Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  “Your wee friends over there.”

  Columbus eyed the Pygmies, who were dressed in full African regalia and looking strangely carefree.

  “Monday and Tuesday?”

  Fanucio shook his head. “Never did savvy why you named ‘em after days of the week.”

  “Because I captured them on Good Friday, but somehow naming a savage ‘Friday’ didn’t sound right.”

  “Hmm. Maybe they could put on a show. Do they sing or dance?”

  “Sing or dance? They’re warrior chieftains.”

  This time, Fanucio snorted.

  “All due respect, it’s kind of hard to fear those big as children.”

  Columbus’s eyebrow lifted. “Is this your new foot?”

  Fanucio held the sculpted wood aloft with reverence. “Aye. It is almost done. Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Columbus took the foot and looked it over. “It has four toes.”

  “Ahh. I knew a man of your ilk would ‘preciate authenticity.”

  Columbus rolled his eyes before shouting to the Pygmies in a language full of clicks and grunts. Then, without hesitation, he tossed the foot high into the air. Faster than a viper, one of the Pygmies launched a short spear with incredible speed, pinning the wooden foot to the mast with a thwang.

  Fanucio gaped, horrified.

  The Pygmies laughed and chatted in their tongue.

  “Excellent toss,” Monday said. “The right mix of dexterity and fervor. Bravo.”

  Tuesday shrugged. “You know how these savages like when we put on a good show.”

  As they tittered, Fanucio muttered, “I spent three weeks on that.”

  Columbus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Fanucio, I did you a favor. That thing looks as if it would disintegrate at the first drop of rain. What did you craft it out of? Driftwood?”

  “Mahogany, from the ship reserves.”

  “Oh. Well, I promised to replace it.”

  “In gold, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yes, but only if you spot a sea serpent. Have you seen one rise lately?”

  “No, but another month without ladies, and I ‘spect we’ll see many.”

  Fanucio signaled one of the crew to retrieve the foot—what was left of it anyway. He was a youthful lad, lithe and lanky, who wore a turban around his head to stave off the heat. Columbus didn’t recognize him.

  “Who’s the whelp?” Columbus asked.

  “Don’t go by a Christian name,” Fanucio answered. “Crew calls him ‘Boy.’ Came on in the Canaries, I think.”

  “Looks feeble.”

  “To the eye, mayhaps. But he’s no shirker. Scales the mast like a monkey and has the eyes of an eagle. I’ll vouch for him.”

  Columbus suddenly had an idea. “Would you say he’s faster than Pedro?”

  “Half the crew’s named Pedro, Cap’n.”

  “The quick one.”

  Fanucio suddenly understood. “Oh! I wager he is.”

  With a conspiratorial grin, Columbus slipped two fingers between his lips and whistled. The crew quieted and gathered around.

  “Men, it’s time for a little sport. Fanucio has issued a challenge. A race between Pedro…” Columbus looked around. “Where is he?”

  Half the crew raised their hands.

  “The quick one,” Columbus clarified. A lean Spaniard, barely more than a lad himself, maneuvered to the front.

  “And the boy. What’s your name?”

  The boy stepped forward, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention. Still, he managed to hold Columbus’s gaze.

  “Nyx,” the boy said with a light voice.

  “I like Boy better. Up for a show of skill?”

  “Sure. What do I get if I win?”

  Columbus was impressed by the kid’s pluck. “Well, you don’t look old enough for a ration of wine. How does one hundred soldos sound?”

  “Promotion to boatswain sounds better.”

  Fanucio was about to cuff the boy when Columbus laughed.

  “All right,” he said. “Boatswain if you win. But if you lose, you’ll be emptying my chamber pot for the remainder of this voyage.”

  Nyx shrugged. “I won’t lose.”

  Columbus nodded. The only thing he admired more than confidence was bravado.

  “Okay, lads,” Fanucio said. “Give ‘em some room.”

  As Nyx and Pedro readied themselves, the wagering began. Men shouted and waved money in their fists. The odds quickly slanted in Pedro’s favor. The other boy followed the spectacle with amused detachment.

  Above them, Monday and Tuesday took up position atop the poop deck rail.

  “It appears there is to be some form of competition,” Monday said. “What shall we wager?”

  Tuesday considered. “How about slaves when we finally wrest control of the ship?”

  Monday nodded with approval.

  Down below, Columbus waited for the furor of betting to die down before pointing up to the crow’s nest high atop the main mast. “The objective is simple. First crew member to scale the mast and retrieve the flag from the nest wins. To make things more interesting, I’ve asked Fanucio to slush it.”

  “Are there any rules?” Nyx asked.

  “Three. Stay off the shrouds, don’t fall, and don’t lose.”

  The two youths eyed each other before glancing back at Columbus. “Well? Go.”

  Instantly, Pedro shoved Nyx backward before sprinting for the front of the ship, earning a hearty “Huzzah!” from the crew. Nyx recovered quickly, springing to his feet and scrambling across the deck just as Pedro leaped onto the forestay and began to cat crawl up toward the mainmast. Pedro was already a dozen feet in the air when Nyx pulled a dagger out of nowhere and slashed the forestay line. Pedro careened down and slammed into the deck.

  Another cheer ran out, this time for Nyx, who was free climbing the foremast without a hint of fear.

  “He does climb like a monkey,” Columbus said.

  The cheering grew more raucous and the betting fiercer. Pedro was running at full speed when he launched himself off the bowsprit and clamped onto Nyx’s leg. Nyx lurched but managed to hold his position while using his other leg to kick at Pedro. Unfortunately for Nyx, Pedro had spent the last year and a half aboard the ship wrestling ropes, and his grip was like iron. Rather than let go, Pedro simply pulled himself higher until he could latch onto Nyx’s waist and wrap his arms around him. Nyx managed to hold their collective weight for a few seconds before his grip gave and both boys tumbled down.

  The crew groaned as the youths struck the deck. Somehow Nyx had gotten the worst of it. He swayed after gaining his feet. By that time, Pedro was again halfway across the ship. This time, he used the gunwale to boost himself high onto a lanyard, which he quickly began to scale toward the yardarm above.

  When Columbus saw Nyx searching for his dagger, he knew the game was done. He was surprised to find himself disappointed. There was something about the lad that intrigued him, even if he couldn’t put a finger on it.

  Then, something odd happened. Nyx stood tall and did a quick appraisal of the ship. It took no more than a second, but in that one brief instant, Columbus felt a ray of hope for him. The boy’s eyes were composed, the gears behind them churning.

  In a flash, Nyx barreled his way through the crew, charged up the forecastle stairs and ran directly for the mizzenmast. The mizzen was the only sail that was lateen-rigged with a triangular arm that went from near the deck and shot forty-five degrees into the sky. He tugged free the cleat knot connected to the high end, wrapping it quickly around a small water keg on deck. Then he lifted the keg, put it on the gunwale, and rolled it toward the end of the boat.

  “What in Hades’ name is he doing?” Fanucio asked.

  “Improvising.” Columbus grinned.

  Just as Pedro was reaching for the mainsail’s yardarm, Nyx climbed atop the low end of the mizzenmast. The water keg fell, the line ran taut, and Nyx shot into the air.

  The crew gasped
as Nyx landed onto the mainsail boom two feet from Pedro, who was shocked. The small Spaniard was on the wrong side and knew he was beaten. Then he saw the slightest tug at the edge of Nyx’s mouth and slammed one heavy foot down in fury. It shook violently. Both boys fought to maintain their balance. Pedro stomped again, but this time he lost his balance and pitched over the side, saved from certain death by seizing a reef line.

  Nyx heard the flutter of the flag from the first breeze of the day. He could have easily turned for the nest to claim the win. Instead, he knelt and offered Pedro a hand. The boy was surprised but took it. As he climbed onto the boom, Nyx heard the crew sigh with relief. Nyx retrieved the flag before he slid down the slushed mast to cheers.

  Columbus stepped to the boy, grim-faced. The cheers ceased.

  “Boy, you cut my rigging, tore my aft-sail, and lost a keg of my best powder. You are rash, reckless, and lucky to be alive.” Nyx swallowed. Then, Columbus clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, the boy’s lost dagger extended in his hand. “You’ll fit in perfectly.”

  Another cheer went up as Nyx took the dagger. Almost instantly, a sea of meaty hands latched onto him and began lobbing him in the air as they strolled around the deck singing an old bawdy Spanish song. Even Pedro—the small one—joined in. Nyx laughed, all the while shouting to be put down. The crew pitched him higher instead.

  Columbus joined in the merriment. This was exactly what they needed. And when he himself felt a breeze on his sweaty pate, he knew their troubles were behind them. Then, Nyx was tossed even higher. Only this time, when he landed, his turban fell away. Someone gasped. Nyx fell to the deck in a huff.

  The ship was silent. Columbus pushed his way through the stunned crew to see Nyx look up through long, stringy hair. For the first time, those eyes held fear. It was obvious why.

  Nyx was a girl.

  Chapter Four

  “S-she’s not a he,” Fanucio stuttered. “He’s not a her! It’s a bleedin’ girl!”

  “I can see that,” Columbus snapped.

  “And, by God, she looks the spittin’ image of—”

  Columbus clapped Fanucio across the chest. “Don’t you dare blaspheme on my ship!”

  Columbus had also seen the resemblance but had no time to deal with the implications. The crew was already fuming, and he needed to take control of the situation before things boiled over and all the goodwill amassed over the last ten minutes proved irrevocably lost.

  “What’s the meaning of this deception?” Columbus barked as he pulled Nyx up by the scruff of her neck. “Speak quickly!”

  Nyx wrested herself from his grip. “I knew I wouldn’t be allowed within fifty feet of your ship if my gender was revealed, so I disguised myself.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I wish to join your crew.”

  Half the sailors aboard laughed while the other half roared with disapproval.

  “A crew with women is bad luck,” Fanucio said. “Everyone knows that.”

  “And you’re not even a woman,” Columbus added. “You’re barely a child.”

  “I’m no child,” Nyx said as defiantly as a twelve-year-old girl on a ship full of hardened men could. “I’ve done everything asked of me, better than any at my post.”

  “And yet our voyage has been mired by setback after setback. No wonder the wind has abandoned us.”

  “A funny thing to hear from one whose hair is currently blowing in the breeze.”

  She was right. A breeze was stirring. Its effects could be seen twinkling across the surface of the ocean. Still, that truth failed to dissuade a crew whose blood was piqued.

  “She’s a harbinger of misfortune,” someone growled.

  “An affront to the Sea Gods,” said another.

  “Something must be done!” shouted a third.

  “Aye. Put her in irons!”

  “Keelhaul her!”

  “Shave her head and dress her as a mermaid!”

  Everyone turned to stare at that man.

  “What?” he asked sheepishly. “I got a thing for mermaids.”

  “There’ll be no foul play,” Columbus said, “but something must be done. We can’t afford bad fortune to plague this quest any longer.” He stared at Nyx. “You’ll have to leave the ship.”

  The crew was stunned silent. They hadn’t expected Columbus to go that far. The girl was, after all, a mere child.

  “Cap’n,” Fanucio said. “You don’t plan to just…” He motioned heaving her overboard.

  “No, that would be cruel. We’ll give her a dinghy and enough provisions for two weeks. After that, she’s in God’s hands. Take hold of her, men.”

  As several crewmen moved in, Nyx’s dagger reappeared in her hand. “Any man comes at me will leave with more holes than a net.”

  The crew laughed. Then one of them reached for Nyx. Her blade flashed. The man’s shirt and pantaloons hit the deck. The laughter ceased.

  “Enough,” Columbus said, snatching the dagger from Nyx’s hand. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “Please, Captain,” The girl pleaded. “I can be an asset to you. I have skills. I’m clever and sneaky. I’m also loyal. I can watch your back and see trouble coming from a mile away.”

  “I can see my own trouble coming, Brommet. Heaven knows I have the experience.”

  “And where was that experience at the postern gate of the Alcázar?” Columbus pulled up, surprised. “You didn’t mind my blade so much then.”

  “The portcullis?” Columbus said, incredulous. “That was you?”

  “Aye.”

  “And inside the castle? You were following me then too, weren’t you? Why?”

  “I told you, I wish to join your crew.”

  “But why? The life of a seaman is brutal and lonely. Those lucky enough to survive the hostile seas are more likely to wind up destitute, crippled, and begging for crumbs in some godforsaken seaport than gaining any true wealth or prosperity.” He glanced at the crew. “Present company excluded.” He turned back to Nyx. “So, why would you want this life?”

  “The same reason we all do. I come from nothing. And what awaits me there are a thousand shades of the same. At least out here, I can choose my own path.”

  Columbus hesitated. Those words resonated strongly with him. Nyx must have sensed this because she squared up and spoke her next words with even more passion.

  “Give me adventure or give me death.”

  Fanucio whistled. “Now that is a catchphrase.”

  Annoyed, Columbus resumed the march toward the back of the ship. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Atop the poop deck, Monday and Tuesday watched on.

  “I believe he plans to set the girl adrift,” Tuesday said.

  Monday snorted. “I wonder what the runner-up gets.”

  “Perhaps we should reconsider, sir,” Fanucio said. “She was right about the wind. Look.”

  High above, the sails began to flap, and the deck swayed. Relief came with each gust. Still, Columbus was undeterred.

  “It only means I’ve chosen the proper course of action. And there’s still no guarantee this will make up for the damaged rudder or spoiled provisions.”

  “But those weren’t my doing!” Nyx shouted. “I wasn’t even on the boat when the provisions were delivered. And it wasn’t me who brought us here or cut sail to see for days on end. Has anyone asked why your nose is buried in that bronze dish day and night? Why don’t you tell them why you’re really here?”

  The crew looked to Columbus, curious about that themselves.

  “That’s no concern of yours,” he spat.

  “But it is theirs,” Nyx said as she lobbied the crew again. “Ask him. Ask him what riddle your captain seeks!”

  “What about it, Captain?” one of the oldest crewmembers—and ironically, the oldest Pedro—asked. “What’s she on about? What is the deal with that dish?”

  Others repeated the question. Columbus felt his ch
est tighten. He briefly eyed the girl. How had she put me on the defensive so quickly?

  “If you must know, this dish is a kind of ancient treasure map. It leads to an artifact so rare, so valuable that once recovered, none of us shall ever have need of money again.”

  “And where exactly is this treasure, Captain?” Nyx asked.

  The crew awaited his answer. Grudgingly he said, “Very close by.”

  This time, the crew grumbled. They were used to his vague answers and didn’t like it. Sensing this, Nyx pressed on.

  “Don’t be vague, Signore Colombo. This place has a name, doesn’t it?”

  Columbus forced a smile. “Indeed.”

  “Well, spare us all the suspense. What is the place you seek?”

  The crew waited expectantly. Columbus mumbled the answer.

  “Did he say, Johannes?” one of the crew asked.

  “I heard praying mantis,” another said.

  “Appears they didn’t quite hear you, Captain,” Nyx said, now enjoying herself. “Maybe you should say it a little louder.”

  Finally, Columbus blurted out, “Atlantis.”

  A chorus of groans led very quickly to outright anger just as Columbus knew it would.

  Fanucio leaned over and whispered, “Perhaps I should prepare the dinghy for two?”

  Before things could escalate further, Columbus whistled loudly. The crew turned to see him holding a golden fish high above his head.

  “This was found off the coast of Greece some three thousand years ago. It is solid gold through and through.”

  “Anyone can smelt gold,” one of the crew shouted.

  “Not like this. Where’s Pedro?”

  “The quick one or the old one?” Fanucio asked.

  “The one with the axe.”

  Giant Pedro muscled his way forward, the axe in his hand. Columbus laid the golden fish at his feet and ordered him to halve it. Giant Pedro lifted the mighty axe into the air and brought it down with a thunderous strike. Columbus retrieved the two pieces and passed them around.

  “Look inside and tell me what you see.”

  The crew huddled over the two pieces, their faces wracked with wonder.

  “It’s the guts and bones of the fish,” Fanucio said, surprised. “They, too, is gold. Who could do such a thing?”