On the open seas, removed from their lamenting and despondent relatives, the crews gradually subsided into a state of discipline.  The quarter-deck is perhaps the severest test of character known.  Despite themselves the sailors began to feel the serene and kindly strength of the man who was their master.

With a tact and understanding as great as his courage and self-command Colon told his men more than they had ever known of the Indies.  The East had for generations been the enchanted treasure-house of Europe.  Arabic, Venetian, Genoese and Portuguese traders had brought from it spices, rare woods, gold, diamonds, pearls, silk, and other foreign luxuries.  But the wide and varied reading of the Admiral had given him more definite information.  He told of the gilded temples of Cipangu, the porcelain towers of Cathay, rajahs’ elephants in gilded and jeweled trappings, golden idols with eyes of great glowing gems, thrones of ebony inlaid with patterns of diamonds, emeralds and rubies, rich cargoes of spices, dyewood, fine cotton and silk, pearl fisheries, the White Feast of Cambalu and the Khan’s great hall where six thousand courtiers gathered.  Portugal already was reaching out toward these Indies, groping her way around the African coast.  Were they, Spaniards and Christians, to be outdone by Portuguese and Arab traders?  No men ever had so great a future.  Not only the wealth of the Indies, but the glory of winning heathen empires to abandon their idols for the Christian faith, was the adventure to which they were pledged; and he strove to kindle their spirits from his own.

To Pedro the cabin-boy, listening in silence, it was like an entrance into another world.  When he asked to be taken on he had been moved simply by a boy’s desire to go where he had not been before.  Now he served a demigod, who led men where none had dared go.  The Admiral might have the glory of rediscovering the western route to the Indies; his cabin-boy was discovering him.

The sea was beautifully calm, and there was time for talk and speculation.  A drifting mast, to which nobody would have given two thoughts anywhere else, was pointed out as an evil omen.  Pedro grinned cheerfully and elevated his nose.

“Do you not believe in omens, Pedro?” asked the Admiral, somewhat amused.  He had not found many Spaniards who did not.

“One does not believe all one hears, my lord,” the youngster answered, coolly.  “Tia Josefa saw ill omens a dozen times a week, all sure death; and she is ninety years old.  A mast drifting with the current is usual.  When I see one drifting against it I will begin to worry.”

The jumpy nerves of the sailors were easily upset.  They might have been calmer if the sea had been less calm.  It is hard for Spanish blood to endure inaction and suspense together.  Day after day a soft strong wind wafted them westward.  Ruiz, one of the pilots, bluntly declared that he did not see how they could ever sail back to Spain against this wind, whether they reached the Indies or not.