They promised him everything, for promising is easy.  But Columbus had once more to learn the truth of the old Bible warning that he had called to mind years before on the Bridge of Pinos:  Put not your trust in princes.

The king and queen talked very nicely and promised much, but to one thing King Ferdinand had made up his mind—­Columbus should never go back again to the Indies as viceroy or governor.  And King Ferdinand was as stubborn as Columbus was persistent.

Not very much gold had yet been brought back from the Indies, but the king and queen knew from the reports of those who had been over the seas and kept their eyes open that, in time, a great deal of gold and treasure would come from there.  So they felt that if they kept their promises to Columbus he would take away too large a slice of their profits, and if they let him have everything to say there it would not be possible to let other people, who were ready to share the profits with them, go off discovering on their own hook.

So they talked and delayed and sent out other expeditions and kept Columbus in Spain, unsatisfied.  Another governor was sent over to take the place of Bobadilla, for they soon learned that that ungentlemanly knight was not even so good or so strict a governor as Columbus had been.

Almost two years passed in this way and still Columbus staid in Spain.  At last the king and queen said he might go if he would not go near Hayti and would be sure to find other and better gold lands.

Columbus did not relish being told where to go and where not to go like this; but he promised.  And on the ninth of May, 1502, with four small caravels and one hundred and fifty men, Christopher Columbus sailed from Cadiz on his fourth and last voyage to the western world.

He was now fifty-six years old.  That is not an age at which we would call any one an old man.  But Columbus had grown old long before his time.  Care, excitement, exposure, peril, trouble and worry had made him white-haired and wrinkled.  He was sick, he was nearly blind, he was weak, he was feeble—­but his determination was just as firm, his hope just as high, his desire just as strong as ever.  He was bound, this time, to find Cathay.

And he had one other wish.  He had enemies in Hayti; they had laughed and hooted at him when he had been dragged off to prison and sent in chains on board the ship.  He did wish to get even with them.  He could not forgive them.  He wanted to sail into the harbor of Isabella and Santo Domingo with his four ships and to say:  See, all of you!  Here I am again, as proud and powerful as ever.  The king and queen have sent me over here once more with ships and sailors at my command.  I am still the Admiral of the Ocean Seas and all you tried to do against me has amounted to nothing.

This is not the right sort of a spirit to have, either for men or boys; it is not wise or well to have it gratified.  Forgiveness is better than vengeance; kindliness is better than pride.