lost hope. They began to curse Pizarro for leading them only to a
miserable death, and clamored to sail back to Panama. But this only
served to show the difference between men who were only brave physically
and those of moral courage like Pizarro's. He had no thought of giving
up; yet as his men were ripe for mutiny, something must be done; and he
did a very bright thing,--one of the small first flashes of that genius
which danger and extremity finally developed so conspicuously. He
cheered his followers even while he was circumventing their mutiny.
Montenegro, one of the officers, was sent back with the brigantine and
half the little army to the Isle of Pearls for supplies. That kept the
expedition from being given up. Pizarro and his fifty men could not
return to Panama, for they had no boat; and Montenegro and his
companions could not well fail to come back with succor. But it was a
bitter waiting for relief. For six weeks the starving Spaniards
floundered in the swamps, from which they could find no exit. There was
no food except the shellfish they picked up and a few berries, some of
which proved poisonous and caused tortures to those who ate them.
Pizarro shared the hardships of his men with unselfish gentleness,
dividing with the poorest soldier, and toiling like the rest, always
with brave words to cheer them up. More than twenty men--nearly half the
little force--died under their hardships; and all the survivors lost
hope save the stout-hearted commander. When they were almost at the last
gasp, a far light gleaming through the forest aroused them; and forcing
their way in that direction they came at last to open ground, where was
an Indian village whose corn and cocoanuts saved the emaciated
Spaniards. These Indians had a few rude gold ornaments, and told of a
rich country to the south.
At last Montenegro got back with the vessel and supplies to Puerto de la
Hambre, or the Port of Hunger, as the Spaniards named it. He too had
suffered greatly from hunger, having been delayed by storms. The
reunited force sailed on southward, and presently came to a more open
coast. Here was another Indian village. Its people had fled, but the
explorers found food and some gold trinkets. They were horrified,
however, at discovering that they were among cannibals, for before the
fireplaces human legs and arms were roasting. They put to sea in the
teeth of a storm sooner than remain in so repulsive a spot. At the
headland, which they named Punta Quemada,--the Burnt Cape,--they had to
land again, their poor bark being so strained that it was in great
danger of going to the bottom. Montenegro was sent inland with a small
force to explore, while Pizarro camped at a deserted Indian _rancheria_.
The lieutenant had penetrated but a few miles when he was ambushed by
the savages, and three Spaniards were slain. Montenegro's men had not
even muskets; but with sword and cross-bow they fought hard, and at last
drove off their dusky foes. The Indians, failing there, made a rapid
march back to their village, and knowing the paths got there ahead of
Montenegro and made a sudden attack. Pizarro led his little company out
to meet them, and a fierce but unequal fight began. The Spaniards were
at great odds, and their case was desperate. In the first volley of the
enemy, Pizarro received _seven wounds_,--a fact which in itself is
enough to show you what slight advantage their armor gave the Spaniards
over the Indians, while it was a fearful burden in the tropic heats and
amid such agile foes. The Spaniards had to give way; and as they
retreated, Pizarro slipped and fell. The Indians, readily recognizing
that he was the chief, had directed their special efforts to slay him;
and now several sprang upon the fallen and bleeding warrior. But Pizarro
struggled up and struck down two of them with supreme strength, and
fought off the rest till his men could run to his aid. Then Montenegro
came up and fell upon the savages from behind, and soon the Spaniards
were masters of the field. But it had been dearly bought, and their
leader saw plainly that he could not succeed in that savage land with
such a weak force. His next step must be to get reinforcements.
He accordingly sailed back to Chicama, and remaining there with most of
his men,--again careful not to give them a chance to desert,--sent
Nicolas de Ribera, with the gold so far collected and a full account of
their doings, to Governor Davila at Panama.
Meanwhile Almagro, after long delays, had sailed with sixty men in the
second vessel from Panama to follow Pizarro. He found the "track" by
trees Pizarro had marked at various points, according to their
agreement. At Punta Quemada he landed, and the Indians gave him a
hostile reception. Almagro's blood was hot, and he charged upon them
bravely. In the action, an Indian javelin wounded him so severely in the
head that after a few days of intense suffering he lost one of his eyes.
But despite this great misfortune he kept on his voyage. It was the one
admirable side of the man,--his great brute courage. He could face
danger and pain bravely; but in a very few days he proved that the
higher courage was lacking. At the river San Juan (St. John) the
loneliness and uncertainty were too much for Almagro, and he turned back
toward Panama. Fortunately, he learned that his captain was at Chicama,
and there joined him. Pizarro had no thought of abandoning the
enterprise, and he so impressed Almagro--who only needed to be _led_ to
be ready for any daring--that the two solemnly vowed to each other to
see the voyage to the end or die like men in trying. Pizarro sent him on
to Panama to work for help, and himself stayed to cheer his men in
pestilent Chicama.
Governor Davila, at best an unenterprising and unadmirable man, was just
now in a particularly bad humor to be asked for help. One of his
subordinates in Nicaragua needed punishment, he thought, and his own
force was small for the purpose. He bitterly regretted having allowed
Pizarro to go off with a hundred men who would be so useful now, and
refused either to help the expedition or to permit it to go on. De
Luque, whose calling and character made him influential in the little
colony, finally persuaded the mean-hearted governor not to interfere
with the expedition. Even here Davila showed his nature. As the price of
his official consent,--without which the voyage could not go on,--he
extorted a payment of a thousand _pesos de oro_, for which he also
relinquished all his claims to the profits of the expedition, which he
felt sure would amount to little or nothing. A _peso de oro_, or "dollar
of gold," had about the intrinsic value of our dollar, but was then
really worth far more. In those days of the world gold was far scarcer
than now, and therefore had much more purchasing power. The same weight
of gold would buy about five times as much then as it will now; so what
was called a dollar, and _weighed_ a dollar, was really _worth_ about
five dollars. The "hush-money" extorted by Davila was therefore some
$5,000.
Fortunately, about this time Davila was superseded by a new governor of
Panama, Don Pedro de los Rios, who opposed no further obstacles to the
great plan. A new contract was entered into between Pizarro, Almagro,
and Luque, dated March 10, 1526. The good vicar had advanced gold bars
to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars for the expedition; and
was to receive one third of all the profits. But in reality most of this
large sum had come from the licentiate Espinosa; and a private contract
insured that Luque's share should be turned over to him. Two new
vessels, larger and better than the worn-out brigantine which had been
built by Balboa, were purchased and filled with provisions. The little
army was swelled by recruits to one hundred and sixty men, and even a
few horses were secured; and the second expedition was ready.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Pronounced Troo-_heel_-yo.
[20] Pronounced Pee-_sah_-roh.
[21] The famous European campaigner, De Cordova.
[22] Pronounced O-_yay_-dah.
[23] Pronounced Dee-_ay_-go day Al-_mah_-gro.
[24] Pronounced Er-_nan_-do day _Loo_-kay.
II.
THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT GIVE UP.
With so inadequate a force, yet much stronger than before, Pizarro and
Almagro sailed again on their dangerous mission. The pilot was Bartolome
Ruiz, a brave and loyal Andalusian and a good sailor. The weather was
better now, and the adventurers pushed on hopefully. After a few days'
sail they reached the Rio San Juan, which was as far as any European had
ever sailed down that coast: it will be remembered that this was where
Almagro had got discouraged and turned back. Here were more Indian
settlements, and a little gold; but here too the vastness and savagery
of the wilderness became more apparent. It is hard for us to conceive at
all, in these easy days, how _lost_ these explorers were. Then there was
not a white man in all the world who knew what lay beyond them; and the
knowledge of something somewhere ahead is the most necessary prop to
courage. We can understand their situation only by supposing a band of
schoolboys--brave boys but unlearned--carried blindfold a thousand
miles, and set down in a trackless wilderness they had never heard of.
Pizarro halted here with part of his men, and sent Almagro back to
Panama with one vessel for recruits, and Pilot Ruiz south with the
other to explore the coast. Ruiz coasted southward as far as Punta de
Pasado, and was the first white man who ever crossed the equator on the
Pacific,--no small honor. He found a rather more promising country, and
encountered a large raft with cotton sails, on which were several
Indians. They had mirrors (probably of volcanic glass, as was common to
the southern aborigines) set in silver, and ornaments of silver and
gold, besides remarkable cloths, on which were woven figures of beasts,
birds, and fishes. The cruise lasted several weeks; and Ruiz got back to
the San Juan barely in time. Pizarro and his men had suffered awful
hardships. They had made a gallant effort to get inland, but could not
escape the dreadful tropical forest, "whose trees grew to the sky." The
dense growth was not so lonely as their earlier forests. There were
troops of chattering monkeys and brilliant parrots; around the huge
trees coiled lazy boas, and alligators dozed by the sluggish lagoons.
Many of the Spaniards perished by these grim, strange foes; some were
crushed to pulp in the mighty coils of the snakes, and some were
crunched between the teeth of the scaly saurians. Many more fell victims
to lurking savages; in a single swoop fourteen of the dwindling band
were slain by Indians, who surrounded their stranded canoe. Food gave
out too, and the survivors were starving when Ruiz got back with a scant
relief but cheering news. Very soon too Almagro arrived, with supplies
and a reinforcement of eighty men.
The whole expedition set sail again for the south. But at once there
rose persistent storms. After great suffering the explorers got back to
the Isle of Gallo, where they stayed two weeks to repair their disabled
vessels and as badly shattered bodies. Then they sailed on again down
the unknown seas. The country was gradually improving. The malarial
tropic forests no longer extended into the very sea. Amid the groves of
ebony and mahogany were occasional clearings, with rudely cultivated
fields, and also Indian settlements of considerable size. In this region
were gold-washings and emerald-mines, and the natives had some valuable
ornaments. The Spaniards landed, but were set upon by a vastly superior
number of savages, and escaped destruction only in a very curious way.
In the uneven battle the Spaniards were sorely pressed, when one of
their number fell from his horse; and this trivial incident put the
swarming savages to flight. Some historians have ridiculed the idea that
such a trifle could have had such an effect; but that is merely because
of ignorance of the facts. You must remember that these Indians had
never before seen a horse. The Spanish rider and his steed they took for
one huge animal, strange and fearful enough at best,--a parallel to the
old Greek myth of the Centaurs, and a token of the manner in which that
myth began. But when this great unknown beast divided itself into two
parts, which were able to act independently of each other, it was too
much for the superstitious Indians, and they fled in terror. The
Spaniards escaped to their vessels, and gave thanks for their strange
deliverance.
But this narrow escape had shown more clearly how inadequate their
handful of men was to cope with the wild hordes. They must again have
reinforcements; and back they sailed to the Isle of Gallo, where Pizarro
was to wait while Almagro went to Panama for help. You see Pizarro
always took the heaviest and hardest burden for himself, and gave the
easiest to his associate. It was always Almagro who was sent back to the
comforts of civilization, while his lion-hearted leader bore the waiting
and danger and suffering. The greatest obstacle all along now was in the
soldiers themselves,--and I say this with a full realization of the
deadly perils and enormous hardships. But perils and hardships without
are to be borne more easily than treachery and discontent within. At
every step Pizarro had to _carry_ his men,--morally. They were
constantly discouraged (for which they surely had enough reason); and
when discouraged they were ready for any desperate act, except going
ahead. So Pizarro had constantly to be will and courage not only for
himself, who suffered as cruelly as the meanest, but for all. It was
like the stout soul we sometimes see holding up a half-dead body,--a
body that would long ago have broken loose from a less intrepid spirit.
The men were now mutinous again; and despite Pizarro's gallant example
and efforts, they came very near wrecking the whole enterprise. They
sent by Almagro to the governor's wife a ball of cotton as a sample of
the products of the country; but in this apparently harmless present the
cowards had hidden a letter, in which they declared that Pizarro was
leading them only to death, and warned others not to follow. A doggerel
verse at the end set forth that Pizarro was a butcher waiting for more
meat, and that Almagro went to Panama to gather sheep to be slaughtered.
The letter reached Governor de los Rios, and made him very indignant. He
sent the Cordovan Tafur with two vessels to the Isle of Gallo to bring
back every Spaniard there, and thus stop an expedition the importance of
which his mind could not grasp. Pizarro and his men were suffering
terribly, always drenched by the storms, and nearly starving. When Tafur
arrived, all but Pizarro hailed him as a deliverer, and wanted to go
home at once. But the captain was not daunted. With his dagger he drew a
line upon the sands, and looking his men in the face, said: "Comrades
and friends, on that side are death, hardship, starvation, nakedness,
storms; on this side is comfort. From this side you go to Panama to be
poor; from that side to Peru to be rich. Choose, each who is a brave
Castilian, that which he thinks best."
As he spoke he stepped across the line to the south. Ruiz, the brave
Andalusian pilot, stepped after him; and so did Pedro de Candia, the
Greek, and one after another eleven more heroes, whose names deserve to
be remembered by all who love loyalty and courage. They were Cristoval
de Peralta, Domingo de Soria Luce, Nicolas de Ribera, Francisco de
Cuellar, Alonso de Molina, Pedro Alcon, Garcia de Jerez, Anton de
Carrion, Alonso Briceno, Martin de Paz, and Juan de la Torre.
The narrow Tafur could see in this heroism only disobedience to the
governor, and would not leave them one of his vessels. It was with
difficulty that he was prevailed upon to give them a few provisions,
even to keep them from immediate starvation; and with his cowardly
passengers he sailed back to Panama, leaving the fourteen alone upon
their little island in the unknown Pacific.
Did you ever know of a more remarkable heroism? Alone, imprisoned by the
great sea, with very little food, no boat, no clothing, almost no
weapons, here were fourteen men still bent on conquering a savage
country as big as Europe! Even the prejudiced Prescott admits that in
all the annals of chivalry there is nothing to surpass this.
The Isle of Gallo became uninhabitable, and Pizarro and his men made a
frail raft and sailed north seventy-five miles to the Isle of Gorgona.
This was higher land, and had some timber, and the explorers made rude
huts for shelter from the storms. Their sufferings were great from
hunger, exposure, and venomous creatures which tortured them
relentlessly. Pizarro kept up daily religious services, and every day
they thanked God for their preservation, and prayed for his continued
protection. Pizarro was always a devout man, and never thought of
acting without invoking divine help, nor of neglecting thanks for his
successes. It was so to the last, and even with his last gasp his dying
fingers traced the cross he revered.
For seven indescribable months the fourteen deserted men waited and
suffered on their lonely reef. Tafur had reached Panama safely, and
reported their refusal to return. Governor de los Rios grew angrier yet,
and refused to help the obstinate castaways. But De Luque, reminding him
that his orders from the Crown commanded assistance to Pizarro, at last
induced the niggard governor to allow a vessel to be sent with barely
enough sailors to man it, and a small stock of provisions. But with it
went strict orders to Pizarro to return, and report at the end of six
months, no matter what happened. The rescuers found the brave fourteen
on the Isle of Gorgona; and Pizarro was at last enabled to resume his
voyage, with a few sailors and an army of _eleven_. Two of the fourteen
were so sick that they had to be left on the island in the care of
friendly Indians, and with heavy hearts their comrades bade them
farewell.
Pizarro sailed on south. Soon they passed the farthest point a European
had ever reached,--Punta de Pasado, which was the limit of Ruiz's
explorations,--and were again in unknown seas. After twenty days' sail
they entered the Gulf of Guayaquil, in Ecuador, and anchored in the Bay
of Tumbez. Before them they saw a large Indian town with permanent
houses. The blue bay was dotted with Indian sail-rafts; and far in the
background loomed the giant peaks of the Andes. We may imagine how the
Spaniards were impressed by their first sight of mountains that rose
more than twenty thousand feet above them.
The Indians came out on their _balsas_ (rafts) to look at these
marvellous strangers, and being treated with the utmost kindness and
consideration, soon lost their fears. The Spaniards were given presents
of chickens, swine, and trinkets, and had brought to them bananas, corn,
sweet potatoes, pineapples, cocoanuts, game, and fish. You may be sure
these dainties were more than welcome to the gaunt explorers after so
many starving months. The Indians also brought aboard several
llamas,--the characteristic and most valuable quadruped of South
America. The fascinating but misled historian who has done more than any
other one man in the United States to spread an interesting but
absolutely false idea of Peru, calls the llama the Peruvian sheep; but
it is no more a sheep than a giraffe is. The llama is the South American
camel (a true camel, though a small one), the beast of burden whose
slow, sure feet and patient back have made it possible for man to subdue
a country so mountainous in parts as to make horses useless. Besides
being a carrier it is a producer of clothing; it supplies the camel's
hair which is woven into the woollen garments of the people. There were
three other kinds of camel,--the vicuna, the guanaco, and the
alpaca,--all small, and all variously prized for their hair, which still
surpasses the wool of the best sheep for making fine fabrics. The
Peruvians domesticated the llama in large flocks, and it was their most
important helper. They were the only aborigines in the two Americas who
had a beast of burden before the Europeans came, except the Apaches of
the Plains and the Eskimos, both of whom had the dog and the sledge.
At Tumbez, Alonso de Molina was sent ashore to look at the town. He came
back with such gorgeous reports of gilded temples and great forts that
Pizarro distrusted him, and sent Pedro de Candia. This Greek, a native
of the Isle of Candia, was a man of importance in the little Spanish
force. The Greeks everywhere were then regarded as a people adept in the
still mysterious weapons; and all Europe had a respect for those who had
invented that wonderful agent "Greek fire," which would burn under
water, and which no man now-a-days knows how to make. The Greeks were
generally known as "fire-workers," and were in great demand as masters
of artillery.
[Illustration: Autograph of Pedro de Candia.]
De Candia went ashore with his armor and arquebuse, both of which
astounded the natives; and when he set up a plank and shivered it with a
ball, they were overwhelmed at the strange noise and its result. Candia
brought back as glowing reports as Molina had done; and the tattered
Spaniards began to feel that at last their golden dreams were coming
true, and took heart again. Pizarro gently declined the gifts of gold
and silver and pearls which the awe-struck natives offered, and turned
his face again to the south, sailing as far as about the ninth degree of
south latitude. Then, feeling that he had seen enough to warrant going
back for reinforcements, he stood about for Panama. Alonso de Molina and
one companion were left in Tumbez at their own request, being much in
love with the country. Pizarro took back in their places two Indian
youth, to learn the Spanish language. One of them, who was given the
name of Felipillo (little Philip) afterward cut an important and
discreditable figure. The voyagers stopped at the Isle of Gorgona for
their two countrymen who had been left there sick. One was dead, but the
other gladly rejoined his compassionate comrades. And so, with his dozen
men, Pizarro came back to Panama after an absence of eighteen months,
into which had been crowded the sufferings and horrors of a lifetime.
III.
GAINING GROUND.
Governor de los Rios was not impressed by the heroism of the little
party, and refused them aid. The case seemed hopeless; but the leader
was not to be crushed. He decided to go to Spain in person, and appeal
to his king. It was one of his most remarkable undertakings, it seems to
me. For this man, whose boyhood had been passed with swine, and who in
manhood had been herding rude men far more dangerous, who was ignorant
of books and unversed in courts, to present himself confidently yet
modestly at the dazzling and punctilious court of Spain, showed another
side of his high courage. It was very much as if a London chimney-sweep
were to go to-morrow to ask audience and favors of Queen Victoria.
But Pizarro was equal to this, as to all the other crises of his life,
and acquitted himself as gallantly. He was still tattered and penniless,
but De Luque collected for him fifteen hundred ducats; and in the spring
of 1528 Pizarro sailed for Spain. He took with him Pedro de Candia and
some Peruvians, with some llamas, some beautifully-woven Indian cloths,
and a few trinkets and vessels of gold and silver, to corroborate his
story. He reached Seville in the summer, and was at once thrown into
jail by Enciso under the cruel old law, long prevalent in all civilized
countries, allowing imprisonment for debt. His story soon got abroad,
and he was released by order of the Crown and summoned to court.
Standing before the brilliant Charles V., the unlettered soldier told
his story so modestly, so manfully, so clearly, that Charles shed tears
at the recital of such awful sufferings, and warmed to such heroic
steadfastness.
The king was just about to embark for Italy on an important mission; but
his heart was won, and he left Pizarro to the Council of the Indies with
recommendation to help the enterprise. That wise but ponderous body
moved slowly, as men learned only in books and theories are apt to move;
and delay was dangerous. At last the queen took up the matter, and on
the 26th of July, 1529, signed with her own royal hand the precious
document which made possible one of the greatest conquests, and one of
the most gallant, in human history. America owes a great deal to the
brave queens of Spain as well as to its kings. We remember what Isabella
had done for the discovery of the New World; and now Charles's consort
had as creditable a hand in its most exciting chapter.