Part 5 (1/2)

”But,” cried Beatriz wonderingly, ”a s.h.i.+p could sail around the world!”

Colombo nodded and smiled. ”So it was written in the 'Travels of Sir John Maundeville' more than a hundred years ago. But no s.h.i.+p has done so.”

”Why not?” asked Fernao.

”Chiefly, perhaps, because of tales like that of the Sea of Darkness and Satan's hand. And it is true that a s.h.i.+p venturing very far westward is drawn out of its course, as if the earth were not a perfect round, but sloped upward to the south. My own belief is,”--he seemed for a moment to forget that he was talking to children, ”that it is not perfectly round, but somewhat like this pear,--” he selected a short chubby pear from the basket, ”and that on this mountain may be a cool and lovely region which was once Paradise.”

”Oh!” cried Beatriz, her face alight with the glory of the thought. The geographer smiled at her and went on.

”Also you see that the ocean is on this side of the earth very much greater than the Mediterranean. We do not know how long it would take to cross it. I have lately received a map from the famous Florentine Toscanelli which--ah!” he interrupted himself, ”here comes our good friend Master Serrao.”

It had taken the pilot longer than he expected to hunt over his relics of old voyages, and there was nothing, after all, like the piece of wood cast ash.o.r.e by the Atlantic waves. Old Sancho turned it over, examined the edges of the carving, and shook his head.

”No; that is not African work; at least it is not like any work of the black men that I have ever seen. They can all work iron, and this was made without the use of iron tools; that I am sure of. Some of our men were s.h.i.+pwrecked once where they had to make stone and sh.e.l.ls serve their turn, and I know the look of wood that has been worked with such tools. And the wood itself is not like anything I have from Africa. It is more like the timber of the East.”

Now the stranger's eyes lighted with keener interest.

”You think it may be Indian, do you?”

”It may. But how in the name of Sao Cristobal did it come here? Besides, the people of India understand the use of metal as well as we do, or better.”

”May there not be wild men in remote islands of the Indian seas?”

”That might be. Gil Andrade has been in those parts, and he says there are more islands than he could count. I have sometimes had occasion to take his stories with a pinch of salt, but if there are islands where wild people live they would make such things as this. And now I think of it, I once picked up a paddle myself, floating off the Azores, that was some such wood as this, but not carved. But the queerest thing I ever found was this nut. Look at it.”

It was part of a nutsh.e.l.l as big as a man's head and as hard as wood.

”The inside was quite spoiled,” went on the old seaman, ”but so far as I could judge it was no kin to the palm nuts we get. I kept the sh.e.l.l, and I have never found any merchant who could match it. Now the current sets toward our coast from the west at a certain point, and that is where all these odd things come ash.o.r.e.”

The guest nodded. ”My brother-in-law and I have talked much of these matters. One of his captains saw some time ago the floating bodies of two men, brown-skinned, with straight black hair, not like the natives of any part of Europe or Africa. Another thing which is strange, though I hold it not as important as they do, is that the people of Madeira persistently declare that they see a great island appear and disappear to the westward. According to their description it has lofty mountains and wooded valleys, and some say it is Atlantis and some Saint Brandan's Isle. No s.h.i.+p sailing that way has ever landed there, however.”

Sancho's eyes turned seaward. ”It is marvelous,” he said after a pause, ”what things men think they see. And you think, senhor, that the world is not yet all known to us?'”

”I do not know.” Colombo stood up to take his departure. ”If G.o.d hath reserved any great work to be done, He hath also chosen the man who is to do it. His tasks are not done by accident, or left to the blind or the selfish. Toscanelli thinks that since the world is round, we should reach the Indies by sailing due west from this coast, but in that case India would seem to be far greater than we have believed. If I had the s.h.i.+ps and the men I would venture it. But at this time the King is altogether taken up with the eastward route to the Indies. It was said of old time, 'He that believeth shall not make haste.'”

”But you will sail to Paradise some day, will you not, senhor?” asked Beatriz, treasuring the tiny globe in one careful hand while the other shaded her eyes from the level rays of the evening sun.

”There is only one way to Paradise, little maid. That is by the will of our Lord. And if you, my lad, are the first to sail round the world, remember that the sea is His, and He made it. Man makes his own Sea of Darkness by ignorance, and hate, and fear.”

NOTES

[1] Prince Henry of Portugal, often called ”Henry the Navigator” built the first naval observatory in Europe at Sagres. He may be said to have laid the foundation of the Portuguese and later Spanish discoveries. In the time of Columbus the Mappe-Mondo or Map of the World of a Venetian monk was considered the most complete map yet made.

[2] The statement has been carelessly made in some juvenile books dealing with the age of discovery, that in the time of Columbus n.o.body knew that the world was round. This of course is not even approximately the case. The conception of the earth as a sphere was generally set forth in what might be called books of science, and even in some popular works like that of Sir John Maundeville, who died in 1372. Its acceptance by the public, however, may be said to have followed somewhat the course of the Darwinian theory in the nineteenth century. Long after evolution was admitted as a truth by scientific men there were schools and even colleges which refused to teach it, and in fact it was not accepted by the public until the generation which first heard of it had died.

SUNSET SONG

Down upon our seaward light, Swept by all the winds that blow, Birds come reeling in their flight-- (_Ay de mi, Cristofero!_) Petrels tossing on the gale, Falcons daring sleet and hail, Curlews whistling high and far, Waifs that cross the harbor bar Borne from isles we do not know-- (_Ay de mi, Cristofero!_)