Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!
Chapter 847 - 469: The Starting Point of the Year 1488, The Call and Songs of New Routes!_2

Chapter 847: Chapter 469: The Starting Point of the Year 1488, The Call and Songs of New Routes!_2

"Fortunately, my ship is from Captain Diogo, and it is made of sturdy cold fir, and it’s not that old..."

Bunoru felt fortunate in his heart. He climbed onto the deck, stood up, and under the dim sky, he tried hard to look for other ships. The waves over the past few days had all moved in one direction, and as long as the sails were down, the ship would not drift too far.

Everyone gazed at the murky sea, searching in vain for half a day, gaining nothing. Until noon, when the daylight broke through the clouds, the visibility broadened slightly, and a caravel suddenly appeared in front of Bunoru. Beside it, there was a broken, ragged supply ship.

"It’s the fleet flagship, ’São Cristóvão’!... The supply ship is here as well!"

Bunoru looked closely; the flagship was anchored a few miles away and looked relatively intact. All three masts were still standing, and even the main sail was not fully lowered; it was close to the deck, held at a very low height.

"This is..."

He paused and looked at the flagship riding the waves for a while before realizing the key. It turned out that by furling the main sail halfway at a certain height, the ship could lift itself over the rough waves, avoiding being completely submerged.

"Captain Dias’ sail handling skills are truly... impressive...."

After a while, Bunoru sighed softly. Captain Dias hailed from nobility, surely possessing the most precious nautical heritage, and had years of experience at sea, incomparable to him, a noble’s bastard. In critical moments, such invaluable experience and knowledge determined life and death!

"Captain, the flagship... is coming... coming closer!"

Haroldo looked for a moment and hurried to Bunoru’s side. His voice was hoarse and he was noticeably thinner, appearing more agile.

"Huh?... The flagship is signaling!"

Upon hearing this, Bruno widened his eyes and looked at the approaching flagship.

"Raise the sails, continue south!!"

"Raise the sails, continue south!!"

"Foda-se! Mad, crazy! Dias is a demon!"

Seeing the signal clearly, Bruno was instantly furious. He pounded the deck in anger, roaring out.

"Continue south?! We just passed through a storm zone, going further south, it’s still stormy weather!"

However, the flagship merely issued orders without giving them a choice. Soon, the flagship stopped approaching and turned its bow again, then raised its sails.

"Foda-se!"

Bruno cried out in despair. He turned to the north, where a storm was still raging. Then he looked south, where flashes of lightning illuminated the new storm. Caught between two storms, what choices did they have? The newly appointed captain stretched out his hand, feeling the still strong northwest wind, and had to order again.

"Raise the sails, continue south!... Don’t tie them too tightly, be ready to lower them at any time!... Lord, Demon, whoever it is, please protect me... As long as I survive, I will surely offer sacrifices to you!..."

Of course, these last two sentences, only Bruno himself could hear.

A day later, the three Portuguese exploration ships, with sails at full speed in the strong winds, charged into the southern storm once more. This time, the terrible storm lasted seven days, with mountainous waves appearing continuously. When the fleet finally broke through the storm, everyone was exhausted, collapsing on the deck like dying salted fish. Each ship had lost at least a quarter of its crew compared to half a month ago!

"Foda-se!... Thirteen days, a hellish voyage that lasted thirteen days!"

Bruno, sore all over, lay on the deck, gazing at the long-lost clear sky. Sunlight filtered down from the pristine blue sky, shining on his vampire-pale face, as if it were a gift from the Lord... or perhaps a gift from the Demon...

"Foda-se! Tenho saudades! I miss, that long-lost hometown!... If another storm comes, we’ll all go to hell!..."

The newly appointed captain lay motionless, lost in the unfamiliar sky. Beside him lay the newly appointed boatswain Haroldo, quartermaster Matim, and carpenter Ivo. The four officers had expended all their strength, let alone the ordinary sailors.

Luckily, Bruno’s prophecy did not come true. The fleet had already passed through the most dangerous storm zone. With the storm calmed, the following days were all clear. At this time, the wind direction turned to the west, howling day and night, forming the prevailing westerlies.

The fleet had drifted for too long in the storm. Dias, pale and stern, stood on the deck, gazing at the vast sea around him. Though his expression did not change, his heart was full of confusion.

"Where is this...?"

Dias pondered for a long time. In this unknown sea, with no reference points, he couldn’t make an accurate judgment. However, no matter what, the current priority was to reach the shore quickly and repair the severely damaged fleet.

After a few moments, he reached out his hand, felt the vast westerly wind, and ordered sharply.

"Raise the sails, turn east!"

No one defied the captain’s will. Those who dared to defy had ended up as corpses in the sea. Despite having survived the dreadful storm, an unspoken consensus of dark undercurrents flowed among the crew, waiting for the day when the accumulated emotions would burst forth. The lingering feeling of survival and the longing for home grew stronger.

On January 29, 1488, the Portuguese exploration fleet continued east, sailing day and night for three days with the strong westerlies, covering at least eight hundred miles. However, the African continent, which was supposed to appear in the east, was nowhere in sight. Sailing Master Pero measured the latitude, approximately between 37 and 39 degrees north.

First confused, Dias then had a sudden, unbelievable thought come to mind! He suppressed his speculation and issued another command.

"Turn the sails, keeping the angle with the west wind at 45 degrees, and the same with the ship hull! Turn the bow north!"

The battered Portuguese fleet immediately adjusted course, using the westerly wind’s force to sail half-speed north. Only two days later, on the afternoon of February 3rd, the long coastline appeared once again. But this time, the southern continent’s coastline extended horizontally!

"Lord have mercy! This, this land is oriented east and west!"

Dias stood at the bow, staring at the coastline stretching east and west, dazed for a few seconds. Then, boundless joy surged in his heart, making him tremble all over.

At this moment, he realized that he had finally rounded the southernmost tip of the African continent, and the route to India and Seris was now directly in front of him!

"Merciful Lord! Thank you for your grace! You sent angels to deliver peace to your faithful followers and preserved our lives with your peace!... Praise you, eternal Savior! Thank you for protecting me and enabling me to discover the route to the East!!"

Dias wept with joy, kneeling forcefully on the deck and praying loudly.

He looked up at the clear blue sky, feeling enveloped by sacred light. At this moment, he was certain that the Lord had blessed him and the Portuguese people. The Pope’s mandate, the King’s decree, and his old friend’s unfulfilled wish would be realized in his hands! He would be remembered by the Catholic World, and perhaps even enshrined after his death, forever etched in history!

"Praise the Lord for his grace! Two thousand years after the Phoenicians first circled Africa, I will once again lead the fleet to the land flowing with milk and honey, filled with gemstones and spices in the East! The new trade route will be in my hands, and it will also be in the hands of the Kingdom of Portugal!~~"

Dias’s frantic shouts spread in the vast sea breeze. On the flagship ’São Cristóvão,’ the surviving crew exchanged glances, eyes hinting at unspoken thoughts.

On the nearby coast, a short Khoisan herdsman was tending to a few lean cattle grazing on the nearshore grassland. He heard the calls in the wind, climbed a small hill in curiosity, and looked at the ships on the southern sea. The oldest tribe in Africa had finally, at this moment, met the youngest nation of Europe.

At this moment, the Khoisan herdsman did not know what was about to happen on the land that had belonged to them for generations. He only watched in surprise for a few moments, then smiled and sang softly.

"Mother of the Moon, thank you for bringing me good fortune! I see strange big ships, blossoming with crosses... Where did these wizards come from, riding on the planks of gods and demons, where are they heading?..."

On the sunlit coast at the southernmost tip of Africa, the desolate song echoed, responding to the distant shouts in Portuguese. It seemed like a friendly greeting, telling the beautiful beginning of a story, while the subsequent death and tears remained hidden beyond the sea and sky~