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Authors: Ernle Bradford
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campaign. This omission increased a natural bitterness and sense of rivalry, which would have unhappy repercussions in the future. Prince Henry, in addition to these other marks of favor, was made governor of Ceuta. It was a post that he discharged faithfully to the end of his life. Although it did not necessitate his presence in the city, it gave him a permanent interest in Africa.
The sight of Africa combined with his first long sea voyage was to effect a revolution in Prince Henry. The attack on Ceuta had been planned so that he and his brothers might win their spurs of knighthood on a foreign battlefield. It was a religious crusading spirit that had given Henry his certainty and purpose when even the King contemplated calling off the expedition. This medieval, militant conception of Christianity remained an integral part of Prince Henry’s character all his life.
No man of Henry’s temperament could sail into the Atlantic and see the illimitable ocean spreading away to south and west without wondering what secrets it contained. There it lay, mile upon mile of unknown ocean, the long level planes of water dovetailing into one another under the swell. The sun went down beyond the western rim, and there was no hiss of expiring fires, as the ancients had maintained. Flying fish rose in silver flights in front of the galley’s bows, and in the silence he could hear the flicker of their wings. He saw no sea monsters.
The capture of Ceuta had strengthened his self-confidence. All his life he had heard tales of the Moors, the terror of Christendom, the heathen who had once occupied his own country, Portugal, and all of Spain. Yet Ceuta had fallen easily enough, with only a handful of Portuguese dead to weigh in the balance against the capture of so great a city, and the slaughter of many of the infidel. Perhaps even the power of the Moors was something of a legend? If Ceuta, why not Gibraltar, and then Tangier, and then all Morocco? As the galley turned north and headed toward the coast of Algarve, the southernmost province of Portugal, he could see the bulk of Cape Spartel dropping away astern. Cape Spartel was the western limit of Morocco, yet beyond it, as he could see, the coastline still existed. It trended away to the southwest, tawny under the midday sun, a land of desert, but nevertheless a land.
It may have been during those days aboard the galley that he heard for the first time the old sailors’ saying: “Quern passar o Cabo de Nam, ou tornara ou nam^ “He who would pass
Cape Not, either will return or not.” Beyond it few ships had ever gone, and not far to the south lay Cape Bojador, where the unknown began, the boiling sea and the Ocean of Darkness. At that point it seemed as if the waters ran downward in a curve, so that, it was said, no ship could ever sail back. The winds drew always from astern, so that even if the curved ocean was a myth, the fact remained that a square-sailed vessel had little chance of beating her way north again. Cape Not lay almost opposite Langarote, the northernmost of the Canary Islands, and—whatever else might be unknown—the Canaries had been familiar to mariners for many centuries. One established fact weighs heavily against a vast bulk of legend, and it was the facts that Henry acquired on the expedition to Ceuta that gave him the foundation on which to build a whole system of acquired knowledge. If he had been no more than a dreamer, he might have been content to evolve poetry or fantasy out of the unknown ocean. But instead, he dedicated himself to finding out more about that coastline, which with every stroke of the galley’s oars faded into the distance.
He went back to Ceuta three years later, in 1418. The Governor had reported that the city was heavily beseiged by Moors from Granada and Fez, and that he required help. Once again, King John put Prince Henry in command of the fleet that was sent to Ceuta’s relief. This time there were no calms or foul weather to
The sight of Africa combined with his first long sea voyage was to effect a revolution in Prince Henry. The attack on Ceuta had been planned so that he and his brothers might win their spurs of knighthood on a foreign battlefield. It was a religious crusading spirit that had given Henry his certainty and purpose when even the King contemplated calling off the expedition. This medieval, militant conception of Christianity remained an integral part of Prince Henry’s character all his life.
No man of Henry’s temperament could sail into the Atlantic and see the illimitable ocean spreading away to south and west without wondering what secrets it contained. There it lay, mile upon mile of unknown ocean, the long level planes of water dovetailing into one another under the swell. The sun went down beyond the western rim, and there was no hiss of expiring fires, as the ancients had maintained. Flying fish rose in silver flights in front of the galley’s bows, and in the silence he could hear the flicker of their wings. He saw no sea monsters.
The capture of Ceuta had strengthened his self-confidence. All his life he had heard tales of the Moors, the terror of Christendom, the heathen who had once occupied his own country, Portugal, and all of Spain. Yet Ceuta had fallen easily enough, with only a handful of Portuguese dead to weigh in the balance against the capture of so great a city, and the slaughter of many of the infidel. Perhaps even the power of the Moors was something of a legend? If Ceuta, why not Gibraltar, and then Tangier, and then all Morocco? As the galley turned north and headed toward the coast of Algarve, the southernmost province of Portugal, he could see the bulk of Cape Spartel dropping away astern. Cape Spartel was the western limit of Morocco, yet beyond it, as he could see, the coastline still existed. It trended away to the southwest, tawny under the midday sun, a land of desert, but nevertheless a land.
It may have been during those days aboard the galley that he heard for the first time the old sailors’ saying: “Quern passar o Cabo de Nam, ou tornara ou nam^ “He who would pass
Cape Not, either will return or not.” Beyond it few ships had ever gone, and not far to the south lay Cape Bojador, where the unknown began, the boiling sea and the Ocean of Darkness. At that point it seemed as if the waters ran downward in a curve, so that, it was said, no ship could ever sail back. The winds drew always from astern, so that even if the curved ocean was a myth, the fact remained that a square-sailed vessel had little chance of beating her way north again. Cape Not lay almost opposite Langarote, the northernmost of the Canary Islands, and—whatever else might be unknown—the Canaries had been familiar to mariners for many centuries. One established fact weighs heavily against a vast bulk of legend, and it was the facts that Henry acquired on the expedition to Ceuta that gave him the foundation on which to build a whole system of acquired knowledge. If he had been no more than a dreamer, he might have been content to evolve poetry or fantasy out of the unknown ocean. But instead, he dedicated himself to finding out more about that coastline, which with every stroke of the galley’s oars faded into the distance.
He went back to Ceuta three years later, in 1418. The Governor had reported that the city was heavily beseiged by Moors from Granada and Fez, and that he required help. Once again, King John put Prince Henry in command of the fleet that was sent to Ceuta’s relief. This time there were no calms or foul weather to
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