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CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Message to Readers
1 April 1492 – Toledo, central Spain
2 April 1492 – Toledo, central Spain
13 May 1492 – Palos, south-west Spain
23 May 1492 – Palos
25 May 1492 – Palos
15 June 1492 – Palos
22 June 1492 – Palos
23 June 1492 – Palos
23 July 1492 – Palos
30 July 1492 – Palos
1 August 1492 – Palos (but not for much longer)
2 August 1492 – abroad the Santa Maria in the Tinto River, Palos)
4 August 1492 – somewhere at sea
6 August 1492 – somewhere else at sea
9 August 1492 – still at sea
26 August 1492 – Grand Canary
28 August 1492 – Grand Canary (still)
5 September 1492 – Gomera (again)
10 September 1492 – out on the Ocean Sea
17 September 1492 – somewhere on the Ocean Sea
25 September 1492 – still somewhere on the Ocean Sea
26 September 1492 – still on the Ocean Sea
1 October 1492 – Sailing westwards on the Ocean Sea (but for how much longer?)
6 October 1492 – on the Ocean Sea (though I’m having doubts about even that now)
10 October 1492 – sailing south-west on the Ocean Sea
12 October 1492 – very early morning, in the Indies!
12 October 1492 – evening in the Indies
13 October 1492 – San Salvador
16 October 1492 – at sea again
24 October 1492 – at sea once more
28 October 1492 – in the mouth of a river in the island of Juana (the Admiral has given Colba this name. Don’t ask me why. I thought he thought it was Cipangu.)
29 October 1492 – somewhere along the coast from where we were last night
2 November 1492 – further west along the coast
6 November 1492 – same place
12 November 1492 – somewhere off the coast of who knows where
21 November 1492 – off the coast again, not far from where we were ten days ago
23 November 1492 – further along the coast from two days ago
7 December 1492 – the island of Española
13 December 1492 – Española
18 December 1492 – along the coast of Española
23 December 1492 – further along the coast of Española
24 December 1492 – Christmas Eve aboard the Sana Maria, sailing along the coast of Española
25 December 1492 – Christmas Day, ashore on Española
26 December 1492 – ashore on Española, in the land of King Guacanagari
27 December 1492 – in the land of King Guacanagari
1 January 1493 – New Year’s Day, in the land of King Guacanagari
6 January 1493 – anchored off Española eastwards of La Navidad
8 January 1493 – off the coast of Española
13 January 1493 – still off the coast of Española
16 January 1493 – at sea, on our way home!
25 January 1493 – somewhere on the Ocean Sea
10 February 1493 – somewhere on the moon (well, it’s more interesting than writing “somewhere on the Ocean Sea”…)
12 February 1493 – somewhere on the top of some big waves on the Ocean Sea
13 February 1493 – somewhere in a storm on the Ocean Sea
14 February 1493 – still in the storm on the Ocean Sea (but for how much longer?)
15 February 1493 – off the islands of the Azores (we think)
19 February 1493 – the islands of the Santa Maria, in the Azores
24 February 1493 – at sea once more, on our way home (I hope)
3 March 1493 – somewhere on the Ocean Sea (still no sign of home)
4 March 1493 – at anchor in the River Tagus, in Portugal (wouldn’t you know it!)
5 March 1493 – at anchor in the River Tagus
13 March 1493 – at sea, on the last leg home
15 March 1493 – Palos, home at last!
The Rest of the Story
Publisher’s Addendum
Other Works
Copyright
About the Publisher
MESSAGE TO READERS
It isn’t very often that unknown records of famous events in history are discovered by accident. However, this is exactly what happened when Clive Dickinson caught something much fishier than a fish on a recent weekend fishing trip.
After trawling up several old boots and a couple of sprats, Clive pulled a small wooden barrel out of the water. Inside were pages of rough paper, smelling faintly of tobacco and covered in childlike sketches of what seemed like life on a desert island. There was writing too – in Spanish – and, from Mr Dickinson’s rudimentary knowledge of this language from his frequent holidays in Spain, it seemed to describe a sea journey.
Mr Dickinson soon discovered that he had a priceless document in his hands. Although the name Christopher Columbus* did not appear on any of the pages, it was clear that the writing described the famous voyage Columbus led in 1492, across the Atlantic Ocean, to discover a new sea route to Asia.
Christopher Columbus had kept his own day-by-day account of the voyage, but his original journal has been lost over the last 500 years. Could this new discovery be the only surviving record of that great event?
Using the Internet, Mr Dickinson found two experts on medieval voyages who agreed to examine his find (for a very reasonable price, he says). Dr Miles Away, an Alaskan academic, and the Spanish historian Don Believavor D’Ovid confirmed that the pages in the leather folder were indeed written in 1492 by a member of Columbus’s expedition, who sailed with him on the flagship, the Santa Maria. His duties are a little unclear, but he appears to have spent some of his time as a lookout.
Now, after five centuries, extracts from this remarkable first-hand account have been translated and can be published, recording one of the great turning points in world history, when the Old World and the New World met for the first time.
*‘Columbus’ is a Latin version of the discoverer’s name, which was written differently at various times of his life, depending on the country in which he was living. In Genoa and Portugal he was called Colombo. In Spain his name was written Colón. It is unlikely he ever knew himself by the English name, Christopher Columbus.
1 April 1492 – Toledo, central Spain
¡Ay caramba! I still can’t believe what’s happened.
There are only eight years to go until the start of the new century and people are already getting worked up about it. Some are predicting that the world’s going to end and that none of us will ever see the year 1500.
No-one in our household expected anything like this, though. If it wasn’t so serious, I’d think someone was playing a huge April Fool joke on everyone in Spain. But this isn’t a joke – it’s for real. We heard the news yesterday. There was a Royal Proclamation from the King and Queen and you don’t mess around with orders from the top.
King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella have commanded every Jew to leave Spain by the beginning of August. The only ones allowed to stay are Jews who give up being Jews and change their religion to become Christians.
I can’t see my old master, Isaac Palestino, doing that. After what he’s told me about the Jewish people – how all through their history they’ve been kicked out of one country after another – I expect he’ll pack up, leave Spain and find a new home over the sea.
We’ve been waving goodbye to the Muslims recently. For hundreds of years, Muslim rulers had their own kingdom down in the south of the country. Then, three months ago, on 2 January this Year of Our Lord 1492, the great city of Granada itself surrendered to our King and Queen. That’s a date for the history books. For the first time in centuries, Spain is one country again – a Christian country.
The last of the Muslims have left. Now all the Jews are going. What will be next? They say things happen in threes and if there isn’t a third amazing event in the wind this year, my name isn’t Luc Landahoya.
2 April 1492 – Toledo, central Spain
Master Isaac called me into his study yesterday to break the news that I’ll be out of a job. He’s been so good to me, I was close to tears. He’s taught me to read. I can write. I know a bit of Latin. And I must know more about the world outside Spain than any other servant in the kingdom. When I think about the hours I’ve spent in that study, surrounded by his books, listening to him talking about the great thinkers of ancient times, hearing about the amazing places people have travelled to, I can’t believe that’s all coming to an end – and so suddenly.
Master Isaac told me that he’s going to take the family to the land of the Moors in North Africa. Apparently he’s got relatives there.
After what’s happened down in Granada, I don’t think a Christian like me would be too welcome in the land of the Moors. But I don’t want to stay in Toledo. Life wouldn’t be the same. I fancy a change. Perhaps I’ll try my luck in another country.
13 May 1492 – Palos, south-west Spain
I got here a couple of days ago. Palos wasn’t top of my list of Spain’s seaside towns. I was going to travel to a big exciting port like Seville or Cadiz. Then I found out that all the big ports were crammed full of people like my old master and his family, looking for ships to take them overseas. I could see that I’d be stuck for months, waiting at the back of the queue for all the Jews to leave, before I found a place on a ship. Master Isaac suggested that I should try somewhere smaller. Palos isn’t as popular as Seville or Cadiz. You don’t get many rich people coming down to this little town beside the Tinto River. But the weather’s warm and sunny and there are ships here. It’s close to Portugal. And it’s a good place from which to sail to Mediterranean lands or northwards to countries like France, or Holland, or even England. I’ve found somewhere to stay in the monastery of La Rabida and I reckon I’ll find what I’m looking for before too long.
23 May 1492 – Palos
Today there was another command from King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. This was a special letter from Their Majesties to the people of Palos! The town clerk read it aloud in the Church of St George, where all the important people of the town had gathered. I didn’t think it would be of much interest to me, since I’m only passing through. But I went along to find out what was going on, and hombre, am I glad I did!
It seems that some fellow from the state of Genoa, across the sea in the land of Italy, has persuaded the King and Queen to put up the money for a special voyage. The King and Queen have given this Genoese sailor the rank of Captain General and they say he’s going to sail in three ships to certain parts of the Ocean Sea1. Call me Luc Landlubba, but that makes no sense! How can one man sail three ships at once?
It sounds sort of secret (not to mention magical), so it should be exciting. I pricked up my ears, though nobody else was that thrilled. You see, the proclamation also says that because the people of Palos have been breaking the law by trading along the North African coast and upsetting the King of Portugal, they’ve got to provide this Cristobál Colón2 (I think that’s the Captain General’s name) with two ships and all the food and equipment needed for a voyage lasting a year.
They’ve got to have the ships and everything else ready in ten days’ time. No wonder the locals are fed up about it.
The proclamation doesn’t make it clear where this Colón fellow is going. All it says is that he must not go southwards to the African lands, which the King of Portugal claims are his. That only leaves two directions to sail across the Ocean Sea – north and west. Either way, this could be the chance I’ve been waiting for!
25 May 1492 – Palos
Two days ago I was really excited about the news in the Royal Proclamation.
Now I’m not so sure.
All over Palos, people are talking about it. From what I’ve heard, Captain General Cristobál Colón has been banging on about this voyage for ages. It seems that he’s come up with a brand new way of reaching the Indies – the place where all our spices come from, not to mention expensive goods like silk and precious stones. Some say that he was here in Palos several years ago. By then he’d already tried to get the King of Portugal to pay for his expedition, but Portuguese experts told the King to save his money.
Of course he isn’t the only one to have these big ideas. For a long time sailors from over the border in Portugal have been exploring down the coast of Africa. Until four years ago, all they did was keep sailing southwards. They reckon that if they keep going, they’ll find a new route to the Indies. But it wasn’t much use, because to get to the Indies you have to go eastwards. That was one of the first things I learned from Master Isaac. So I guess the Portuguese are going to be sailing forever.
But four years ago, in 1488, Bartolomeu3 Dias sailed back to Portugal with earth-shattering news. He’d discovered the bottom end of Africa, the southern tip, where the land stops and our Ocean Sea carries on round into another stretch of water, which must lead to the Indies.
If he’s right, the Portuguese have discovered how to sail to the distant lands of Asia – the Indies. But having to sail right round Africa to get there will make it an awfully long trip – and however long would it take to get back?
Captain General Colón’s idea couldn’t be more different. Perhaps that’s why so few people take him seriously. After being turned down by the King of Portugal, he took his plan to our King and Queen.
This was six years ago, in 1486. He told them that he’d worked out how he could cut down the distance to the lands of Asia by sailing westwards! The man must be mad!
It sounds daft, but he must have done some clever talking, because Their Majesties ordered a group of Spanish experts to look at the plan. But the experts turned down the idea just like the Portuguese. I heard somewhere that the Captain General had fiddled the distances to make Asia look closer to Spain than it really is.
Who’s to say who’s right? No-one knows what lies over the horizon. There are still a few people who think the earth’s flat and that you’ll fall off the edge if you sail too far in any direction! At least most people now know that’s a crazy idea.
In Master Isaac’s library I read books which describe terrible monsters out beyond the Ocean Sea. Then there are those stories about sailors from lands in the far north – where the Vikings lived back in the last millennium – that tell of sailing westwards and finding land.
I also read about a holy man from Ireland who did the same thing. St Brendan was supposed to have sailed away in a boat made of leather, to find land to the west.
Who are they trying to kid? That was over 500 years ago, and what do you hear of Vikings, St Brendan or those lands now? Nothing. I can see why so many experts don’t believe in the Captain General’s plan.
But the King and Queen must have believed him, because Colón’s got his money and his ships. This could be the change of scene that I wanted. I am going to see what more I can find out…
15 June 1492 – Palos
The Captain General is having a hard time with his ‘Enterprise of the Indies’, as it’s called. People are making fun of him openly in the streets.
Down the river, two small ships4 are being made ready for him, but what use are ships without sailors? And the Captain General can’t find anyone to sail with him.
The King and Queen have offered to let men out of prison if they sign up for the trip, but even the prisoners don’t seem that keen.
They’ve also promised to pay the men who go with the Captain General with their own Royal money. It looks as if the sailor from Genoa will be on the move again if he can’t find his crews. I don’t want to be the only one to put my name down for this voyage into the unknown – however exciting it might sound to me.
22 June 1492 – Palos
I had a very interesting talk with one of the friars at my lodgings in the monastery last night. He told me that another friar, Antonio de Marchena, had helped the Captain General when he went to see the King and Queen about his Enterprise of the Indies.
Friar Antonio is one of the wisest men in Spain. It seems that he was also one of the first to take the Captain General’s plan seriously, and he put in a good word for Colón when he was called to explain his idea to Their Majesties.
Now he’s helping again. Thanks to Friar Antonio, Martin Alonso Pinzon is going to join the expedition. Martin Alonso is probably the most important sea captain in Palos. He was away when the Royal Proclamation was read. Now he’s back in town, Friar Antonio must have advised him to get his name down for the voyage, before he misses the chance. If he joins the Captain General, other sailors in Palos will be sure to sign up too.
I’d better get down to the Captain General’s first thing in the morning.
23 June 1492 – Palos
There’s now a rush of people wanting to sign up for the voyage. No-one wants to miss the boat! It’s because Martin Alonso Pinzon is going to be captain of one of the ships anchored in the river, the Pinta. Better still, he’s got two of his brothers and a cousin to join the Captain General. One of his brothers is going to be captain of the other ship from Palos, the one they call the Niña. So no magical dividing-into-three from the Captain General, then. Shame. I’d like to have seen that, though I can’t say I’d have liked being captained by just a pair of legs.
It was touch and go for me, because most of the men here have been sailing on ships all their lives. But the Captain General spotted me reading a notice about the voyage, and that clinched it. I don’t think many of the others can read or write. There’s Luis de Torres, who speaks Arabic and several other languages. He’s going along as interpreter. There are a couple of men from court sent by the King and Queen. Apart from them, most of the crew are sailors from up and down the coast.
The Captain General told me he could do with a lad with quick wits and sharp eyes on his flagship, the biggest of the three, which they’ve called the Santa Maria. Then he took me to one side and asked secretively, “Have you heard of Cathay5 and the lands of the Great Khan?”
“You don’t mean the lands where that traveller from Venice, Marco Polo, went 200 years ago?”
The Captain General put his fingers to his lips and winked. “His book has been a bestseller for a couple of centuries,” he whispered. “But just wait till mine hits the streets.” And he smiled knowingly. The strange thing is, I can’t find anything written down to say that’s where we’re heading. No-one else seems to know exactly where he’s taking us. But when the King and Queen give you an all-expenses-paid trip, you don’t argue.
I kept the notice about the voyage. I’ve a hunch it might be useful one day.
23 July 1492 – Palos
This last month has gone in a flash. I’m still sleeping in the monastery at night, but during the day I’m down at the river helping to get ready for the voyage.
My main job has been writing down details about the crews. We’ve got about forty men on board the flagship, the Santa Maria. It’s hard to keep track because among the crew are eleven Juans and four Diegos, Pedros and Rodrigos.
There are seven Juans aboard the Pinta with Captain Martin Alonso Pinzon. Altogether I make it twenty-six for the crew of the Pinta.