And now, just at the moment when he needs it most, comes an incident that, to a man of his religious and superstitious habit, seems like the pointing finger of Providence.  The story of the shipwrecked pilot has been discredited by nearly all the modern biographers of Columbus, chiefly because it does not fit in with their theory of his scientific studies and the alleged bearing of these on his great discovery; but it is given by Las Casas, who says that it was commonly believed by Columbus’s entourage at Hispaniola.  Moreover, amid all the tangles of theory and argument in which the achievement of Columbus has been involved, this original story of shipwrecked mariners stands out with a strength and simplicity that cannot be entirely disregarded by the historian who permits himself some light of imagination by which to work.  It is more true to life and to nature that Columbus should have received his last impulse, the little push that was to set his accumulated energy and determination in motion, from a thing of pure chance, than that he should have built his achievement up in a logical superstructure resting on a basis of profound and elaborate theory.

In the year following Columbus’s return from Guinea, then, he, and probably his family, had gone over to Madeira from Porto Santo, and were staying there.  While they were there a small ship put in to Madeira, much battered by storms and bad weather, and manned by a crew of five sick mariners.  Columbus, who was probably never far from the shore at Funchal when a ship came into the harbour, happened to see them.  Struck by their appearance, and finding them in a quite destitute and grievously invalid condition, he entertained them in his house until some other provision could be made for them.  But they were quite worn out.  One by one they succumbed to weakness and illness, until one only, a pilot from Huelva, was left.  He also was sinking, and when it was obvious that his end was near at hand, he beckoned his good host to his bedside, and, in gratitude for all his kindness, imparted to him some singular knowledge which he had acquired, and with which, if he had lived, he had hoped to win distinction for himself.

The pilot’s story, in so far as it has been preserved, and taking the mean of four contemporary accounts of it, was as follows.  This man, whose name is doubtful, but is given as Alonso Sanchez, was sailing on a voyage from one of the Spanish ports to England or Flanders.  He had a crew of seventeen men.  When they had got well out to sea a severe easterly gale sprung up, which drove the vessel before it to the westward.  Day after day and week after week, for twenty-eight days, this gale continued.  The islands were all left far behind, and the ship was carried into a region far beyond the limits of the ocean marked on the charts.  At last they sighted some islands, upon one of which they landed and took in wood and water.  The pilot took the