Ships & Ways of Other Days

by E. Keble Chatterton

The Santa Maria, with her high poop and forecastle, was not a particularly dry ship. On September 8, when outward bound, her log admits that near Teneriffe she “took in much sea over the bows.” But whether that was through bad seamanship or bad luck one cannot say. It is certain that, at any rate, the crew were very far from perfect in their art; otherwise the Santa Maria would never have been wrecked in that totally inexcusable manner. It was not the fault of Columbus. He had not had any rest for two days and a night, and those of us who have been ceaselessly on watch for that time, know how great a strain it puts on a man’s eyes and nerves and physical endurance. So, as the wind was very light, Columbus went below at eleven o’clock that night. It was so beautifully fine, and the sea was so calm, that the steersman also was tempted to sleep; and, giving the tiller in charge of a boy, he shut his eyes and dozed off. This was distinctly contrary to Columbus’s orders, for the boys were forbidden ever to touch the helm. At midnight, you will remember, there was a flat calm, but still imperceptibly the poor Santa Maria was being carried on to a sandbank by the current. Very gently she took the ground, but when the boy noticed that the helm refused to move, but that the tide was rushing by the ship and tumbling over the shoal, he became alarmed and cried out. Up came Columbus from his cabin under the poop, who, taking in the situation at a glance, began to give his orders in a cool and seaman-like manner. The first command showed that he knew his business, when he had ordered a boat on the poop to be lowered, and the crew to “lay out an anchor astern,” as the log states, to haul her off. But the men in the boat, being less anxious for the safety of the ship than for their own bodies, paid no regard to the kedging of the Santa Maria, but rowed off to the next ship. Then, finally, Columbus was compelled to order the masts to be cut away, and the ship to be lightened; but it was of no avail. The water rose inside, and her timbers opened. But right to the end Columbus the discoverer showed that he was every bit as fine a seaman as he was a clever navigator.

“ORDERED ... THE CREW TO LAY OUT AN ANCHOR ASTERN.”

If we would endeavour to fill in the details to our mental picture of the Santa Maria, we can find much that is interesting. We have already been thinking of her as a three-masted caravel. Let us step on board and tread her single deck at the waist between the foremast and main. As we examine the gear we shall find it rough but strong. The cordage is of hemp, the masts are serviceable, but only rudely finished. The mainmast measures 2½ feet in diameter, whilst the yards—like the yard of the lateen-rigged craft—follow the historic custom of the Mediterranean of being made of two pieces lashed together at the centre. Aloft flies the admiral’s flag of Columbus, and this he always carried in his hand when going ashore to take possession of newly discovered territory.

The hull seems to have been constructed somewhat roughly, and iron nails are already showing their rusty contact with the sea water. There is precious little ornamentation, too, for there was not much decoration expended on ships in those days, and certainly not on a Flemish merchantman. The hull was painted with tar, whilst below the water-line it was greased so as to minimise the friction through the water. To do this it was customary to beach the ship, and on two occasions during his voyage Columbus saw that this was done. On deck a couple of hatchways led to the hold. The quarter-deck extended from about midships to the stern, and above this rose the poop-deck. On the latter were the quarters of the admiral. We know from this journal that Columbus’s bed was draped in red, and that there was certainly room for several persons to be seated in this cabin. There was a press for his clothes, a stool, a couple of chairs, and a dining-table for two persons, the furniture being all fashioned in the Gothic style which was then prevalent. Add to this inventory charts and books, as well as an astrolabe, and you have the picture of his cabin complete.

When getting under way, the Santa Maria shipped her anchor by means of the fore yard-arm. In those days there was of course no steering wheel, but the tiller came right in under the quarter-deck, and a bar was attached to the forward end of the tiller. There is and has been for so many centuries such a close relation between ships and hammocks that it is interesting to observe that hammocks were introduced by Columbus and his companions after contact with the West Indians, who were accustomed to use them. We cannot, indeed, envy the life of the seamen on these Columbine ships. There was certainly a galley made of brick with an iron cross-piece, but the food, which consisted of bacon, beans, salt fish, cheese, and bread, was, thanks to the heat and damp of the hold, in a very bad condition.

We shall speak in greater detail on a later page concerning the astrolabe, but whilst we are considering these fifteenth-century ships and the surprisingly good landfalls which Columbus made, it is worth while to remember that observations were frequently made only with great difficulty. “The North Star,” says the log, “appeared very high, as it does off Cape St. Vincent. The Admiral was unable to take the altitude either with the astrolabe or with the quadrant, because the rolling caused by the waves prevented it.” We cannot be positively sure of all the crew which sailed on board the Santa Maria, for some of the papers which could have helped the historian are missing. But, in addition to Columbus, she carried one master, two pilots, a surgeon, a quartermaster, a clerk, an interpreter, a carpenter, a caulker, a cooper, a steward, a gunner, and a bugler, as well as the gentlemen adventurers, their servants, and the seamen.

Fifteenth-Century Caravel.

This is the same ship as in the preceding plate, but shows mizzen set.