The Islands of Unwisdom

by Robert Graves

  The common opinion of our soldiers was that these islands must be very fertile to breed such robust men and such graceful women, but were too small for our purpose. I heard Juan de la Isla, the merchant-venturer, remark to Don Alvaro: ‘Your Excellency, this would suit me very well, if there were more elbow room; but when I remember that Pizarro’s soldiers thought themselves ill-used if any of them was not awarded at least twenty-five thousand acres, I am glad that larger lands still lie before us.’ He added, that since neither gold nor silver had been seen even among the Chieftain’s ornaments, it might be concluded that none was to be had; and that we should spend no more time there than might be needed for taking on water and fire-wood, and whatever fresh fruit was to be found.

  The General, whom the Chief Pilot had implored to grant the islanders the priceless gift of salvation, did not agree. He said that it would be greatly to our advantage, and to the King’s, to plant a small settlement hereabouts, to be held as a base whither we could return if anything went amiss. The natives could be made amenable to Christian discipline, and with their help we might lay up a store of dry provisions and perhaps build a ship-yard, a rope-walk and a manufactory of sail-cloth; they were of a friendly disposition, quite unlike the warriors of the Isles of Solomon, who had greeted him everywhere with open hostility, and though these were good slings-men they seemed to have no knowledge of the bow. With this in mind he called the Colonel, who was now fairly recovered, and ordered him to go next day in the long-boat with twenty soldiers to find a harbour in Santa Cristina which could be used as a watering place; but not to permit them to use arms, unless they were provoked beyond reason.

  Since the Chief Pilot was to be of the party, I asked and was given leave to accompany him.

  Chapter 9

  THE COLONEL SEEKS A HARBOUR

  It was with some anxiety that I took my seat in the stern of the long-boat beside the Chief Pilot. The Colonel was in a wilful mood, and if he provoked the natives, a sling-bolt or a spear might kill me as effectually as any weapon of deadlier make. I had examined one of the spears flung aboard, which had passed through the skirt of the Chaplain’s cassock and pinned him to the mizzen-mast; it was tipped with the sharp spine of a sting-ray. As for the bolts, the spinning motion imparted to them by the sling made them travel point-foremost with sufficient force to spill a man’s brains. I concealed my fears, however, and offered a silent prayer to my protectress, Our Lady Macarena of Seville.

  Sailors of the Chief Pilot’s watch rowed us towards the coast and when we came near enough to distinguish the faces of the islanders, who came running from all directions to gaze and shout, nine canoes appeared from the east and rapidly overhauled us. Their crews took up spears as soon as they saw us and circled around with cries of defiance; it may be that they had already been informed of the massacre at La Magdalena, which for such speedy craft was less than a day’s sail away.

  ‘Attention!’ sang out the Colonel. ‘Give fire when I raise my hat!’

  In anticipation of such an encounter, the Chief Pilot had provided himself with a white kerchief; and now, not asking permission, he rose and waved it at the natives, who ceased yelling and laid their spears down. Happening to turn around, the Colonel saw the kerchief and in a grand passion asked Pedro Fernandez who, in the Devil’s name, was commanding the expedition?

  ‘None but yourself, my lord,’ he replied. ‘Yet I owe a duty to my unarmed crew, who must not be involved in needless fighting.’

  ‘Drop that rag at once, sirrah, that badge of cowardice!’ shouted the Colonel. ‘These circumcized dogs have offered us force, and with force they shall be met. It would ill befit a son of Saint James to refuse a war-like challenge!’

  He pushed his way down the boat, snatched the kerchief from the Chief Pilot’s hand and flung it overboard then, standing insecurely on a thwart, supported by the sergeant, he gestured to the natives, cocking his grey moustaches and waving his sword above his head. ‘Long live Saint James!’ he cried ferociously.

  They were surprised by our sudden change of front, but soon accommodated themselves to it. A tall, corpulent man with a white beard and sunshade, their Chieftain, shouted and brandished his spear fiercely in reply to the Colonel’s threats; and thus the Devil was let loose. Sling-bolts rattled against the boat’s side and the row of targes; the Colonel raised his hat; a volley rang out and seven natives fell dead. Of the rest, some leaped into the sea, while others paddled away at surprising speed. Among those who tried to save themselves by swimming was a man with a young boy in his arms, whose presence seemed to show that they had not sought us out with war-like intention; it is my belief that these natives were on their way home from the fisheries, because in the bottom of one canoe I caught sight of a seine-net glittering with small fish.

  One of our soldiers, Sebastian Lejia by name, took careful aim at the man swimming on his back with the child held before him, and sent both down in a swirl of blood. I covered my eyes and crossed myself. The Chief Pilot jumped up in disgust. ‘Who fired that shot?’ he cried furiously.

  ‘It was I,’ answered Sebastian. Then, ashamed at what he had done, he lamely excused himself: ‘Your honour must know that Hell receives those whom God has ordained to go there. Besides, I had my orders.’

  With the Colonel’s eye fixed balefully on him, Pedro Fernandez replied: ‘A soldier must obey his orders, but since the man was in the water, why did you not fire above his head?’

  ‘What? And lose my reputation as a marksman?’ he asked.

  ‘He had done you no harm,’ said the Chief Pilot, ‘yet with one shot you have robbed two precious souls of their chance of salvation. When you enter the gates of Hell, what advantage will it be that you can register yourself as a marksman? Our life on earth is brief; the life hereafter is eternal.’

  ‘Beware of inciting my men!’ growled the Colonel and went on to declare that the soldier need have nothing on his conscience; God loved frank dealing and straight shooting.

  He then gave orders for the boat to follow the canoes into the harbour where they had taken refuge. The Chief Pilot obeyed grimly. As we rounded the headland, he took a shrewd look at the anchorage and declared at once that it was not what Don Alvaro had in mind.

  ‘Are you saying this from a desire to quarrel with the Colonel?’ asked the Ensign-Royal, and pointed to a village in a green valley facing us, as proof that the port was a good one.

  Pedro Fernandez, keeping his patience, explained that the natives possessed no anchors, but hauled their canoes ashore at the close of every voyage; and that these, being of shallow draught, might go where no galleon could follow. The rocks with which—as the Ensign-Royal could himself see through the clear water—the bed of the harbour was strewn, offered no danger to canoe-men.

  The Colonel grew very hot at what he called the Chief Pilot’s stubbornness, who in his turn showed his resentment so openly that he was instructed to take us back at once to the San Geronimo, where a double complaint would be lodged against him with the General.

  We returned in silence, not encountering any more canoes, and Don Alvaro was called upon to mediate between the two angry men; which he did judiciously enough. The Chief Pilot, he decided, had been at fault both in displaying a flag of truce without the Colonel’s permission, and in correcting a soldier who had done no more than his duty; however, to give his opinion on the safety of an anchorage fell within his competence, provided he did not express himself disrespectfully.

  The Chief Pilot was not to be daunted. ‘Is this a licence for the shooting of little children?’ he asked. ‘Upon my soul, I never expected to hear your Excellency condone so horrid a crime; nor do I care who hears me say that plain murder was committed.’

  ‘Choose your words with greater care,’ said the General, ‘lest you force me to place you under restraint.’

  ‘And would you place me too under restraint?’ Doña Ysabel asked from her seat at the window, speaking in her softest voice. ‘I also say that it was murder
, Don Alvaro, and the Chief Pilot has shown Catholic valour in refusing to countenance it.’

  The General made a weak attempt at reconciliation, but neither party would budge from his views, and soon the Colonel left the Great Cabin with a slam of the door. When he reached his own quarters, a page informed him that he had nearly lost his little white bitch Carlotta; which made him angrier than before. While the whole ship’s company had been watching the skirmish from the port bulwarks or shrouds, two canoes had approached unobserved from the starboard side and some impudent natives who, from their colour, were thought to be of La Magdalena, had climbed stealthily aboard to raid the deck. They stole a linstock, a sewing-basket, and a soldier’s helmet, and might have escaped with their booty, had they not also tried to steal Carlotta. Now, the dogs of these islands, there called au-au, which resemble large rats with almost hairless hides and uncouth faces, never do more than whine or howl. When therefore one of the thieves unceremoniously picked up Carlotta by one ear to carry her off, and she bared her teeth and barked at him, they were dreadfully startled, jumped overboard with the linstock and the helmet, and escaped in their canoes before anyone could fire a shot at them. The Colonel took as a personal insult this attempt to kidnap the little creature, whom he had come to regard as his one true friend, and swore that it could be wiped out only with blood, and that he would never again leave her behind on a foray.

  That evening Matia, Juarez and I discussed the day’s happenings. I was able to do the junta certain small favours from time to time and had by now won their confidence.

  Matia said, spitting into the sea: ‘Sebastian’s a mule; whatever that man does, he does it wrong. He had orders to fire but, missing the volley, he should then have saved his powder and shot. There’s no sense in slaughter for slaughter’s sake once the battle is over: show the enemy your strength but don’t exasperate him. The Colonel would have given the son of a whore a good cursing, had the Chief Pilot not taken the words from his mouth. The day will come when Sebastian will wish he had that ball back in his pouch. I’ve known him for years now, patched pig that he is. He joined my company during the late troubles and the first time he set eyes on me he doffed his hat as if I were the Captain-General. “Could you, of your kindness, your honour, show me how to get a better shine on this breastplate?” he asked. “Why, yes, man,” said I. “Soap it well, and then drop it into the bleaching tub.” “My humble thanks,” said he, “I’m anxious to be neat and carve myself a good career in the army.” But, Lord, it was the funniest sight of my life to see him soap that breastplate like a lady’s shift; and afterwards he bleached it for three hours and hung it on a bush to dry.’

  ‘Ay, he’s a born fool,’ said Juarez, turning to me, ‘a priest’s bastard if ever there was one. But thank God for fools; he brought a tidy package of coin with him from Lima, and three-quarters of it is already safe in our pockets. Only a simpleton like Sebastian would fancy himself as a pontoon-player; somehow, when he plays with us, his aces and court-cards fly off as if by witchcraft, and leave him all at sixes and sevens…. I wonder whether your honour has one more drop of that excellent Malvasia you asked us to sample last night? By the bread of God which He made in His own image and likeness, I never tasted better wine in my life!’

  Next morning the Colonel was instructed to complete his mission and this time the Boatswain’s mate with his watch took the party out. At Don Alvaro’s request I went again, though with stronger foreboding than before. He had done me the honour of saying in private that I had a good pair of eyes in my head and would be more likely to render a faithful account of what I saw than either a soldier or a sailor, whose judgement might be warped by prejudice.

  The Colonel led us back to the port which Pedro Fernandez had rejected, and we landed. How the ground seemed to quake under me, after the many weeks I had spent at sea, and how fresh and pungent came the island scents! Leaving three arquebusiers to guard the boat, the Colonel marched the remainder of his force up the beach and surrounded the village. This consisted of some forty narrow huts, spaced well apart, and thatched with palm-leaves, each hut being surrounded by a neat fence of canes and perched on a separate stone terrace. Large bamboo uprights, with wooden cross-pieces lashed to them, formed the frames; the roofs were less steeply pitched in front than at the rear, where they touched the ground; the doors, between carved posts, were very low and slid in grooves, but some huts had none, the whole front being open to the air. My eye was taken by a large decorated store-house, and an assembly-house fully fifty paces long.

  The inhabitants laughed and chattered as though what we did were no concern of theirs, gazing at us with wonder and admiration; they reminded me of our peasants at home when army engineers come to a village and mark out an encampment. The Colonel posted piquets in the flanks and in the rear, and when the water-jars, which the sailors had carried up from the beach, were ranged in a neat row, he scratched a line behind them with the point of his stick. Then he clapped his hands and beckoned to the natives, who came shyly forward, men, women and children, to the number of about three hundred, and examined the jars with interest; they had never before seen pottery, all their vessels being of coconut-shell or gourds or wood. He made them a speech, with gesticulations several times repeated, to the effect that they must not pass across the line on pain of death, and that he required them to bring water to fill the jars.

  They were a clean and friendly people; the foetid smell of unwashed bodies to which my nostrils had never wholly accustomed themselves in the forecastle and between-decks of the San Geronimo, was absent here. Their village was neat and well-kept, no rotting garbage littered the ground to breed flies, and many flowers and ornamental bushes had been planted about the huts. The elder women were tattooed from head to foot and I noticed several crones on whom the blue markings had faded to an ugly green; but the younger ones, like those of La Magdalena, had only narrow ribbons tattooed on their shoulders and three small dots on each lip, and were of a ravishing beauty. All wore short white skirts and, a few of them, flowing white cloaks as a protection against the sun, but shifts were unknown. They adorned their hair, cut short at the neck, with the fine scentless flowers which, because of their scarlet colour, we named ‘cardinals.’

  When the Colonel had finished speaking, the villagers ran off and presently fetched us coconut shells filled with water, emptying them into the jars; and large, intricately woven baskets heaped with delicious fruit, resembling apples, which they gave us to eat.

  The soldiers were chagrined because the Colonel kept them from intercourse with the young women, who looked at them with dark, languishing eyes and tried to seduce them from duty. Their sergeant begged him to mollify them by recalling those sailors who had already yielded to temptation. He did so, and two or three who took their time about returning were afterwards soundly flogged by the Boatswain’s mate but thought this a slight price to pay for their pleasure. I heard one of them say, laughing: ‘By the Virgin, our Pancha will have to get her corn in before the rains come. Once shore leave is granted, she’ll be lucky to earn seven maravedis a week.’ The girls were passionate and did all for love, unlike the mercenary women of Lima, whom they exceeded both in beauty and performance.

  Several jars had been filled, a few cupfuls at a time, with much laughter and by-play, when the Colonel, growing impatient, ordered the natives to carry the remainder to the spring from which they fetched the water. Because of some superstition, they would not obey him: pretending to shiver, they made signs that we were to carry them there ourselves. The Colonel drew his sword and threatened them, whereupon they shouldered four jars and ran away, in the opposite direction, taking them to a hut with a high, steep roof, like an obelisk. We afterwards found this to be their temple, where offerings of food were made to an ill-carved idol with a bulbous nose and fat arms crossed upon his breast, who stood between two enormous wooden drums. I suppose that they carried the jars there to beg his permission to fill them at the spring, but the Colonel, seeing
his order disobeyed, commanded a piquet to give fire. When the smoke cleared, we saw that one had dropped dead at the entrance to the temple and another was hit in the shoulder, the joint being shattered.

  The villagers stood as if fastened to the ground, appalled by the noise of the volley and the screams of the wounded man; then, with one accord, they fled up the ravine like goats. By the time that the arquebuses had been recharged not a soul was to be seen, and the Colonel, laughing heartily, asked the Boatswain’s mate to see that the jars, full or empty, were carried down to the boat.

  He went to inspect the village, Carlotta barking at his heels. Being my own master, I followed his example and entered one of the huts, crawling in by the low door. When my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I saw that it contained neither stools, chests nor tables, but resembled a Peruvian slave barracks, except in its cleanliness. The front part was paved with smooth, flat stones, the back was taken up by a single long couch spread with dry grass and woven mats of varied patterns; a polished palm-log served for the head, another for the foot. From the roof hung parcels, wrapped in white cloth and secured by a line thrown over the ridge-pole; above the couch hung spears, javelins, clubs carved with human faces, and baskets of sling-bolts. I was loath to open any of the parcels or handle the weapons; these were savages, but enough injury had been done them already, without the addition of discourtesy. Moved by a sudden impulse, I untied the small crucifix which I wore around my neck and fastened it to a peg above the door, so that they should not be left with only evil memories of us.