All day the sailors labored
with the angry waves that kept dashing over the decks; and all that
night the two lonely little ships kept signaling to each other until
they were swept too far apart. When day broke, the _Pinta_ was
nowhere to be seen and was sorrowfully given up for lost. But there was
no time to mourn; this day was even worse than yesterday, and the
Admiral and his sailors, after the custom of their time, made vows that
if only the Virgin would intercede with Heaven and save them, they would
make a pilgrimage to her shrine of Guadalupe, far north of Sevilla, or
go as penitents in procession to the first church they came to after
reaching land.
In spite of these appeals, the danger increased every minute, and we may
well imagine the agony of the little crew. The intrepid Columbus, who
had accomplished a marvelous thing, a feat which would stagger all
Europe, seemed destined to go down in mid-ocean with his great
discovery! Here was the _Pinta_ sunk and the _Nina_ likely to
follow her any minute! Europe would never know that land lay west of her
across the Atlantic! And all those timid, doubting men in Spain, who had
opposed the expedition from the very first, would shake their heads and
say, "Poor men, the sea monsters on the ocean's rim have gobbled them
up!" It must have taken every bit of heart out of the brave Admiral to
think that Spain would never know how gloriously he had succeeded.
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