It was
low, the island, and it shone before us silver and green, and
the trees moved gently in a wind more sweet, we thought,
than any Andalusian zephyr. Pedro Gutierrez stared.
"Paradise--Paradise!"
It was not what we had looked for, but it was good
enough. It seemed divine, that morning!
Nearer we drew, nearer. The beach was now bare. We
made out the dark, naked folk at edge of the wood, in tree
shadows, watching us. Were they strange to us, be sure
we were stranger to them!
The azure water, so marvelous, met that sand white like
crushed bone, strewn with delicate shells. Never was wind
so sweet as that which blew this morning! Green plumes,
the palms brushed the sky; there seemed to us fruit trees
also, with satin stems and wide-laden boughs. When we
looked over shoulder the _Santa Maria_, the Pinta and the
Nina each rode double, mast and hull in sky, mast and hull
in mirror sea. Something strange and divine was about
us, over us. We wished to laugh, we wished to weep.
Boat head touched clean sand. The oars rested. Christopherus
Columbus the Admiral stepped from boat first and
alone, all waiting as was right. He took with him the banner
of Spain. He walked a few yards, then struck the
standard into the sand. There was air enough to open the
folds, to make them float and fly. Kneeling, he bowed himself
and kissed the earth.
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