American Men of Action | Page 7

Burton E. Stevenson
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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