“No one,” Columbus answered, looking over his captivated men. “There is an artifact in Atlantis as old as time. Legends say its pommel can turn anything it touches into gold. I believe this artifact is real. And should you follow me a little longer, I swear by the oceans blue, I will claim it as my own, and for your part, make us all rich as kings.”
“What’s this artifact called then?” someone asked.
“The Trident of Poseidon,” Columbus answered.
The crew murmured again, but as the gold was passed around, Columbus’s words became hard to deny. There was something about the sight of gold, the heft of it in your hands that spurred the heart and clouded the reason. It was the glimmer that widened the eye, the bulging purse that drew the breath and made all else pale in comparison.
“I say we support the captain,” one of the crew shouted. “He’s never steered us wrong yet.”
“He’s never steered us right neither!”
“True, but we’re already out here, and I ain’t headed back empty-handed.”
“To Atlantis then?”
The crew murmured their agreement.
“To Atlantis!” Columbus shouted.
“To Atlantis!” the crew erupted.
And as if their fates were set by divine providence, the first heady wind blew across the bow, and then another louder cheer went up.
On the forecastle, Monday cheered too.
“What are you cheering for?” Tuesday asked. “You don’t even know what’s being said.”
“I’m providing emotional support!” Monday answered.
Fanucio cleared his throat and nodded toward Nyx. “And the girl? Is it still…?” He motioned over the side of the boat.
Columbus had forgotten about the girl. She’d nearly cost him his head twice. Oddly, she was smiling.
“He can’t,” Nyx said eventually. “He needs me.”
“Do I?” Columbus asked.
“The disk has taken you as far as it can. By my guess, you’ve correctly decoded the Greek numerals as coordinates, but you have no idea what to do next.”
“And you do?”
Nyx shrugged. “Unless you have someone else aboard who can read ancient Athenian.”
This time, Columbus couldn’t contain his surprise. “Who are you?”
“I told you. My name is Nyx. And I am going to be the world’s first female explorer.”
Columbus glanced at Fanucio, and they both burst into laughter.
“A female explorer? There’s no such thing.”
“There is now,” she smirked before setting the bronze disk on the deck to study it.
“Okay. Which way, Captain Nyx?” Columbus asked.
Nyx stood and looked over his shoulder, her smile vanished in an instant.
“West,” she gulped. “As fast as you can.”
“Speed is a requirement?”
“It is if we want to outrun them,” she nodded behind him.
Columbus whirled to see two sails on the horizon, their red crosses visible even from afar.
“It’s the Niña and Pinta!” Fanucio cried. “They musta been hidden in the sun.”
Columbus cursed himself. Regardless of their eight-day idleness, he should have had his crew ready. And, now, his enemy had the wind-gauge. “All hands to the lines! Full sail!”
As the sails unfurled, a groan issued from the mast, and the slush of water rose.
The pursuing vessels were already moving at several knots. They were also lighter and faster. Barely midday, with no clouds on the horizon, their hope of escape looked bleak.
“Can we outrun them?” Nyx said, bluster gone.
“No,” Columbus replied. “They’re smaller, lighter, and carry much less draft. At best, we have an hour or two before they catch us.”
“But you have weapons.”
“Verso guns and breech-loaded lombards. Not enough to repel two ships. It’ll be hand-to-hand fighting then. We have numbers, but I’m betting they have significantly more arms. Can you decipher that thing?”
Nyx eyed the disk, “I believe so.”
“You believe so? Brommet, our lives are on the line. I need a better answer than that.”
“Yes, though it’s still just a map. Even if it leads us to a proper location, it’ll be a miracle if we find something there to help us.”
“Then you’d better get on with it. Because a miracle is exactly what we need.”
As the girl returned to the disk, Columbus took up a spyglass and fixed it on the pursuing vessels. His fear was confirmed. It was the Niña and Pinta, two ships he’d seen docked in Córdoba, which meant they’d been pursuing him since his departure three weeks before. Eventually, he locked onto a figure at the bow of the Niña, a spyglass also in hand.
Vespucci.
Who else? Columbus had humiliated the man. If there was any good news, Columbus understood Vespucci’s skills lay with politicking, not seamanship. If it came to a fight—and it appeared it would—Columbus would have the two best skills one could have in his position: experience and imagination.
“Wind’s picking up astern,” Fanucio said.
“It won’t be enough.”
“Not to worry, Cap’n. The men are itching for a fight. Even your two hairy pets appear to be game.”
On the poop, the Pygmies sharpened their spears, undaunted. Columbus couldn’t help but smile. Someone would board this ship thinking them easy targets. It would be their last mistake.
“Have the master-at-arms begin dispersing weapons. Send the youths to the pumps and prepare the coopers for patching holes.”
“What about the girl?”
Nyx remained seated on the deck, staring intently at the disk, her quivering hand trailing over the raised letters.
“When the firing starts, send her below.”
Fanucio took a slug from a flask. “At least it’s a clear day for a fight.”
Columbus took a slug himself. “Tomorrow’s always better.”
The first cannon blast came at midday only to fall a hundred yards short.
Columbus turned to his crew. “Maybe we should slow down and give them some hope before we send then to the depths, eh?”
The crew responded with an “huzzah!”
For their part, the Niña and Pinta had veered apart but maintained an equidistant approach as they closed in. The pincer move was obvious, but would it prove effective? Time would tell.
While Fanucio hobbled around the deck getting the crew armed and in position, Columbus stood stoutly at the wheel. To his surprise, the girl continued to ask questions. Where was the north star? How many leagues had they traveled since setting out from the Straits of Gibraltar? Could he tell her exactly when it was midday? With each answer, Nyx moved the disk alongside the ship’s dry compass, watching it swing unpredictably on its gimbal, eyes flitting between the two as if their proximity might glean some answer.
Columbus nearly laughed. In his years of pursuing of Atlantis, he could have never imagined getting so desperate that he would turn to a know-it-all twelve-year-old girl. “Truth is stranger than fiction,” Drakos, his first captain, used to say. Columbus hoped this might prove one of those occasions.
The second canon blast from the Niña splashed down just off the ship’s stern. Columbus was about to order return fire when Nyx shouted, “South by southwest!” It was an extreme course correction and one that would immediately draw the pursuing caravels closer. Whether out of desperation or lunacy, Columbus complied.
As the gap closed, Columbus finally gave the order to fire. The blasts shook the deck and filled the air with smoke. Two more struck water, but the next made the unmistakable sound of hitting wood. A cry went up. First blood!
Barely a second passed before the Niña and Pinta returned fire. Hot lead whooshed overhead. Columbus was about to order Nyx below when she shouted another course change, two points west. He followed while noticing the strangest thing. The compass needle was spinning around, wildly changing direct
ion.
“What’s happening?” Columbus asked.
Nyx looked up, eyes wide. “I think we’re close. Do you trust me?”
A cannonball struck the port side of the ship. Their pursuers were in range now.
“Hell no, I don’t trust you!” he shouted over the din. Then one of the enemy volleys struck the forecastle balustrade, sending wood and debris flying in every direction. Desperate, he locked eyes with the girl again. Has it really come to this?
“Whatever you’re going to do, do it quick!”
To his surprise, the girl stood, hefting the bronze disk up. “Remember you said that,” she uttered. Then she heaved the disk over the side of the ship.
Chapter Five
“Are you mad?!” Columbus howled before turning the wheel to come around.
The sails tacked, the jib swung, and the ship shot aggressively windward. The move was so shocking it forced the captain of the Pinta to turn leeward to avoid crashing into the Santa Maria’s stern. At the same time, the Niña turned to portside. Columbus could hear Vespucci screaming over the din.
The move bought Columbus time. He turned to lay into the girl when he saw she stood at the starboard gunwale, looking down at the waves. Columbus figured the disk had settled to the bottom of the ocean.
“There!” Nyx shouted.
Columbus looked. The disk was floating in the water some two hundred yards away.
Columbus was flabbergasted. He had no clue why the girl had thrown the disk overboard in the first place. Now, she was pointing it out to him. Matters were made worse as he saw the Niña and Pinta also coming around, as if they were intent on reaching it first.
Columbus shouted for his weapons. A boy returned with Columbus’s sword, which he quickly lashed around his waist along with the bandolier of jade explosives.
When the bronze disk was less than one hundred yards out, Columbus ordered the sails dropped. As their speed plummeted, the Niña closed in from behind.
Fanucio cried out to ready the men. A moment’s silence was ripped apart as both ships exchanged cannon fire. The Niña’s sails dropped, and a dozen grappling hooks sailed through the air, latching onto the Santa Maria’s gunwale. Columbus ordered the lines cut, but several of the men were cut down by blunderbuss fire.
As the ships met, a gut-wrenching impact shook both decks and knocked many off their feet. Columbus was the first to meet the attackers as they swarmed the Santa Maria. A quick exchange of gunfire filled the afternoon air with smoke and blood. Then the battle turned to close quarters fighting.
A ruddy, armed Spaniard yelled as he charged Columbus, who parried the blade and buried his own in the man’s chest. As he fell, three more took his place. Columbus quickly found himself on his heels. The largest attacker swung an axe with great arcing swings that threatened to take his head off. To his surprise, the man suddenly screamed out in pain as a crimson flower stained his jerkin. The man fell, revealing Nyx behind him, a sword in her hand.
“Get below deck!” he shouted. “This is no place for a child.”
The girl gritted her teeth. “I told you, I’m no child!”
With unimaginable speed, Nyx ducked under an attack, her blade flying with adept precision as she cut one, two, three men down. She turned back with a smug sneer.
“Admit it,” she said. “You need more sword.”
“If that’s true, I’m in worse shape than I thought.”
Columbus shoved the girl as another blade nearly took off her head. She winced, guilty, as Columbus ran her attacker through and they both dove back into the fray.
On the deck of the Niña, Vespucci continued to shout orders. Then, he locked eyes with Columbus and sneered. There was no chance the man would leave the safety of his ship just yet. That didn’t stop a group of Columbus’s crewmen from preparing their own counterattack. Columbus saw it and waved them back. The crew looked confused but fell back.
The fight became centered over the gunwales. Fanucio shot off one of the versos and hot scraps of metal flew out, shredding flesh and anything in its way.
Through the wafting smoke, Columbus noticed the Pygmies still sitting atop the forecastle. They’d yet to join in the fight.
“Well?” he asked in the worst Pygmy this side of Africa. Or, any side, really. “Are you going to spectate the entire battle?”
Monday shrugged before pointing behind him. Columbus’s head snapped around a second before the Pinta slammed into them.
“Aft side!” Columbus shouted.
His crew split in two. As the Pinta’s sailors charged the deck, the fighting intensified. Columbus’s men were game but were mostly drunkards and criminals whereas those aboard the Niña and Pinta had fought against the Moors for years. The odds didn’t look good.
Columbus heard Fanucio shout. A moment later, casks of burning oil crashed down from above, splitting on the decks of the Niña, forcing their sailors out of the fight. To their utter surprise, that was when two small Africans leaped across the Void and announced their presence with a foreign chant that sounded like a child’s hymn. Many of the enemy laughed. Then, the Pygmies went to work.
They moved with uncanny precision; ducking, diving, slashing, and leaping like acrobats from a stage show. Enemy after enemy fell. The Pinta’s captain was forced to call back a group of men to counter the diminutive attackers. The plan backfired when the Pygmies leaped into the rigging and continued to slay from above.
For all the skills on display that day, however, none was as graceful or as deadly as Columbus. He moved with the speed and economy of one who had trained for this purpose all his life. His steps were light, his sorties precise. And any who saw him there—slashing, parrying, thrusting—would likely miss the most compelling aspect of all: the fire that burned in his eyes. This was what he lived for.
His one mistake came as a half-dozen men charged him simultaneously. He cut loose four barrels to take them out. The barrels mowed men down like bowling pins. One broke open, spilling the wine Fanucio had hidden for himself. His cry resembled the wail of a mother as her children were snatched away.
An axe blade narrowly missed his nose and struck the floor, cleaving his new wooden foot in two. Fanucio looked up. “You’ll pay for that.”
As the battle raged, Columbus was surprised to find himself looking after the girl. She meant nothing to him, of course. So, why was he so concerned with her? She moved easily through the swath of brute men. Someone had taught her well. He didn’t recognize the style, but he could see it was effective. How was it that she showed so little fear for one her age? Who was this girl? He made a mental note to find out should they both survive.
Just then a shadow loomed over him. He looked up to see a towering dark-skinned Moor. The man had arms the size of porpoises, and the hammer in his hand was slick with blood. He eyed Columbus with a toothless grin.
“Hello, there,” Columbus said. “Have you met Pedro?”
The Moor’s brow furrowed. Then he turned to see Giant Pedro arcing his axe high into the air. The blade struck the Moor’s head and split it in half. As the two halves fell and the body dropped, Pedro smiled. Then four men charged him and skewered him as he failed to pull his axe from the deck.
A few feet away, Fanucio waged his own fight, which Columbus had always called “the drunken fool.” He swung a sword over his head, shrieking wildly. When a Spaniard charged him, Fanucio lifted his peg leg and rammed the split foot into his eye. As the man screamed, Fanucio winked at Columbus.
The fevered fight continued despite the casualties piling up. Then all at once a horn sounded. The fighting paused as Vespucci waved a white flag from atop the Pinta’s forecastle.
“Vespucci, you cur,” Columbus growled, “are you surrendering?”
“Heavens, no, man. You’re overrun. I’m giving you a chance to parlay.”
“Parlay? Never was much good at that. Why don’t you come down here and we’ll have a proper discussion?”
“You’ve lost, Captain.
You know it, and I know it. Stop here, and no more of your crew will be harmed. On behalf of the crown, I promise your men will face no charges. Only you.”
“And I travel back in fetters? No thanks.”
“I give you my word, you’ll be treated like a gentleman. You can sleep and dine in my cabin.”
Columbus pursed his lips. “So, it’s to be torture, is it?”
Columbus’s crew laughed.
“Is that your final answer?”
Was it? Over the course of his lifetime, Columbus had read many books on sea tactics. And almost every ship captain worth his salt said there were only two options when facing overwhelming odds: fight or run. The word surrender never came up because it most assuredly meant a life in chains. And to those hands used to the liberty of the sea, chains were a far worse fate than death. But here Vespucci stood offering something different. Freedom for his crew and a trial for Columbus. He had to consider it. Sure, he’d only taken on the crew a few weeks back and knew none of them. Yet they were still his crew. His responsibility. Were their lives worth his quest?
Columbus looked out over the water, considering how far they’d come—how far he’d come. To give up now, to push aside all his hopes and dreams was too much to bear. The girl claimed they were at the doorstep of Atlantis and he would be damned if he would hand it over for another man’s glory. Live or die, succeed or fail, it would be by his own hand.
“You want an answer?” Columbus asked. “Here it is.”
He hurled his sword at Vespucci. The blade narrowly missed him and stuck in the mast.
“Finish them!” Vespucci roared.
As the battle resumed, Fanucio noticed something off their stern. “Cap’n, look!”
At the back, Nyx had loaded herself into a dinghy and was lowering it into the water.
“Guess she preferred option one after all,” Columbus said.
“Or maybe she’s smarter than the rest of us.”
As more enemies charged in, the men found themselves back-to-back.
Nyx paddled away from the Santa Maria as the clangor of battle echoed behind her. She felt guilty at slipping away, but she hadn’t wanted the disk to escape her sight. Columbus had pinned all his hopes on it, and if she couldn’t accomplish this task, the battle wouldn’t matter.
Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis Page 6