Book XVI.

Chapter I.

Arrangement of Diego Mendez with the Caciques for Supplies of Provisions.

--Sent to San Domingo by Columbus in Quest of Relief.

[1503.]

The island of Jamaica was extremely populous and fertile; and the harbor

soon swarmed with Indians, who brought provisions to barter with the

Spaniards. To prevent any disputes in purchasing or sharing these

supplies, two persons were appointed to superintend all bargains, and the

provisions thus obtained were divided every evening among the people. This

arrangement had a happy effect in promoting a peaceful intercourse. The

stores thus furnished, however, coming from a limited neighborhood of

improvident beings, were not sufficient for the necessities of the

Spaniards, and were so irregular as often to leave them in pinching want.

They feared, too, that the neighborhood might soon be exhausted, in which

case they should be reduced to famine. In this emergency, Diego Mendez

stepped forward with his accustomed zeal, and volunteered to set off, with

three men, on a foraging expedition about the island. His offer being

gladly accepted by the admiral, he departed with his comrades well armed.

He was every where treated with the utmost kindness by the natives. They

took him to their houses, set meat and drink before him and his

companions, and performed all the rites of savage hospitality. Mendez made

an arrangement with the cacique of a numerous tribe, that his subjects

should hunt and fish, and make cassava bread, and bring a quantity of

provisions every day to the harbor. They were to receive, in exchange,

knives, combs, beads, fishhooks, hawks'-bells, and other articles, from a

Spaniard, who was to reside among them for that purpose. The agreement

being made, Mendez dispatched one of his comrades to apprise the admiral.

He then pursued his journey three leagues farther, when he made a similar

arrangement, and dispatched another of his companions to the admiral.

Proceeding onward, about thirteen leagues from the ships, he arrived at

the residence of another cacique, called Huarco, where he was generously

entertained. The cacique ordered his subjects to bring a large quantity of

provisions, for which Mendez paid him on the spot, and made arrangements

for a like supply at stated intervals. He dispatched his third companion

with this supply to the admiral, requesting, as usual, that an agent might

be sent to receive and pay for the regular deliveries of provisions.

Mendez was now left alone, but he was fond of any enterprise that gave

individual distinction. He requested of the cacique two Indians to

accompany him to the end of the island; one to carry his provisions, and

the other to bear the hammac, or cotton net in which he slept. These being

granted, he pushed resolutely forward along the coast, until he reached

the eastern extremity of Jamaica. Here he found a powerful cacique of the

name of Ameyro. Mendez had buoyant spirits, great address, and an

ingratiating manner with the savages. He and the cacique became great

friends, exchanged names, which is a kind of token of brotherhood, and

Mendez engaged him to furnish provisions to the ships. He then bought an

excellent canoe of the cacique, for which he gave a splendid brass basin,

a short frock or cassock, and one of the two shirts which formed his stock

of linen. The cacique furnished him with six Indians to navigate his bark,

and they parted mutually well pleased. Diego Mendez coasted his way back,

touching at the various places where he had made his arrangements. He

found the Spanish agents already arrived at them, loaded his canoe with

provisions, and returned in triumph to the harbor, where he was received

with acclamations by his comrades, and with open arms by the admiral. The

provisions he brought were a most seasonable supply, for the Spaniards

were absolutely fasting; and thenceforward Indians arrived daily, well

laden, from the marts which he had established. [179]

The immediate wants of his people being thus provided for, Columbus

revolved in his anxious mind the means of getting from this island. His

ships were beyond the possibility of repair, and there was no hope of any

chance sail arriving to his relief, on the shores of a savage island, in

an unfrequented sea. The most likely measure appeared to be, to send

notice of his situation to Ovando, the governor at San Domingo, entreating

him to dispatch a vessel to his relief. But how was this message to be

conveyed? The distance between Jamaica and Hispaniola was forty leagues,

across a gulf swept by contrary currents; there were no means of

transporting a messenger, except in the light canoes of the savages; and

who would undertake so hazardous a voyage in a frail bark of the kind?

Suddenly the idea of Diego Mendez, and the canoe he had recently

purchased, presented itself to the mind of Columbus. He knew the ardor and

intrepidity of Mendez, and his love of distinction by any hazardous

exploit. Taking him aside, therefore, he addressed him in a manner

calculated both to stimulate his zeal, and flatter his self-love. Mendez

himself gives an artless account of this interesting conversation, which

is full of character.

"Diego Mendez, my son," said the venerable admiral, "none of those whom I

have here understand the great peril in which we are placed, excepting you

and myself. We are few in number, and these savage Indians are many, and

of fickle and irritable natures. On the least provocation they may throw

firebrands from the shore, and consume us in our straw-thatched cabins.

The arrangement which you have made with them for provisions, and which at

present they fulfill so cheerfully, to-morrow they may break in their

caprice, and may refuse to bring us any thing; nor have we the means to

compel them by force, but are entirely at their pleasure. I have thought

of a remedy, if it meets with your views. In this canoe, which you have

purchased, some one may pass over to Hispaniola, and procure a ship, by

which we may all be delivered from this great peril into which we have

fallen. Tell me your opinion on the matter."

"To this," says Diego Mendez, "I replied: 'Señor, the danger in which we

are placed, I well know, is far greater than is easily conceived. As to

passing from this island to Hispaniola, in so small a vessel as a canoe, I

hold it not merely difficult, but impossible; since it is necessary to

traverse a gulf of forty leagues, and between islands where the sea is

extremely impetuous, and seldom in repose. I know not who there is would

adventure upon so extreme a peril.'"

Columbus made no reply, but from his looks and the nature of his silence,

Mendez plainly perceived himself to be the person whom the admiral had in

view; "Whereupon," continues he, "I added: 'Señor, I have many times put

my life in peril of death to save you and all those who are here, and God

has hitherto preserved me in a miraculous manner. There are, nevertheless,

murmurers, who say that your Excellency intrusts to me all affairs wherein

honor is to be gained, while there are others in your company who would

execute them as well as I do. Therefore I beg that you would summon all

the people, and propose this enterprise to them, to see if among them

there is any one who will undertake it, which I doubt. If all decline it,

I will then come forward and risk my life in your service, as I many times

have done.'" [180]

The admiral gladly humored the wishes of the worthy Mendez, for never was

simple egotism accompanied by more generous and devoted loyalty. On the

following morning, the crew was assembled, and the proposition publicly

made. Every one drew back at the thoughts of it, pronouncing it the height

of rashness. Upon this, Diego Mendez stepped forward. "Señor," said he, "I

have but one life to lose, yet I am willing to venture it for your service

and for the good of all here present, and I trust in the protection of

God, which I have experienced on so many other occasions."

Columbus embraced this zealous follower, who immediately set about

preparing for his expedition. Drawing his canoe on shore, he put on a

false keel, nailed weather-boards along the bow and stern, to prevent the

sea from breaking over it; payed it with a coat of tar; furnished it with

a mast and sail; and put in provisions for himself, a Spanish comrade, and

six Indians.

In the meantime, Columbus wrote letters to Ovando, requesting that a ship

might be immediately sent to bring him and his men to Hispaniola. He wrote

a letter likewise to the sovereigns; for, after fulfilling his mission at

San Domingo, Diego Mendez was to proceed to Spain on the admiral's

affairs. In the letter to the sovereigns, Columbus depicted his deplorable

situation, and entreated that a vessel might be dispatched to Hispaniola,

to convey himself and his crew to Spain. He gave a comprehensive account

of his voyage, most particulars of which have already been incorporated in

this history, and he insisted greatly on the importance of the discovery

of Veragua. He gave it as his opinion, that here were the mines of the

Aurea Chersonesus, whence Solomon had derived such wealth for the building

of the Temple. He entreated that this golden coast might not, like other

places which he had discovered, be abandoned to adventurers, or placed

under the government of men who felt no interest in the cause. "This is

not a child," he adds, "to be abandoned to a step-mother. I never think of

Hispaniola and Paria without weeping. Their case is desperate and past

cure; I hope their example may cause this region to be treated in a

different manner." His imagination becomes heated. He magnifies the

supposed importance of Veragua, as transcending all his former

discoveries; and he alludes to his favorite project for the deliverance of

the Holy Sepulchre: "Jerusalem," he says, "and Mount Sion, are to be

rebuilt by the hand of a Christian. Who is he to be? God, by the mouth of

the Prophet, in the fourteenth Psalm, declares it. The abbot Joachim

[181] says that he is to come out of Spain." His thoughts then revert to

the ancient story of the Grand Khan, who had requested that sages might

be sent to instruct him in the Christian faith. Columbus, thinking that

he had been in the very vicinity of Cathay, exclaims with sudden zeal,

"Who will offer himself for this task? If our Lord permit me to return to

Spain, I engage to take him there, God helping, in safety."

Nothing is more characteristic of Columbus than his earnest, artless, at

times eloquent, and at times almost incoherent letters. What an instance

of soaring enthusiasm and irrepressible enterprise is here exhibited! At

the time that he was indulging in these visions, and proposing new and

romantic enterprises, he was broken down by age and infirmities, racked by

pain, confined to his bed, and shut up in a wreck on the coast of a remote

and savage island. No stronger picture can be given of his situation, than

that which shortly follows this transient glow of excitement; when, with

one of his sudden transitions of thought, he awakens, as it were, to his

actual condition.

"Hitherto," says he, "I have wept for others; but now, have pity upon me,

heaven, and weep for me, O earth! In my temporal concerns, without a

farthing to offer for a mass; cast away here in the Indies; surrounded by

cruel and hostile savages; isolated, infirm, expecting each day will be my

last: in spiritual concerns, separated from the holy sacraments of the

church, so that my soul, if parted here from my body, must be for ever

lost! Weep for me, whoever has charity, truth, and justice! I came not on

this voyage to gain honor or estate, that is most certain, for all hope of

the kind was already dead within me. I came to serve your majesties with a

sound intention and an honest zeal, and I speak no falsehood. If it should

please God to deliver me hence, I humbly supplicate your majesties to

permit me to repair to Rome, and perform other pilgrimages."

The dispatches being ready, and the preparations of the canoe completed,

Diego Mendez embarked, with his Spanish comrade and his six Indians, and

departed along the coast to the eastward. The voyage was toilsome and

perilous. They had to make their way against strong currents. Once they

were taken by roving canoes of Indians, but made their escape, and at

length arrived at the end of the island; a distance of thirty-four leagues

from the harbor. Here they remained, waiting for calm weather to venture

upon the broad gulf, when they were suddenly surrounded and taken

prisoners by a number of hostile Indians, who carried them off a distance

of three leagues, where they determined to kill them. Some dispute arose

about the division of the spoils taken from the Spaniards, whereupon the

savages agreed to settle it by a game of chance. While they were thus

engaged, Diego Mendez escaped, found his way to his canoe, embarked in it,

and returned alone to the harbor after fifteen days' absence. What became

of his companions he does not mention, being seldom apt to speak of any

person but himself. This account is taken from the narrative inserted in

his last will and testament.

Columbus, though grieved at the failure of his message, was rejoiced at

the escape of the faithful Mendez. The latter, nothing daunted by the

perils and hardships he had undergone, offered to depart immediately on a

second attempt, provided he could have persons to accompany him to the end

of the island, and protect him from the natives. This the Adelantado

offered to undertake, with a large party well armed. Bartholomew Fiesco, a

Genoese, who had been captain of one of the caravels, was associated with

Mendez in this second expedition. He was a man of great worth, strongly

attached to the admiral, and much esteemed by him. Each had a large canoe

under his command, in which were six Spaniards and ten Indians--the latter

were to serve as oarsmen. The canoes were to keep in company. On reaching

Hispaniola, Fiesco was to return immediately to Jamaica, to relieve the

anxiety of the admiral and his crew, by tidings of the safe arrival of

their messenger. In the meantime, Diego Mendez was to proceed to San

Domingo, deliver his letter to Ovando, procure and dispatch a ship, and

then depart for Spain with a letter to the sovereigns.

All arrangements being made, the Indians placed in the canoes their frugal

provision of cassava bread, and each his calabash of water. The Spaniards,

beside their bread, had a supply of the flesh of utias, and each his sword

and target. In this way they launched forth upon their long and perilous

voyage, followed by the prayers of their countrymen.

The Adelantado, with his armed band, kept pace with them along the coast.

There was no attempt of the natives to molest them, and they arrived in

safety at the end of the island. Here they remained three days before the

sea was sufficiently calm for them to venture forth in their feeble barks.

At length, the weather being quite serene, they bade farewell to their

comrades, and committed themselves to the broad sea. The Adelantado

remained watching them, until they became mere specks on the ocean, and

the evening hid them from his view. The next day he set out on his return

to the harbor, stopping at various villages on the way, and endeavoring to

confirm the good-will of the natives. [182]

Chapter II.

Mutiny of Porras.

[1503.]

It might have been thought that the adverse fortune which had so long

persecuted Columbus was now exhausted. The envy which had once sickened at

his glory and prosperity could scarcely have devised for him a more

forlorn heritage in the world he had discovered. The tenant of a wreck on

a savage coast, in an untraversed ocean, at the mercy of barbarous hordes,

who, in a moment, from precarious friends, might be transformed into

ferocious enemies; afflicted, too, by excruciating maladies which confined

him to his bed, and by the pains and infirmities which hardship and

anxiety had heaped upon his advancing age. But he had not yet exhausted

his cup of bitterness. He had yet to experience an evil worse than storm,

or shipwreck, or bodily anguish, or the violence of savage hordes,--the

perfidy of those in whom he confided.

Mendez and Fiesco had not long departed when the Spaniards in the wreck

began to grow sickly, partly from the toils and exposures of the recent

voyage, partly from being crowded in narrow quarters in a moist and sultry

climate, and partly from want of their accustomed food, for they could not

habituate themselves to the vegetable diet of the Indians. Their maladies

were rendered more insupportable by mental suffering, by that suspense

which frets the spirit, and that hope deferred which corrodes the heart.

Accustomed to a life of bustle and variety, they had now nothing to do but

loiter about the dreary hulk, look out upon the sea, watch for the canoe

of Fiesco, wonder at its protracted absence, and doubt its return. A long

time elapsed, much more than sufficient for the voyage, but nothing was

seen or heard of the canoe. Fears were entertained that their messenger

had perished. If so, how long were they to remain here, vainly looking for

relief which was never to arrive? Some sank into deep despondency, others

became peevish and impatient. Murmurs broke forth, and, as usual with men

in distress, murmurs of the most unreasonable kind. Instead of

sympathizing with their aged and infirm commander, who was involved in the

same calamity, who in suffering transcended them all, and yet who was

incessantly studious of their welfare, they began to rail against him as

the cause of all their misfortunes.

The factious feeling of an unreasonable multitude would be of little

importance if left to itself, and might end in idle clamor; it is the

industry of one or two evil spirits which generally directs it to an

object, and makes it mischievous. Among the officers of Columbus were two

brothers, Francisco and Diego de Porras. They were related to the royal

treasurer Morales, who had married their sister, and had made interest

with the admiral to give them some employment in the expedition.

[183] To gratify the treasurer, he had appointed Francisco de Porras

captain of one of the caravels, and had obtained for his brother Diego

the situation of notary and accountant-general of the squadron. He had

treated them, as he declares, with the kindness of relatives, though

both proved incompetent to their situations. They were vain and insolent

men, and, like many others whom Columbus had benefited, requited his

kindness with black ingratitude. [184]

These men, finding the common people in a highly impatient and

discontented state, wrought upon them with seditious insinuations,

assuring them that all hope of relief through the agency of Mendez was

idle; it being a mere delusion of the admiral to keep them quiet, and

render them subservient to his purposes. He had no desire nor intention to

return to Spain; and in fact was banished thence. Hispaniola was equally

closed to him, as had been proved by the exclusion of his ships from its

harbor in a time of peril. To him, at present, all places were alike, and

he was content to remain in Jamaica until his friends could make interest

at court, and procure his recall from banishment. As to Mendez and Fiesco,

they had been sent to Spain by Columbus on his own private affairs, not to

procure a ship for the relief of his followers. If this were not the case,

why did not the ships arrive, or why did not Fiesco return, as had been

promised? Or if the canoes had really been sent for succor, the long time

that had elapsed without tidings of them, gave reason to believe they had

perished by the way. In such case, their only alternative would be, to

take the canoes of the Indians and endeavor to reach Hispaniola. There was

no hope, however, of persuading the admiral to such an undertaking; he was

too old, and too helpless from the gout, to expose himself to the

hardships of such a voyage. What then? were they to be sacrificed to his

interests or his infirmities?--to give up their only chance for escape,

and linger and perish with him in this desolate wreck? If they succeeded

in reaching Hispaniola, they would be the better received for having left

the admiral behind. Ovando was secretly hostile to him, fearing that he

would regain the government of the island; on their arrival in Spain, the

bishop Fonseca, from his enmity to Columbus, would be sure to take their

part; the brothers Porras had powerful friends and relatives at court, to

counteract any representations that might be made by the admiral; and they

cited the case of Roldan's rebellion, to show that the prejudices of the

public, and of men in power, would always be against him. Nay, they

insinuated that the sovereigns, who, on that occasion, had deprived him of

part of his dignities and privileges, would rejoice at a pretext for

stripping him of the remainder. [185]

Columbus was aware that the minds of his people were imbittered against

him. He had repeatedly been treated with insolent impatience, and

reproached with being the cause of their disasters. Accustomed, however,

to the unreasonableness of men in adversity, and exercised, by many

trials, in the mastery of his passions, he bore with their petulance,

soothed their irritation, and endeavored to cheer their spirits by the

hopes of speedy succor. A little while longer, and he trusted that Fiesco

would arrive with good tidings, when the certainty of relief would put an

end to all these clamors. The mischief, however, was deeper than he

apprehended: a complete mutiny had been organized.

On the 2d of January, 1504, he was in his small cabin, on the stern of his

vessel, being confined to his bed by the gout, which had now rendered him

a complete cripple. While ruminating on his disastrous situation,

Francisco de Porras suddenly entered. His abrupt and agitated manner

betrayed the evil nature of his visit. He had the flurried impudence of a

man about to perpetrate an open crime. Breaking forth into bitter

complaints, at their being kept, week after week, and month after month,

to perish piecemeal in that desolate place, he accused the admiral of

having no intention to return to Spain. Columbus suspected something

sinister from this unusual arrogance; he maintained, however, his

calmness, and, raising himself in his bed, endeavored to reason with

Porras. He pointed out the impossibility of departing until those who had

gone to Hispaniola should send them vessels. He represented how much more

urgent must be his desire to depart, since he had not merely his own

safety to provide for, but was accountable to God and his sovereigns for

the welfare of all who had been committed to his charge. He reminded

Porras that he had always consulted with them all, as to the measures to

be taken for the common safety, and that what he had done, had been with

the general approbation; still, if any other measure appeared advisable,

he recommended that they should assemble together, and consult upon it,

and adopt whatever course appeared most judicious.

The measures of Porras and his comrades, however, were already concerted,

and when men are determined on mutiny, they are deaf to reason. He bluntly

replied, that there was no time for further consultations. "Embark

immediately or remain in God's name, were the only alternatives." "For my

part," said he, turning his back upon the admiral, and elevating his voice

so that it resounded all over the vessel, "I am for Castile! those who

choose may follow me!" shouts arose immediately from all sides, "I will

follow you! and I! and I!" Numbers of the crew sprang upon the most

conspicuous parts of the ship, brandishing weapons, and uttering mingled

threats and cries of rebellion. Some called upon Porras for orders what to

do; others shouted "To Castile! to Castile!" while, amidst the general

uproar, the voices of some desperadoes were heard menacing the life of the

admiral.

Columbus, hearing the tumult, leaped from his bed, ill and infirm as he

was, and tottered out of the cabin, stumbling and falling in the exertion,

hoping by his presence to pacify the mutineers. Three or four of his

faithful adherents, however, fearing some violence might be offered him,

threw themselves between him and the throng, and taking him in their arms,

compelled him to return to his cabin.

The Adelantado likewise sallied forth, but in a different mood. He planted

himself, with lance in hand, in a situation to take the whole brunt of the

assault. It was with the greatest difficulty that several of the loyal

part of the crew could appease his fury, and prevail upon him to

relinquish his weapon, and retire to the cabin of his brother. They now

entreated Porras and his companions to depart peaceably, since no one

sought to oppose them. No advantage could be gained by violence; but

should they cause the death of the admiral, they would draw upon

themselves the severest punishment from the sovereigns. [186]

These representations moderated the turbulence of the mutineers, and they

now proceeded to carry their plans into execution. Taking ten canoes which

the admiral had purchased of the Indians, they embarked in them with as

much exultation as if certain of immediately landing on the shores of

Spain. Others, who had not been concerned in the mutiny, seeing so large a

force departing, and fearing to remain behind, when so reduced in number,

hastily collected their effects, and entered likewise into the canoes. It

this way forty-eight abandoned the admiral. Many of those who remained

were only detained by sickness, for, had they been well, most of them

would have accompanied the deserters. [187] The few who remained faithful

to the admiral, and the sick, who crawled forth from their cabins, saw the

departure of the mutineers with tears and lamentations, giving themselves

up for lost. Notwithstanding his malady, Columbus left his bed, mingling

among those who were loyal, and visiting those who were ill, endeavoring

in every way to cheer and comfort them. He entreated them to put their

trust in God, who would yet relieve them; and he promised, on his return

to Spain, to throw himself at the feet of the queen, represent their

loyalty and constancy, and obtain for them rewards that should compensate

for all their sufferings. [188]

In the meantime, Francisco de Porras and his followers, in their squadron

of canoes, coasted the island to the eastward, following the route taken

by Mendez and Fiesco. Wherever they landed, they committed outrages upon

the Indians, robbing them of their provisions, and of whatever they

coveted of their effects. They endeavored to make their own crimes redound

to the prejudice of Columbus, pretending to act under his authority, and

affirming that he would pay for every thing they took. If he refused, they

told the natives to kill him. They represented him as an implacable foe to

the Indians; as one who had tyrannized over other islands, causing the

misery and death of the natives, and who only sought to gain a sway here

for the purpose of inflicting like calamities.

Having reached the eastern extremity of the island, they waited until the

weather should be perfectly calm, before they ventured to cross the gulf.

Being unskilled in the management of canoes, they procured several Indians

to accompany them. The sea being at length quite smooth, they set forth

upon their voyage. Scarcely had they proceeded four leagues from land when

a contrary wind arose, and the waves began to swell. They turned

immediately for shore. The canoes, from their light structure, and being

nearly round and without keels, were easily overturned, and required to be

carefully balanced. They were now deeply freighted by men unaccustomed to

them, and as the sea rose, they frequently let in the water. The Spaniards

were alarmed, and endeavored to lighten them, by throwing overboard every

thing that could be spared; retaining only their arms, and a part of their

provisions. The danger augmented with the wind. They now compelled the

Indians to leap into the sea, excepting such as were absolutely necessary

to navigate the canoes. If they hesitated, they drove them overboard with

the edge of the sword. The Indians were skillful swimmers, but the

distance to land was too great for their strength. They kept about the

canoes, therefore, taking hold of them occasionally to rest themselves and

recover breath. As their weight disturbed the balance of the canoes, and

endangered their overturning, the Spaniards cut off their hands, and

stabbed them with their swords. Some died by the weapons of these cruel

men, others were exhausted and sank beneath the waves; thus eighteen

perished miserably, and none survived but such as had been retained to

manage the canoes.

When the Spaniards got back to land, different opinions arose as to what

course they should next pursue. Some were for crossing to Cuba, for which

island the wind was favorable. It was thought they might easily cross

thence to the end of Hispaniola. Others advised that they should return

and make their peace with the admiral, or take from him what remained of

arms and stores, having thrown almost every thing overboard during their

late danger. Others counseled another attempt to cross over to Hispaniola,

as soon as the sea should become tranquil.

This last advice was adopted. They remained for a month at an Indian

village near the eastern point of the island, living on the substance of

the natives, and treating them in the most arbitrary and capricious

manner. When at length the weather became serene, they made a second

attempt, but were again driven back by adverse winds. Losing all patience,

therefore, and despairing of the enterprise, they abandoned their canoes,

and returned westward; wandering from village to village, a dissolute and

lawless gang, supporting themselves by fair means or foul, according as

they met with kindness or hostility, and passing like a pestilence through

the island. [189]

Chapter III.

Scarcity of Provisions.--Strategem of Columbus to Obtain Supplies from the

Natives.

[1504.]

While Porras and his crew were raging about with that desperate and

joyless licentiousness which attends the abandonment of principle,

Columbus presented the opposite picture of a man true to others and to

himself, and supported, amidst hardships and difficulties, by conscious

rectitude. Deserted by the healthful and vigorous portion of his garrison,

he exerted himself to soothe and encourage the infirm and desponding

remnant which remained. Regardless of his own painful maladies, he was

only attentive to relieve their sufferings. The few who were fit for

service were required to mount guard on the wreck, or attend upon the

sick; there were none to forage for provisions. The scrupulous good faith

and amicable conduct maintained by Columbus towards the natives had now

their effect. Considerable supplies of provisions were brought by them

from time to time, which he purchased at a reasonable rate. The most

palatable and nourishing of these, together with the small stock of

European biscuit that remained, he ordered to be appropriated to the

sustenance of the infirm. Knowing how much the body is affected by the

operations of the mind, he endeavored to rouse the spirits, and animate

the hopes, of the drooping sufferers. Concealing his own anxiety, he

maintained a serene and even cheerful countenance, encouraging his men by

kind words, and holding forth confident anticipations of speedy relief. By

his friendly and careful treatment, he soon recruited both the health and

spirits of his people, and brought them into a condition to contribute to

the common safety. Judicious regulations, calmly but firmly enforced,

maintained every thing in order. The men became sensible of the advantages

of wholesome discipline, and perceived that the restraints imposed upon

them by their commander were for their own good, and ultimately productive

of their own comfort.

Columbus had thus succeeded in guarding against internal ills, when

alarming evils began to menace from without. The Indians, unused to lay up

any stock of provisions, and unwilling to subject themselves to extra

labor, found it difficult to furnish the quantity of food daily required

for so many hungry men. The European trinkets, once so precious, lost

their value, in proportion as they became common. The importance of the

admiral had been greatly diminished by the desertion of so many of his

followers; and the malignant instigations of the rebels had awakened

jealousy and enmity in several of the villages which had been accustomed

to furnish provisions.

By degrees, therefore, the supplies fell off. The arrangements for the

daily delivery of certain quantities, made by Diego Mendez, were

irregularly attended to, and at length ceased entirely. The Indians no

longer thronged to the harbor with provisions, and often refused them when

applied for. The Spaniards were obliged to forage about the neighborhood

for their daily food; but found more and more difficulty in procuring it;

thus, in addition to their other causes for despondency, they began to

entertain horrible apprehensions of famine.

The admiral heard their melancholy forebodings, and beheld the growing

evil, but was at a loss for a remedy. To resort to force was an

alternative full of danger, and of but temporary efficacy. It would

require all those who were well enough to bear arms to sally forth, while

he and the rest of the infirm would be left defenceless on board of the

wreck, exposed to the vengeance of the natives.

In the meantime, the scarcity daily increased. The Indians perceived the

wants of the white men, and had learnt from them the art of making

bargains. They asked ten times the former quantity of European articles

for any amount of provisions, and brought their supplies in scanty

quantities, to enhance the eagerness of the hungry Spaniards. At length,

even this relief ceased, and there was an absolute distress for food. The

jealousy of the natives had been universally roused by Porras and his

followers, and they withheld all provisions, in hopes either of starving

the admiral and his people, or of driving them from the island. In this

extremity, a fortunate idea presented itself to Columbus. From his

knowledge of astronomy, he ascertained that, within three days, there

would be a total eclipse of the moon in the early part of the night. He

sent, therefore, an Indian of Hispaniola, who served as his interpreter,

to summon the principal caciques to a grand conference, appointing for it

the day of the eclipse. When all were assembled, he told them by his

interpreter, that he and his followers were worshipers of a Deity who

dwelt in the skies; who favored such as did well, but punished all

transgressors. That, as they must all have noticed, he had protected Diego

Mendez and his companions in their voyage, because they went in obedience

to the orders of their commander; but had visited Porras and his

companions with all kinds of afflictions, in consequence of their

rebellion. This great Deity, he added, was incensed against the Indians

who refused to furnish his faithful worshipers with provisions, and

intended to chastise them with famine and pestilence. Lest they should

disbelieve this warning, a signal would be given that night. They would

behold the moon change its color, and gradually lose its light; a token of

the fearful punishment which awaited them.

Many of the Indians were alarmed at the prediction, others treated it with

derision,--all, however, awaited with solicitude the coming of the night.

When they beheld a dark shadow stealing over the moon, they began to

tremble; with the progress of the eclipse their fears increased, and when

they saw a mysterious darkness covering the whole face of nature, there

were no bounds to their terror. Seizing upon whatever provisions were at

hand, they hurried to the ships, threw themselves at the feet of Columbus,

and implored him to intercede, with his God to withhold the threatened

calamities, assuring him they would thenceforth bring him whatever he

required. Columbus shut himself up in his cabin, as if to commune with the

Deity, and remained there during the increase of the eclipse, the forests

and shores all the while resounding with the bowlings and supplications of

the savages. When the eclipse was about to diminish, he came forth and

informed the natives that his God had deigned to pardon them, on condition

of their fulfilling their promises; in sign of which he would withdraw the

darkness from the moon.

When the Indians saw that planet restored to its brightness, and rolling

in all its beauty through the firmament, they overwhelmed the admiral with

thanks for his intercession, and repaired to their homes, joyful at having

escaped such great disasters. Regarding Columbus with awe and reverence,

as a man in the peculiar favor and confidence of the Deity, since he knew

upon earth what was passing in the heavens, they hastened to propitiate

him with gifts; supplies again arrived daily at the harbor, and from that

time forward, there was no want of provisions. [190]

Chapter IV.

Mission of Diego de Escobar to the Admiral.

[1504.]

Eight months had now elapsed since the departure of Mendez and Fiesco,

without any tidings of their fate. For a long time the Spaniards had kept

a wistful look-out upon the ocean, flattering themselves that every Indian

canoe, gliding at a distance, might be the harbinger of deliverance. The

hopes of the most sanguine were now fast sinking into despondency. What

thousand perils awaited such frail barks, and so weak a party, on an

expedition of the kind! Either the canoes had been swallowed up by

boisterous waves and adverse currents, or their crews had perished among

the rugged mountains and savage tribes of Hispaniola. To increase their

despondency, they were informed that a vessel had been seen, bottom

upwards, drifting with the currents along the coasts of Jamaica. This

might be the vessel sent to their relief; and if so, all their hopes were

shipwrecked with it. This rumor, it is affirmed, was invented and

circulated in the island by the rebels, that it might reach the ears of

those who remained faithful to the admiral, and reduce them to despair.

[191] It no doubt had its effect. Losing all hope of aid from a distance,

and considering themselves abandoned and forgotten by the world, many

grew wild and desperate in their plans. Another conspiracy was formed by

one Bernardo, an apothecary of Valencia, with two confederates, Alonzo

de Zamora and Pedro de Villatoro. They designed to seize upon the

remaining canoes, and seek their way to Hispaniola. [192]

The mutiny was on the very point of breaking out, when one evening,

towards dusk, a sail was seen standing towards the harbor. The transports

of the poor Spaniards may be more easily conceived than described. The

vessel was of small size; it kept out to sea, but sent its boat to visit

the ships. Every eye was eagerly bent to hail the countenances of

Christians and deliverers. As the boat approached, they descried in it

Diego de Escobar, a man who had been one of the most active confederates

of Roldan in his rebellion, who had been condemned to death under the

administration of Columbus, and pardoned by his successor Bobadilla. There

was bad omen in such a messenger.

Coming alongside of the ships, Escobar put a letter on board from Ovando,

governor of Hispaniola, together with a barrel of wine and a side of

bacon, sent as presents to the admiral. He then drew off, and talked with

Columbus from a distance. He told him that he was sent by the governor to

express his great concern at his misfortunes, and his regret at not having

in port a vessel of sufficient size to bring off himself and his people,

but that he would send one as soon as possible. Escobar gave the admiral

assurances likewise, that his concerns in Hispaniola had been faithfully

attended to. He requested him, if he had any letter to write to the

governor in reply, to give it to him as soon as possible, as he wished to

return immediately.

There was something extremely singular in this mission, but there was no

time for comments; Escobar was urgent to depart. Columbus hastened,

therefore, to write a reply to Ovando, depicting the dangers and

distresses of his situation, increased as they were by the rebellion of

Porras, but expressing his reliance on his promise to send him relief,

confiding in which he should remain patiently on board of his wreck. He

recommended Diego Mendez and Bartholomew Fiesco to his favor, assuring him

that they were not sent to San Domingo with any artful design, but simply

to represent his perilous situation, and to apply for succor. When

Escobar received this letter, he returned immediately on board of his

vessel, which made all sail, and soon disappeared in the gathering gloom

of the night.

If the Spaniards had hailed the arrival of this vessel with transport, its

sudden departure and the mysterious conduct of Escobar inspired no less

wonder and consternation. He had kept aloof from all communication with

them, as if he felt no interest in their welfare, or sympathy in their

misfortunes. Columbus saw the gloom that had gathered in their

countenances, and feared the consequences. He eagerly sought, therefore,

to dispel their suspicions, professing himself satisfied with the

communications received from Ovando, and assuring them that vessels would

soon arrive to take them all away. In confidence of this, he said, he had

declined to depart with Escobar, because his vessel was too small to take

the whole, preferring to remain with them and share their lot, and had

dispatched the caravel in such haste that no time might be lost in

expediting the necessary ships. These assurances, and the certainty that

their situation was known in San Domingo, cheered the hearts of the

people. Their hopes again revived, and the conspiracy, which had been on

the point of breaking forth, was completely disconcerted.

In secret, however, Columbus was exceedingly indignant at the conduct of

Ovando. He had left him for many months in a state of the utmost danger,

and most distressing uncertainty, exposed to the hostilities of the

natives, the seditions of his men, and the suggestions of his own despair.

He had, at length, sent a mere tantalizing message, by a man known to be

one of his bitterest enemies, with a present of food, which, from its

scantiness, seemed intended to mock their necessities.

Columbus believed that Ovando had purposely neglected him, hoping that he

might perish on the island, being apprehensive that, should he return in

safety, he would be reinstated in the government of Hispaniola; and he

considered Escobar merely as a spy sent to ascertain the state of himself

and his crew, and whether they were yet in existence. Las Casas, who was

then at San Domingo, expresses similar suspicions. He says that Escobar

was chosen because Ovando was certain that, from ancient enmity, he would

have no sympathy for the admiral. That he was ordered not to go on board

of the vessels, nor to land, neither was he to hold conversation with any

of the crew, nor to receive any letters, except those of the admiral. In a

word, that he was a mere scout to collect information. [193]

Others have ascribed the long neglect of Ovando to extreme caution. There

was a rumor prevalent that Columbus, irritated at the suspension of his

dignities by the court of Spain, intended to transfer his newly-discovered

countries into the hands of his native republic Genoa, or of some other

power. Such rumors had long been current, and to their recent circulation

Columbus himself alludes in his letter sent to the sovereigns by Diego

Mendez. The most plausible apology given, is, that Ovando was absent for

several months in the interior, occupied in wars with the natives, and

that there were no ships at San Domingo of sufficient burden to take

Columbus and his crew to Spain. He may have feared that, should they come

to reside for any length of time on the island, either the admiral would

interfere in public affairs, or endeavor to make a party in his favor; or

that, in consequence of the number of his old enemies still resident

there, former scenes of faction and turbulence might be revived.

[194] In the meantime the situation of Columbus in Jamaica, while it

disposed of him quietly until vessels should arrive from Spain, could

not, he may have thought, be hazardous. He had sufficient force and arms

for defence, and he had made amicable arrangements with the natives for

the supply of provisions, as Diego Mendez, who had made those

arrangements, had no doubt informed him. Such may have been the

reasoning by which Ovando, under the real influence of his interest, may

have reconciled his conscience to a measure which excited the strong

reprobation of his contemporaries, and has continued to draw upon him

the suspicions of mankind.

Chapter V.

Voyage of Diego Mendez and Bartholomew Fiesco in a Canoe to Hispaniola.

[1504.]

It is proper to give here some account of the mission of Diego Mendez and

Bartholomew Fiesco, and of the circumstances which prevented the latter

from returning to Jamaica. Having taken leave of the Adelantado at the

east end of the island, they continued all day in a direct course,

animating the Indians who navigated their canoes, and who frequently

paused at their labor. There was no wind, the sky was without a cloud, and

the sea perfectly calm; the heat was intolerable, and the rays of the sun,

reflected from the surface of the ocean, seemed to scorch their very eyes.

The Indians, exhausted by heat and toil, would often leap into the water

to cool and refresh themselves, and, after remaining there a short time,

would return with new vigor to their labors. At the going down of the sun

they lost sight of land. During the night the Indians took turns, one half

to row while the others slept. The Spaniards, in like manner, divided

their forces: while one half took repose, the others kept guard with their

weapons in hand, ready to defend themselves in case of any perfidy on the

part of their savage companions.

Watching and toiling in this way through the night, they were exceedingly

fatigued at the return of day. Nothing was to be seen but sea and sky.

Their frail canoes, heaving up and down with the swelling and sinking of

the ocean, seemed scarcely capable of sustaining the broad undulations of

a calm; how would they be able to live amid waves and surges, should the

wind arise? The commanders did all they could to keep up the flagging

spirits of the men. Sometimes they permitted them a respite; at other

times they took the paddles and shared their toils. But labor and fatigue

were soon forgotten in a new source of suffering. During the preceding

sultry day and night, the Indians, parched and fatigued, had drunk up all

the water. They now began to experience the torments of thirst. In

proportion as the day advanced, their thirst increased; the calm, which

favored the navigation of the canoes, rendered this misery the more

intense. There was not a breeze to fan the air, nor counteract the ardent

rays of a tropical sun. Their sufferings were irritated by the prospect

around them--nothing but water, while they were perishing with thirst. At

mid-day their strength failed them, and they could work no longer.

Fortunately, at this time the commanders of the canoes found, or pretended

to find, two small kegs of water, which they had perhaps secretly reserved

for such an extremity. Administering the precious contents from time to

time, in sparing mouthfuls, to their companions, and particularly to the

laboring Indians, they enabled them to resume their toils. They cheered

them with the hopes of soon arriving at a small island called Navasa,

which lay directly in their way, and was only eight leagues from

Hispaniola. Here they would be able to procure water, and might take

repose.

For the rest of the day they continued faintly and wearily laboring

forward, and keeping an anxious look-out for the island. The day passed

away, the sun went down, yet there was no sign of land, not even a cloud

on the horizon that might deceive them into a hope. According to their

calculations, they had certainly come the distance from Jamaica at which

Navasa lay. They began to fear that they had deviated from their course.

If so, they should miss the island entirely, and perish with thirst before

they could reach Hispaniola.

The night closed upon them without any sight of the island. They now

despaired of touching at it, for it was so small and low that, even if

they were to pass near, they would scarcely be able to perceive it in the

dark. One of the Indians sank and died, under the accumulated sufferings

of labor, heat, and raging thirst. His body was thrown into the sea.

Others lay panting and gasping at the bottom of the canoes. Their

companions, troubled in spirit, and exhausted in strength, feebly

continued their toils. Sometimes they endeavored to cool their parched

palates by taking sea-water in their mouths, but its briny acrimony rather

increased their thirst. Now and then, but very sparingly, they were

allowed a drop of water from the kegs; but this was only in cases of the

utmost extremity, and principally to those who were employed in rowing.

The night had far advanced, but those whose turn it was to take repose

were unable to sleep, from the intensity of their thirst; or if they

slept, it was but to be tantalized with dreams of cool fountains and

running brooks, and to awaken in redoubled torment. The last drop of water

had been dealt out to the Indian rowers, but it only served to irritate

their sufferings. They scarce could move their paddles; one after another

gave up, and it seemed impossible they should live to reach Hispaniola.

The commanders, by admirable management, had hitherto kept up this weary

struggle with suffering and despair: they now, too, began to despond.

Diego Mendez sat watching the horizon, which was gradually lighting up

with those faint rays which precede the rising of the moon. As that planet

rose, he perceived it to emerge from behind some dark mass elevated above

the level of the ocean. He immediately gave the animating cry of "land!"

His almost expiring companions were roused by it to new life. It proved to

be the island of Navasa, but so small, and low, and distant, that had it

not been thus revealed by the rising of the moon, they would never have

discovered it. The error in their reckoning with respect to the island had

arisen from miscalculating the rate of sailing of the canoes, and from not

making sufficient allowance for the fatigue of the rowers and the

opposition of the current.

New vigor was now diffused throughout the crews. They exerted themselves

with feverish impatience; by the dawn of day they reached the land, and,

springing on shore, returned thanks to God for such signal deliverance.

The island was a mere mass of rocks half a league in circuit. There was

neither tree, nor shrub, nor herbage, nor stream, nor fountain. Hurrying

about, however, with anxious search, they found to their joy abundance of

rain-water in the hollows of the rocks. Eagerly scooping it up with their

calabashes, they quenched their burning thirst by immoderate draughts. In

vain the more prudent warned the others of their danger. The Spaniards

were in some degree restrained; but the poor Indians, whose toils had

increased the fever of their thirst, gave way to a kind of frantic

indulgence. Several died upon the spot, and others fell dangerously ill.

[195]

Having allayed their thirst, they now looked about in search of food. A

few shell-fish were found along the shore, and Diego Mendez, striking a

light, and gathering drift-wood, they were enabled to boil them, and to

make a delicious banquet. All day they remained reposing in the shade of

the rocks, refreshing themselves after their intolerable sufferings, and

gazing upon Hispaniola, whose mountains rose above the horizon, at eight

leagues distance.

In the cool of the evening they once more embarked, invigorated by repose,

and arrived safely at Cape Tiburon on the following day, the fourth since

their departure from Jamaica. Here they landed on the banks of a beautiful

river, where they were kindly received and treated by the natives. Such

are the particulars, collected from different sources, of this adventurous

and interesting voyage, on the precarious success of which depended the

deliverance of Columbus and his crews. [196] The voyagers remained for two

days among the hospitable natives on the banks of the river to refresh

themselves. Fiesco would have returned to Jamaica, according to promise,

to give assurance to the Admiral and his companions of the safe arrival of

their messenger; but both Spaniards and Indians had suffered so much

during the voyage, that nothing could induce them to encounter the perils

of a return in the canoes.

Parting with his companions, Diego Mendez took six Indians of the island,

and set off resolutely to coast in his canoe one hundred and thirty

leagues to San Domingo. After proceeding for eighty leagues, with infinite

toil, always against the currents, and subject to perils from the native

tribes, he was informed that the governor had departed for Xaragua, fifty

leagues distant. Still undaunted by fatigues and difficulties, he

abandoned his canoe, and proceeded alone and on foot through forests and

over mountains, until he arrived at Xaragua, achieving one of the most

perilous expeditions ever undertaken by a devoted follower for the safety

of his commander.

Ovando received him with great kindness, expressing the utmost concern at

the unfortunate situation of Columbus. He made many promises of sending

immediate relief, but suffered day after day, week after week, and even

month after month to elapse, without carrying his promises into effect. He

was at that time completely engrossed by wars with the natives, and had a

ready plea that there were no ships of sufficient burden at San Domingo.

Had he felt a proper zeal, however, for the safety of a man like Columbus,

it would have been easy, within eight months, to have devised some means,

if not of delivering him from his situation, at least of conveying to him

ample reinforcements and supplies.

The faithful Mendez remained for seven months in Xaragua, detained there

under various pretexts by Ovando, who was unwilling that he should proceed

to San Domingo; partly, as is intimated, from his having some jealousy of

his being employed in secret agency for the admiral, and partly from a

desire to throw impediments in the way of his obtaining the required

relief. At length, by daily importunity, he obtained permission to go to

San Domingo, and await the arrival of certain ships which were expected,

of which he proposed to purchase one on account of the admiral. He

immediately set out on foot a distance of seventy leagues, part of his

toilsome journey lying through forests and among mountains infested by

hostile and exasperated Indians. It was after his departure that Ovando

dispatched the caravel commanded by the pardoned rebel Escobar, on that

singular and equivocal visit, which, in the eyes of Columbus, had the air

of a mere scouting expedition to spy into the camp of an enemy.

Chapter VI.

Overtures of Columbus to the Mutineers.--Battle of the Adelantado with

Porras and His Followers.

[1503.]

When Columbus had soothed the disappointment of his men at the brief and

unsatisfactory visit and sudden departure of Escobar he endeavored to turn

the event to some advantage with the rebels. He knew them to be

disheartened by the inevitable miseries attending a lawless and dissolute

life; that many longed to return to the safe and quiet path of duty; and

that the most malignant, seeing how he had foiled all their intrigues

among the natives to produce a famine, began to fear his ultimate triumph

and consequent vengeance. A favorable opportunity, he thought, now

presented to take advantage of these feelings, and by gentle means to

bring them back to their allegiance. He sent two of his people, therefore,

who were most intimate with the rebels, to inform them of the recent

arrival of Escobar with letters from the Governor of Hispaniola, promising

him a speedy deliverance from the island. He now offered a free pardon,

kind treatment, and a passage with him in the expected ships, on condition

of their immediate return to obedience. To convince them of the arrival of

the vessel, he sent them a part of the bacon which had been brought by

Escobar.

On the approach of these ambassadors, Francisco de Porras came forth to

meet them, accompanied solely by a few of the ringleaders of his party. He

imagined that there might be some propositions from the admiral, and he

was fearful of their being heard by the mass of his people, who, in their

dissatisfied and repentant mood, would be likely to desert him on the

least prospect of pardon. Having listened to the tidings and overtures

brought by the messengers, he and his confidential confederates consulted

for some time together. Perfidious in their own nature, thev suspected the

sincerity of the admiral; and conscious of the extent of their offences,

doubted his having the magnanimity to pardon them. Determined, therefore,

not to confide in his proffered amnesty, they replied to the messengers,

that they had no wish to return to the ships, but preferred living at

large about the island. They offered to engage, however, to conduct

themselves peaceably and amicably, on receiving a solemn promise from the

admiral, that should two vessels arrive, they should have one to depart

in: should but one arrive, that half of it should be granted to them; and

that, moreover, the admiral should share with them the stores and articles

of Indian traffic remaining in the ships, having lost all that they had,

in the sea. These demands were pronounced extravagant and inadmissible,

upon which they replied insolently that, if they were not peaceably

conceded, they would take them by force; and with this menace they

dismissed the ambassadors. [197]

This conference was not conducted so privately, but that the rest of the

rebels learnt the purport of the mission; and the offer of pardon and

deliverance occasioned great tumult and agitation. Porras, fearful of

their desertion, assured them that these offers of the admiral were all

deceitful; that he was naturally cruel and vindictive, and only sought to

get them into his power to wreak on them his vengeance. He exhorted them

to persist in their opposition to his tyranny; reminding them, that those

who had formerly done so in Hispaniola, had eventually triumphed, and sent

him home in irons; he assured them that they might do the same; and again

made vaunting promises of protection in Spain, through the influence of

his relatives. But the boldest of his assertions was with respect to the

caravel of Escobar. It shows the ignorance of the age, and the

superstitious awe which the common people entertained with respect to

Columbus and his astronomical knowledge. Porras assured them that no real

caravel had arrived, but a mere phantasm conjured up by the admiral, who

was deeply versed in necromancy. In proof of this, he adverted to its

arriving in the dusk of the evening; its holding communication 'with no

one but the admiral, and its sudden disappearance in the night. Had it

been a real caravel, the crew would have sought to talk with their

countrymen; the admiral, his son and brother, would have eagerly embarked

on board, and it would at any rate have remained a little while in port,

and not have vanished so suddenly and mysteriously. [198]

By these, and similar delusions, Porras succeeded in working upon the

feelings and credulity of his followers. Fearful, however, that they might

yield to after reflection, and to further offers from the admiral, he

determined to involve them in some act of violence which would commit them

beyond all hopes of forgiveness. He marched them, therefore, to an Indian

village called Maima, [199] about a quarter of a league from the ships,

intending to plunder the stores remaining on board the wreck, and to take

the admiral prisoner. [200]

Columbus had notice of the designs of the rebels, and of their approach.

Being confined by his infirmities, he sent his brother to endeavor with

mild words to persuade them from their purpose, and win them to obedience;

but with sufficient force to resist any violence. The Adelantado, who was

a man rather of deeds than of words, took with him fifty followers, men of

tried resolution, and ready to fight in any cause. They were well armed

and full of courage, though many were pale and debilitated from recent

sickness, and from long confinement to the ships. Arriving on the side of

a hill, within a bow-shot of the village, the Adelantado discovered the

rebels, and dispatched the same two messengers to treat with them, who had

already carried them the offer of pardon. Porras and his fellow-leaders,

however, would not permit them to approach. They confided in the

superiority of their numbers, and in their men being, for the most part,

hardy sailors, rendered robust and vigorous by the roving life they had

been leading in the forests and the open air. They knew that many of those

who were with the Adelantado were men brought up in a softer mode of life.

They pointed to their pale countenances, and persuaded their followers

that they were mere household men, fair-weather troops, who could never

stand before them. They did not reflect that, with such men, pride and

lofty spirit often more than supply the place of bodily force, and they

forgot that their adversaries had the incalculable advantage of justice

and law upon their side. Deluded by their words, their followers were

excited to a transient glow of courage, and, brandishing their weapons,

refused to listen to the messengers.

Six of the stoutest rebels made a league to stand by one another and

attack the Adelantado; for, he being killed, the rest would be easily

defeated. The main body formed themselves into a squadron, drawing their

swords and shaking their lances. They did not wait to be assailed, but,

uttering shouts and menaces, rushed upon the enemy. They were so well

received, however, that at the first shock four or five were killed, most

of them the confederates who had leagued to attack the Adelantado. The

latter, with his own hand, killed Juan Sanchez, the same powerful mariner

who had carried off the cacique Quibian; and Juan Barber also, who had

first drawn a sword against the admiral in this rebellion. The Adelantado

with his usual vigor and courage was dealing his blows about him in the

thickest of the affray, where several lay killed and wounded, when he was

assailed by Francisco de Porras. The rebel with a blow of his sword cleft

the buckler of Don Bartholomew, and wounded the hand which grasped it. The

sword remained wedged in the shield, and before Porras could withdraw it,

the Adelantado closed upon him, grappled him, and, being assisted by

others, after a severe struggle, took him prisoner. [201]

When the rebels beheld their leader a captive, their transient courage was

at an end, and they fled in confusion. The Adelantado would have pursued

them, but was persuaded to let them escape with the punishment they had

received; especially as it was necessary to guard against the possibility

of an attack from the Indians.

The latter had taken arms and drawn up in battle array, gazing with

astonishment at this fight between white men, but without taking part on

either side. When the battle was over, they approached the field, gazing

upon the dead bodies of the beings they had once fancied immortal. They

were curious in examining the wounds made by the Christian weapons. Among

the wounded insurgents was Pedro Ledesma, the same pilot who so bravely

swam ashore at Veragua, to procure tidings of the colony. He was a man of

prodigious muscular force and a hoarse deep voice. As the Indians, who

thought him dead, were inspecting the wounds with which he was literally

covered, he suddenly uttered an ejaculation in his tremendous voice, at

the sound of which the savages fled in dismay. This man, having fallen

into a cleft or ravine, was not discovered by the white men until the

dawning of the following day, having remained all that time without a drop

of water. The number and severity of the wounds he is said to have

received would seem incredible, but they are mentioned by Fernando

Columbus, who was an eye-witness, and by Las Casas, who had the account

from Ledesma himself. For want of proper remedies, his wounds were treated

in the roughest manner, yet, through the aid of a vigorous constitution,

he completely recovered. Las Casas conversed with him several years

afterwards at Seville, when he obtained from him various particulars

concerning this voyage of Columbus. Some few days after this conversation,

however, he heard that Ledesma had fallen under the knife of an assassin.

[202]

The Adelantado returned in triumph to the ships, where he was received by

the admiral in the most affectionate manner; thanking him as his

deliverer. He brought Porras and several of his followers prisoners. Of

his own party only two had been wounded; himself in the hand, and the

admiral's steward, who had received an apparently slight wound with a

lance, equal to one of the most insignificant of those with which Ledesma

was covered; yet, in spite of careful treatment, he died.

On the next day, the 20th of May, the fugitives sent a petition to the

admiral, signed with all their names, in which, says Las Casas, they

confessed all their misdeeds, and cruelties, and evil intentions,

supplicating the admiral to have pity on them and pardon them for their

rebellion, for which God had already punished them. They offered to return

to their obedience and to serve him faithfully in future, making an oath

to that effect upon a cross and a missal, accompanied by an imprecation

worthy of being recorded: "They hoped, should they break their oath, that

no priest nor other Christian might ever confess them; that repentance

might be of no avail; that they might be deprived of the holy sacraments

of the church; that at their death they might receive no benefit from

bulls nor indulgences; that their bodies might be cast out into the fields

like those of heretics and renegadoes, instead of being buried in holy

ground; and that they might not receive absolution from the pope, nor from

cardinals, nor archbishops, nor bishops, nor any other Christian priests."

[203] Such were the awful imprecations by which these men endeavored to

add validity to an oath. The worthlessness of a man's word may always be

known by the extravagant means he uses to enforce it.

The admiral saw, by the abject nature of this petition, how completely the

spirit of these misguided men was broken; with his wonted magnanimity, he

readily granted their prayer, and pardoned their offences; but on one

condition, that their ringleader, Francisco Porras, should remain a

prisoner.

As it was difficult to maintain so many persons on board of the ships, and

as quarrels might take place between persons who had so recently been at

blows, Columbus put the late followers of Porras under the command of a

discreet and faithful man; and giving in his charge a quantity of European

articles for the purpose of purchasing food of the natives, directed him

to forage about the island until the expected vessels should arrive.

At length, after a long year of alternate hope and despondency, the doubts

of the Spaniards were joyfully dispelled by the sight of two vessels

standing into the harbor. One proved to be a ship hired and well

victualed, at the expense of the admiral, by the faithful and

indefatigable Diego Mendez; the other had been subsequently fitted out by

Ovando, and put under the command of Diego de Salcedo, the admiral's agent

employed to collect his rents in San Domingo.

The long neglect of Ovando to attend to the relief of Columbus had, it

seems, roused the public indignation, insomuch that animadversions had

been made upon his conduct even in the pulpits. This is affirmed by Las

Casas, who was at San Domingo at the time. If the governor had really

entertained hopes that, during the delay of relief, Columbus might perish

in the island, the report brought back by Escobar must have completely

disappointed him. No time was to be lost if he wished to claim any merit

in his deliverance, or to avoid the disgrace of having totally neglected

him. He exerted himself, therefore, at the eleventh hour, and dispatched a

caravel at the same time with the ship sent by Diego Mendez. The latter,

having faithfully discharged this part of his mission, and seen the ships

depart, proceeded to Spain on the further concerns of the admiral. [204]

Book XVII.

Chapter I.

Administration of Ovando in Hispaniola.--Oppression of the Natives.

[1503.]

Before relating the return of Columbus to Hispaniola, it is proper to

notice some of the principal occurrences which took place in that island

under the government of Ovando. A great crowd of adventurers of various

ranks had thronged his fleet--eager speculators, credulous dreamers, and

broken-down gentlemen of desperate fortunes; all expecting to enrich

themselves suddenly in an island where gold was to be picked up from the

surface of the soil, or gathered from the mountain-brooks. They had

scarcely landed, says Las Casas, who accompanied the expedition, when they

all hurried off to the mines, about eight leagues distant. The roads

swarmed like ant-hills, with adventurers of all classes. Every one had his

knapsack stored with biscuit or flour, and his mining implements on his

shoulders. Those hidalgos, or gentlemen, who had no servants to carry

their burdens, bore them on their own backs, and lucky was he who had a

horse for the journey; he would be able to bring back the greater load of

treasure. They all set out in high spirits, eager who should first reach

the golden land; thinking they had but to arrive at the mines, and collect

riches; "for they fancied," says Las Casas, "that gold was to be gathered

as easily and readily as fruit from the trees." When they arrived,

however, they discovered, to their dismay, that it was necessary to dig

painfully into the bowels of the earth--a labor to which most of them had

never been accustomed; that it required experience and sagacity to detect

the veins of ore; that, in fact, the whole process of mining was

exceedingly toilsome, demanded vast patience and much experience, and,

after all, was full of uncertainty. They digged eagerly for a time, but

found no ore. They grew hungry, threw by their implements, sat down to

eat, and then returned to work. It was all in vain. "Their labor," says

Las Casas, "gave them a keen appetite and quick digestion, but no gold."

They soon consumed their provisions, exhausted their patience, cursed

their infatuation, and in eight days set off drearily on their return

along the roads they had lately trod so exultingly. They arrived at San

Domingo without an ounce of gold, half-famished, downcast, and despairing.

[205] Such is too often the case of those who ignorantly engage in

mining--of all speculations the most brilliant, promising, and fallacious.

Poverty soon fell upon these misguided men. They exhausted the little

property brought from Spain. Many suffered extremely from hunger, and were

obliged to exchange even their apparel for bread. Some formed connections

with the old settlers of the island; but the greater part were like men

lost and bewildered, and just awakened from a dream. The miseries of the

mind, as usual, heightened the sufferings of the body. Some wasted away

and died broken-hearted; others were hurried off by raging fevers, so that

there soon perished upwards of a thousand men.

Ovando was reputed a man of great prudence and sagacity, and he certainly

took several judicious measures for the regulation of the island, and the

relief of the colonists. He made arrangements for distributing the married

persons and the families which had come out in his fleet, in four towns in

the interior, granting them important privileges. He revived the drooping

zeal for mining, by reducing the royal share of the product from one-half

to a third, and shortly after to a fifth; but he empowered the Spaniards

to avail themselves, in the most oppressive manner, of the labor of the

unhappy natives in working the mines. The charge of treating the natives

with severity had been one of those chiefly urged against Columbus. It is

proper, therefore, to notice, in this respect, the conduct of his

successor, a man chosen for his prudence, and his supposed capacity to

govern.

It will be recollected, that when Columbus was in a manner compelled to

assign lands to the rebellious followers of Francisco Roldan, in 1499, he

had made an arrangement that the caciques in their vicinity should, in

lieu of tribute, furnish a number of their subjects to assist them in

cultivating their estates. This, as has been observed, was the

commencement of the disastrous system of repartimientos, or distributions

of Indians. When Bobadilla administered the government, he constrained the

caciques to furnish a certain number of Indians to each Spaniard, for the

purpose of working the mines; where they were employed like beasts of

burden. He made an enumeration of the natives, to prevent evasion; reduced

them into classes, and distributed them among the Spanish inhabitants. The

enormous oppressions which ensued have been noticed. They roused the

indignation of Isabella; and when Ovando was sent out to supersede

Bobadilla, in 1502, the natives were pronounced free; they immediately

refused to labor in the mines.

Ovando represented to the Spanish sovereigns, in 1503, that ruinous

consequences resulted to the colony from this entire liberty granted to

the Indians. He stated that the tribute could not be collected, for the

Indians were lazy and improvident; that they could only be kept from vices

and irregularities by occupation; that they now kept aloof from the

Spaniards, and from all instruction in the Christian faith.

The last representation had an influence with Isabella, and drew a letter

from the sovereigns to Ovando, in 1503, in which he was ordered to spare

no pains to attach the natives to the Spanish nation and the Catholic

religion. To make them labor moderately, if absolutely essential to their

own good; but to temper authority with persuasion and kindness. To pay

them regularly and fairly for their labor, and to have them instructed in

religion on certain days.

Ovando availed himself of the powers given him by this letter, to their

fullest extent. He assigned to each Castilian a certain number of Indians,

according to the quality of the applicant, the nature of the application,

or his own pleasure. It was arranged in the form of an order on a cacique

for a certain number of Indians, who were to be paid by their employer,

and instructed in the Catholic faith. The pay was so small as to be little

better than nominal; the instruction was little more than the mere

ceremony of baptism; and the term of labor was at first six months, and

then eight months in the year. Under cover of this hired labor, intended

for the good both of their bodies and their souls, more intolerable toil

was exacted from them, and more horrible cruelties were inflicted, than in

the worst days of Bobadilla. They were separated often the distance of

several days' journey from their wives and children, and doomed to

intolerable labor of all kinds, extorted by the cruel infliction of the

lash. For food they had the cassava bread, an unsubstantial support for

men obliged to labor; sometimes a scanty portion of pork was distributed

among a great number of them, scarce a mouthful to each. When the

Spaniards who superintended the mines were at their repast, says Las

Casas, the famished Indians scrambled under the table, like dogs, for any

bone thrown to them. After they had gnawed and sucked it, they pounded it

between stones and mixed it with their cassava bread, that nothing of so

precious a morsel might be lost. As to those who labored in the fields,

they never tasted either flesh or fish; a little cassava bread and a few

roots were their support. While the Spaniards thus withheld the

nourishment necessary to sustain their health and strength, they exacted a

degree of labor sufficient to break down the most vigorous man. If the

Indians fled from this incessant toil and barbarous coercion, and took

refuge in the mountains, they were hunted out like wild beasts, scourged

in the most inhuman manner, and laden with chains to prevent a second

escape. Many perished long before their term of labor had expired. Those

who survived their term of six or eight months, were permitted to return

to their homes, until the next term commenced. But their homes were often

forty, sixty, and eighty leagues distant. They had nothing to sustain them

through the journey but a few roots or agi peppers, or a little cassava

bread. Worn down by long toil and cruel hardships, which their feeble

constitutions were incapable of sustaining, many had not strength to

perform the journey, but sank down and died by the way; some by the side

of a brook, others under the shade of a tree, where they had crawled for

shelter from the sun. "I have found many dead in the road," says Las

Casas, "others gasping under the trees, and others in the pangs of death,

faintly crying, Hunger! hunger!" [206] Those who reached their homes most

commonly found them desolate. During the eight months they had been

absent, their wives and children had either perished or wandered away;

the fields on which they depended for food were overrun with weeds, and

nothing was left them but to lie down, exhausted and despairing, and die

at the threshold of their habitations. [207]

It is impossible to pursue any further the picture drawn by the venerable

Las Casas, not of what he had heard, but of what he had seen; nature and

humanity revolt at the details. Suffice it to say that, so intolerable

were the toils and sufferings inflicted upon this weak and unoffending

race, that they sank under them, dissolving, as it were, from the face of

the earth. Many killed themselves in despair, and even mothers overcame

the powerful instinct of nature, and destroyed the infants at their

breasts, to spare them a life of wretchedness. Twelve years had not

elapsed since the discovery of the island, and several hundred thousand of

its native inhabitants had perished, miserable victims to the grasping

avarice of the white men.

Chapter II.

Massacre at Xaragua.--Fate of Anacaona.

[1503.]

The sufferings of the natives under the civil policy of Ovando have been

briefly shown; it remains to give a concise view of the military

operations of this commander, so lauded by certain of the early historians

for his prudence. By this notice a portion of the eventful history of this

island will be recounted which is connected with the fortunes of Columbus,

and which comprises the thorough subjugation, and, it may also be said,

extermination of the native inhabitants. And first, we must treat of the

disasters of the beautiful province of Xaragua, the seat of hospitality,

the refuge of the suffering Spaniards; and of the fate of the female

cacique, Anacaona, once the pride of the island, and the generous friend

of white men.

Behechio, the ancient cacique of this province, being dead, Anacaona, his

sister, had succeeded to the government. The marked partiality which she

once manifested for the Spaniards had been greatly weakened by the general

misery they had produced in her country; and by the brutal profligacy

exhibited in her immediate dominions by the followers of Roldan. The

unhappy story of the loves of her beautiful daughter Higuenamota, with the

young Spaniard Hernando de Guevara, had also caused her great affliction;

and, finally, the various and enduring hardships inflicted on her once

happy subjects by the grinding systems of labor enforced by Bobadilla and

Ovando, had at length, it is said, converted her friendship into absolute

detestation.

This disgust was kept alive and aggravated by the Spaniards who lived in

her immediate neighborhood, and had obtained grants of land there; a

remnant of the rebel faction of Roldan, who retained the gross

licentiousness and open profligacy in which they had been indulged under

the loose misrule of that commander, and who made themselves odious to the

inferior caciques, by exacting services tyrannically and capriciously

under the baneful system of repartimientos.

The Indians of this province were uniformly represented as a more

intelligent, polite, and generous-spirited race than any others of the

islands. They were the more prone to feel and resent the overbearing

treatment to which they were subjected. Quarrels sometimes took place

between the caciques and their oppressors. These were immediately reported

to the governor as dangerous mutinies; and a resistance to any capricious

and extortionate exaction was magnified into a rebellious resistance to

the authority of government. Complaints of this kind were continually

pouring in upon Ovando, until he was persuaded by some alarmist, or some

designing mischief-maker, that there was a deep-laid conspiracy among the

Indians of this province to rise upon the Spaniards.

Ovando immediately set out for Xaragua at the head of three hundred

foot-soldiers, armed with swords, arquebuses, and cross-bows, and seventy

horsemen, with cuirasses, bucklers, and lances. He pretended that he was

going on a mere visit of friendship to Anacaona, and to make arrangements

about the payment of tribute.

When Anacaona heard of the intended visit, she summoned all her tributary

caciques, and principal subjects, to assemble at her chief town, that they

might receive the commander of the Spaniards with becoming homage and

distinction. As Ovando, at the head of his little army, approached, she

went forth to meet him, according to the custom of her nation, attended by

a great train of her most distinguished subjects, male and female; who, as

has been before observed, were noted for superior grace and beauty. They

received the Spaniards with their popular areytos, their national songs;

the young women waving palm branches and dancing before them, in the way

that had so much charmed the followers of the Adelantado, on his first

visit to the province.

Anacaona treated the governor with that natural graciousness and dignity

for which she was celebrated. She gave him the largest house in the place

for his residence, and his people were quartered in the houses adjoining.

For several days the Spaniards were entertained with all the natural

luxuries that the province aiforded. National songs and dances and games

were performed for their amusement, and there was every outward

demonstration of the same hospitality, the same amity, that Anacaona had

uniformly shown to white men.

Notwithstanding all this kindness, and notwithstanding her uniform

integrity of conduct, and open generosity of character, Ovando was

persuaded that Anacaoua was secretly meditating a massacre of himself and

his followers. Historians tell us nothing of the grounds for such a

belief. It was too probably produced by the misrepresentations of the

unprincipled adventurers who infested the province. Ovando should have

paused and reflected before he acted upon it. He should have considered

the improbability of such an attempt by naked Indians against so large a

force of steel-clad troops, armed with European weapons: and he should

have reflected upon the general character and conduct of Anacaona. At any

rate, the example set repeatedly by Columbus and his brother the

Adelantado, should have convinced him that it was a sufficient safeguard

against the machinations of the natives, to seize upon their caciques and

detain them as hostages. The policy of Ovando, however, was of a more rash

and sanguinary nature; he acted upon suspicion as upon conviction. He

determined to anticipate the alleged plot by a counter-artifice, and to

overwhelm this defenceless people in an indiscriminate and bloody

vengeance.

As the Indians had entertained their guests with various national games,

Ovando invited them in return to witness certain games of his country.

Among these was a tilting match or joust with reeds; a chivalrous game

which the Spaniards had learnt from the Moors of Granada. The Spanish

cavalry, in those days, were as remarkable for the skillful management, as

for the ostentatious caparison of their horses. Among the troops brought

out from Spain by Ovando, one horseman had disciplined his horse to prance

and curvet in time to the music of a viol. [208] The joust was appointed

to take place of a Sunday after dinner, in the public square, before the

house where Ovando was quartered. The cavalry and foot-soldiers had their

secret instructions. The former were to parade, not merely with reeds or

blunted tilting lances, but with weapons of a more deadly character. The

foot-soldiers were to come apparently as mere spectators, but likewise

armed and ready for action at a concerted signal.

At the appointed time the square was crowded with the Indians, waiting to

see this military spectacle. The caciques were assembled in the house of

Ovando, which looked upon the square. None were armed; an unreserved

confidence prevailed among them, totally incompatible with the dark

treachery of which they were accused. To prevent all suspicion, and take

off all appearance of sinister design, Ovando, after dinner, was playing

at quoits with some of his principal officers, when the cavalry having

arrived in the square, the caciques begged the governor to order the joust

to commence. [209] Anacaona, and her beautiful daughter Higuenamota, with

several of her female attendants, were present and joined in the request.

Ovando left his game and came forward to a conspicuous place. When he saw

that every thing was disposed according to his orders, he gave the fatal

signal. Some say it was by taking hold of a piece of gold which was

suspended about his neck; [210] others by laying his hand on the cross of

Alcantara, which was embroidered on his habit. [211] A trumpet was

immediately sounded. The house in which Anacaona and all the principal

caciques were assembled was surrounded by soldiery, commanded by Diego

Velasquez and Rodrigo Mexiatrillo, and no one was permitted to escape.

They entered, and seizing upon the caciques, bound them to the posts which

supported the roof. Anacaona was led forth a prisoner. The unhappy

caciques were then put to horrible tortures, until some of them, in the

extremity of anguish, were made to accuse their queen and themselves of

the plot with which they were charged. When this cruel mockery of

judicial form had been executed, instead of preserving them for

after-examination, fire was set to the house, and all the caciques

perished miserably in the flames.

While these barbarities were practised upon the chieftains, a horrible

massacre took place among the populace. At the signal of Ovando, the

horsemen rushed into the midst of the naked and defenceless throng,

trampling them under the hoofs of their steeds, cutting them down with

their swords, and transfixing them with their spears. No mercy was shown

to age or sex; it was a savage and indiscriminate butchery. Now and then a

Spanish horseman, either through an emotion of pity, or an impulse of

avarice, caught up a child, to bear it off in safety; but it was

barbarously pierced by the lances of his companions. Humanity turns with

horror from such atrocities, and would fain discredit them; but they are

circumstantially and still more minutely recorded by the venerable bishop

Las Casas, who was resident in the island at the time, and conversant with

the principal actors in this tragedy. He may have colored the picture

strongly, in his usual indignation when the wrongs of the Indians are in

question; yet, from all concurring accounts, and from many precise facts

which speak for themselves, the scene must have been most sanguinary and

atrocious. Oviedo, who is loud in extolling the justice, and devotion, and

charity, and meekness of Ovando, and his kind treatment of the Indians;

and who visited the province of Xaragua a few years afterwards, records

several of the preceding circumstances; especially the cold-blooded game

of quoits played by the governor on the verge of such a horrible scene,

and the burning of the caciques, to the number, he says, of more than

forty. Diego Mendez, who was at Xaragua at the time, and doubtless present

on such an important occasion, says incidentally, in his last will and

testament, that there were eighty-four caciques either burnt or hanged.

[212] Las Casas says, that there were eighty who entered the house with

Anacaona. The slaughter of the multitude must have been great; and this

was inflicted on an unarmed and unresisting throng. Several who escaped

from the massacre fled in their canoes to an island about eight leagues

distant, called Guanabo. They were pursued and taken, and condemned to

slavery.

As to the princess Anacaona, she was carried in chains to San Domingo. The

mockery of a trial was given her, in which she was found guilty on the

confessions wrung by tortures from her subjects, and on the testimony of

their butchers; and she was ignominiously hanged in the presence of the

people whom she had so long and so signally befriended. [213] Oviedo has

sought to throw a stigma on the character of this unfortunate princess,

accusing her of great licentiousness; but he was prone to criminate the

character of the native princes, who fell victims to the ingratitude and

injustice of his countrymen. Contemporary writers of greater authority

have concurred in representing Anacaona as remarkable for her native

propriety and dignity. She was adored by her subjects, so as to hold a

kind of dominion over them even during the lifetime of her brother; she

is said to have been skilled in composing the areytos, or legendary

ballads of her nation, and may have conduced much towards producing that

superior degree of refinement remarked among her people. Her grace and

beauty had made her renowned throughout the island, and had excited the

admiration both of the savage and the Spaniard. Her magnanimous spirit

was evinced in her amicable treatment of the white men, although her

husband, the brave Caonabo, had perished a prisoner in their hands; and

defenceless parties of them had been repeatedly in her power, and lived

at large in her dominions. After having, for several years, neglected

all safe opportunities of vengeance, she fell a victim to the absurd

charge of having conspired against an armed body of nearly four hundred

men, seventy of them horsemen; a force sufficient to have subjugated

large armies of naked Indians.

After the massacre of Xaragua, the destruction of its inhabitants still

continued. The favorite nephew of Anacaona, the cacique Guaora, who had

fled to the mountains, was hunted like a wild beast, until he was taken,

and likewise hanged. For six months the Spaniards continued ravaging the

country with horse and foot, under pretext of quelling insurrections; for,

wherever the affrighted natives took refuge in their despair, herding in

dismal caverns and in the fastnesses of the mountains, they were

represented as assembling in arms to make a head of rebellion. Having at

length hunted them out of their retreats, destroyed many, and reduced the

survivors to the most deplorable misery and abject submission, the whole

of that part of the island was considered as restored to good order; and

in commemoration of this great triumph, Ovando founded a town near to the

lake, which he called Santa Maria de la Verdadera Paz (St. Mary of the

True Peace). [214]

Such is the tragical history of the delightful region of Xaragua, and of

its amiable and hospitable people. A place which the Europeans, by their

own account, found a perfect paradise, but which, by their vile passions,

they filled with horror and desolation.

Chapter III.

War with the Natives of Higuey.

[1504.]

The subjugation of four of the Indian sovereignties of Hispaniola, and the

disastrous fate of their caciques, have been already related. Under the

administration of Ovando, was also accomplished the downfall of Higuey,

the last of those independent districts; a fertile province which

comprised the eastern extremity of the island.

The people of Higuey were of a more warlike spirit than those of the other

provinces, having learned the effectual use of their weapons, from

frequent contests with their Carib invaders. They were governed by a

cacique named Cotabanama. Las Casas describes this chieftain from actual

observation, and draws the picture of a native hero. He was, he says, the

strongest of his tribe, and more perfectly formed than one man in a

thousand of any nation whatever. He was taller in stature than the tallest

of his countrymen, a yard in breadth from shoulder to shoulder, and the

rest of his body in admirable proportion. His aspect was not handsome, but

grave and courageous. His bow was not easily bent by a common man; his

arrows were three-pronged, tipped with the bones of fishes, and his

weapons appeared to be intended for a giant. In a word, he was so nobly

proportioned, as to be the admiration even of the Spaniards.

While Cloumbus was engaged in his fourth voyage, and shortly after the

accession of Ovando to office, there was an insurrection of this cacique

and his people. A shallop, with eight Spaniards, was surprised at the

small island of Saona, adjacent to Higuey, and all the crew slaughtered.

This was in revenge for the death of a cacique, torn to pieces by a dog

wantonly set upon him by a Spaniard, and for which the natives had in vain

sued for redress.

Ovando immediately dispatched Juan de Esquibel, a courageous officer, at

the head of four hundred men, to quell the insurrection, and punish the

massacre. Cotabanama assembled his warriors, and prepared for vigorous

resistance. Distrustful of the mercy of the Spaniards, the chieftain

rejected all overtures of peace, and the war was prosecuted with some

advantage to the natives. The Indians had now overcome their superstitious

awe of the white men as supernatural beings, and though they could ill

withstand the superiority of European arms, they manifested a courage and

dexterity that rendered them enemies not to be despised. Las Casas and

other historians relate a bold and romantic encounter between a single

Indian and two mounted cavaliers named Valtenebro and Portevedra, in which

the Indian, though pierced through the body by the lances and swords of

both his assailants, retained his fierceness, and continued the combat,

until he fell dead in the possession of all their weapons. [215] This

gallant action, says Las Casas, was public and notorious.

The Indians were soon defeated and driven to their mountain retreats. The

Spaniards pursued them into their recesses, discovered their wives and

children, wreaked on them the most indiscriminate slaughter, and committed

their chieftains to the flames. An aged female cacique of great

distinction, named Higuanama, being taken prisoner, was hanged.

A detachment was sent in a caravel to the island of Saona, to take

particular vengeance for the destruction of the shallop and its crew. The

natives made a desperate defence and fled. The island was mountainous, and

full of caverns, in which the Indians vainly sought for refuge. Six or

seven hundred were imprisoned in a dwelling, and all put to the sword or

poniarded. Those of the inhabitants who were spared were carried off as

slaves; and the island was left desolate and deserted.

The natives of Higuey were driven to despair, seeing that there was no

escape for them even in the bowels of the earth: [216] they sued for

peace, which was granted them, and protection promised on condition of

their cultivating a large tract of land, and paying a great quantity of

bread in tribute. The peace being concluded, Cotabanama visited the

Spanish camp, where his gigantic proportions and martial demeanor made

him an object of curiosity and admiration. He was received with great

distinction by Esquibel, and they exchanged names; an Indian league of

fraternity and perpetual friendship. The natives thenceforward called the

cacique Juan de Esquibel, and the Spanish commander Cotabanama. Esquibel

then built a wooden fortress in an Indian village near the sea, and left

in it nine men, with a captain named Martin de Villaman. After this, the

troops dispersed, every man returning home, with his proportion of slaves

gained in this expedition.

The pacification was not of long continuance, About the time that succors

were sent to Columbus, to rescue him from the wrecks of his vessels at

Jamaica, a new revolt broke out in Higuey, in consequence of the

oppressions of the Spaniards, and a violation of the treaty made by

Esquibel. Martin de Villaman demanded that the natives should not only

raise the grain stipulated for by the treaty, but convey it to San

Domingo, and he treated them with the greatest severity on their refusal.

He connived also at the licentious conduct of his men towards the Indian

women; the Spaniards often taking from the natives their daughters and

sisters, and even their wives. [217] The Indians, roused at last to fury,

rose on their tyrants, slaughtered them, and burnt their wooden fortress

to the ground. Only one of the Spaniards escaped, and bore the tidings

of this catastrophe to the city of San Domingo.

Ovando gave immediate orders to carry fire and sword into the province of

Higuey. The Spanish troops mustered from various quarters on the confines

of that province, when Juan de Esquibel took the command, and had a great

number of Indians with him as allies. The towns of Higuey were generally

built among the mountains. Those mountains rose in terraces, from ten to

fifteeen leagues in length and breadth; rough and rocky, interspersed with

glens of a red soil, remarkably fertile, where they raised their cassava

bread. The ascent from terrace to terrace was about fifty feet; steep and

precipitous, formed of the living rock, and resembling a wall wrought with

tools into rough diamond points. Each village had four wide streets, a

stone's throw in length, forming a cross, the trees being cleared away

from them, and from a public square in the centre.

When the Spanish troops arrived on the frontiers, alarm-fires along the

mountains and columns of smoke spread the intelligence by night and day.

The old men, the women, and children, were sent off to the forests and

caverns, and the warriors prepared for battle. The Castilians paused in

one of the plains clear of forests, where their horses could be of use.

They made prisoners of several of the natives, and tried to learn from

them the plans and forces of the enemy. They applied tortures for the

purpose, but in vain, so devoted was the loyalty of these people to their

caciques. The Spaniards penetrated into the interior. They found the

warriors of several towns assembled in one, and drawn up in the streets

with their bows and arrows, but perfectly naked, and without defensive

armor. They uttered tremendous yells, and discharged a shower of arrows;

but from such a distance, that they fell short of their foe. The Spaniards

replied with their cross-bows, and with two or three arquebuses, for at

this time they had but few firearms. When the Indians saw several of their

comrades fall dead, they took to flight, rarely waiting for the attack

with swords: some of the wounded, in whose bodies the arrows from the

cross-bows had penetrated to the very feather, drew them out with their

hands, broke them with their teeth, and hurling them at the Spaniards with

impotent fury, fell dead upon the spot.

The whole force of the Indians was routed and dispersed, each family, or

band of neighbors, fled in its own direction, and concealed itself in the

fastness of the mountains. The Spaniards pursued them, but found the chase

difficult amidst the close forests, and the broken and stony heights. They

took several prisoners as guides, and inflicted incredible torments on

them, to compel them to betray their countrymen. They drove them before

them, secured by cords fastened round their necks; and some of them, as

they passed along the brinks of precipices, suddenly threw themselves

headlong down, in hopes of dragging after them the Spaniards. When at

length the pursuers came upon the unhappy Indians in their concealments,

they spared neither age nor sex; even pregnant women, and mothers with

infants in their arms, fell beneath their merciless swords. The

cold-blooded acts of cruelty which followed this first slaughter would be

shocking to relate.

Hence Esquibel marched to attack the town where Cotabanama resided, and

where that cacique had collected a great force to resist him. He proceeded

direct for the place along the sea-coast, and came to where two roads led

up the mountain to the town. One of the roads was open and inviting; the

branches of the trees being lopped, and all the underwood cleared away.

Here the Indians had stationed an ambuscade to take the Spaniards in the

rear. The other road was almost closed up by trees and bushes cut down and

thrown across each other. Esquibel was wary and distrustful; he suspected

the stratagem, and chose the encumbered road. The town was about a league

and a half from the sea. The Spaniards made their way with great

difficulty for the first half league. The rest of the road was free from

all embarrassment, which confirmed their suspicion of a stratagem. They

now advanced with great rapidity, and, having arrived near the village,

suddenly turned into the other road, took the party in ambush by surprise,

and made great havoc among them with their cross-bows.

The warriors now sallied from their concealment, others rushed out of the

houses into the streets, and discharged flights of arrows, but from such a

distance as generally to fall harmless. They then approached nearer, and

hurled stones with their hands, being unacquainted with the use of slings.

Instead of being dismayed at seeing their companions fall, it rather

increased their fury. An irregular battle, probably little else than wild

skirmishing and bush-fighting, was kept up from two o'clock in the

afternoon until night. Las Casas was present on the occasion, and, from

his account, the Indians must have shown instances of great personal

bravery, though the inferiority of their weapons, and the want of all

defensive armor, rendered their valor totally ineffectual. As the evening

shut in, their hostilities gradually ceased, and they disappeared in the

profound gloom and close thickets of the surrounding forest. A deep

silence succeeded to their yells and war-whoops, and throughout the night

the Spaniards remained in undisturbed possession of the village.

Chapter IV.

Close of the War with Higuey.--Fate of Cotabanama.

[1504.]

On the morning after the battle, not an Indian was to be seen. Finding

that even their great chief, Cotabanama, was incapable of vying with the

prowess of the white men, they had given up the contest in despair, and

fled to the mountains. The Spaniards, separating into small parties,

hunted them with the utmost diligence; their object was to seize the

caciques, and, above all, Cotabanama. They explored all the glens and

concealed paths leading into the wild recesses where the fugitives had

taken refuge. The Indians were cautious and stealthy in their mode of

retreating, treading in each other's foot-prints, so that twenty would

make no more track than one, and stepping so lightly as scarce to disturb

the herbage; yet there were Spaniards so skilled in hunting Indians, that

they could trace them even by the turn of a withered leaf, and among the

confused tracks of a thousand animals.

They could scent afar off, also, the smoke of the fires which the Indians

made whenever they halted, and thus they would come upon them in their

most secret haunts. Sometimes they would hunt down a straggling Indian,

and compel him, by torments, to betray the hiding-place of his companions,

binding him and driving him before them as a guide. Wherever they

discovered one of these places of refuge, filled with the aged and the

infirm, with feeble women and helpless children, they massacred them

without mercy. They wished to inspire terror throughout the land, and to

frighten the whole tribe into submission. They cut off the hands of those

whom they took roving at large, and sent them, as they said, to deliver

them as letters to their friends, demanding their surrender. Numberless

were those, says Las Casas, whose hands were amputated in this manner, and

many of them sank down and died by the way, through anguish and loss of

blood.

The conquerors delighted in exercising strange and ingenious cruelties.

They mingled horrible levity with their blood-thirstiness. They erected

gibbets long and low, so that the feet of the sufferers might reach the

ground, and their death be lingering. They hanged thirteen together, in

reverence, says the indignant Las Casas, of our blessed Saviour and the

twelve apostles. While their victims were suspended, and still living,

they hacked them with their swords, to prove the strength of their arms

and the edge of their weapons. They wrapped them in dry straw, and setting

fire to it, terminated their existence by the fiercest agony.

These are horrible details, yet a veil is drawn over others still more

detestable. They are related circumstantially by Las Casas, who was an

eye-witness. He was young at the time, but records them in his advanced

years. "All these things," says the venerable Bishop, "and others

revolting to human nature, did my own eyes behold; and now I almost fear

to repeat them, scarce believing myself, or whether I have not dreamt

them." [218]

These details would have been withheld from the present work as

disgraceful to human nature, and from an unwillingness to advance any

thing which might convey a stigma upon a brave and generous nation. But it

would be a departure from historical veracity, having the documents before

my eyes, to pass silently over transactions so atrocious, and vouched for

by witnesses beyond all suspicion of falsehood. Such occurrences show the

extremity to which human cruelty may extend, when stimulated by avidity of

gain; by a thirst of vengeance; or even by a perverted zeal in the holy

cause of religion. Every nation has in turn furnished proofs of this

disgraceful truth. As in the present instance, they are commonly the

crimes of individuals rather than of the nation. Yet it behooves

governments to keep a vigilant eye upon those to whom they delegate power

in remote and helpless colonies. It is the imperious duty of the historian

to place these matters upon record, that they may serve as warning beacons

to future generations.

Juan de Esquibel found that, with all his severities, it would be

impossible to subjugate the tribe of Higuey, as long as the cacique

Cotabanama was at large. That chieftain had retired to the little island

of Saona, about two leagues from the coast of Higuey, in the centre of

which, amidst a labyrinth of rocks and forests, he had taken shelter with

his wife and children in a vast cavern.

A caravel, recently arrived from the city of San Domingo with supplies for

the camp, was employed by Esquibel to entrap the cacique. He knew that the

latter kept a vigilant look-out, stationing scouts upon the lofty rocks of

his island to watch the movements of the caravel. Esquibel departed by

night, therefore, in the vessel, with fifty followers, and keeping under

the deep shadows cast by the land, arrived at Saona unperceived, at the

dawn of morning. Here he anchored close in with the shore, hid by its

cliffs and forests, and landed forty men, before the spies of Cotabanama

had taken their station. Two of these were surprised and brought to

Esquibel, who, having learnt from them that the cacique was at hand,

poniarded one of the spies, and bound the other, making him serve as

guide.

A number of Spaniards ran in advance, each anxious to signalize himself by

the capture of the cacique. They came to two roads, and the whole party

pursued that to the right, excepting one Juan Lopez, a powerful man,

skillful in Indian warfare. He proceeded in a footpath to the left,

winding among little hills, so thickly wooded that it was impossible to

see any one at the distance of half a bow-shot. Suddenly, in a narrow

pass, overshadowed by rocks and trees, he encountered twelve Indian

warriors, armed with bows and arrows, and following each other in single

file according to their custom. The Indians were confounded at the sight

of Lopez, imagining that there must be a party of soldiers behind him.

They might readily have transfixed him with their arrows, but they had

lost all presence of mind. He demanded their chieftain. They replied that

he was behind, and, opening to let him pass, Lopez beheld the cacique in

the rear. At sight of the Spaniard, Cotabanama bent his gigantic bow, and

was on the point of launching one of his three-pronged arrows, but Lopez

rushed upon him and wounded him with his sword. The other Indians, struck

with panic, had already fled. Cotabanama, dismayed at the keenness of the

sword, cried out that he was Juan de Esquibel, claiming respect as having

exchanged names with the Spanish commander. Lopez seized him with one hand

by the hair, and with the other aimed a thrust at his body; but the

cacique struck down the sword with his hand, and, grappling with his

antagonist, threw him with his back upon the rocks. As they were both men

of great power, the struggle was long and violent. The sword was beneath

them, but Cotabanama, seizing the Spaniard by the throat with his mighty

hand, attempted to strangle him. The sound of the contest brought the

other Spaniards to the spot. They found their companion writhing and

gasping, and almost dead, in the gripe of the gigantic Indian. They seized

the cacique, bound him, and carried him captive to a deserted Indian

village in the vicinity. They found the way to his secret cave, but his

wife and children, having received notice of his capture by the fugitive

Indians, had taken refuge in another part of the island. In the cavern was

found the chain with which a number of Indian captives had been bound, who

had risen upon and slain three Spaniards who had them in charge, and had

made their escape to this island. There were also the swords of the same

Spaniards, which they had brought off as trophies to their cacique. The

chain was now employed to manacle Cotabanama.

The Spaniards prepared to execute the chieftain on the spot, in the centre

of the deserted village. For this purpose a pyre was built of logs of wood

laid crossways, in form of a gridiron, on which he was to be slowly

broiled to death. On further consultation, however, they were induced to

forego the pleasure of this horrible sacrifice. Perhaps they thought the

cacique too important a personage to be executed thus obscurely. Granting

him, therefore, a transient reprieve, they conveyed him to the caravel,

and sent him, bound with heavy chains, to San Domingo. Ovando saw him in

his power, and incapable of doing further harm; but he had not the

magnanimity to forgive a fallen enemy, whose only crime was the defence of

his native soil and lawful territority. He ordered him to be publicly

hanged like a common culprit. [219] In this ignominious manner was the

cacique Cotabanama executed, the last of the five sovereign princes of

Hayti. His death was followed by the complete subjugation of his people,

and sealed the last struggle of the natives against their oppressors. The

island was almost unpeopled of its original inhabitants, and meek and

mournful submission and mute despair settled upon the scanty remnant that

survived.

Such was the ruthless system which had been pursued, during the absence of

the admiral, by the commander Ovando; this man of boasted prudence and

moderation, who was sent to reform the abuses of the island, and above

all, to redress the wrongs of the natives. The system of Columbus may have

borne hard upon the Indians, born and brought up in untasked freedom, but

it was never cruel nor sanguinary. He inflicted no wanton massacres nor

vindictive punishments; his desire was to cherish and civilize the

Indians, and to render them useful subjects; not to oppress, and

persecute, and destroy them. When he beheld the desolation that had swept

them from the land during his suspension from authority, he could not

restrain the strong expression of his feelings. In a letter written to the

king after his return to Spain, he thus expresses himself on the subject:

"The Indians of Hispaniola were and are the riches of the island; for it

is they who cultivate and make the bread and the provisions for the

Christians; who dig the gold from the mines, and perform all the offices

and labors both of men and beasts. I am informed that, since I left this

island, six parts out of seven of the natives are dead; all through ill

treatment and inhumanity; some by the sword, others by blows and cruel

usage, others through hunger. The greater part have perished in the

mountains and glens, whither they had fled, from not being able to support

the labor imposed upon them." For his own part, he added, although he had

sent many Indians to Spain to be sold, it was always with a view to their

being instructed in the Christian faith, and in civilized arts and usages,

and afterwards sent back to their island to assist in civilizing their

countrymen. [220]

The brief view that has been given of the policy of Ovando, on certain

points on which Columbus was censured, may enable the reader to judge more

correctly of the conduct of the latter. It is not to be measured by the

standard of right and wrong established in the present more enlightened

age. We must consider him in connection with the era in which he lived. By

comparing his measures with those men of his own times praised for their

virtues and abilities, placed in precisely his own situation, and placed

there expressly to correct his faults, we shall be the better able to

judge how virtuously and wisely, under the peculiar circumstances of the

case, he may be considered to have governed.

Book XVIII.

Chapter I.