The arrival of Columbus in chains at the port of Cadiz produced a deep sensation. It was but natural that there should be an instantaneous reaction in his favour. Even those who had not hesitated to criticise or even denounce him, were now moved with a deep and natural sympathy at the ignominy that had overtaken him. The reaction took possession of all classes, and the agitation of the community was scarcely less than it had been when, seven years before, with banners flying and music sounding, he had departed from the same port with a fleet of seventeen ships for his second voyage.

The tidings of his imprisonment soon spread abroad. In the luxurious city of Seville there was deep and general indignation. The court was at Granada. Columbus, still ignorant as to how far the course of Bobadilla had received royal authority, abstained from writing to the monarchs. While on shipboard, however, he had written an elaborate letter to Donna Juana de la Torres, formerly a nurse of Prince Juan, and still a great favourite of the queen. The letter was doubtless written in the supposition that it would reach the court without delay; and with the permission of the master of the ship, it was despatched by the hand of Antonio de Torres, a friend of Columbus and a brother of Juana. Las Casas tells us that it was by this letter that Ferdinand and Isabella first learned of the indignities that had been heaped upon the Admiral. Other tidings, however, soon followed. A friendly letter from Vallejo confirmed in all essential points the narrative of Columbus. A despatch was also received from the alcalde to whose hands Columbus had been consigned to await the pleasure of the sovereigns.

Ferdinand and Isabella acted without hesitation. Las Casas tells us that the queen was deeply agitated by the letter of Columbus. Even the more prudent Ferdinand did not deem it necessary to wait for the despatches from Bobadilla. They declared at once that the commissioner had exceeded his instructions, and ordered that Columbus should not only be set free, but should be treated with every consideration. They invited him to court, and ordered a credit of two thousand ducats (a sum equal to more than ten thousand dollars at the present day) to defray his expenses.

Columbus reached the court at Granada on the 17th of December. His hearing before the king and queen is said not to have been that of a man who had been disgraced and humiliated, but rather that of one whose proud spirit was meeting undeserved reproach with a lofty scorn. He was richly dressed, and attended with a retinue becoming his high office. The king and queen received him with unqualified distinction, and encouraged him with gracious expressions of favour. At length, regaining his self-possession, Columbus delivered an earnest vindication of his course. He explained what he had done, declaring that if at any time he had erred, it had been through inexperience in government, and the extraordinary difficulties under which he had laboured.

Isabella replied in a speech that did great credit to her discretion as well as her sympathy. She declared that while she fully appreciated the magnitude of his services and the rancour of his enemies, she feared that he had given cause for complaint. Charlevoix has reported what purports to be the speech of the queen.

“Common report,” she said, “accuses you of acting with a degree of severity quite unsuitable for an infant colony, and likely to excite rebellion there. But the matter as to which I find it hardest to give you my pardon is your conduct in reducing to slavery a number of Indians who had done nothing to deserve such a fate. This was contrary to my express orders. As your ill fortune willed it, just at the time when I heard of this breach of my instructions, everybody was complaining of you, and no one spoke a word in your favour. And I felt obliged to send to the Indies a commissioner to investigate matters and give me a true report, and, if necessary, to put limits to the authority which you were accused of overstepping. If you were found guilty of the charges, he was to relieve you of the government and to send you to Spain to give an account of your stewardship. This was the extent of his commission. I find that I have made a bad choice in my agent, and I shall take care to make an example of Bobadilla which will serve as a warning to others not to exceed their powers. I cannot, however, promise to reinstate you at once in your government. People are too much inflamed against you, and must have time to cool. As to your rank of Admiral, I never intended to deprive you of it. But you must abide your time and trust in me.”

The course pursued by the monarchs was not altogether above reproach; for in their haste to make amends to Columbus, they were not unwilling to throw an unjust imputation upon Bobadilla. Whatever had been the intention of the monarchs, it is now plain that the commissioner had not exceeded his authority in making the arrest; and that the monarchs should be willing to dismiss their agent without waiting even to receive his report, is evidence that they had either forgotten the nature of their instructions, or that they were now carried away by the representations of the Admiral or the clamours of the populace.

The Admiral, however, had but little reason to be satisfied. He cared not so much for the removal of Bobadilla as for his own reinstatement. This he deemed necessary to a complete vindication; but in this he was doomed to disappointment. There is no evidence that Ferdinand ever looked with favour on the restoration of Columbus to his command.

The misfortune that had befallen the Admiral was of a nature to awaken sympathy in every generous mind. Even down to the present day this feeling is so wide spread that it is difficult to secure a judicious discrimination between the fact of his removal and the manner in which the removal was accomplished. But these two phases of the subject are entirely distinct, and ought to be independently considered. The manner of the removal can have no justification. This was admitted by the monarchs, who in order to shield themselves from obloquy were not unwilling to bring an unjust charge against the commissioner. It is now plain that the fault of Bobadilla was not in exceeding his authority, but in the unwise and immoderate use of the discretion that had been placed in his hands. It is by no means certain that a careful investigation of affairs in the island, followed by a judicious and moderate report, would not have resulted in a removal of the Admiral from his command; for it is quite possible that even if Columbus was not deserving of censure, the relations of the different interests were in such turmoil that a governor who had had no connection with affairs thus far, would be more successful in subduing anarchy and in bringing order out of chaos.

But whether such a result would have ensued, can never be more than a matter of mere conjecture. It is certain that the difficulties of the situation had not been successfully overcome by Columbus or by either of his brothers. It is incontestable that even as late as the arrival of Bobadilla, affairs on the island were in great confusion, and that the rebellion had been subdued only by the granting of terms that were not very creditable either to Columbus or to Spanish civilization. There is nothing remaining that throws more light on the condition of affairs in Hispaniola at the time of which we are speaking, than the letter of Columbus to the old nurse of Don Juan. Any one who reads it thoughtfully must receive a number of very heterogeneous impressions. With a little more than usual intensity, it breathes a loyal and pietistic spirit. It conveys a very delicate, but at the same time a very just, reproach to the monarchs for bestowing on Bobadilla the authority which he received. Nothing could have been more justly or felicitously expressed than the sentence in which he declared: “I have been wounded extremely by the thought that a man should have been sent out to make inquiry into my conduct who knew that if he sent home a very aggravated account of the result of his investigation, he would remain at the head of the government.” He showed, moreover, the unpardonable precipitancy with which Bobadilla had acted, in making his arrests right and left before he had had time to conduct any proper investigations.

But after all these mitigations are admitted, and after Columbus has received every credit that can be accorded him, there still remains the fact that the island had been in turmoil almost from the first; that the Indians, who, according to the testimony of Columbus himself, had been at the first everywhere friendly and peaceable, had now become universally hostile; that even if these disorders had largely occurred in the absence of the Admiral, it was nevertheless true that they had all occurred under officers appointed by Columbus himself; that even if, as he said, vast numbers of men had gone to the Indies “who did not deserve water from God or man,” still, all the men that had gone had been accepted for the purpose by the Admiral himself; that if he complained that the Spanish settlers “would give as much for a woman as for a farm,” and that “this sort of trading is very common,” still this iniquity was all under an administration of which he himself was the head, and directly under subordinates whom he himself had appointed to command and, most important of all, under a system which he himself had recommended, and for which he alone was responsible. It may well be asserted that the comprehensive nature of his own commission, and the fact that his appointments had not been interfered with, estopped him from asserting that all responsibility for failure was to be charged to the wickedness and the weakness of his subordinates. Had Columbus been completely adequate to the situation, he would have bound his subordinates to him in unquestioning loyalty. The truth is, however, that from first to last, with the exception of his brothers, those who were nearest him in command sooner or later became his enemies,—and generally the enmity was not long delayed.

But there were other considerations that led Ferdinand to hesitate. The colony had not been prosperous from any point of view. It had been a continuous and unlessening source of expense, and had brought as yet very small returns. The hopes that the early reports of Columbus had aroused had ended in disappointment. The Admiral had confidently expected to come upon all the wealth of the Great Khan and of Cathay. Even the gold mines of Ophir, which he believed he had at length discovered, brought no returns.

In the mean time, however, the court was besieged with the importunities of enterprising navigators who desired permission to make explorations without governmental support. The only favour they asked was the privilege of sailing and of bringing back to the royal treasury the due quota of their gains. They promised to plant the Spanish standard in all the lands of the west, and thus, without depleting the treasury, maintain and even advance the glories of the Spanish discoveries.

To such importunities the Government began to yield as early as 1495. The privileges that were granted were in obvious violation of the exclusive rights bestowed upon Columbus before the first voyage. But it was not easy to observe the letter of that contract. The lands discovered were so much vaster in extent than even Columbus had anticipated that it would be unreasonable to expect a comprehensive observance of the monopoly granted. Though the Admiral made repeated and not unreasonable complaints of the privileges bestowed upon others in violation of his charter, yet the custom of granting such privileges was never completely discontinued. Nor would it have been reasonable to suppose that a monopoly of navigation and government in the western world could forever remain exclusively in the sacred possession of a single family. It was simply a question as to when that monopoly should cease. That there was no purpose to do injustice, was shown in the requirement that the interests of Columbus in the products of the island should be respected to the letter by Bobadilla and his successors.

During the eight years that had now elapsed since the first voyage of the Admiral, a considerable number of navigators had already immortalized themselves by important discoveries and explorations. The Cabots, going out from Bristol, where they had doubtless learned of the projects and the success of Columbus, sailed westward by a more northerly route, and after reaching the continent a year before South America was touched by the Spanish navigator, explored the coast as far as from Newfoundland to Florida. As early as 1487, after seventy years of slow advances down the six thousand miles of western African coast, the Portuguese, under Bartholomew Diaz, as we have already noted, had reached the Cape of Good Hope; and ten years later, just as Columbus was preparing for his third voyage, Vasca da Gama doubled the Cape, and in the following spring cast anchor in the bay at Calicut. In the spring of 1499 Pedro Alonzo Nino, who had accompanied Columbus as a pilot in the voyage to Cuba and Paria, obtained a license, and not only explored the coast of Central America for several hundred miles, but traded his European goods to such advantage as to enable him to return after one of the most extensive and lucrative voyages yet accomplished. In the same year, Vincente Yanez Pinzon, who had commanded one of the ships in the first expedition of Columbus, pushed boldly to the southwest, and, crossing the equator, came finally to the great headland which is now known as Cape St. Augustine, and for their Catholic Majesties not only took possession of the territories called the Brazils, but discovered what was afterwards appropriately named the River of the Amazons. In the year 1500 Diego Lepe, fired with the zeal for discovery that had set the port of Palos aglow, went still farther to the south, and, turning Cape St. Augustine, ascertained that either the mainland or an enormous island ran far away to the southwest.

Most important and significant of all, the fleet which, in the year 1500, was sent out from Portugal under Pedro Cabral, for the Cape of Good Hope, in striving, according to the advice of Da Gama, to avoid the dangers of the coast islands, drifted so far west that when it was caught in a violent easterly storm, it was driven upon the coast of Brazil, and thus proved that even if Columbus had not lived and sailed, America would have been made known to Europe in the very first year of the sixteenth century.

Thus it was that, not to speak in detail of the explorations of navigators of lesser note, the English explorers in the north, and the Spanish and Portuguese in the south, had, before the end of the year 1500, given to Europe a definite, though an incorrect, conception of the magnitude of the new world. There is no evidence that as yet anybody had supposed the newly discovered lands to be any other than the eastern borders of Asia and Africa. But it must have been evident enough to many others, as well as to King Ferdinand, that these new possessions were too vast and too important to be intrusted to the governorship of any one man. They appealed alike to ambition, to avarice, and to jealousy.

The policy adopted was one of delay. Columbus was naturally impatient to return to the office of which he had been deprived. The court, however, while treating him with every external consideration, would not bring itself to give an affirmative answer. Another course was finally adopted. It was agreed that Bobadilla should be removed, that another governor, who had had no part in the administrative quarrels, should be appointed for a term of two years, and that Columbus should be intrusted with a new exploring expedition.

The person chosen to supersede Bobadilla was Nicholas de Ovando, a commander of the Order of Alcantara. The picture given of him by Las Casas is one that might well conciliate the prepossessions of the reader. According to this high authority, he was gracious in manner, fluent in speech, had great veneration for justice, was an enemy to avarice, and had such an aversion to ostentation that when he arose to be grand commander, he would never allow himself to be addressed by the title attaching to his office. Yet he was a man of ardent temper, and so, in the opinion of Las Casas, was incapable of governing the Indians, upon whom he inflicted incalculable injury.

Before Ovando was ready to sail, there was considerable delay. It had been decided to give him command, not only of Hispaniola, but also of the other islands and of the mainland. The fleet was to be the largest yet sent to the western world. When at length it was ready, it mustered thirty sail, and had on board about twenty-five hundred souls.

That the new governor might appear with becoming dignity, he was allowed an unusual amount of ostentation. A sumptuous attire of silk brocades and precious stones was prescribed, and he was permitted a body-guard of seventy-two yeomen.

Las Casas accompanied this expedition, and consequently we have the great advantage of his own personal observations. He tells us that a great crowd of adventurers thronged the fleet,—“eager speculators, credulous dreamers, and broken-down gentlemen of desperate fortunes,—all expecting to enrich themselves with little effort.” But it is evident also that there was another class on which greater hopes might reasonably be placed. In the original accounts, significant attention is called to the fact that among those who formed the expedition there were seventy-three married men with their families, all of respectable character. Among those enumerated we notice, not only a chief-justice to replace Roldan, but a physician, a surgeon, and an apothecary,—in short, persons of all ranks that seemed to be necessary for the supply and the development of the island.

That the sovereigns were not unmindful of the rights of Columbus, was evinced by the provisions made for the protection of his interests. Ovando was ordered to examine into all the accounts, for the purpose of ascertaining the amount of the damages Columbus had suffered. All the property belonging to the Admiral that had been confiscated by Bobadilla was to be restored, and the same care was to be taken of the interests of the Admiral’s brothers. Not only were the arrears of the revenues to be paid, but they were also to be secured for the future. To this end Columbus was permitted to have an agent present at the smelting and the working of the gold, in order that his own rights might be duly protected.

But notwithstanding these evidences of royal favour, the Admiral was much depressed in spirit. In the course of the long months during which he was condemned to wait for the final action of the sovereigns, he had much time for reflection; and it is not singular that his thoughts turned to his long-neglected scheme for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre. From the years of his early manhood, the desirability of such an act had held possession of his soul. It was characteristic of his immoderate ardour that he even recorded a vow that within seven years from the time of the discovery he would furnish fifty thousand foot soldiers and four thousand horse for the accomplishment of this purpose. The time had elapsed, and the vow remained unfulfilled. It had not, however, passed out of his remembrance; and he now appealed to the monarchs to take the matter up as a national enterprise. The war with Granada had come to a victorious end; the Duke of Medina Sidonia had given new lustre to the Spanish name in Italy; the Spanish armies were now at leisure; Ferdinand and Isabella were firm supporters of the Church: and what could be more appropriate than that they should now prove their superior devotion and power by the vigorous presecution of an enterprise that had baffled the efforts of united Christendom for more than two centuries? The visionary element in the mind of Columbus was never more plainly revealed.

These dreamy speculations and importunities, however, were only temporary in their nature. The mind of the explorer soon reverted to more practical affairs. It was spurred on in this direction and in that by the successes of Portuguese explorers in the East. Vasco da Gama had shown that navigation beyond the Cape of Good Hope was practicable, and Pedro Cabral had not only gone as far as the marts of Hindostan, but had returned with ships laden with precious commodities of infinite variety. The discoveries in the West had thus far brought no return; and yet, according to every theory that Columbus had entertained, the islands he had discovered were only the border-land—only the fringe, so to speak—of that vast Eastern region that was flaming with Oriental gold. There must be a passage from the west that opened into the Indian Sea. The coast of Paria stretched on toward the west, the southern coast of Cuba extended in the same direction, and the currents of the Caribbean Sea seemed to indicate that at some point still farther west there was a strait that connected the waters of the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean. To discover such a passage was an ambition worthy even of the lofty spirits of Columbus. He believed that somewhere west or southwest of the lands he had discovered such a strait would be found; and it was to find such a passage that he resolved to undertake a fourth voyage.

Columbus appears to have remained at Granada with the court from December of 1499 until late in the year 1501. He then repaired to Seville, where he was able within a few months to fit out an exploring squadron of four ships. The insignificant size of vessels of those days may be inferred from the fact that, according to Fernando, the largest of the ships was of seventy tons’ burden, and the smallest of fifty. The crew consisted of one hundred and fifty men and boys, among whom were the Admiral’s brother, Don Bartholomew, and his son Fernando, the historian.

There were long and unaccountable delays, and the fleet did not sail from Cadiz before the 9th of May, 1502. Stopping for further supplies at St. Catherine’s and Arzilla, as well as at the Grand Canary and Martinique, it was not until the 25th that the westward voyage for the Indies was fairly begun. The first design was to go directly to the coast of Paria; but although the voyage was an unusually smooth one, Columbus, declaring one of the vessels to be unseaworthy, or at least to be in great need of repairs, decided to make for St. Domingo in order to effect an exchange of vessels. This port was safely reached before the end of June; but the object of his coming was destined to be speedily frustrated.

To avoid the consequences of a surprise, Columbus had taken the precaution to send one of his captains with despatches to inform Ovando of his approach and the nature of his errand. Besides referring to the condition of one of the ships, he begged the privilege of temporary shelter for his fleet. Columbus himself, in his letter, says nothing of any motive, excepting his desire to purchase a vessel to take the place of the one that had become disabled; but Fernando attributes to him the additional purpose of securing shelter from a violent storm which he saw to be impending. According to his son’s doubtful authority, the Admiral even ventured to advise that the departure of the fleet about to sail for Spain, with the treasures that Bobadilla had collected, should be delayed until the coming storm was past. Columbus himself, however, never made any such claim. But no part of the message was of any avail. It was evident that the new commander, Ovando, who had now been several months in power, was not free from ill-will toward the Admiral. Las Casas is of the opinion that he had received secret instructions from the sovereigns not to admit the Admiral to the island. It seems certain that at that time San Domingo abounded with enemies of Columbus, and the decision may have been reached simply by considerations of prudence. The hospitality of the harbour was refused, and the outgoing fleet of eighteen sail was not detained.

Denied the privilege of the harbour, Columbus drew his little fleet up under the shelter of the island. On the last day of June a terrible hurricane broke upon them. The vessels were torn from their moorings, and driven apart into the wide sea. Each of the ships lost sight of the others, and each supposed that all the others were lost. The fury of the winds and waves continued throughout many days and nights; and such was the raging tumult of the elements that it seemed impossible for a single vessel to escape. By what was considered a miraculous interposition of Providence, however, all the ships of Columbus out-rode the storm. The fact that the “unseaworthy” vessel survived with the others, gives colour to the suspicion that the claim of unseaworthiness was only a pretence for the purpose of getting access to the port. The vessel which the Admiral commanded was driven as far as Jamaica; and if we may believe the sweeping and unqualified language of the Admiral, “during sixty days there was no cessation of the tempest, which was one continuation of rain, thunder, and lightning.” In this same connection Columbus writes to the sovereigns: “Eighty-eight days did this fearful tempest continue, during which I was at sea, and saw neither sun nor stars. My ships lay exposed, with sails torn; and anchors, cables, rigging, boats, and a great quantity of provisions were lost. My people were very weak and humbled in spirit, many of them promising to lead a religious life, and all making vows and promising to perform pilgrimages, while some of them would frequently go to their messmates to make confession. Other tempests have been experienced, but never of so long a duration or so fearful as this.” But if the Admiral was finally successful in bringing the shattered remains of his fleet together, it was not until the 12th of September that they reached the place of safety and promise to which the commander gave the name Gracios À Dios. It was far otherwise with the larger squadron. The commander, after refusing to heed the predictions of the Admiral, had just set out for Spain. On board were Bobadilla and Roldan, as well as the others that had taken a prominent part in accusing Columbus, and securing his arrest and imprisonment. The vessels were also laden with so much gold and other articles of value as a relentless avarice and cruelty could bring together to justify the administration. The details of the disaster have not been preserved. All that we know is that of the eighteen vessels only four escaped complete destruction. Every important personage on board the fleet was lost. Of the four less unfortunate ships, three were in such a shattered condition that they were obliged to return to San Domingo, while only one, “The Needle,” was able to make its way to Spain. To the unquestioning religious faith of the time, the proof of providential direction was made complete by the singular fact that the gold on board “The Needle,” the poorest vessel of the fleet, was the portion that belonged to Columbus. Las Casas regards the event as a signal example of those awful judgments with which Providence sometimes overwhelms those who have incurred divine displeasure.

For a knowledge of the explorations of Columbus during the fourth voyage we are indebted to a very elaborate letter of the Admiral himself, and to the accounts by Fernando, Las Casas, and Porras, all of whom were, at the time, either with the Admiral or at San Domingo. The accounts do not agree in all particulars, but essentially they are not unlike. As to the general course of the expedition, and the reasons for the course taken, there is substantial agreement.

At the end of the succession of storms in the autumn of 1502 Columbus found himself among the islands south of Cuba. The way was now open for the prosecution of the design which had led to the organization of the expedition. He was in search of an open passage. His idea, of course, could not have been very clearly defined; for he still believed that the islands he had already visited were only the remote edge of the Asiatic continent. As yet he had no reason for definite belief as to whether Cuba was an island or was a part of the mainland; though, as we have already seen, he had once required his crew to swear on their return that it was the mainland, under penalty of having their tongues wrenched out in case of disobedience. As his purpose now was avowedly that of an explorer pure and simple, it would seem that three ways were clearly open to him. He had already in his second voyage made himself sufficiently familiar with eastern Cuba to know that whether an island or a part of the mainland, it was a vast projection into the east; and he must have inferred that its relations with the regions beyond could most easily and naturally be ascertained by sailing in a westerly direction, either along the northern or along the southern coast. The other course open to him was a bold push for new regions by sailing into the open sea to the southwest. The obvious disadvantage of this course was the fact that whatever might be discovered, the relations of the new regions to those already explored would still be involved in mystery. Whether Cuba were an island or a part of the continent, could not in this way be determined. In the way of promised advantages, moreover, this direction would seem to have held out no greater inducements than either of the others. If he had sailed along the northern coast of Cuba, he would have determined the fact of its insularity, and then would have been free to explore farther for the mainland. But the more promising course was on the other side of the island; for in this way the source of the currents, on which the navigator placed so much reliance, could have been traced,—or at least it could have been determined whether the phenomenal flow of waters originated, as Columbus supposed, in an open strait. The least promising course of all was the abandonment of Cuba and the striking out of an independent course to the southwest; for when land should be reached, there could be no determination whether the new coast had any connection with the land already discovered, and it would still be undetermined whether the strait for which he was searching, if it existed at all, lay to the east or to the west of the new landfall. But this least promising course was the one Columbus determined to take. It was a great blunder, for which no good reason has ever been given. Sailing in a southwesterly direction, the storms still continuing, he at length approached the mainland at a small island which he called the Isle of Pines. He then turned to the east, and in a few days reached the coast of Honduras. After waiting for a short time to trade with the natives, he kept on his way in the same general direction, in the face of a stormy current and violent winds. It was not until the 14th of September that they rounded the cape which in thankfulness to God he named Cape Gracios À Dios. At this point the current divided, a part flowing west, and a part south. Taking advantage of the latter, they proceeded down the Mosquito coast without difficulty. On the 25th of September they came to an inviting spot which he called the “Garden.” The natives seemed more intelligent than any Columbus had yet seen. In order that he might have a supply of interpreters, the Admiral seized seven of them, two of whom he retained by force even when, October 5, he sailed away. This forcible detention was greatly resented by the tribe, but the prayers of the emissaries sent for their release had no effect.

Pushing still farther south and east, the Spaniards came in about ten days to Caribaro Bay. The natives, who wore gold plates as ornaments, were defiant, and expressed their unwelcoming mood by blasts upon conch-shells and the brandishing of spears. The Spanish lombards, however, soon brought them to a more submissive spirit. A little farther along, the vessels came to Varagua, a territory lying just west of the Isthmus of Darien. Here the Admiral heard glowing accounts of gold not far away. His interpreters told him that ten days inland the natives revelled in the precious metals and all other valuable commodities. Had he listened and obeyed, he would have discovered the Pacific. But, for once, he turned a deaf ear to the allurement, and so lost his opportunity. That the natives hinted at the great waters beyond the isthmus, is plain from the words of Columbus. He says: “They say that the sea surrounds Cuguare, and that ten days’ journey from thence is the river Ganges.”

His farther voyage south brought no important results. The ships were worm-eaten, and the crew were clamorous for the gold of Varagua. On the 5th of December Columbus decided reluctantly to retrace his course. By one of those singular adversities of fortune, the winds which had hitherto blown strongly from the east now veered and blew as strongly from the west. Gale after gale followed. Columbus called it the “Coast of Contrasts.” The situation of the navigators became all the more desperate through the horrors of impending famine. Worms had made their bread revolting, and the crew were driven to catch sharks for food.

For weeks the violence of the storms continued. In attempting to make their way back, a full month was taken up by the Spaniards in passing a hundred miles. The whole winter was consumed without important results. At Varagua earnest hopes were entertained that the long-sought, but ever-elusive gold-fields were at length to be found. Columbus says that he saw more indications of gold in two days than he had seen in Hispaniola in four years; he therefore decided upon a settlement, and began to build houses. Eighty members of the crew were to be left to establish a permanent footing.

But misfortune succeeded misfortune. The natives began to organize for the purpose of making such a settlement impossible. In one of their conflicts the cacique, known as the Quibian, was taken prisoner by the Adelantado. He was intrusted to the care of a Spanish officer, who imprudently yielded to the chief’s persuasions to remove his shackles. The consequence was that in an unguarded moment the cacique sprang over the side of the boat and dived to the bottom. The night was dark, and as he came to the surface he was not detected. Columbus believed him drowned; but it soon appeared that he had reached the shore and organized so formidable an opposition to the settlement as to place the colony in extreme peril.

Provisions and ammunition now began to run short. The Admiral was tortured with gout, and this was followed by a fever. While affairs were in this condition a portion of the prisoners threw open a hatchway, and, thrusting the guards aside, plunged into the sea and escaped. Those who had failed to get away were thrust back into the hold; but in the morning it was found that they had all committed suicide by hanging. The resolute spirit thus shown was a sad foreboding of disaster. The sea was so rough that for days there could be no communication between the Admiral on ship and the Adelantado on shore. When at length a brave swimmer succeeded in reaching the land, he found a portion of Bartholomew’s force in revolt. The mutineers formed a plan to desert the commander and effect an escape to the ships. There was nothing to do but to rescue the colony, if possible, and abandon the coast.

When affairs appeared to be in a most hopeless condition, the tempest abated, and fair weather came on. One of the caravels, however, had been stranded and wrecked. In order to bring off the stores and the colony, a raft was constructed, and after long effort the survivors were rescued and taken aboard the remaining vessels. One of these, however, proved to be so much worm-eaten and otherwise disabled that it had to be abandoned. Taking the scanty stores into the two remaining caravels, the adventurers now turned their prows toward Hispaniola.

The course of the vessels, however, in order to meet the strong westerly currents, was eastward. The crew were thrown into consternation by the thought that the Admiral, notwithstanding the unseaworthy condition of the ships, was making for Spain. But Columbus had no such purpose. His design was to zigzag his course in such a manner that none of the crew could find the way back to the gold coast. He says that he remembered how a former crew had returned to the pearl-fisheries of Paria; and he now wrote: “None of them can explain whither I went, nor whence I came. They do not know the way to return thither.”

Having accomplished his bewildering purpose, the Admiral now turned to the northwest. Falling into the currents, the vessels floated beyond Hispaniola; and on the 30th of May they found themselves in the group of islands which Columbus had already called “The Gardens.” That his old delusion was still kept up, is evident from his declaration that he “had come to Mango, which is near Cathay.”

Here again a succession of storms came on and threatened to shatter the crazy hulks to pieces. Columbus tried to find shelter in the lee of one of the islands; but he lost all his anchors save one, and the crews were able to keep the ships afloat only by “three pumps, and the use of their pots and kettles.” Evidently this condition of affairs could not long continue. On the 23d of June he reached Jamaica, and a little later he saw no other course than to run both of his ships aground. The first he ran ashore on the 23d of July; and on the 12th of August he brought the other alongside, and managed to lash them together. The tide soon filled them with water. He built cabins on the forecastles, in which the crew could live until they could find relief.

The navigators’ scanty supply of food was ruined, and their first thought, therefore, was to barter for supplies with the natives. Fortunately, they were successful. Diego Mendez, the commander of one of the vessels, took the matter in hand, and making the circuit of the island in company with three other Spaniards, bargained advantageously with several of the caciques.

The next thought of the Admiral was to send to Ovando for a rescuing vessel. He proposed to Mendez that he should go in an open boat, as the only possible means of establishing a connection with San Domingo. Mendez offered to go in case no one else would volunteer. The others all held back. He then fitted up a row-boat, and taking one other Spaniard and six natives as oarsmen, committed himself to a voyage of nearly two hundred miles in those tempestuous waters.

To Mendez, Columbus committed a long letter addressed to the monarchs of Spain,—the very letter, no doubt, to which we are indebted for much of our knowledge of this disastrous voyage. It bears date July 7, 1503, and may well be regarded as the unmistakable evidence of a distracted, if not of an unbalanced, mind.

Though the writer had much to say of the voyage, the most prominent characteristic of the writing was its rambling and incoherent references to the troubles of his earlier years. It was a veritable appeal ad misericordiam, and was full of inaccuracies, not to say positive misstatements. He says,—

“I was twenty-eight years old when I came into your Highnesses’ services, and now I have not a hair upon me that is not gray, my body is infirm, and all that was left to me, as well as to my brother, has been taken away and sold, even to the frock that I wore, to my great dishonour. Solitary in my trouble, sick, and in daily expectation of death, I am surrounded by millions of hostile savages full of cruelty. Weep for me whoever has charity, truth, and justice.”

Surely this is not the outpouring of a great soul. On the contrary, it is simply pitiful; for it is impossible to forget that in earlier years he had described these “millions of hostile savages” as the embodiment of hospitable kindness. It was not until the innocent natives had learned by bitter experience that there was no device of avarice or cruelty or licentiousness of which they were not made the victims that their unsuspecting hospitality was turned into a prudent hostility. If Columbus was only twenty-eight when he entered the service of the Spanish monarchs, he must have been born in 1456; he must have been only eighteen when he had the correspondence with Toscanelli; and at the time of his writing, he must have been only forty-seven. Recurring to geographical affairs, he writes: “The world is but small; out of seven divisions of it, the dry part occupies six, and the seventh is entirely covered with water. I say that the world is not so large as vulgar opinion makes it.” Referring to his search for gold, he exclaims: “Gold is the most precious of all commodities; gold constitutes treasure; and he who possesses it has all the needs of this world, as also the means of rescuing souls from Purgatory and introducing them to the enjoyments of Paradise.”

After the departure of Mendez the long months of autumn and winter wore on. Columbus during much of the time was confined to his bed by illness. Discontents, and finally insubordination, became rife. The malcontents put themselves under the leadership of Francisco de Porras, a daring navigator, who at one time had commanded one of the vessels. On the 2d of January, 1504, Porras appeared in the cabin of the sick Admiral. An unfortunate altercation ensued, which resulted in dividing the little band into two hostile camps. The outcome was that Porras and forty-one others threw themselves into active rebellion. They took forcible possession of ten canoes, and committed themselves to the sea with the mad purpose of going to San Domingo. A short experience, however, was enough to drive them back, and they now devoted themselves actively to getting supplies from the natives of Jamaica. This of course interfered greatly with the comforts of Columbus and his little band. Indeed it might have proved fatal but for one of those ingenious expedients of which the mind of the Admiral was so prolific.

An eclipse of the moon was to take place on the night of February 29, 1504. Columbus caused it to be widely circulated among the natives that the God of the Spaniards was greatly displeased with their lack of loyalty, and was about to manifest his displeasure by an obscuration of the moon. As the eclipse came on, the words of the Admiral appeared to be verified. The natives were convulsed with fear. He now declared that the divine anger would be appeased if they would show proper contrition and would furnish the needed supplies. The caciques threw themselves at his feet, and promised everything he might need. Just before the moon was to emerge from the shadow, he assured them that the divine wrath was placated, and that a sign would soon be manifested. As the eclipse passed off, the astonishment and satisfaction of the poor wretches were complete. From that time Columbus had no lack of sufficient supplies. The expedition of Mendez was not without the most trying vicissitudes. Almost immediately after starting, the little bark encountered so heavy a sea that it was obliged to turn back. A few days later, however, another boat was ready, and Mendez committed himself a second time to this daring enterprise. Rough weather was encountered, and for a considerable period it seemed that all would be lost. One of the natives died, and his body was cast into the sea. But at length, in four days after leaving the eastern point of Jamaica, the Spaniards reached the port of Novissa, at the western end of Hispaniola. Mendez soon found that Ovando, instead of being at San Domingo, was engaged in suppressing a revolt in the western province of Zaroyna. Though Ovando was not so ungracious as to meet the question with a point-blank refusal, he showed no disposition to render prompt assistance. Thus it was that, in spite of all the urgency of Mendez, month after month passed away without action. It was only after there had come to be considerable popular clamour in favour of Columbus that Ovando saw the expediency of sending the necessary succour. It is more than probable that he would have been relieved to find that the rescuing ship had arrived too late. It was not until the 25th of June, 1504, that the Admiral and his little crew of wretched followers were gladdened by the sight of approaching relief. It is easy to understand how Columbus, a little later, could say that in no part of his life did he ever experience so joyful a day; for he had never hoped to leave the place alive. More than a year had passed in the tormenting experiences that followed the shipwreck on the northern coast of Jamaica.

Ovando extended to Columbus a gracious show of hospitality by making him a guest in his own household. But there was no real cordiality. It was not long, indeed, before an active dispute arose over an important question of jurisdiction. Ovando demanded the surrender of Porras, that he might be duly punished for his insurrection. Columbus held that however complete the jurisdiction of the governor might be over the island of Hispaniola, it did not extend to the crew of the Admiral. Ovando, though he did not formally yield the point, thought it not prudent to press the claim. There were also important differences in regard to the pecuniary rights of Columbus, whose agent had already become involved in serious difficulties. From all these untoward circumstances it became apparent that the stay of Columbus could not be advantageously prolonged. Accordingly, with such money as he could collect, he fitted out two vessels for a homeward voyage. He had arrived at San Domingo on the 15th of August. On the 12th of the following month the two vessels were ready for sea. Storm succeeded storm, however, and the ship of the Admiral had to be sent back for repairs. After a very tempestuous voyage, Columbus, with his brother and son, entered the port of San Lucar on the 7th of November, 1504.