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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Shipmate--Columbus, by Stephen Wilder
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: My Shipmate--Columbus
+
+Author: Stephen Wilder
+
+Illustrator: Llewellyn
+
+Release Date: October 24, 2008 [EBook #27019]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SHIPMATE--COLUMBUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ My
+ Shipmate--
+ Columbus
+
+ By STEPHEN WILDER
+
+
+    _We've been taught from childhood that the earth is round and that
+    Columbus discovered America. But maybe we take too much on faith.
+    This first crossing for instance. Were you there? Did you see
+    Columbus land? Here's the story of a man who can give us the
+    straight facts._
+
+
+The laughter brought spots of color to his cheeks. He stood there for a
+while, taking it, and then decided he had had enough and would sit down.
+A whisper of amusement still stirred the room as he returned to his seat
+and the professor said,
+
+"But just a moment, Mr. Jones. Won't you tell the class what makes you
+think Columbus was not the 'bold skipper' the history books say he was.
+After all, Mr. Jones, this is a history class. If you know more or
+better history than the history books do, isn't it your duty to tell
+us?"
+
+[Illustration: He clutched at his slashed veins and snarled into the
+face of death.]
+
+"I didn't say he _wasn't_," Danny Jones said desperately as the laughter
+started again. Some profs were like that, he thought. Picking on one
+student and making the rest of the class laugh and think what a great
+guy the prof was and what a prize dodo the hapless student was. "I
+said," Danny went on doggedly, "Columbus might not have been--maybe
+wasn't--the bold skipper the history books claim he was. I can't prove
+it. No one can. I haven't a time machine."
+
+Again it was the wrong thing to say. The professor wagged a finger in
+front of his face and gave Danny a sly look. "Don't you," he said,
+"don't you indeed? I was beginning to think you had been willed H. G.
+Wells' famous literary invention, young man." That one had the class all
+but rolling in the aisles.
+
+Danny said desperately, "No! No, I mean, they don't even know for sure
+if Columbus was born in Genoa. They just think he was. So they also
+could be wrong about--"
+
+Abruptly the professor's face went serious. "My dear Mr. Jones," he said
+slowly, acidly, "don't you think we've had enough of fantasy? Don't you
+think we ought to return to history?"
+
+Danny sat down and for a moment shut his eyes but remained conscious of
+everyone looking at him, staring at him, evaluating. It wasn't so easy,
+he decided, being a sophomore transfer student from a big city college,
+where almost everything went and there was a certain amount of anonymity
+in the very size of the classes, to a small town college where every
+face, after a week or so, was familiar. Danny wished he had kept his big
+yap shut about Columbus, but it was too late now. They'd be ribbing him
+for weeks....
+
+On his way back to the dorm after classes he was hailed by a student who
+lived down the hall from him, a fellow named Groves, who said, "How's
+the boy, Danny. Next thing you'll tell us is that Cortez was really a
+sexy Spanish broad with a thirty-eight bust who conquered Montezuma and
+his Indians with sex appeal. Get it, boy. I said--"
+
+"Aw, lay off," Danny grumbled.
+
+The other boy laughed, then shrugged, then said, "Oh yeah, forgot to
+tell you. There's a telegram waiting for you in the dorm. House-mother's
+got it. Well, see you, Vasco da Gama."
+
+Danny trudged on to the Georgian-style dormitory and went inside,
+through the lobby and behind the stairs to the house-mother's office at
+the rear of the building. She was a kindly-looking old woman with a halo
+of white hair and a smile which made her a good copy of everyone's
+grandmother. But now her face was set in unexpectedly grim lines.
+"Telegram for you, Danny," she said slowly. "They read it over the
+telephone first, then delivered it." She held out a yellow envelope.
+"I'm afraid it's some bad news, Danny." She seemed somehow reluctant to
+part with the little yellow envelope.
+
+"What is it?" Danny said.
+
+"You'd better read it yourself. Here, sit down."
+
+Danny nodded, took the envelope, sat down and opened it. He read, MR.
+DANNY JONES, WHITNEY COLLEGE, WHITNEY, VIRGINIA. REGRET TO INFORM YOU
+UNCLE AVERILL PASSED AWAY LAST NIGHT PEACEFULLY IN HIS SLEEP LEAVING
+UNSPECIFIED PROPERTY TO YOU. It was signed with a name Danny did not
+recognize.
+
+"I'm terribly sorry," the house-mother said, placing her hand on
+Danny's shoulder.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Grange. It's all right. You see, Uncle
+Averill wasn't a young man. He must have been in his eighties."
+
+"Were you very close to him, Danny?"
+
+"No, not for a long time. When I was a kid--"
+
+Mrs. Grange smiled.
+
+"Well, when I was eight or nine, I used to see him all the time. We
+stayed at his place on the coast near St. Augustine, Florida, for a
+year. I--I feel sorry about Uncle Averill, Mrs. Grange, but I feel
+better about something that happened in class today. I--I think Uncle
+Averill would have approved of how I acted."
+
+"Want to talk about it?"
+
+"Well, it's just he always said never to take any so-called fact for
+granted, especially in history. I can almost remember his voice now, the
+way he used to say, 'if ever there's an argument in history, sonny, all
+you ever get is the propaganda report of the side which won.' You know,
+Mrs. Grange, I think he was right. Of course, a lot of folks thought old
+Uncle Averill was a little queer. Touched in the head is what they
+said."
+
+"They oughtn't to say such things."
+
+"Always tinkering around in his basement. Funny, nobody ever knew on
+what. He wouldn't let anybody near the place. He had a time lock and
+everything. What nobody could figure out is if he was trying so hard to
+guard something that was in the basement, why did he sometimes disappear
+for weeks on end without even telling anybody where he went. And I
+remember," Danny went on musing, "every time he came back he went into
+that harangue about history, as if somehow he had confirmed his
+suspicions. He was a funny old guy but I liked him."
+
+"You remembering him so vividly after all these years will be the best
+epitaph your uncle could have, Danny. But what are you going to do?
+About what he left you, I mean."
+
+"Uncle Averill always liked promptness. If he left something for me,
+he'd want me to pick it up immediately. I guess I ought to go down there
+to St. Augustine as fast as I can."
+
+"But your classes--"
+
+"I'll have to take an emergency leave of absence."
+
+"Under the circumstances, I'm sure the college will approve. Do you
+think your uncle left you anything--well--important?"
+
+"Important?" Danny repeated the word. "No, I don't think so. Not by the
+world's standards. But it must have been important to Uncle Averill. He
+was a--you know, an image-breaker--"
+
+"An iconoclast," supplied Mrs. Grange.
+
+"Yes'm, an iconoclast. But I liked him."
+
+Mrs. Grange nodded. "You'd better get over and see the Dean."
+
+An hour later, Danny was at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound
+that would take him over to Richmond, where he would meet a train for
+the south and Florida.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a rambling white stucco house with a red tile roof and a pleasant
+grove of palm trees in front and flame-red hibiscus climbing the stucco.
+The lawyer, whose name was Tartalion, met him at the door.
+
+"I'll get right down to business, Mr. Jones," Tartalion said after they
+had entered the house. "Your uncle wanted it that way."
+
+"Wait a minute," Danny said, "don't tell me they already had the
+funeral?"
+
+"Your uncle didn't believe in funerals. His will stipulated cremation."
+
+"But, it was so--"
+
+"Sudden? I know, the will wasn't officially probated. But your uncle had
+a judge for a friend, and under the circumstances, his wishes were
+granted. Now, then, you know why you're here?"
+
+"You mean, what he left me? I thought I'd at least get to see his--"
+
+"His body? Not your uncle, not old Averill Jones. You ought to know
+better. Sonny," the lawyer asked abruptly, "how well did you know the
+old man?"
+
+The sonny rankled. After all, Danny thought, I'm nineteen. I like beer
+and girls and I'm no sonny anymore. He sighed and thought of his history
+class, then thought of Uncle Averill's opinion of history, and felt
+better. He explained the relationship to Mr. Tartalion and waited for
+the lawyer to speak.
+
+"Well, it beats me," Tartalion admitted. "Why he left it to a nephew he
+hasn't seen in ten or eleven years, I mean. Don't just look at me like
+that. You know that contraption he had in the basement, don't you? How
+he wouldn't let a soul near it, ever? Then tell me something, Danny. Why
+did he leave it to you?"
+
+"You're joking!" Danny cried.
+
+"I was your uncle's lawyer. I wouldn't joke about it. He said it was the
+only thing he had worth willing. He said he willed it to you. Want me to
+read you the clause?"
+
+Danny nodded. He felt strangely flattered, because the contraption in
+Averill Jones' basement--a contraption which no one but Averill Jones
+had ever seen--had been the dearest thing in the old bachelor's life.
+Actually, he was not Danny's uncle, but his grand-uncle. He had lived
+alone in St. Augustine and had liked living alone. The only relative he
+had tolerated was Danny, when Danny was a small boy. Then, as Danny
+approached his ninth birthday, the old man had said, "They're teaching
+you too much at school, son. Too many wrong things, too many
+highfalutin' notions, too much just plain old hogwash. Why don't you
+kind of make yourself scarce for a few years?" It had been blunt and to
+the point. It had made Danny cry. He hadn't thought of what had happened
+that last day he'd seen his grand-uncle for years, but he thought of it
+now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"But why can't I come back and see you?" he had asked tearfully.
+
+"On account of the machine, son."
+
+"But _why_, uncle?"
+
+"Hey, come on now and stop your blubbering all over me. If you can't you
+can't."
+
+"You have to tell me why!"
+
+"Stubborn little critter. Well, I like that. All right, I'll tell you
+why. Because the machine has a funny kind of fuel, that's why. It
+doesn't run on gasoline, Danny, or anything like that."
+
+"What does it do, uncle?"
+
+But the old man had shaken his head. "Maybe someday after I'm gone
+you'll find out. If anyone finds out, it will be you, and that's a
+promise."
+
+"You still didn't tell me why I have to go away."
+
+"Because--well, don't go telling this to your folks, son, or they'll
+think old Uncle Averill has a screw loose somewheres--because that
+machine I have downstairs runs on faith. On faith, you understand? Oh,
+not the kind of faith they think is important and do a lot of talking
+and sermoning about, but a different kind of faith. Personal faith, you
+might say. Faith in a dream or a belief, no matter what people think.
+And--you know what ruins that faith?"
+
+"No," Danny had said, his eyes very big.
+
+"Knowledge!" cried his uncle. "Too much so-called knowledge which isn't
+knowledge at all, but hearsay. That's what they're teaching you. In
+school, other places, every day of your life. I'll tell you when you can
+come back, Danny: when you're ready to throw most of it overboard. All
+right?"
+
+He had had to say all right. It was the last time he had ever seen his
+uncle, but those weren't the last words Averill Jones had spoken to him,
+for the old man had added as he got up to go: "Don't forget, son. Don't
+let them pull the wool over your eyes. History is propaganda--from a
+winner's point of view. If a side lost the war and got stamped on, you
+never see the war from its point of view. If an idea got out of favor
+and stamped on, the idea is ridiculed. Don't forget it, son. If you
+believe something, if you _know_ it's right, have faith in it and don't
+give a mind what people say. Promise?"
+
+Danny, his eyes stinging with tears because somehow he could sense he
+would never see Uncle Averill again, had said that he promised.
+
+"... to my nephew, Danny Jones," the lawyer was reading. "So, you see,
+you'll have to go right down there and look the thing over. Naturally,
+I'll have to leave the house while you do so and I won't be able to
+return until you tell me I can--"
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Weren't you listening?"
+
+"I guess I was thinking about my uncle."
+
+"Well, the clause says you're to examine the machine alone, with no one
+else in the house. It's perfectly legal. If that's what your uncle
+wanted, that's what he'll get. Are you all set?"
+
+Danny nodded and Tartalion shook his hand solemnly, then left the room.
+Danny heard the lawyer's footsteps receding, heard the front door open
+and close, heard a car engine start. Then, slowly, he walked through the
+living room of his dead uncle's house and across the long, narrow
+kitchen and to the basement stairs. His hands were very dry and he felt
+his heart thudding. He was nervous, which surprised him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But why? he thought, why should it surprise me? All my life, Uncle
+Averill's basement has been a mystery. Let's face it, Danny-boy, you
+haven't exactly had an adventurous life. Maybe Uncle Averill was the
+biggest adventure in it, with his secret machine and strange
+disappearances. And maybe Uncle Averill did a good selling job when you
+were small, because that machine means mystery to you. It's probably not
+much more than a better mousetrap, but you want to believe it is, don't
+you? And you're nervous because the way Uncle Averill kept you and
+anyone else away from his basement when you were a kid makes it a kind
+of frightening place, even now.
+
+He opened the basement door with a key which the lawyer had given him.
+Beyond the door were five steps and another door--this one of metal. It
+had had a time lock in the old days, Danny remembered, but the lock was
+gone now. The metal door swung ponderously, like the door to a bank
+vault, and then Danny was on the other side. It was dark down there, but
+faint light seeped in through small high windows and in a few moments
+Danny's eyes grew accustomed to the gloom.
+
+The basement was empty except for what looked like a big old steamer
+trunk in the center of the dusty cement floor.
+
+Danny was disappointed. He had childhood visions of an intricate maze
+of machinery cluttering up every available square foot of basement
+space, but now he knew that whatever it was which had taken up so much
+of Uncle Averill's time could fit in the odd-looking steamer trunk in
+the center of the floor and thus wasn't too much bigger than a good-size
+TV set. He walked slowly to the trunk and stood for a few moments over
+the lid. It was an ancient-looking steamer: Uncle Averill must have
+owned it since his own youth. Still, just a plain trunk.
+
+Danny was in no hurry to open the lid, which did not seem to be locked.
+For a few moments, at least, he could shield himself from further
+disappointment--because now he had a hunch that Uncle Averill's machine
+was going to be a first-class dud. Maybe, he thought gloomily, Uncle
+Averill had simply not liked to be with people and had used the ruse of
+a bank-vault door and an empty steamer trunk to achieve privacy whenever
+he felt the need for it.
+
+Remembering the history class, Danny decided that--after all--sometimes
+that wasn't a bad idea. Finally, he called himself a fool for waiting
+and threw up the trunk-lid.
+
+A small case was all he saw inside, although the interior of the trunk
+was larger than he had expected. A man could probably curl up in there
+quite comfortably. But the case--the case looked exactly like it ought
+to house a tape-recorder.
+
+Danny reached in and hauled out the case. It was heavy, about as heavy
+as a tape-recorder ought to be. Danny placed it down on the floor and
+opened it.
+
+What he saw was a battery-powered tape-recorder. His disappointment
+increased: Uncle Averill had left a message for him, that was all.
+Dutifully, however, he set the spools and snapped on the switch.
+
+A voice from yesterday--Uncle Averill's voice--spoke to him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Hallo, Danny," it said. "The way the years roll by, I forget exactly
+how old you are, boy. Seventeen? Eighteen? Twenty? Well, it doesn't
+matter--if you still believe. If you have faith. Faith in what? Maybe
+now you're old enough to know. I mean faith in--not having faith. That
+is, faith in not taking faithfully all the silly items of knowledge
+they try to cram down your throat in school. See what I mean? Remember
+what I always said about history, Danny: you get propaganda, is all,
+from the winning side. If you got faith enough in yourself, Danny, faith
+enough not to believe everything the history books tell you, that's the
+kind of faith I mean. Because such a faith gave me the most interesting
+life a man ever lived, make no mistake about that.
+
+"I'm dead, Danny. Yep, old Uncle Averill is dead. Because this
+tape-recorder won't be left you in my will until I am dead. But, no
+regrets, boy. I had a great life. How great--nobody knows. Only you,
+you're about to find out. Do you believe? Do you believe the way I have
+in mind? Make no mistake about it now, son. If you don't believe, you
+might as well burn these spools and go home."
+
+Danny considered. He remembered what had happened in his history class.
+Wasn't that the sort of faith Uncle Averill had in mind? Faith not to
+believe in historical fairy tales? Faith to doubt when one ought to
+doubt? Faith to be skeptical....
+
+"Good," said the voice from the past. "Then you're still here. Look in
+front of you, Danny-boy. The trunk. The old steamer. Know what it is?"
+
+"No," Danny said, then clamped a hand over his mouth. For a moment he
+had actually believed he was talking to the dead man.
+
+"It's a time machine," said his Uncle's voice.
+
+There was a silence. The tape went on winding. For a moment, Danny
+thought that was all. Then the voice continued: "No, your old
+grand-uncle isn't nuts, Danny. It's a time machine. I know it's a time
+machine because I used it all my life. You expected some kind of
+complicated gadget down here, I know. I made everybody think it was a
+gadget. Going down to your basement and tinkering with a gadget is fine
+in our culture. Hell's fire, boy, it's approved behavior. But locking a
+bank-vault door behind you and curling up in a steamer trunk, that isn't
+approved. Now, is it?
+
+"I'll tell you about this here time machine, sonny. It isn't a machine
+at all, in the strict sense of the word. You can see that. It's
+just--well, an empty box. But it works, and what else ought a fellow to
+care about.
+
+"Funny how I got it. I was eighteen or twenty, maybe. And my
+Grand-uncle Daniel gave it to me. Daniel, get me. Daniel to Averill to
+Daniel. So when you have a grand-nephew, see that his name's Averill,
+understand? Keep it going, Danny. Because this trunk is old. A lot older
+than you think.
+
+"And you can travel through time in it. Don't look at me like that, I
+know what you're thinking. There isn't any such thing as time travel. In
+the strict sense of the word, it's impossible. You can't resurrect the
+past or peek into the unborn future. Well, I don't know about the
+future, but I do know about the past. But you got to have faith, you got
+to be a kid at heart, Danny. You got to have this dream, see?
+
+"Because you don't travel anywhere. But your mind does, and it's like
+you wake up in somebody else's body, drawn to him like a magnet,
+somebody else--some_when_ else. Your body stays right here, you see. In
+the trunk. In what they called suspended animation. But you--the real
+you, the you that knows how to dream and to believe--you go back.
+
+"Don't make the mistake I made at first. It's no dream in the usual
+sense of the word. It's real, Danny. You're somebody else back there,
+all right, but if he gets hurt, you get hurt. If he dies--taps for Danny
+Jones! You get me?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The dead man's voice chuckled. "But don't think this means automatically
+you'll be able to travel through time. Because you got to have the
+proper attitude. You've got to believe in yourself, and not in all the
+historical fictions they give you. Now do you understand? If you're
+skeptical enough and if at the same time you like to dream
+enough--that's all it takes. Want to try it?"
+
+Suddenly the voice was gone. That was all there was and at first Danny
+could not believe it. A sense of bitter disappointment enveloped
+him--not because Uncle Averill had left him nothing but an old steamer
+trunk but because Uncle Averill had been, to say the least, off his
+rocker.
+
+The fabulous machine in the basement was--nothing.
+
+Just a steamer trunk and an incredible story about time-traveling.
+
+Danny sighed and began to walk back toward the cellar stairs. He paused.
+He turned around uncertainly and looked at the trunk. After all, he had
+promised; at least he'd promised himself that he'd carry out his
+peculiar uncle's wishes. Besides, he'd come all the way down here from
+Whitney College and he ought to at least try the machine.
+
+But there wasn't any machine.
+
+Try the trunk then? There was nothing to try except curling up in it and
+maybe closing the lid. Uncle Averill was a practical joker, too. It
+might be just like Uncle Averill to have the lid snap shut and lock
+automatically so Danny would have to pound his knuckles black and blue
+until the lawyer heard and came for him.
+
+You see, sonny? would be Uncle Averill's point. You believed me, and you
+should have known better.
+
+Danny cursed himself and returned to the trunk. He gazed down at the
+yawning interior for a few seconds, then put first one foot, then the
+other over the side. He sat down and stared at a peeling blue-paper
+liner. He rolled over and curled up. The bottom of the trunk was a good
+fit. He reached up and found a rope dangling down toward him. He pulled
+the lid down, smiling at his own credulity, and was engulfed in total
+darkness.
+
+But it would be wonderful, he found himself thinking. It would be the
+most wonderful thing in the world, to be able to travel through time and
+see for yourself what really had happened in all the world's colorful
+ages and to take part in the wildest, proudest adventures of mankind.
+
+He thought, I want to believe. It would be so wonderful to believe.
+
+He also thought about his history class. He did not know it, but his
+history class was very important. It was crucial. Everything depended on
+his history class. Because he doubted. He did not want to take Columbus'
+bravery and intelligence for granted. There were no surviving documents,
+so why should he?
+
+Maybe Columbus was a third-rater!
+
+Maybe--at least you didn't have to worship him as a hero just because he
+happened to discover ...
+
+Now, what did he discover?
+
+In absolute darkness and a ringing in the ears and far away a dim
+glowing light and larger and brighter and the whirling whirling spinning
+flashing I don't believe but strangely somehow I have faith, faith in
+myself, buzzing, humming, glowing ...
+
+The world exploded.
+
+There was a great deal of laughter in the tavern.
+
+At first he thought the laughter was directed at him. Giddily, he raised
+his head. He saw raw wood rafters, a leaded glass window, a stained and
+greasy wall, heavy wood-plank tables with heavy chairs and a
+barbarous-looking crew drinking from heavy clay mugs. One of the mugs
+was in front of him and he raised it to his lips without thinking.
+
+It was ale, the strongest ale he had ever tasted. He got it down somehow
+without gagging. The laughter came again, rolling over him like a wave.
+A serving girl scurried by, skirts flashing, a rough tray of clay mugs
+balanced expertly on one hand. A man with a sword dangling at his side
+staggered to his feet drunkenly and clawed at the girl, but she shoved
+him back into his seat and kept walking.
+
+The third wave of laughter rolled and then there was a brief silence.
+
+"Drink too much, Martin Pinzon?" Danny's companion at the long
+board-table asked. He was an evil-looking old man with a patch over one
+eye and a small white spade-shaped beard and unshaven cheeks.
+
+"Not me," Danny said, amazed because the language was unfamiliar to him
+yet he could both understand and speak it. "What's so funny?" he asked.
+"Why's everyone laughing?"
+
+The old man's hand slapped his back and the mouth parted to show ugly
+blackened teeth and the old man laughed so hard spittle spotted his
+beard. "As if you didn't know," he managed to say. "As if you didn't
+know, Martin Pinzon. It's that weak-minded sailor again, the one who
+claims to have a charter for three caravels from the Queen herself.
+Drunk as Bacchus and there's his pretty little daughter trying to get
+him to come home again. I tell you, Martin Pinzon, if he isn't ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But now Danny wasn't listening. He looked around the tavern until he saw
+the butt of all the laughter. Slowly, drawn irresistibly, Martin
+Pinzon--or Danny Jones--got up and walked over there.
+
+The man was drunk as Bacchus, all right. He was a man perhaps somewhat
+taller than average. He had a large head with an arrogant beak of a nose
+dominating the face, but the mouth was weak and irresolute. He stared
+drunkenly at a beautiful girl who could not have been more than
+seventeen.
+
+The girl was saying, "Please, papa. Come back to the hotel with me.
+Papa, don't you realize you're sailing tomorrow?"
+
+"Gowananlemebe," the man mumbled.
+
+"Papa. Please. The Queen's charter--"
+
+"I was drunk when I took it and drunk when I examined those three
+stinking caravels and--" he leaned forward as if to speak in deepest
+confidence, but his drunken voice was still very loud--"and drunk when I
+said the world was round. I--"
+
+"You hear that?" someone cried. "Old Chris was drunk when he said the
+world was round!"
+
+"He must a' been!" someone else shouted. Everyone laughed.
+
+"Come on, papa," the girl pleaded. She wore a shawl over her dress and
+another shawl on her head. Her blonde hair barely peeked out, and she
+was beautiful. She tried to drag her father to his feet by one arm, but
+he was too heavy for her.
+
+She looked around the room defiantly as the laughter surged again.
+"Brave men!" she mocked. "A bunch of stay-at-homes. Won't somebody help
+me? Papa sails tomorrow."
+
+"Papa sails tomorrow," said someone, miming her desperate tones. "Didn't
+you know that papa sails tomorrow?"
+
+"Not sailing anyplace at all," the father mumbled. "World isn't round.
+Drunk. Think I want to fall over the edge? Think I--"
+
+"Oh, papa," moaned the girl. "Won't someone help me to--" And she tugged
+again at the man's arm--"to get him to bed."
+
+A big man nearby boomed, "I'll help you t'bed, me lass, but it won't be
+with your old father. Eh, mates?" he cried, and the tavern echoed with
+laughter. The big man got up and went over to the girl. "Now, listen,
+lass," he said, taking hold of her arm. "Why don't you forget this
+drunken slob of a father and--"
+
+Crack! Her hand blurred at his cheek, struck it like a pistol shot. The
+big man blinked his eyes and grinned. "So you have spirit, do you? Well,
+it's more than I can say for that father of yours, too yellow and too
+drunk to carry out the Queen of Castile's bid--"
+
+The hand flashed out again but this time the big man caught it in one of
+his own and twisted sideways against the girl, forcing her back against
+the table's edge. "I like my girls to struggle," he said, and the girl's
+face went white as she suddenly let herself go limp in his arms.
+
+The man grinned. "Oh I like 'em limp, me lass. When they're pretty as a
+rose, like you, who's to care?"
+
+"Papa!" the girl screamed. The big man's face hovered over hers,
+blotting out the oil-lamp lights, the thick lips all but slavering....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Just a minute, man!" Danny cried, striding boldly to them. Hardly
+pausing in his efforts to kiss the again struggling girl, the big man
+swatted back with one enormous arm and sent Danny reeling. Whoever he
+was, he was a popular figure. The laughter was still louder now.
+Everyone was having a great time, at Danny's expense now.
+
+Danny crashed into a chair, upending it. A bowl of soup came crashing
+down, the heavy bowl splintering, the hot contents scalding him. He
+stood up and heard the girl scream. Instinctively, he grasped two legs
+of the heavy chair and hefted it. Then he sprinted back across the room.
+
+"Behind you, Pietro!" a voice cried, and at the last moment the big man
+whirled and faced Danny, then lunged to one side, taking the girl with
+him.
+
+Danny couldn't check his arms, which had carried the heavy chair
+overhead. It came down with a crash against the edge of the big plank
+table. The chair shattered in Danny's arms. One leg flew up and struck
+the big man in the face, though, bringing blood just below the cheek
+bone. He bellowed in surprise and pain and came lumbering toward Danny.
+
+Danny was aware of the girl cowering to one side, aware that another of
+the chair's legs was still grasped in his right hand. He was but a boy,
+he found himself thinking quickly, desperate. If the giant grabbed him,
+grabbed him just once, the fight would be over. The man was twice his
+size, twice his weight. Yet he had to do something to help the girl....
+
+The giant came at him. The big arms lifted over the heavy, brutal
+face.... And Danny drove under them with the chair-leg, jabbing the tip
+of it against the man's enormous middle. Pietro--for such was the man's
+name--sagged a few inches, the breath rushing, heavy with garlic, from
+his mouth. But still, he got his great hands about Danny's throat and
+began to squeeze.
+
+Danny saw the wood rafters, the window, a bargirl standing, mouth open,
+watching them, the drunken man and his daughter, then a blurry, watery
+confusion as his eyes went dim. He was conscious of swinging the club,
+of striking something, of extending the club out as far as it would go
+and then slamming it back toward himself, striking something which he
+hoped was Pietro's head. He felt his mouth going slack and wondered if
+his tongue were hanging out. Exerting all his strength he struck numbly,
+mechanically, desperately with the chair-leg.
+
+And slowly, the constriction left his throat. Something struck against
+his middle, almost knocking him down. Something pushed against his legs,
+backing him against the table. He looked down. His eyes were watery, his
+throat burning. The giant Pietro lay, breathing stertorously, at his
+feet.
+
+A small hand grabbed his. "Father will come now," a voice said. "I
+don't--don't even know who you are, but I want to thank you. I thank you
+for myself and the Queen, and God, senor. You better come quickly, with
+us. Does it hurt much?"
+
+Danny tried to talk. His voice rasped in his throat. The girl squeezed
+his hand and together with her and the drunken man who was her father,
+he left the tavern. The giant Pietro was just getting up and shaking his
+fist at them slowly....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a small top-floor room in an old waterfront building in the
+Spanish port of Palos. Or, Danny corrected himself, the Castillian port
+of Palos. Because, in this year of our Lord 1492, Spain had barely
+become a unified country.
+
+"Are you feeling better, Martin Pinzon?" the beautiful girl asked him.
+
+He had given the name he had heard, Martin Pinzon, as his own. The room
+was very hot. The August night outside was hot too and sultry and
+starless. The girl's father was resting now, breathing unevenly. The
+girl's name was Nina. One of the small caravels in her father's
+three-ship fleet was named after her. Her full name was Nina Columbus.
+
+Nina brought another wet cloth and covered Danny's swollen throat with
+it. "Does it hurt much?" she said, and, for the tenth time, "we have no
+money to thank you with, senor."
+
+"Any man would have--"
+
+"But you were the only one. The only--never mind. Martin, listen. I have
+no right to trouble you, but ... it's father. Tomorrow is the second day
+of August, you see, and it is all over Palos that tomorrow he sails with
+the Queen's charter...."
+
+"Then if you're worrying about that big man, Pietro, you can forget it.
+If you're sailing, I mean."
+
+"That's just it," Nina said desperately. "Father doesn't want to sail.
+Martin, tell me, do you believe the world is round?"
+
+Danny nodded very soberly. "Yes, Nina," he told her softly. "The world
+is round. I believe it."
+
+"My father doesn't! Funny, isn't it, Martin?" she said in a voice which
+told him she did not think it was funny at all. "All Spain--and Genoa
+too--think that tomorrow morning my father, Christopher Columbus, will
+journey to the unexplored west confident that he will arrive, after a
+long voyage, in the East--when really my father, this same Christopher
+Columbus, lies here in a drunken stupor because he lacks the courage to
+face his convictions and ... oh, Martin!" Her voice broke, her pretty
+face crumpled. She sobbed into her hands. Gently, Danny stroked her
+back.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"There now, take it easy," he said. "Your father will sail. I know he'll
+sail. Do you believe the world to be round, little Nina?"
+
+"Yes. Oh yes, yes, yes!"
+
+"He will sail. He will prove it and be famous. I know he will."
+
+"Oh, Martin. You sound so sure of yourself. I wish I could ..."
+
+"Nina, listen. Your father will sail."
+
+"You'll help us you mean?"
+
+"Yes. All right, I'll help you. Now, get some sleep if you want to wake
+up and say goodbye to him in the morning. Because I'll be getting him up
+before the sun to--"
+
+"Are you a sailing man too? Are you going with him?"
+
+"Well ..."
+
+"Wait! Martin, I remember you now. Martin Pinzon. At the meeting of the
+organization to prove the Earth's round shape. You! You were there. And
+once, once when he was not drunk, father said that a Don Pinzon would
+command one of our three ships, the Nina it was, the caravel which
+bears my name. Are you this Don Pinzon?"
+
+Slowly, Danny nodded. He remembered his history now. The Nina _had_ been
+commanded by one Don Pinzon, Don Martin Pinzon! And he was now this
+Martin Pinzon, he, Danny Jones. Which meant he was going with Columbus
+to discover a new world! A nineteen-year-old American youth going to
+witness the single most important event in American history....
+
+"Yes," Danny said slowly, "I am Don Pinzon."
+
+"But--but you're so young!"
+
+Danny shrugged. "I have seen more of the world than you would believe,
+Nina."
+
+"The Western Sea? You have been out on the Western Sea, as far as the
+Canary Islands, perhaps?" she asked in an awed voice.
+
+"I know the Western Sea," he said. "Trust me."
+
+She came very close. She looked long in his eyes. "I trust you, Martin.
+Oh yes, I trust you. Listen, Martin. I'm going. I'm going with you. I
+have to go with you."
+
+"But a girl--"
+
+"He is my father. I love him, Martin. He needs me. Martin, don't try to
+stop me. I want you to help me aboard, to see that he ... oh, Martin,
+you'll have so much to do. Because the rest of our crew--some of them
+being hired even now by the three caravel pursers--will be a crew of
+cut-throats and ne'er-do-wells embarking into the unknown because they
+have utterly nothing to lose. Father needs you because the others won't
+care."
+
+"The three caravels will sail west," Danny told her. "Believe me,
+they'll sail west. Now, get some sleep."
+
+Her face was still very close. Her eyes filled with tears, but they were
+not tears of sadness. She took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him
+softly on the lips. She smiled at him, her own lips trembling.
+
+"Martin," she said.
+
+His arms moved. They went around her, drew the softness of her close.
+She murmured something, but he did not hear it. His lips found hers a
+second time, fiercely. His hands her shoulder, her throat, her ...
+
+"Flat," Columbus mumbled. "Flat. Abs'lutely flat. The Earth is--flat as
+a pancake...."
+
+"Oh, Martin!" Nina cried.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was raining in the morning. A hard, driving rain, pelting down on the
+seaport of Palos. The three caravels floated side by side in the little
+harbor and a large, derisive crowd had gathered. The crowd erupted into
+noisy laughter when Columbus and his little party appeared on foot.
+
+"I need a drink," Columbus whispered. "I can't go through with it."
+
+"Father," Nina said. "We're with you. I'm here. Martin is here."
+
+"I can't go--"
+
+"You've got to go through with it! For yourself and for the world. Now,
+stand straight, father. They're looking at you. They're all looking at
+you."
+
+Columbus, thought Danny. The intrepid voyager who had discovered a new
+world! He smiled grimly. Columbus, the history books should have said,
+the drunken sot who didn't even have the courage to face his own
+convictions.
+
+They walked ahead through the ridiculing crowd. Danny's throat was still
+sore. He was not frightened, though. He possibly was the only man in the
+crew who was not frightened. The others didn't care what their
+destination was, true: but they wanted to reach it alive. Danny knew the
+journey would end in success. The end of the journey meant nothing to
+him. It was written in history. It was ...
+
+Unless, he suddenly found himself thinking, I came back here to write
+it. He grinned at his own bravado. What would they have said in freshman
+psych--that was practically paranoid thinking. As if Danny Jones,
+Whitney College, Virginia, U.S.A., could have anything to do with the
+success or failure of Columbus' journey.
+
+They reached the small skiff that would take them out to the tiny fleet
+of caravels. The crowd hooted and jeered.
+
+"... going to drop off the edge of the world, Columbus."
+
+"If the monsters don't get you first."
+
+"Or the storms and whirlpools."
+
+Columbus gripped Nina's hand. Martin-Danny took his other arm firmly and
+steered him toward the prow of the skiff. "Easy now, skipper," Danny
+said.
+
+"I can't--"
+
+"There's wine on the Santa Maria," Danny whispered. "Much wine--to make
+you forget. Come on!"
+
+"And I'm going, father," Nina said. "Whether you go or not."
+
+"You!" Columbus gasped. "A girl. You, going--"
+
+"With Martin Pinzon. If--if my own father can't look after me, then
+Martin can."
+
+"But you--" Danny began.
+
+"Be quiet, please," she whispered as Columbus climbed stiffly into the
+skiff. "It may be the only way, Martin. He--he loves me. I guess I'm the
+only thing he cares about. If he knows I'm going."
+
+"To the Santa Maria!" Columbus told the rowers as Danny and Nina got
+into the skiff.
+
+"To the New World!" cried Danny melodramatically.
+
+"What did you say?" Nina asked him.
+
+His face colored. "I mean, to the Indies! To the Indies!"
+
+The skiff bobbed out across the harbor toward the three waiting
+caravels. Departure time had arrived.
+
+Two hours later, they were underway.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The sea was calm as glass, green as emerald. The three caravels, after a
+journey of several days, had reached the Canary Islands where additional
+provisions and fresh water were to be had.
+
+"This," said Columbus, waving his arms to take in the chain of islands.
+"This is as far as a mere man has a right to go. There is nothing
+further, can't you see? Can't you?"
+
+He was sober. Danny had come over in a skiff from the Nina to see that
+he remained sober at least for the loading and the departure. It was
+as if he, Danny, was going to preserve Columbus' name for
+history--single-handed if necessary.
+
+"We will not go on," Columbus said. "We're going back. The only way to
+the Indies is around the Cape of Storms, around Africa. I tell you--"
+
+"That's enough, father," Nina said. "We ..."
+
+"I'm in command here," Columbus told them. It surprised Danny. Usually,
+the drunken sailor was not so self-assertive. Then it occurred to Danny
+that it wasn't merely self-assertiveness: it was fear.
+
+Danny called over the mate, a one-legged man named Juan, who walked with
+a jaunty stride despite his peg leg. "You take orders from Columbus?"
+Danny said. "Would you take orders from me?"
+
+Juan shook his head, smiling. "You command aboard the Nina only, Martin
+Pinzon. I heard what the Captain said. If he wants to go back and give
+up this fool scheme, it's all right with me. And you know the rest of
+the crew will say the same."
+
+Nina looked at Danny hopelessly. She said, "Then, then it's no use?"
+
+Danny whispered fiercely, "Your father loves you very much?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"And doesn't want to see anything happen to you?"
+
+"But--"
+
+"And believes the world is flat and if you sail far enough west you'll
+fall off?"
+
+"But I--"
+
+"Then you're coming with me aboard the Nina!"
+
+Columbus gasped, "What did you say?"
+
+"She's coming with me, on the Nina. If you don't want to find the
+western route to the Indies, we will. Right, Nina?" he said, taking her
+hand and moving to where the rope-ladder dangled over the side of the
+Santa Maria to the skiff below.
+
+"Don't take her from this deck," Columbus ordered.
+
+Danny ignored him. "Don Juan!" cried Columbus, and the peg-leg came
+toward Danny.
+
+"I'm sorry, Don Martin," he said, "but--"
+
+Still holding Nina's hand, Martin stiff-armed him out of the way and ran
+for the side. Someone jerked the rope-ladder out of reach and someone
+else leaped on Martin. For, he was Martin now, Martin Pinzon. His own
+identity seemed submerged far below the surface, as if somehow he could
+look on all this without risking anything. He knew that he was merely a
+defense mechanism, to ward off fear: for, it wasn't true. If Martin
+Pinzon were hurt, _he_ would be hurt.
+
+He hurled the man from his back. Nina screamed as a cutlass flashed in
+the sun. Martin-Danny ducked, felt the blade whizz by overhead.
+
+"Jump!" Martin-Danny cried.
+
+"But I can't swim!"
+
+"I can. I'll save you." It was Danny again, completely Danny. He felt
+himself arise to the surface, submerging Martin Pinzon. Because the
+Spaniard probably couldn't swim at all, and if Danny made promises, it
+was Danny who must fulfill them.
+
+He squeezed Nina's hand. He went up on the side--and over. The water
+seemed a very long way down. They hit it finally with a great splash.
+
+Down they went and down, into the warm murky green depths. Down--and
+finally up. Danny's head broke surface. He was only yards from the
+skiff. He had never let go of Nina's hand, but now he did, getting a
+lifeguard's hold on her. He struck out for the skiff.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Fifteen minutes later, they were aboard the Nina. "I command here,"
+Danny told the crew. "Is that correct?"
+
+"Aye, sir," said Don Hernan, the mate.
+
+"Even if Columbus tells you different?"
+
+"Columbus?" spat Don Hernan. "That drunkard is in command of the Santa
+Maria, not the Nina. We follow Martin Pinzon here."
+
+"Even if I give one set of orders and Columbus another?"
+
+"Even then, my commander. Yes."
+
+"Then we're sailing west," Danny cried. "Up anchor! Hurry."
+
+"But I--" Nina began.
+
+"Don't you see? He thinks I'm abducting you. Or he thinks I'm sailing
+west with you to certain death. He will follow with the Santa Maria and
+the Pinta, trying to rescue you. And we'll reach the Indies. Columbus
+will sail across the Western Sea to save his daughter, but what's the
+difference _why_ he'll sail. The important thing is, Queen Isabella gave
+him the charter and the caravels and with them he's making history. You
+see?"
+
+"I ... I think so," Nina said doubtfully.
+
+A heady wind sprang up. The square-rigged sails billowed. The Nina began
+to surge forward--into the unknown West.
+
+Tackle creaked aboard the nearby Santa Maria and Pinta. The two other
+caravels came in pursuit. But they won't catch us, Martin knew. They
+won't catch us until we reach--Hispaniola. And then, pursuit will be no
+more. Then, it will no longer matter and we'll all be heroes....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Which is the way it turned out--almost.
+
+The Santa Maria and Pinta pursued all through August and September and
+into October, but the Nina kept its slim lead. The ships were never out
+of sight of one another and once or twice Columbus even hailed them,
+imploring them to return to Spain with him. When they ignored him, his
+deep voice boomed to his own crew and the crew of the Pinta: "Then sail
+on, sail on!" It was these words, Danny knew, that history would record.
+Not the others.
+
+One morning in October, he awoke with a start. Something had disturbed
+his sleep--something ...
+
+"Good morning, captain," a voice said.
+
+He looked up. It was a giant of a man, with a hard face and
+brutal-looking eyes. He knew that face. Pietro! The giant of the tavern.
+
+"But you--"
+
+"I was aboard all the time, my captain," Pietro said. "An auxiliary
+rower. You never knew." He said nothing else. He lunged at Martin's
+bunk--for I'm Martin again, Danny thought--a knife gleaming in his big
+hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Martin-Danny sat up, bringing the covers with him, hurling them like a
+cloak at Pietro. The giant's knife-hand caught in the covers and Danny
+swung to his feet, shoving the big man. Pietro stumbled into the bunk,
+then lashed around quickly, unexpectedly, the knife loose again. Danny
+felt it grating across his ribs hotly, searingly. He staggered and
+almost fell, but somehow made it to the door and on deck. He needed
+room. Facing that knife in the close confines of the cabin, he was a
+dead man and knew it.
+
+He hit the stairs and headed for the deck. He reached the door--tugged.
+It held fast. He heard Pietro's laughter, then threw himself to one
+side. The knife thudded into the wood alongside Danny's shoulder.
+
+Then the door came open, throwing him back. He stumbled, regained his
+balance, plunged outside. With a roar, Pietro followed him, knife again
+in hand.
+
+Danny backed away slowly. Only a few crew members were on deck now, and
+a watch high up in the crow's nest. The watch was crying in an
+almost-delirious voice: "Land, land! Land ho-oo!" But Martin-Danny
+hardly heard the words. Pietro came at him--
+
+Suddenly Don Hernan was in front of him. Don Hernan's hand nipped up and
+then down and a knife arced toward Danny. He caught it by the haft,
+swung to face the giant. But, he thought, I don't know how to use a
+knife. I'm Danny Jones, I ...
+
+Pietro leaped, the knife down, held loosely at his side, underhanded,
+ready to slash and rip. Danny sidestepped and Pietro went by in a rush.
+Danny waited.
+
+Pietro came back carefully this time, crouching, balanced easily on the
+balls of his feet. For all his size, he fought with the grace of a
+dancer.
+
+Danny felt warm wetness where the blood was seeping from his ribs. Feet
+pounded as more of the crew came on deck in response to the watch's
+delirious words. Instead of crowding at the prow, though, they formed a
+circle around Danny and Pietro. Danny thought: But I'm the captain. The
+captain. They ought to help me ... they ... He knew though that they
+would not. They were a fierce, proud people and the law of single combat
+would apply even to the captain who had piloted them across an unknown
+ocean.
+
+Pietro came by, attempting to slash with his knife from outside. Danny
+moved quickly--not quick enough. The knife point caught his arm this
+time. He felt his hand go numb. His own knife clattered to the deck as
+blood oozed from his biceps.
+
+Once more Pietro charged him. Weaponless, Danny waited. Pietro was
+laughing, sure of himself--
+
+Careless.
+
+Danny slipped aside as Pietro brought the knife around in a wicked
+swipe. He spun with it and when he came around Danny was waiting for
+him. He drove his left fist into the great belly and his right to the
+big, bearded jaw. Pietro slumped, disbelief in his eyes. He swung the
+knife again but only succeeded in wrapping his giant arm around Danny.
+He bent his head, shook it to clear it of the sting of Danny's blows.
+And Danny rabbit-punched him.
+
+Pietro went down heavily and someone shouted. "The face! Kick him in the
+face!"
+
+Wearily, Danny shook his head. He went with Nina to the rail and saw the
+green palm-fringed island of the New World. Nina smiled at him, then
+ripped something from what she was wearing and began to bandage his
+ribs, his arm.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They heard a splash. Danny looked around, saw Don Hernan and a member of
+the crew gazing serenely down. Pietro was down there, where they had
+tossed him. For a while the body floated, then the limbs splashed wildly
+as Pietro regained consciousness. He drifted back away from the ship. He
+went under, and came up. He went under again, and stayed under....
+
+"The Indies," Nina said.
+
+"The Indies," Danny said. He did not make the distinction between east
+and west. They must learn for themselves.
+
+The Pinta and the Santa Maria came up alongside. All thoughts of pursuit
+were gone. Columbus waved. He was very close now on the deck of the
+Santa Maria. There was something in his face, something changed.
+Columbus was a new man now. He had been shamed. He had followed his
+daughter and Martin Pinzon across an unknown ocean and he was changed
+now. Somehow, Danny knew he could now make voyages on his own.
+
+"Martin," Nina whispered. "They may say it was father. But it was you.
+I'll know in my heart, it was you."
+
+Danny nodded. She put her arm around his shoulder, and kissed him. He
+liked this slim girl--he liked her immensely, and it wasn't right. She
+wasn't his, not really. She was Martin Pinzon's. He let the Spaniard
+come to the surface, willed his own mind back and down and away. She's
+all yours, Pinzon, he told the other mind in his body. She--and this
+world. I'm a--stranger here.
+
+But once more he kissed Nina, fiercely, with passion and longing.
+
+"Goodbye, my darling," he said.
+
+"Goodbye! What--"
+
+He let Martin Pinzon take it from there. "Hello," said Martin Pinzon.
+"I mean, hello forever, darling."
+
+She laughed. "Goodbye to your bachelorhood, you mean."
+
+"Yes," he said. "Yes."
+
+But it was Martin Pinzon talking now. Completely Martin Pinzon.
+
+He was back in his grand-uncle's basement. He was in the trunk and he
+felt stiff. Mostly, his right arm and the right ribs felt stiff. He felt
+his shirt. It was caked with blood.
+
+Proof, he thought. If I needed proof. What happened to Pinzon happened
+to me.
+
+He stood up. He felt weak, but knew he would be all right. He knew about
+Columbus now. At first, a weak drunkard. But after the first voyage,
+thanks to Martin Pinzon and Nina, an intrepid voyager. For history said
+Columbus would make four voyages to the New World--and four he would
+make.
+
+Danny went outside, to where the lawyer was waiting for him. The trunk
+was Danny's now, the time trunk. And he would use it again, often. He
+knew that now, and it was wrong to deflate a dream.
+
+Columbus was a hero. He would never say otherwise again.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ October 1956.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+    typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of My Shipmate--Columbus, by Stephen Wilder
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SHIPMATE--COLUMBUS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 27019.txt or 27019.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/0/1/27019/
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
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