Boat head touched clean sand.  The oars rested.  Christopherus Columbus the Admiral stepped from boat first and alone, all waiting as was right.  He took with him the banner of Spain.  He walked a few yards, then struck the standard into the sand.  There was air enough to open the folds, to make them float and fly.  Kneeling, he bowed himself and kissed the earth.  We heard his strong voice praying. “Domine Deus, aeterne et omnipotens, sacro tuo verbo coelum, et terra, et mare, creasti—­”

We also bowed our heads.  He rose and cried to Fray Ignatio.  The Franciscan was the next to enter this new world.  After him sprang out Diego de Arana and the others.  The Pinzons, too, were now leaving their boats.  All were at last gathered about the Admiral, between blue water and green wood.  Fifty Spaniards, we gathered there, and we heard our fellows left upon the ships cheering us.  We kneeled and Fray Ignatio thanked God for us.

We rose, drew long breath and looked about us, then turned to the Admiral with loud praise and gratulation.  He was girded with a sword, cross-hilted.  Drawing it, he set its point in the sand.  Then with one hand upon the cross, and one lifted and wrapped in the banner folds, he, with a great voice, proclaimed Spain’s ownership.  To the King and Queen of the Spains all lands unchristian and idolatrous that we might find and use and hold, all that were clearly away from the line of the King of Portugal, drawn for him by the Holy Father!  In the name of God, in the name of Holy Church, in the name of Isabella, Queen of Castile, and Ferdinand, King of Aragon and their united Power, amen and amen!  He motioned to the trumpeter who put trumpet to his lips and blew a blast to the north and the south and the east and the west.  At the sound there seemed to come a cry from the fringing wood, a cry of terror.

The island was ours,—­if all this could make it ours.

A piece of scarlet cloth spread upon the sand had heaped upon it necklaces of glass and three or four hawk bells with other toys.  We placed it there, then stood back.  At the Admiral’s command the harquebus and crossbow men laid their weapons down, though watchful eye was kept.  But no arrow flights had come from the wood, and as far as could be seen some kind of lance, not formidable looking, was their only weapon.  Next the Admiral made our fifer to play a merry and peaceful air.

We had noted a clump of trees advanced into the sand and we thought that the bolder men were occupying this.  Now a man started out alone, a young man by the looks of him, drawn as he was against the white sand, and a paladin, for he marched to meet alone he knew not what or whom.  “Blackamoor!” exclaimed De Arana beside me, but as he came nearer we saw that the dead blackness was paint, laid in a fantastic pattern upon his face and body.  Native hue of skin, as we came presently to find in the unpainted, was a pleasing red-brown.  He advanced walking daintily and proudly, knowing that his people were watching him.  Single Castilian, single Moor, had advanced so, many a time, between camps, or between camp and fortress.