_How we landed in a bay close to some maise plantations, near the
harbour of Potonchan, and of the attack that was made upon us
there._
While we were busy taking in water, near the above-mentioned houses and
maise plantations, great numbers of Indians were making towards us from
the village of Potonchan, as it is termed by the natives. They had all
their cotton cuirasses on, which reached to their knees, and were armed
with bows, lances, shields, and swords. The latter were shaped like our
broadswords, and are wielded with both hands. They also had slings and
stones, their bunches of feathers on, and their whole bodies painted
with white, brown, and black colours. They approached us in profound
silence, as if they came with the most peaceable intentions, and
inquired of us by signs if we came from the rising of the sun, thereby
pronouncing the very same words which the inhabitants of St. Lazaro had
used: namely, _Castilan, Castilan_. We told them, likewise by signs,
that we indeed came from the rising of the sun. We certainly did not
understand what they meant; nevertheless it was something for us to
reflect on, while it at the same time gave rise to a variety of
conjectures, since the natives of St. Lazaro had used the identical
words.
It was about the hour of Ave Maria, when the Indians approached us in
this manner. A few country houses were scattered round about the
neighbourhood. We took the precaution to post watches in different
quarters, and upon the whole kept a sharp look out, as the manner in
which the natives were assembling seemed to forebode very little good.
When we had closed our ranks and taken every necessary precaution, our
ears were assailed by the cries and yells of large bodies of Indians who
were advancing from different quarters. As they were all armed for
battle we could no longer doubt that some evil design was lurking
behind; we therefore held a consultation with our captain as to the
course we should adopt. Many were of opinion that the best we could do
would be to re-embark ourselves in all haste; but, as is always the case
in critical moments, one advised this and another that, and so this
proposal was overruled as unadvisable, for the vast numbers of Indians
would certainly fall upon us while we were getting into our boats and we
should all stand in danger of being killed. Others again, among which
number I also was, were of opinion that the enemy should be attacked
that very night; for, according to the old saying, he who strikes the
first blow remains master of the field; but we might make up our minds
that each of us singly would have to encounter thirty Indians at least.
Day now began to dawn, and we emboldened each other to meet the coming
severe conflict by putting our trust in God and commending our cause to
him, while every one was determined to defend himself to the utmost. As
soon as daylight had fully broken forth, we perceived more troops of
armed natives moving towards the coast with flying colours. They had on
their feather-knots, and were provided with drums, bows, lances,
shields, and joined themselves to the others who had arrived in the
night. They divided themselves into different bodies, surrounded us on
all sides, and commenced pouring forth such showers of arrows, lances,
and stones, that more than eighty of our men were wounded at the first
onset. They next rushed furiously forward and attacked us man to man:
some with their lances, others with their swords and arrows, and all
this with such terrible fury that we were compelled also to show them
earnest. We dealt many a good thrust and blow amongst them, keeping up
at the same time an incessant fire with our muskets and crossbows; for
while some loaded others fired. At last, by dint of heavy blows and
thrusts we forced them to give way; but they did not retreat further
than was necessary, in order that they might still continue to hem us in
in all safety; constantly crying out in their language, _Al calachoni,
al calachoni_; which signifies, kill the chief! And sure enough our
captain was wounded in no less than twelve different places by their
arrows. I myself had three; one of which was in my left side and very
dangerous, the arrow having pierced to the very bone. Others of our men
were wounded by the enemy's lances, and two were carried off alive; of
whom, one was called Alonzo Bote, the other was an old Portuguese.
Perceiving how closely we were hemmed in on all sides by the enemy, who
not only kept constantly pouring in fresh troops but were copiously
supplied on the field of battle with meat, drink, and quantities of
arrows, we soon concluded that all our courageous fighting would not
advance us a step. The whole of us were wounded, many shot through the
neck, and more than fifty of our men were killed. In this critical
situation we determined to cut our way manfully through the enemy's
ranks and make for the boats, which fortunately lay on the coast near at
hand. We therefore firmly closed our ranks and broke through the enemy.
At that moment you should have heard the whizzing of their arrows, the
horrible yell they set up, and how the Indians provoked each other to
the combat, at the same time making desperate thrusts with their lances.
But a still more serious misfortune awaited us; for as we made a
simultaneous rush to our boats, they soon sunk or capsized, so that we
were forced to cling to them as well as we could; and in this manner by
swimming we strove to make the best of our way to the small vessel,
which was now in all haste coming up to our assistance. Many of our men
were even wounded while climbing into the vessel, but more particularly
those who clung to its side; for the Indians pursued us in their canoes
and attacked us without intermission. With the greatest exertions and
help of God we thus got out of the hands of this people.
After we had gained our vessels we found that fifty-seven of our men
were missing, besides the two whom the Indians had carried off alive,
and five whom we had thrown overboard, who had died in consequence of
their wounds and extreme thirst. The battle lasted a little longer than
half an hour. The spot where it took place was certainly called
Potonchan. Our seamen, however, gave it the name of Bahea de mala Pelea,
(the bay of the disastrous engagement,) as it stands on the maps. As
soon as we found ourselves in safety we returned thanks to Almighty God
for the preservation of our lives. Our wounded, however, had still great
sufferings to undergo, as we had nothing but salt water to wash their
wounds with, which caused them to swell very much. Some of our men swore
most bitterly against our chief pilot Alaminos, and the conduct he had
pursued; he having steadfastly maintained that this was an island and
not a continent. I must, however, break off here, and relate what
further happened to us, in the next chapter.