Before following our happy Admiral into the presence of the king and queen, let us remain in Palos a little moment with that other courageous navigator, Martin Alonzo Pinzon. Poor Martin was not happy; in fact, he was very miserable. He had slunk from his storm-battered caravel and into his house without saying a word to any one. His wife, overjoyed at seeing him, threw her arms around him.

"Oh, my good Martin!" she exclaimed, "we were mourning you as dead! Cristobal Colon believed that you and your Pinta had gone to the bottom off the Azores!"

"I only wish I had!" groaned Martin, dejectedly. "I only wish I had!"

Perhaps you think he was repenting too deeply of that insubordination off the coast of Cuba, 'way back in November. No, it was not that; Martin had another matter to regret now, more's the pity; for he was a good sailor and a brave, energetic man, ready to risk his life and his money in the discovery. He knew that, next to Columbus, he had played the most important part in the discovery, and he now realized that he was not to share the honor in what he considered the right proportion. He felt ill-used; moreover his health was shattered.

When the two vessels became separated in the storm off the Azores, he concluded just what the Admiral concluded—that the other ship had gone down. He considered it a miracle that even one of those mere scraps of wood, lashed about in a furious sea, should have stayed afloat; but both of them,—no! two miracles could never happen in one night!

And so when he scanned the horizon next morning and saw no Nina, and when he kept peering all that day through the storm and the little Nina never came in sight, a mean idea made its way into Captain Pinzon's brain; and it grew and grew until it became a definite, well- arranged plan.

"The Admiral has gone down with all aboard," he reasoned to himself. "Now, if my ship ever reaches Spain, why shouldn't I say that when Columbus failed to find land seven hundred leagues west of the Canaries, where he expected to find it, I persuaded him to accompany me still farther, and led him to Cipango."

Martin kept nursing this plan of robbing the dead Admiral of glory, until one morning he found himself off the Spanish coast just north of the Portuguese border. Into the little port of Bayona he put, and wrote a letter, and hired a courier to deliver it; that done, he sailed south along Portugal for Palos, probably passing the mouth of the Tagus only a few hours after Columbus, bound for the same port, had turned out into the Atlantic. Martin Pinzon may thank his luck that the Nina started home before him. Imagine his utter shame and confusion had he been the first to enter Palos with his perverted news!

As it was, things were bad enough. He heard the Palos bells ringing, and saw the people thronging along the shore to look at the wonderful little boat that had traveled in such far waters; his heart sank. The Admiral was home, and he, Martin Pinzon, he had sent from Bayona to their Majesties a letter in which were certain false statements. No wonder he sneaked off of his ship in the dusk and wrapped his cape high around his face and hurried to his house. No wonder he felt no happiness in seeing his good wife again, and could only groan and groan.

Martin went to bed—his spirits were very low, and the stormy passage had racked his old body as well; so he lay down; and the next day he could not get up, nor the next; and when, in due time, a royal letter came, thanking him for the aid he had given Columbus, but reproaching him for statements he had made which did not agree with those of the Admiral concerning the voyage, then Martin never wanted to get up again; he had himself carried to La Rabida, where he died in a few days, the good friars comforting him. So no more of Martin Alonzo Pinzon, whose end was inglorious, but whose courage and enterprise were later remembered gratefully by Spain; for Charles V., Queen Isabella's grandson, made public acknowledgment of Pinzon's great services in discovering the New World.

And now to pleasanter things. What has the Admiral been doing since the Palos bells pealed out their joyous welcome to him? First, of course, he greeted the good Friar Juan Perez. And next he dispatched another letter to court announcing his discovery. In fact, he sent several letters; for, as we know, he was an energetic letter-writer; one to their Majesties, one to Luis de Santangel, King Ferdinand's treasurer, who had urged the queen to help him, and one to another friend at court. Here is the beginning of the Santangel letter:—

Senor:

As I know you will have pleasure in the great success which Our Lord hath given me in my voyage, I write you this by which you shall know that in thirty-three days I passed over to the Indies where I found very many islands peopled with inhabitants beyond number.

"I passed over to the Indies." says the letter. The writer, we see, has decided to give his islands the vague general name that Europe applied to all unknown, distant lands—the Indies. Christopher was always ready to take a chance. If, as he had probably begun to hope, the western path might ultimately lead to India, why not at once adopt that important name?

His letters sent off to court by fast courier, the Admiral himself said good-by to Friar Juan and leisurely followed them. Ferdinand and Isabella, at this time, happened to be in the remotest possible point from Palos, in Barcelona, the great seaport of northeastern Spain. It was a long, long land journey for a seaman to make, but Christopher Columbus did not mind, for every step of it was glory and triumph. He who had once wandered over this same land from city to city, obscure, suspected of being either a visionary or an adventurer, had returned as a great personage, an Admiral of Spain, a Viceroy, a Governor; and, best of all, a practical discoverer instead of a mere dreamer. Every town he passed through acclaimed him a most wonderful man.

Besides, he had brought them proofs of his discovery—those six strange people called "Indians"; these, along with an iguana and some red flamingoes, parrots, and unfamiliar plants, were exhibited in every town, and every town gaped in wonder, and crowded close to get a view of the Admiral and his Indios, and to whisper in awed tones, "and there is much gold, too, but he is not showing that!"

All this was very gratifying to the Admiral; but even more so was his reception when he arrived finally at Barcelona. Here he was met at the city gates by a brilliant company of caballeros, or Spanish nobility, who escorted him and his extraordinary procession through the streets of the quaint old town. We may be sure that the authorities made the most of what the discoverer had brought back; the Indians were ordered to decorate themselves with every kind of color and every kind of feather. The tropical plants were borne aloft, and it was rumored that merely to touch them would heal any sort of malady.

Most imposing of all, there was shown a table on which was every golden bracelet and ornament that had been collected. To be sure, these were not numerous, but everybody hinted to everybody else that they were but a few articles out of Columbus's well-filled treasure-ship. The discoverer himself, richly clad, mounted on a fine horse, and surrounded by gorgeously accoutered caballeros, brought up the rear of this unique procession. What shouting as he passed! and later what reverent thanksgiving! Barcelona was no insignificant little port like Palos, to be stupefied at the wonder of it; Barcelona was one of the richest and most prosperous seaports of Europe, and could look upon the discovery intelligently; and precisely because she herself had learned the lesson that trade meant wealth, she rejoiced that this wonderful new avenue of commerce had been opened for Spain.

The display over, the king and queen invited Columbus to tell his story. Now had arrived the most critical moment since his return; but our Admiral, it is to be regretted, did not realize it, else he would have been more guarded in what he said. He should have told a straightforward tale of what he had done, without one word of exaggeration; but Christopher had a fervid Italian imagination and could never resist exaggerating. So, instead of dwelling on the one stupendous, thrilling fact that he had sailed three thousand miles into the fearsome west and discovered new lands; instead of making them feel that he was great because of what he had done, and letting it go at that, the foolish man filled his narrative with absurd promises of miracles he would perform in the future. But none of it did seem absurd to him! He had persuaded himself, by this time, that west of his poor, uncivilized islands lay richer countries; and so he did not hesitate to assure the sovereigns that he had discovered a land of enormous wealth, and that if they would equip another expedition, he stood ready to promise them any quantity of gold, drugs, and cotton, as well as legions of people to be converted to Christianity.

Indeed, he went much further, and made a solemn vow that he, from his own personal profits in the discovery, would furnish, within seven years, an army of four thousand horse and fifty thousand foot for the purpose of reclaiming the Holy Sepulchre! Imagine a man pledging this, just because he had gathered a few gold bracelets! And yet, as he stood there in all the glamour of the court, with a whole nation regarding him as a wonder, he was so carried away by the situation that he probably actually saw himself leading a triumphant crusade! As for the king and queen, so deeply affected were they that they fell on their knees then and there and poured forth their thanks to God.

The good Bartolome de las Casas (the priest who devoted his life to the Indians) was present and has described this memorable interview. Columbus, he says, was very dignified and very impressive with his snow- white hair and rich garments. A modest smile flitted across his face "as if he enjoyed the state and glory in which he came." When he approached the monarchs, they arose to greet him as though he were the greatest hidalgo in the land; and when he dropped on his knee to kiss their hands, they bade him rise and seat himself in their presence. Surely this was a great day for the humble Genoese sailor. He was Don Cristobal henceforth, with the right to select a noble coat of arms. For his sake his brothers Bartholomew and Diego (James) were to receive appointments, and his son Diego was to be brought to court and educated. Then, after securing the welfare of these members of his family, Columbus wrote to his old father, the wool-comber in Genoa, and sent him some money.

All this shows his good heart toward his own people; for toward one not his own was he guilty of an ignoble act. It was to that sailor Rodrigo, of the Pinta, who had been the first to sight land early on the morning of October 12. When Columbus was asked to whom the queen's promised reward of ten thousand maravedis should go, he replied, "To myself." Surely it could not have been because he wanted the money for its own sake; it did not equal twenty-five dollars, and he had already received a goodly sum on arriving in Barcelona; it must have been that he could not bear to share the glory with another, and so told himself that the light he saw bobbing up and down early that night was carried by a human being, and the human being must have been in a canoe, near the island. On the strength of this argument he claimed the money Rodrigo had expected to receive.