First Mate

I don’t want to limit myself to history,

Don’t want to deny myself the liberty

Of contemplating what didn’t happen

But might have if the first mate, say,

On Columbus’s flagship, the Santa María,

Had tried his best, as a man of peace,

To persuade his captain that their enterprise

Might profit more from trading with the natives

Than from seizing their land and making them slaves.

Would Columbus have been open-minded

Enough to give this argument a fair hearing,

Along with the argument that it would be easier

To convert the natives if they were trading partners,

Not property? The odds, I admit, are against it,

Given that his virtues were those of an explorer—

Courage and confidence—not justice, not sympathy.

Long odds, but not impossible odds,

Despite his reluctance to accept advice

From a subordinate, if the mate,

Appealing to his captain’s hankering

To appear in the eyes of the world

Magnanimous as well as masterful,

Had promised to keep his own part

In revising the policy of his superior

A secret.

No monuments, then, in this alternative history,

Would have praised the mate for his deep humanity.

All would have praised the captain, who alone,

Or almost alone, would have known the truth:

That if his mate had been a yes-man,

Not a hero, the logbooks and charts

Would be smeared with blood.