In August of that year, 1488, Columbus's younger son Fernando, whose mother was a Spanish woman, was born in Cordova, and soon after the father appears to have returned to Lisbon.
Here again we do not know what happened; the only proof we have that he made the journey at all is a memorandum written by him in his copy of the "Imago Mundi." It is dated Lisbon, December, 1488, and states that Bartholomew Dias had just rounded southern Africa—the Cape of Good Hope. Whether Columbus made another fruitless appeal to Portugal we shall never know. We only know that, instead of going from Lisbon to England, he went back to procrastinating Spain. That he came back by King Ferdinand's summons is almost positive, for another royal decree was issued for every city through which he passed to furnish him with board and lodging at the king's expense. This was in May, 1489, which means that another summer campaign was in progress when Columbus entered Spain. The monarchs who took the trouble to bring him back had no time for his project after he reached Spain.
For almost two years, that is, till the end of 1491, the waiting navigator again resided with the Duke of Medina Celi who still had faith in his proposed explorations.
The duke was by far the most powerful friend Columbus had made in Spain, for he possessed and governed a large principality that was practically independent of the Crown. He lived in royal splendor and held court like a king. When Spain went to war, the duke could fit out a whole army from his own dominions and send them forth under his own banner to fight for the king. Columbus must have felt greatly encouraged over retaining the good will of such a mighty personage; indeed, the duke himself was quite rich enough to give the necessary ships.
But, somehow, he failed to do so; probably because he feared that the sovereigns might object to having a private individual steal away the glory they themselves had no time to reap. Our navigator, again disheartened because the years were slipping away, announced to his host that he would start for France. At this the duke wrote to the queen personally, telling her what a pity it would be to let France have the profits of such a discovery. Also, he wrote a very kind letter of commendation for Columbus to take to her Majesty, a letter which is still preserved; but even with this powerful backing Columbus got no help, as we shall see.
The monarchs, having conquered most of the Moorish cities, were preparing to lay siege to the last stronghold, Granada. Columbus craved an answer from them before the siege began. They requested Bishop Talavera to immediately obtain opinions from the wisest men he could reach, and report their verdict. The majority of wise men, it is sad to relate, again pronounced Columbus's enterprise vain and impossible; the Atlantic Ocean could not be crossed; but the minority, headed by the wise monk, Diego de Deza of Salamanca, who was now tutor to young Prince John, upheld it vigorously, and told the queen that the plan was perfectly feasible. The poor sovereigns, who were neither scientists nor churchmen, but merely hard-working soldiers and governors, did not know which view to take. Again they evaded a positive answer, making the war their excuse; and again Columbus, indignant at their evasion, determined to go to France.
Right here we come to one of the most picturesque incidents in this checkered life,—an incident that takes us again to that hot, dusty, southwestern corner where we saw him first enter Spain with the child trudging by his side.
Columbus appears to have decided that, before starting for France, it would be well to remove Diego from La Rabida and place him with the baby step-brother Fernando in Cordova, so that Fernando's mother might bring up the two lads together. With this end in view, he again presented himself (and again afoot, for he was far too poor to ride a mule) before the gate of the low, white monastery near Palos. The first time he had rung that bell it was with hope in his heart; this time he was dejected. He had no hope, so far as Spain was concerned. The good monk Marchena had certainly done his best, but it had come to naught. There was nothing left but to thank them all and get to France as soon as possible. So mused Christopher sadly as he waited for the gate to open.
But Christopher did not know that there had recently come to La Rabida a new prior or chief monk. This prior, whose name was Juan Perez (pronounced Hwan Pair'eth), possessed, fortunately, an imagination and a certain amount of influence at court. Having imagination, he loved an occasional bit of news from the outside world. Therefore, when he heard a stranger talking to the monks in the outer courtyard, he listened.
"That man is no ordinary beggar asking alms," said the sympathetic prior to himself. "He seems to be a foreigner, and he is talking about the king and queen, and the conquest of Malaga; and now he is asking for our little pupil Diego—why, it is the child's father!—I must go and speak to him myself!" and out he went and joined the group in the courtyard.