flew from the southwest rather than the exact west, suggested to
Columbus that land probably lay nearer in that direction; and Columbus,
to please him, changed his course. It is interesting to speculate on
what might have happened had Pinzon not interfered, for the fleet, by
continuing due west, would have shortly entered the Gulf Stream, and
this strong current would surely have borne them northward to a landing
on the coast of the future United States. But this was not to be. On
Pinzon's advice the rudders were set for the southwest, and nothing
happened for several days except that same passing of birds. On October
11 a fresh green branch floated by; and Columbus, after dark had fallen,
declared he saw a light moving at a distance.

Calling two of his sailors, he pointed it out to them. One agreed that
there was certainly a light bobbing up and down, but the other insisted
that he could see nothing. Columbus did not feel sure enough of his
"light" to claim that it meant land, so he called the ships together and
reminded the crews that their sovereigns had offered to the one who
should first see the shore a pension of ten thousand maravedis (about
twenty-five dollars) a year. In addition, he himself would give a
further reward of a silk doublet. This caused them all to keep a sharp
watch; but land it surely meant, that fitful light which Columbus saw,
for that very night--or about two o'clock in the morning of October 12
--Rodrigo de Triana, a sailor on the _Pinta_, shouted "_Tierra!
Tierra!_" and sure enough, as the dawn grew brighter, there lay a
lovely little green island stretched before their sea-weary eyes!

Who can imagine the tremendous emotions of that famous October morning!
Here were a hundred men who had just demonstrated that the world was
round; for by sailing west they had reached the east--if, as many were
ready to believe, they had come to Martin Alonzo's Cipango! The world