The Lost Diary of Christopher Columbus's Lookout

by Clive Dickinson

  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.

  The Niña has got around twenty men. The captain is Vicente Yanez Pinzon. He’s only got four Juans in his crew.

  Since I’ve never been a sailor, I can’t help much with the ropes and sails and things, so once we’re at sea I’m going to be up in the rigging as a lookout. Why couldn’t I have been christened with a safer name, like Luc Havsumviña?

  The ships were a bit of a shock when I first saw them. They seem so small. No wonder they disappear from sight so quickly when they sail away from land. The Captain General has got a little cabin for himself at the back of the Santa Maria, but there’s no proper shelter for the rest of us. We’re going to have to sleep on the open deck, which won’t be much fun. For one thing, the deck is curved, so you keep rolling down to the edge where the waves break over you.

  And, in this hot weather, the black pitch painted over the wood turns all soft and sticky and gets between your toes, and all over your clothes and hands. But we need the dry space under the decks for our food and fresh water, so there’s no point in moaning.

  30 July 1492 – Palos

  We’ve been loading food and other supplies on to the ships all this week. It can’t be long now before we set off. Today, big wooden barrels full of wine were stored in the hold in the bottom of the ship. There are more barrels filled with food down below too. These supplies have got to last us a year, so Domingo Vizcaino, the cooper who looks after the barrels, is going to be busy making sure they don’t leak. If they do, the food will spoil and then we’ll be in trouble. The sailors say food on ships doesn’t taste too good at the best of times. When it turns bad, it adds a whole new meaning to seasickness.

  The Captain General had me checking that we had everything we needed as it came aboard, and I’ve got to take good care of the list. For some reason he has his suspicions about the supplies we are being given by the people of Palos.

  The sailors may not think much of food at sea, but looking at all those goodies, nuts and flour and raisins, it could be a piece of cake.

  Also stored in the hold are all the spare ropes and sails, lanterns and candles, big cooking pots, fire irons and fishing tackle.

  All we need now is the fresh water, which comes on board last. Once that’s stowed away, everything will be ready.

  1 August 1492 – Palos (but not for much longer)

  We started loading the water today, fetching it from the well near the Church of St George, where we first heard about the voyage. The water was carried down to the river bank and tipped into the ship’s boat until the boat was so full it was close to sinking. Then the boat was carefully rowed out to the ship, where the fresh water was scooped out with wooden buckets and tipped into the barrels in the hold.

  I spent all day doing that and I’m exhausted. If the voyage is anything like as tiring, I’m in trouble – big time.

  2 August 1492 – aboard the Santa Maria in the Tinto River, Palos

  I’m still stiff from heaving buckets of water, but I don’t suppose I’ll mind far out in the Ocean Sea when it’s the only fresh water to drink for hundreds, maybe thousands of miles (scary thought, that).

  Today all three crews went to say prayers at a special church service in St George’s. It’s ten weeks since the Royal Proclamation and now we’re all set to go. Everyone seems to have forgotten that we were supposed to have been ready in ten days.

  After church I packed my bag in the monastery and said goodbye to the monks. “God be with you,” said one of them, “I think you’ll need him.” It wasn’t very encouraging.

  “Don’t forget to win new souls for Our Lord,” shouted another as I walked out of the gate. He knew that the Captain General wants to turn any people we meet into Christians. He promised Queen Isabella that was one of his main reasons for the voyage.

  But how many new Christians are we going to find in the lands of the Great Khan, if we do end up there? Marco Polo wrote that the people in Cathay are as civilized as we are in Europe. If that’s right, I can’t see them wanting to give up their religion, whatever it is. It’s like my old master suddenly being asked to stop being Jewish and become Christian overnight. I can’t work out what the Captain General’s up to.

  At the moment I must get used to living on the ship. My first night on board hasn’t got off to a good start. The only flat places to sleep are on the hatches covering the hold and they were nabbed right away. At the moment I’m curled up beside the main mast, but I don’t think I’ll be getting much rest. We must sail with the outgoing tide, and that means leaving before sunrise tomorrow morning. Where will I next touch dry land? What would Master Isaac think if he could see me? I hope he’d be pleased. I’ve been thinking about him a lot the last couple of days. Today was the last day for Jews to leave Spain. I wonder how he’s getting on in his new world? I wonder how I’ll get on in mine?

  4 August 1492 – somewhere at sea

  Our voyage started yesterday morning. Half an hour before sunrise, the order was given to raise the anchor. Some of the sailors used long oars to row the ships out to where the tide was strongest. Then there was the back-breaking work of hoisting the sails, so that the morning breeze could carry us out to sea.

  It looks as if we’ll be having one main meal a day, around eleven o’clock in the morning. This is cooked in a big pot heated over a firebox called a fogon. I was glad to see that sand is spread on the deck to stop it catching fire.

  I expect I’ll get used to the taste of salt meat, but I’m not sure about the sea biscuits. They’re not like any biscuit I’ve ever eaten. For one thing they look and feel like a clay tile. You think your teeth will break when you try biting your first one.

  Then I saw the sailors making their biscuits softer by soaking them in the stew we were eating. That makes them easier to chew, but I can think of a few dogs who would turn their noses up at them.

  We’ve got over a ton of these biscuits on board, so it’s not going to be a luxury cruise on the food front after all.

  The sea is calm. At least that hasn’t made me feel sick yet.

  6 August 1492 – somewhere else at sea

  Our ship, the Santa Maria, is the slowest of the three. The Pinta and the Niña are usually in front of us, only today there was trouble on board the Pinta, when the rudder, which steers the ship, broke loose. Captain Pinzon had it fixed quickly and the Captain General praised him for his good work, but I heard him muttering that some people in Palos had arranged for this to happen. He believes they want to stop him sailing to the Indies. He doesn’t like the two Pinzon brothers getting in front of him all the time
either. I can see trouble brewing.

  9 August 1492 – still at sea

  I couldn’t work out why we’ve been sailing south, when all along the Captain General has been talking about finding a new way to the Indies by sailing west. Now everything has been explained. He’s taking us to the Canary Islands, off the coast of Africa, and today we sighted the island they call Grand Canary. What a silly name!

  Captain Pinzon has been ordered to repair the Pinta or find a new ship there. Meanwhile our ship and the Niña are sailing on to the island of Gomera. I’ve heard the crew whispering that the Captain General has a lady friend on Gomera. Others say they make good cheese on the island.

  So it looks as if I’ll be touching dry land sooner than I expected.

  26 August 1492 – Grand Canary

  We got the cheese, but the Captain General’s lady friend wasn’t at home. We hung about for twelve days, waiting for her to return. Then the Captain General decided to return to Grand Canary, to see how Captain Pinzon was getting on with his repairs, and (so I heard) because his lady friend turned out to be on Grand Canary all the time (guess you could call her his ‘tweetheart’, then!).

  Only she wasn’t there. She left harbour to sail back home a short time before we sailed in. The Captain General wasn’t very pleased to hear that.

  Captain Pinzon’s only just arrived too. It took the Pinta two weeks to get into harbour. So he’s feeling grumpy as well.

  I’m beginning to see what people in Palos meant when they called this voyage a mystery tour. None of us know where we’re going next.

  28 August 1492 – Grand Canary (still)

  Went sightseeing today.

  The Captain General must have seen this poster too, because he’s having a lot of work done “cheap” on the ships.

  The Pinta is in the shipyard, being fitted with a new rudder. Her sails are being changed too, and so are the sails on the Niña. Now they’ll both have square sails like the ones on the Santa Maria. According to the Captain General, the new sails will help the two ships sail better on the voyage, because he reckons the winds will now blow us westwards straight across the Ocean Sea to the island of Cipangu6. A lot of the sailors think he’s had the sails changed so that the Pinzon brothers don’t race ahead and discover the Indies before him.

  5 September 1492 – Gomera (again)

  We’re back here once more. All three ships arrived four days ago and the Captain General was in a much better mood when he finally met up with his lady friend.

  We’ve filled up with more fresh water and taken on the last of our fresh meat and firewood. There’s no turning back now. Tomorrow we set sail into the unknown.

  We’ve been given our sailing orders, which the Captain General made me write down as a record. The ships must stay in sight of each other and must meet up each day at dawn and at dusk for new orders (that will stop the Pinzons racing ahead). He says that we will find land 750 leagues7 to the west, so we aren’t to sail at night after we’ve gone 700 leagues.

  The best part is that Queen Isabella is paying a huge reward – a year’s pay every year, for the first man to sight land. “Look lively, Luc. You could be in luck,” I said to myself.

  10 September 1492 – out on the Ocean Sea

  We lost sight of land today. The last landmark was the massive fiery mountain on Tenerife. Now that has disappeared below the horizon, we’re on our own in the unknown.

  News reached us that three Portuguese ships were lying in wait after we left the Canaries. (They’re not the only ones suspicious about this voyage.) So we had to make a detour to avoid them. Now we’re safe – from the Portuguese at any rate.

  I’m not the only one to have a nervous feeling in my tummy. Even some of the old sailors didn’t eat all their cooked sardines and olives. The Captain General was cheerful enough, telling us not to worry and reminding us about the rich lands we’re going to find. In Cipangu he says there are buildings with roofs covered in gold. He sounds so sure that’s where we’re heading, it makes me wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on.

  He’s right about the winds. They’ve picked up now, and we’re sailing so fast that waves are breaking over the front of the ship. I’m glad I’m not sleeping there.

  At this rate we’ll have sailed the 750 leagues to the Indies in no time at all. The Captain General told the crew we sailed forty-eight leagues today. The funny thing is that I’m sure I saw him writing sixty leagues when he was doing his sums. Does he know something we don’t?

  17 September 1492 – somewhere on the Ocean Sea

  I suppose I should be pleased that the sea is calm and the winds keep blowing us westwards day after day.

  What worries me is that the winds may only blow westwards. If they do, how are going to sail home again? Even I know you can’t sail against the wind if it’s blowing you backwards.

  That’s not my only concern. Last night the compass went wrong. When it was checked against the North Star, the compass needle was pointing slightly to the north-west. If the compass doesn’t point north, we’re in deep trouble.

  The Captain General had the compass checked again just before dawn and this time the needle pointed straight at the North Star. He says the star moves, not the compass. I hope he’s right.

  25 September 1492 – still somewhere on the Ocean Sea

  For the last ten days there have been signs of land. First there were land birds. Then loads of weed on the surface stretching in front of us like a huge carpet. We’ve seen whales, dolphins, and crabs walking on the seaweed, which the sailors say prove we must be close to land somewhere.

  Three days ago Captain Pinzon asked the Captain General if he could look at his chart. Today he sent it back on a line between the two ships.

  Captain Pinzon thinks there are islands in this part of the Ocean Sea and he wants to change course to find them. But the Captain General insists we keep heading west.

  At sunset Captain Pinzon started yelling excitedly from the Pinta and pointing to the horizon. He was shouting that he could see land away to the southwest and wanted the Queen’s reward.

  The Captain General was so pleased I think he would have thrown the money across to him right away. I was up in the rigging, and sure enough, rising out of the sea was a long line about twenty-five leagues away. We all said a prayer of thanks to God and the Captain General changed course to sail southwest towards it.

  The Indies, we’ve found them! History here I come.

  26 September 1492 – still on the Ocean Sea

  That land we saw was only cloud. We carry on sailing westwards.

  1 October 1492 – sailing westwards on the Ocean Sea (but for how much longer?)

  Today the Captain General told the crew that he and the pilot think we’ve sailed about 580 leagues from the Canary Islands. However, I know that he really thinks we’ve sailed more than 700 leagues.

  If he’s right, we must be close to the Indies – or does he now think they’re further away? Is he telling the crew we’ve sailed a shorter distance than we really have to stop them wanting to turn round and sail home?

  6 October 1492 – on the Ocean Sea (though I’m having doubts about even that now)

  We’re all jumpy. It’s almost a month since we set sail from the Canaries. Sailors are saying we’ve sailed at least 800 leagues, fifty leagues further than the Captain General told us before we left. Men are shouting “Land ho” more and more often.

  Every time, they make me jump in case something’s about to crash down on my head!

  We still haven’t found land, and the Captain General has threatened not to give the reward to anyone who shouts he’s seen land but who’s still wrong after three days.

  I’m sick of sea biscuits. The meat is starting to smell as bad as it tastes. We catch fish for a treat and we have to drink more wine each day because the water is so disgusting.

  Anyone who thought this expedition was going to be a picnic was seriously wrong – and yet the sailors tell me we’re hav
ing a good voyage. What are the bad ones like, I want to know? Or maybe I don’t want to know…

  10 October 1492 – sailing southwest on the Ocean Sea

  The Captain General changed course today. If he’s so sure that Cipangu and the Indies are west of us, why are we going in a different direction? Is he lost? Has he been lost all along?

  I’m so worried I find myself counting the time. Every half-hour I watch one of the ship’s boys turn the big sand-glass upside down, so that the sand can run down into the bottom half for another thirty minutes. I want to be sure that they remember to turn that glass. It’s our only way of knowing the time, and if they forget to turn it over, the navigation sums will go wrong and we shan’t be able to work out where we are on the chart.

  What really worries me is that someone may have forgotten to turn the glass earlier in the voyage. Perhaps we’ve been lost for weeks. Maybe we’ve sailed right past Cipangu? Maybe you can’t sail westwards to the Indies after all?

  Everyone except the Captain General feels the same. I hear sailors whispering about throwing him over the side and sailing home. The Captain General has heard them grumbling and has warned them that they won’t escape punishment from the King and Queen even if they do drop him in the Ocean Sea. He’s also reminded us about how rich we’ll all be when we do reach the Indies (where have I heard that before?).

  The other thing is that he’s the only one who knows how to sail home again.

  The plan now is that we will carry on sailing for three more days. If we still haven’t found land, the Captain General has agreed that we can change course for home. In 144 turns of the sand-glass, we could be on our way back to the dear old world we know.

  Why did I leave? If I ever meet Master Isaac again, I’ll have something to say to him about his “big wide world”!

  12 October 1492 – very early morning, in the Indies!