THE butio of this town had been absent for some reason in the great wood
those days of the shipwreck and the building of La Navidad. Now he was
again here, and I consorted with him and chiefly from him learned their
language. The Admiral had taken Diego Colon to Spain, and to Spain was
gone too Luis Torres, swearing that he would come again. To Spain was
gone Sancho, but Beltran the cook stayed with us. Pedro and Fernando
also.
Time passed. With the ending of January the heat increased. The butio
knew all manner of simples; he was doctor and priest together. He had
a very simple magic. He himself did not expect it to reach the Great
Spirit, but it might affect the innumerable _zemes_ or under and
under-under spirits. These barbarians, using other words for them, had
letter-notion of gnome, sylph, undine and salamander. All things lived
and took offense or became propitious. Effort consisted in making them
propitious. If the effort was too great one of them killed you. Then
you went to the shadowy caves. There was a paradise, too, beautiful and
easy. But the Great Spirit could not be hurt and had no wish to hurt any
one else, whether _zemes_ or men. To live with the Great Spirit, that
was really the Heron wish, though the little herons could not always see
it.
This butio--Guarin his name--was a young man with eyes that could burn
and voice that fell naturally into a chant. He took me into the forest
with him to look for a very rare tree. When it was found I watched him
gather plants from beneath it and scrape bits off its bark into a small
calabash. I understood that it was good for fever, and later I borrowed
from him and found that he had grounds for what he said.
La Navidad and Guarico neighbored each other. The Indians came freely to
the fort, but Diego de Arana made a good _alcayde_ and he would not
have mere crowding within our wooden wall. Half of our thirty-eight,
permitted at a time to wander, could not crowd Guarico. But in himself
each Spaniard seemed a giant. At first a good giant, profoundly
interesting. But I was to see pleased interest become a painful
interest.
Women. The first complaint arose about the gods or the giants and women.
Guacanagari came to La Navidad with Guarin and several old men his
councilors. Diego de Arana received them and there was talk under the
great tree within our gate. Then all the garrison was drawn up, and in
the presence of the cacique Arana gave rebuke and command, and the two
that had done the outrage had prison for a week. It was our first plain
showing in this world that heaven-people or Europeans could differ among
themselves as to right and wrong, could quarrel, upbraid and punish. But
here was evidently good and bad. And what might be the proportion? As
days went by the question gathered in this people’s bosom.
It was not that their women stood aloof from our men. Many did not so
in the least! But it was to be free will and actual fondness, and in
measure.--But there were those among us who, finding in lonely places,
took by force. These became hated.
Diego de Arana was to collect the gold that was a royal monopoly.
Trading for gold for one’s self was forbidden. Assuredly taking it by
force--assuredly all robbery of that or anything else--was forbidden.
But there came a robbery, and since it was resisted, murder followed.
This was a league from Guarico and from La Navidad. The slain Indian’s
companion escaping, told.
This time Diego de Arana went to Guarico and Guacanagari. He took with
him a rich present, and he showed how the guilty men were punished. “You
do not slay them?” asked Guacanagari. Arana shook his head. He thought
we were too few in this land to be ridding of life the violent and
lustful. But the Indians seemed to think that he said that he could
not. They still doubted, I think, our mortality. As yet they had seen no
mighty stranger bleed or die.
Arana would have kept his garrison within the walls. But indeed it
was not healthful for them there, and at the very word of confinement
faction rose. There were now two parties in La Navidad, the Commandant’s
party and Escobedo’s party.
The heat increased. It was now March. An illness fell among us. I took
Guarin into counsel and gave in water the bitter inner bark of that
tree shredded and beaten fine. Those who shook with cold and burned with
fever recovered.
Fray Ignatio was among those who sickened. He left after some days his
hammock, but his strength did not come back to him. Yet, staff in hand,
he went almost daily to Guarico. Then, like that! Fray Ignatio died. He
died--his heart stopped--on the path between Guarico and La Navidad.
He had been preaching, and then, Guarin told me, he put his hand to his
side, and said, “I will go home!” He started up the path, but at the big
tree he dropped. Men and women ran to him, but the butio was dead.
We buried Fray Ignatio beneath the cross on the hilltop. The Indians
watched, and now they knew that we could die.
The heat increased.
At first Diego de Arana sent out at intervals exploring parties. We were
to learn, at least, Guacanagari’s country. But the heat was great, and
so many of those left at La Navidad only idle and sensual. They would
push on to a village--we found in Guacanagari’s country many hamlets,
but no other town like Guarico--and there they would stop, with new
women, new talk, and the endless plenty to eat and sleep in the
shade. When, at their own sweet will, they returned to La Navidad,
the difficulties had been too great. They could not get to the high
mountains where might or might not be the mines. But what they did was
to spread over the country scandalous news of scandalous gods.
At last Arana sorted out those who could be trusted at least to strive
for knowledge and self-control and sent these. But that weakened him at
La Navidad, draining him of pure blood and leaving the infected, and by
mid-April he ceased any effort at exploration. It must wait until the
Admiral returned, and he began to be hungry indeed for that return.
Escobedo and Pedro Gutierrez were not hungry for it--not yet. These
two became the head and front of ill, encouraging every insubordinate,
infuriating all who suffered penalties, teaching insolence, self-will
and license. They drew their own feather to them, promising evil knows
what freedom for rapine.
All the silver weather, golden weather, diamond weather since we had
left Gomera in the Canaries--how many ages since!--now was changed. We
had thought it would last always, but now we entered the long season of
great heat and daily rain. At first we thought these rains momentary,
but day after day, week after week, with stifling heat, the clouds
gathered, broke, and came mighty rain that at last ceased to be
refreshing, became only wearying and hateful. It did not cool us; we
lived in a sultry gloom. And the garrison of La Navidad became very
quarrelsome. La Navidad showed the Indians Europeans cursing one
another, giving blows, only held back by those around from rushing at
each other, stabbing and cutting. Finally they saw Tomaso Passamonte
kill one Jacamo. Diego de Arana hung Tomaso Passamonte. But what were
the Indians to think? Not what they thought when first we came from the
winged canoes to their beaches.
The last of April fell the second sickness and it was far worse than
the first. Eleven men died, and we buried them. When it passed we were
twenty-five Spaniards in Hispaniola, and we liked not the Indians as
well as we had done, and they liked not us. Oh, the pity--pity--pity,
the pity and the blame!
Guacanagari came to visit the commandant, none with him but the butio
Guarin, and desiring to speak with Arana out of the company. They talked
beneath the big tree, that being the most comfortable and commodious
council chamber. Don Diego was imperfect yet in the tongue of Guarico,
and he called Juan Lepe to help him out.
It was a story of Caonabo, cacique of Maguana that ran into the great
mountains of Cibao, that cacique of whom we had already heard as being
like Caribs. Caonabo had sent quite secretly two of his brothers to
Guacanagari. He had heard ill of the strangers and thought they were
demons, not gods! He advised the cacique of Guarico to surprise them
while they slept and slay them. It was in his experience that all who
ate and slept could be slain. If his brother Guacanagari needed help in
the adventure, Caonabo would give it. He would even come in person.
Diego de Arana said, “What did you answer, O Cacique.”
Guacanagari spoke at some length of our Great Cacique and his longing
that he might return. Everything had gone well while he was here! “He
will return,” said Arana. “And he has your word.”
Guacanagari stated that he meant to keep his word. He had returned
answer to Caonabo that there had been misfortunes but that the mighty
strangers were truly mighty, and almost wholly beneficent. At any rate,
he was not prepared to slay them, did not wish to slay them.
Arana spoke vigorously, pointing out to the cacique all the kindliness
that had attended our first intercourse. The unhappinesses of February,
March and April he attributed to real demons, not to our own fiend but
to small powers at large, maleficent and alarmed, heathen powers in
short, jealous of the introduction of the Holy Catholic religion.
Guacanagari seemed to understand about these powers. He looked relieved.
But Guarin who was with him regarded the sea and I saw his lip curl.
The commandant wished to know if there were any danger of Caonabo,
alone, descending upon us from the mountains. But no! Maguana and
Guarico were friends. They had not always been so, but now they were
friends. De Arana looked doubtfully, and I saw him determine to
keep watch and ward and to hold the men within or near to fort. But
Guacanagari sat serene. He repeated that there were always preliminaries
before wars, and that for a long time there had only been peace between
Guarico and Maguana. “Caonabo is Carib,” said the young copper priest.
The cacique answered, “Carib long ago. Not now.”
At sunset, the rain ceasing for a little, the earth smoking, the west
a low, vaporous yellow, the swollen river sounding, Diego de Arana
had summoned by the drum every man in La Navidad. He stood beneath our
banner and put his hand upon the staff and spoke earnestly to those
gathered before him, in their duty and out of their duty. He told of
Caonabo, and of his own sense that Guacanagari was too confident. He
told of Guacanagari’s fidelity to the Admiral, and he appealed to every
Christian there to be at least as faithful. We were few and far from
Spain, and we had perhaps more than we could conceive in trust. “Far
from Spain, but no farther than we will from the blessed saints and the
true Christ. Let us put less distance there, being few in this land and
in danger!”
He knew that he had a dozen with him, and looked straight at Escobedo.
The latter said, “Live in the open and die there, if need be! To live in
this rat hole, breathing plague, is dying already! Caonabo is a fable!
These people! Spaniards have but to lift voice and they flee!”
He received from his following acquiescent sound. Spoke Pedro Gutierrez.
“Guacanagari wishes to bottle us here; that is the whole of it. Why play
his game? I never saw a safer land! Only La Navidad is not safe!”
Those two had half and perhaps more than half of the garrison. Arana
cried, “Don Roderigo de Escobedo and Don Pedro Gutierrez, you serve the
Queen ill!”
“You, Senor,” answered Gutierrez, “serve my Lady Idle Fear and my Lord
Incapacity!”
Whereupon Arana put him in arrest and he lay that night in prison. The
cloud was black over La Navidad.