by Jacob Nelson
The crown needed gold and he was the man to get it for them.
However, as Christopher took over his earlier post, he found that one of the men who had been with him in the earlier voyages had revolted. The man accused them of being pirates and exposed the smelter as evidence of the fact. Because of the many accusations against him and his brother, many of the Spanish settlers of the new colony were discontent, having felt that they had been misled by Christopher about the supposed bountiful riches of the New World.
Christopher needed to control the disintegrating situation and counseled with his brothers. In the end, a few of the crew attacked Christopher’s home and killed some of his servants, for which he had some of his crew hanged in punishment.
Too quickly, paradise wasn’t paradise. Christopher found himself repeatedly accused of being tyrannical, even to the point that they called him the ‘Tyrant of the Caribbean’.
Wracked by arthritis and physically and mentally exhausted, he decided to appeal for help. In October of 1499, he sent two ships to Spain, asking Cortes Generales of Castile to appoint a royal commissioner to help him govern.
The response came quickly. Cortes appointed Francisco de Bobadilla, a member of the Order of Calatrava; however, this newly appointed servant of the crown had been given more authority that stretched far beyond what Columbus had requested. Bobadilla was given total control as governor.
On August 23, 1500 Francisco de Bobadilla arrived in Santo Domingo while Columbus was away, and Bobadilla immediately received many serious complaints about the three Columbus brothers.
The testimonies came from 23 people who had seen or heard of the smelters and had been convinced the pirate gold that was hidden from them somewhere on the island. But greed was not something that would be tolerated by anyone, so they formed a pact saying that they had seen or heard about the treatment meted out by Columbus and his brothers.
As a result of these testimonies and without being allowed a word in his own defense, Columbus, upon his return to the island, had manacles placed on his arms and chains on his feet.
There he was cast into prison to await return to Spain. As he was arrested he smiled to himself. ‘Time for the pardon papers.’
The year was 1500 when Christopher Columbus was arrested and supplanted from his posts. On October 1, Columbus and his brothers, likewise in chains, were sent back to Spain.
Christopher and his brothers bore the imprisonment with dignity. Columbus refused to have his shackles removed during the course of his voyage to Spain, and used the time to pen a long letter to Dona Juana de la Torre, the aya of Prince Juan, a lady high in favor with Queen Isabel.
Once in Cádiz, he sent the letter via Andreas Martin, the captain of the caravel, who permitted him to send it off privately by express. It arrived, therefore, before the protocol of the proceedings instituted by Bobadilla.
The letter read:
“It is now seventeen years since I came to serve these princes with the Enterprise of the Indies. They made me pass eight of them in discussion, and at the end rejected it as a thing of jest. Nevertheless I persisted therein... Over there I have placed under their sovereignty more land than there is in Africa and Europe, and more than 1,700 islands... In seven years I, by the divine will, made that conquest. At a time when I was entitled to expect rewards and retirement, I was incontinently arrested and sent home loaded with chains... The accusation was brought out of malice on the basis of charges made by civilians who had revolted and wished to take possession on the land.... I beg your graces, with the zeal of faithful Christians in whom their Highnesses have confidence, to read all my papers, and to consider how I, who came from so far to serve these princes... now at the end of my days have been despoiled of my honor and my property without cause, wherein is neither justice nor mercy.”
The tidings of his arrival, and of the ignominious manner in which he had been brought, reached the court at Granada and filled the halls of the Alhambra with murmurs of astonishment long before Christopher himself arrived on scene.
But Christopher and his brothers were not done with their trials. There they lingered in jail for six weeks before ‘busy’ King Ferdinand ordered their release. Finally, they were summoned before the king and queen at the Alhambra palace in Granada.
Christopher, Bartholomew and Giacomo found that a number of returned settlers and friars (those that hoped to get in on some of the pirate wealth) were there as well. Testimonies were lobbied against Columbus, accusing him of mismanagement. Only a small number of them were from the original colony, the rest being representatives of the families from across the sea. According to the twenty-three witnesses during his trial, Columbus regularly used acts of violence to govern Hispaniola.
Then Christopher’s letter was brought to play. A courtier read the letter and handed it over to the King to be examined.
Finally, it was the defendants turn to speak.
“Your majesties, I come here under duress.” He began. "I was judged," he observed, "as a governor who had been sent to take charge of a well-regulated city, under the dominion of well-established laws, where there was no danger of everything running to disorder and ruin; but I ought to be judged as a captain, sent to subdue a numerous and hostile people, of manners and religion opposite to ours, living not in regular towns, but in forests and mountains. It ought to be considered that I have brought all these under subjection to their majesties, giving them dominion over another world, by which Spain, heretofore poor, has suddenly become rich. Whatever errors I may have fallen into, they were not with an evil intention; and I believe their majesties will credit what I say. I have known them to be merciful to those who have willfully done them disservice; I am convinced that they will have still more indulgence for me, who have erred innocently, or by compulsion, as they will hereafter be more fully informed; and I trust they will consider my great services, the advantages of which are every day more and more apparent."
Then turning to Bartholomew, who nodded to the alcalde of Cádiz, he turned back to the royal couple and continued, “I am here, your majesties, as one that was brought low. Yet even in my lowest hour I come to present you with a gift. An item that my brother Bartholomew and I recovered from a band of murderous cutthroats that share not the standards of the court… An item that I feel may be of great worth to you. If it so pleases your Majesties…”
With nimble steps the alcalde walked forward with a small chest in his arms covered in purple silk adorned with gold cord.
Approaching the queen, he knelt before her with the covered box and awaited her removal of the covering.
The Queen eyes went from curiosity to open surprise to a sharp realization of the box and hope for the contents therein. Gingerly opening the box, she peeked inside and then swinging it fully open, she lifted out the brooch inside. Her eyes misted over as she held it up to inspect the item.
The King looked on with bemused curiosity, while Christopher and Bartholomew exchanged carefully concealed glances of smug delight.
“Is it yours, our Highness?” asked Christopher innocently.
“It belonged to my mother, Queen Isabel of Portugal.” She replied, attempting to control her emotion.
“I am pleased that I was able to return it to you.”
Subsequently, they were released. All rights and possessions were returned to them with the exception of governor. Christopher Columbus re-acquired his grand title: Admiral of the Seas. Bartholomew received a new title; Lord of Ámona—an island near Santo Domingo.
…But the men that discovered the smelting operation weren’t through with them.
Chapter 15
...1515…
“Sawasdee Khrap.” With hands pressed together, fingertips pointing upwards, Christopher Standish bowed his head to touch his face to his hands. Now a trader, the young Kit had become a man, and as a man had shed his youthful nickname.
“Sawasdee Khrap,” responded King Somdet Phra Ramathibodi II of Anachak Ayutthaya. Having per
formed the traditional Thai greeting of the wai, in which they had showed respect and reverence to each other, the king continued, “How is my young friend?”
“I am well, Highness,” he responded. “May I inquire the same of you?”
“I am well,” he responded attempting to mimic Christopher.
“Your English is much improved, majesty.”
“Meu Português é ainda melhor,” the king responded.
Christopher smiled. “Indeed it is! Has Duarte been around lately? Or have you been practicing with the common folk?”
The king’s eyes twinkled as he merrily laughed. “Sometimes,” he admitted, leaving Christopher to wonder which of the two he meant.
Now it was Christopher’s turn to laugh. He couldn’t imagine the king walking among commoners and not being recognized. His shaved head, costly apparel and straight spine spoke volumes that would give him away instantly.
“It appears I must sail this way more often,” replied Christopher, in a teasing tone. “Perhaps then your English would be grander than your Portuguese.” The friendship that had budded between them was a rich one.
“English… Portuguese… It is the same. It is the people that count! So what did you collect from us this time? Just rice?” asked the king, knowing that Christopher had a full ship and was ready to sail; hence the reason for the visit.
The change in conversation threw Christopher off a bit. “I have collected a little of everything, Your Highness. Are you interested?”
“Please, show me.” The king loved to walk around on the sailing ships, and whenever safe invitation allowed it, he made certain to do so. Christopher simply considered it the graciousness of a good host.
“After you,” Christopher said as he stepped aside and bowed while the king entered. The ship was well stocked.
Christopher had made a great trade. Among the many riches that he was bringing back were benzoin—a type of incense, eaglewood—an aromatic wood, gumlac—used as wax, and sapanwood—a wood which produces reddish dye.
However, the largest provisions were twofold: rice and tin. The tin came from Phuket (Junkceylon) and Nakhon Si Thammarat (Ligor) which was much sought after by traders throughout Europe.
“You are well stocked. But perhaps you are missing something?”
Christopher looked somewhat confused. The confusion shortly vanished. The king snapped his fingers and four large servants came forward bearing gifts: elephant tusks and rhinoceros horns… which were highly valued exports. The former was strictly by the graces of the king, while the latter was relatively rare. Both would bring in high prices.
Christopher was left speechless. “I know not what to say, Your Highness. Thank you seems much too simple for such kindness.”
The king waved it away and left it with a smile. Then, letting the smile fade a bit into consternation, he added, “Which brings me to the second reason for my visit, my friend. I am worried for you. There has been an increase in pirate attacks lately. They call themselves the Singh Brotherhood. You must be prepared.”
“Thank you your highness. I will watch for them…”
The return from Ayutthaya was without incident. The trading went very well, and the warning of the pirates seemed unfounded.
Yet something seemed to hang over him throughout the entire journey. Christopher passed it off as just nerves from knowing that Miya was home pregnant. Even now, she was approaching the birth date.
Assuming everything went well, he expected to arrive in plenty of time to be there for the advent of his child.
Stops were made, items traded, each one making Christopher a little richer, a bit more prepared for the economic ebbs and tides that come to everyone.
By late November, he was finally able to see the English coast. He was excited to see if his father had arrived yet. He was due in for the blessed event, promising that he wouldn’t miss it for anything.
As his ship sailed into Portsmouth harbor, he quickly searched out his father’s ship, but it was nowhere to be seen. However, any thoughts of his father were quickly forgotten in the course of unloading his wares. When opportunity presented itself, he made his way home via carriage, looking forward to seeing his wife Miya again.
As Christopher approached his home, a man in a black wool coat separated himself from the side of the building closest to the entrance of the Standish house. As he approached Christopher he called out, “Christopher Columbus? Son of Bartholomew Columbus?”
“Yes, that is I,” replied Christopher. “How may I be of service, my good man?”
“I’m afraid I come bearing ill news.” The man hesitated a moment and then continued, “Your father Bartholomew, Lord of Ámona, has been killed. I do not know all the details, save that he was beaten and transported to Santo Domingo where he died.” He looked to see how Christopher was taking the news.
“Thank you,” whispered Christopher.
“I’m so sorry, sir… If there is something I can do for you or your family…”
“No, forgive me my manners. Please come inside. Warm yourself…” began Christopher, trying to use custom to overcome grief.
“No thank you sir. Your missus has already received the news and taken care of my needs. I’m so sorry, sir…” Then, replacing his hat, he faded back into the darkness.
As Christopher entered his home, Miya hugged and kissed him. She recognized that he had received the news of his father’s untimely death, and made no attempt to say anything. She just held onto him as they both wept in each other’s arms.
She was nearly eight months pregnant, and with a firm round belly, her belly button already showing through her gown.
She knew as well as he did the immense love Christopher shared with his father, and though she would have understood if he had decided to leave for the Island of Ámona, she selfishly and fervently hoped that he would not leave her side; as such a trip would take three months in each direction.
Christopher answered her unvoiced fear, “I feel I need to see him…,” he began, as Miya’s heart fell, “but I know that he is gone, and soon we will have life to replace the death that has lodged within my heart. I love you Miya. I love you. Let us wait until this child comes, and then I’ll make my journey.”
The day came on the 19th of January, 1516. On that day in Portsmouth, England, young Christopher Columbus Jr. of Standish was born. His parents simply called him Kit, after his father’s boyhood nickname.
The following week, Christopher left for the New World, for the island of Hispaniola. There he sailed to Santo Domingo, burial place of his father.
Santo Domingo, was the first seat of Spanish colonial rule in the New World. Located on the Caribbean Sea, at the mouth of the Ozama River, it was the city of Bartholomew Columbus; as he founded it in 1496. But to his son Christopher, it now appeared to also be the fated city of his father’s resting place. It was with tears in his eyes that he sailed into port.
As Christopher stood over his father’s grave, close by, within a tavern, stood a thin, scraggly, bearded man. The man appeared to be watching the storm build from just within the doorway, but in reality he was watching Christopher.
Christopher wept; then he wiped the tears from his eyes and, having looked up, caught sight of the man in the doorway. He didn’t like the way the man intently watched him, only to disappear inside as he looked up. Knowing that his father was beaten until death, murdered, he decided to see who this stranger was.
Christopher walked to the tavern and entered the dingy establishment as the rain began to pound the ground outside. The thatched roof muffled the raindrops but the open window area allowed the cooler wind to pass through the place, catching clothing in its path, whipping shirts and sleeves.
The owner of the establishment looked over as Christopher entered, and called out a simple greeting while ending with, “What can I get you? Wine? Ron? Maybe some grog?”
“Nothing,” replied Christopher allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. “No, on
second thought, I could really use some water.”
“Water?”
“Yes, water. I am so thirsty,” replied Christopher.
“Not a drinking man?” asked the owner.
“Never have been. Seems to run in my family.”
The words caught the owner by surprise and without thinking he said, “Are you Bartholomew Columbus’ son?” He regretted it immediately. The look on Christopher’s face was answer enough. “Here, let me get you some guava juice,” and with that he quickly hurried off.
Christopher heard the door close and, looking out the open window, saw the man he had seen before as the stranger hurried down the path.
As the owner returned with the guava juice, Kit pointed out the retreating back of the stranger and asked who he was.
“I knows his name is Pierre. He comes in often enough. Has a liking for the local Ron.”
“Ron?” inquired Christopher.
“A local drink made from fermented sugar cane. Very sweet, but leaves a bad headache.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Him? Maybe about a year on and off. He showed up just before your father passed away… I’m sorry. Did you just arrive?”
“I did,” replied Christopher, staring at his guava juice.
“There is a place in town that gives out cots to strangers. Um, if you need it,” the man noted Christopher’s finery and guessed he might be the captain of his own ship. Still, even captains like to sleep on land on occasion.
“No, thank you. But I would like to visit that place shortly just in case I change my mind. So what did you hear about my father’s death?”
The question caught the other man off guard. “I, I remember that he came here not looking too good…” began the man unwilling to commit himself.
“I know that he was murdered, or at least beaten to the point that he could not recover; which to me is the same thing,” Christopher interjected.
“Aye, he was murdered,” agreed the owner. Satisfied that Christopher was somewhat in the know and willing to accept things as they were, he continued, “talk around the town was that someone believed he had a smelter and pirate gold. My guess is that someone decided to try to find out where he kept the gold; if he even had any…” he looked at Christopher as he added this, in a way that suggested that Christopher deny it, “…and killed him in the process.”
