THE MEN WHO DISCOVERED THE WORLD
Stories of the Early Voyagers
IT is difficult for us who live in these days of swift travel, wireless telegraphy, palatial ships, and so forth, to realise what it meant to go a-voyaging in the Middle Ages and thereabouts. Then men set out chartless, at one time compassless, in ships which were mere cockle-boats, to traverse unknown seas (there are no unknown seas to-day!) in quest of new lands, not knowing really whether there were any new lands to discover. They went, as it were, into the darkness of the unknown, with all its terrors and dangers; and going, discovered the world.
Tradition had it that out in the Atlantic were some islands called by the ancients the Fortunate Islands; and the thirst for wider geographical knowledge came with the discovery of these, and the discovery of Madeira, in the fifteenth century; and out of the mists of the legends there shone elusive islands which, though men sought, they could not find. Then, as men grew bolder, and travelled overland to Cathay, or China, to bring back wonderful stories, with all the glamour of the East about them, Europeans cried for more and more light upon the world beyond Europe.
And the age of discovery began.
In the mind of every voyager was the one great objective—Cathay. But the way there? One school said westwards; the other said that only by circumnavigating the coasts of Africa could Cathay be reached. We know now, as they discovered after many, many years, that both routes led to the East, but that in between Europe and Asia, via the West, lay a mighty continent of whose existence they had never dreamed; and which, when they did discover it, they thought was Asia.
We cannot go into details of the many voyages which were undertaken both to the south and the west; we must content ourselves with the first voyage round the Cape of Good Hope, the first sea trip to China, and the first voyage of the great Columbus.
“A mighty gale caught Diaz and carried his frail craft before it”
It fell to the lot of Bartholomew Diaz to achieve the first of these great epoch-marking events in the world’s history. Many men, under the patronage of Prince Henry the Navigator, of Portugal, had passed along the African coast, and by 1484 Diego Cam had partly explored the Congo; but two years later Diaz, heedless of the fears and warnings of his crew, sailed past the Congo, with the firm determination to get into the Indian Ocean, or at least to pass the extremity of Africa, if there were an extremity. Of that no one was sure. Diaz went round that point without knowing it; a mighty storm caught him, and carried his frail ship before it, and when the gale passed over Diaz found himself off a coast which trailed away eastwards and ever eastwards. His men, fearful of they knew not what, beseeched him to turn back, but for several days Diaz held on his way. This eastward trend of the coast meant something, though what it was he could not say. At last the crew refused to go any farther; the unknown held too many terrors for them, and they considered they had done sufficient. They had gone farther, they knew, than any mariners before them. Why keep on at the risk of being lost? So Diaz had reluctantly to give way. He turned his vessel round, passed down the coast, going southward, with the land on his right—to him a significant fact. He realised its full significance later when, passing a great promontory, which, because of the storms that prevailed there, he called the Cape of Storms, he found the land still on his right, while the ship was sailing northwards. He had been round Africa!
Promptly Diaz landed, and, as was the custom, erected a pillar in the name of the King of Portugal, and thus laid claim to the new land he had discovered. Then home he went, full of joy at his achievement, to receive a mighty welcome at Court when he had told his story. The name of the southernmost cape thus discovered was renamed the Cape of Good Hope; and thus it has been known ever since.
One would have thought that this voyage would have spurred on other voyagers to follow in the track thus laid down; but for some reason or other it was ten years before an expedition was dispatched to carry it farther and try to reach Cathay by that route. Vasco da Gama was the leader of this expedition, which left the Tagus on July 7, 1497, five years after Columbus had set out for the unknown West. It consisted of three ships, which became separated soon after starting, only to meet at Cape Verde Islands. Then for four months they fought their way through storms until they reached St. Helena, where, although they were badly in need of provisions, they could get none, because the natives were so unfriendly. So southward they went, and at last came to the Cape of Good Hope, which it took them two days to sail round, owing to the terrific storm that raged. The crew, terrified at the tumultuous seas, prayed da Gama to turn back.
“We cannot pass this awful cape!” they cried.
“If God preserve us,” answered da Gama boldly, “we will pass the cape and make our way to Cathay. For that honour will be given us, and we shall get much wealth.”
But, though he thus appealed to their cupidity, the crew were not to be calmed; and their dissatisfaction gave rise to conspiracy. They intended to mutiny, and force da Gama to turn back, or else kill him out of hand, and then do what they wanted to do.
Da Gama, however, received information of the plot from some of the men who were still faithful to him, and were willing to follow him where he would lead. Knowing that stern measures would be necessary now that softer ones had failed, da Gama plotted on his own account. He had each man brought into his cabin to discuss the matter, and as soon as a head showed inside the door the man was seized and put in irons. In this way every one of the dissatisfied men was taken prisoner; and da Gama found himself left with a mere handful of men to work the ship. Yet did he persist in going on; he would not be deterred, and, though all worked hard in face of what they thought was certain death, yet they weathered the cape, and presently were on the way up the east coast of Africa. Then da Gama freed his prisoners, who were shamefaced as they came on deck, to find themselves in this new sea, safely past the storm they had feared.
On Christmas Day, after having been in at various places, da Gama came to Natal, named thus in honour of the Nativity, broke up one of his ships there, as she was unseaworthy, and then went on, reaching Mozambique on March 10. Here he met trouble again. Mozambique was in the possession of the Moors, who did a fine trade with the Indies and the Red Sea, and, naturally, resented the intrusion of the Portuguese. They saw their trade being taken from them. They therefore did all they could to destroy or capture the intrepid voyagers, who, however, outwitted them every time. At each place where they put in they fell foul of the Moors, until they reached Melinda, where they were received with honour, and were able to secure as many provisions as they wanted.
Da Gama, always with his eyes open to discover what commercial advantages were to be gained from his voyage, saw with delight that at Melinda there were many large ships which bore the riches of India in their holds; and, realising that that meant much to Portugal, as soon as the monsoons would allow him, hurried on his way across the Indian Ocean, having secured the services of a good native pilot. On May 20, 1498, the two ships reached Calicut—the first vessels which had arrived in India by the direct sea route.
It was an epoch-marking accomplishment, for it opened up the Far East to Europe in a way that had not been done before; trade could be carried on much more easily than by the overland route, with its many dangers. All the riches of the East—spices, peppers, and what not—were to be had by the Portuguese now. The commercial importance of the voyage was greater than that of any voyage yet undertaken, for even that of Columbus had not begun to bear the fruit it was to bear later on.
Da Gama, however, found that things were not so rosy as they had seemed; the Moors held the trade of Calicut in their hands. It was the trading centre of the merchants of Ceylon and the Moluccas—indeed, of all the Malabar coast—and the Moors there, like those at Mozambique, feared the coming of the Europeans. When they discovered that da Gama had obtained permission from the zamorin, or native chief, to trade, they plotted for his destruction, inducing the zamorin to take him prisoner and capture his ships, telling him that these white men would surely come in their hundreds and take possession of his territory. Of course, the native viewed the prospect with anything but pleasure, and when da Gama, laden with rich gifts, landed, he tried to capture him. Da Gama, however, slipped through his fingers, reached his ships, and sailed away, vowing to return and to take vengeance.
Leaving Calicut in a rage, the voyager traded with another chief at Cannanore, and, having laden his vessels with rich spices and peppers, set out on the return voyage, reaching Lisbon in September, 1499; and the whole nation went wild with delight at the glorious vista opened to it.
Da Gama went back to Calicut later on to take his revenge. He allied the King of Cannanore with him, and wrought havoc with the zamorin’s trading vessels; then sailed to Cochin China, where he established a factory—the first factory in the East, and the beginning of Portuguese power in the Orient.
We must now go back a few years, and glance at the story of the first voyage of Columbus, the man who stands out as a landmark in the history of the world. He marks the beginning of the new geographical knowledge; the old world is one side of him, the new the other. For years he had been studying all the maps and charts that he could get hold of, and had imbibed the new knowledge that was being taught regarding the shape of the earth, until at last he came to believe that Asia could be reached by sailing to the west. He tried this Court and that, only to receive rebuffs and meet with delays that sickened him. He sent his brother Bartholomew to the King of England; but his messenger was captured by pirates, and when he was released, and proceeded on his way to the English Court, where his proposal was accepted, it was too late; Christopher Columbus had set forth upon his venture perilous, under the patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, who, after much vacillation, and not a little treachery, had agreed to father the expedition, which consisted of three small vessels. These were the Santa Maria, on which Columbus himself sailed, the Pinta, commanded by Martin Alonzo Pinzon, and the Nina, captained by Pinzon’s brother, Vincente Yanez Pinzon.
After receiving the blessing of the Church, the expedition set sail from Palos with a pressed crew, for few men could be found willing to embark on such a desperate venture. In less than a week they were compelled to put in at the Canaries to refit the ships, which had been buffeted about by adverse winds and stormy seas. When this work was done, Columbus set out again, despite the murmurings of his pressed crew, who often cast longing eyes back to the East, hardly daring to think of what might await them in the West, whither men had not ventured before. The unknown held dread terrors for them, and at every league they became more disaffected, so that Columbus found it necessary to keep two reckonings—one correct, for himself, and the other incorrect, for the satisfaction of the crews. His own showed the real distance from home; theirs showed them that they were nearer home than they had imagined themselves to be.
Two hundred leagues west of the Canaries a ship’s mast was seen floating, and the frightened crews became more scared than ever; they took it for a portent of their own fate. Then the needle of the compass showed a variation; it ceased to point to the North Star, and this was the most dreadful thing of all to these men, who knew nothing of hemispheres. Columbus did his utmost to cheer and inspire them with confidence, telling them of the glory that awaited them when the voyage was over, and assuring them that they could not be a very long way from land. As if to prove him true, next day, September 14, two birds hovered round the ships; later weeds were seen floating on the surface of a kind that grow on river banks and among rocks; then, later still, more birds were seen—birds that they knew never slept on the sea. And all these things seemed to be heralds of land.
So the dissatisfied crew took heart again, and, with a steady breeze helping them, the ships sped on their unknown way, every man eagerly looking out across the vast sea in the hope of being the first to sight the land, the reward for which was to be a pension.
But as day succeeded day, and no land was seen, the spirits of the adventurers drooped, and when they ran into a vast sea of weeds, which made it difficult for the vessels to hold on their way, all hopes of ever reaching home again were dashed to the ground. Then the wind dropped, and the ships were becalmed. Never did Fate play so scurvy a trick with a mariner as it did with Columbus, who knew that the success of his voyage—the great ambition of his life—depended upon the men who sailed with him. He heard their murmurings, knew that it would not be long before they broke out into open mutiny; but still he would not swerve from his purpose.
Then one day they came to him with determination in their eyes and black murder in their hearts. They would go back, they said; they would venture no farther on this mad voyage which could lead to nowhere but death. They had, indeed, made up their minds to pitch him overboard if he would not turn the ship about and go home.
Columbus, firm in his own belief that land lay to the west, and determined that he would not turn back until he had seen it, stood before the mutineers boldly. He argued with them, coaxed them, even bullied them, vowed he would hold on to the course he had mapped out. Then, seeing that he must temporise, he promised that, if they would stand by him for three more days, he would turn back if no land were discovered. He gained his point; the crew returned to their duties, and, by the greatest good luck, shortly afterwards new signs of land came to cheer the men.
Besides a quantity of fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they saw a green fish of a kind that keeps about rocks, then a branch of thorn with berries on it, and recently separated from the tree, floated by them. Then they picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a staff, artificially carved.
And where there had been mutiny and threats there was now discipline and rejoicing; and no man murmured, or thought of the distance they had come. All were eager to be the first to catch sight of the land they believed to be near. Columbus himself, overwhelmed with joy at the thought that triumph was at hand, did not sleep that night, and had the ships hove to, lest they miss the land in the night darkness. On each vessel every man was wide awake, straining his eyes through the darkness. At about one o’clock Columbus thought that he saw a light shining in the west, far away from the ships. He immediately pointed it out to; the men on his vessel; but with one exception they attached little importance to it. They thought themselves fools when, an hour later, a sailor cried:
“Land! Land!” And, pointing, showed them a dim outline on the horizon. Daylight came, and with it clearer vision; and before them stretched a low, tree-covered island.
The sight of it drove them almost wild with joy. Here, after weeks of voyaging through seas unknown, they had come to land, when they had told themselves there was no land to be found, when they had harboured thoughts of murder against the man who led them. They threw themselves on deck at his feet, and implored his forgiveness; and Columbus knew that he had these men fast in his grip, that they would follow him anywhere.
As for himself, his pleasure knew no bounds; all the dreams of the years were to be fulfilled, all his hopes were to be realised, the glory of reaching Asia via the west was to be his. Had he but known! Had he but realised that something even greater than this had been achieved; that near at hand lay a vast continent undreamt of by his fellows, despite the tradition that the Norsemen had hundreds of years before found a country to the west, far north from this spot.
On October 12, 1492, Columbus, in all the glory of his official robes as representative of the majesty of Spain, landed on the island with his men and the officials sent by the King to give authority to the expedition. The Royal Standard of Spain was planted, and the adventurer fell upon his knees, kissed the ground, and declared the land to belong to the dominions of the Spanish sovereigns.
The island was inhabited, and from the natives Columbus learned that it was named Guanahani. The Spaniards renamed it San Salvador—its present name. It is one of the group known as the Bahamas, at the entrance of the Gulf of Mexico.
The natives themselves, when they saw the strange ships coming towards the island, fled, not knowing what they might be, for never had they seen anything like them. As they were not pursued, however, they plucked up enough courage to come back, and very soon were making friends with the new-comers, who, thinking they were on one of the islands off the coast of India, called the natives Indians—the name still borne by the aborigines of the New World.
Almost every one of the natives was bedecked with ornaments made of gold; and the Spaniards were eager to find out whence the metal came. The natives told them by signs that it came from the south—far away; and the three vessels were presently ploughing the seas again, exploring the coast of San Salvador, by the aid of several guides. Other islands were seen in the neighbourhood, and these, too, were explored, Columbus believing that they tallied with Marco Polo’s description of certain islands lying off China. But no trace of gold was found; each time the natives pointed them to the south, and referred to a great king, whom Columbus imagined to be the Great Khan.
Then one day he gathered that near at hand was a great island called Cuba, and from the description given him believed it to be Cipango (Japan), which reports had credited with vast riches—gold and precious stones. So to Cuba the three ships sailed, reaching the island at the end of October, and taking possession of it in the name of the King of Spain.
Here the natives, after a time, received him kindly, and the answers to the sign-questions he put to them made him more convinced than ever that this was Cipango. He therefore searched it, seeking for the Great Khan; but at last gave up in despair, and sailed off to discover other islands. At this time Martin Pinzon, in the Pinta, deserted him, and, although Columbus waited many days for his return, he did not come back; and when, in December, Columbus set sail, he went with only two ships. On December 6 they sighted a large island, which, because of its beauty and similarity with Spain, they named Hispaniola. Here, again the natives were friendly, and parted with many of their gold ornaments in exchange for little trinkets the mariners had brought with them. What filled them with joy that they could hardly contain was the news that the island abounded in riches. Gold, they were told, was to be obtained in plenty; and Columbus, who had taken the island in the name of Spain, resolved, when misfortune robbed him of another of his ships, to leave some of his men behind to learn the language of the natives, trade with them for gold, and explore the island for gold mines.
The disaster, which left him with only one ship, occurred through negligence. The Santa Maria was wrecked, and Columbus and his crew only escaped with great difficulty. By hard work they managed to get all the goods and guns out of her before she went to pieces, and with the latter Columbus built a fort for the security of the men he intended to leave behind, calling it La Navidad.
Then, on January 4, 1493, Columbus set sail from Hispaniola in the smallest of the vessels he had come out with, namely, the Nina, steering eastward along the coast. Presently he fell in with Pinzon, whom he reproved for his desertion. Pinzon asserted that he had been separated in a storm, but actually he had left Columbus, intending to return home and claim the honours that were due to his leader. Columbus, however, rather than have bitterness aroused, hid his anger, and the two ships sailed in company until February 1, when a terrific gale separated them again.
So dreadful was the storm that Columbus despaired of ever reaching home with his wonderful news; and many were the vows taken as to what the mariners would do if Heaven spared them. Lots were cast as to who should undertake a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Guadalope, and it fell to Columbus. But the storm still held on. Then they all vowed to go in their shirts to a church of Our Lady, if she would vouchsafe them a safe voyage home.
The poor Nina, tossed about, seemed as though she would turn over at every big wave that broke upon her; all her provision casks were empty, and so she was in a poor way through lack of ballast. Columbus solved that problem by filling the casks with water, which steadied the ship, and enabled her to ride out the storm, during which Columbus had been afraid lest he should never reach Spain with the wonderful news of his discovery. He therefore wrote down an account on parchment, which he signed and sealed, wrapped in oilcloth and wax, and consigned to the deep in a cask. Another copy was packed in a similar way, and set upon the top of the poop, so that if the Nina went down the cask might float and stand a chance of carrying its precious contents to some port, or be picked up by some ship. But, fortunately, the storm eased off, and presently they reached harbour at St. Mary’s, one of the Azores.
The mariners, exhausted after their struggle with the storm, but grateful for having been able to come through it, saw a hermitage on a hill, and resolved that some of them should undertake a pilgrimage of thanks at once. So half the ship’s crew went ashore in their shirts, carrying candles; but hardly had they landed when the Portuguese Governor of St. Mary’s came down with a large body of soldiers and took them prisoners. The Portuguese were jealous of the great sailor, and what he had achieved.
Columbus was angry at this treachery. He vowed that if his men were not given back to him, he would land the rest and sack the whole island. The Governor gave in.
Leaving these inhospitable shores, the mariners sailed away for home, only to meet with another storm which caused them to make more vows. Then the sailors worked hard, and managed to get the ship running before the storm, which drove her into the Tagus.
Forced to take shelter in another Portuguese port, therefore, this time Lisbon, Columbus went ashore, where the King of Portugal received him with many expressions of delight and congratulation, though beneath the smiling face was a jealous heart. Portugal had taken so great a part—had been the pioneer, in fact—of the exploration of the century, that the king felt that this accomplishment of Columbus was a personal affront! His counsellors advised him that the best thing to do was to kill Columbus and his men out of hand, and, taking his charts, send an expedition out to take possession of the new lands.
King John, however, would not consent to the murder of Columbus, whom he dismissed; and then ordered his own mariners to hurry off with an expedition to take by force of arms the lands which had been discovered for Spain. It may be said that when the question of ownership of these lands was laid before the Pope of Rome, that arbiter of the fate of people and nations in the fifteenth century, the Portuguese were made to understand that Spain had the prior claim on the new territory.
It was on March 15 that Columbus arrived at Palos, less than eight months after he had set out from that port on a voyage from which few ever believed he would return. And now, here he was! Great crowds met him and hailed him, and marched in procession with him to the church, where he gave thanks to Heaven for the success of his voyage. Then, he sent a letter to the king, who commanded him to attend Court, where he was received with all due honour, and told his wonderful story which thrilled the king and queen, and soon set all Spain by the ears. He had brought many evidences of the truth of his tale, including several natives and many gold ornaments; and according to the terms of the engagement entered into, he was appointed Governor-General of all the lands discovered. Then, still believing that he had found the way to the East, he went out again on September 25, 1493, discovering new islands, and going to Hispaniola, which he found was rich with gold. His fort had been destroyed, however, and his men killed by the natives. With his adventures during this voyage we have no time to deal. There was dissatisfaction amongst some of his followers, and accusations were made against him which necessitated his going back to Spain to clear himself, which he succeeded in doing. In 1498 he was allowed to go out again, and it was on this voyage that he discovered the mainland of America, although he never knew it. First he landed on an island which he called Trinidad (its present name), in honour of the Holy Trinity, and from there he could see land, which, believing it to be an island, he called Isla Santa (Holy Island). It was, as a matter of fact, the mainland of America. He went down the coast as far as Grenada, and began to think that the length of it pointed to the fact that it was more than an island: that it must be the mainland of Asia.
Passing over the trials of Columbus which followed upon the accusations made against him at Court, we must go on to a brief résumé of his fourth and last voyage. On this, which started from Cadiz in May, 1502, he went seeking a strait by which he could get farther east. He reached Honduras, then later, Veragua and Nicaragua, the farthest point reached being El Retrete, when he sailed for Veragua again, thence to Hispaniola. Many troubles beset him. Jealous followers brought him sorrows; disorders at Hispaniola brought him displeasure at Court, and he sailed for home, reaching Spain in November, 1504, to die two years later in neglect; “no local annals mention even his death.” And he, the greatest mariner who had ever lived, the man who had brought to Spain—although no one realised it then—a New World, with all its treasures.