In the boundless sky, endless white clouds drift. On the vast sea, endless seaweed floats. Above and below are two mirrored blue; one reflects the sacred white, the other floats with the mysterious yellow-green, like Heaven reflecting the Abyss.
This is the ocean of sargassum, a rare place of liveliness amidst the blue desert sea! Countless fish swim through the seaweed, and even the sky has seabirds swirling in hunt. Gray-brown boobies are particularly nurous, clustering on the sea surface, diving and hunting for schools of fish. Occasionally, boobies land and pause atop the mast, showing no fear of humans.
Three Castilian sea ships are quietly moored on the sea. Today there is no wind, and the fleet is inexplicably paused, drifting on the sargassum-covered sea. At this mont, the three sea ships huddle together, resembling a turtle with its head craned nearby. All crewn crowd onto the deck, watching the navigator Pedro Alonso Niño aboard the flagship, watching as the asuring rope in his hand plunges deeper into the sea...
"10 fathoms! 20 fathoms! 30 fathoms!... 100 fathoms! 110 fathoms! 120 fathoms!..."
Navigating Pedro loudly counts as he lets down the weighted asuring rope. In nautical asurent, one "fathom" is the length of two arms, approximately 1.8 ters. And 100 fathoms is 180 ters, 200 fathoms is 360 ters...
"190 fathoms! 200 fathoms!... Almighty, the rope is all out, and still hasn't reached the bottom!"
Faced with such asurent results, the sailors on the three boats exchange glances, quickly erupting into noisy clamoring.
"Damn it! Two hundred fathoms deep, and still no bottom... if it were near land, the sea wouldn't be this deep!..."
"Right! The Almighty bears witness! Surrounding Canary Dog Island, at most a depth of 100 fathoms... Coño! This endless seaweed, who knows what it really is. But surely, there's no land around, we're still in the deep sea!... We celebrated for nothing!"
"Indeed! If there were land nearby, even an island, the sea wouldn't be this deep!... Damn it! We've happily voyaged for a full four days in this seaweed sea, yet haven't even touched the edge of land!"
"Oh Almighty! I've been guarding the deck daily, my eyes are blind... Joder! All because of that ridiculous goblin captain saying land was near!"
"Exactly! Whether it was Captain De La Cosa or the Pinzon brothers, they haven't said a word!...
"That's right! Captain De La Cosa and the Pinzon brothers are seasoned old sea dogs... This so-called Admiral Columbus might not even have sailed a ship..."
The chaotic words reach Columbus's ears, causing his face to gradually turn red, like a crab about to snap. He glares in the direction of the loudest voices, his expression suddenly changing. The voices belittling him, surprisingly, co from the "Pinta" light sailing ship.
Captain Martin Alonso Pinzon stands at the prow, gazing from a distance of tens to hundreds of ters over at the flagship. Although Columbus can't clearly see the other's seemingly smirking face, he is sure in his heart that it is mockery!
"Damn Pinzon brothers!... Boldly ignoring , defying the authority of the Expedition Commander!... Diamine! Cazzo!"
Columbus grits his teeth fiercely, anger boiling within, forcing a smile to prevent showing rage.
The so-called Pinzon brothers are, the "Pinta" captain, the eldest, Martin Alonso Pinzon; "Nina" navigator, the second, Francisco Martin Pinzon; and "Nina" captain, the youngest, Vicente Yanez Pinzon. These three guys all hail from the sa large family, truly close brothers.
On these lawless seas, apart from those renowned, fierce legendary captains who can individually suppress an entire fleet... Most tis, the sea's rules are whoever has the most people, whoever's ships are largest, they have the say!
And the Pinzon brothers command two ships, with at least 20 trusted sailors. In this 88-mber deep-sea fleet, they naturally are the strongest, having the dominant voice!
Columbus can strive to suppress Captain De La Cosa, maintaining the Expedition Commander's leadership on the flagship. But against the nurous Pinzon brothers, he can only swallow his pride, sensibly "ignoring" their offenses.
"Commander, the 200 fathoms of rope is used up, should we continue with new rope?... Perhaps, we've sailed past the island you ntioned, entered the new deep sea... On the sea, missing an island is the easiest thing..."
The voice of inquiry arrives just in ti and sounds so delightful. Columbus turns, seeing smiling Navigator Pedro, feeling a touch of gratitude. Following the verbal cue, he nods confidently, addressing the surrounding crew firmly.
"The Almighty guides us! We've sailed too swiftly on the wind! The island in the sea has now fallen behind us... Next, the fleet continues west! Rich Cipangu (Japan) lies just ahead of us! A divine land flowing with milk and honey where upon arrival, everyone can possess gold and wear silk clothes!..."
After a round of strenuous encouragent and soothing, the complaining crew finally return to their stations, re-raising the sails. The fleet once more catches the wind, heading deeper into the western seas. Sensing the crew's hidden discontent, Columbus presses his lips tight, experiencing a rare mont of hesitance.
"rciful Almighty! On September 16th, we sailed 39 leagues, the 17th was 50 leagues, the 18th was 55 leagues, the 19th was 25 leagues, and now it's the 20th!
"rda! In total, we've sailed 450 leagues west, totaling 2475 kiloters! Even my reduced records have 2090 kiloters... Yet still, there's no land, not even a small island! Aristotle ntioned Antillia Island, surely missed... The fabled Saint Brendan's Island should be around here... yet I've found none, not even shallow seas!"
Churning doubts occupy Columbus's mind for only a mont. Then these weak, evasive thoughts are crushed by his stubborn, almost fanatical confidence. At this mont, deep in the unexplored sea, he refuses to doubt himself, nor can he retreat!
For this long-awaited voyage, he's wagered everything, from ti, wealth to life, without any possibility of turning back!...
"Vaffanculo! I'm not wrong, cannot be wrong! Will never be wrong!... By my calculations, West Pan Gu Japan is certainly just west of the Canary Islands, 4,000 kiloters away!"
"Oh God! The brisk easterly wind favors our voyage... Surely, it is Your blessing, Your guidance!... Lord, You watch over , I am blessed!... Indeed, it must be so!"
Complex thoughts flurry from heart to mind, ultimately solidifying into the fire in Columbus's eyes, and his stubbornly resolute expression. He widens his eyes, looking towards the western sea's seaweed and at the horizon beyond, like a blindfolded bull chasing the cliff, resolute in his charge!
"Oh Lord! I understand Your guidance!... Given in just half a month we've sailed already 2500 kiloters, let's press on full sail west!"
"Yes! Precisely! At the current pace, in rely half a month... we'll have covered 4000 kiloters to reach Marco Polo's recorded Great Island, West Pan Gu Japan! And such a true Great Island, expansive and prolonged, surely will not escape our fleet's notice like Antillia Island or Saint Brendan Island!
"God bless! Full throttle west!... I will surely beco the first to discover new routes, reaching the rich Khitan and India! I will certainly bring back ships packed full of gold and spices, with priceless porcelain and silk! Haha! Surely!"
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