So the days passed in alternate hope and fear. Once Martin Pinzon felt so sure that he saw land, that the crews of each vessel knelt down and chanted a solemn thanksgiving, "Glory to God in the highest," such were the words that rose up in the calm evening air, but, alas! the land turned out to be only a cloud.
When the mutiny was at its greatest height the heavenly Father let the men who had murmured look on the blessed signs of land until their wicked thoughts passed away, and hope and trust came back to their hearts instead. For, on the 10th of October, there could be no doubt that they were near some shore. Beside fresh herbs and grasses, they saw a green fish, which is only found near rocks, a reed and a carved stick, a little plank, and a branch of thorn covered with red berries, which looked as if it had only just been plucked.
[Illustration: _Columbus pointing to the Land.--p. 159_]
After evening prayer on that day Columbus ordered a careful watch to be made, and remained himself on the high stern of the _Santa Maria_ during the night. Now and then he observed a glimmer of light, which he supposed came from the shore, and at two o'clock in the morning the firing of a gun from the _Pinta_ was the signal that land had really been seen. Not an eye closed that night; the sails were taken in, and the whole company on board the caravels waited in breathless suspense for the dawn. As the day broke, Columbus perceived a level island stretching out before them covered with trees; the natives were already coming out of the woods and rushing towards the shore, evidently astonished at the sight of the strange vessels. The boats were manned and armed, and Columbus, Martin Pinzon, and Vincente, his brother, each got into a boat, Columbus bearing the royal standard of Spain, and the others banners with green crosses upon them. The natives stood around as they landed, and looked on, half fearful, in silence. Columbus kissed the earth on which he first set foot, and planting the cross upon it, called it by the name of St. Salvador.[13] Then the Spaniards hailed him as Admiral, and swore obedience to him: those who had rebelled were now thoroughly ashamed of their wicked conduct, and entreated his pardon--a pardon he readily granted--for it was not in his noble nature to resent an injury done to himself.