"You see the rubies of
Cipango!"
It is not alone "great" men who bring about things in
this world. All of us are in a measure great, as all are on
the way to greater greatness. Sailors are brave and hardy
men; that is said when it is said that they are sailors. In
many hearts hung dread of this voyage and rebellion against
being forced to it. But they had not to be lashed to the
boats; they went with sailors' careless air and dignity. By
far the most went thus. Even Fernando ceased his wailing
and embarked. The red light, or for danger or for rubies in
which still might be danger, washed us all, washed the town,
the folk and the sandy shore, and the boats that would take
us out to the ships, small in themselves, and small by distance,
riding there in the river-mouth like toys that have been
made for children.
The hundred and twenty entered the boats. It was like a
little fishing fleet going out together. The rowers bent to
the oars, a strip of water widened between us and Spain.
Loud chanted the friars, but over their voices rose the crying
of farewell, now deep, now shrill. "_Adios!_" The
sailors cried back, "Adios! Adios!" From the land it
must have had a thin sound like ghosts wailing from the
edge of the world. That, the sailors held and Palos held,
was where the ships were going, over the edge of the world.
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