Queen Isabella died, and Ferdinand, who, at the best, had been no more than lukewarm toward the achievements of the great sailor, refused to take any further interest in Columbus or what might become of him. The pension that Columbus had earned was never given to him, nor did he get the share in the profits of his venture that rightfully should have been his. So ill that he could not walk, he entreated Ferdinand at least to pay his sailors for their last voyage,—but this was never done. Deserted, old and broken-hearted, Columbus, who had aged before his time as a result of his hard life, died in 1506 in a room where he had hung his chains as a sign of the ingratitude of his sovereign. He knew, however, that he had accomplished something that would make his name immortal and he died with this consolation. He did not know, however, that he had done something far mightier than his original design of crossing the Atlantic Ocean to Asia—namely that he had discovered a New World that was to give birth to a great nation, greater one thousandfold than the Spain that he had served.