at the gates of La Rabida to beg bread for his son. It was the acme of
the discoverer's destiny, the realization of his dream of glory, the
well-earned recompense of years of persevering endeavor.

The news of the discovery created universal enthusiasm. When it was
announced that a second expedition was being organized there was no
need of a royal schedule of remission of punishment to criminals to
obtain crews. The Admiral's residence was besieged all day long by the
hidalgos[2] who were anxious to share with him the expected glories
and riches. The cessation of hostilities in Granada had left thousands
of knights, whose only patrimony was their sword, without
occupation--men with iron muscles, inured to hardship and danger,
eager for adventure and conquest.

Then there were the monks and priests, whose religious zeal was
stimulated by the prospect of converting to Christianity the benighted
inhabitants of unknown realms; there were ruined traders, who hoped to
mend their fortunes with the gold to be had, as they thought, for
picking it up; finally, there were the protégés of royalty and of
influential persons at court, who aspired to lucrative places in the
new territories; in short, the Admiral counted among the fifteen
hundred companions of his second expedition individuals of the bluest
blood in Spain.

As for the mariners, men-at-arms, mechanics, attendants, and servants,
they were mostly greedy, vicious, ungovernable, and turbulent
adventurers.[3]

The confiscated property of the Jews, supplemented by a loan and some
extra duties on articles of consumption, provided the funds for the