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 awhile, 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 seatand the professor said, "But just a moment, Mr. Jones. Won't you tell the class what makes youthink 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 orbetter history than the history books do, isn't it your duty to tellus?" [Illustration: He clutched at his slashed veins and snarled into theface of death. ] "I didn't say he _wasn't_, " Danny Jones said desperately as the laughterstarted again. Some profs were like that, he thought. Picking on onestudent and making the rest of the class laugh and think what a greatguy the prof was and what a prize dodo the hapless student was. "Isaid, " Danny went on doggedly, "Columbus might not have been--maybewasn't--the bold skipper the history books claim he was. I can't proveit. No one can. I haven't a time machine. " Again it was the wrong thing to say. The professor wagged a finger infront 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 allbut rolling in the aisles. Danny said desperately, "No! No, I mean, they don't even know for sureif Columbus was born in Genoa. They just think he was. So they alsocould be wrong about--" Abruptly the professor's face went serious. "My dear Mr. Jones, " he saidslowly, acidly, "don't you think we've had enough of fantasy? Don't youthink we ought to return to history?" Danny sat down and for a moment shut his eyes but remained conscious ofeveryone 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 anonymityin the very size of the classes, to a small town college where everyface, after a week or so, was familiar. Danny wished he had kept his bigyap shut about Columbus, but it was too late now. They'd be ribbing himfor weeks. .. . On his way back to the dorm after classes he was hailed by a student wholived down the hall from him, a fellow named Groves, who said, "How'sthe boy, Danny. Next thing you'll tell us is that Cortez was really asexy Spanish broad with a thirty-eight bust who conquered Montezuma andhis 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 totell you. There's a telegram waiting for you in the dorm. House-mother'sgot 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 atthe rear of the building. She was a kindly-looking old woman with a haloof white hair and a smile which made her a good copy of everyone'sgrandmother. But now her face was set in unexpectedly grim lines. "Telegram for you, Danny, " she said slowly. "They read it over thetelephone first, then delivered it. " She held out a yellow envelope. "I'm afraid it's some bad news, Danny. " She seemed somehow reluctant topart 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 YOUUNCLE AVERILL PASSED AWAY LAST NIGHT PEACEFULLY IN HIS SLEEP LEAVINGUNSPECIFIED PROPERTY TO YOU. It was signed with a name Danny did notrecognize. "I'm terribly sorry, " the house-mother said, placing her hand onDanny's shoulder. "Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Grange. It's all right. You see, UncleAverill 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. Westayed at his place on the coast near St. Augustine, Florida, for ayear. I--I feel sorry about Uncle Averill, Mrs. Grange, but I feelbetter about something that happened in class today. I--I think UncleAverill 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 forgranted, especially in history. I can almost remember his voice now, theway he used to say, 'if ever there's an argument in history, sonny, allyou 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 oldUncle Averill was a little queer. Touched in the head is what theysaid. " "They oughtn't to say such things. " "Always tinkering around in his basement. Funny, nobody ever knew onwhat. He wouldn't let anybody near the place. He had a time lock andeverything. What nobody could figure out is if he was trying so hard toguard something that was in the basement, why did he sometimes disappearfor weeks on end without even telling anybody where he went. And Iremember, " Danny went on musing, "every time he came back he went intothat harangue about history, as if somehow he had confirmed hissuspicions. He was a funny old guy but I liked him. " "You remembering him so vividly after all these years will be the bestepitaph 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 thereto 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 youthink your uncle left you anything--well--important?" "Important?" Danny repeated the word. "No, I don't think so. Not by theworld's standards. But it must have been important to Uncle Averill. Hewas 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 Greyhoundthat would take him over to Richmond, where he would meet a train forthe south and Florida. * * * * * It was a rambling white stucco house with a red tile roof and a pleasantgrove 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 theyhad entered the house. "Your uncle wanted it that way. " "Wait a minute, " Danny said, "don't tell me they already had thefuneral?" "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 hada judge for a friend, and under the circumstances, his wishes weregranted. 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 knowbetter. Sonny, " the lawyer asked abruptly, "how well did you know theold man?" The sonny rankled. After all, Danny thought, I'm nineteen. I like beerand girls and I'm no sonny anymore. He sighed and thought of his historyclass, then thought of Uncle Averill's opinion of history, and feltbetter. He explained the relationship to Mr. Tartalion and waited forthe lawyer to speak. "Well, it beats me, " Tartalion admitted. "Why he left it to a nephew hehasn't seen in ten or eleven years, I mean. Don't just look at me likethat. You know that contraption he had in the basement, don't you? Howhe wouldn't let a soul near it, ever? Then tell me something, Danny. Whydid 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 theonly thing he had worth willing. He said he willed it to you. Want me toread you the clause?" Danny nodded. He felt strangely flattered, because the contraption inAverill Jones' basement--a contraption which no one but Averill Joneshad 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 livedalone in St. Augustine and had liked living alone. The only relative hehad tolerated was Danny, when Danny was a small boy. Then, as Dannyapproached his ninth birthday, the old man had said, "They're teachingyou too much at school, son. Too many wrong things, too manyhighfalutin' notions, too much just plain old hogwash. Why don't youkind of make yourself scarce for a few years?" It had been blunt and tothe point. It had made Danny cry. He hadn't thought of what had happenedthat last day he'd seen his grand-uncle for years, but he thought of itnow. * * * * * "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 youcan't. " "You have to tell me why!" "Stubborn little critter. Well, I like that. All right, I'll tell youwhy. Because the machine has a funny kind of fuel, that's why. Itdoesn'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 goneyou'll find out. If anyone finds out, it will be you, and that's apromise. " "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'llthink old Uncle Averill has a screw loose somewheres--because thatmachine 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 talkingand sermoning about, but a different kind of faith. Personal faith, youmight 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'tknowledge at all, but hearsay. That's what they're teaching you. Inschool, other places, every day of your life. I'll tell you when you cancome back, Danny: when you're ready to throw most of it overboard. Allright?" He had had to say all right. It was the last time he had ever seen hisuncle, 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'tlet them pull the wool over your eyes. History is propaganda--from awinner's point of view. If a side lost the war and got stamped on, younever see the war from its point of view. If an idea got out of favorand stamped on, the idea is ridiculed. Don't forget it, son. If youbelieve something, if you _know_ it's right, have faith in it and don'tgive a mind what people say. Promise?" Danny, his eyes stinging with tears because somehow he could sense hewould 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 toreturn 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 oneelse in the house. It's perfectly legal. If that's what your unclewanted, 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 openand close, heard a car engine start. Then, slowly, he walked through theliving room of his dead uncle's house and across the long, narrowkitchen and to the basement stairs. His hands were very dry and he felthis heart thudding. He was nervous, which surprised him. * * * * * But why? he thought, why should it surprise me? All my life, UncleAverill's basement has been a mystery. Let's face it, Danny-boy, youhaven't exactly had an adventurous life. Maybe Uncle Averill was thebiggest adventure in it, with his secret machine and strangedisappearances. And maybe Uncle Averill did a good selling job when youwere small, because that machine means mystery to you. It's probably notmuch more than a better mousetrap, but you want to believe it is, don'tyou? And you're nervous because the way Uncle Averill kept you andanyone else away from his basement when you were a kid makes it a kindof 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. Ithad had a time lock in the old days, Danny remembered, but the lock wasgone now. The metal door swung ponderously, like the door to a bankvault, and then Danny was on the other side. It was dark down there, butfaint light seeped in through small high windows and in a few momentsDanny's eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. The basement was empty except for what looked like a big old steamertrunk in the center of the dusty cement floor. Danny was disappointed. He had childhood visions of an intricate mazeof machinery cluttering up every available square foot of basementspace, but now he knew that whatever it was which had taken up so muchof Uncle Averill's time could fit in the odd-looking steamer trunk inthe center of the floor and thus wasn't too much bigger than a good-sizeTV set. He walked slowly to the trunk and stood for a few moments overthe lid. It was an ancient-looking steamer: Uncle Averill must haveowned 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 furtherdisappointment--because now he had a hunch that Uncle Averill's machinewas going to be a first-class dud. Maybe, he thought gloomily, UncleAverill had simply not liked to be with people and had used the ruse ofa bank-vault door and an empty steamer trunk to achieve privacy wheneverhe felt the need for it. Remembering the history class, Danny decided that--after all--sometimesthat wasn't a bad idea. Finally, he called himself a fool for waitingand threw up the trunk-lid. A small case was all he saw inside, although the interior of the trunkwas larger than he had expected. A man could probably curl up in therequite comfortably. But the case--the case looked exactly like it oughtto house a tape-recorder. Danny reached in and hauled out the case. It was heavy, about as heavyas a tape-recorder ought to be. Danny placed it down on the floor andopened it. What he saw was a battery-powered tape-recorder. His disappointmentincreased: 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 exactlyhow old you are, boy. Seventeen? Eighteen? Twenty? Well, it doesn'tmatter--if you still believe. If you have faith. Faith in what? Maybenow you're old enough to know. I mean faith in--not having faith. Thatis, faith in not taking faithfully all the silly items of knowledgethey try to cram down your throat in school. See what I mean? Rememberwhat I always said about history, Danny: you get propaganda, is all, from the winning side. If you got faith enough in yourself, Danny, faithenough not to believe everything the history books tell you, that's thekind of faith I mean. Because such a faith gave me the most interestinglife a man ever lived, make no mistake about that. "I'm dead, Danny. Yep, old Uncle Averill is dead. Because thistape-recorder won't be left you in my will until I am dead. But, noregrets, 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 havein mind? Make no mistake about it now, son. If you don't believe, youmight 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 tobelieve in historical fairy tales? Faith to doubt when one ought todoubt? Faith to be skeptical. .. . "Good, " said the voice from the past. "Then you're still here. Look infront 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 hehad 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, Dannythought that was all. Then the voice continued: "No, your oldgrand-uncle isn't nuts, Danny. It's a time machine. I know it's a timemachine because I used it all my life. You expected some kind ofcomplicated gadget down here, I know. I made everybody think it was agadget. Going down to your basement and tinkering with a gadget is finein our culture. Hell's fire, boy, it's approved behavior. But locking abank-vault door behind you and curling up in a steamer trunk, that isn'tapproved. Now, is it? "I'll tell you about this here time machine, sonny. It isn't a machineat all, in the strict sense of the word. You can see that. It'sjust--well, an empty box. But it works, and what else ought a fellow tocare about. "Funny how I got it. I was eighteen or twenty, maybe. And myGrand-uncle Daniel gave it to me. Daniel, get me. Daniel to Averill toDaniel. 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 olderthan you think. "And you can travel through time in it. Don't look at me like that, Iknow what you're thinking. There isn't any such thing as time travel. Inthe strict sense of the word, it's impossible. You can't resurrect thepast or peek into the unborn future. Well, I don't know about thefuture, but I do know about the past. But you got to have faith, you gotto 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 likeyou 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. Inthe trunk. In what they called suspended animation. But you--the realyou, 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 usualsense 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 DannyJones! You get me?" * * * * * The dead man's voice chuckled. "But don't think this means automaticallyyou'll be able to travel through time. Because you got to have theproper attitude. You've got to believe in yourself, and not in all thehistorical fictions they give you. Now do you understand? If you'reskeptical enough and if at the same time you like to dreamenough--that's all it takes. Want to try it?" Suddenly the voice was gone. That was all there was and at first Dannycould not believe it. A sense of bitter disappointment envelopedhim--not because Uncle Averill had left him nothing but an old steamertrunk but because Uncle Averill had been, to say the least, off hisrocker. 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 hadpromised; at least he'd promised himself that he'd carry out hispeculiar uncle's wishes. Besides, he'd come all the way down here fromWhitney 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 andmaybe closing the lid. Uncle Averill was a practical joker, too. Itmight be just like Uncle Averill to have the lid snap shut and lockautomatically so Danny would have to pound his knuckles black and blueuntil the lawyer heard and came for him. You see, sonny? would be Uncle Averill's point. You believed me, and youshould have known better. Danny cursed himself and returned to the trunk. He gazed down at theyawning interior for a few seconds, then put first one foot, then theother over the side. He sat down and stared at a peeling blue-paperliner. He rolled over and curled up. The bottom of the trunk was a goodfit. He reached up and found a rope dangling down toward him. He pulledthe lid down, smiling at his own credulity, and was engulfed in totaldarkness. But it would be wonderful, he found himself thinking. It would be themost wonderful thing in the world, to be able to travel through time andsee for yourself what really had happened in all the world's colorfulages 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 hishistory class was very important. It was crucial. Everything depended onhis 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 hehappened to discover . .. Now, what did he discover? In absolute darkness and a ringing in the ears and far away a dimglowing light and larger and brighter and the whirling whirling spinningflashing I don't believe but strangely somehow I have faith, faith inmyself, 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 raisedhis head. He saw raw wood rafters, a leaded glass window, a stained andgreasy wall, heavy wood-plank tables with heavy chairs and abarbarous-looking crew drinking from heavy clay mugs. One of the mugswas 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 somehowwithout gagging. The laughter came again, rolling over him like a wave. A serving girl scurried by, skirts flashing, a rough tray of clay mugsbalanced expertly on one hand. A man with a sword dangling at his sidestaggered to his feet drunkenly and clawed at the girl, but she shovedhim 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 longboard-table asked. He was an evil-looking old man with a patch over oneeye and a small white spade-shaped beard and unshaven cheeks. "Not me, " Danny said, amazed because the language was unfamiliar to himyet 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 uglyblackened teeth and the old man laughed so hard spittle spotted hisbeard. "As if you didn't know, " he managed to say. "As if you didn'tknow, Martin Pinzon. It's that weak-minded sailor again, the one whoclaims to have a charter for three caravels from the Queen herself. Drunk as Bacchus and there's his pretty little daughter trying to gethim 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 sawthe butt of all the laughter. Slowly, drawn irresistibly, MartinPinzon--or Danny Jones--got up and walked over there. The man was drunk as Bacchus, all right. He was a man perhaps somewhattaller than average. He had a large head with an arrogant beak of a nosedominating the face, but the mouth was weak and irresolute. He stareddrunkenly at a beautiful girl who could not have been more thanseventeen. 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 threestinking caravels and--" he leaned forward as if to speak in deepestconfidence, but his drunken voice was still very loud--"and drunk when Isaid the world was round. I--" "You hear that?" someone cried. "Old Chris was drunk when he said theworld was round!" "He must a' been!" someone else shouted. Everyone laughed. "Come on, papa, " the girl pleaded. She wore a shawl over her dress andanother shawl on her head. Her blonde hair barely peeked out, and shewas beautiful. She tried to drag her father to his feet by one arm, buthe 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 helpme? Papa sails tomorrow. " "Papa sails tomorrow, " said someone, miming her desperate tones. "Didn'tyou 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 tuggedagain 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 bewith your old father. Eh, mates?" he cried, and the tavern echoed withlaughter. 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 thisdrunken slob of a father and--" Crack! Her hand blurred at his cheek, struck it like a pistol shot. Thebig 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 toodrunk to carry out the Queen of Castile's bid--" The hand flashed out again but this time the big man caught it in one ofhis own and twisted sideways against the girl, forcing her back againstthe table's edge. "I like my girls to struggle, " he said, and the girl'sface 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 arose, 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. Hardlypausing in his efforts to kiss the again struggling girl, the big manswatted back with one enormous arm and sent Danny reeling. Whoever hewas, 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 crashingdown, the heavy bowl splintering, the hot contents scalding him. Hestood up and heard the girl scream. Instinctively, he grasped two legsof 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 manwhirled and faced Danny, then lunged to one side, taking the girl withhim. Danny couldn't check his arms, which had carried the heavy chairoverhead. It came down with a crash against the edge of the big planktable. The chair shattered in Danny's arms. One leg flew up and struckthe big man in the face, though, bringing blood just below the cheekbone. He bellowed in surprise and pain and came lumbering toward Danny. Danny was aware of the girl cowering to one side, aware that another ofthe 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 hissize, 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, brutalface. .. . And Danny drove under them with the chair-leg, jabbing the tipof it against the man's enormous middle. Pietro--for such was the man'sname--sagged a few inches, the breath rushing, heavy with garlic, fromhis mouth. But still, he got his great hands about Danny's throat andbegan 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, wateryconfusion 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 goand then slamming it back toward himself, striking something which hehoped was Pietro's head. He felt his mouth going slack and wondered ifhis 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 againsthis middle, almost knocking him down. Something pushed against his legs, backing him against the table. He looked down. His eyes were watery, histhroat burning. The giant Pietro lay, breathing stertorously, at hisfeet. A small hand grabbed his. "Father will come now, " a voice said. "Idon't--don't even know who you are, but I want to thank you. I thank youfor myself and the Queen, and God, senor. You better come quickly, withus. Does it hurt much?" Danny tried to talk. His voice rasped in his throat. The girl squeezedhis 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 hisfist at them slowly. .. . * * * * * It was a small top-floor room in an old waterfront building in theSpanish port of Palos. Or, Danny corrected himself, the Castillian portof Palos. Because, in this year of our Lord 1492, Spain had barelybecome 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 roomwas very hot. The August night outside was hot too and sultry andstarless. The girl's father was resting now, breathing unevenly. Thegirl's name was Nina. One of the small caravels in her father'sthree-ship fleet was named after her. Her full name was Nina Columbus. Nina brought another wet cloth and covered Danny's swollen throat withit. "Does it hurt much?" she said, and, for the tenth time, "we have nomoney to thank you with, senor. " "Any man would have--" "But you were the only one. The only--never mind. Martin, listen. I haveno right to trouble you, but . .. It's father. Tomorrow is the second dayof August, you see, and it is all over Palos that tomorrow he sails withthe 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 worldis round. I believe it. " "My father doesn't! Funny, isn't it, Martin?" she said in a voice whichtold him she did not think it was funny at all. "All Spain--and Genoatoo--think that tomorrow morning my father, Christopher Columbus, willjourney to the unexplored west confident that he will arrive, after along voyage, in the East--when really my father, this same ChristopherColumbus, lies here in a drunken stupor because he lacks the courage toface his convictions and . .. Oh, Martin!" Her voice broke, her prettyface crumpled. She sobbed into her hands. Gently, Danny stroked herback. * * * * * "There now, take it easy, " he said. "Your father will sail. I know he'llsail. 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 wakeup and say goodbye to him in the morning. Because I'll be getting him upbefore 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 theorganization to prove the Earth's round shape. You! You were there. Andonce, once when he was not drunk, father said that a Don Pinzon wouldcommand one of our three ships, the Nina it was, the caravel whichbears my name. Are you this Don Pinzon?" Slowly, Danny nodded. He remembered his history now. The Nina _had_ beencommanded by one Don Pinzon, Don Martin Pinzon! And he was now thisMartin Pinzon, he, Danny Jones. Which meant he was going with Columbusto discover a new world! A nineteen-year-old American youth going towitness 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 theCanary 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. Ihave to go with you. " "But a girl--" "He is my father. I love him, Martin. He needs me. Martin, don't try tostop 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 thembeing hired even now by the three caravel pursers--will be a crew ofcut-throats and ne'er-do-wells embarking into the unknown because theyhave utterly nothing to lose. Father needs you because the others won'tcare. " "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 werenot tears of sadness. She took his cheeks in her hands and kissed himsoftly 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 asecond time, fiercely. His hands her shoulder, her throat, her . .. "Flat, " Columbus mumbled. "Flat. Abs'lutely flat. The Earth is--flat asa pancake. .. . " "Oh, Martin!" Nina cried. * * * * * It was raining in the morning. A hard, driving rain, pelting down on theseaport of Palos. The three caravels floated side by side in the littleharbor and a large, derisive crowd had gathered. The crowd erupted intonoisy 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 atyou. " Columbus, thought Danny. The intrepid voyager who had discovered a newworld! He smiled grimly. Columbus, the history books should have said, the drunken sot who didn't even have the courage to face his ownconvictions. They walked ahead through the ridiculing crowd. Danny's throat was stillsore. He was not frightened, though. He possibly was the only man in thecrew who was not frightened. The others didn't care what theirdestination was, true: but they wanted to reach it alive. Danny knew thejourney would end in success. The end of the journey meant nothing tohim. It was written in history. It was . .. Unless, he suddenly found himself thinking, I came back here to writeit. He grinned at his own bravado. What would they have said in freshmanpsych--that was practically paranoid thinking. As if Danny Jones, Whitney College, Virginia, U. S. A. , could have anything to do with thesuccess or failure of Columbus' journey. They reached the small skiff that would take them out to the tiny fleetof 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 andsteered him toward the prow of the skiff. "Easy now, skipper, " Dannysaid. "I can't--" "There's wine on the Santa Maria, " Danny whispered. "Much wine--to makeyou 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, thenMartin can. " "But you--" Danny began. "Be quiet, please, " she whispered as Columbus climbed stiffly into theskiff. "It may be the only way, Martin. He--he loves me. I guess I'm theonly thing he cares about. If he knows I'm going. " "To the Santa Maria!" Columbus told the rowers as Danny and Nina gotinto 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 waitingcaravels. Departure time had arrived. Two hours later, they were underway. * * * * * The sea was calm as glass, green as emerald. The three caravels, after ajourney of several days, had reached the Canary Islands where additionalprovisions 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 nothingfurther, can't you see? Can't you?" He was sober. Danny had come over in a skiff from the Nina to see thathe remained sober at least for the loading and the departure. It wasas if he, Danny, was going to preserve Columbus' name forhistory--single-handed if necessary. "We will not go on, " Columbus said. "We're going back. The only way tothe 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 Dannythat it wasn't merely self-assertiveness: it was fear. Danny called over the mate, a one-legged man named Juan, who walked witha 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, MartinPinzon. I heard what the Captain said. If he wants to go back and giveup this fool scheme, it's all right with me. And you know the rest ofthe 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'llfall 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 thewestern route to the Indies, we will. Right, Nina?" he said, taking herhand and moving to where the rope-ladder dangled over the side of theSanta 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 cametoward Danny. "I'm sorry, Don Martin, " he said, "but--" Still holding Nina's hand, Martin stiff-armed him out of the way and ranfor the side. Someone jerked the rope-ladder out of reach and someoneelse leaped on Martin. For, he was Martin now, Martin Pinzon. His ownidentity seemed submerged far below the surface, as if somehow he couldlook on all this without risking anything. He knew that he was merely adefense mechanism, to ward off fear: for, it wasn't true. If MartinPinzon were hurt, _he_ would be hurt. He hurled the man from his back. Nina screamed as a cutlass flashed inthe 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 felthimself arise to the surface, submerging Martin Pinzon. Because theSpaniard probably couldn't swim at all, and if Danny made promises, itwas Danny who must fulfill them. He squeezed Nina's hand. He went up on the side--and over. The waterseemed 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--andfinally up. Danny's head broke surface. He was only yards from theskiff. He had never let go of Nina's hand, but now he did, getting alifeguard'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 SantaMaria, 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 sailingwest with you to certain death. He will follow with the Santa Maria andthe Pinta, trying to rescue you. And we'll reach the Indies. Columbuswill sail across the Western Sea to save his daughter, but what's thedifference _why_ he'll sail. The important thing is, Queen Isabella gavehim the charter and the caravels and with them he's making history. Yousee?" "I . .. I think so, " Nina said doubtfully. A heady wind sprang up. The square-rigged sails billowed. The Nina beganto surge forward--into the unknown West. Tackle creaked aboard the nearby Santa Maria and Pinta. The two othercaravels came in pursuit. But they won't catch us, Martin knew. Theywon't catch us until we reach--Hispaniola. And then, pursuit will be nomore. 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 andinto October, but the Nina kept its slim lead. The ships were never outof sight of one another and once or twice Columbus even hailed them, imploring them to return to Spain with him. When they ignored him, hisdeep voice boomed to his own crew and the crew of the Pinta: "Then sailon, 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 disturbedhis sleep--something . .. "Good morning, captain, " a voice said. He looked up. It was a giant of a man, with a hard face andbrutal-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 auxiliaryrower. You never knew. " He said nothing else. He lunged at Martin'sbunk--for I'm Martin again, Danny thought--a knife gleaming in his bighand. * * * * * Martin-Danny sat up, bringing the covers with him, hurling them like acloak at Pietro. The giant's knife-hand caught in the covers and Dannyswung to his feet, shoving the big man. Pietro stumbled into the bunk, then lashed around quickly, unexpectedly, the knife loose again. Dannyfelt it grating across his ribs hotly, searingly. He staggered andalmost fell, but somehow made it to the door and on deck. He neededroom. Facing that knife in the close confines of the cabin, he was adead 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 oneside. The knife thudded into the wood alongside Danny's shoulder. Then the door came open, throwing him back. He stumbled, regained hisbalance, plunged outside. With a roar, Pietro followed him, knife againin hand. Danny backed away slowly. Only a few crew members were on deck now, anda watch high up in the crow's nest. The watch was crying in analmost-delirious voice: "Land, land! Land ho-oo!" But Martin-Dannyhardly heard the words. Pietro came at him-- Suddenly Don Hernan was in front of him. Don Hernan's hand nipped up andthen 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 aknife. 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 theballs of his feet. For all his size, he fought with the grace of adancer. Danny felt warm wetness where the blood was seeping from his ribs. Feetpounded as more of the crew came on deck in response to the watch'sdelirious words. Instead of crowding at the prow, though, they formed acircle around Danny and Pietro. Danny thought: But I'm the captain. Thecaptain. They ought to help me . .. They . .. He knew though that theywould not. They were a fierce, proud people and the law of single combatwould apply even to the captain who had piloted them across an unknownocean. Pietro came by, attempting to slash with his knife from outside. Dannymoved quickly--not quick enough. The knife point caught his arm thistime. He felt his hand go numb. His own knife clattered to the deck asblood oozed from his biceps. Once more Pietro charged him. Weaponless, Danny waited. Pietro waslaughing, sure of himself-- Careless. Danny slipped aside as Pietro brought the knife around in a wickedswipe. He spun with it and when he came around Danny was waiting forhim. He drove his left fist into the great belly and his right to thebig, bearded jaw. Pietro slumped, disbelief in his eyes. He swung theknife 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 theface!" Wearily, Danny shook his head. He went with Nina to the rail and saw thegreen palm-fringed island of the New World. Nina smiled at him, thenripped something from what she was wearing and began to bandage hisribs, his arm. * * * * * They heard a splash. Danny looked around, saw Don Hernan and a member ofthe crew gazing serenely down. Pietro was down there, where they hadtossed him. For a while the body floated, then the limbs splashed wildlyas Pietro regained consciousness. He drifted back away from the ship. Hewent 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 eastand west. They must learn for themselves. The Pinta and the Santa Maria came up alongside. All thoughts of pursuitwere gone. Columbus waved. He was very close now on the deck of theSanta Maria. There was something in his face, something changed. Columbus was a new man now. He had been shamed. He had followed hisdaughter and Martin Pinzon across an unknown ocean and he was changednow. 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. Heliked this slim girl--he liked her immensely, and it wasn't right. Shewasn't his, not really. She was Martin Pinzon's. He let the Spaniardcome to the surface, willed his own mind back and down and away. She'sall yours, Pinzon, he told the other mind in his body. She--and thisworld. 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 hefelt stiff. Mostly, his right arm and the right ribs felt stiff. He felthis shirt. It was caked with blood. Proof, he thought. If I needed proof. What happened to Pinzon happenedto me. He stood up. He felt weak, but knew he would be all right. He knew aboutColumbus now. At first, a weak drunkard. But after the first voyage, thanks to Martin Pinzon and Nina, an intrepid voyager. For history saidColumbus would make four voyages to the New World--and four he wouldmake. Danny went outside, to where the lawyer was waiting for him. The trunkwas Danny's now, the time trunk. And he would use it again, often. Heknew 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.