Christopher Columbus

by Mildred Stapley Byne

And so it came about that as soon as Christopher had greeted his boy, now grown into a tall, intelligent lad of ten or eleven, he repaired to the cell of Juan Perez and told all that had happened to him during his various sojourns at court. At last (for Christopher was very wordy) he came to his final dismissal. "They say the Atlantic cannot be crossed," he cried desperately, "but I say it can! Aye, and I shall do it, too!"

Never had such stirring words rung out in that peaceful little cell. The prior himself caught their electricity and became quite excited. Although the monk Marchena appears to have left the convent before Christopher's second coming, the prior had learned all about the Italian navigator from the other brothers. The story had interested him greatly, for he too had studied geography; and now, as the Italian stood before him, declaring that he would find those western lands, the prior realized that it would be a pity for Spain to allow the man to carry his idea off to France.

"Linger yet a few days with us, senor," he urged, "that I may learn from Pinzon and Doctor Fernandez what they think of your scheme. If they still regard it favorably, I myself will go to the queen, in your behalf."

Perhaps just here the senor shook his head sadly and said, "No, no; it is not worth the trouble. The queen is interested only in the Moorish war. Not even the great Diego de Deza, nor the Marchioness of Moya, nor the Duke of Medina Celi, have been able to prevail on her."

And perhaps just here the good prior smiled knowingly and replied modestly, "I once had the honor of being Queen Isabella's confessor, and had great influence with her. If"—and here he leaned close to Christopher and whispered something—"I think I might persuade her."

We did not catch that whispered sentence quite clearly, but we believe it to have been, "If I tell her the story of the shipwrecked pilot." Up to this time Christopher had not referred to it in his pleadings, for fear, perhaps, that it would sound too improbable; but down in this corner of Spain, where all men followed the sea, the story had got about (whether through the monk Marchena, or through sailors who had been to Madeira, is uncertain) and nearly everybody believed it. So now Juan Perez appears to have persuaded Christopher to use it as a last argument. This we may reasonably conclude, since the Rabida monk's intercession with the queen succeeded where all previous efforts had failed.

Martin Alonzo Pinzon, it turns out, is in Rome; so Christopher has to wait until his return. Another delay, but he is well used to that. Meanwhile he turns it to profit by making trips to Palos, Huelva, Moguer, and other ports where he can question sailors newly returned from the west. For half a dozen years he has been out of touch with mariners and their doings, and these trips must have given him deep pleasure. For this is his true place,—among men who have known the rough hardships of seafaring life, and not among grandees and courtiers. He breathes in the salt air and chats with every man he meets. A pilot of Palos, Pedro de Velasco by name, tells him that he too once thought of going into the west, but after sailing one hundred and fifty leagues southwest of Fayal (one of the Azores), and seeing nothing but banks of seaweed, he turned north and then northwest, only to again turn back; but he is sure, he adds, that if only he had kept on he would have found land.

Christopher, also, as we know, is quite sure of it, and says so. Another day, in a seaport near Cadiz, he meets another pilot who tells him that he sailed far west from the Irish coast and saw the shores of Tartary! Christopher probably has some doubts of this, so he merely shrugs his shoulders and walks off. He is impatient for Martin Alonzo Pinzon to return. It is disturbing to learn that other men have been getting nearer and nearer to his land.

At last Pinzon comes and announces, to add to Christopher's uneasiness, that he has been searching in the Pope's library, in Rome, for information regarding that enormously rich Asiatic island called Cipango. As they all sit in the little cell at La Rabida, talking about the proposed western voyage of discovery, Pinzon cannot help throwing in a word occasionally about Cipango. He has been reading Marco Polo, and Japan, or Cipango, is very much on his mind. Perhaps on Christopher's, also, but he is content to stick to his "western lands." About this scheme the two men of Palos, Pinzon and Doctor Fernandez, are as enthusiastic as ever; Martin Alonzo Pinzon repeats his offer to sail as captain of one of the ships; he even goes further, for he offers to advance money for the venture in case the Crown is unwilling or unable to provide the entire sum necessary. All this sounds very promising to the good prior, who vows that he is willing to speak with the queen if Christopher will give up forever his idea of going to France. It is a last ray of hope to the discouraged man, and he agrees.

And so that very day a courier started out from the white monastery among the dark pine trees to find the queen at Granada, and give her Friar Juan's letter craving an interview on "an important matter." In those days it took two weeks, at least, for a courier to ride from Palos to Granada and back. On the fourteenth day, we may be sure, the prior and his guest kept scanning the eastern horizon anxiously. That very evening the man returned. He brought a royal letter granting the monk's request.