flight from his mind and now, whether he liked it or not, Matthias Fitzosbert was committed body and soul to Columbus’ great venture and whatever lay waiting for him across this broad, unknown, mysterious ocean.
Matthias walked up and down the forecastle. Now and again he’d stop to check the hourglass placed there and, when the sand ran out, turn it over. He’d watch the glass until midnight, when he’d be relieved and others would take over. Darkness fell. The stars seemed brighter, closer than they did on land. Matthias wondered how far they had sailed. Columbus had been rash in proclaiming that the voyage would be 750 miles. The crew had taken him at his word and, each day, the distance was carefully measured. The excitement of leaving land had now faded. The rigours of ship life were making themselves felt. The water had turned brackish, the wine slightly sour, the biscuits and bread hard, the meat too well spiced and salted. The men crowded each other, the chance to be alone was a luxury. Moreover, despite the strictest instructions, the ship now stank. Men fell ill, vomited and retched, or ran, clutching their stomachs, to the side, as their bowels turned to water. Every day the slops were washed out; buckets of seawater were taken down to sluice the bilges, rats were hunted and killed. As the ships drove on, the crew greedily recalled the luxuries of the Canaries and returned to counting the miles.
‘Matthias, Matthias Fitzosbert!’ The voice just came out of the darkness.
Matthias walked to the rail and stared down. The sea swelled and broke beneath him. He looked back along the deck: in the faint light of the lantern he glimpsed men sleeping in nooks, crannies and corners, their blankets pulled over them.
‘Matthias! Matthias!’ The voice was hollow like someone shouting down a funnel. ‘Listen now!’
Matthias seized the rail, gripping it. Was he hearing the voice? Or was it in his own mind?
‘Listen now! Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! Due west! Due west! We shall meet again!’
‘Look!’
Matthias broke from his reverie. On the deck men were stirring themselves, pointing up to the sky. A comet, a falling star, was soaring across the night sky. Members of the crew, Columbus and his officers, now joined Matthias on the foredeck.
‘What is it?’ someone asked.
‘A falling star,’ Escobedo replied.
‘A comet,’ another one observed.
‘It’s a sign!’ Columbus added, eager to seize any opportunity to vindicate himself. ‘It’s a sign from God! We shall not be disappointed!’
‘It’s like a rose, isn’t it?’ De Torres pointed up. ‘Look. There’s the flower and there’s the stem.’
Matthias watched the sign and wondered about that mysterious voice repeating the course the ship was following.
In the succeeding days, he realised how important that voice had been. The ships were now out on a sea that never ended, under a sky which yielded no recognisable horizon. On 19 September soundings were taken but, even with a 200 fathom line, no bottom was found. This drew dark looks but Columbus took comfort when two pelicans flew and rested on the ship’s mast, loudly declaring that such birds never fly far from land. The men reckoned that they had sailed far enough but still no land was in sight. They passed through a sea of weed, thick, greeny and slimy, which opened up before the ships then closed in around them.
On 23 September the winds dropped and they became becalmed until a great swell rose to lift the hull, the winds picked up and they sailed on. Now and again, the lookouts, eager to claim the reward, their eyes constantly scouring the horizon, sometimes shouted they had seen land but this was proved to be a figment of their imagination. The crew now began to demand exactly how far they had travelled and, more importantly, how much further they were to go. The Pinzon brothers came across to the
The crew settled down. They forgot about the brackish water, weevil-ridden food, the stench of the ships, the sheer boredom and terror of such a long voyage. September passed. In October, however, the gloom deepened. Columbus had said that, on their voyage to Cathay and Cipango, they would pass the Island of the Blest discovered by the Irish saint and seafarer St Brendan. No island hove into sight. The men grumbled: if Columbus was wrong about the island couldn’t he be wrong about everything else?
On 8 October birds were seen flying south-west. The crew insisted that Columbus changed direction. Gathered on the deck, the men shouted that if birds flew in such a direction towards land, should they not follow? The Pinzon brothers on the
‘Why not, Englishman?’ Columbus called.
‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south,’ Matthias repeated the voice he had heard. ‘Ever west, Captain General. That was your order and we should keep to it.’
Columbus smiled bleakly but the rest of the crew, led by the Pinzons, were insistent. The
That night the crew were comforted to hear more birds passing overhead. Four days later a look-out cried that he could see things in the water. A reed and a stick were picked up, as well as a piece of wood around which grass was wrapped. When these were brought aboard the excitement of the crew intensified, for the piece of wood looked as if it had been carved. The gloom lifted. The winds freshened. Escobedo announced that they were now travelling at 7 knots a day. Matthias was teased because he had been against the change in direction. One evening, just after sunset, Matthias was taking the first watch when he heard that mysterious voice again.
‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! You must sail ever west! Look for the light!’
Matthias stared round: on the far side of the foredeck a young sail-maker, Diego Yemodes, was squatting, stitching a piece of canvas, but he never looked up.
‘Nothing to the north! Nothing to the south! Ever west! Look for the light! Tell Columbus to look for the light!’
‘Is everything all right?’
Matthias jumped and turned round. Columbus was standing at the top of the steps staring at him curiously.
‘Why did you vote against changing direction, Englishman?’
‘I don’t know,’ Matthias lied, holding the Captain General’s gaze. ‘I still think it was a mistake to change.’
Columbus nodded and looked up at the night sky.
‘I believe you are right.’ He turned and went down the steps.
Matthias heard one of the bombards fire, followed by the slap of feet on the deck. Lanterns were lit, signals flashed to the
Matthias forgot about his own anxieties. He felt the ship twist and turn. He heard something bump against the side, and looked over. It was a piece of wood, a branch or trunk. It swirled by so fast Matthias couldn’t determine. He went back to his watch. He stared so hard his eyes hurt and then he glimpsed it, a light like that of a wax candle, being moved up and down. He blinked and stared again. He was sure he had seen it. No star, no figment of his imagination or trick of the ocean. Again the light, up and down as if someone were signalling him through the darkness. He left his post and ran down to the deck, hammering on the door of Columbus’ cabin. The Captain General came bustling out. He took one look at Matthias’ face and went like a monkey up the steps, standing on the bowsprit, holding on to the ropes.
‘You saw something?’
‘Dead ahead,’ Matthias replied. ‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! Ever west!’
‘You are mis- No, I see it!’
Columbus jumped down. He was soon joined on the forecastle by other officers. The rest of the crew were aroused and from across the water came the boom of a bombard. The
