The caravels set sail early in October, bearing off Columbus shackled like
the vilest of culprits, amidst the scoffs and shouts of a miscreant
rabble, who took a brutal joy in heaping insults on his venerable head,
and sent curses after him from the shores of the island he had so recently
added to the civilized world. Fortunately the voyage was favorable, and of
but moderate duration, and was rendered less disagreeable by the conduct
of those to whom he was given in custody. The worthy Villejo, though in
the service of Fonseca, felt deeply moved at the treatment of Columbus.
The master of the caravel, Andreas Martin, was equally grieved: they both
treated the admiral with profound respect and assiduous attention. They
would have taken off his irons, but to this he would not consent. "No,"
said he proudly, "their majesties commanded me by letter to submit to
whatever Bobadilla should order in their name; by their authority he has
put upon me these chains; I will wear them until they shall order them to
be taken off, and I will preserve them afterwards as relics and memorials
of the reward of my services." [88]

"He did so," adds his son Fernando; "I saw them always hanging in his
cabinet, and he requested that when he died they might be buried with
him." [89]





Book XIV.