It was August, a hot summer sun beat down mercilessly upon white mud walls. Small boys ran about the wharves throwing hot stones into cool blue water. overloaded donkeys put tiny feet upon cobblestones leading to old docks. Tired drivers urged their charges on in guttural Spanish. All paths seemed to lead to the water, to the quay, where moored to the stones three small ships lay, taking on stores for a limitless voyage. Idle crowds milled about the blue Mediterranean shore. On board the vessels activity was intense. Men, who by their very dress, proved themselves to be no native mariners, were making ready for the departure of the craft. Another weighted donkey drew up, discharged his cargo, departed. The group about the shore increased as word about the town had spread that the fleet was in readiness to sail.

Fond friends and loving relations bade again a last farewell, a small, gray-haired priest took leave from the largest of the ships, bidding it god-speed with holy sanction. A last supply of provisions arrived, the staggering donkey unloaded, and his precious freight put aboard.

The wind grew strong, tossing whitecaps on the bay as its increase filled the colored sails of the little boats. The final word was given, the lines cast off, and anchors weighed. The largest ship gained speed, as her new sails gave to the wind and filled. Lines drew taut, no longer came the tapping of loose roped upon slackened sails. The ripple in the harbor as the boats slid through the water widened as an arrow, and soon white foam frothed under the steep bows.

Around the harbor entrance and out into the great blue expanse which had so long been the home of the sailors, they went. Behind them in the distance, slipped the little, town of Palos from which they had so lately set their sails. To the front lay the Cape, beckoning them to newer worlds. Beyond still farther fell that mystic headland which sailors have come to revere as do Gata, and then, still farther, farther to the East, lay the still silent rock which kept the entrance to their maritime knowledge. Beyond,--beyond that rock few men had ventured, and those who had, dared not to pass in straight defiance of the beetling brow of the noble Cape St. Vincent, so stern a guardian of the continent. But through the rock, and beyond that cape, men knew as Vincent, sailed the fleet. Beyond, lay they know not what. To sail their vessels they had men who were not sailors, to cheer their thoughts they had facts which were but legend, but to guide their steps they had the courage of the man Columbus.

Today at 10 the Vagabond will journey to hear Mr. Morison in Harvard 2 tell more about this man who sailed so fearlessly for hundred long years ago.