Disturbing History - DH Ep:46 Christopher Columbus

Episode Date: November 28, 2025

In this comprehensive episode of Disturbing History, we journey back over five centuries to examine the true story of Christopher Columbus, stripping away the mythology that has long obscured one of history's most controversial figures. This is the story they did not teach you in school, the history that was sanitized and romanticized for generations of American schoolchildren who grew up believing Columbus was simply a brave explorer who proved the Earth was round. Christopher Columbus was born in Genoa around 1451, the son of a wool weaver named Domenico Colombo who also operated a cheese stand.Growing up in one of the great maritime powers of the Mediterranean, young Columbus went to sea early and eventually made his way to Portugal, where he married into minor nobility and became obsessed with the idea of reaching Asia by sailing west across the Atlantic. His calculations were wildly optimistic, underestimating the distance to Asia by roughly four times, but this miscalculation would prove fortuitous when two vast continents he never knew existed blocked his path.After being rejected by the Portuguese Crown, whose experts correctly determined that the voyage was too long to be practical, Columbus spent years seeking Spanish patronage. He finally secured backing from Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492, just months after they completed the Reconquista by conquering Granada and signed the Alhambra Decree expelling Jews from Spain. Columbus departed with three ships and approximately ninety men on August 3, 1492, and made landfall in the Bahamas on October 12 of that year. From the very first day of contact with the Taíno people, Columbus's journal reveals his intentions. He described these peaceful people who greeted him with gifts as potential servants, writing that with fifty men he could subjugate them all and make them do whatever he wanted.The seeds of catastrophe were planted in that first moment of encounter. The episode traces Columbus's four voyages to the Americas and documents the systematic exploitation and destruction of the Taíno civilization. We examine the tribute system Columbus implemented, which required every Taíno over age fourteen to deliver a hawk's bell full of gold dust every three months, with brutal punishments for those who failed.We explore the encomienda system of forced labor that worked the Indigenous population to death in Spanish mines and plantations. We document the slave raids that shipped hundreds of Taíno to Spain, with many dying during the Atlantic crossing. The demographic collapse of the Taíno was unprecedented in human history. From a pre-contact population estimated between 250,000 and over a million on Hispaniola alone, the population fell to approximately 60,000 by 1508, then to around 26,000 by 1514, and to fewer than 200 by 1542.The Taíno were declared extinct by Spanish colonial authorities by the early seventeenth century. Modern scholars debate the relative contributions of European diseases versus direct violence and forced labor, but what is beyond dispute is that the systems Columbus created prevented any possibility of demographic recovery. We also examine Columbus's downfall, his arrest in 1500 by Francisco de Bobadilla, who had been sent by the Spanish Crown to investigate complaints about his governance. Bobadilla found evidence of arbitrary punishments, whippings and mutilations inflicted on both Spaniards and Indigenous people, and Columbus's own writings about his desire to sell as many slaves as possible.All three Columbus brothers were placed in chains and shipped back to Spain. Though Columbus's titles were eventually restored, he never again governed the colonies. The episode concludes by examining the contested legacy of Columbus in modern times, from the establishment of Columbus Day as a federal holiday in 1937 to the growing movement to replace it with Indigenous Peoples' Day, which President Biden officially commemorated in 2021. We explore the removal of Columbus statues across America and the ongoing debate about how to remember this complex historical figure. Throughout the episode, we draw on primary sources including Columbus's own journals, the eyewitness accounts of Bartolomé de las Casas, the biography written by Columbus's son Ferdinand, and the work of modern historians who have studied the documentary record. We note where historical evidence is contested and where scholarly debate continues, while making clear that the broad outlines of this catastrophe are not in dispute. This episode runs approximately two hours and contains detailed descriptions of historical violence and atrocities. Listener discretion is advised.The Taíno people, once thought to be completely extinct, have experienced a resurgence in recent decades. DNA studies have confirmed significant Taíno genetic heritage among populations in Puerto Rico, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic, and cultural organizations throughout the Caribbean are working to preserve and revive Taíno traditions. Their story did not end in 1500. It continues today.

some stories were never meant to be told others were buried on purpose this podcast digs them all up disturbing history peels back the layers of the past to uncover the strange the sinister and the stories that were never supposed to survive from shadowy presidential secrets to government experiments that sound more like fiction than fact this is history they hoped you'd forget i'm brian investigator author and your guide through the dark corners of our collective memory. Each week I'll narrate some of the most chilling and little-known tales from history that will make you question everything you thought you knew. And here's the twist. Sometimes the history is disturbing to us. And sometimes we have to disturb history itself

just to get to the truth. If you like your facts with the side of fear, if you're not afraid to pull at threads, others leave alone. You're in the right place. History isn't just written by the victim. Sometimes it's rewritten by The Disturbed. The year is 1493.

The harbor of Seville, Spain is choked with jubilant crowds. Their cheers echoing off the ancient stone walls of the city as church bells ring in triumphant celebration. Word has spread through the streets like wildfire, a tale so extraordinary that even the most cynical merchant or weary dock worker cannot help but crane their neck toward the approaching vessels. Christopher Columbus has returned. The Genoese navigator whom many had dismissed as a fool, a dreamer, a man possessed by

impossible visions, has sailed west into the unknown abyss of the Atlantic Ocean and somehow returned alive, bringing with him news that will reshape the very foundations of the known world. Among the throng of onlookers stands a young boy, perhaps eight or nine years old, his eyes wide with wonder as Columbus parades through the city streets. This boy will grow up to become Bartolome de las Casas, a man who will spend decades documenting what happens next, a man who will fill thousands of pages with testimony so horrifying that even he, the eyewitness who recorded it all, will write that he can hardly believe his own words. But on this day, young Bartolome sees only the pageantry, only the exotic treasures being

displayed, only the bewildered indigenous people whom Columbus has forcibly brought back across the ocean, exhibited like curiosities alongside tropical birds and gold trinkets. The boy cannot know yet that he is witnessing the first act of the greatest demographic catastrophe in human history. This is the story they did not teach you in school. This is the history that was sanitized, romanticized and ultimately buried beneath centuries of mythology. This is the truth about Christopher Columbus,

the man your textbooks called a hero, the man whose federal holiday Americans have celebrated since 1937, the man whose statues have stood in town squares, from New York to San Francisco. But this is also the story of the millions who already called these lands home, the people whose sophisticated civilizations, complex social structures, and rich cultural traditions, were systematically erased from history, along with their very existence.

Columbus did not discover America. Let us be absolutely clear about that from the outset. You cannot discover a place where millions of people already live, any more than I could discover your house while you're sitting in your living room. The lands Columbus reached in 1492 were home to thriving indigenous civilizations, among them the Taino people of the Caribbean, whose population on the island of Hispaniola alone may have numbered between 250,000 and several million people,

depending on which scholarly estimates you follow. These were not primitive savages, as later European propaganda would claim. They were skilled farmers, master navigators, and creators of complex political systems governed by hereditary chiefs called Kaseeks. They had poetry, music, and a rich spiritual tradition. They had lived in the Caribbean for approximately 4,000 years before Columbus ever set sail.

Within 50 years of Columbus's arrival, the Taino would be nearly extinct. Their population would collapse from hundreds of thousands to just a few hundred survivors, victims of what many modern scholars now classify as genocide. The mechanisms of their destruction were brutal and varied, involving forced labor, deliberate starvation, mass executions, sexual violence, and the introduction of European diseases against which the indigenous people had no immunity. And the man who set all of this in motion, the man who personally ordered many of these atrocities, the man who wrote in his own journals about enslaving peaceful people

who had welcomed him with open arms was Christopher Columbus. So settle in. Pour yourself something strong. This is not a comfortable story, and I'll not make it comfortable for you. But it It is a story that demands to be told honestly, completely, and without the protective veil of mythology that has obscured it for over five centuries. By the time we reach the end, you will understand why Columbus was arrested and sent back to Spain in chains by his own government. Why even the brutal Spanish crown of the Inquisition era found his methods too extreme, and why his legacy remains one of the most contested and controversial subjects in modern

historical discourse. Welcome to disturbing history. This is the true story of Christopher Columbus. Christopher Columbus was born sometime between August 25th and October 31st, 1451, in the bustling port city of Genoa, in what is now northwestern Italy. His father, Domenico Colombo, was a wool weaver and small-time merchant who also operated a cheese stand at which young Christopher worked during his childhood. His mother was Susanna Fontanarosa. The family occupied what we might today call the lower middle class, respectable artisans who were neither wealthy nor destitute.

Domenico had apprenticed to the loom at age 11 and had become a third-generation master of his craft, though historical records suggest he was not the most industrious provider. In the boisterous enterprising spirit of Genoa, he also worked at various times as a cheesemaker, tavern keeper, and dealer in wool and wine. Christopher was the oldest of five children, including three brothers, Giovanni Pellegrino, Bartholomew, and Giacomo, who would later be known by the Spanish name Diego, and one sister,

Bianconada. Of these siblings, Bartholomew would prove particularly important to Christopher's later career, eventually helping him plan his voyages and serving as a key administrator in the colonies. Giovanni Pellegrino died young and little is recorded about Bianconeta. The Columbus brothers would remain close throughout their lives, supporting each other through triumphs and disasters alike. Growing up on the coast of Liguria, young Columbus went to sea at an early age, as many Genoese boys did.

Genoa was one of the great maritime powers of the Mediterranean, a city whose wealth and influence flowed directly from its command of the seas. The city's merchants and navigators sailed throughout the known world, from the British Isles to the trading posts of West Africa, from the eastern Mediterranean to the islands of the Atlantic. For a boy with ambition and a taste for adventure, there was no better place to learn the sailors' trade. By his own later account, Columbus first went to sea at the age of 10,

though some historians doubt this claim. We do not know much about Columbus's formal education. His son Ferdinand later claimed that his father had studied at the University of Pavia, but modern historians have found no evidence to support this assertion, and the well-preserved records of Pavia University contain no mention of Columbus. Some scholars speculate that he may have attended a monastery school near Genoa called Paverano, whose name Ferdinand might have confused with Pavia. What we do know is that as an adult, Columbus could read and write in multiple languages,

was widely read in geography, astronomy, and history, and possessed sufficient mathematical skill to perform the navigational calculations necessary for oceanic voyages. He was known to have read many significant books of the time, including the travels of Marco Polo, which would profoundly influence his later ambitions. By the early 1470s, Columbus had begun working as a business agent

for several prominent Genoese merchant families, including the Spinola, Centurion, and Di Negro families. This work took him on trading voyages throughout the Mediterranean and beyond. He sailed to the Greek island of Kios in the Aegean Sea, then under Genoese rule. He visited ports along the coast of North Africa,

including a trip to Tunis and Marseille. According to some accounts, he traveled as far north as the British Isles and possibly even Iceland, though many scholars doubt the latter claim. These voyages gave him practical experience with maritime commerce and expanded his knowledge of sailing conditions in different waters. Documents show that he traded in wine in Genoa in 1470 and in wool in Savona in 1472.

In May of 1476, Columbus's life took a dramatic turn that would set him on the path toward his destiny. He was traveling aboard an armed convoy of Genoese merchant ships, bound for Northern Europe, carrying valuable cargo, when the fleet was attacked by a French war fleet, of at least 13 ships off the coast of Portugal. The battle was vicious and lasted all day. By the time darkness fell, three Genoese vessels and four French ships had been sunk, sending hundreds of men to watery graves. Columbus's own ship caught fire, and the blaze spread so rapidly that the crew could not extinguish it.

Their only option was to abandon ship and cast their fate to the sea. What happened next became the stuff of legend, though the details remain murky. Ferdinand Columbus later wrote that his father, though as much as six miles from shore, managed to reach land by clinging to a floating oar. Other historians dismiss this as dramatic embellishment, noting simply that we do not know how Columbus survived.

What we do know is that he somehow made it to the Portuguese coast and eventually made his way to Lisbon, where he found his brother Bartholomew already established as a cartographer and bookseller. This chance survival, this near-death experience in the waters of the Atlantic, would launch Columbus on the journey that would change the course of human history. Lisbon in the 1470s was the undisputed capital of European maritime exploration. Under the patronage of Prince Henry the Navigator and his successors, Portuguese mariners had been systematically probing the coast of Africa,

pushing ever further south in search of a sea route to the fabled riches of Asia. Portuguese caravals had rounded Cape Borgadour, once thought to mark the edge of the navigable world. They had established trading posts along the gold coast of West Africa. They were on the verge of reaching the southern tip of Africa, and with it, the gateway to the Indian Ocean. For a young man who had nearly died at sea but still felt the call of the ocean, Lisbon was the place to be. Columbus settled in Lisbon and threw himself into this world of maritime exploration, with characteristic intensity. He continued trading for the Centurion family,

and in 1478 was sent on a sugar-buying expedition to Madeira, expanding his experience with Atlantic sailing. Around 1479, he married Felipe Perestrello and Moniz, the daughter of Bartolomeo Perestrello, a Portuguese nobleman of Lombard origin, who had been one of the early colonizers of the Madeira Islands and had served as hereditary captain of Porto Santo. This marriage elevated Columbus's social standing significantly,

connecting him to Portuguese nobility and granting him access to the charts, documents, and accumulated knowledge of Atlantic exploration that Felipe's family possessed. It was during these years in Portugal that Columbus's obsession began to crystallize, pouring over the charts and documents left behind by his father-in-law, studying the latest geographical theories, absorbing rumors and reports from sailors who had ventured into the Atlantic, Columbus became convinced of an idea that would consume the rest of his life. He believed that the riches of Asia, the silks of China, the spices of the East Indies, the legendary gold of Japan described by Marco Polo, could be reached by sailing west across the Atlantic Ocean.

Among the documents he obtained was a letter from the Florentine cosmographer Paolo Dalpozzo Toscanelli, dated June 25, 1474, which described how one might travel to the east by sailing west from Europe, along with a map incorporating Toscanelli's theories. The idea was not original to Columbus. Educated Europeans had known since ancient times that the earth was spherical. The question was not whether one could theoretically reach Asia by sailing west, but whether such a voyage was practically possible. Most geographers believed correctly that the distance was simply too vast. The great Eritosthenes had calculated the Earth's circumference more than 1,500 years earlier, and his estimate was remarkably accurate,

about 25,000 miles. By those calculations, a ship sailing west from Europe would have to cross thousands upon thousands of miles of open ocean before reaching any landmass. Columbus, however, believed the experts were wrong. Through a combination of wishful thinking, selective reading, and mathematical errors, he had convinced himself that the Earth was much smaller than the geographers claimed, and that Asia extended much further east than the map showed. He relied on the estimates of the medieval geographer Pierre Daiyi, whose figures significantly underestimated the earth size. He believed the voyage from the Canary Islands to Japan was only about 2,400 nautical miles, roughly four times too low by actual measurements.

Stay tuned for more disturbing history. We'll be back after these messages. This colossal miscalculation would prove fortuitous, for had Columbus known the true distance, he likely never would have attempted the voyage. As it happened, two vast continents that no European of his era knew existed would conveniently block his path long before he could exhaust his supplies. In 1480, Felipe gave birth to a son, Diego, who would later play a significant role in the Columbus family's affairs in the new world. But tragedy followed close behind. Philippa died sometime in the early 1480s, possibly in 1485, while Columbus was away at sea.

The exact circumstances of her death are not recorded, leaving us with yet another gap in our knowledge of Columbus's personal life. Some historians have suggested that the death of his wife freed Columbus to pursue his obsession with single-minded intensity, no longer bound by family. obligations in Portugal. In 1484 Columbus approached King John the 2nd of Portugal with his bold proposal. He sought ships, men, and supplies to sail west across the Atlantic and reach the Indies. Given that Columbus had lived in Portugal for nearly a decade, had married into Portuguese nobility, and had gained considerable experience on

Portuguese trading voyages, this seemed the natural court to which he would present his scheme. Columbus was asking not merely for funding, but for a commitment that would make him, if successful, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in Europe. King John was interested enough to submit the proposal to a Royal Commission of Experts, including astronomers and mathematicians, headed by a man named Diogo Ortiz.

The Commission's verdict was devastating. They rejected Columbus's plan, but not contrary to popular myth, because they believed the Earth was flat. The learned scholars of 15th century Europe knew perfectly well that the world was spherical. Scholars in literally all of the major universities of Europe at that time taught that the earth was round.

The flat earth myth is a fable that refuses to die in an otherwise enlightened world. Their objection was that Columbus had grossly underestimated the distance to Asia. They believed correctly that the voyage he proposed would be far too long for any ship to complete without running out of provisions. The Atlantic Ocean, they insisted, was simply too vast to cross. The rejection was a crushing blow to Columbus. His wife had recently died, leaving him a widower with a young son. His grand scheme had been dismissed as impractical fantasy, as vain,

simply founded on imagination, or on things like that Isle Sapango of Marco Polo, as one contemporary put it. Seeing no future for himself in Portugal, Columbus decided to try his luck elsewhere. According to some accounts, King John secretly sent a vessel to test Columbus's theory after rejecting his proposal, but the ship returned without reaching any shore. In 1485 or 1486, Columbus packed up his belongings, gathered his son Diego, and departed for the neighboring kingdom of Castile, in what is now central Spain.

The Spain that Columbus entered was in the midst of historic transformation. Ferdinand II of Aragon and Isabella I of Castile, the so-called Catholic monarchs, had married in 1469, effectively uniting the two most powerful kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula. Together, they were waging the Granada War, the final campaign of the centuries-long Reconquista to drive the Muslim moors from Spanish soil. The war had begun in 1482 and would last a full decade, consuming enormous resources and attention. They had established the Spanish Inquisition in 1478 to root out heresy and enforce religious conformity, appointing the Dominican friar Tomas de Torquemada as Grand Inquisitor.

And they were desperately seeking ways to compete with Portugal's growing dominance of the lucrative trade routes to Africa, and eventually, Asia. Columbus managed to secure an audience with Queen Isabella in 1486 and presented his proposal. Like King John before her, Isabella was intrigued by the possibilities, but cautious about the practicalities. The potential rewards were enormous. If Columbus was right, Spain could bypass Portuguese control of the African route and reach the riches of Asia directly. She referred the matter to a committee of scholars headed by Hernando de Talavera,

who, like their Portuguese counterparts, concluded that Columbus had grossly underestimated the distance to Asia and that the voyage was impractical. The committee's decision was based upon three considerations. First, that the ancient estimate of the earth's circumference was correct. Second, that Columbus's estimate of the width of the Atlantic Ocean was too small. And third, that the voyage would simply take too long for any ship to complete. But Isabella did not entirely close the door.

Perhaps sensing Columbus's determination, or perhaps recognizing the potential value of keeping her options open while Portugal pressed forward, with African exploration. She provided him with a small allowance totaling about 14,000 Moravities for the year, enough to sustain him at court, while the matter remained under consideration. Columbus would spend nearly six years

in this agonizing limbo, pressing his case whenever opportunity arose, watching enviously as Portugal's explorers crept ever closer to rounding the southern tip of Africa. During these years of waiting, Columbus established a relationship with a young woman in Cordoba named Beatriz Enrique de Arana. She was not of noble birth, and Columbus never married her,

but in 1488 she bore him a son named Ferdinand, who would later accompany his father on voyages and eventually write a biography of him. Columbus legitimized Ferdinand, ensuring that both his sons would share in whatever fortune might come his way. The reasons Columbus did not marry Beatrice remain unclear. Perhaps he hoped to make a more advantageous match, or perhaps his obsession with his enterprise left no room for such considerations. In 1488, growing desperate after years of rejection in Spain, Columbus returned briefly to Portugal to try once more with King John II. His timing could not

have been worse. While Columbus waited at the Portuguese court, the navigator Bartolomeo Dia sailed into Lisbon Harbor with epical news. He had rounded the Cape of Good hope at the southern tip of Africa and proved that a sea route to the Indian Ocean was possible. Portugal no longer needed Columbus' untested western route. They had found their path to Asia. Columbus returned to Spain empty-handed once more, his dreams seemingly further from realization than ever. A second Spanish royal commission in 1491 again rejected Columbus's proposal. Weary and frustrated, Columbus began making preparations to leave Spain all all together and present his case to King Charles the 8th of France.

But then, in January 1492, everything changed. The conquest of Granada transformed the political landscape and opened new possibilities for the persistent Genoese navigator. On January 2nd, 1492, Ferdinand and Isabella achieved the crowning triumph of their reign. After 10 years of warfare, the city of Granada, the last stronghold of Moorish rule in Spain, surrendered. Muhammad the 12th, known to the Spanish as Boabdil, handed over the keys of the Alhambra Palace and went into exile. The reconquista was complete.

780 years of Muslim presence on the Iberian Peninsula had come to an end. The Catholic monarchs rode triumphantly into the city, and the principal mosque was consecrated as a church. Pope Alexander the 6th would grant them the title Los Reyes Catalicos, the Catholic monarchs, for completing the Reconquista. Flusch with victory and freed from the financial burden of the Granada War, Ferdinand and Isabella were now in a position to consider new ventures. Just three months after entering Granada, spurred by the interventions of the Spanish treasurer Luis de Santangelo

and the Franciscan friars of La Rabida, particularly Juan Perez, who had been one of the Queen's confessors, the monarchs reversed course and agreed to sponsor Columbus's expedition. By some accounts, Columbus had already set off for France when a royal messenger caught up with him and summoned him back to court. The timing was not coincidental. Just days after the fall of Granada, on March 31, 1492, Ferdinand and Isabella signed the Alhambra decree,

ordering the mass expulsion of all Jews from Spain who refused to convert to Christianity. The Jews were given four months to leave, and they were forbidden to take gold, silver, money, arms, or horses with them. Estimates suggest that between 40,000 and 200,000 Jews fled Spain, many to North Africa, Italy, or the Ottoman Empire, where Sultan Biasid II famously welcomed them. Those who remained converted to Christianity, becoming conversos who would remain under suspicion of secretly practicing Judaism for generations to come. The Inquisition would continue to investigate and punish alleged judaizers for centuries. This was the Spain that sponsored Christopher Columbus.

A nation forged in religious warfare, purged of religious minorities, convinced of its divine mission to spread Christianity to the farthest corners of the world. The documents that Columbus signed with the crown in April 1492, known as the capitulations of Santa Fe, reflect this crusading spirit. Columbus was granted the titles of Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Viceroy, and Governor General of any lands he might discover. He was promised one-tenth of all revenues from those lands, as well as one-eighth of the profits from any trading voyages, if he contributed one-eighth of the costs. And he was charged not merely with finding a new trade route, but with spreading the Catholic

faith to whatever peoples he might encounter. He was also granted noble status, elevated the Woolweaver's son to the ranks of Spanish aristocracy. The stage was set. After nearly two decades of dreaming, calculating, and pleading, Christopher Columbus had finally secured the backing he needed. The voyage that would change the world was about to begin. On August 3, 1492, three small ships slipped out of the Spanish port of Palos de la Frontera, their sails catching the morning breeze as they headed south toward the Canary Islands. The royal decree that had authorized the expedition specified that the town of Palos, as penance for some offense against the crown, was required to provide two of the vessels.

The flagship was the Santa Maria, a merchant ship called a Now or Karok, about 62 feet long on deck and rated at roughly 100 tons. She was commanded by Columbus himself, though her owner, Juan de la Cosa, sailed aboard as well. The Santa Maria was the largest of the three vessels, but she was supposed to be. slow and clumsy compared to her companions, a trait that would eventually prove her undoing. Columbus himself did not think much of her, later writing that she was not a ship fit for discovery. The two smaller ships were caravels, a type of vessel that had become the workhorse of Portuguese exploration during the previous decades. The Penta, whose name means the painted one,

was known as the fastest of the fleet. She was captained by Martine Alonzo Pinson, an experience Mariner from the nearby town of Mogher, whose reputation and local connections had been crucial in recruiting crew members for the expedition. The Nina, whose official name was Santa Clara, was the smallest and most maneuverable of the three. She was captained by Martin's brother, Vicente Janje's Pinson. A third Pinson brother, Francisco Martine, served as pilot aboard the Pina. These caravels were light, nimble ships with shallow drafts that could navigate close to coastlines and explore shallow waters, exactly the qualities that would be needed for exploring unknown shores. The total crew numbered approximately 90 men, though some historians cite figures as high

as 120. The Santa Maria carried about 40 men, the Penta 26, and the Nina 24. Contrary to the popular myth that Columbus sailed with jailbirds and criminals, most of his crew were experienced seamen from the port town of Palos and the surrounding coastal region of Andalusia and Galicia. It is true that the Spanish sovereigns had offered amnesty to convicts who signed up for the voyage, but only four men actually took up this offer. One had killed a man in a fight, and the other three were friends who had helped him escape from jail. The rest of the crew were professional sailors who had been recruited by the Pinsan brothers, whose reputation and local connections proved invaluable in assembling the expedition.

Life aboard these ships would have been by modern standards, almost unbearably cramped and uncomfortable. The Santa Maria, being a cargo ship rather than a vessel designed for long voyages, at least had small cabins where sailors could sleep between their eight-hour shifts. The Nina and Penta had only a single small deck at the rear of the ship, with one cramped cabin reserved for the captain. The ordinary sailors slept wherever they, could find space on deck and went below only if the weather was bad. There were no hammocks

yet. Those would be adopted from the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean. The men simply found a spot on the deck, wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and tried to get what rest they could between watches. The crew worked in four-hour shifts. Their duties including pumping the bilge, cleaning the deck, working the sails and checking the ropes and cargo. When off-duty, they slept anywhere they could find space. Columbus himself often went days without sleep, particularly when navigating challenging waters or approaching land. Only the captain had private quarters.

The sailors received one hot meal a day, cooked over an open fire in a sandbox on deck. Their diet consisted of ship's biscuit, hard tack that had to be soaked in water or wine to be edible, pickled or salted meat, dried peas, cheese, wine, and whatever fish they could catch fresh. Stay tuned for more disturbing history.

We'll be back after these messages. Freshwater was a precious and carefully rationed resource. Religion was the central focus of their lives. Every day began with prayers and hymns at dawn and ended with religious services in the evening. The crew would have understood their voyage in explicitly religious terms as a mission to spread the Christian faith and bring glory to God. Whatever secular motives, gold, spices, glory, drove Columbus and his patrons, the ordinary seamen

would have seen themselves as soldiers of Christ sailing into the unknown. The ship's boys sang religious songs to mark the turning of the half-hour sandglass that measured time aboard ship. The fleet stopped at the Canary Islands for repairs and reprovisioning. The Pinta's rudder had been damaged shortly after departure, possibly sabotaged by the ship's owner Cristobo Quintero, who may have had second thoughts about lending his vessel to such a risky venture. The rudder needed to be replaced on the island of Grand Canaria, and the Nina's Latin sails were re-rigged to standard square sails, better suited for the trade winds Columbus expected to find on the open ocean. Fresh provisions were taken aboard, including

wood, water, and food. By September 6th, the repairs were complete, and the fleet departed from San Sebastian de la Gamera on the final leg of their journey into the unknown. The Atlantic crossing itself was surprisingly uneventful, a testament to Columbus's skill in choosing his route and timing. He had shrewdly chosen to sail first to the Canaries, positioning his fleet at roughly the same latitude as Japan, according to his calculations, and placing them to catch the northeast trade winds that would push them steadily westward. These winds, which blow reliably across the Atlantic in the subtropical zone became Columbus's highway to the new world. The weather was fair, the winds favorable, and the sea relatively calm. By sailing directly west on the trade winds,

Columbus risked running into either the doldrums or a tropical cyclone, but by chance, he avoided both hazards. According to the abstract of his journal preserved by Bartolome de Las Casas, Columbus recorded two sets of distances each day, one that he shared with his crew and one that he kept private. Las Casas originally interpreted this as deliberate deception, Columbus reporting shorter distances to his crew to prevent them from worrying about how far they had sailed from home and growing mutinous. Some modern scholars dispute this interpretation, suggesting it may simply reflect Columbus using two different systems of measurement. The Portuguese Maritime League familiar to his crew, crew and his own preferred system.

Whatever the explanation, the practice suggests the tension that pervaded the voyage. As the weeks passed and no land appeared, the crew grew increasingly anxious. They had been at sea for longer than most of them had ever experienced, sailing into waters where no European ship had ever ventured. Columbus's calculations had predicted they would reach the Indies in a matter of weeks, but week after week passed with nothing but empty ocean on all horizons. The men began to murmur. Some urged Columbus to turn back before they ran out of provisions. Some whispered that the admiral had led them to their deaths in pursuit of a madman's dream.

The Pinsan brothers, particularly Martine Alonzo, grew restive. Columbus recorded signs that land might be near, branches and plants floating in the water, flocks of birds flying overhead, particularly the appearance of land birds that would not venture far from shore. Whether these signs were genuine or whether Columbus was embellishing his journal to maintain morale, we cannot know for certain. On October 7th, acting on Martina Alonzo-Penzon's suggestion that they follow a flock of birds

flying toward the southwest, Columbus changed course. This decision, made on the advice of his most experienced captain, would prove crucial. What we do know is that by early October, the tension had reached a breaking point. According to some accounts, Columbus promised his crew that if they did not cite land within three days, they would turn back. Whether he would have honored this promise, we will never know. In the early hours of October 12, 1492, at approximately 2 in the morning, a lookout aboard the Pina named Rodrigo de Triana spotted moonlight reflecting off white sand beaches in the distance and cried out the long-awaited words.

land had been cited five weeks after leaving the canary islands after crossing some three thousand miles of open ocean Columbus's fleet had reached the Americas Columbus himself later claimed that he had seen a light the evening before possibly a torch on shore and thereby claimed the reward that had been promised to the first man to sight land whether this claim was genuine or simply a way of securing the reward for himself has been debated ever since The island they had reached was called Guantanahani by its inhabitants, the Lukaian branch of the Taino people, who were the first New World people encountered by Europeans since the Norse explorations of North America centuries earlier. Columbus promptly renamed it San Salvador, Holy Savior, and claimed it for Spain, planting a flag and reading a formal proclamation of possession,

a ceremony that was utterly meaningless to the indigenous people who had lived there for generations. The exact identity of this first landfall remains disputed among historians. The original Guantanai may have been modern-day San Salvador Island in the Bahamas, formerly known as Watling Island, or Samanakei, or one of several other candidates. The debate continues to this day. Columbus's first encounter with the Taino people was, by his own account, remarkably peaceful. The indigenous people swam out to meet the strange ships and greeted the foreigners with curiosity and generosity.

Columbus wrote in his journal that they brought the Spaniard's parrots and balls of cotton and spears and many other things, which they exchanged for glass beads and hawks' bells. He described them as well-built, with good bodies and handsome features. They were, he noted, very gentle, and without knowledge of what is evil. They did not bear arms and did not know them, for when he showed them a sword, they took it by the edge and cut themselves out of ignorance. They had no iron and made their spears of cane. These observations might have prompted a man of different character

to treat these peaceful people with kindness and respect. But Columbus's very next sentences revealed the calculating mind of a conquistador. They would make fine servants, he wrote. With 50 men, we could subjugate them all and make them do whatever we want. From the very first day of contact, Columbus was already thinking, in terms of conquest, domination, and exploitation. The seeds of the catastrophe to come were planted in that first moment of encounter. The Taino people Columbus encountered were part of a sophisticated civilization

that had inhabited the Caribbean islands for approximately 4,000 years. They had migrated from South America, probably from the Orinoco Valley region of present-day Venezuela, moving northward through the lesser Antilles to the greater Antilles. They were skilled agriculturalists whose basic food crops, corn, manioc, and beans, were supplemented by hunting and fishing. They cultivated tobacco, which they smoked in pipes and cigars, giving the world a habit that would spread across the globe. They had developed complex political structures governed by hereditary chiefs called Kaseeks, some of whom were women. They had religious traditions centered on the worship of spirits called Zemis, represented by elaborate carved, figures. They were master navigators who traveled between islands and large dugout canoes,

capable of holding dozens of people. They had their own languages, their own art, their own poetry and music. At the time of Columbus's arrival in 1492, there were five Taino chiefdoms on the island of Hispaniola alone, each led by a principal Cacique. The largest population centers may have contained over 3,000 people each. The Taino had trade networks connecting different islands and maintained complex relationships with neighboring peoples, including the Caribs of the lesser Antilles, with whom they were frequently at war. Their society was divided into two classes, Naborius or commoners, and Nitainos or nobles. They lived in villages centered around a central plaza used for ceremonies

and the ball game called Bate, which had religious and political significance. Columbus was not interested in learning about Taino culture. He was interested in gold. Noting the small gold ornaments that some of the Taino wore in their ears and noses, Columbus immediately became fixated on finding the source of this gold. He wrote obsessively about gold in his journal, mentioning it dozens of times in the first few days of exploration. He took some of the Taino prisoner on that very first day

and insisted that they guide him to wherever this gold came from. The peaceful inhabitants who had greeted him with gifts and friendship found themselves within hours of first contact, forcibly pressed into service as guides and interpreters for their own exploitation. Over the following weeks, Columbus explored the Caribbean, visiting several islands in the Bahamas before reaching the northern coast of Cuba on October 28. He was convinced that Cuba was a peninsula of the Asian mainland, the Cathay of Marco Polo's accounts, and spent weeks searching for the grand cities and wealthy courts described in the European travel literature.

The Taino told him stories of a great cacique in the interior, and Columbus convinced himself this must be the great Khan of China. He sent delegations into the interior to find these cities. They found only villages of peaceful indigenous people living in Bohios, small houses made of wood and palm leaves, and extensive fields of cultivated crops. The great emperor and his golden palace existed only in Columbus's imagination. On December 6th, Columbus reached the island the Taino called Bojillo, or Kiskaya,

which he renamed La Española, or Hispaniola, meaning the Spanish island. This is the island that today comprises the nations of Haiti and the Dominican Republic. It would become the epicenter of Columbus's atrocities and the site of the near complete destruction of the Taino people. Columbus was immediately impressed by Hispaniola's size and apparent wealth. The Taino here seemed to have more gold ornaments than those of the Bahamas. He began to believe he had finally found the source of the gold he so desperately sought. Columbus found the Taino of Hispaniola, like those of the other islands, to be friendly and welcoming. He established relations with a local cacique named Guacanagaregs, who provided the Spaniards with food and assistance.

Columbus wrote that no one who saw this people could believe that anyone in the world could be more peaceful. But on Christmas Eve, 1492, disaster struck. Columbus had been awake for two days and finally went to sleep, leaving the Santa Maria in the hands of a helmsman who also fell asleep and handed the wheel to an inexperienced ship's boy. In the darkness, the Santa Maria ran aground on a sandbar near modern-day Capaitia and could not be freed despite desperate efforts by the crew. With his flagship lost, Columbus had to leave some of his crew behind.

Using timbers salvaged from the wrecked Santa Maria, the Spaniards built a small fort, which Columbus named La Navidad, the Nativity, in honor of the Christmas season. Guacanagarex provided workers to help with the construction and offered food and assistance. Columbus left 39 men behind with instructions to search for gold, establish friendly relations with the Taino, and await his return. return. He set sail for Spain aboard the Nina on January 16th, 1493. The Penta, which had separated from the fleet in November when Martine Alonso Pinson went off searching for gold on his own, rejoined them for the return voyage. The men left at La Navidad would not survive to see Columbus's return.

Columbus returned to Spain in triumph. He arrived first in Lisbon in March 1493, where he met with the Portuguese king John II, who had rejected his proposal nine years earlier. The king was not pleased to learn that Spain might have found a western route to the Indies. Columbus then proceeded to Barcelona, where Ferdinand and Isabella held court, and was received with honor and celebration. He brought with him samples of gold, exotic plants and animals, including parrots and tropical fruits, and several Taino people whom he had forcibly taken from their homes to be displayed as curiosities. These captives were paraded through the streets, baptized by the Spanish Church and exhibited at

court. The age of European colonization of the Americas had begun. Columbus's second voyage was an expedition of colonization on a scale that dwarfed the first. Ferdinand and Isabella equipped him with 17 ships and approximately 1,200 men, including soldiers with cavalry and war dogs. farmers, craftsmen, and priests. Among the passengers were noblemen seeking fortune, administrators to establish colonial government,

and even miners to extract the gold that Columbus had promised in such abundance. This was no mere voyage of exploration. This was an invasion force designed to establish permanent Spanish control over the lands Columbus had claimed, and to extract whatever wealth they contained. The fleet departed Kades on September 25, 1493, and made a swift crossing of the Atlantic, arriving in the Caribbean in just over three weeks. Columbus first explored several islands in the lesser Antilles, including Dominica, Guadalupe,

and Puerto Rico, where he encountered the Caribs, whom the Taino had described as fierce warriors and cannibals. Modern scholars debate whether the Spanish exaggerated or fabricated accounts of carib cannibalism to justify enslaving them, as Spanish law allowed the enslavement of cannibals, but not of peaceful peoples. Stay tuned for more disturbing history. We'll be back after these messages. Columbus was eager to categorize as many indigenous peoples as possible

as legitimate targets for slavery. Columbus then headed for Hispaniola to check on the men he had left at La Navidad. What he found when he arrived on November 27th, 1493, was a scene of destruction. The fort had been burned, to the ground. All 39 men were dead. Their bodies scattered around the ruins or found buried in shallow graves. According to the accounts that emerged from questioning the local

Taino, the men Columbus had left behind had not followed his instructions. Far from maintaining peaceful relations with the Taino and searching for gold, they had formed factions, fought among themselves, raped indigenous women, stolen from the native people, and provoked violent confrontations. They had scattered across the island in search of gold and women, alienating even their ally Guacanagarex. Finally, a coalition of Caciques led by Kaonabou, chief of the Maguana region, had united to destroy the settlement. Columbus chose not to retaliate against Guacanagarex, who claimed to have been wounded trying to defend the Spaniards, but the stage was set for escalating conflict. Columbus established a new settlement named La Isabella in honor of the queen,

on the northern coast of Hispaniola and began the systematic exploitation of the island. He sent expeditions into the interior to search for gold. He ordered the construction of fortifications throughout the territory. He established a system of forced labor that required indigenous people to work in Spanish mines and on Spanish farms. And when the Taino resisted, as they inevitably did,

he responded with overwhelming violence. The first major resistance came from the Ta'eino, of the Chibao region, in the interior of Hispaniola, where gold deposits had been found. In early 1495, Columbus assembled a force of approximately 200 Spanish soldiers armed with crossbows, and swords, 20 cavalry with lances, and an unknown number of ferocious war dogs, called Mastiffs, which had been bred and trained specifically to attack and kill human beings. He also recruited warriors from the one Kaseek, who had allied with the war. the Spanish Guacanagarex and marched against a coalition of Taino forces led by Guadiguana

and other chiefs who had gathered to resist Spanish rule. The Taino, armed primarily with wooden spears, clubs, and throwing sticks, were no match for Spanish steel, horses and dogs. They had never seen horses before and initially believed horse and rider to be a single terrifying creature. The dogs were even more horrifying bred to hunt down and kill humans on command. The battle was a massacre. The Spaniards systematically slaughtered the Taino forces and pursued survivors through the countryside. Columbus's son Ferdinand later wrote that the Spanish thought nothing of knifing Indians by tens and 20s and of cutting slices off them to test the sharpness of their blades.

Bartolome de las Casas, drawing on eyewitness accounts, described how the Spanish would make bets as to who could cut a person in half with a single stroke of the sword, or cut off a head with one blow. They burned Taino villages. They fed indigenous people to their war dogs for sport. They hanged and burned those who resisted. Within nine months of this campaign, the Taino had been forced to surrender.

Columbus captured the leading Cacique Kaonabot through treachery, luring him into accepting what he was told was a gift, but was actually a set of manacles, then taking him prisoner. He sent Kaonabot and his family, to Spain and chains. Cowanabeau died during the voyage. Columbus then implemented a system of tribute

that would ensure the continued exploitation of the surviving Taino population. Every Taino over the age of 14 was required to deliver a hawks bell full of gold dust every three months. A hawks bell was a small bell, roughly the size of a thimble, used in falconry. It was not a large amount of gold

by European standards, but gold was not abundant in Hispanic. And for the Taino, who had never organized their society around gold mining, and had only gathered the metal from surface deposits for ornamental use, the quota was nearly impossible to meet. The gold simply did not exist in the quantities Columbus demanded. The punishment for failing to meet the quota was, according to some accounts, having one's hands cut off and being left to bleed to death. Columbus would have a metal token hung around the neck of each Taino who paid the tribute,

and those found without tokens were subjected to brutal punishment. Some historians have disputed the specific claim about cutting off hands, noting that the primary sources are not entirely clear on this point, and some evidence suggests that the tribute system and its enforcement may have been imposed by local caciques acting under Spanish pressure, rather than directly by Columbus himself. But what is beyond dispute is that the tribute system was brutally enforced, that the Taino suffered grievously.

under Spanish rule, and that those who could not produce gold were punished severely. In regions where gold was scarce, the taino were allowed to pay tribute in cotton instead, but this was little relief from their suffering. When the gold ran out, as it quickly did in most areas, the taino were put to work in other ways. Columbus implemented the Encomienda system, a form of forced labor inherited from the Spanish reconquest of the Iberian Peninsula, under which indigenous people, were assigned to individual Spanish colonists who were responsible for their supposed Christianization in exchange for the right to exploit their labor. In

practice, this was slavery in all but name. The Incommendero had complete control over the labor of his assigned indigenous people and could work them to death with impunity. The Taino were worked mercilessly in Spanish mines and on Spanish plantations. They were separated from their families with men sent to the mines while women were kept to work the fields. They were starved. Their traditional agricultural lands converted to Spanish crops and methods. They were beaten. They were raped. Some in desperation resorted to mass suicide, drinking cassava poison to escape their suffering. Some mothers killed their own children rather

than let them grow up in bondage. Las Casas recorded that some Taino, when asked why they refused Christian baptism, replied that if Christians went to heaven, they wanted to go somewhere somewhere else. Columbus also began shipping Taino people to Spain to be sold as slaves. In February 1495, he loaded approximately 1,600 Taino onto ships bound for Spain, selecting the 500 best specimens for the slave markets of Seville. Of these 500, some 200 died during the Atlantic crossing, their bodies thrown overboard. The survivors were sold as slaves by the Archdeacon of Seville, who reported that although the slaves were naked, as the day they were born.

They showed no more embarrassment than animals. Columbus wrote to the monarchs, Let us in the name of the Holy Trinity go on sending all the slaves that can be sold. But the Spanish crown was not entirely comfortable with this trade. Queen Isabella in particular had religious scruples about enslaving people who might be converted to Christianity.

The legal status of the indigenous peoples was unclear. Were they infidels who could legitimately be enslaved, like the Moors, or were they potential converts who should be protected as subjects of the crown? Isabella eventually ordered that Taino brought to Spain be returned to their homeland. This did not end the exploitation of indigenous labor in the Caribbean, which continued under the Encomienda system and other forms of coerced labor, but it did curtail the transatlantic slave trade in indigenous people. Columbus had an economic interest in the enslavement of the Hispaniola natives,

and for that reason was not eager to baptize them, which attracted criticism from some churchmen. There was also the matter of sexual exploitation. Contemporary accounts, including letters from Columbus' own associates, described the widespread sexual abuse of taino women and girls by Spanish colonists. Michel de Cunio, an Italian nobleman who sailed with Columbus on the second voyage, left a chilling account of how Columbus gave him a carib woman as a gift, and how he beat and raped her when she resisted.

Columbus's own reported words suggest that girls as young as nine or ten were being trafficked. While we lack direct proof of Columbus personally committing rape, his complicity in the sexual enslavement of indigenous women and girls is strongly supported by the historical record. The combined effects of Spanish brutality, forced labor, deliberate starvation, and mass dislocation would have been catastrophic enough. But the Taino faced another enemy even more deadly than Spanish steel, European diseases, smallpox, measles, influenza, typhus,

and other infectious diseases to which the indigenous people had no immunity swept through the Caribbean like wildfire. A wave of disease broke out simultaneously with the arrival of the second Spanish expedition in late 1494, and several observers suggested a loss of a third to half of the population within that short period. The first documented smallpox epidemic struck Hispaniola in December 1518 or January 1519,

killing an estimated 90% of the remaining Taino population. The demographic collapse was staggering, unprecedented in human history in its speed and completeness. Estimates of the pre-contact Taino population of Hispaniola vary widely, from 100,000 at the low end to over a million at the high end.

and, with most modern scholars settling somewhere in the range of 250,000 to 500,000. By 1508, according to a report by the Spanish official Miguel de Pasamont, the population had fallen to approximately 60,000. By 1510, Diego Columbus, Christopher's son, who had become governor, reported 33, thousand five hundred twenty-three. By 1514, a census recorded only 26,334 Taino, remaining on the island. By 1518 through 1519, the number was down to approximately 18,000. By 1542, fewer than 200 survived. By the early 17th century, the Taino were declared extinct by Spanish colonial authorities. The priest Bartolome de las Casas wrote that from 14th In 1494 to 1508, over 3 million people had perished from war, slavery, and the mines.

Modern scholars debate the relative contributions of disease versus direct violence to this catastrophe. Some argue that epidemic disease was the overwhelming cause of population decline, and that the Taino would have suffered massive mortality, even if the Spanish had treated them with kindness. The indigenous peoples of the Americas had been isolated from the disease pools of Europe, Asia and Africa for thousands of years and had no immunity to common old world pathogens. Others, including historian Andres Resendez of the University of California, Davis, argue that disease alone does not explain the destruction. The populations of Europe, after all, rebounded following the black death,

which killed a third to half of Europe's population in the 14th century. The Taino did not rebound because they were simultaneously being worked to death. deliberately starved and hunted down when they tried to resist. The bondage systems, the incommendas, and other forms of coerced labor prevented any possibility of demographic recovery. The supply of food became so low in 1495 and 1496 that some 50,000 died from famine, as taino cultivation was converted to Spanish methods and some taeino, in hopes of frustrating their oppressors, refused to plant or harvest their crops.

The Spanish worked them at such a ferocious pace that one-third of the laborers died from exhaustion within eight months. In desperation, many Taino began to commit suicide. Others fled to the mountains, where they were hunted down by Spanish soldiers and their war dogs. The system was designed not merely to extract labor, but to destroy any possibility of resistance. And it succeeded. Las Casas, who arrived in Hispaniola in 1502, and spent the rest of his life documented, what he had witnessed, left a harrowing account of Spanish atrocities. He wrote of Spaniards who knifed Indians by tens and 20s and of cutting slices off them to test the sharpness of their

blades. He recorded stories of Spanish soldiers who met two Taino boys carrying parrots, seized the parrots, and beheaded the boys for fun. He described how the Spanish roasted indigenous people alive over slow fires, how they threw babies against rocks and into rivers while laughing, how they cut off pieces of living people for entertainment. He wrote, I saw here cruelty on a scale no living being has ever seen or expects to see. My eyes have seen these acts so foreign to human nature that now I tremble as I write. Las Casas' accounts have been criticized by some historians as exaggerated, written by a man who had a political agenda of reform and needed to shock his readers into action.

The specific numbers he cited are often doubted, as the population estimates before and after contact, remain controversial. But the broad outlines of his testimony have been confirmed by other sources, including accounts by Spanish colonists, who saw nothing wrong with what they were doing and reported their actions matter-of-factly. Even some of Las Casas' enemies, such as Toribio de Benevente Motelina, reported many gruesome atrocities committed against the Indians, by the colonizers. The genocide of the Taino was not a secret. It was policy. And at the center of it all stood Christopher Columbus,

Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Viceroy and Governor of the Indies, the man who had set the whole machinery of destruction in motion. Stay tuned for more disturbing history. We'll be back after these messages. Columbus did not personally commit most of the atrocities that occurred in the Caribbean. He was often away on expeditions of exploration while his subordinates carried out the day-to-day

work of exploitation. But he created the systems under which these atrocities occurred. He implemented the tribute system. He authorized the incommienda. He personally ordered slave raids and signed off on the shipment of indigenous people to Spain. He punished both Spaniards and indigenous people with whippings and mutilation, cutting off ears and noses as punishment for various offenses. And when complaints about his governance reached the Spanish crown, the investigators who came to examine his record found evidence so damning that they arrested him

and sent him back to Spain in chains. By 1500, the colony Columbus had established in Hispaniola was fracturing. Spanish colonists complained bitterly about his administration. They accused him and his brothers Bartholomew and Diego, who served as his lieutenants of tyranny, cruelty, corruption, and favoritism toward his fellow Italians at the expense of Spanish settlers. Some of these complaints were self-serving, colonists who objected to any restraints on their exploitation of indigenous people. But some reflected genuine concerns about arbitrary and brutal

governance. Columbus had created a regime characterized by paranoia and brutality, sparking rebellion among the Spanish settlers themselves. One Spanish colonist named Francisco Rodon had led a rebellion against Columbus's rule in 1497, establishing a competing regime in Western Hispaniola that Columbus was forced to negotiate with rather than crush. The rebels accused Columbus of tyranny and demanded greater freedom to exploit the indigenous population. Columbus eventually made peace with Roldon by giving him land and the labor of indigenous people, essentially rewarding rebellion with the very things the rebels had demanded. The Spanish crown receiving a steady stream of complaints from Hispaniola about mismanagement, corruption, and brutality, decided to send an

investigator. On May 21st, 1499, Ferdinand and Isabella appointed Francisco de Bobadilla, a knight commander of the Order of Calatrava and nephew of one of Queen Isabella's close friends, as a royal commissioner with full powers to investigate and, if necessary, replace Columbus. Bobadilla was given authority superseding that of Columbus himself, a sign of House seriously the crown took the complaints. Bobadilla arrived in Santo Domingo on August 23rd, 1500. According to some accounts, even before he disembarked, he saw the bodies of Spanish colonists hanging from gallows in the harbor men Columbus had executed for insubordination. What Bobadilla found as he investigated confirmed the worst of the accusations. He discovered that Columbus

had recently hanged five Spanish colonists for various offenses. He gathered, he gathered testimony about arbitrary punishments, including whippings and mutilations inflicted on both Spaniards and indigenous people. He found evidence of Columbus's economic interest in the enslavement of indigenous people, and his reluctance to baptize them, since baptized Christians could not legally be enslaved. He found Columbus's own journal entry from September 1498 that read, From here one might send, in the name of the Holy Trinity, as many slaves as could be sold. Bobidia collected a large number of complaints against all three Columbus brothers, reputing that their governance had been disastrous, with serious abuses of authority.

Spanish historian Consuelo Varela, who has studied the documentary evidence, concluded that Columbus's government was characterized by a form of tyranny. Even those who loved him had to admit the atrocities that had taken place. Bobadilla also discovered that Columbus had been angry at some Spaniards for committing atrocities against the natives and had hanged them for it, a seemingly contradictory fact that suggests the complexity of Columbus's relationship with violence. Bobadilla immediately arrested Diego Columbus, who was in charge of the settlement while Christopher was away on an expedition in the interior. When Christopher returned in September 1500, Bobadilla arrested him as well,

along with their brother Bartholomew. All three Columbus brothers were placed in chains and shipped back to Spain to stand trial. Bobadilla seized all of Columbus's property and documents and took over the governorship of Hispaniola himself. Columbus was devastated and humiliated. In a letter written after his return to Spain, he poured out his grievance, describing the 17 years he had spent in service to the crown. The eight years of rejection before his first voyage was approved. The discovery of lands greater than Africa and Europe combined. The more than 1,700 island, he had claimed for Spain. At a time when I was entitled to expect rewards and retirement, he wrote, I was incontinently arrested and sent home loaded with chains. The accusation was

brought out of malice on the basis of charges made by civilians who had revolted and wished to take possession of the land. According to his son Ferdinand, Columbus refused to have his chains removed during the voyage home, declaring that he would wear them until the king and queen ordered them taken off, as a bitter symbol of his betrayal by the crown he had served. The captain of the ship offered to have the chains removed, but Columbus refused. He reportedly kept those chains with him for the rest of his life, and asked to be buried with them. It was a theatrical gesture that captured Columbus's sense of himself as a martyr, a man who had given everything and received injustice in return. Columbus arrived in Spain in

October 1500 and waited six weeks in jail before being released. He then waited seven months for an audience with the monarchs. Ferdinand and Isabella eventually summoned him to the Alhambra Palace in Granada, where, according to accounts, they expressed shock and displeasure at Bobadilla's actions and ordered Columbus released from disgrace. His titles and privileges were restored, though he was never again given governorship of the colonies. The monarchs replaced Bobadilla with Nicola de Ovando, a more competent administrator who would oversee the systematic expansion of Spanish colonization throughout the Caribbean. The neutrality and accuracy of Bobadilla's investigation have been disputed by historians. Some have argued that Bobadilla had his own

agenda, that he wanted to take over Columbus's position and used the investigation to discredit him unfairly. Columbus's son, Ferdinand, in his biography of his father, portrayed Bobadilla as a villain who recognized and favored the rebels and absolved the population from tribute for 20 years in order to curry their favor. But even if Bobadilla's methods were questionable, the underlying facts about Columbus's brutal governance have been confirmed by other sources. Columbus may have been treated unfairly by the investigation,

but he was not innocent of the charges against him. Despite everything that had happened, Columbus remained obsessed with his dream of finding a Western route to Asia. He petitioned the crown for permission to make one more voyage, this time to search for a strait that would allow ships to pass through the landmass he had discovered and reached the Indian Ocean beyond. In his increasingly mystical frame of mind, he also began to see himself as divinely chosen for a great mission,

compiling a book of prophecies that used biblical passages to argue that his discoveries were part of God's plan for the end times. Ferdinand and Isabella, perhaps wanting to give the disgraced after, Admiral, one final chance to redeem himself, or perhaps simply wanting to get him out of Spain, agreed to sponsor one more expedition. Columbus's fourth and final voyage departed from Cadiz on May 9th, 1502, with four ships and approximately 140 men. Among the crew was his 13-year-old son, Ferdinand, who would later write a biography of his father. Columbus called it El Alto Viage, the High Voyage. It would proved to be the most disaster prone of all his expeditions. He was given strict orders from

the monarchs not to stop at Hispaniola, only to search for a westward passage to the Indian Ocean mainland. The expedition was specifically forbidden to stop at Hispaniola, but Columbus, sensing a hurricane approaching based on his years of experience, reading the sea and sky, anchored off the coast and sent word to Governor Ovando requesting permission to shelter in the harbor. Ovando denied the request, and ignoring Columbus's warning about the storm, dispatched a treasure fleet of approximately 30 ships towards Spain. The hurricane struck with devastating force on July 1st, 1502. The treasure fleet was almost completely destroyed.

Only one ship reached Spain. Hundreds of men drowned, including Francisco de Bobadilla, the man who had arrested Columbus two years earlier, along with Francisco Roldan. The rebel leader Columbus had been forced to accommodate. Columbus' own ships sheltered along the coast, survived with minor damage. From Hispaniola, Columbus sailed along the coast of Central America, exploring the coasts of what are now Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama.

He was searching desperately for the strait that would prove his belief that he had found a route to Asia. He learned from the Nagobi people of Panama about gold and a straight to another ocean. He was tantalizingly close to discovering the Pacific. The Isthmus of Panama is only about 40 miles wide at its narrowest point. Had he crossed it, he would have been the first European to see the Pacific Ocean. But he never found his straight, and the Pacific remained hidden beyond the mountains. The expedition was plagued by storms, hostile encounters with indigenous peoples, and deteriorating ships. Columbus established a short-lived settlement at the mouth of the

Boulin River in Panama in January 1503, but the local Kassas, Sikh El-Kibian, initially friendly, turned hostile when he realized the Spanish intended to stay. The settlement was attacked and had to be abandoned. Two of the four ships were so damaged by shipworms, which had eaten through their holes, that they had to be abandoned in Panama and Portobello. By June 15, 03, Columbus's two remaining vessels were so damaged that he was forced to beach them on the coast of Jamaica. He and his men were stranded there for over a year.

Stranded and desperate, Columbus sent two of his captains, Diego Mendes and Bartolomeo Fieschi, by canoe to Hispaniola to seek rescue, a journey of some 450 miles across open sea. They accomplished this remarkable feat but were detained by Governor Ovando, who made no haste to rescue Columbus and his men. Meanwhile, the stranded crew faced starvation and the threat of attack from the local Taino. When the indigenous people grew tired of providing food for the Spaniards and threatened to cut off supplies, Columbus used his astronomical tables to predict a lunar eclipse on February 29, 1504. He warned the Taino that his god would show his displeasure by darkening the moon. When the eclipse occurred on schedule, the terrified Taino resumed providing food.

It was a clever trick, but it was also a form of manipulation and intimidation that epitom Columbus's relationship with indigenous peoples throughout his career. Rescue finally arrived on June 29th, 1504, more than a year after Columbus had been stranded. He returned to Spain in November 1504, broken in health and spirit. The voyage had been, as one scholar wrote, the least profitable and most dangerous of all his voyages. He had found no passage to the east, returned miserly prophets to Castile, lost many men in all four ships and suffered a year stranding in Jamaica. Queen Isabella, his greatest patron, died just weeks later on November 26, 1504. Columbus spent his final years pressing his claims for

the wealth and privileges he believed the crown owed him, following the court from Segovia to Salamanca to Valladolid as he sought audiences with King Ferdinand, who proved far less sympathetic to Columbus than Isabella had been. Christopher Columbus died in Valadolubus. Christopher Columbus died in Valadolubal Spain on May 20th, 1506, at approximately 54 years of age. The cause of death was likely some form of chronic illness, possibly reactive arthritis or rider's syndrome. He was surrounded by his sons Diego and Ferdinand and his brother Diego. To the end, he apparently believed that he had reached the outskirts of Asia, never acknowledging that the lands he had found were something entirely new to European knowledge. The year after his death, the new world was

named America after Amerigo Vespucci, the Florentine explorer who had recognized it as a new continent, rather than after Columbus. It was a final irony that the man who had opened the door to European colonization of the Americas did not even have the lands named for him. Columbus was not poor when he died, despite some romanticized accounts. His son Diego was well-established at court, and Columbus still received substantial income from his share of the gold diggings in Hispaniola. one of the few ships to escape the 15-02 hurricane that destroyed the treasure fleet had been carrying Columbus's money and belongings. But he felt himself ill-used and short-changed,

and his final years were marked by constant legal battles to defend his family's claims to the titles and revenues promised in the capitulations of Santa Fe. His heirs would continue these legal battles for generations after his death. Columbus was buried first in Valadolid, then his remains were moved to Seville, then to Santo Domingo in the colony he had founded, then reportedly to Havana when Spain lost control of Hispaniola, and finally back to Seville, where a tomb in the cathedral claims to hold his remains.

DNA testing in 2006 confirmed that at least some of the bones in the Seville tomb are indeed those of Columbus, though the possibility remains that some of his remains are still in the Dominican Republic. Even in death, the Admiral of the O.E. ocean sea cannot rest in one place. For centuries after his death, Christopher Columbus was celebrated in the Western world as a hero of exploration and discovery. Stay tuned for more disturbing history. We'll be back after these messages. The 300th anniversary of his first voyage in 1792 was marked by celebrations in the newly independent United States, where the name Columbia became synonymous with America itself, gracing everything from the nation's capital

to its poems, songs, and eventually its space shuttles. King's College in New York was renamed Columbia College. The female personification of America was called Columbia. The very concept of America as a land of new beginnings was tied to the mythology of Columbus as a bold visionary who had challenged the unknown. In 1892, the 400th anniversary, Columbus was faded across the Americas in Europe, with grand expositions in Chicago and Genoa celebrating his achievements. The world's Colombian exposition in Chicago was a massive fair that showcased American industry and innovation, all supposedly flowing from Columbus's initial voyage.

Elaborate ceremonies, parades, and commemorations reinforced the narrative of Columbus as the founding father of the Americas, a hero whose courage and vision had opened a new world to civilization. Columbus Day became a federal holiday in the United States in 1937, championed particularly by Italian-American communities who saw the Genoese Navigator as a symbol of Italian contributions

to American history. At a time when Italian immigrants faced widespread discrimination, prejudice, and even violence, including the 1891 lynching of 11 Italian Americans in New Orleans, claiming Columbus as their own provided a measure of legitimacy acceptance. If the man who discovered America was Italian, the argument went, then Italian Americans were not interlopers, but heirs to a great legacy. Columbus statues were erected in cities

across the country. The popular image of Columbus as a brave explorer who proved the earth was round and opened a new world to civilization, became deeply embedded in American culture. But this heroic narrative was always contested. Indigenous peoples and their allies never forgot what Columbus's arrival had meant for the original inhabitants of the Americas. As early as 1977, indigenous representatives at a United Nations conference in Geneva, the International NGO Conference on Discrimination Against Indigenous Populations in the Americas, proposed replacing Columbus Day with a celebration honoring indigenous peoples. In 1989, South Dakota became the first United States state to officially replace Columbus Day

with Native American Day, following the urging of Tim Giago, a Native American publisher who connected the issue to the approaching centennial of the Wounded Knee Massacre. The 500th anniversary of Columbus's voyage in 1992 became a flashpoint for competing interpretations of his legacy. While some planned grand celebrations, indigenous groups organized counter-protests and mourning ceremonies across the Americas. Scholars published detailed studies documenting the atrocities of the conquest. The 500th anniversary, which some had planned as a quintennial jubilee, instead became an occasion for reflection on the costs of colonization. Public awareness of the darker side of Columbus's legacy grew significantly. Since the 1990s, a growing number of cities and states

have replaced Columbus Day with Indigenous People's Day, a holiday that honors the cultures and histories of the indigenous peoples who inhabited the Americas before and after Columbus's arrival. Berkeley, California became the first city to make this change in 1992. In 2021, President Joe Biden formally commemorated Indigenous People's Day with a presidential proclamation, becoming the first United States president to officially recognize the holiday. More than a dozen states now observe Indigenous People's Day, including Alabama, Alaska, Hawaii, Idaho, Iowa, Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Minnesota, New Mexico, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Dakota, Vermont, Virginia, and Wisconsin.

Columbus statues have been removed from public spaces in cities across America. In 2020, amid broader protests against systemic racism and historical injustice following the murder of George Floyd, statues of Columbus were toppled, beheaded, or officially removed in cities including Boston, Chicago, Minneapolis, Richmond, and St. Paul. The statues in many cases ended up in rivers, spray painted or dismantled by crowds who saw them as symbols of genocide and oppression. Even Columbus, Ohio, the largest city named after the explorer, stopped celebrating Columbus Day in 2018 and declared October 12th, Indigenous People's Day in 2020. This shift has not been without controversy. Many Italian-American organizations view the targeting of Columbus as an attack on their heritage.

They argue that Columbus should be judged by the standards of his time, not by modern values, and that his navigational achievements were genuinely remarkable regardless of what happened afterward. Some have protested the removal of statues and the replacement of Columbus Day with Indigenous People's Day. The debate over Columbus has become entangled with broader culture war conflicts over how America should remember its past. How should we judge Christopher Columbus? The question is not easy to answer. He was undeniably a skilled and courageous navigator who accomplished something no European had done before,

establishing a permanent link between the old world and the new. His voyages changed the course of human history in ways that cannot be undone or ignored. The Colombian exchange that followed his voyages transformed agriculture, ecology, and human populations on both sides of the Atlantic. For better or worse, we live in a world shaped by Columbus's voyages. But he was also, by the standards of any era, a brutal and exploitative ruler who implemented systems of forced labor and tribute that contributed to the destruction of entire civilizations. He enslaved people who had welcomed him with gifts.

He punished those who could not produce enough gold by mutilation. He wrote in his own journals about the desirability of subjugating peaceful indigenous people and making them do whatever he wanted. He was arrested and sent back to Spain in chains by his own government because his brutality had become too extreme even for the Spanish crown of the Inquisition era to tolerate. The argument that Columbus should be judged by the standards of his time is not as straightforward as it might appear.

Bartolome de las Casas, who witnessed the conquest firsthand and initially participated in it, came to condemn it as unjust and criminal. Queen Isabella objected to the enslavement of indigenous people who might be converted to Christianity. The Dominican friars of Hispaniola preached against the atrocities from their pulpits, asking their congregations, are these not men? Do they not have rational souls? There were people in Columbus' own era who recognized that what was happening was wrong. Columbus and his fellow colonizers did not represent the only moral standard of their age.

Perhaps the most important thing we can do is tell the truth. Not the sanitized version of Columbus that generations of American schoolchildren were taught. Not the simplified villain of some modern accounts, but the full, complicated, disturbing truth. Columbus was a complex figure who achieved remarkable things and committed terrible crimes. His voyages connected two worlds that had been separated for thousands of years, unleashing transformations in ecology, economy, and human population that we are still grappling with today. Those transformations brought enormous benefits to some people and catastrophic suffering to others. Both of these things are true, and both must be acknowledged. The year is 2025.

More than five centuries have passed since Columbus' first-sighted land in the Caribbean. The Taino people, once thought to be completely extinct, have experienced a remarkable resurgence of identity and culture. DNA studies have shown that many people in Puerto Rico, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic carry significant Taino genetic heritage, the result of intermarriage during the early colonial period. Communities throughout the Caribbean have reclaimed their indigenous roots and Taino cultural organizations work to preserve and revive the language, traditions, and spiritual practices of their ancestors. The story of the Taino did not end in 1500.

It continues today. But the shadow of Columbus's legacy remains. The systems of exploitation and forced labor he introduced in the Caribbean became models for Spanish colonization throughout the Americas. The incommienda system spread to Mexico, Peru, and beyond, extracting labor from indigenous peoples across two continents. When the indigenous population declined to the point that there were not enough workers to exploit,

African slaves were imported to take their place, beginning the transatlantic slave trade that would forcibly transport millions of people from Africa to the Americas over the following centuries. Columbus himself has been called the father of the slave trade by some historians. The Colombian exchange, the transfer of plants, animals, diseases, and ideas between the old world and the new, reshaped human civilization on a global scale. European crops and animals, wheat, cattle, horses, pigs, transformed American landscapes. American crops like corn, potatoes, tomatoes, and chocolate transformed European agriculture, cuisine, and population growth. But the exchange was profoundly

unequal. European diseases killed tens of millions of indigenous Americans, perhaps 90% of the pre-contact population over the century, following Columbus's first voyage. The flow of gold and silver from American minds to Europe, helped fuel the rise of capitalism in the modern world economy. But that wealth was extracted through the labor and lives of indigenous and African people. We cannot undo what happened. We cannot bring back the millions who died. We cannot restore the civilizations that were destroyed. But we can tell the truth about what happened and why and what it cost.

We can honor the memory of those who suffered and those who resisted. We can learn from the past so that we might build a more just future. We can listen to the voices of indigenous peoples today as they continue to fight for their rights, their lands, and their cultures. Columbus did not discover America. He invaded it. He did not find a route to Asia. He found peoples and places that had existed for thousands of years,

and he set in motion their destruction. He was not a hero in any simple sense. He was a man who did remind him. remarkable things and terrible things, and the balance sheet of his legacy is written in blood. This has been disturbing history. The story of Christopher Columbus. The explorer who opened the gates to a new world, and in doing so, opened the gates of hell for the people who already lived there. Your skin

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