Stood off and on during the night, determining not to come to

“Stood off and on during the night, determining not to come to anchor till morning, fearing to meet with shoals; continued our course in the morning; and as the island was found to be six or seven leagues distant, and the tide was against us, it was noon when we arrived there.” Thus wrote Christopher Columbus in his log, recording not just the course of his vessel, but the eternal struggle of man with uncertainty, fear, and patience. His words may seem plain, the voice of a navigator marking the passage of time and tide. Yet behind them shines a lesson of wisdom: that in the face of the unknown, caution is as noble as courage, and patience is as vital as daring.

The night sea is a place of peril. To stand off and on—to keep the ship moving yet never committing to anchor—was to acknowledge both hope and fear. Columbus longed to reach the new shore, but he knew the hidden dangers of the shoals, those treacherous sandbanks that could rip open a vessel and end the voyage in ruin. Thus, he waited. His men may have been eager, his heart may have burned with discovery, but he did not surrender to haste. His prudence in that moment ensured that dawn, not disaster, would greet them.

In the morning, the course resumed. Yet even then, Columbus found the sea resisting him. The tide was against us, he writes, and what seemed close at hand required many more hours of toil. Here again lies the lesson: destiny does not yield to desire alone. Even when the goal is visible, the forces of the world may delay our arrival. Noon, not dawn, brought them to the island, but the waiting did not diminish the triumph. Indeed, it made the landing all the more profound, for it was bought with patience, endurance, and steadfastness.

The ancients themselves faced such trials. Recall Odysseus, who, though in sight of Ithaca, was driven back by the winds of Poseidon, forced to wander long before he could embrace his home. Columbus’s words echo the same truth: that the journey often tests us most severely at its end, when we see the goal yet cannot touch it. It is then that many falter, losing heart when patience is most required. Yet those who endure, like Odysseus, like Columbus, at last set foot upon the shore.

Columbus’s account, though born of navigation, speaks also to the voyage of every human soul. How often do we, too, stand off and on through the long night, uncertain of where to anchor, fearing the shoals of error or failure? How often does the tide resist us, though our destination lies within sight? His words remind us that it is not haste that wins the shore, but constancy. The one who waits with prudence, who sails with patience, arrives safely where the reckless founder.

The meaning for us, then, is clear: in life’s great journeys, both daring and caution must walk hand in hand. The explorer who rushes blindly is destroyed by hidden shoals; the one who hesitates forever never leaves the open sea. Columbus shows the middle path: proceed, but wisely; wait, but not endlessly; trust that dawn will reveal what the night conceals.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, let this be your practice: when faced with uncertainty, do not fear to pause, but neither abandon the course. Hold steady through the night, guard against unseen dangers, and when the morning comes, continue forward with courage. Accept that the tide may be against you, but know also that perseverance will bring you to shore. And when at last you arrive—be it at noon or at dusk—your triumph will be no less radiant for the waiting.

So remember Columbus’s words: every shore is reached not in haste, but in patience; not by ignoring danger, but by respecting it; not in the moment we desire, but in the hour destiny grants. Walk your path as he sailed his seas—with courage tempered by wisdom—and you too shall arrive.