had been introduced and throve wonderfully; now they ran wild over the
islands, especially Hispaniola, until they became innumerable. On the
abandoned provision grounds of the Indians they found a virgin
pasturage. Hogs also took to the woods, and increased even faster than
the cattle. At first there were neither huntsmen nor carnivorous animals
to check this wonderful development. The once domesticated animals
recovered some of the powers and capacities of their wild ancestors,
and only required enemies to assist in bringing out other latent
characters. And these were not long wanting. Large and powerful hounds
had been imported from Spain to hunt the runaway Indians, and now that
their occupation was gone, they also took to the woods and savannahs.
Like their ancestors and cousins, the wolves, they combined into packs
and fought the cattle and hogs. Both hunters and hunted became stronger
and fiercer--the dogs learnt how best to attack, and their prey to
defend themselves. It was a struggle like that between the cannibals and
meal-eaters--nature's method of preserving the balance of life. This
equalisation no doubt would have been the result had not man interfered;
how this happened we must leave to another chapter.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
II.
THE QUEST FOR "EL DORADO".
Ophir was not found in the islands, and the bands of adventurers went
over to _terra firma_ or the mainland to continue the search. Along the
coast of Guiana and Venezuela they again came across the gentle Arawak
and ferocious Carib, the latter making himself respected everywhere,
while his poor-spirited fellow-countryman was alternately caressed and
plundered. In every place the Spaniards found gold ornaments, and every
tribe told them that the precious metal was only obtainable in some far
distant country. The Haitians sent Columbus to the south in search of
the _guanin_ country, and it was there he discovered the coast of Paria
and the delta of the mighty Orinoco. But he was not fated to come across
the treasure cities of the Indies.
Others followed to at last conquer Mexico and Peru, but even then it was
generally believed that nations existed who had more riches to be
plundered than those of the Inca and Montezuma. To find these golden
regions the voyagers wandered in every direction, contributing much to
the knowledge of the coasts and rivers, but always coming back
disappointed.
The horrors of this search can hardly be appreciated nowadays. The ships
were so small and ill-found that we should hardly care to use them for
coasters, yet in them these pioneers crossed the Atlantic and
encountered the hurricanes of the West Indies. Decked only at bow and
stern, the waves dashed into the hold and wetted the provisions, while
the sun poured down upon the water casks and burst their wooden hoops.
The butter and cheese stank, the flour in sacks became mouldy, and the
bacon and salt fish putrid. Then the hull of the vessel was unprotected,
and the teredo, or ship worm, bored it through and through, until
nothing but careening and caulking could save the poor craft from
sinking. When we understand the privations and dangers of this
navigation we are not surprised that the adventurers often came to
grief, but rather wonder that any of them survived.
Living in the West Indies, we have often thought of the pain and
suffering it would produce if we were compelled to walk or sit in the
burning sun armed as were the soldiers at that period. We can hardly
believe that they wore steel body armour, yet the evidence is too strong
to be refuted. True, they gave it up afterwards in favour of quilted
cotton, but before they did so how hot they must have felt! We can fancy
the sentry standing exposed to the full blaze of the sun, his helmet and
breastplate burning hot and his woollen underclothing saturated with
perspiration. Then there would be the open boat ascending a river. The
occupants dared not row in the shade for fear of cannibals shooting at
them with poisoned arrows from the thicket, and out in the river they
must have felt as if in a furnace. Even with our white clothing and
light hats a long journey in an open boat when the sun is high often
ends in fever, and almost invariably in a headache. The neck and backs
of the hands get blistered, and become sore, the glare on the water
dazzles the eye, and we feel faint.
In one of the accounts of such a boating expedition on a river in Guiana
we read of the men finding some yellow plums floating on the water, and
of their being much refreshed by them. We also have come across these
hog-plums when almost exhausted by a long exposure on the open river,
and when even our negro steersman was nodding as he held the paddle.
Suddenly we came to our destination, the mouth of a creek, and were
under an arcade of vegetation, beneath which the plums floated on the
cool dark water.
The men of the sixteenth century must have been stronger than ourselves,
or they could hardly have endured such pain and privation. They lay down
on the bare earth night after night, and on board ship went to sleep on
naked planks. As they could endure pain and discomfort, so also could
they inflict it on others. The rough seamen learnt to bear hardships
which blunted their feelings of humanity and made them inclined to
torture others. When in the hands of the cannibals they were almost as
stoical as the savage himself, their ruling passion being a desire for
revenge. If cruelly treated by one tribe they retaliated on others; in
the same way the Indians killed one party of Spaniards to avenge the
insults of their countrymen. This led to a great deal of trouble and
made the voyages of the treasure-seekers dangerous to all. However free
from blame one party might be, they were liable to suffer for previous
wrong-doings and they in turn left behind them injuries to be avenged
on the next comers.
[Illustration: A GUIANA RIVER. THE TUMATAMARI FALLS.]
And then, how very audacious these adventurers were! Alonzo de Ojeda was
perhaps the most striking example of utter recklessness in face of
danger. In 1509 he entered the harbour of Carthagena in spite of a
warning that its shores were inhabited by a ferocious tribe who fought
with palm-wood swords and poisoned arrows. It was even stated that the
women mingled in the battle, and could use the bow and a kind of lance.
These people had been irritated by another party of Spaniards, and on
sight of the vessels were up in arms at once. However, Ojeda was
undaunted, and landed at once with his men and some friars, who had been
sent to convert the Indians. In front stood the enemy brandishing their
weapons, and prepared for the first hostile movement. Yet, even under
these critical circumstances, he ordered the usual proclamation to be
read to the Indians in a language of which they knew nothing. He, Alonzo
de Ojeda, servant of the most high and mighty sovereigns of Castile and
Leon, conquerors of barbarous nations, notified them that God had given
St. Peter the supreme power over the world, which power was exercised by
the Pope, who had given all that part of the world to these sovereigns.
They were called upon to acknowledge this sovereignty at once, which, if
they refused to do, he would bring upon them the horrors of war,
desolation to their houses, confiscation of their property, and slavery
to their wives and children.
[Illustration: INHABITANTS OF THE SPANISH MAIN.
(_From Colijn's "Reisen."_)]
While one of the friars read this address the savages stood on the
defensive, no doubt wondering what the delay meant. Ojeda knew not their
language, and they took little notice of his signs of amity. As they
still brandished their weapons, the intrepid adventurer led on an
attack, calling the Virgin to his aid, and in a few minutes put them to
flight, killing a few and taking others prisoners. Not content with
this, he followed them through the forest to their village, and after a
deadly fight, drove them out and burnt their dwellings. Still undaunted,
he went on to another village, which he found deserted, but while his
men were searching for plunder he was attacked by the enemy in
overwhelming numbers. All his followers were killed, and he himself
wounded with a poisoned arrow, yet he managed to escape into the forest
to suffer hunger and thirst in addition to the pain of his wound.
Meanwhile his men on board the ships were wondering what had become of
their leader and his party. They were afraid to venture far into the
woods on account of the yells and shouts of the Indians, who were
celebrating their triumph. At last, however, they commenced a search,
and found their captain in a mangrove swamp, lying on a tangle of roots,
speechless and dying of hunger, yet still clutching his naked sword and
bearing his buckler. Notwithstanding all this, he ultimately recovered,
to go on as eagerly as ever in making fresh conquests.
Later, the proclamation to the Indians was interpreted to them,
sometimes eliciting replies very much to the point. When the Bachelor
Enciso went in search of the country of Zenu, where gold was so
plentiful that it could be collected in the rainy season in nets
stretched across the river, he was opposed by two Caciques, to whom the
paper was read. They listened courteously, and, when it had been
expounded, said they were quite willing to admit that there was one God,
the ruler of heaven and earth, whose creatures they were. But as to the
Pope's regency and his donation of _their_ country to the king of Spain,
that was another thing altogether. The Pope must have been drunk when he
gave away what was not his, and the king could only have been mad to ask
him for the territory of others. They, the Caciques, were the rulers of
these territories, and needed no other sovereign: if their king came to
take possession they would cut off his head and stick it on a pole, as
they did the heads of their other enemies, at the same time pointing to
a row of grisly skulls impaled close by. Their arguments, however, were
useless, for Enciso attacked, routed them, and took one of the Caciques
prisoner.
The accounts of the early voyagers are full of such examples of audacity
as well as of endurance of suffering. The perils of the sea were as
great as those of the land, but few voyages were as disastrous as that
of Valdivia, who in 1512 sailed from Darien for Hispaniola. When in
sight of Jamaica, his vessel was caught in a hurricane and driven upon
some shoals called the Vipers, where it was dashed to pieces. He and his
twenty men barely escaped with their lives in a boat without sails,
oars, water, or provisions. For thirteen days they drifted about, until
seven were dead and the remainder helpless. Then the boat stranded on
the coast of Yucatan, and the poor wretches were captured by Indians, to
be taken before their Cacique. They were now put into a kind of pen to
fatten for the cannibal festival. Valdivia and four others were taken
first, and the horror produced on their comrades led them to risk
everything and break out of their prison in the night. Having succeeded
in reaching the forest, they were almost as badly off, for no food could
be had, and they dared not run the risk of going near the villages.
Almost perishing with hunger, they at last reached another part of the
country, to be again captured, and kept as slaves. Finally they all died
except two, one of whom at last escaped to tell the tale almost by a
miracle.
One of the stories is suggestive of "Robinson Crusoe." In 1499 Nino and
Guerra sailed from Spain in a bark of fifty tons, and, while exploring
the Gulf of Paria, came across eighteen Carib canoes filled with armed
men. The savages assailed them with flights of arrows, but the sudden
boom of the cannon frightened them away at once. One canoe, however, was
captured, in which they took a Carib prisoner, and found an Arawak
captive lying bound at the bottom. On being liberated, the Arawak
informed the Spaniards, through their interpreter, that he was the last
of seven who had been taken by the cannibals. The other six had been
killed and eaten one after another, and he had been reserved for the
next evening meal. The Spaniards, incensed against the man-eater, gave
him into the hands of the Arawak, at the same time handing him a
cudgel, leaving his enemy unarmed. Immediately the Arawak sprang upon
him, knocked him sprawling, trod his breath out of his body, and at the
same time beat him with his fist until nothing but a shapeless corpse
remained. But, not yet satisfied, he tore the head off and stuck it on a
pole as a trophy.
After the conquest of Mexico and Peru had rewarded Cortez and Pizarro,
others wished to be equally fortunate. From the Indians came reports of
golden countries in the interior, and land expeditions were projected.
These reports grew into shape, and at last a quest as romantic as that
for the Holy Grail, led one adventurer after another on and on, to
starvation, sickness, and death.
The germ of the story of "El Dorado," the lake of golden sands, and the
glittering city of Manoa, appears to have first arisen in New Granada.
Here was the Lake of Guatavita, and before the arrival of the Spaniards
this was the scene of an annual religious festival. To the genius of the
lake the Cacique of the neighbouring district offered a holy sacrifice
on a certain day. In the morning he anointed his body with balsam, and
then rolled himself in gold dust until he became a "gilded king." Then,
embarking in a canoe with his nobles, he was paddled to the centre of
the lake, crowds of people thronging its shores and honouring him with
songs and the din of rude instrumental music. Offerings to the god of
the lake were made from the canoe, gold, emeralds, pearls, and
everything precious being scattered upon the water. Finally, the Cacique
jumped in himself and washed the gold from his body, while the people
shouted for joy. To wind up the festival a great drinking bout was held,
when canoesful of piwarree, the Indian's beer, were drunk, and every one
made merry.
Such was the tradition--for the ceremony had been discontinued half a
century before--which had so impressed itself over the northern shores
of South America, as to be told from the Amazon to the isthmus of
Darien. "El Dorado" was gilded every morning, and his city was full of
beautiful golden palaces. It stood on the edge of the great salt lake
Parima, the sands of which were composed of the precious metal. Some
went so far as to say that they had seen the glittering city from a
distance, and were only prevented from reaching it by the peculiar
difficulties of the way. Not to mention tigers and alligators,
starvation and sickness, there were "anthropophagoi and men whose heads
do grow beneath their shoulders," besides amazons and fiery dragons.
Wherever the story was told the golden city was located at a far
distance, and it seemed ever to recede before the eager seekers. They
sought it in the forest and on the savannah, over the lofty peaks of the
Andes, and along the banks of the mighty rivers. The whole of the
Spanish Main was explored, and places then visited which have hardly
been seen again by the white man down to the present date.
The quest began in New Granada, and from thence it shifted to Venezuela.
The most daring seekers were German knights, the Welsers of Augsburg.
They had received charters from Charles the Fifth, under which they
were empowered to found cities, erect forts, work mines, and make slaves
of the Indians. One of their representatives, Ambrosio de Alfinger, set
out in 1530, accompanied by two hundred Spaniards, and a larger number
of Indians, laden with provisions and other necessaries. On the journey
the party committed such brutalities upon the poor natives that the
reports afterwards helped to fire the blood of Englishmen, and make them
bitterly cruel. To prevent the bearers from running away they were
strung together on chains, running through rings round their necks. If
one of them dropped from sickness or exhaustion, his head was cut off,
the ring loosened, and thus the trouble of interfering with the chain
saved. If he were to be left behind, it did not matter whether he was
alive or dead. At one place on the river Magdalena the frightened
natives took refuge on some islands, but the Spaniards swam their horses
across and killed or took prisoners the whole of them. From their
Cacique Alfinger got booty to the value of sixty thousand dollars, with
which he sent back for further supplies. But, although he waited for a
year his messengers did not return, and the company were reduced to such
straits that many died for want of bare food. But the Indians fared much
worse, for their provision grounds were utterly destroyed, and what with
murders and starvation the surrounding country was quite depopulated and
desolate.
Even Alfinger had to give up waiting for his supplies and move on at
last, for these had been utilised by his lieutenant on an expedition of
his own. The party eked out a bare subsistence with wild fruits and
game. If they found a village they plundered it of everything it
contained, dug up the provisions from the fields, and left the survivors
of the massacre to starve. Not that they themselves were in a much
better plight; fever, the result of want and exposure, carried them off
in continually increasing numbers. At last they got into a mountain
region, and the poor naked bearers were frozen to death. Descending
again they encountered stronger and fiercer tribes, by whom they were
defeated, the cruel Alfinger himself dying two days afterwards from his
wounds. A small remnant only returned after two years' absence, leaving
a track of pain and suffering to make their memory accursed for many
generations.
George of Spires now fitted out a great expedition of three hundred
infantry and two hundred cavalry, which started in 1536. They also went
a long distance into the interior, braving hardships and dangers almost
incredible. Jaguars carried off their horses, and even went so far as to
attack and kill several of the Indian bearers and one Spaniard. Like
their predecessors, they also encountered savage Indians, and died of
starvation and sickness. After journeying fifteen hundred miles from the
coast they had to return unsuccessful; but as their leader was less
cruel than Alfinger, the losses of the party were not so great. Instead
of dying on the journey he lived to become Governor of Venezuela.
Nicholas Fedreman followed the last party with supplies, but took them
to go treasure-seeking on his own account. He wandered about for three
years, and at last returned with some wonderful stories which induced
others to continue the search. Herman de Quesada also travelled about
for a year, and returned like his predecessors. Then Philip von Huten,
who had gone already with George of Spires, fitted out a great
expedition. His party was at one time so utterly famished that they had
to eat ants, which they captured by placing corn cobs near the nests of
these little creatures. They travelled in a great circle without knowing
where they went, and at the end of a year came back to the place from
whence they had started. Hearing, however, of a rich city called
Macatoa, Von Huten started again, and found streets of houses with about
eight hundred inhabitants, but no treasure. The people here sent him on
farther, with their tales of the Omaguas, a warlike people living away
in the south. On he went for five days, and at last came upon what he
thought must be the golden city. It stretched away as far as the eye
could reach, and in the centre was a great temple. But, although the
little party charged gallantly down a hill and into the town, the
Omaguas came out in such force that they had to retreat, bearing their
wounded leader in a hammock. Continually harassed by Indians, they at
last got back, to tell such stories of the dangers of the quest that the
Omaguas seem to have been afterwards left alone.
Our account of the search for "El Dorado" is necessarily short and
imperfect, as it would be impossible even to enumerate all the
expeditions. There is one, however, that was so tragic and awful, that,
although it was fitted out in Peru, it must yet be mentioned in the
story of the Spanish Main.
[Illustration: "EL DORADO."
(_From Gottfried's "Reisen."_)]
Notwithstanding the enormous quantities of gold and silver found in
Peru, the crowds of needy treasure-seekers who went to that country gave
some trouble to the Viceroy, who appears to have been willing to get rid
of them at any cost. Whether he purposely sent them on a "wild goose
chase," or whether he really believed the "El Dorado" story, is
doubtful, but it is certain that he thought it prudent to give them
employment in some way, to prevent mischief in his province.
The expedition was put in command of Pedro de Ursua, and was intended to
go down the Amazon in search of treasure cities. Embarking on the river
Huallaga, in the year 1560, they had hardly passed the mouth of Ucayali
before Ursua found he had a most unprincipled gang of scoundrels under
his command. A little farther down the river they mutinied, under the
leadership of Lope de Aguirre, and murdered Ursua and his lieutenant,
appointing Guzman as captain. Being dissatisfied, however, with their
new commander, they also killed him a little later, together with most
of his adherents.
Now Aguirre became leader--a ruffian whose character was of the
blackest. Father Pedro Simon delineates his features and character,
making him out to be a very devil. He was about fifty years of age,
short of stature and sparsely built, ill-featured, his face small and
lean, his beard black, and his eyes as piercing as those of a hawk. When
he looked at any one he fixed his gaze sternly, particularly when
annoyed; he was a noisy talker and boaster, and when well supported very
bold and determined, but otherwise a coward. Of a very hardy
constitution, he could bear much fatigue, either on foot or horseback.
He was never without one or two coats of mail or a steel breastplate,
and always carried a sword, dagger, arquebuse, or lance. His sleep was
mostly taken in the day, as he was afraid to rest at night, although he
never took off his armour altogether nor put away his weapons. Simon
said he had always been of a turbulent disposition; a lover of revolts
and mutinies; an enemy to all good men and good actions.
Such was the Tyrant or Traitor Aguirre--virtually a madman--who now
became the leader of a band of wretches like-minded to himself. They
journeyed down the mighty river, now and again murdering one or another
of the party, on the least suspicion of their dislike to their
proceedings, and ill-treating the natives everywhere.
Aguirre was not ashamed to boast that he had murdered a woman--not an
Indian, but a beautiful Spanish lady, who had accompanied her lover on
this arduous journey. Donna Inez de Altienza, a young widow, fell
passionately in love with Ursua, who was brave, generous, and handsome;
and loath to part with him, she undertook the hitherto unheard-of
journey of thousands of miles in a strange and savage country. No fears
or terrors daunted this devoted woman until after the death of her
lover. Aguirre then picked a quarrel on the ground that her mattress was
too large for the boat, and she also was murdered. The Spanish poet,
Castellanos, thus laments the cruel deed:--
"The birds mourned on the trees;
The wild beasts of the forest lamented;
The waters ceased to murmur;
The fishes beneath the waters groaned;
The winds execrated the deed
When Llamoso cut the veins of her white neck.
Wretch! wert thou born of woman?
No! what beast could have such a wicked son?
How was it that thou didst not die
In imagining a treason so enormous?
Her two women, 'midst lamentation and grief,
Gathered flowers to cover her grave,
And cut her epitaph in the bark of a tree--
'These flowers cover one whose faithfulness
And beauty were unequalled,
Whom cruel men slew without a cause.'"
Whether Aguirre reached the mouth of the Amazon is doubtful--the
evidence is in favour of his getting out of that river into the Rio
Negro, and from thence into the Orinoco. However this may have been, he
arrived at last in the Gulf of Paria and proceeded to the island of
Margarita. Here, true to his character, he and his men commenced to
plunder and kill the inhabitants, going so far as to defy the local
authorities and even the king of Spain himself. To even enumerate the
deeds of this band of outlaws would fill a chapter, but we cannot omit
giving an extract from Aguirre's letter to his king, one of the most
curious productions ever written:--