On the 12th of February they had made such progress as led them to hope
they should soon see land. The wind now came on to blow violently; on
the following evening there were three flashes of lightning in the
north-east, from which signs Columbus predicted an approaching tempest.

It soon burst upon them with frightful violence. Their small and crazy
vessels were little fitted for the wild storms of the Atlantic; all
night they were obliged to scud under bare poles, at the mercy of the
elements; as the morning dawned there was a transient pause and they
made a little sail, but the wind rose with redoubled fury from the south
and increased in the night, threatening each moment to overwhelm them or
dash them to pieces.

The admiral made signal-lights for the Pinta to keep in company, but
she was separated by the violence of the storm, and her lights gleamed
more and more distant till they ceased entirely.

When the day dawned the sea presented a frightful waste of wild and
broken waves. Columbus looked round anxiously for the Pinta, but she was
nowhere to be seen, and he became apprehensive that Pinzon had borne
away for Spain, that he might reach it before him, and by giving the
first account of his discoveries, deprive him of his fame.

Through a dreary day the helpless bark was driven along by the tempest.

Seeing all human skill baffled and confounded, Columbus endeavoured to
propitiate heaven by solemn vows, and various private vows were made by
the seamen. The heavens, however, seemed deaf to their vows: the storm
grew still more furious, and every one gave himself up for lost.