'Why is that, Juan?'
'She had managed for twenty three years to keep the collection from her son Luis. Now he had everything. It was a disaster.
He rifled the collection for papers he could sell to support his debauched lifestyle. The Barcelona copy disappeared and was lost forever, probably sold to the highest bidder.'
'It would fetch quite a price now if it were to turn up, I would imagine.' ,
'Indeed, but perhaps not in our lifetime. Fortunately before it disappeared it was seen by a friend of the' family, the Dominican friar named Las Casas who produced a handwritten abstract of the log. He was very protective of Columbus, omitting anything that embarrassed him, but overall it is a good synopsis.'
'I'm not sure what this has to do with the stolen document.'
'Patience, my friend. This document of the so called fifth voyage was also said to have been transcribed by Las Casas. Again it is an abstract, excerpting portions of a longlost log.'
'You've seen it?'
'Oh yes, it was considered a curiosity. I even went so far as to compare it to the original Las Casas manuscript which is in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid. It is an excellent forgery. Except for the content, I would be ninety-nine percent certain it was written by Las Casas.'
'Do you remember the subject matter?'
'Unforgettable. 'It read like one of the fantastic stories of long lost cities that were so popular in Spain in the fifteen hundreds. Columbus had sailed his fourth and final voyage in 1502. It followed a series of disasters, disappointments, and a nervous breakdown. The royals considered him a crank by then but thought he might stumble onto something useful. He was still convinced he had found Asia, that he would discover vast resources of gold and this voyage would restore his tarnished reputation.'
And did .it?'
'The opposite! His fourth voyage was a disgraceful failure. He lost four ships and was marooned on Jamaica suffering from malaria and arthritis. Yet the account that was stolen says he went back to Spain, secretly outfitted a ship with his own money, and returned to the New World to make that final search for the incredible treasure in gold he had heard about from his very first voyage.'
'This log, does it say what happened?'
'The forger, used a very clever literary device to keep the reader guessing. At a certain point the narration is taken over by a crewman. Then this narrative ends abruptly We are never told whether the ship succeeds in its mission. Or if it returned to Spain at all.'
'Of course, the. ship could have been lost and the log found by other voyagers.'
'Yes, so you see what a lovely tale of the imagination it is.'
'What if it isn't a madeup story, Juan?'
Again the deep laughter. 'What makes you say that?'
'A number of things. Why would somebody make such an excellent forgery?'
A simple explanation. To use an analogy from your country, if you were to sell someone the Brooklyn Bridge, it would be to your advantage to have a deed with many official seals and signatures on it.'
A persuasive argument, Juan. But if I found an idiot stupid enough to give me money for that which I clearly did not own, I could sign the deed in my own hand and walk away with the cash. Forging official signatures would be unnecessary work.'
'This document would be submitted to far more scrutiny than your mythical bridge deal.'
'Exactly my point. The document is superbly done, as you say. As a comparison, if you knew the bridge belonged to Brooklyn, no amount of official paperwork would persuade you it was for sale. Similarly you wouldn't have to be an expert to know the document was a fraud if you knew it was dated after Columbus's death.'
Another possibility presents itself,' Ortega said. 'That the hand of Las Cases actually transcribed this document, but the monk did so knowing it was a forgery.'
'Why would Las Casas go through all that tedious labor knowing it was a fake? You said Las Casas was very protective of Columbus's ravings. Would someone of that mindset want to give further circulation to a document that conveys the last words of Columbus as the ravings of a wild man?'
'Perhaps Las Casas never meant for anyone to see it. But Luis sold the log to bribe his way out of prison or into the bedroom of one of his women.'
'Maybe,' Perlmutter replied, 'but there is something else. The fact that somebody went through a bit of trouble to steal it.'
As I said, it is a curiosity'
'Enough of a curiosity to risk arrest and imprisonment?'
'I see your point, Julien. I am at a loss to offer an explanation. If I only had the original log which Las Casas copied from. But alas.'
Another Columbus mystery, then?'
'Yes, we must leave it at that' There was a pause. 'You can judge for yourself when I send it to you.'
'Pardon?'
'The document. I have made a copy and an English translation hoping to present it at a conference. You see, I, too, am fascinated by the odd and bizarre.'
'Perhaps there was more to it than that, Juan. Perhaps you have your doubts as to its spuriousness.'
'Perhaps, my friend. As I said, it is an extremely good forgery. I still have your fax number. You shall have it this day.'
'I'd appreciate that. And in return, and for your magnificent quail recipe, I would like to share with you a shrimp gumbo that a chef in New Orleans passed on to me with the warning that he would split me open and stuff me like a lobster if I shared it with anyone. We must be discreet; my very life is at stake.'
'You are a true friend, Julien. Danger will only enhance its delectability. But if you meet such an untimely demise I shall be sure to toast. you with a heavenly bon appetit.'
Bon appetit to you, mi amigo.'
23 THE FAX MACHINE HUMMED, AND THE first pages of neatly typewritten paper began to come through. As promised, Ortega sent along copies of the original written in neat Castilian Spanish. Perlmutter cleared a space on his desk to accommodate the paperwork. Fortifying himself with a cup of cappuccino, he began to read the words that may or may not have been written by Christopher Columbus and transcribed by Las Casas.
23 May, in the year of our Lord 1506
Most exalted, excellent and powerful prince King of the Spains and of the islands of the Ocean Sea, our Sovereign. High Noble Lord.
I sail to the Indies once again, perhaps never to return, for I am mortal, old and weakened by illness, and the way is hard
and fraught with dangers. I make this voyage without the permission and blessing of Your Highness, but at my own expense, having used my meager fortune to fit out a single vessel the Nina, which I know to be suitable to the undertaking fire it has served me well on many occasions since my first voyage.
I go not in my capacity as High Admiral of all the Ocean Sea, but as on my first expedition, as a humble sailor, a Captain who sailed from Spain to the Indies, to find new lands, and gold fire Castile, by which the Sovereign may undertake the conquest of the Holy Land, which has always been my intention.
But my story must begin four years before this. My Sovereign is well acquainted with the trials of my last voyage, in the year 1502, when, having freed me from chains; and forgiven me for my errors, by your clemency and consolation you and my Queen again granted great favors and ennobled me, sending me forward with four ships. How on this High Voyage our fleet survived a terrible storm and found new lands which I claimed, with the help of God, in the name of the Sovereigns, even though I had fallen ill, often seeming at death's door, commanding the ship from a small cabin I had built on deck.
This was the most unhappy and disappointing of all my voyages. We did not find the strait to the west that we were looking for, the natives greeted us, not with friendliness as before, but with arrows and spears. All was against us, the biscuits maggoty, the weather and wind fearsome, until at last our sinking ships came upon a safe harbor where we were marooned for a year and five days in a place I never expected to leave alive, until that joyful day we were rescued. Then the worst ocean crossing of my life.
But more than any storms, or disease, or the depredations of the natives, was my knowledge that for all my
