For if the wind always blew
steadily from the east how was it possible ever to return to Spain? So
Columbus was almost glad when a contrary wind blew. For it proved
to his trembling sailors that one at least of their fears was
groundless. But it made little difference. The men were now utterly
given over to gloomy terrors.
Fear robbed them of all ambition. Ferdinand and Isabella had
promised a large sum of money to the man who should first discover
land. But none cared now to win it. All they desired was to turn
home once more.
Fear made them mutinous also. So they whispered together and planned
in secret to rid themselves of Columbus. It would be easy, they
thought, to throw him overboard some dark night, and then give out
that he had fallen into the sea by accident. No one would know. No
one in Spain would care, for Columbus was after all but a foreigner
and an upstart. The great ocean would keep the secret. They would
be free to turn homeward.
Columbus saw their dark looks, heard the murmurs of the crews, and
did his best to hearten them again. He spoke to them cheerfully,
persuading and encouraging, "laughing at them, while in his heart
he wept."
Still the men went sullenly about their work. But at length one
morning a sudden cry from the Pinta shook them from out their sullen
thoughts.
It was the captain of the Pinta who shouted.
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