Near this isle is that of Râca, which is “the isle of the birds” (Djazîrato ’t-Toyour). It is reported that a species of birds resembling eagles is found there, red and armed with fangs; they hunt marine animals upon which they feed and never leave these parts.
This statement recalls the cormorants, which are supposed to be meant by the sea crows, “corvi marinis” of the later maps. They would naturally flock about the submerged ledges and the wild shore of Corvo and may be held to suggest either the crow or the eagle, though not closely resembling either. Everywhere they are the scavengers of the deep seas. Edrisi mentions a legendary expedition sent by the “King of France” after these birds. It ended in disaster. The pictorial record on the Pizigani map of 1367[271] ([Fig. 2]), of Breton ships in great trouble with a dragon of the air and a kraken, or decapod, on the extreme western border of navigation, may conceivably refer to this experience.
Ancient Memorials
But Corvo has even more ancient traditions and associations, Diodorus Siculus,[272] in the first century before the Christian era, wrote of a great Atlantic island, probably Madeira, which the Etrurians coveted during their period of sea power; but the Carthaginians, its first discoverers, prohibited them, wishing to keep it for their own uses. If the Etrurians were thus well informed concerning one island of these eastern Atlantic archipelagoes, it is a fair conjecture that they had visited the others.
However this may be, it seems that the Carthaginians left memorials on Corvo. At least this is the most reasonable explanation of the extraordinary story repeated by Humboldt[273] in the “Examen Critique,” apparently with full faith in its main feature at least, notwithstanding the fascinating atmosphere of romance and wonder which hangs about the details. In the month of November, 1749, it appears, a violent storm shattered an edifice (presumably submerged) off the coast of Corvo, and the surf washed out of a vault pertaining to the building a broken vase still containing golden and copper coins. These were taken to a convent or monastery (probably on some neighboring island). Some of them were given away as curiosities, but nine were preserved and sent to a Father Flores at Madrid, who gave them to M. Podolyn. Some of them bore for design the full figure of a horse; others bore horses’ heads. Reproductions of the designs were published in the Memoirs of the Gothenburg Royal Society[274] and compared with those on coins in the collection of the Prince Royal of Denmark. It seems to be agreed that they were certainly Phoenician coins of North Africa, partly Carthaginian.
It has been suggested[275] that they may have been left by Norman or Arab seafarers, who certainly journeyed among the Azores in the Middle Ages. But, as Humboldt points out, that these should have left a hoard of exclusively Phoenician coins, so much more ancient than their own, without even a single specimen of any other mintage, appears very unlikely. On the other hand, it is true that Phoenician vessels sailing northward in the tin or amber traffic would hardly be likely to be storm-driven so far northwestward as Corvo; St. Michael would have been a more natural involuntary landfall. This objection does not apply, however, if we suppose the deposit to be the work not of accident, but of full intention and deliberation, as the alleged edifice and vault would certainly tend to show. If these coins were deposited by Phoenicians who erected permanent buildings, the remoteness of the island would be only an added reason for commemoration. The coins might have been immured in the vault for safe keeping or might have been enclosed in the corner stone, in accordance with the general custom of placing coins and records in the corner stones of notable structures.
Of course these details cannot be confidently accepted. As Humboldt suggests, it is to be regretted that we are without information as to the period or character of the edifice in question. But at least it seems most probable that Phoenicians occupied or at any rate visited this island and deposited coins of Carthage.
Equestrian Statues
Furthermore, Corvo is one of several Atlantic islands reputed to have been marked by monuments generally of one type. Edrisi[276] knows of them in Al-Khalidat, the Fortunate Isles—bronze westward-facing statues on tall columnar pedestals. There are said to have been six such in all, the nearest being at Cadiz. Tradition places an equestrian statue also on the island of Terceira, as repeated in a much more modern work.[277] The Pizigani map of 1367, it will be remembered, shows ([Fig. 2]) near where Corvo should be the colossal figure of a saint warning mariners backward, with a confused inscription declaring westward navigation impracticable beyond this point by reason of obstructions and announcing that the statue is erected on the shore of Atilie. But perhaps the best and most apposite account is that of Manuel de Faria y Sousa in the “Historia del Reyno de Portugal:”
In the Azores, on the summit of a mountain which is called the mountain of the Crow, they found the statue of a man mounted on a horse without saddle, his head uncovered, the left hand resting on the horse, the right extended toward the west. The whole was mounted on a pedestal which was of the same kind of stone as the statue. Underneath some unknown characters were carved in the rock.[278]