Christopher Columbus

My name is Christopher Columbus, and I am known for sailing across the Atlantic Ocean in 1492, a voyage that connected the worlds of Europe and the Americas. I was born in the bustling port city of Genoa, Italy, around the year 1451. Growing up, the air was always thick with the smell of salt and the sounds of sailors shouting in different languages. From my earliest days, I was captivated by the sea. I would watch the great merchant ships, their sails full of wind, disappearing over the horizon. I dreamed of what lay beyond, in the mysterious lands of the East Indies—places like India, China, and Japan, which were famous for their gold, spices, and silks. As a young man, I became a sailor and a mapmaker, learning everything I could about navigation and the ocean currents. In my time, the only way Europeans knew to get to the East was by a long, dangerous land journey or a difficult sea route around Africa. But I had a different, bolder idea. I had read the works of ancient geographers who believed the world was a sphere. If that was true, I reasoned, then a ship could reach the East by sailing west. Most scholars and sailors of my day thought this was a foolish and impossible plan. They believed the ocean was far too wide to cross, or that it was filled with sea monsters. But I was convinced my calculations were correct, and this belief set me on a course that would change my life, and the world, forever.

My journey to prove my theory was almost as long and difficult as the voyage itself. For nearly a decade, I traveled across Europe, seeking a king or queen who would be bold enough to sponsor my expedition. My first real hope was with King John II of Portugal. In 1485, I presented my detailed plans at his court, as the Portuguese were the world's leading explorers. But his expert advisors dismissed my calculations, claiming the ocean was much larger than I thought. I was turned away, but I refused to let my dream die. I sent my brother, Bartholomew, to plead my case in the courts of England and France, but they too showed no interest. My last hope was Spain. In 1486, I arrived at the court of King Ferdinand of Aragon and Queen Isabella of Castile. They were intrigued by my idea of a western route to the Indies, but their attention was focused on a war to unify their country. For six long years, I waited, pleaded, and argued my case. There were many times I nearly gave up. Finally, in the spring of 1492, just after their victory in the war, Queen Isabella summoned me. She had decided to take a chance. When she and King Ferdinand agreed to fund my voyage, a wave of immense relief and excitement washed over me. After so many years of doubt and rejection, I would finally have my chance to sail into the unknown and prove what I believed in my heart to be true.

On the morning of August 3, 1492, my small fleet of three ships—the Santa María, the Pinta, and the Niña—departed from the port of Palos, Spain. I commanded the larger flagship, the Santa María, as we set our course west into the vast, uncharted waters of the Atlantic, which many called the “Ocean Sea.” For weeks, we sailed with nothing but the sky above and the endless blue sea around us. The crew, brave men though they were, grew fearful. They had never been out of sight of land for so long, and whispers of turning back grew louder. To keep their spirits up, I had to be a firm and convincing leader. I kept two separate logbooks: one with the true distance we traveled, which I kept secret, and another with shorter distances to show the crew so they would not lose hope. I pointed to every sign of nature—a flock of birds, a piece of floating driftwood—as proof that land was near. After more than a month at sea, on the early morning of October 12, 1492, a lookout on the Pinta named Rodrigo de Triana shouted the words we had all been praying to hear: “¡Tierra! ¡Tierra!”—Land! Land! We had reached a small island in what is now the Bahamas. I went ashore, knelt, and gave thanks to God. I believed we had landed on an island off the coast of Asia, so I called the native people who greeted us “Indians.” These people, members of the Taíno tribe, were peaceful and generous, and I was fascinated by their world, which was so completely new to us.

That first voyage was just the beginning. I would sail across the Atlantic three more times, exploring more islands in the Caribbean and even reaching the mainland of South and Central America. The Spanish monarchs appointed me governor of the new territories, but I found that leading men and building colonies was far more difficult than navigating a ship. My time as a ruler was filled with conflict and disappointment. I returned to Spain for the last time in 1504, my health failing. I never did find the grand cities of China or the spice-rich shores of India that I had set out for. In fact, I went to my grave on May 20, 1506, still believing I had reached the outer edges of Asia. It was only later that explorers understood I had encountered an entirely “New World.” Though I did not achieve my original goal, my voyages had a far greater impact than I ever could have foreseen. They created a permanent link between the Eastern and Western Hemispheres, starting an age of exploration and exchange that transformed life on every continent. My journey across the Ocean Sea did not just change the map; it began a new, often difficult, but deeply connected story for all the people of the world.