Christopher Columbus and the New World - Book 5



BOOK 5 - DESPERATE REMEDIES 

CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE TO CUBA 

The sight of the greater part of their fleet disappearing in the direction 
of home threw back the unstable Spanish colony into doubt and despondency. 
The brief encouragement afforded by Ojeda's report soon died away, and the 
actual discomforts of life in Isabella were more important than visionary 
luxuries that seemed to recede into the distance with the vanishing ships. 
The food supply was the cause of much discomfort; the jobbery and 
dishonesty which seem inseparable from the fitting out of a large 
expedition had stored the ships with bad wine and imperfectly cured 
provisions; and these combined with the unhealthy climate to produce a 
good deal of sickness. The feeling against Columbus, never far below the 
Spanish surface, began to express itself definitely in treacherous 
consultations and plots; and these were fomented by Bernal Diaz, the 
comptroller of the colony, who had access to Columbus's papers and had 
seen the letter sent by him to Spain. Columbus was at this time prostrated 
by an attack of fever, and Diaz took the opportunity to work the growing 
discontent up to the point of action. He told the colonists that Columbus 
had painted their condition in far too favourable terms; that he was 
deceiving them as well as the Sovereigns; and a plot was hatched to seize 
the ships that remained and sail for home, leaving Columbus behind to 
enjoy the riches that he had falsely boasted about. They were ready to 
take alarm at anything, and to believe anything one way or the other; and 
as they had believed Ojeda when he came back with his report of riches, 
now they believed Cado, the assayer, who said that even such gold as had 
been found was of a very poor and worthless quality. The mutiny developed 
fast; and a table of charges against Columbus, which was to be produced in 
Spain as a justification for it, had actually been drawn up when the 
Admiral, recovering from his illness, discovered what was on foot. He 
dealt promptly and firmly with it in his quarterdeck manner, which was 
always far more effective than his viceregal manner. Diaz was imprisoned 
and lodged in chains on board one of the ships, to be sent to Spain for 
trial; and the other ringleaders were punished also according to their 
deserts. The guns and ammunition were all stored together on one ship 
under a safe guard, and the mutiny was stamped out. But the Spaniards did 
not love Columbus any the better for it; did not any the more easily 
forgive him for being in command of them and for being a foreigner. 

But it would never do for the colony to stagnate in Isabella, and Columbus 
decided to make a serious attempt, not merely to discover the gold of 
Cibao, but to get it. He therefore organised a military expedition of 
about 400 men, including artificers, miners, and carriers, with the little 
cavalry force that had been brought out from Spain. Every one who had 
armour wore it, flags and banners were carried, drums and trumpets were 
sounded; the horses were decked out in rich caparisons, and as glittering 
and formidable a show was made as possible. Leaving his brother James in 
command of the settlement, Columbus set out on the 12th of March to the 
interior of the island. Through the forest and up the mountainside a road 
was cut by pioneers from among the aristocratic adventurers who had come 
with the party; which road, the first made in the New World, was called El 
Puerto de los Hidalgos. The formidable, glittering cavalcade inspired the 
natives with terror and amazement; they had never seen horses before, and 
when one of the soldiers dismounted it seemed to them as though some 
terrifying two-headed, six-limbed beast had come asunder. What with their 
fright of the horses and their desire to possess the trinkets that were 
carried they were very friendly and hospitable, and supplied the 
expedition with plenty of food. At last, after passing mountain ranges 
that made their hearts faint, and rich valleys that made them hopeful 
again, the explorers came to the mountains of Cibao, and passing over the 
first range found themselves in a little valley at the foot of the hills 
where a river wound round a fertile plain and there was ample 
accommodation for an encampment. There were the usual signs of gold, and 
Columbus saw in the brightly coloured stones of the river-bed evidence of 
unbounded wealth in precious stones. At last he had come to the place! He 
who had doubted so much, and whose faith had wavered, had now been led to 
a place where he could touch and handle the gold and jewels of his desire; 
and he therefore called the place Saint Thomas. He built a fort here, 
leaving a garrison of fifty-six men under the command of Pedro Margarite 
to collect gold from the natives, and himself returned to Isabella, which 
he reached at the end of March. 

Enforced absence from the thing he has organised is a great test of 
efficiency in any man. The world is full of men who can do things 
themselves; but those who can organise from the industry of their men a 
machine which will steadily perform the work whether the organiser is 
absent or present are rare indeed. Columbus was one of the first class. 
His own power and personality generally gave him some kind of mastery over 
any circumstances in which he was immediately concerned; but let him be 
absent for a little time, and his organisation went to pieces. No one was 
better than he at conducting a one-man concern; and his conduct of the 
first voyage, so long as he had his company under his immediate command, 
was a model of efficiency. But when the material under his command began 
to grow and to be divided into groups his life became a succession of ups 
and downs. While he was settling and disciplining one group mutiny and 
disorder would attack the other; and when he went to attend to them, the 
first one immediately fell into confusion again. He dealt with the 
discontent in Isabella, organising the better disposed part of it in 
productive labour, and himself marching the malcontents into something 
like discipline and order, leaving them at Saint Thomas, as we have seen, 
usefully collecting gold. But while he was away the people at Isabella had 
got themselves into trouble again, and when he arrived there on the 
morning of March 29th he found the town in a deplorable condition. The 
lake beside which the city had been built, and which seemed so attractive 
and healthy a spot, turned out to be nothing better than a fever trap. 
Drained from the malarial marshes, its sickly exhalations soon produced an 
epidemic that incapacitated more than half the colony and interrupted the 
building operations. The time of those who were well was entirely occupied 
with the care of those who were sick, and all productive work was at a 
standstill. The reeking virgin soil had produced crops in an incredibly 
short time, and the sowings of January were ready for reaping in the 
beginning of April. But there was no one to reap them, and the further 
cultivation of the ground had necessarily been neglected. 

The faint-hearted Spaniards, who never could meet any trouble without 
grumbling, were now in the depths of despair and angry discontent; and it 
had not pleased them to be put on a short allowance of even the 
unwholesome provisions that remained from the original store. A couple of 
rude hand-mills had been erected for the making of flour, and as food was 
the first necessity Columbus immediately put all the able-bodied men in 
the colony, whatever their rank, to the elementary manual work of 
grinding. Friar Buil and the twelve Benedictine brothers who were with him 
thought this a wise order, assuming of course that as clerics they would 
not be asked to work. But great was their astonishment, and loud and angry 
their criticism of the Admiral, when they found that they also were 
obliged to labour with their hands. But Columbus was firm; there were 
absolutely no exceptions made; hidalgo and priest had to work alongside of 
sailor and labourer; and the curses of the living mingled with those of 
the dying on the man whose boastful words had brought them to such a place 
and such a condition. 

It was only in the nature of things that news should now arrive of trouble 
at Saint Thomas. Gold and women again; instead of bartering or digging, 
the Spaniards had been stealing; and discipline had been relaxed, with the 
usual disastrous results with regard to the women of the adjacent native 
tribes. Pedro Margarite sent a nervous message to Columbus expressing his 
fear that Caonabo, the native king, should be exasperated to the point of 
attacking them again. Columbus therefore despatched Ojeda in command of a 
force of 350 armed men to Saint Thomas with instructions that he was to 
take over the command of that post, while Margarite was to take out an 
expedition in search of Caonabo whom, with his brothers, Margarite was 
instructed to capture at all costs. 

Having thus set things going in the interior, and once more restored 
Isabella to something like order, he decided to take three ships and 
attempt to discover the coast of Cathay. The old Nina, the San Juan, and 
the Cordera, three small caravels, were provisioned for six months and 
manned by a company of fifty-two men. Francisco Nino went once more with 
the Admiral as pilot, and the faithful Juan de la Cosa was taken to draw 
charts; one of the monks also, to act as chaplain. The Admiral had a 
steward, a secretary, ten seamen and six boys to complete the company on 
the Nina. The San Juan was commanded by Alonso Perez Roldan and the 
Cordera by Christoval Nino. Diego was again left in command of the colony, 
with four counsellors, Friar Buil, Fernandez Coronel, Alonso Sanchez 
Carvajal, and Juan de Luxan, to assist his authority. 

The Admiral sailed on April 24th, steering to the westward and touching at 
La Navidad before he bore away to the island of Cuba, the southern shore 
of which it was now his intention to explore. At one of his first 
anchorages he discovered a native feast going on, and when the boats from 
his ships pulled ashore the feasters fled in terror--the hungry Spaniards 
finishing their meal for them. Presently, however, the feasters were 
induced to come back, and Columbus with soft speeches made them a 
compensation for the food that had been taken, and produced a favourable 
impression, as his habit was; with the result that all along the coast he 
was kindly received by the natives, who supplied him with food and fresh 
fruit in return for trinkets. At the harbour now known as Santiago de 
Cuba, where he anchored on May 2nd, he had what seemed like authentic 
information of a great island to the southward which was alleged to be the 
source of all the gold. The very compasses of Columbus's ships seem by 
this time to have become demagnetised, and to have pointed only to gold; 
for no sooner had he heard this report than he bore away to the south in 
pursuit of that faint yellow glitter that had now quite taken the place of 
the original inner light of faith. 

The low coast of Jamaica, hazy and blue at first, but afterwards warming 
into a golden belt crowned by the paler and deeper greens of the foliage, 
was sighted first by Columbus on Sunday, May 4th; and he anchored the next 
day in the beautiful harbour of Saint Anne, to which he gave the name of 
Santa Gloria. To the island itself he gave the name of Santiago, which 
however has never displaced its native name of Jamaica. The dim blue 
mountains and clumps of lofty trees about the bay were wonderful even to 
Columbus, whose eyes must by this time have been growing accustomed to the 
beauty of the West Indies, and he lost his heart to Jamaica from the first 
moment that his eyes rested on its green and golden shores. Perhaps he was 
by this time a little out of conceit with Hayti; but be that as it may he 
retracted all the superlatives he had ever used for the other lands of his 
discovery, and bestowed them in his heart upon Jamaica. 

He was not humanly so well received as he had been on the other islands, 
for when he cast anchor the natives came out in canoes threatening 
hostilities and had to be appeased with red caps and hawks' bells. Next 
day, however, Columbus wished to careen his ships, and sailed a little to 
the west until he found a suitable beach at Puerto Bueno; and as he 
approached the shore some large canoes filled with painted and feathered 
warriors came out and attacked his ships, showering arrows and javelins, 
and whooping and screaming at the Spaniards. The guns were discharged, and 
an armed party sent ashore in a boat, and the natives were soon put to 
flight. There was no renewal of hostilities; the next day the local 
cacique came down offering provisions and help; presents were exchanged, 
and cordial relations established. Columbus noticed that the Jamaicans 
seemed to be a much more virile community than either the Cubans or the 
people of Espanola. They had enormous canoes hollowed out of single 
mahogany trees, some of them 96 feet long and 8 feet broad, which they 
handled with the greatest ease and dexterity; they had a merry way with 
them too, were quick of apprehension and clever at expressing their 
meaning, and in their domestic utensils and implements they showed an 
advance in civilisation on the other islanders of the group. Columbus did 
some trade with the islanders as he sailed along the coast, but he does 
not seem to have believed much in the gold story, for after sailing to the 
western point of the island he bore away to the north again and sighted 
the coast of Cuba on the 18th of May. 

The reason why Columbus kept returning to the coast of Cuba was that he 
believed it to be the mainland of Asia. The unlettered natives, who had 
never read Marco Polo, told him that it was an island, although no man had 
ever seen the end of it; but Columbus did not believe them, and sailed 
westward in the belief that he would presently come upon the country and 
city of Cathay. Soon he found himself in the wonderful labyrinth of islets 
and sandbanks off the south coast; and because of the wonderful colours of 
their flowers and climbing plants he called them Jardin de la Reina or 
Queen's Garden. Dangerous as the navigation through these islands was, he 
preferred to risk the shoals and sandbanks rather than round them out at 
sea to the southward, for he believed them to be the islands which, 
according to Marco Polo, lay in masses along the coast of Cathay. In this 
adventure he had a very hard time of it; the lead had to be used all the 
time, the ships often had to be towed, the wind veered round from every 
quarter of the compass, and there were squalls and tempests, and currents 
that threatened to set them ashore. By great good fortune, however, they 
managed to get through the Archipelago without mishap. By June 3rd they 
were sailing along the coast again, and Columbus had some conversation 
with an old cacique who told him of a province called Mangon (or so 
Columbus understood him) that lay to the west. Sir John Mandeville had 
described the province of Mangi as being the richest in Cathay; and of 
course, thought the Admiral, this must be the place. He went westward past 
the Gulf of Xagua and got into the shallow sandy waters, now known as the 
Jardinillos Bank, where the sea was whitened with particles of sand. When 
he had got clear of this shoal water he stood across a broad bay towards a 
native settlement where he was able to take in yams, fruit, fish, and 
fresh water. 

But this excitement and hard work were telling on the Admiral, and when a 
native told him that there was a tribe close by with long tails, he 
believed him; and later, when one of his men, coming back from a shore 
expedition, reported that he had seen some figures in a forest wearing 
white robes, Columbus believed that they were the people with the tails, 
who wore a long garment to conceal them. 

He was moving in a world of enchantment; the weather was like no weather 
in any known part of the world; there were fogs, black and thick, which 
blew down suddenly from the low marshy land, and blew away again as 
suddenly; the sea was sometimes white as milk, sometimes black as pitch, 
sometimes purple, sometimes green; scarlet cranes stood looking at them as 
they slid past the low sandbanks; the warm foggy air smelt of roses; 
shoals of turtles covered the waters, black butterflies circled in the 
mist; and the fever that was beginning to work in the Admiral's blood 
mounted to his brain, so that in this land of bad dreams his fixed ideas 
began to dominate all his other faculties, and he decided that he must 
certainly be on the coast of Cathay, in the magic land described by Marco 
Polo. 

There is nothing which illustrates the arbitrary and despotic government 
of sea life so well as the nautical phrase "make it so." The very hours of 
the day, slipping westward under the keel of an east-going ship, are 
"made" by rigid decree; the captain takes his observation of sun or stars, 
and announces the position of the ship to be at a certain spot on the 
surface of the globe; any errors of judgment or deficiencies of method are 
covered by the words "make it so." And in all the elusive phenomena 
surrounding him the fevered brain of the Admiral discerned evidence that 
he was really upon the coast of Asia, although there was no method by 
which he could place the matter beyond a doubt. The word Asia was not 
printed upon the sands of Cuba, as it might be upon a map; the lines of 
longitude did not lie visibly across the surface of the sea; there was 
nothing but sea and land, the Admiral's charts, and his own conviction. 
Therefore Columbus decided to "make it so." If there was no other way of 
being sure that this was the coast of Cathay, he would decree it to be the 
coast of Cathay by a legal document and by oaths and affidavits. He would 
force upon the members of his expedition a conviction at least equal to 
his own; and instead of pursuing any further the coast that stretched 
interminably west and south-west, he decided to say, in effect, and once 
and for all, "Let this be the mainland of Asia." 

He called his secretary to him and made him draw up a form of oath or 
testament, to which every member of the expedition was required to 
subscribe, affirming that the land off which they were then lying (12th 
June 1494), was the mainland of the Indies and that it was possible to 
return to Spain by land from that place; and every officer who should ever 
deny it in the future was laid under a penalty of ten thousand maravedis, 
and every ship's boy or seaman under a penalty of one hundred lashes; and 
in addition, any member of the expedition denying it in the future was to 
have his tongue cut out. 

No one will pretend that this was the action of a sane man; neither will 
any one wonder that Columbus was something less than sane after all he had 
gone through, and with the beginnings of a serious illness already in his 
blood. His achievement was slipping from his grasp; the gold had not been 
found, the wonders of the East had not been discovered; and it was his 
instinct to secure something from the general wreck that seemed to be 
falling about him, and to force his own dreams to come true, that caused 
him to cut this grim and fantastic legal caper off the coast of Cuba. He 
thought it at the time unlikely, seeing the difficulties of navigation 
that he had gone through, which he might be pardoned for regarding as 
insuperable to a less skilful mariner, that any one should ever come that 
way again; even he himself said that he would never risk his life again in 
such a place. He wished his journey, therefore, not to have been made in 
vain; and as he himself believed that he had stood on the mainland of Asia 
he took care to take back with him the only kind of evidence that was 
possible namely, the sworn affidavits of the ships' crews. 

Perhaps in his madness he would really have gone on and tried to reach the 
Golden Chersonesus of Ptolemy, which according to Marco Polo lay just 
beyond, and so to steer homeward round Ceylon and the Cape of Good Hope; 
in which case he would either have been lost or would have discovered 
Mexico. The crews, however, would not hear of the voyage being continued 
westward. The ships were leaking and the salt water was spoiling the 
already doubtful provisions and he was forced to turn back. He stood to 
the south-east, and reached the Isle of Pines, to which he gave the name 
of Evangelista, where the water-casks were filled, and from there he tried 
to sail back to the east. But he found himself surrounded by islands and 
banks in every direction, which made any straight course impossible. He 
sailed south and east and west and north, and found himself always back 
again in the middle of this charmed group of islands. He spent almost a 
month trying to escape from them, and once his ship went ashore on a 
sandbank and was only warped off with the greatest difficulty. On July 7th 
he was back again in the region of the "Queen's Gardens," from which he 
stood across to the coast of Cuba. 

He anchored and landed there, and being in great distress and difficulty 
he had a large cross erected on the mainland, and had mass said. When the 
Spaniards rose from their knees they saw an old native man observing them; 
and the old man came and sat down beside Columbus and talked to him 
through the interpreter. He told him that he had been in Jamaica and 
Espanola as well as in Cuba, and that the coming of the Spaniards had 
caused great distress to the people of the islands. 

He then spoke to Columbus about religion, and the gist of what he said was 
something like this: "The performance of your worship seems good to me. 
You believe that this life is not everything; so do we; and I know that 
when this life is over there are two places reserved for me, to one of 
which I shall certainly go; one happy and beautiful, one dreadful and 
miserable. Joy and kindness reign in the one place, which is good enough 
for the best of men; and they will go there who while they have lived on 
the earth have loved peace and goodness, and who have never robbed or 
killed or been unkind. The other place is evil and full of shadows, and is 
reserved for those who disturb and hurt the sons of men; how important it 
is, therefore, that one should do no evil or injury in this world!" 

Columbus replied with a brief statement of his own theological views, and 
added that he had been sent to find out if there were any persons in those 
islands who did evil to others, such as the Caribs or cannibals, and that 
if so he had come to punish them. The effect of this ingenuous speech was 
heightened by a gift of hawks' bells and pieces of broken glass; upon 
receiving which the good old man fell down on his knees, and said that the 
Spaniards must surely have come from heaven. 

A few days later the voyage to the, south-east was resumed, and some 
progress was made along the coast. But contrary winds arose which made it 
impossible for the ships to round Cape Cruz, and Columbus decided to 
employ the time of waiting in completing his explorations in Jamaica. He 
therefore sailed due south until he once more sighted the beautiful 
northern coast of that island, following it to the west and landing, as 
his custom was, whenever he saw a good harbour or anchorage. The wind was 
still from the east, and he spent a month beating to the eastward along 
the south coast of the island, fascinated by its beauty, and willing to 
stay and explore it, but prevented by the discontent of his crews, who 
were only anxious to get back to Espanola. He had friendly interviews with 
many of the natives of Jamaica, and at almost the last harbour at which he 
touched a cacique with his wife and family and complete retinue came off 
in canoes to the ship, begging Columbus to take him and his household back 
to Spain. 

Columbus considers this family, and thinks wistfully how well they would 
look in Barcelona. Father dressed in a cap of gold and green jewels, 
necklace and earrings of the same; mother decked out in similar regalia, 
with the addition of a small cotton apron; two sons and five brothers 
dressed principally in a feather or two; two daughters mother-naked, 
except that the elder, a handsome girl of eighteen, wears a jewelled 
girdle from which depends a tablet as big as an ivy leaf, made of various 
coloured stones embroidered on cotton. What an exhibit for one of the 
triumphal processions: "Native royal family, complete"! But Columbus 
thinks also of the scarcity of provisions on board his ships, and wonders 
how all these royalties would like to live on a pint of sour wine and a 
rotten biscuit each per day. Alas! there is not sour wine and rotten 
biscuit enough for his own people; it is still a long way to Espanola; and 
he is obliged to make polite excuses, and to say that he will come back 
for his majesty another time. 

It was on the 20th of August that Columbus, having the day before seen the 
last of the dim blue hills of Jamaica, sighted again the long peninsula of 
Hayti, called by him Cape San Miguel, but known to us as Cape Tiburon; 
although it was not until he was hailed by a cacique who called out to him 
"Almirante, Almirante," that the seaworn mariners realised with joy that 
the island must be Espanola. But they were a long way from Isabella yet. 
They sailed along the south coast, meeting contrary winds, and at one 
point landing nine men who were to cross the island, and try to reach 
Isabella by land. Week followed week, and they made very poor progress. In 
the beginning of September they were caught in a severe tempest, which 
separated the ships for a time, and held the Admiral weather-bound for 
eight days. There was an eclipse of the moon during this period, and he 
took advantage of it to make an observation for longitude, by which he 
found himself to be 5 hrs. 23 min., or 80 deg. 40', west of Cadiz. In this 
observation there is an error of eighteen degrees, the true longitude of 
the island of Saona, where the observation was taken, being 62 deg. 20' 
west of Cadiz; and the error is accounted for partly by the inaccuracy of 
the tables of Regiomontanus and partly by the crudity and inexactness of 
the Admiral's methods. On the 24th of September they at last reached the 
easternmost point of Espanola, named by Columbus San Rafael. They stood to 
the east a little longer, and discovered the little island of Mona, which 
lies between Espanola and Puerto Rico; and from thence shaped their course 
west-by-north for Isabella. And no sooner had the course been set for home 
than the Admiral suddenly and completely collapsed; was carried 
unconscious to his cabin; and lay there in such extremity that his 
companions gave him up for lost. 

It is no ordinary strain to which poor Christopher has succumbed. He has 
been five months at sea, sharing with the common sailors their bad food 
and weary vigils, but bearing alone on his own shoulders a weight of 
anxiety of which they knew nothing. Watch has relieved watch on his ships, 
but there has been no one to relieve him, or to lift the burden from his 
mind. The eyes of a nation are upon him, watchful and jealous eyes that 
will not forgive him any failure; and to earn their approval he has taken 
this voyage of five months, during which he has only been able to forget 
his troubles in the brief hours of slumber. Strange uncharted seas, 
treacherous winds and currents, drenching surges have all done their part 
in bringing him to this pass; and his body, now starved on rotten 
biscuits, now glutted with unfamiliar fruits, has been preyed upon by the 
tortured mind as the mind itself has been shaken and loosened by the 
weakness of the body. He lies there in his cabin in a deep stupor; memory, 
sight, and all sensation completely gone from him; dead but for the heart 
that beats on faintly, and the breath that comes and goes through the 
parted lips. Nino, de la Cosa, and the others come and look at him, shake 
their heads, and go away again. There is nothing to be done; perhaps they 
will get him back to Isabella in time to bury him there; perhaps not. 

And meanwhile they are back again in calm and safe waters, and coasting a 
familiar shore; and the faithful little Nina, shaking out her wings in the 
sunny breezes, trips under the guidance of unfamiliar hands towards her 
moorings in the Bay of Isabella. It is a sad company that she carries; for 
in the cabin, deaf and blind and unconscious, there lies the heart and 
guiding spirit of the New World. He does not hear the talking of the 
waters past the Nina's timbers, does not hear the stamping on the deck and 
shortening of sail and unstopping of cables and getting out of gear; does 
not hear the splash of the anchor, nor the screams of birds that rise 
circling from the shore. Does not hear the greetings and the news; does 
not see bending over him a kind, helpful, and well-beloved face. He sees 
and hears and knows nothing; and in that state of rest and absence from 
the body they carry him, still living and breathing, ashore.



CHAPTER II.
THE CONQUEST OF ESPANOLA 

We must now go back to the time when Columbus, having made what 
arrangements he could for the safety of Espanola, left it under the charge 
of his brother James. Ojeda had duly marched into the interior and taken 
over the command of Fort St. Thomas, thus setting free Margarite, 
according to his instructions, to lead an expedition for purposes of 
reconnoitre and demonstration through the island. These, at any rate, were 
Margarite's orders, duly communicated to him by Ojeda; but Margarite will 
have none of them. Well born, well educated, well bred, he ought at least 
to have the spirit to carry out orders so agreeable to a gentleman of 
adventure; but unfortunately, although Margarite is a gentleman by birth, 
he is a low and dishonest dog by nature. He cannot take the decent course, 
cannot even play the man, and take his share in the military work of the 
colony. Instead of cutting paths through the forest, and exhibiting his 
military strength in an orderly and proper way as the Admiral intended he 
should, he marches forth from St. Thomas, on hearing that Columbus has 
sailed away, and encamps no further off than the Vega Real, that pleasant 
place of green valleys and groves and murmuring rivers. He encamps there, 
takes up his quarters there, will not budge from there for any Admiral; 
and as for James Columbus and his counsellors, they may go to the devil 
for all Margarite cares. One of them at least, he knows--Friar Buil--is 
not such a fool as to sit down under the command of that solemn-faced, 
uncouth young snip from Genoa; and doubtless when he is tired of the Vega 
Real he and Buil can arrange something between them. In the meantime, here 
is a very beautiful sunshiny place, abounding in all kinds of provisions; 
food for more than one kind of appetite, as he has noticed when he has 
thrust his rude way into the native houses and seen the shapely daughters 
of the islanders. He has a little army of soldiers to forage for him; they 
can get him food and gold, and they are useful also in those other 
marauding expeditions designed to replenish the seraglio that he has 
established in his camp; and if they like to do a little marauding and 
woman-stealing on their own account, it is no affair of his, and may keep 
the devils in a good temper. Thus Don Pedro Margarite to himself. 

The peaceable and gentle natives soon began to resent these gross doings. 
To robbery succeeded outrage, and to outrage murder--all three committed 
in the very houses of the natives; and they began to murmur, to withhold 
that goodwill which the Spaniards had so sorely tried, and to develop a 
threatening attitude that was soon communicated to the natives in the 
vicinity of Isabella, and came under the notice of James Columbus and his 
council. Grave, bookish, wool-weaving young James, not used to military 
affairs, and not at all comfortable in his command, can think of no other 
expedient than--to write a letter to Margarite remonstrating with him for 
his licentious excesses and reminding him of the Admiral's instructions, 
which were being neglected. 

Margarite receives the letter and reads it with a contemptuous laugh. He 
is not going to be ordered about by a family of Italian wool-weavers, and 
the only change in his conduct is that he becomes more and more careless 
and impudent, extending the area of his lawless operations, and making 
frequent visits to Isabella itself, swaggering under the very nose of 
solemn James, and soon deep in consultation with Friar Buil. 

At this moment, that is to say very soon after the departure of 
Christopher on his voyage to Cuba and Jamaica, three ships dropped anchor 
in the Bay of Isabella. They were laden with the much-needed supplies from 
Spain, and had been sent out under the command of Bartholomew Columbus. It 
will be remembered that when Christopher reached Spain after his first 
voyage one of his first cares had been to write to Bartholomew, asking him 
to join him. The letter, doubtless after many wanderings, had found 
Bartholomew in France at the court of Charles VIII., by whom he was held 
in some esteem; in fact it was Charles who provided him with the necessary 
money for his journey to Spain, for Bartholomew had not greatly prospered, 
in spite of his voyage with Diaz to the Cape of Good Hope and of his 
having been in England making exploration proposals at the court of Henry 
VII. He had arrived in Spain after Columbus had sailed again, and had 
presented himself at court with his two nephews, Ferdinand and Diego, both 
of whom were now in the service of Prince Juan as pages. Ferdinand and 
Isabella seem to have received Bartholomew kindly. They liked this capable 
navigator, who had much of Christopher's charm of manner, and was more a 
man of the world than he. Much more practical also; Ferdinand would be 
sure to like him better than he liked Christopher, whose pompous manner 
and long-winded speeches bored him. Bartholomew was quick, alert, decisive 
and practical; he was an accomplished navigator--almost as accomplished as 
Columbus, as it appeared. He was offered the command of the three ships 
which were being prepared to go to Espanola with supplies; and he duly 
arrived there after a prosperous voyage. It will be remembered that 
Christopher had, so far as we know, kept the secret of the road to the new 
islands; and Bartholomew can have had nothing more to guide him than a 
rough chart showing the islands in a certain latitude, and the distance to 
be run towards them by dead-reckoning. That he should have made an exact 
landfall and sailed into the Bay of Isabella, never having been there 
before, was a certificate of the highest skill in navigation. 

Unfortunately it was James who was in charge of the colony; Bartholomew 
had no authority, for once his ships had arrived in port his mission was 
accomplished until Christopher should return and find him employment. He 
was therefore forced to sit still and watch his young brother struggling 
with the unruly Spaniards. His presence, however, was no doubt a further 
exasperation to the malcontents. There existed in Isabella a little 
faction of some of the aristocrats who had never, forgiven Columbus for 
employing them in degrading manual labour; who had never forgiven him in 
fact for being there at all, and in command over them. And now here was 
another woolweaver, or son of a wool-weaver, come to put his finger in the 
pie that Christopher has apparently provided so carefully for himself and 
his family. 

Margarite and Buil and some others, treacherous scoundrels all of them, 
but clannish to their own race and class, decide that they will put up 
with it no longer; they are tired of Espanola in any case, and Margarite, 
from too free indulgence among the native women, has contracted an 
unpleasant disease, and thinks that a sea voyage and the attentions of a 
Spanish doctor will be good for him. It is easy for them to put their plot 
into execution. There are the ships; there is nothing, for them to do but 
take a couple of them, provision them, and set sail for Spain, where they 
trust to their own influence, and the story they will be able to tell of 
the falseness of the Admiral's promises, to excuse their breach of 
discipline. And sail they do, snapping their fingers at the wool-weavers. 

James and Bartholomew were perhaps glad to be rid of them, but their 
relief was tempered with anxiety as to the result on Christopher's 
reputation and favour when the malcontents should have made their false 
representations at Court. The brothers were powerless to do anything in 
that matter, however, and the state of affairs in Espanola demanded their 
close attention. Margarite's little army, finding itself without even the 
uncertain restraint of its commander, now openly mutinied and abandoned 
itself to the wildest excesses. It became scattered and disbanded, and 
little groups of soldiers went wandering about the country, robbing and 
outraging and carrying cruelty and oppression among the natives. Long-
suffering as these were, and patiently as they bore with the unspeakable 
barbarities of the Spanish soldiers, there came a point beyond which their 
forbearance would not go. An aching spirit of unforgiveness and revenge 
took the place of their former gentleness and compliance; and here and 
there, when the Spaniards were more brutal and less cautious than was 
their brutal and incautious habit, the natives fell upon them and took 
swift and bloody revenge. Small parties found themselves besieged and put 
to death whole villages, whose hospitality had been abused, cut off 
wandering groups of the marauders and burned the houses where they lodged. 
The disaffection spread; and Caonabo, who had never abated his resentment 
at the Spanish intrusion into the island, thought the time had come to 
make another demonstration of native power. 

Fortunately for the Spaniards his object was the fort of St. Thomas, 
commanded by the alert Ojeda; and this young man, who was not easily to be 
caught napping, had timely intelligence of his intention. When Caonabo, 
mustering ten thousand men, suddenly surrounded the fort and prepared to 
attack it, he found the fifty Spaniards of the garrison more than ready 
for him, and his naked savages dared not advance within the range of the 
crossbows and arquebuses. Caonabo tried to besiege the station, watching 
every gorge and road through which supplies could reach it, but Ojeda made 
sallies and raids upon the native force, under which it became thinned and 
discouraged; and Caonabo had finally to withdraw to his own territory. 

But he was not yet beaten. He decided upon another and much larger 
enterprise, which was to induce the other caciques of the island to co- 
operate with him in an attack upon Isabella, the population of which he 
knew would have been much thinned and weakened by disease. The island was 
divided into five native provinces. The northeastern part, named Marien, 
was under the rule of Guacanagari, whose headquarters were near the 
abandoned La Navidad. The remaining eastern part of the island, called 
Higuay, was under a chief named Cotabanama. The western province was 
Xaragua, governed by one Behechio, whose sister, Anacaona, was the wife of 
Caonabo. The middle of the island was divided into two provinces-that 
which extended from the northern coast to the Cibao mountains and included 
the Vega Real being governed by Guarionex, and that which extended from 
the Cibao mountains to the south being governed by Caonabo. All these 
rulers were more or less embittered by the outrages and cruelties of the 
Spaniards, and all agreed to join with Caonabo except Guacanagari. That 
loyal soul, so faithful to what he knew of good, shocked and distressed as 
he was by outrages from which his own people had suffered no less than the 
others, could not bring himself to commit what he regarded as a breach of 
the laws of hospitality. It was upon his shores that Columbus had first 
landed; and although it was his own country and his own people whose 
wrongs were to be avenged, he could not bring himself to turn traitor to 
the grave Admiral with whom, in those happy days of the past, he had 
enjoyed so much pleasant intercourse. His refusal to co-operate delayed 
the plan of Caonabo, who directed the island coalition against Guacanagari 
himself in order to bring him to reason. He was attacked by the 
neighbouring chiefs; one of his wives was killed and another captured; but 
still he would not swerve from his ideal of conduct. 

The first thing that Columbus recognised when he opened his eyes after his 
long period of lethargy and insensibility was the face of his brother 
Bartholomew bend-over him where he lay in bed in his own house at 
Espanola. Nothing could have been more welcome to him, sick, lonely and 
discouraged as he was, than the presence of that strong, helpful brother; 
and from the time when Bartholomew's friendly face first greeted him he 
began to get better. His first act, as soon as he was strong enough to 
sign a paper, was to appoint Bartholomew to the office of Adelantado, or 
Lieutenant-Governor--an indiscreet and rather tactless proceeding which, 
although it was not outside his power as a bearer of the royal seal, was 
afterwards resented by King Ferdinand as a piece of impudent encroachment 
upon the royal prerogative. But Columbus was unable to transact business 
himself, and James was manifestly of little use; the action was natural 
enough. 

In the early days of his convalescence he had another pleasant experience, 
in the shape of a visit from Guacanagari, who came to express his concern 
at the Admiral's illness, and to tell him the story of what had been going 
on in his absence. The gentle creature referred again with tears to the 
massacre at La Navidad, and again asserted that innocence of any hand in 
it which Columbus had happily never doubted; and he told him also of the 
secret league against Isabella, of his own refusal to join it, and of the 
attacks to which he had consequently been subjected. It must have been an 
affecting meeting for these two, who represented the first friendship 
formed between the Old World and the New, who were both of them destined 
to suffer in the impact of civilisation and savagery, and whose names and 
characters were happily destined to survive that impact, and to triumph 
over the oblivion of centuries. 

So long as the native population remained hostile and unconquered by 
kindness or force, it was impossible to work securely at the development 
of the colony; and Columbus, however regretfully, had come to feel that 
circumstances more or less obliged him to use force. At first he did not 
quite realise the gravity of the position, and attempted to conquer or 
reconcile the natives in little groups. Guarionex, the cacique of the Vega 
Real, was by gifts and smooth words soothed back into a friendship which 
was consolidated by the marriage of his daughter with Columbus's native 
interpreter. It was useless, how ever, to try and make friends with 
Caonabo, that fierce irreconcilable; and it was felt that only by 
stratagem could he be secured. No sooner was this suggested than Ojeda 
volunteered for the service. Amid the somewhat slow-moving figures of our 
story this man appears as lively as a flea; and he dances across our pages 
in a sensation of intrepid feats of arms that make his great popularity 
among the Spaniards easily credible to us. He did not know what fear was; 
he was always ready for a fight of any kind; a quarrel in the streets of 
Madrid, a duel, a fight with a man or a wild beast, a brawl in a tavern or 
a military expedition, were all the same to him, if only they gave him an 
opportunity for fighting. He had a little picture of the Virgin hung round 
his neck, by which he swore, and to which he prayed; he had never been so 
much as scratched in all his affrays, and he believed that he led a 
charmed life. Who would go out against Caonabo, the Goliath of the island? 
He, little David Ojeda, he would go out and undertake to fetch the giant 
back with him; and all he wanted was ten men, a pair of handcuffs, a 
handful of trinkets, horses for the whole of his company, and his little 
image or picture of the Virgin. 

Columbus may have smiled at this proposal, but he knew his man; and Ojeda 
duly departed with his horses and his ten men. Plunging into the forest, 
he made his way through sixty leagues of dense undergrowth until he 
arrived in the very heart of Caonabo's territory and presented himself at 
the chiefs house. The chief was at home, and, not unimpressed by the 
valour of Ojeda, who represented himself as coming on a friendly mission, 
received him under conditions of truce. He had an eye for military 
prowess, this Caonabo, and something of the lion's heart in him; he 
recognised in Ojeda the little man who kept him so long at bay outside 
Fort St. Thomas; and, after the manner of lion-hearted people, liked him 
none the worse for that. 

Ojeda proposes that the King should accompany him to Isabella to make 
peace. No, says Caonabo. Then Ojeda tries another way. There is a poetical 
side to this big fighting savage, and often in more friendly days, when 
the bell in the little chapel of Isabella has been ringing for Vespers, 
the cacique has been observed sitting alone on some hill listening, 
enchanted by the strange silver voice that floated to him across the 
sunset. The bell has indeed become something of a personality in the 
island: all the neighbouring savages listen to its voice with awe and 
fascination, pausing with inclined heads whenever it begins to speak from 
its turret. 

Ojeda talks to Caonabo about the bell, and tells him what a wonderful 
thing it is; tells him also that if he will come with him to Isabella he 
shall have the bell for a present. Poetry and public policy struggle 
together in Caonabo's heart, but poetry wins; the great powerful savage, 
urged thereto by his childish lion-heart, will come to Isabella if they 
will give him the bell. He sets forth, accompanied by a native retinue, 
and by Ojeda and his ten horsemen. Presently they come to a river and 
Ojeda produces his bright manacles; tells the King that they are royal 
ornaments and that he has been instructed to bestow them upon Caonabo as a 
sign of honour. But first he must come alone to the river and bathe, which 
he does. Then he must sit with Ojeda upon his horse; which he does. Then 
he must have fitted on to him the shining silver trinkets; which he does, 
the great grinning giant, pleased with his toys. Then, to show him what it 
is like to be on a horse, Ojeda canters gently round in widening and ever 
widening circles; a turn of his spurred heels, and the canter becomes a 
gallop, the circle becomes a straight line, and Caonabo is on the road to 
Isabella. When they are well beyond reach of the natives they pause and 
tie Caonabo securely into his place; and by this treachery bring him into 
Isabella, where he is imprisoned in the Admiral's house. 

The sulky giant, brought thus into captivity, refuses to bend his proud, 
stubborn heart into even a form of submission. He takes no notice of 
Columbus, and pays him no honour, although honour is paid to himself as a 
captive king. He sits there behind his bars gnawing his fingers, listening 
to the voice of the bell that has lured him into captivity, and thinking 
of the free open life which he is to know no more. Though he will pay no 
deference to the Admiral, will not even rise when he enters his presence, 
there is one person he holds in honour, and that is Ojeda. He will not 
rise when the Admiral comes; but when Ojeda comes, small as he is, and 
without external state, the chief makes his obeisance to him. The Admiral 
he sets at defiance, and boasts of his destruction of La Navidad, and of 
his plan to destroy Isabella; Ojeda he respects and holds in honour, as 
being the only man in the island brave enough to come into his house and 
carry him off a captive. There is a good deal of the sportsman in Caonabo. 

The immediate result of the capture of Caonabo was to rouse the islanders 
to further hostilities, and one of the brothers of the captive king led a 
force of seven thousand men to the vicinity of St. Thomas, to which Ojeda, 
however, had in the meantime returned. His small force was augmented by 
some men despatched by Bartholomew Columbus on receipt of an urgent 
message; and in command of this force Ojeda sallied forth against the 
natives and attacked them furiously on horse and on foot, killing a great 
part of them, taking others prisoner, and putting the rest to flight. This 
was the beginning of the end of the island resistance. A month or two 
later, when Columbus was better, he and Bartholomew together mustered the 
whole of their available army and marched out in search of the native 
force, which he knew had been rallied and greatly augmented. 

The two forces met near the present town of Santiago, in the plain known 
as the Savanna of Matanza. The Spanish force was divided into three main 
divisions, under the command of Christopher and Bartholomew Columbus and 
Ojeda respectively. These three divisions attacked the Indians 
simultaneously from different points, Ojeda throwing his cavalry upon 
them, riding them down, and cutting them to pieces. Drums were beaten and 
trumpets blown; the guns were fired from the cover of the trees; and a 
pack of bloodhounds, which had been sent out from Spain with Bartholomew, 
were let loose upon the natives and tore their bodies to pieces. It was an 
easy and horrible victory. The native force was estimated by Columbus at 
one hundred thousand men, although we shall probably be nearer the mark if 
we reduce that estimate by one half. 

The powers of hell were let loose that day into the Earthly Paradise. The 
guns mowed red lines of blood through the solid ranks of the natives; the 
great Spanish horses trod upon and crushed their writhing bodies, in which 
arrows and lances continually stuck and quivered; and the ferocious dogs, 
barking and growling, seized the naked Indians by the throat, dragged them 
to the ground, and tore out their very entrails . . . . Well for us that 
the horrible noises of that day are silent now; well for the world that 
that place of bloodshed and horror has grown green again; better for us 
and for the world if those cries had never been heard, and that quiet 
place had never received a stain that centuries of green succeeding 
springtides can never wash away. 

It was some time before this final battle that the convalescence of the 
Admiral was further assisted by the arrival of four ships commanded by 
Antonio Torres, who must have passed, out of sight and somewhere on the 
high seas, the ships bearing Buil and Margarite back to Spain. He brought 
with him a large supply of fresh provisions for the colony, and a number 
of genuine colonists, such as fishermen, carpenters, farmers, mechanics, 
and millers. And better still he brought a letter from the Sovereigns, 
dated the 16th of August 1494, which did much to cheer the shaken spirits 
of Columbus. The words with which he had freighted his empty ships had not 
been in vain; and in this reply to them he was warmly commended for his 
diligence, and reminded that he enjoyed the unshaken confidence of the 
Sovereigns. They proposed that a caravel should sail every month from 
Spain and from Isabella, bearing intelligence of the colony and also, it 
was hoped, some of its products. In a general letter addressed to the 
colony the settlers were reminded of the obedience they owed to the 
Admiral, and were instructed to obey him in all things under the penalty 
of heavy fines. They invited Columbus to come back if he could in order to 
be present at the convention which was to establish the line of 
demarcation between Spanish and Portuguese possessions; or if he could not 
come himself to send his brother Bartholomew. There were reasons, however, 
which made this difficult. Columbus wished to despatch the ships back 
again as speedily as possible, in order that news of him might help to 
counteract the evil rumours that he knew Buil and Margarite would be 
spreading. He himself was as yet (February 1494) too ill to travel; and 
during his illness Bartholomew could not easily be spared. It was 
therefore decided to send home James, who could most easily be spared, and 
whose testimony as a member of the governing body during the absence of 
the Admiral on his voyage to Cuba might be relied upon to counteract the 
jealous accusations of Margarite and Buil. 

Unfortunately there was no golden cargo to send back with him. As much 
gold as possible was scraped together, but it was very little. The usual 
assortment of samples of various island products was also sent; but still 
the vessels were practically empty. Columbus must have been painfully 
conscious that the time for sending samples had more than expired, and 
that the people in Spain might reasonably expect some of the actual riches 
of which there had been so many specimens and promises. In something 
approaching desperation, he decided to fill the empty holds of the ships 
with something which, if it was not actual money, could at least be made 
to realise money. From their sunny dreaming life on the island five 
hundred natives were taken and lodged in the dark holds of the caravels, 
to be sent to Spain and sold there for what they would fetch. Of course 
they were to be "freed" and converted to Christianity in the process; that 
was always part of the programme, but it did not interfere with business. 
They were not man-eating Caribs or fierce marauding savages from 
neighbouring islands, but were of the mild and peaceable race that peopled 
Espanola. The wheels of civilisation were beginning to turn in the New 
World. 

After the capture of Caonabo and the massacre of April 25th Columbus 
marched through the island, receiving the surrender and submission of the 
terrified natives. At the approach of his force the caciques came out and 
sued for peace; and if here and there there was a momentary resistance, a 
charge of cavalry soon put an end to it. One by one the kings surrendered 
and laid down their arms, until all the island rulers had capitulated with 
the exception of Behechio, into whose territory Columbus did not march, 
and who sullenly retired to the south-western corner of the island. The 
terms of peace were harsh enough, and were suggested by the dilemma of 
Columbus in his frantic desire to get together some gold at any cost. A 
tribute of gold-dust was laid upon every adult native in the island. Every 
three months a hawk's bell full of gold was to be brought to the treasury 
at Isabella, and in the case 39 of caciques the measure was a calabash. A 
receipt in the form of a brass medal was fastened to the neck of every 
Indian when he paid his tribute, and those who could not show the medal 
with the necessary number of marks were to be further fined and punished. 
In the districts where there was no gold, 25 lbs. of cotton was accepted 
instead. 

This levy was made in ignorance of the real conditions under which the 
natives possessed themselves of the gold. What they had in many cases 
represented the store of years, and in all but one or two favoured 
districts it was quite impossible for them to keep up the amount of the 
tribute. Yet the hawks' bells, which once had been so eagerly coveted and 
were now becoming hated symbols of oppression, had to be filled somehow; 
and as the day of payment drew near the wretched natives, who had formerly 
only sought for gold when a little of it was wanted for a pretty ornament, 
had now to work with frantic energy in the river sands; or in other cases, 
to toil through the heat of the day in the cotton fields which they had 
formerly only cultivated enough to furnish their very scant requirements 
of use and adornment. One or two caciques, knowing that their people could 
not possibly furnish the required amount of gold, begged that its value in 
grain might be accepted instead; but that was not the kind of wealth that 
Columbus was seeking. It must be gold or nothing; and rather than receive 
any other article from the gold- bearing districts, he consented to take 
half the amount. 

Thus step by step, and under the banner of the Holy Catholic religion, did 
dark and cruel misery march through the groves and glades of the island 
and banish for ever its ancient peace. This long-vanished race that was 
native to the island of Espanola seems to have had some of the happiest 
and most lovable qualities known to dwellers on this planet. They had none 
of the brutalities of the African, the paralysing wisdom of the Asian, nor 
the tragic potentialities of the European peoples. Their life was from day 
to day, and from season to season, like the life of flowers and birds. 
They lived in such order and peaceable community as the common sense of 
their own simple needs suggested; they craved no pleasures except those 
that came free from nature, and sought no wealth but what the sun gave 
them. In their verdant island, near to the heart and source of light, 
surrounded by the murmur of the sea, and so enriched by nature that the 
idea, of any other kind of riches never occurred to them, their existence 
went to a happy dancing measure like that of the fauns and nymphs in whose 
charmed existence they believed. The sun and moon were to them creatures 
of their island who had escaped from a cavern by the shore and now 
wandered free in the upper air, peopling it with happy stars; and man 
himself they believed to have sprung from crevices in the rocks, like the 
plants that grew tall and beautiful wherever there was a handful of soil 
for their roots. Poor happy children! You are all dead a long while ago 
now, and have long been hushed in the great humming sleep and silence of 
Time; the modern world has no time nor room for people like you, with so 
much kindness and so little ambition . . . . Yet their free pagan souls 
were given a chance to be penned within the Christian fold; the priest 
accompanied the gunner and the bloodhound, the missionary walked beside 
the slave-driver; and upon the bewildered sun- bright surface of their 
minds the shadow of the cross was for a moment thrown. Verily to them the 
professors of Christ brought not peace, but a sword.



CHAPTER III.
UPS AND DOWNS 

While Columbus was toiling under the tropical sun to make good his 
promises to the Crown, Margarite and Buil, having safely come home to 
Spain from across the seas, were busy setting forth their view of the 
value of his discoveries. It was a view entirely different from any that 
Ferdinand and Isabella had heard before, and coming as it did from two men 
of position and importance who had actually been in Espanola, and were 
loyal and religious subjects of the Crown, it could not fail to receive, 
if not immediate and complete credence, at any rate grave attention. 
Hitherto the Sovereigns had only heard one side of the matter; an 
occasional jealous voice may have been raised from the neighbourhood of 
the Pinzons or some one else not entirely satisfied with his own position 
in the affair; but such small cries of dissent had naturally had little 
chance against the dignified eloquence of the Admiral. 

Now, however, the matter was different. People who were at least the 
equals of Columbus in intelligence, and his superiors by birth and 
education, had seen with their own eyes the things of which he had spoken, 
and their account differed widely from his. They represented things in 
Espanola as being in a very bad way indeed, which was true enough; drew a 
dismal picture of an overcrowded colony ravaged with disease and suffering 
from lack of provisions; and held forth at length upon the very doubtful 
quality of the gold with which the New World was supposed to abound. More 
than this, they brought grave charges against Columbus himself, 
representing him as unfit to govern a colony, given to favouritism, and, 
worst of all, guilty of having deliberately misrepresented for his own 
ends the resources of the colony. This as we know was not true. It was not 
for his own ends, or for any ends at all within the comprehension of men 
like Margarite and Buil, that poor Christopher had spoken so glowingly out 
of a heart full of faith in what he had seen and done. Purposes, dim 
perhaps, but far greater and loftier than any of which these two mean 
souls had understanding, animated him alike in his discoveries and in his 
account of them; although that does not alter the unpleasant fact that at 
the stage matters had now reached it seemed as though there might have 
been serious misrepresentation. 

Ferdinand and Isabella, thus confronted with a rather difficult situation, 
acted with great wisdom and good sense. How much or how little they 
believed we do not know, but it was obviously their duty, having heard 
such an account from responsible officers, to investigate matters for 
themselves without assuming either that the report was true or untrue. 
They immediately had four caravels furnished with supplies, and decided to 
appoint an agent to accompany the expedition, investigate the affairs of 
the colony, and make a report to them. If the Admiral was still absent 
when their agent reached the colony he was to be entrusted with the 
distribution of the supplies which were being sent out; for Columbus's 
long absence from Espanola had given rise to some fears for his safety. 

The Sovereigns had just come to this decision (April 1495) when a letter 
arrived from the Admiral himself, announcing his return to Espanola after 
discovering the veritable mainland of Asia, as the notarial document 
enclosed with the letter attested. Torres and James Columbus had arrived 
in Spain, bearing the memorandum which some time ago we saw the Admiral 
writing; and they were able to do something towards allaying the fears of 
the Sovereigns as to the condition of the colony. The King and Queen, 
nevertheless, wisely decided to carry out their original intention, and in 
appointing an agent they very handsomely chose one of the men whom 
Columbus had recommended to them in his letter--Juan Aguado. This action 
shows a friendliness to Columbus and confidence in him that lead one to 
suspect that the tales of Margarite and Buil had been taken with a grain 
of salt. 

At the same time the Sovereigns made one or two orders which could not but 
be unwelcome to Columbus. A decree was issued making it lawful for all 
native-born Spaniards to make voyages of discovery, and to settle in 
Espanola itself if they liked. This was an infringement of the original 
privileges granted to the Admiral--privileges which were really absurd, 
and which can only have been granted in complete disbelief that anything 
much would come of his discovery. It took Columbus two years to get this 
order modified, and in the meantime a great many Spanish adventurers, our 
old friends the Pinzons among them, did actually make voyages and added to 
the area explored by the Spaniards in Columbus's lifetime. Columbus was 
bitterly jealous that any one should be admitted to the western ocean, 
which he regarded as his special preserve, except under his supreme 
authority; and he is reported to have said that once the way to the West 
had been pointed out "even the very tailors turned explorers." There, 
surely, spoke the long dormant woolweaver in him. 

The commission given to Aguado was very brief, and so vaguely worded that 
it might mean much or little, according to the discretion of the 
commissioner and the necessities of the case as viewed by him. "We send to 
you Juan Aguada, our Groom of the Chambers, who will speak to you on our 
part. We command you to give him faith and credit." A letter was also sent 
to Columbus in which he was instructed to reduce the number of people 
dependent on the colony to five hundred instead of a thousand; and the 
control of the mines was entrusted to one Pablo Belvis, who was sent out 
as chief metallurgist. As for the slaves that Columbus had sent home, 
Isabella forbade their sale until inquiry could be made into the condition 
of their capture, and the fine moral point involved was entrusted to the 
ecclesiastical authorities for examination and solution. Poor Christopher, 
knowing as he did that five hundred heretics were being burned every year 
by the Grand Inquisitor, had not expected this hair- splitting over the 
fate of heathens who had rebelled against Spanish authority; and it caused 
him some distress when he heard of it. The theologians, however, proved 
equal to the occasion, and the slaves were duly sold in Seville market. 

Aguado sailed from Cadiz at the end of August 1495, and reached Espanola 
in October. James Columbus (who does not as yet seem to be in very great 
demand anywhere, and who doubtless conceals behind his grave visage much 
honest amazement at the amount of life that he is seeing) returned with 
him. Aguado, on arriving at Isabella, found that Columbus was absent 
establishing forts in the interior of the island, Bartholomew being left 
in charge at Isabella. 

Aguado, who had apparently been found faithful in small matters, was found 
wanting in his use of the authority that had been entrusted to him. It 
seems to have turned his head; for instead of beginning quietly to 
investigate the affairs of the colony as he had been commanded to do he 
took over from Bartholomew the actual government, and interpreted his 
commission as giving him the right to supersede the Admiral himself. The 
unhappy colony, which had no doubt been enjoying some brief period of 
peace under the wise direction of Bartholomew, was again thrown into 
confusion by the doings of Aguado. He arrested this person, imprisoned 
that; ordered that things should be done this way, which had formerly been 
done that way; and if they had formerly been done that way, then he 
ordered that they should be done this way--in short he committed every 
mistake possible for a man in his situation armed with a little brief 
authority. He did not hesitate to let it be known that he was there to 
examine the conduct of the Admiral himself; and we may be quite sure that 
every one in the colony who had a grievance or an ill tale to carry, 
carried it to Aguado. His whole attitude was one of enmity and disloyalty 
to the Admiral who had so handsomely recommended him to the notice of the 
Sovereigns; and so undisguised was his attitude that even the Indians 
began to lodge their complaints and to see a chance by which they might 
escape from the intolerable burden of the gold tribute. 

It was at this point that Columbus returned and found Aguado ruling in the 
place of Bartholomew, who had wisely made no protest against his own 
deposition, but was quietly waiting for the Admiral to return. Columbus 
might surely have been forgiven if he had betrayed extreme anger and 
annoyance at the doings of Aguado; and it is entirely to his credit that 
he concealed such natural wrath as he may have felt, and greeted Aguado 
with extreme courtesy and ceremony as a representative of the Sovereigns. 
He made no protest, but decided to return himself to Spain and confront 
the jealousy and ill-fame that were accumulating against him. 

Just as the ships were all ready to sail, one of the hurricanes which 
occur periodically in the West Indies burst upon the island, lashing the 
sea into a wall of advancing foam that destroyed everything before it. 
Among other things it destroyed three out of the four ships, dashing them 
on the beach and reducing them to complete wreckage. The only one that 
held to her anchor and, although much battered and damaged, rode out the 
gale, was the Nina, that staunch little friend that had remained faithful 
to the Admiral through so many dangers and trials. There was nothing for 
it but to build a new ship out of the fragments of the wrecks, and to make 
the journey home with two ships instead of with four. 

At this moment, while he was waiting for the ship to be completed, 
Columbus heard a piece of news of a kind that never failed to rouse his 
interest. There was a young Spaniard named Miguel Diaz who had got into 
disgrace in Isabella some time before on account of a duel, and had 
wandered into the island until he had come out on the south coast at the 
mouth of the river Ozama, near the site of the present town of Santo 
Domingo. There he had fallen in love with a female cacique and had made 
his home with her. She, knowing the Spanish taste, and anxious to please 
her lover and to retain him in her territory, told him of some rich gold- 
mines that there were in the neighbourhood, and suggested that he should 
inform the Admiral, who would perhaps remove the settlement from Isabella 
to the south coast. She provided him with guides and sent him off to 
Isabella, where, hearing that his antagonist had recovered, and that he 
himself was therefore in no danger of punishment, he presented himself 
with his story. 

Columbus immediately despatched Bartholomew with a party to examine the 
mines; and sure enough they found in the river Hayna undoubted evidence of 
a wealth far in excess of that contained in the Cibao gold-mines. 
Moreover, they had noticed two ancient excavations about which the natives 
could tell them nothing, but which made them think that the mines had once 
been worked. 

Columbus was never backward in fitting a story and a theory to whatever 
phenomena surrounded him; and in this case he was certain that the 
excavations were the work of Solomon, and that he had discovered the gold 
of Ophir. "Sure enough," thinks the Admiral, "I have hit it this time; and 
the ships came eastward from the Persian Gulf round the Golden 
Chersonesus, which I discovered this very last winter." Immediately, as 
his habit was, Columbus began to build castles in Spain. Here was a fine 
answer to Buil and Margarite! Without waiting a week or two to get any of 
the gold this extraordinary man decided to hurry off at once to Spain with 
the news, not dreaming that Spain might, by this time, have had a surfeit 
of news, and might be in serious need of some simple, honest facts. But he 
thought his two caravels sufficiently freighted with this new belief--the 
belief that he had discovered the Ophir of Solomon. 

The Admiral sailed on March 10th, 1496, carrying with him in chains the 
vanquished Caonabo and other natives. He touched at Marigalante and at 
Guadaloupe, where his people had an engagement with the natives, taking 
several prisoners, but releasing them all again with the exception of one 
woman, a handsome creature who had fallen in love with Caonabo and refused 
to go. But for Caonabo the joys of life and love were at an end; his heart 
and spirit were broken. He was not destined to be paraded as a captive 
through the streets of Spain, and it was somewhere in the deep Atlantic 
that he paid the last tribute to the power that had captured and broken 
him. He died on the voyage, which was longer and much more full of 
hardships than usual. For some reason or other Columbus did not take the 
northerly route going home, but sailed east from Gaudaloupe, encountering 
the easterly trade winds, which delayed him so much that the voyage 
occupied three months instead of six weeks. 

Once more he exhibited his easy mastery of the art of navigation and his 
extraordinary gift for estimating dead-reckoning. After having been out of 
sight of land for eight weeks, and while some of the sailors thought they 
might be in the Bay of Biscay, and others that they were in the English 
Channel, the Admiral suddenly announced that they were close to Cape Saint 
Vincent. 

No land was in sight, but he ordered that sail should be shortened that 
evening; and sure enough the next morning they sighted the land close by 
Cape Saint Vincent. Columbus managed his landfalls with a fine dramatic 
sense as though they were conjuring tricks; and indeed they must have 
seemed like conjuring tricks, except that they were almost always 
successful.



CHAPTER IV.
IN SPAIN AGAIN 

The loiterers about the harbour of Cadiz saw a curious sight on June 11th, 
1496, when the two battered ships, bearing back the voyagers from the 
Eldorado of the West, disembarked their passengers. There were some 220 
souls on board, including thirty Indians: and instead of leaping ashore, 
flushed with health, and bringing the fortunes which they had gone out to 
seek, they crawled miserably from the boats or were carried ashore, 
emaciated by starvation, yellow with disease, ragged and unkempt from 
poverty, and with practically no possessions other than the clothes they 
stood up in. Even the Admiral, now in his forty-sixth year, hardly had the 
appearance that one would expect in a Viceroy of the Indies. His white 
hair and beard were rough and matted, his handsome face furrowed by care 
and sunken by illness and exhaustion, and instead of the glittering armour 
and uniform of his office he wore the plain robe and girdle of the 
Franciscan order--this last probably in consequence of some vow or other 
he had made in an hour of peril on the voyage. 

One lucky coincidence marked his arrival. In the harbour, preparing to 
weigh anchor, was a fleet of three little caravels, commanded by Pedro 
Nino, about to set out for Espanola with supplies and despatches. Columbus 
hurried on board Nino's ship, and there read the letters from the 
Sovereigns which it had been designed he should receive in Espanola. The 
letters are not preserved, but one can make a fair guess at their 
contents. Some searching questions would certainly be asked, kind 
assurances of continued confidence would doubtless be given, with many 
suggestions for the betterment of affairs in the distant colony. Only 
their result upon the Admiral is known to us. He sat down there and then 
and wrote to Bartholomew, urging him to secure peace in the island by 
every means in his power, to send home any caciques or natives who were 
likely to give trouble, and most of all to push on with the building of a 
settlement on the south coast where the new mines were, and to have a 
cargo of gold ready to send back with the next expedition. Having written 
this letter, the Admiral saw the little fleet sail away on June 17th, and 
himself prepared with mingled feelings to present himself before his 
Sovereigns. 

While he was waiting for their summons at Los Palacios, a small town near 
Seville, he was the guest of the curate of that place, Andrez Bernaldez, 
who had been chaplain to Christopher's old friend DEA, the Archbishop of 
Seville. This good priest evidently proved a staunch friend to Columbus at 
this anxious period of his life, for the Admiral left many important 
papers in his charge when he again left Spain, and no small part of the 
scant contemporary information about Columbus that has come down to us is 
contained in the 'Historia de los Reyes Catolicos', which Bernaldez wrote 
after the death of Columbus. 

Fickle Spain had already forgotten its first sentimental enthusiasm over 
the Admiral's discoveries, and now was only interested in their financial 
results. People cannot be continually excited about a thing which they 
have not seen, and there were events much nearer home that absorbed the 
public interest. There was the trouble with France, the contemplated 
alliance of the Crown Prince with Margaret of Austria, and of the Spanish 
Princess Juana with Philip of Austria; and there were the designs of 
Ferdinand upon the kingdom of Naples, which was in his eyes a much more 
desirable and valuable prize than any group of unknown islands beyond the 
ocean. 

Columbus did his very best to work up enthusiasm again. He repeated the 
performance that had been such a success after his first voyage--the kind 
of circus procession in which the natives were marched in column 
surrounded by specimens of the wealth of the Indies. But somehow it did 
not work so well this time. Where there had formerly been acclamations and 
crowds pressing forward to view the savages and their ornaments, there 
were now apathy and a dearth of spectators. And although Columbus did his 
very best, and was careful to exhibit every scrap of gold that he had 
brought, and to hang golden collars and ornaments about the necks of the 
marching Indians, his exhibition was received either in ominous silence 
or, in some quarters, with something like derision. As I have said before, 
there comes a time when the best-disposed debtors do not regard themselves 
as being repaid by promises, and when the most enthusiastic optimist 
desires to see something more than samples. It was only old Colon going 
round with his show again--flamingoes, macaws, seashells, dye-woods, gums 
and spices; some people laughed, and some were angry; but all were united 
in thinking that the New World was not a very profitable speculation. 

Things were a little better, however, at Court. Isabella certainly 
believed still in Columbus; Ferdinand, although he had never been 
enthusiastic, knew the Admiral too well to make the vulgar mistake of 
believing him an impostor; and both were too polite and considerate to add 
to his obvious mortification and distress by any discouraging comments. 
Moreover, the man himself had lost neither his belief in the value of his 
discoveries nor his eloquence in talking of them; and when he told his 
story to the Sovereigns they could not help being impressed, not only with 
his sincerity but with his ability and single-heartedness also. It was 
almost the same old story, of illimitable wealth that was just about to be 
acquired, and perhaps no one but Columbus could have made it go down once 
more with success; but talking about his exploits was never any trouble to 
him, and his astonishing conviction, the lofty and dignified manner in 
which he described both good and bad fortune, and the impressive way in 
which he spoke of the wealth of the gold of Ophir and of the far-reaching 
importance of his supposed discovery of the Golden Chersonesus and the 
mainland of Asia, had their due effect on his hearers. 

It was always his way, plausible Christopher, to pass lightly over the 
premises and to dwell with elaborate detail on the deductions. It was by 
no means proved that he had discovered the mines of King Solomon; he had 
never even seen the place which he identified with them; it was in fact 
nothing more than an idea in his own head; but we may be sure that he took 
it as an established fact that he had actually discovered the mines of 
Ophir, and confined his discussion to estimates of the wealth which they 
were likely to yield, and of what was to be done with the wealth when the 
mere details of conveying it from the mines to the ships had been disposed 
of. So also with the Golden Chersonesus. The very name was enough to stop 
the mouths of doubters; and here was the man himself who had actually been 
there, and here was a sworn affidavit from every member of his crew to say 
that they had been there too. This kind of logic is irresistible if you 
only grant the first little step; and Columbus had the art of making it 
seem an act of imbecility in any of his hearers to doubt the strength of 
the little link by which his great golden chains of argument were fastened 
to fact and truth. 

For Columbus everything depended upon his reception by the Sovereigns at 
this time. Unless he could re-establish his hold upon them and move to a 
still more secure position in their confidence he was a ruined man and his 
career was finished; and one cannot but sympathise with him as he sits 
there searching his mind for tempting and convincing arguments, and 
speaking so calmly and gravely and confidently in spite of all the doubts 
and flutterings in his heart. Like a tradesman setting out his wares, he 
brought forth every inducement he could think of to convince the 
Sovereigns that the only way to make a success of what they had already 
done was to do more; that the only way to make profitable the money that 
had already been spent was to spend more; that the only way to prove the 
wisdom of their trust in him was to trust him more. One of his 
transcendent merits in a situation of this kind was that he always had 
something new and interesting to propose. He did not spread out his hands 
and say, "This is what I have done: it is the best I can do; how are you 
going to treat me?" He said in effect, "This is what I have done; you will 
see that it will all come right in time; do not worry about it; but 
meanwhile I have something else to propose which I think your Majesties 
will consider a good plan." 

His new demand was for a fleet of six ships, two of which were to convey 
supplies to Espanola, and the other four to be entrusted to him for the 
purpose of a voyage of discovery towards the mainland to the south of 
Espanola, of which he had heard consistent rumours; which was said to be 
rich in gold, and (a clever touch) to which the King of Portugal was 
thinking of sending a fleet, as he thought that it might lie within the 
limits of his domain of heathendom. And so well did he manage, and so 
deeply did he impress the Sovereigns with his assurance that this time the 
thing amounted to what is vulgarly called "a dead certainty," that they 
promised him he should have his ships. 

But promise and performance, as no one knew better than Columbus, are 
different things; and it was a long while before he got his ships. There 
was the usual scarcity of money, and the extensive military and diplomatic 
operations in which the Crown was then engaged absorbed every maravedi 
that Ferdinand could lay his hands on. There was an army to be maintained 
under the Pyrenees to keep watch over France; fleets had to be kept 
patrolling both the Mediterranean and Atlantic seaboards; and there was a 
whole armada required to convey the princesses of Spain and Austria to 
their respective husbands in connection with the double matrimonial 
alliance arranged between the two countries. And when at last, in October 
1496, six million maravedis were provided wherewith Columbus might equip 
his fleet, they were withdrawn again under very mortifying circumstances. 
The appropriation had just been made when a letter arrived from Pedro 
Nino, who had been to Espanola and come back again, and now wrote from 
Cadiz to the Sovereigns, saying that his ships were full of gold. He did 
not present himself at Court, but went to visit his family at Huelva; but 
the good news of his letter was accepted as an excuse for this oversight. 

No one was better pleased than the Admiral. "What did I tell you?" he 
says; "you see the mines of Hayna are paying already." King Ferdinand, 
equally pleased, and having an urgent need of money in connection with his 
operations against France, took the opportunity to cancel the 
appropriation of the six million maravedis, giving Columbus instead an 
order for the amount to be paid out of the treasure brought home by Nino. 
Alas, the mariner's boast of gold had been a figure of speech. There was 
no gold; there was only a cargo of slaves, which Nino deemed the 
equivalent of gold; and when Bartholomew's despatches came to be read he 
described the affairs of Espanola as being in very much the same condition 
as before. This incident produced a most unfortunate impression. Even 
Columbus was obliged to keep quiet for a little while; and it is likely 
that the mention of six million maravedis was not welcomed by him for some 
time afterwards. 

After the wedding of Prince Juan in March 1497, when Queen Isabella had 
more time to give to external affairs, the promise to Columbus was again 
remembered, and his position was considered in detail. An order was made 
(April 23rd, 1497), restoring to the Admiral the original privileges 
bestowed upon him at Santa Fe. He was offered a large tract of land in 
Espanola, with the title of Duke; but much as he hankered after titular 
honours, he was for once prudent enough to refuse this gift. His reason 
was that it would only further damage his influence, and give apparent 
justification to those enemies who said that the whole enterprise had been 
undertaken merely in his own interests; and it is possible also that his 
many painful associations with Espanola, and the bloodshed and horrors 
that he had witnessed there, had aroused in his superstitious mind a 
distaste for possessions and titles in that devastated Paradise. Instead, 
he accepted a measure of relief from the obligations incurred by his 
eighth share in the many unprofitable expeditions that had been sent out 
during the last three years, agreeing for the next three years to receive 
an eighth share of the gross income, and a tenth of the net profits, 
without contributing anything to the cost. His appointment of Bartholomew 
to the office of Adelantado, which had annoyed Ferdinand, was now 
confirmed; the universal license which had been granted to Spanish 
subjects to settle in the new lands was revoked in so far as it infringed 
the Admiral's privileges; and he was granted a force of 330 officers, 
soldiers, and artificers to be at his personal disposal in the prosecution 
of his next voyage. 

The death of Prince Juan in October 1497 once more distracted the 
attention of the Court from all but personal matters; and Columbus 
employed the time of waiting in drafting a testamentary document in which 
he was permitted to create an entail on his title and estates in favour of 
his two sons and their heirs for ever. This did not represent his complete 
or final testament, for he added codicils at various times, the latest 
being executed the day before his death. The document is worth studying; 
it reveals something of the laborious, painstaking mind reaching out down 
the rivers and streams of the future that were to flow from the fountain 
of his own greatness; it reveals also his triple conception of the 
obligations of human life in this world--the cultivation and retention of 
temporal dignity, the performance of pious and charitable acts, and the 
recognition of duty to one's family. It was in this document that Columbus 
formulated the curious cipher which he always now used in signing his 
name, and of which various readings are given in the Appendix. He also 
enjoined upon his heir the duty of using the simple title which he himself 
loved and used most--"The Admiral." 

After the death of Prince Juan, Queen Isabella honoured Columbus by 
attaching his two sons to her own person as pages; and her friendship must 
at this time have gone far to compensate him for the coolness shown 
towards him by the public at large. He might talk as much as he pleased, 
but he had nothing to show for all his talk except a few trinkets, a 
collection of interesting but valueless botanical specimens, and a handful 
of miserable slaves. Lives and fortunes had been wrecked on the 
enterprise, which had so far brought nothing to Spain but the promise of 
luxurious adventure that was not fulfilled and of a wealth and glory that 
had not been realised. It must have been a very humiliating circumstance 
to Columbus that in the preparations which he was now (February 1498) 
making for the equipment of his new expedition a great difficulty was 
found in procuring ships and men. Not even before the first voyage had so 
much reluctance been shown to risk life and property in the enterprise. 
Merchants and sailors had then been frightened of dangers which they did 
not know; now, it seemed, the evils of which they did know proved a still 
greater deterrent. The Admiral was at this time the guest of his friend 
Bernaldez, who has told us something of his difficulties; and the 
humiliating expedient of seizing ships under a royal order had finally to 
be adopted. But it would never have done to impress the colonists also; 
that would have been too open a confession of failure for the proud 
Admiral to tolerate. 

Instead he had recourse to the miserable plan of which he had made use in 
Palos; the prisons were opened, and criminals under sentence invited to 
come forth and enjoy the blessings of colonial life. Even then there was 
not that rush from the prison doors that might have been expected, and 
some desperate characters apparently preferred the mercies of a Spanish 
prison to what they had heard of the joys of the Earthly Paradise. Still a 
number of criminals did doubtfully crawl forth and furnish a retinue for 
the great Admiral and Viceroy. Trembling, suspicious, and with more than 
half a mind to go back to their bonds, some part of the human vermin of 
Spain was eventually cajoled and chivied on board the ships. 

The needs of the colony being urgent, and recruiting being slow, two 
caravels laden with provisions were sent off in advance; but even for this 
purpose there was a difficulty about money, and good Isabella furnished 
the expense, at much inconvenience, from her private purse. 

Columbus had to supervise everything himself; and no wonder that by the 
end of May, when he was ready to sail, his patience and temper were 
exhausted and his much-tried endurance broke down under the petty gnatlike 
irritations of Fonseca and his myrmidons. It was on the deck of his own 
ship, in the harbour of San Lucar, that he knocked down and soundly kicked 
Ximeno de Breviesca, Fonseca's accountant, whose nagging requisitions had 
driven the Admiral to fury. 

After all these years of gravity and restraint and endurance, this 
momentary outbreak of the old Adam in our hero is like a breath of wind 
through an open window. 

To the portraits of Columbus hanging in the gallery of one's imagination 
this must surely be added; in which Christopher, on the deck of his ship, 
with the royal standard and the Admiral's flag flying from his masthead, 
is observed to be soundly kicking a prostrate accountant. The incident is 
worthy of a date, which is accordingly here given, as near as may be--May 
29, 1498.