1492: Conquest of Paradise Page #7

COLUMBUS:

Diego! Here!

DIEGO catches it. Opening his hand he looks at the

medallion. Then looks up at his FATHER, elated.

THE SANTA MARIA is now two meters from the QUAY.

SANTANGEL is now opposite COLUMBUS.

SANTANGEL:

(casually)

Take care of my investment, wherever

you're going!

COLUMBUS:

(ambiguous)

I have to tell you Santangel. I

don't know where on earth I am

going!

They both laugh.

A FISHERMAN, standing in his shrimp-boat lets his hand

slide gently along the gigantic hull. He stares up at the

SAILORS leaning on the rail.

SAILOR:

Vaya con Dios! (Go with God!)

They wave back.

CUT TO:

MARCHENA walking towards the Moorish gate. He finally

turns, sad and distraught. He sees:

CUT TO:

EXT. SHIPS AT SEA - WHALES - DAY

THREE SHIPS ON A BOUNDLESS OCEAN.

The sea resembling a DORMANT MONSTER, holding its breath.

A living being, all powerful, capable of unpredictable

metamorphosis. Music reflects the loneliness, the anxiety

of the crew, the fear of the unknown...

ENORMOUS WHALES moving slowly alongside, surging

majestically through the waves. Sinking back,

disappearing, their cries taking precedent over the music.

EXT. DECK - DAY

A SHIP'S BOY is throwing buckets of water on the deck.

A SAILOR is busy clearing the ropes around the mast.

A COOK is blowing life into a brazier, in preparation of

the evening meal.

TEN MEN heaving on a heavy rope, raising the top sail,

punctuating their efforts with a sailor's chant.

EXT. SANTA MARIA - NIGHT

The crystalline north star -- as if seen through an

instrument.

COLUMBUS' silhouette, by an oil lamp, standing at the

prow. Holding a quadrant he is aiming at the stars.

SOME SAILORS are watching with curiosity. One of them is

ALONSO, a rough, stocky Basque.

Near COLUMBUS, on a tressel, various books and charts. He

makes an entry in the log. Then goes back to his

quadrant. He senses MENDEZ standing next to him.

COLUMBUS:

(softly)

Due west, Captain Mendez. And may

God be with us...

MENDEZ:

God be with us admiral.

MENDEZ doesn't move, continuing to observe COLUMBUS.

COLUMBUS:

What is it Mendez? Speak!

MENDEZ is hesitant. He nervously clears his throat.

MENDEZ:

Well... It's the men, Sir. They

wonder how you know our position.

We've lost sight from land days

ago...

COLUMBUS:

(still taking

readings)

And what do you think Mendez?

MENDEZ:

Well, I surely know what a quadrant

is! But I've never seen it used at

night before.

COLUMBUS:

Come over here.

MENDEZ hesitates, then motions to COLUMBUS. The SAILORS

are watching, and some approach to hear the conversation.

COLUMBUS:

Now, find the North Star. Do you

have it?

CUT TO:

The picture swims across the heavens, until we see the

north star.

COLUMBUS (O.S.)

Steady yourself...! Keep the plumb

line vertical...

The picture steadies.

CUT TO:

MENDEZ nods -- and loses equilibrium. The plumb line

swings.

COLUMBUS:

Don't move! A mistake of one degree

and we'll be off 6,000 leagues!

MENDEZ tries again.

COLUMBUS:

What do you read?

MENDEZ:

Twenty eight.

MENDEZ turns to COLUMBUS.

COLUMBUS:

That's it. The twenty eighth

parallel. And we'll follow it until

we reach land.

ALONSO does not seem convinced.

ALONSO:

How do you know land is on the

twenty eighth parallel?

EXT. SANTA MARIA - DECK - DAY

A blazing sun. The ship is like a furnace, its brass

fittings too hot to touch, the blistering heat making the

air shimmer over the decks.

Desperate for shade, sailors are sheltering under the

sagging prow sail.

The SHIP'S BOY throws an empty bucket attached to a rope

over the side and hauls it back up again, brimming with

water. As he turns, we see his face, disfigured by a hair

lip. He drenches himself... From the shade, ALONSO

watches him.

ALONSO:

Chicken-ass face!

The others laugh. The BOY, ashamed, tries to ignore them.

ALONSO'S hand accidentally touches a brass fitting; he

reacts like he was burnt.

ALONSO:

Sh*t!

He sucks his blistered fingers.

ALONSO:

I never seen heat like this! Not

even in Las Minas!

SAILOR:

The water's going putrid in the

barrels.

ALONSO:

You'll be drinking your own piss...

For the glory of Spain... and

Admiral Colon...! Bastard!

The SHIP'S BOY glances round at them.

ALONSO:

What are you listening to, chicken

ass?

SAILOR:

Ah, leave him alone. He's doing no

harm.

ALONSO:

With a face like that?

(to boy)

I don't want you looking at me. You

hear?

The BOY turns away, dropping the bucket back into the sea.

ALONSO:

He's the devil's child...

SAILOR:

We'll all go crazy...

The BOY throws more water over the deck. A SAILOR takes

his guitar, and starts singing an improvised song.

SAILOR:

Culo de galina es el hijo del

demonio... (Chicken ass mouth is the

devil's child... Born from the loins

of a stinky old goat etc...)

They all laugh. The BOY, hearing this, climbs to the

crow's-nest like a monkey.

EXT. SANTA MARIA - RIGGING AND CROW'S-NEST - DAY

We experience a sense of vertigo as we near the top of the

main mast, high above the rolling deck.

The BOY curls like a fetus in the swinging crow's-nest,

exhausted by the heat, and scared. His eyes are turning

white. He begins to piss himself...

CUT TO:

EXT. SANTA MARIA - DECK - DAY

Piss is dripping on the deck. THE SAILORS do not seem to

care. THE COOK takes a chicken from a cage. He breaks

its neck, and starts plucking it. The OTHERS continue

their bitter conversation.

ALONSO:

We should have seen land.

SAILOR:

We left three weeks ago, Alonso.

Can't be that near.

ALONSO:

Can't be that far, I say. Also, I

don't like the smell of the sea

around here. Smells like a c*nt.

Bad sign...

The COOK starts laughing. They turn to him.

COOK:

(shaking his head)

Of course it smells like it! That's

why sailors take to the sea!

They all laugh. Alonso looks up at COLUMBUS standing on

the poop deck, scrutinizing the horizon, waiting for the

land to appear.

ALONSO:

And why does this one take to the

sea? Nobody knows. Never says a

word...

MENDEZ has sensed the danger of this lack of respect. He

approaches them.

MENDEZ:

To your post! At once!

They split in silence.

EXT. SANTA MARIA - DECK - NIGHT

The SHIP is plowing on, pushed by a hot wind -- SAILORS

sleep on deck.

The SHIP'S BOY is singing to himself. Despite his hair

lip he has a pure, melancholy voice...

COLUMBUS, leaning over the prow rail, staring ahead, hears

it carry over the darkness.

EXT. SANTA MARIA - DECK - DAY

CLOSE UP ON AN HOUR-GLASS, nearly through its time.

The SHIP'S BOY throws an "ampoulette" over board. We

follow the bulb attached to a rope, passing the full

length of the hull. As it reaches the poop deck, another

SAILOR shouts "MARK". A very primitive system of

calculation for distance and speed.

Sitting near the SHIP'S BOY, COLUMBUS is making entries in

a log-book, watching the hourglass.

SHIP'S BOY

Mark. Twenty nine, Sir!

THE HOUR-GLASS runs out. COLUMBUS converts the mark into

a daily average for distance and speed.

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