Columbus’s idea of India, or “the Indies” as the territories of the far East were called in Europe, was distinctly hazy; but his own desires and his acceptance of the views of an eminent Arabian cosmographer, whose calculations had greatly reduced the circumference of the earth, inclined him to the belief that after a short stretch of ocean he would almost certainly land amid the wonders of Cathay and Cipango. Such a theory was not without biblical confirmation; since the Prophet Esdras had plainly stated that God commanded “that the waters should be gathered into the seventh part of the earth,” thus limiting the sea within the bounds of navigable channels. To pure romance, scripture, and science, were added sailors’ tales of strange debris cast by the sea on the Azores, the westernmost point of African discovery: bits of wood carved but not with metal, canoes made of hollowed barks of trees, corpses even, whose faces bore no European nor negro semblance. All such evidence was carefully collected and, we may be sure, lost none of its significance in the telling, when Columbus rehearsed his project before King John and his Court, begging that monarch to grant him the necessary ships, and to promise him, in the event of success, the office of Admiral over all the lands he might discover, with a viceroy’s share of the spoils and power. Perhaps King John considered this demand exorbitant, or else the scheme too hare-brained; it is more likely that he believed he had struck a mine of wealth in Western Africa and saw no reason, so long as that source of profit remained unexhausted, to risk ships and lives in a problematical voyage elsewhere. According to one tradition, he and his councillors obtained Columbus’s plans under pledge of secrecy, and then to test their worth hastily dispatched an expedition, whose mariners, quailing before their task, soon returned to pronounce the design impossible. Whether this be true or false, it is certain that, after long delays, the committee especially appointed by King John to inquire into the matter, unanimously decided against Columbus’s schemes. “I went to take refuge in Portugal,” wrote Christopher himself some years later, relieving his bitterness by what was probably exaggeration as to the length of his sojourn, “since the King of that country was more versed in discovery than any other; but he put to shame his sight, his hearing, and all his faculties, for in fourteen years I could not make him understand what I said.” From Portugal Columbus passed to Spain in 1485. His wife, it is believed, had died some little time before; and it is likely he was thankful to leave a country whose associations were by this time mainly sad. He took with him his son Diego and settled in Seville, where he succeeded in interesting in his project one of the great territorial lords of the neighbourhood, the Duke of Medina-Celi.