But there were soon other causes of alarm.  The compass varied strangely, and what hope for them was there if this, their only guide, proved faithless?  They ran into vast meadows of floating seaweed, the Sargasso Sea, and it seemed certain that the ships would soon be so entangled that they could move neither backward nor forward.  Still Columbus pushed steadily on, and his men’s terror and angry discontent deepened until they were on the verge of mutiny; various plots were hatched and it was evident that affairs would soon reach a crisis.

One can guess the Admiral’s thoughts as he paced the poop of his ship on that last night, pausing from time to time to strain his eyes into the darkness.  Picture him to yourself—­a tall and imposing figure, clad in that gray habit of the Franciscan missionary he liked to wear; the face stern and lined with care, the eyes gray and piercing, the high nose and long chin telling of a mighty will, the cheeks ruddy and freckled from life in the open, the white hair falling about his shoulders.  Picture him standing there, a memorable figure, whose hour of triumph was at hand.  He knew the desperate condition of things—­none better; he knew that his men were for the most part criminals and cowards; at any moment they might rise and make him prisoner or throw him overboard.  Well, until that moment, he would hold his ship’s prow to the west!  For twenty years he had labored to get this chance; he would rather die than fail.

And then, suddenly, far ahead, he saw a light moving low along the horizon.  It disappeared, reappeared, and then vanished altogether.  The lookout had also seen it, and soon after, as the moon rose, a gun from the Pinta, which was in the lead, announced that land had been sighted.  It was soon plainly visible to everyone, a low beach gleaming white in the moonlight, and the ships hove-to until daybreak.

In the early dawn of the twelfth day of October, 1492, the boats were lowered, and Columbus and a large part of his company went ashore, wild with exultation.  They found themselves on a small island, and Columbus named it San Salvador.  It was one of the Bahamas, but which one is not certainly known.  Columbus, of course, believed himself near the coast of Asia, and spent two months in searching for Japan, discovering a number of islands, but no trace of the land of gold and spices which he sought.  One of his ships was wrecked and the captain of the third sailed away to search for gold on his own account, so that it was in the little Nina alone that Columbus at last set sail for Spain.

[Illustration:  Columbus]

It was no longer a summer sea through which the tiny vessel ploughed her way, but a sea swept by savage hurricanes.  More than once it seemed that the ship must founder, but by some miracle it kept afloat, and on March 15, 1493, sailed again into the port of Palos.  The great navigator was received with triumphal honors by Ferdinand and Isabella, and invited to sit in their presence while he told the wonderful story of his discoveries.