Origins: Discovery

by Mark Henrikson

  With the assertion of that theory, Juan felt his heart sink right through to the grass beneath his chair. The man’s theory was absolutely correct. It matched almost exactly the teachings of the navigator on Juan’s voyage to the undiscovered lands. How in the world could this man even theorize about such a thing, let alone be dead-on accurate? The only two people who knew about these trade winds were the dead navigator and Juan. Perhaps this man was a student, or even a brother of the dead navigator. They did look an awful lot alike.

  “Favorable winds? Both ways?” the king taunted. “That sure is . . . convenient.”

  “Yet possible,” the queen challenged after yet another reaffirming nod from her navigational advisor. “It is risky and has a narrow margin for error, but I do see a chance of success. I have made my decision. I will sponsor your voyage of exploration to the west, Mister Columbus.”

  The searing heat from King Ferdinand’s eyes toward his queen spoke volumes to his level of rage at her declaration. After a combustible minute of dead silence, the king sprung to his feet and cast a dismissive wave of his hand toward Columbus and his companion. “Bah, have it your way. Give them whatever provisions and rights of trade royalties they want to make the voyage. None of it will matter for I am certain we shall never see either again once they leave our shores.”

  Considering the matter closed, the king stormed off and took his half of the audience with him. The queen remained and oversaw negotiations that dragged on for three more hours. With each passing minute, Juan grew wearier of the situation.

  The companion’s uncanny knowledge of wind patterns and navigation aside, the negotiations focused much less on trade rights and royalties than they did ownership rights of any new lands discovered.

  According to Columbus’ contract, if he claimed any new islands or mainland for the crown, he would be appointed viceroy and governor of the newly colonized lands and be entitled to 10 percent of all revenues from the new lands in perpetuity.

  The stated objective of the voyage by the two men was to reach the already settled East Indies and establish trade. Why then was there so much focus on ownership of new lands? They knew something. It was the only plausible explanation. He did not know how, but they already knew what was out there beyond the western horizon.

  Juan expected their voyage to take at least a year, and he intended to spend much of that time figuring out exactly who this companion of Christopher Columbus was: where he came from, where he studied, under whom, and on what ships he had apprenticed. The man seemingly knew every detail about secrets so sensitive that dozens of men had already died to keep them.

  In any event, Juan was well pleased that finally another major European power was making the voyage west. The process had begun, and his father back in Portugal would be most pleased.

  Chapter 11: Following the Light of the Sun

  “WELL, WHAT DO you think, Admiral?” Hastelloy asked of Spain’s newly appointed admiral of the Ocean Sea. He had his own opinions about the three ships that Queen Isabella lent them for the voyage west, but he was curious to hear what the man in charge had to say.

  “I think I like the sound of my new title,” Christopher Columbus answered with an amused grin, but the jovial expression soon morphed to concern. “As far as my voyage of discovery is concerned, I think the task is now far more difficult.”

  Columbus gestured toward the Niña and Pinta moored on the other side of the dock. The ships were built for speed with long, narrow hulls and three masts towering over the main deck. “Caravels like those two are wonderful ships on their own. They have a shallow draught, which makes them maneuverable and fast, but they are limited in the amount of supplies they can carry.

  “The Santa Maria, on the other hand,” Columbus went on as he slapped the railing of his flagship twice, “is a carrack, the pack mule of the seas. She can carry her own weight in supplies, but the fat old girl sacrifices all her speed to do so. That is also well and good on its own, since the extra supplies can feed the crew over a longer time spent at sea.”

  “Mix and match the two types of ships . . .” Hastelloy prompted.

  “And you have a potential disaster,” Columbus finished. “The Niña and Pinta can only go as fast as the Santa Maria will allow, thereby negating their advantage of speed.”

  Hastelloy nodded his head to agree with the assessment. “Yet the disadvantage posed by their lack of supplies still remains.”

  “All we can do now is hope the Santa Maria can carry enough provisions to supplement the other two vessels,” Columbus concluded with a disillusioned shake of his head. “Even with strict rationing, I don’t see us being able to last more than five or six weeks at sea without resupply. Even with your easterly wind patterns filling our sails, we will be several weeks away from the new lands, assuming they are even there, of course.”

  “The lands are there,” Hastelloy declared without a hint of doubt as he grabbed Christopher Columbus by the shoulders and turned him so they stood face-to-face. “We have both seen the maps your father-in-law kept under guarded lock. We both know that men lost their lives protecting the secrets of those maps. The new lands are there.

  “You are correct, though,” Hastelloy went on as he pointed west toward the open sea. “It won’t be a successful voyage if you do it by the book. The prescribed formula of only sailing during daylight hours through unexplored waters to avoid running aground in the dark will leave us well short of the new shores.”

  “Do I have a parrot on my shoulder? I just said that,” Columbus snapped.

  “We need to steal time on the hourglass by sailing at night as well,” Hastelloy suggested.

  “Have. You. Lost. Your. Mind?” Columbus demanded as he struggled to keep his voice quiet.

  “Not at all,” Hastelloy countered. “The maps tell us we can sail west eight hundred leagues without any risk of hitting land.”

  Columbus threw his hands in the air and rolled his head in frustration. “These maps again. You would entrust your life to the accuracy of those drawings, which for all we know could be fabrications of someone’s imagination intended to leave me the victim of a dreadful hoax?”

  On cue with his last words, the boarding plank linking the Santa Maria to the dock was lifted up onto the ship. The meaning of that moment was not lost on either of them and gave Hastelloy leave to say with an amused smirk, “From the moment you first saw those maps, you envisioned making this voyage. In fact, you spent the last two years soliciting sponsors to reach this very moment. It occurs to me that you already decided back then to entrust your life, all our lives, to the accuracy of those maps.

  “There is no room for half measures here, Admiral,” Hastelloy added, giving extra emphasis to the man’s coveted new title.

  Columbus released a heavy sigh through his nostrils before saying, “The crew will not like such a risky policy. It could lead to a mutiny once we reach the unexplored waters.”

  “Maybe, but so will starvation,” Hastelloy countered before flicking his eyes toward an approaching crewman.

  Columbus got the message and turned to meet the approaching sailor. “Report?”

  “All provisions are aboard and stowed below deck. The Niña and Pinta report the same and stand ready to sail at your command, Admiral.”

  “Well then, let us follow the light of the sun as we leave the Old World behind,” Columbus replied with a poetic flare to his words, as if he thought some scribe were jotting down his profound utterance for posterity’s sake.

  “Weigh anchor. Reel in the dock lines and unfurl the main sails,” the crewman bellowed as he returned to the main deck and saw to the ship getting under way.

  Getting a ship of this size moving was like watching a well-choreographed ballet take place upon a vertical stage. The older and stronger men heaved and coiled the ropes, while a host of teenage boys shimmied their way up the sixty-foot-tall masts. They then slinked their way out onto the three levels of yardarms to untie the square-rigged sails. />
  This is my favorite part, Hastelloy thought as gravity caused the fabric to flow down like a waterfall to reveal a bright red Christian cross in the center of the square sail. The pieces of fabric hung slack in the dead air for a few moments until a gust of wind brought them to life.

  Like an orchestra responding to the conductor’s baton, all nine sails snapped into their airfoil position. This translated to the ship lurching forward and away from the dock. Slowly at first, but as the winds persisted, the heavy vessel defied the water’s will to hold her in place and managed a brisk pace.

  What struck Hastelloy most about the whole process was the near silence of it all. Riding a horse carried with it the rhythmic clapping of hooves. Driving a horse-drawn carriage brought the additional bombardment of loud squeaks and creaks of wooden axles and metal wheel frames. For a ship at sea propelled by wind, the only sound was the lapping of gentle waves against the hull.

  Those gentle waves turned to jarring slaps when the Niña and Pinta caught up to and passed the slower flagship. Hastelloy was about to turn his attention to setting their westward course when a shout of warning came down from up above.

  “Contact to the north! Three miles out on an intercept course!”

  Both Columbus and Hastelloy dashed to the right-side railing to have a look. Sure enough, barely visible on the horizon were four large ships.

  “The Spanish fleet giving us a sendoff?” Hastelloy suggested.

  Columbus pulled out his monocular and extended it to have a magnified look at their pursuers. “I’m afraid not,” Columbus answered with concern. “Have a look.”

  Hastelloy held the lens up to his left eye to evaluate the four distant ships. The first thing he noticed was the flag attached to the main mast. The red perimeter encasing a white field with five blue shields arranged in a cross configuration was unmistakable. They were Portuguese vessels, and judging by the three levels of cannon ports dotting the side of each ship, they were not there to make new friends.

  “We are certain to have more supplies aboard than them. Do you think we can outrun them into the open waters until they’re forced to turn back?” Columbus asked in a hopeful tone.

  “Not with this fat cow slowing the rest of the fleet,” Hastelloy answered. “And our one cannon per ship isn’t going to be much of a deterrent against even one ship of the line like those, let alone four of them.”

  “We must return to port, then, for the protection of the fortress cannons,” Columbus concluded. “We can send word to the crown and wait for Her Majesty to send escort ships.”

  “You just barely earned the queen’s sponsorship of this voyage. Do you really think she’ll invest even more effort and resources into this?” Hastelloy challenged. “It is now or never.”

  “It can’t be done, not with those ships of war on our tail. They have a tight angle of pursuit. They will overtake us in a matter of hours.”

  “We’ll turn south until nightfall and send the Niña and Pinta directly in front of this ship to gain some speed by drafting off their wake,” Hastelloy said, more as a command than a suggestion. Columbus was wavering in his resolve and needed a firm hand to get him through this challenge.

  “Fine, that will keep us ahead of them until the morning at best. Then what?” Columbus asked with despair hanging from his every word.

  “By morning, those four ships won’t have a clue where we’ve gone,” Hastelloy responded with an eager spark in his eye.

  **********

  “All right, let’s see if our little creation actually floats,” Hastelloy commented amid the near pitch-black of midnight. The only light to be seen was the occasional glimpse of the moon between clouds, and the pair of oil lamps lit along the back railing of their three ships. Two miles to their rear, four similar sets of lamps gave chase.

  For ships sailing in close proximity to one another, those glowing lamps were a necessity to prevent collisions in the dark. They also had the unfortunate drawback of giving their position away to enemy vessels. In his customary fashion, Hastelloy intended to turn that particular disadvantage into his most useful asset.

  Over the side railing, Hastelloy watched as the collection of four empty kegs tied together around one of their spare masts touched the water. To everyone’s amazement except his own, the makeshift raft remained afloat.

  “Climb aboard, Boy,” Columbus ordered one of the ship’s pages. The young lad did as ordered and never even flinched at the prospect of boarding such a rickety craft in the middle of nowhere.

  “Hold tight the rope as we move it to the back of the ship,” Hastelloy ordered of the men still aboard the Santa Maria. He then looked at Christopher Columbus. “Can you check to make sure the rope at the front tying us to the Niña is taut, and likewise for them to the Pinta?”

  “I still don’t like this. Those ropes are only thirty feet long. One wrong move and we could ram the others,” Columbus complained before heading to the front of the ship.

  “Any longer and we won’t be able to coordinate our efforts. Besides, we’re ordered from quickest to slowest. There is no way we could overtake either of those two ships,” Hastelloy reassured him.

  While Columbus made his way to the front, Hastelloy redirected his attention to the raft trailing the ship and whispered over the railing, “Now climb the riggings, let down the sail and get ready on my mark. We start with the top row and will work our way down.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy responded a little more loudly than Hastelloy would have preferred. Sounds carried across the open waters to the point that even at two miles’ distance, entire conversations could be overheard.

  When the boy reached the top yardarm and gave an affirmative wave, Hastelloy raised his arm and turned to face Columbus at the front of the ship. Columbus raised his arm and turned to the next ship, and so did the officers on the other ships until a silent visual link was established across the three ships.

  Hastelloy drew a deep breath and then dropped his arm. The gesture rippled its way across the three ships until the captain of the Pinta received the order and extinguished both his right and left lanterns. As that happened, Hastelloy turned around to confirm that the boy aboard the raft had uncovered the upper most lamps aboard his craft.

  They repeated the process two more times until the only lanterns still lit were aboard the raft. The synchronization of the switches was so precise that to an onlooker from a few miles’ distance it appeared that nothing had changed at all. All six lanterns were still ablaze and in a single file line.

  Before releasing the ropes holding the raft in place, Hastelloy issued the page boy his final orders in a low whisper. “Hold your southern heading until the morning light reveals the ruse. Then, and only then, you may turn east and make for the shoreline. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” the brave young man whispered as the lines connecting his raft to the ship were dropped.

  Hastelloy turned forward once more and gestured sharply to the west. Columbus did the same and soon the lead ship adjusted course to the west. The Niña followed suit, as did the Santa Maria.

  While the joint maneuver took place, Hastelloy cringed as he watched the rope tethering them to the other ships begin to dance about. One moment it would be so taut that the fibers quivered in their battle to hold together. An instant later, the line was so slack that the lead sail nearly collided with the Niña. An instant later, the line would snap back to full length to test the rope’s strength once more.

  When things stopped moving about, Hastelloy released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. The new course was set, and the ships were still attached and in perfect position to make their nighttime escape. Every member of the crew watched with bated breath as the eight lanterns belonging to their Portuguese pursuers held course and gave chase to the illuminated raft.

  To the crew’s credit, there was not a single sound of celebration during those nighttime hours. When the light of morning finally peeked over the eastern horizon and showed
them to be all alone on their western heading, a great cheer rose up from all three vessels. Even if the Portuguese heard their victorious cries, they were now over a hundred miles to their south and well out of reach. This left the three ships able to get their voyage of exploration under way without any further harassment.

  Chapter 12: Water, Water Everywhere

  AFTER LIVING HUNDREDS of lifetimes, nearly all of them filled with the gruesome horrors of murder and warfare using weapons both modern and archaic, it took a lot to turn Hastelloy’s stomach. He could run a man through with a sword or tie off a severed limb without batting an eye. Yet as he stood on the deck while a man received his floggings from a knotted rope, he could barely bring himself to watch.

  Each and every strike evoked a blood-curdling shriek from the victim that brought Hastelloy back to his own experience on the receiving end of a whip. The physical scars vanished after that lifetime; nonetheless, he remembered well the lashings he took at the hands of Tomal back in Egypt. He wanted to look away. He needed to look away, but for the sake of appearance Hastelloy kept his gaze on the gory scene for its entirety. After all, this was his doing.

  “Ninety-seven!” the rugged boatswain bellowed while raising his fearsome weapon to deliver another righteous blow to the crewman caught palming an extra square of hardtack. It was difficult to believe that a rock-hard food item forged from tasteless flour mixed with water and lard could bring a man to risk such punishment, but these were trying times.

  A regular crewman would have earned twenty floggings for the crime of violating Admiral Columbus’ strict ration rules. The ship’s cooper, though . . . he deserved far worse.