The Way Home
The sailors watching from above aboard the Horned Whale sensed danger — the men on Columbus's ships were growing frantic.
"Captain! Something's wrong over there!"
"Cut the lines and unfurl the sails! Open the distance!"
"Aye!"
They swung the axes at their hips to sever the ropes, spread the canvas, and began catching the wind.
The ship started to pick up speed, bit by bit.
"We should never have pulled alongside!"
"Widen the gap!"
"Ready the rifles! Prepare to shoot before they do!"
Aboard the Horned Whale, activity broke out as well. They had tried talking first, only to find the conversation useless — and now an attack looked imminent.
The distance was far too close, and the enemy ships sat low in the water. Firing the cannons as things stood, a hit would be difficult.
"Smoke rising over there! They mean to fire their cannons!"
"Damn it all!"
"Open fire with whatever we've got!"
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Though she was a patrol vessel and didn't carry an oversized crew, the Horned Whale still had a hundred and sixty sailors aboard — more than enough men to attack with rifles.
"Get down while you shoot! No telling what kind of shot they'll loose!"
The captain reasoned that if the enemy fired grapeshot, the scattered pellets might still find flesh.
BOOM! KRA-KRA-KRABOOM!
"I'll kill every last one of those goddamn bastards!"
The captain's head felt ready to burst with rage.
CRACK-CRACK-TWANG! THUNK-THUNK
Cannonballs from Columbus's fleet began slamming into the Horned Whale.
But whether it was the ironclad's superb protection or simply the weakness of their enemy's guns, most of the shots bounced off or merely lodged in the hull without piercing it.
"My ship!"
Tears blurred the captain's vision. When he'd first been assigned the Horned Whale, he'd thought himself the luckiest man alive — he hadn't had to start out on a Dolphin like everyone else.
And now, for the first time in his careful, doting stewardship, his beloved ship had taken damage.
"Whatever it takes, I'll turn those bastards into fish food!"
"Aye, Captain!"
The sailors felt exactly the same. As the Horned Whale pulled steadily away from the enemy, an inexplicable fury simmered through the crew.
"Light it, now!"
HISSSSS
Still using primitive cannons, the enemy was firing them with slow match — meaning a little time was needed after touching the flame before each shot. That was exactly why the Horned Whale had noticed the preparation and picked up speed, trying to slip out of range.
Bang! Ba-bang! Bang!
"Argh! What the—! They're firing back too!"
"Take cover! Get down, I said!"
Aboard the Santa Maria, sailors were dropping one after another from all directions, never even seeing what hit them.
"They're pulling away. Hurry!"
Watching blood spread across the deck, the deck boss grew desperate — the gap was widening.
KRABOOM! BOOM!
But a ship accelerating under sail alone could not simply surge forward, and before they could open much distance, a shot found its mark in the enemy's flank.
"We hit them!"
"Bwahaha!"
"Choke on that!"
Black powder cannons produced a truly monstrous cloud of smoke — the instant after firing, a man couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.
Then the sea breeze scattered the smoke.
"Huh?"
"What the hell?"
There wasn't a hole to be seen. At most, one or two of the larger pieces they'd fired were lodged slightly in the enemy's hull.
"We missed at point-blank range?"
"Son of a..."
Bang! Bang!
One by one, the sailors died to the crack of rifles.
"Reload!"
"Reload what? We couldn't pierce them point-blank — what good will reloading do?"
"Ah—"
The deck boss's stomach dropped. They'd failed to punch through at point-blank range, so what difference would firing from afar make?
"Admiral!"
"Run! Sound the retreat!"
The moment the deck boss called to Columbus, he too grasped the situation and roared for everyone to flee.
Wasn't this a battle with no answer at all?
And with every deafening crash, more sailors fell dead.
Supplies aside, Columbus now worried whether they'd even make it home alive.
"Turn the ship! We must go east, no matter what!"
"Move, if you want to live!"
"AAAAGH!"
Half-panicked, the crew steered the ship onward — surely nothing in their lives had ever mattered to them so desperately.
"They're well clear of us now! At this range, their cannonballs will miss!"
"Thank goodness. Push the speed as high as it'll go!"
The cannons of this era had such abysmal accuracy that a naval battle usually meant a chaotic close-quarters brawl, both sides blasting away at each other from a stone's throw. That was why the attackers believed they held an overwhelming advantage by striking first.
BOOM
Then, from far in the distance, a single cannonball streaked out.
"They're firing a cannon! Watch out!"
WHIIIINE — splash
But that single shot fell into the water just short of their ships, and nothing more followed.
"Huh? What was that? Do they only have one cannon?"
"Right? One measly shot — how do they expect to hit anything with that?"
In a long-range artillery duel, the usual doctrine was to fire grapeshot to kill the crew or wreck the sails and force a surrender, since hitting the hull itself was next to impossible. So the sailors could only wonder at a lone shot, with just a single splash to answer it.
KU-KWA-KWABOOM
In that instant, the Horned Whale opened a full broadside.
The first shot had been a ranging shot to confirm the trajectory. Now, with the angle corrected, the real bombardment would begin.
To the enemy, the distance was far too great to hit with a cannon. But for the Horned Whale with her rifled cannons, once the range was confirmed, she could hit anything she pleased.
SHHHHREEE — CRUNCH — SCREEECH — thud
"AAAAGH! My leg!"
"EEEK!"
The Horned Whale carried only twenty cannons per broadside.
She hadn't been fitted with more — unlike Europe, where fifty or sixty shots might be fired to land five or six. Here, sixteen out of twenty found their mark, and several of those swept clean across the deck.
"What in the world!"
"They've punched holes in the hull!"
"Quick, bring timber — plug the holes!"
The ship erupted into chaos as men scrambled to patch the breaches and clear away the dead.
"They won't be able to fire again for a while. Hurry!"
"Repair the ship and run!"
KWA-KWA-KWABOOM
"What the devil!?"
The sound of cannon fire came again after hardly any time at all. But their own first cannon still hadn't finished reloading — so whose shot was that?
KU-GWA-GWANG
Without mercy, the shells came hammering down on the Santa Maria.
"How already?"
"Cannons could fire this fast?"
"Damn it! The Pinta and the Niña are pulling away!"
With all hope lost, the two smaller ships abandoned the flagship Santa Maria and began to flee. Being caravels, they were far nimbler than the lumbering flagship — if they ran, they might yet live.
It was only a little heartbreaking.
"We must pray those two at least survive to carry the news..."
"Admiral..."
"Everyone, abandon ship! Swim for the nearest shore!"
"Damn it all!"
The surviving sailors threw themselves overboard and began swimming toward the distant coastline.
KWA-GWANG
And behind the merciless bombardment that followed, their flagship — glancing back, they could see it — had already been beaten into driftwood and was sinking.
"How can this..."
Columbus was dumbfounded. Wasn't this a battle that shattered every law of naval warfare they knew? Sinking a ship with long-range bombardment?
Unless a magazine happened to detonate or an unpatchable hole opened below the waterline, such a thing was simply impossible.
"Perhaps I should have just followed them..."
Drowning in belated regret, Columbus swam with all his strength for the shore.
KURURURU
Behind them, the Santa Maria finally slid beneath the waves.
It was as if the hopes of all the Europeans who dreamed of a land of gold were sinking down with her.
"AAAARGH! Kill them all!"
"Captain! Get a hold of yourself!"
"GRAAAH! My ship!"
Aboard the Horned Whale, the sailors were having a terrible time restraining their captain — because he was chasing after the enemy, intent on shooting dead every last one of them as they floundered in the water.
"The sun's about to set, Captain. We have to head back!"
"What if something's wrong with the ship and she's taking on water? Let's hurry back and check!"
"Gah!"
The possibility was slim, but at the sailor's words — that there might still be a problem somewhere — the captain came back to his senses.
"You're right! Let the savages live or die, who cares! Full speed home!"
The Horned Whale swung her bow north and set a course for the nearest base: Wikiwa.
Long after the Daehan warship had vanished over the horizon, two sailing ships returned — come back to search for any surviving comrades.
After circling the waters several times, they spotted their companions waving from the southern shore, hurriedly took them aboard, and set sail once more.
"Admiral!"
"Thank you for coming back for us!"
Columbus had cursed them for abandoning him, but now that they'd returned, he didn't know how to feel grateful enough.
"So... home, then."
"And what will you tell them when we return, Admiral?"
"Hm. I hardly know..."
"But who in the world were they, anyway?"
It was an agonizing question. The language barrier made it impossible to learn who they were; they'd only glimpsed the ships from a distance, so even their appearance was a blur — and they were clearly none of the people he'd seen on the island.
"Haaah..."
"Shall we simply say Daehan attacked us without provocation?"
It was Columbus who held the title of admiral, but the captains too needed something — anything — to cover themselves, and so the words tumbled out.
"Would anyone believe that? And worse — if they ever learn that we attacked first, what then?"
"Phew..."
The voyage home would be spent racking their brains for excuses.
Columbus's road home was anything but smooth. Once the fruit gathered on the island ran out, their provisions dwindled rapidly.
"This is bad..."
"We'll have to catch dolphins. Or sharks."
Catching and eating the poor dolphins that trailed alongside their ships, they pressed on through a grueling passage, never once meeting a single island where they could resupply.
"Uuuugh..."
"Waaaater..."
Hunger alone would not kill them quickly, but running out of water at sea was truly dire — hence the frenzied scrambling to catch every drop whenever rain chanced to fall.
Desperate with thirst, they had drunk their own urine to make it this far. Now their bodies produced none at all.
"Land... land ho..."
Land was visible in the distance, yet there was not a shred of strength in their voices.
They'd gone two days without water and felt as though they could gulp down seawater on the spot.
"To shore... quickly..."
Whether by luck or providence, a harbor appearing before them at that very moment was pure fortune.
And the place where they came ashore was Lisbon, Portugal.
"O God..."
"We're alive."
It wasn't the soil of some unknown land. They had been truly, remarkably lucky.
Once in port, they rushed to the well and drank their fill, then stumbled into a tavern and devoured a meal in a daze.
And it was there that visitors came looking for them.
"Are you Christopher Columbus?"
"I am."
"His Majesty summons you. Come along."
"Yes..."
The man seeking him out served João II — one of the very patrons Columbus had petitioned long ago when seeking backing for his voyage.
Which meant the King knew a good deal about this expedition. And since all manner of rumors had already spread when he departed from Spain, João would surely want to hear his story.
"Your Majesty. I trust you have been well."
"I have fared fine, but it seems the voyage has treated you harshly indeed."
Before João II, Columbus knelt on one knee as they spoke.
"So. Where did your travels take you?"
"I sailed west."
"And did you discover anything?"
Torn for a moment between honesty and lies, Columbus bit his lip hard and began pouring out the truth.
"I discovered an island inhabited by savages of unknown identity."
"Oh?"
João II felt a flicker of disappointment. Apparently Columbus had managed to find little more than an island.
"Accordingly, I intend to claim it as my own territory, and on the next expedition to bring many settlers with me."
"Hm? Isn't that a violation of the treaty?"
"Pardon?"
Columbus evidently knew nothing of the treaty — and realized his mistake a beat too late.
Over this affair, João II would send a formal protest to Isabella I, and the two monarchs would conclude a new pact: the Treaty of Tordesillas.
Without Daehan ever knowing, Europe was busily deciding the ownership of lands that Daehan would never sit idle about.
Thus dawned the great Age of Discovery.