Redheaded Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca—Cabeza de Vaca translates as Cow’s
Head—was a man of considerable pride and, apparently, some wry humor. In
1483, about three years after his birth, its exact date unknown, his
paternal grandfather, Pedro de Vera, conquered the Grand Canary Island
off the northwest coast of Africa for Spain, a feat that brought a glow,
in court circles, to the name de Vera. And then there was his mother’s
name, Teresa Cabeza de Vaca. Legend avers that back in 1212 her
ancestor, a shepherd, had used the skull of a cow to mark a mountain
pass that let a Christian army surprise and defeat its Mohammedan enemy.
The shepherd’s sovereign thereupon bestowed the name Cabeza de Vaca on
the family. Young Alvar Nuñez must have enjoyed the story, for he
adopted his mother’s surname rather than his father’s, a not unusual
custom in Spain.
He fought in several battles for Ferdinand and Isabella and for their
grandson, Charles V, and was severely wounded at least once. In 1526,
when he was about 46, Charles appointed him royal treasurer of a large
expedition Pánfilo de Narváez proposed to lead into Florida, a name that
then covered a huge region stretching from the peninsula around the
dimly known north Gulf Coast to the Rio de las Palmas in northeastern
Mexico.[1] If treasure was found—and treasure was Narváez’s goal—it
would be up to Cabeza de Vaca to make sure the king received his 20
percent share. Other financial duties were involved, so that altogether
it seemed a promising appointment for a middle-aged ex-soldier and able
administrator. As events turned out, Vaca could hardly have suffered a
greater misfortune.
The problem, which merits a digression, was Pánfilo de Narváez, the
expedition’s leader. About the same age as Cabeza de Vaca, he was tall,
courtly, and deep voiced, qualities that helped marvelously in advancing
his career. He had prospered as a pioneer settler in Jamaica, and
between 1511 and 1515 had aided Diego Velásquez in the conquest of Cuba,
a feat which had elevated Velásquez to the governorship of the island.
Both men added to their riches by using enforced Indian labor to exploit
the island’s shallow placer mines and embryonic plantations. And
although both could easily have retired to comfortable estates, each
wanted more money, a common itch.
[Illustration: Charles, King of Spain, 1516-56, and Emperor of the
Holy Roman Empire, 1519-58. Under his rule, Spain carved out a new
empire in the Americas to go with its dominions in Europe.]
As chief administrator of Cuba, Velásquez was allowed by the government
in Spain to authorize explorations of the Caribbean. In 1517 and 1518 he
exercised this right by licensing seafarers to explore and trade along
the coasts of Yucatan and Mexico, capture Indian slaves, and scout out
the country for booty. In return for the licenses, Velásquez would share
in whatever gains resulted.
Of his searchers for new wealth, the one whose name would ring down
through history was Hernán Cortés. Cocky, crafty, reckless, and adept
with the ladies, Cortés had come to Cuba as Velásquez’s private
secretary at the same time Narváez had. He, too, had prospered, but
unlike Narváez he had quarreled sharply with his former boss. Though a
reconciliation had been effected, it was touchy. Still, Cortés had money
and was willing to spend it on risky adventures, and so, in 1518, he was
authorized to explore Mexico’s eastern coast. He assembled a fleet of 11
ships, 16 precious horses, and prodigious stores of armaments. People
grew so excited about his prospects that he easily recruited 500 or so
soldiers and 100 sailors—nearly half of Cuba’s male population.
While he was preparing his expedition, some of Velásquez’s other scouts
returned with rumors of a fabulous empire of Aztec Indians and their
capital city, Tenochtitlán, built on an island in a shallow lake that
filled most of a high mountain valley in Mexico. Growing suddenly
nervous about Cortés—how loyal would he be with treasure in front of him
and an army at his back?—Velásquez in February 1519 revoked Cortés’s
commission. Defying him, Cortés slipped away and disappeared.
One of the world’s most fabulous adventures followed. Landing on the
Yucatan coast, Cortés rescued a survivor of one of Velásquez’s earlier
expeditions—a man who in his captivity had learned the Mayan language.
Employing the one-time prisoner as an interpreter, Cortés turned his
fleet northward, probing the coast. Such resistance as developed among
the Indians was quickly crushed by the terrifying aspect of the
expedition’s few horses. During one of those aborted battles, Cortés
rescued yet another captive, a woman named Malinche whom the priest with
the expedition baptized and named Marina.
[Illustration: Hernán Cortés with 600 men and 16 horses overthrew
the Aztec empire. This illustration of the conquistador was made
from life.]
[Illustration: The map traces his route from the coast to
Tenochtitlán in 1519.]
Marina was a Nahua, or Aztec. While in captivity she too had learned the
Mayan tongue and could converse with the rescued Spaniard. Through this
linguistic conduit, the _conquistadores_ received exciting information
about Tenochtitlán, the glittering city of the Aztecs, predecessor of
today’s Mexico City. A dazzling prize! And why, Cortés surely wondered,
should he share any of it with Diego Velásquez, sitting safely at home
in Cuba?
On April 21, 1519, the fleet dropped anchor at the sea end of a trail
leading to the city. There Cortés laid the foundations of a port that he
named Vera Cruz (today Veracruz). Calling his men together—they, too,
were excited about prospects—he prevailed on the majority to elect him
captain-general of the expedition, a move that in Cortés’s mind freed
him of his obligations to Velásquez and made him answerable only to King
Charles V. Simultaneously, he sent emissaries to Moctezuma, emperor of
the Aztecs, asking for an audience.
The timing could hardly have been more propitious. The Aztec rule was
harsh; subject nations seethed with discontent; Tenochtitlán itself was
torn with dissensions. Fearful that the strangers might be able to
capitalize on the undercurrents of the rebellion—and fearful, too, that
the newcomers might somehow be descendants of the ancient serpent-god,
Quetzalcoatl—Moctezuma tried to buy off the Spaniards. Down to Veracruz
went five noble diplomats accompanied by 100 porters laden with
treasure. All of it was breathtaking, but what really dumbfounded the
Spaniards were two metal disks the size of cartwheels. One, representing
the Sun God, was of solid gold. The other, dedicated to the Moon, was of
silver.
Cortés declined to respond as expected. He loaded the treasure onto one
of his ships and ordered the captain to sail directly to Spain, where he
would use the booty to win the approval of Charles V. The rest of the
ships he burned so that none of the men in the command who were still
loyal to Velásquez could return to Cuba and stir up trouble there. As
for his own men, they too would fight harder if they knew that no ships
were waiting to evacuate them if they were defeated.
[Illustration: Xipe Totec, Aztec god of fertility, one of many gods
in the Aztec pantheon, redrawn from the original codex. He wears the
flayed skin of a sacrificial victim. Ritual killing horrified
Spaniards and in their eyes justified the conquest. But to Aztecs
the gods and their extravagant costumes were an important part of
everyday life, condensations of vital social truths.]
In November 1519, Tenochtitlán capitulated after a short, hard fight.
Cortés took Moctezuma hostage and then paused to contemplate his
enormous prize.
Unknown to the victors, the captain of the ship bound for Spain did
pause in Cuba to check on some land he owned there. It was a short stay
but long enough for the sailors to talk. Astounded couriers sped the
word to Velásquez. The governor was outraged. He was already at work
gathering a strong force of 900 men equipped with 80 horses and 13 ships
to pursue Cortés and arrest him for defying orders. Doubly furious at
what seemed to him Cortés’s latest treachery, he put Pánfilo de Narváez
in charge of a punitive force to bring the disloyal _conquistador_ back
to Cuba in chains!
Warnings from Veracruz reached Cortés at the Aztec capital. He reacted
with characteristic boldness. Leaving two hundred men at Tenochtitlán,
he marched the rest swiftly to the coast. No one there anticipated him
so soon. Late at night, when most of his would-be captors were asleep,
he waded his men across a swollen stream and attacked without warning.
During the chaos that followed, a lance point put out one of Narváez’s
eyes. By dawn the field was in Cortés’s hands. Most of Narváez’s men,
hearing of the riches of Tenochtitlán, deserted their commander and
swore fealty to the victor.
While Narváez remained under guard at Veracruz, nursing his wound,
Cortés marched back to rejoin the rest of his men at Tenochtitlán. The
Aztecs let the returning soldiers reach the palace compound and then
attacked in waves of thousands. The hostage emperor, Moctezuma, was
stoned to death by his own people while pleading for peace. Trying once
again to use the night as cover, Cortés on June 30, 1520, led hundreds
of Spaniards and several thousand Indian allies onto one of the
stone-and-earth causeways that connected the island city to the
mainland. Aztecs swarmed after them in canoes. On that famed _noche
triste_—night of sorrows—850 Spaniards and upwards of 4,000 of their
allies died.
Fortune shifted quickly, however. Wheeling around on the plains outside
the city and making adroit use of his few horses and guns, Cortés
defeated the army pursuing him. Doggedly then he put together a fresh
army of Indians who hated the Aztecs and of whites who were dribbling
into Mexico to see what was going on. The next year, on August 13, 1521,
he recaptured Tenochtitlán, again at heavy cost. By twisting logic only
a little, he could have blamed all these troubles on Narváez’s inept
interference. He did not. He treated the man kindly and then sent him
home to Spain with, so it is said, a bagful of golden artifacts.
“I saw the things which have been brought to the King from the new
land of gold, a sun all of gold a whole fathom broad, and a moon all
of silver of the same size, also two rooms full of the armour of the
people there, and all manner of wondrous weapons of [the Aztecs],
harnesses and darts, very strange clothing, beds and all kinds of
wonderful objects of human use, much better worth of seeing than
prodigies. These things are so precious that they are valued at a
hundred thousand florins. All the days of my life I have seen
nothing that rejoiced my heart so much as these things, for I saw
among them wonderful works of art, and I marvelled at the subtle
ingenia of people in foreign lands. Indeed, I cannot express all
that I thought there.”—_Albrecht Dürer upon seeing the Aztec objects
Cortés sent Charles V in 1519._
In Spain Narváez intrigued against the nation’s hero, as Cortés then
was, as best he could. He also yearned for a conquest in which he could
redeem himself. When the governorship of Florida fell open, he applied
for the position and won. His plan was to establish his first colony at
Río de las Palmas, north of Pánuco, on Mexico’s northeast coast, where
Cortés had already placed a defensive outpost. From there he could put
pressure on his enemy, who many of the king’s council thought was
growing too big for his boots. He could also search for the treasure
that he was sure lay somewhere in the north, in the land from which he
supposed the Aztecs had originally come—land where the fabled Seven
Cities might lie.
Six hundred soldiers, sailors, and would-be settlers, a few of whom had
their wives with them, left Spain aboard five ships in June 1527. One of
the adventurers was Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, making his first trip to
the New World. It was a hard journey—desertions, groundings, a deadly
hurricane, and finally a series of adverse storms that drove the little
fleet off its intended course for the Río de las Palmas to a landing on
the west coast of the Florida peninsula, probably opposite the head of
Tampa Bay.
In view of the peninsula’s nearness to Cuba, remarkably little was known
about it. Beginning with Alonso Alvarez de Pineda in 1519, a few sea
explorers had groped along its western coast on their way to Mexico.
Occasional traders and slave hunters had poked into some of its lovely
bays—and had often taken severe trouncings from the Indians for their
pains. Juan Ponce de León, the only man to try to establish a colony
there, was mortally wounded during the attempt.