September 1492
Diego de San Gil’s first experience on the open sea was a nightmare of dizziness, vomiting, and an almost constant feeling of nausea. Memories of Elena, his father and brother, along with his inability to adjust to the ship’s food made the first few days on the ocean pure hell for him.
Luckily, their first port of call was Gomera in the Canary Islands. A journey of no more than three days. With the help of Juan Sanchez, the ship’s physician, the short journey allowed Diego to find his sea legs, and sufficient time to come to grips with the ship’s food.
The stop in the Canaries was required to repair, and re-fit the Nina. To pick up fresh water, wood, and the famous Gomera goat cheese.
After a delay of almost four weeks, and a number of false starts because of calm winds, today, September 6, there would be another attempt to begin the journey west. Aboard the flag ship the Santa Maria, Diego, along with the other seafaring crews 115
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of the Nina and Pinta, experienced the dread of not knowing what lie ahead of them.
By midday, apprehension had become frustration and anger.
As calm winds, along with problems with the Pinta’s rudder, allowed the ships to travel only as far as the western most Canary island of Hierro.
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Cristobal Colon, Captain General of the expedition, and admiral of the fleet, paced his cabin floor. Thinking, Dios mío, if the trade winds do not return very soon the expedition will be in a risky position. If too much time is lost the winds may not return until next year. Continuing to pace the cabin the admiral suddenly found himself reciting. “Ki Yashar Adonai…For the Lord is just…”Realizing he had just uttered Hebrew words from a psalm he had learned years ago, he made sure no one had heard him.
Words from my past, which I must be careful never to speak again, he thought. But the words calmed him, soothed the press of problems facing him. Brought memories flooding back.
Memories of his mother, Susanna, who afforded him the means to think about all the wonders of the world.
Susanna Fonterossa, daughter of Jacobo Fonterossa, hid her Jewish roots well. But did an excellent job of passing them onto her oldest son. Against the wishes of his father, she related to him stories from the Torah. Reciting psalms, teaching him the about the holy days, opened Colon’s mind, and focused his hunger to learn. She also taught him ways to keep this part of his life secret. So secret, that as time passed, it became a dim memory stored in the recesses of his mind, becoming discernible at odd and strange times. Although Colon’s family never attended a “courtyard,” he realized at an early age that the Catholicism the family practiced openly was really secondary to their true beliefs. Realizing, when he became an adult, that not 116
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embracing Christianity completely, and turning away from his Jewish roots would have meant he would have to live his life as a poor weaver. Just as his father had done. Burning ambition caused him to seek an education. To learn, to read and write, go to sea and become the admiral and explorer he was today.
Forcing himself to return to the problems at hand, Colon began to consider some solutions. With little to do, the crews were becoming quite restless, and tempers were beginning to flare. Luckily most of the crews were from Andalusia, knew each other, limiting most of the disputes to squabbling over minor gambling issues.
Thinking, they must be kept busy, that is the only way to prevent their bickering. A knock on his cabin door gave him pause.
“Enter,” he called out.
Meekly entering, but saluting smartly , Pedro de Terreros, the cabin boy, excitedly informed the admiral, “The winds have returned, Captain General, Señor Nino requests your presence on deck to issue the proper orders.”
“Eh, bueno, inform the pilot I will be there immediately. And have the boatswain unfurl the top-sails at once.”
“Si, mi Capitán,” the boy answered as he hurriedly left the cabin to deliver the messages.
Silently saying a prayer of thanks. Colon quickly made the following entry to his daily log:
Noon, September 8, the year of Our Lord 1492
Underway again, I pray the winds continue…
Completing the entry, he made his way to the main deck where he found the pilot in a discussion with Juan de la Cosa, the owner and master of the ship.
“Caballeros— gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?”
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The pilot Señor Nino answered, “A minor one, Admiral, it seems the master thinks our course should be due west. I am of the opinion that a course southwest is our most promising route.”
“The winds, gentlemen, will decide our route. We will correct our course as required to follow a westward passage. For now let us get underway. Signal the Nina and Pinta to follow at a distance of no more than a half league.”
Feeling the relief of finally being on their way, Colon found himself silently reciting, “Lecha Levadcha—To you alone we give thanks…” as he went about directing the various activities of the ship.
Diego de San Gil stood on deck amazed at the amount of activity going on around him. Sails were being hoisted, equipment being tied down, men moving about in all directions.
Although his official designation was interpreter. No formal duties had been assigned to him. The initial preparation of the charts he and Señor Zacuto had prepared seemed satisfactory.
Now he found himself with nothing to do, but observe the ocean and prepare himself for whatever the journey would bring.
It also gave him time, too much he felt, to think about all that he left behind. Where was his father, brother, Elena? What was happening to their lives? What were they turning into? Would he ever see them again? Giving in to the emotions that were overwhelming him, Diego softly sobbed, repeating to himself over and over. Why God, why?
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