But while sails were not perfected, and consequently were of particular use only when the wind was more or less astern, ships grew in size, and consequently more sail area was required to propel them. This resulted in the enlarging of the single sail until it grew clumsy and finally resulted in the use of more than one sail, each spread from a mast of its own. Later still, in these ships carrying several masts, one would sometimes carry two sails, one above the other. Occasionally, ships with but one mast similarly subdivided their great square sails. Roman ships of the larger sizes—notably the corn-ships that brought food to the capital from Egypt—developed this subdivision of sails, but it was hardly more than a subdivision for more than a thousand years after the time of Christ—in reality, not for 1,500 years, for even the caravels of the time of Columbus had few actual improvements over the earliest ships of the Christian Era. It is true that the lateen sail had been adopted largely for use on the mizzenmast—or third mast from the bow—and that that sail has more driving power than a square sail when the ship is heading into the wind. But still ships were weak in “going to windward”—that is, in making any headway in sailing into that half of the compass’s circle that is marked by ninety degrees to the right and to the left of the point directly toward the wind. This is borne out by the complaints of Columbus’s men, who, when they found themselves being driven westward day after day with the steady Trade Winds from behind them, expressed their fear of never again being able to return to Spain. But, clumsy as these old sailing ships were, they came and went, searching farther and farther into the unknown world, proving, beyond doubt, that men have always been able to get along, even with crude instruments, and that, in the last analysis, men are more important than equipment. So awkward in our eyes were the ships of Columbus’s time that when replicas of his original ships were built in 1893, for the World’s Fair at Chicago, and were sailed by Capt. D. U. Concas, an experienced modern seaman, over the course Columbus took, the feat was looked upon as extraordinary, despite the fact that Captain Concas’s knowledge of winds, currents, and navigation was infinitely superior to the great discoverer’s. So great were the steps taken in 400 years of ship-building that this feat, far simpler than scores that are recorded in the stories of the old adventurers, was hailed as heroic. But we have accustomed ourselves to sailing ships that can be handled with such marvellous ease that it would take an exceptionally able and fearless sailor to handle even that replica of the _Santa Maria_ that still is to be seen anchored in a park lake at Chicago. He would be a truly fearless or a truly foolish man who would attempt to take her across Lake Michigan in anything more than the mildest of summer zephyrs.