Land ahead!

Chris was staring at the sea; it was a calm evening. A gentle breeze was caressing his sunburnt face. He knew that breeze as he knew his mother. It would always blow in the evening, at times gently at times with the violence and cruelty of a witch. He knew how to handle it though: he knew that sailing was not an option when that old witch was mad. And how often was she mad! He remembered that one evening when he was still young and not fully conscious of the perils of the sea. He would leave the dock, just for the sake of it. He didn’t really have to do it but he was a sailor, he knew nothing else, his heart would make him sail whenever he could: for work during the day and for fun at night. He smiled sweetly at himself while remembering. How naïve he had been on that one evening though, when gushes of wind tore the sail apart, and the water swirled beneath the boat, the sound of incoming death whistling in his years. His small boat sank after a short fight, swallowed by the infernal pit that had opened up, but luckily, he wasn’t far away from the shore and he was young, fit and full of energy so he swam his way towards survival. Something changed that evening though: he stopped feeling invincible, eternal: he stopped being young. He knew that he wouldn’t be the same any more: he understood that he could die, he knew that the darkness of the swirling water had found a place inside his soul forever. This consciousness of death would never abandon him: it made him more cautious, probably wiser, more wary even, it made him old.

He was lost in these memories when Mat joined him on the shore: they were old pals, Mat and him, they had been sailing together many times, to the British Isles, to Ghana even. They were both hard-working, committed sailors, they loved and feared the sea, they took good care of their crew, they helped each other when it was time to find sponsors for their journeys. However, they had been arguing over this issue for years.

Hi Chris, what’s up man? Is your head spinning today?

Chris knew that it was a joke, he perfectly knew that, but that matter was a very serious one for him: his next expedition was completely based on that one idea. He could not believe that there were still so many people, even well-educated people, that still believed that the earth was flat. How could it be possible that people did not believe in science? In science-based evidence? Everything was there, it was crystal-clear, but people still preferred myths and tall stories over reality. And they defended their myths with theories based on nothing, on personal opinions at the very best. But they never used facts to guide their views: how can you let opinions lead your life? You must go where the facts take you. If facts point to a specific direction, that’s where you should be heading. If the north pole of a compass points toward north, that’s what you have to follow, to guide you thorough the waves. You don’t follow your guts; you don’t follow the words of random sailors who tell you that they feel that you should go elsewhere.

I can’t believe we are arguing over this Mat; I can’t believe you still think that the earth is a sort of flat round raft floating on water and when we reach the horizon we simply sink because that’s the end of the surface we can sale through. Come on you cannot be serious; you are much better than that! This is just pseudoscience, at its very worst!

Yes, my friend, I know you are setting off tomorrow, I know all about your sponsors, I know about your bizarre ideas and I have already told you what I think, that it’s just madness. I mean, I do love you because you are a visionary: you look at the sky and the stars talk to you of old myths and tales, you look at the waters and they whisper ancient lullabies that only you can hear. But no, my friend, I won’t support you on this madness. You’ll get yourself killed, and you’ll get all your crew killed. You’ll all drop off the edge of the earth. And this is the best scenario honestly: you are much more likely to run out of supplies much before Death meets you at the end of the world, a world which is too big for you and your ships.

It's actually three ships, three! And you know it, but this is not the point. The point is that I need your support here. I am well aware of the risk I am taking; I know that what I do is daring, even insane you might say. I know I will probably never convince you that there is another way to get there, new sees to sail, if only we were brave enough to try. I still have you in high consideration, even if you and your friends feed each other on this conspiracy theories and pseudoscience. It doesn’t matter how evident something might be, if you only see what you want to see. Because this is what you are doing here. But I am not here to argue again. I want us to bury the hatchet for today, I want you to support me, to send me your blessing, I want you to think about me while I am away. I am scared Mat, I won’t deny it, and I am not scared of dropping off the edges of the earth. I am scared because this is a perilous journey, because no one wanted to believe in me, to support this mission. Come on, I had to go to Spain to find a sponsor! I am alone in here. I feel that nobody has a vision in Italy anymore, we are all locked up in ourselves, we don’t stare at the sky anymore, we don’t read the stars, we don’t trust the sea, we don’t trust facts nor ourselves anymore. I know I sound more like a poet than a sailor right now, but I want to do it, I know I can do it! So please, let’s not fight over this any more and give me your blessing.

That I can do it my friend, I’ll always have your back, as I know you’ll always have mine. May god be with you. I’ll be at the dock watching you and your three ships sail away tomorrow. Good luck my friend

12 October 1492

Land ahead!

Everyone turned and everyone spotted it.