At last one night there was seen the flickering light of a torch, and the next morning revealed the fair shore of a wooded island. As we shut our eyes, we can almost see the Spaniards landing on that October morning. Columbus, richly dressed in scarlet, went ashore, fell upon his knees, kissed the earth, and gave thanks to God. Then, drawing his sword and unfurling the royal banner, he took possession of the land in the name of the king and queen of Spain.
Eyeing the strangers were the natives,—naked, with straight, black hair, and swarthy skins daubed with paint. Columbus, who thought he had reached India, called these people Indians, the name they retain to this day. The island, which he called San Salvador, was one of the Bahamas. In search of gold, Columbus cruised about, touching one island after another, Cuba, Haiti, and others of the West Indies. These he thought were the “thousands of islands rich in spices” which Marco Polo said dotted the sea around Cipango. Cuba, Columbus at first thought was Cipango itself, but afterwards he concluded that it was the mainland of India. Out of the timbers of the Santa Maria, which was wrecked, a fort was built on Haiti, and here thirty-nine sailors were left.
From Haiti, Columbus set sail for Spain, and he reached the port of Palos on the fifteenth of March, 1493. Now indeed, his good fortune was at its height. He was received with almost royal honors. He was bidden to sit in the presence of the king and queen—an unheard-of honor in that formal court—while he described his voyage and displayed the plants and birds and natives he had brought back. Nothing, so thought he and his sovereigns, remained but to take possession of the spices, gems, and gold described by Marco Polo.
Another expedition was planned. Instead of having to seek adventures and criminals to fit out a crew, he had but to choose among the gentlemen and nobles who contended for the privilege of accompanying him. A fleet of seventeen ships and fifteen hundred men was fitted out. With this Columbus sailed away from Cadiz, September 25, 1493. The good fortune for which he had had to wait so many weary years did not long abide with him, and ere this voyage was over it had taken its flight. The colony established on Haiti had by cruelty provoked the Indians and had been destroyed. On this second voyage new islands were discovered,—Jamaica, Porto Rico, and others,—a second colony was established, and one exploring expedition after another was sent out in search of gold, of which small quantities were found. The turbulent, disappointed adventurers quarreled with Columbus, and his enemies at home were active against him. He landed at Cadiz, June 11, 1496, and laid his case before his sovereigns.
He was restored to royal favor, but it was two years before he could get another expedition fitted out, and then, May 30, 1498, only six vessels set sail. This time Columbus followed a southernly course and reached the mainland of South America, which was visited about this time by Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine, who wrote an account of his voyage. Later, a German geographer spoke of it as “Americi terra,” land discovered by Americus, and so the land came to be called America.
Columbus at first thought that he had reached another island; afterwards he decided that this was the coast of Asia and that the Orinoco was a river in the Garden of Eden. Making his way to the Indies, Columbus found the colony at Santo Domingo in disorder but unwilling to submit to his authority. Each side appealed to Spain, and Bobadilla was sent out to investigate and settle the matter. He listened to but one side—that against Columbus. With harshness uncalled-for, had he been guilty of the charges brought against him, Columbus was sent to Spain, a prisoner, and in chains. The officers of the ship would have removed his fetters, but he proudly forbade, saying that they had been put upon him by the agent of the king and queen and so by their authority.
“I will wear them until my sovereigns order them to be taken off, and I will preserve them afterwards as relics and memorials of the reward of my services,” he said.
This he did. His son Fernando “saw them always hanging in his cabinet, and he requested that when he died they might be buried with him.” The sight, the thought, of the great admiral brought in chains from the lands he had discovered turned all hearts to him with indignant pity. The queen, it is said, was moved to tears. Rewards and satisfaction were promised Columbus, and Bobadilla was deposed.
Another voyage Columbus was to make,—his fourth and last,—in search of a strait or passage by which he might reach Portuguese Asia. On May 9, 1502, he set sail with four ships and one hundred and fifty men. It was a voyage of “horror, peril, sickness, and starvation.” Columbus sailed along the Gulf of Mexico, coming pitifully near lands as rich in gold as the eastern ones which he sought. He missed them and found only savage tribes with a few rings and chains of gold. The story of these months is a sad one of famine, hardship, disease, tempest, mutiny, and quarrels with the natives. It was told in after years by Columbus’s brave young son Fernando, who accompanied him on this voyage. At last the admiral turned homeward and reached Seville in the autumn of 1504. While he lay ill, soon after his return, he received the sad news of the death of his good friend, Queen Isabella.
In vain during the months and years which followed did the admiral strive to win justice from the king. Old and worn out, he had, as he said, “no place to repair to except an inn, and often with nothing to pay for sustenance.” He died, May 20, 1506, thinking to the last that the land which he had discovered was a part of the Old World. The voyages of the great admiral did not end with his life. His body was moved from one tomb to another in Spain, then was carried to the Cathedral in Santo Domingo and, in 1796, to the Cathedral of Havana.