Columbus_ The Four Voyages - Laurence Bergreen [15]
Had Columbus relied on celestial navigation alone, he would have wandered off course, but he possessed another asset that made all the difference: an inborn sense of the sea, of wind and weather. Like other navigators of the day, Columbus did not refer to “true north” (the geographic north pole) or to the “north magnetic pole” (where the earth’s magnetic field suddenly points downward). Instead, he set his course, or direction, with reference to the winds, eight in all, each bearing a traditional Italian name. Tramontana indicated north, Greco northeast, Levante east, Sirocco southeast, Ostro or Auster south, Libeccio or Africo southwest, Ponente west, and Maestro northwest. Because these names referred to the familiar geography of the Mediterranean, Columbus and other navigators simplified this system into eight cardinal points—N, NE, E, SE, S, SW, W, and NW. As additional refinement, he included eight intermediate points—los medios vientos—or half winds. These were NNE, ENE, ESE, SSE, SSW, WSW, WNW, and NNW. There was a further subdivision as well, each point equivalent to 11¼ degrees, or one compass point.
Columbus remained silent concerning his truly remarkable gift: dead reckoning, that is, sailing by the seat of his pants, estimating time and distances with simple devices such as a rope or buoy or landmark. He was an intuitive master of the most ancient form of navigation. All his maps and charts and painfully acquired formal education—so impressive, yet so misleading—were of little use to him. He relied on his instincts and experience concerning tides and wind; the color of the sea and composition of clouds mattered more to him than the mathematical calculations of the era’s leading cosmographers. They had never gone to sea, but Columbus had. His dead reckoning proved so accurate that he had already sailed from Spain to the New World without incident the very first time, and, incredibly, with no loss of life. And each time after that, he improved his course based on experience rather than theory.
The onset of a crisis on November 22 startled him out of the mathematical maze into which he had blundered: “This day Martín Alonso Pinzón”—his chief rival for glory on the voyage—“departed with the caravel Pinta without the permission or desire of the Admiral.” Columbus had no idea why; the weather was fine. Perhaps Pinzón had located a source of gold and wished to keep it secret. Striking an ominous note, Columbus added that he was already building a case against the rebellious captain, noting, “Many other things he had done and said to me.”
Martín Alonso Pinzón’s unauthorized flight was troubling because the voyage had benefited from a professional collaboration between the two captains. A portrait of Pinta’s captain (on display in Madrid’s Museo Naval) shows a studious young man who looks more like a scholar or an aide-decamp than a sea dog or mutineer. His melancholy gaze suggests that he is lost in contemplation or looking at a distant object. He had been born in Palos, which is to say, born to the sea, in 1441 and was now over fifty, experienced, even old for a captain.
As recently as September 25, Columbus had written approvingly in his logbook about a chart “on which it seems the Admiral had depicted certain islands on that sea.” Martín Alonso expressed the opinion that the islands were nearby, and Columbus agreed, and the fleet’s inability to locate them could be attributed to the “currents which set the ships all the while to the NE.” Assuming this to be the case, Columbus asked Pinzón to return the chart for further study “with his pilot and mariners.”
At sunset, “Martín Alonso came up on the poop of his ship, and with much joy shouted to the Admiral, claiming largesse”—a reward—“for sighting land.” What land? Columbus deliberately kept the name and location of the island vague so that his rivals would not be able to take advantage of the discovery.
Before paying up, he “went down on his knees to give thanks to Our Lord,