king's treachery, left the court in disgust, and 
sending his brother, Bartholomew, to lay the plan before the King of 
England, himself proceeded to Spain, whose rulers, Ferdinand and 
Isabella, were perhaps the most enlightened of the age. Of 
Bartholomew's adventures in England little is known. One thing alone
is certain--England missed the great opportunity just as Portugal had. 
And for long years it seemed that, in Spain, Columbus would have no 
better fortune. The Spanish monarchs listened to him with interest--as 
who would not?--and appointed a council of astronomers and 
map-makers to examine the project and to pass upon its feasibility. This 
council, not without the connivance of the king and queen, who were 
absorbed in war with the Moors, and who, at the same time, did not 
wish the plan to be taken elsewhere, kept Columbus waiting for six 
years, alternating between hope and despair, and finally reported that 
the project was "vain and impossible of execution." 
Indignant at thought of the years he had wasted, Columbus determined 
to proceed to Paris, to seek an audience of the King of France. His wife 
was dead, and he started for Palos, with his little son, Diego, intending 
to leave the boy with his wife's sister there, while he himself journeyed 
on to Paris. Trudging wearily across the country, they came one night 
to the convent of La Rabida, and Columbus stopped to ask for a crust 
of bread and cup of water for the child. The prior, Juan Perez de 
Marchena, struck by his noble bearing, entered into conversation with 
him and was soon so interested that he invited the travellers in. 
Marchena had been Isabella's confessor, and still had great influence 
with her. After carefully considering the project which Columbus laid 
before him, he went to the queen in person and implored her to 
reconsider it. His plea was successful, and Columbus was again 
summoned to appear at court, a small sum of money being sent him so 
that he need not appear in rags. The Spanish monarchs received him 
well, but when they found that he demanded the title of admiral at once, 
and, in case of success, the title of viceroy, together with a tenth part of 
all profits resulting from either trade or conquest, they abruptly broke 
off the negotiations, and Columbus, mounting a mule which had been 
given him, started a second time for Paris. He had proceeded four or 
five miles, in what sadness and turmoil of spirit may be imagined, 
when a royal messenger, riding furiously, overtook him and bade him 
return. His terms had been accepted. 
This is what had happened: In despair at the departure of Columbus,
Luis de Santangel, receiver of the revenues of Aragon, and one of the 
few converts to his theories, had obtained an audience of the queen, and 
pointed out to her, with impassioned eloquence, the glory which Spain 
would win should Columbus be successful. The queen's patriotic ardor 
was enkindled, and when Ferdinand still hesitated, she cried, "I 
undertake the enterprise for my own crown of Castile. I will pledge my 
jewels to raise the money that is needed!" Santangel assured her that he 
himself was ready to provide the money, and advanced seventeen 
thousand florins from the coffers of Aragon, so that Ferdinand paid for 
the expedition, after all. 
It is in no way strange that the demands of Columbus should have been 
thought excessive; indeed, the wonderful thing is that they should, 
under any circumstances, have been agreed to. Here was a man, to all 
appearances a penniless adventurer, asking for honors, dignities and 
rewards which any grandee of Spain might have envied him. That they 
should have been granted was due to the impulsive sympathy of 
Isabella and the indifference of her royal consort, who said neither yes 
nor no; though, in the light of subsequent events, it is not improbable 
that the thought may have crossed his mind that royal favor may always 
be withdrawn, and that the hand which gives may also take away. 
But though Columbus had triumphed in this particular, his trials were 
by no means at an end. The little port of Palos was commanded by 
royal order to furnish the new Admiral with two small vessels known 
as caravels. This was soon done, but no sailors were willing to embark 
on such a voyage, the maddest in all history. Only by the most extreme 
measures, by impressment and the release of criminals willing to 
accompany the expedition in order to get out of jail, were crews finally 
provided. A third small vessel was secured, and on the morning of 
Friday, August 3, 1492, this tiny fleet of three boats, the Santa Maria, 
the Pinta and the Niña, whose combined crews numbered less than 
ninety men, sailed out    
    
		
	
	
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