The Islands of Unwisdom

by Robert Graves

  The pages had ceased to sing their familiar ditties; matins or vespers there were none; and our only spiritual comfort was the daily Salve, Regina croaked to Our Lady of Solitude, who still presided at our sprung mainmast; though her silken finery had rotted in the sun and rain and the gold leaf had peeled from the Infant’s locks, she smiled hopefully down at us and seemed to promise salvation if we endured to the end. But the sailors no longer set much store by their lives. They told Damian that neither God nor the King required the impossible of them: they would rather die once than many times and might as well close their eyes, fold their arms and let the ship go to the bottom.

  ‘This is where I drop my rope-end and take up a whip,’ answered he, ‘though I once prided myself that my tongue had sufficient lash to it. Neglect your duty, lads, and by God, I’ll soon bring you howling to your knees, you asses, you eunuchs, you soldiers!’—which was his word of greatest contempt.

  An apprentice said sobbing: ‘If you won’t let me die here in peace, cruel Valencian, I’ll leap overboard.’

  ‘Then the Devil will take you, body and soul!’ Damian replied.

  ‘What do I care? Hell can be little worse than this.’

  Pedro Fernandez, coming up, looked at the men with compassion. He seemed calmer now that he had been disillusioned about the Governeress yet at the same time given renewed hope that Doña Ana might still be alive. One of the sailors, a good top-man when in health, told him: ‘Your honour knows better than anyone that it isn’t heart we lack, but muscle. While we starve, you dine at the common table. Earn our love by going to Doña Ysabel; ask her for food.’

  ‘But how would you pay? You have no money and are entitled to none until we dock at Manila.’

  ‘That is so, but we’re entitled to our rations—substantial ones, too. We aren’t greedy, your honour, but it’s common knowledge that there’s still plenty in her private store: oil, wine, lentils, flour, sugar and all. She fattens three pigs with the left-overs from her table, and has water and meal enough to keep her brindled calf in good coat. It’s downright evil to throw to beasts what would support the lives of Christians. Doesn’t she know that she’s slowly killing us? A week ago the Colonel’s white bitch went into our pot and, though she had tasted human flesh, we ate her, head, guts and all.’

  ‘Brave hearts, I have pleaded with the Governeress over and over again, but she will not listen.’

  ‘Then tell her we’ll give pledges for anything she cares to sell us. She can deduct the value from our pay when it’s due. We shan’t quarrel with the price—the higher she pitches it the better we’ll be pleased. If we take our case before the Governor-General, he’s bound to tear up our pledges and try her for usury.’

  ‘You talk too much, man! Nevertheless, I’ll go to her once more.’

  ‘Tell her,’ the apprentice called after him, ‘that the day will come when she’ll need our help, and then we’ll remember how she’s treated us.’

  He knocked at the door of the Great Cabin and was admitted. Doña Ysabel was glad to see that his manner to her was now curt and distant. Lately she had feared that he might shame her in her brothers’ presence by hints at what had passed between them; if that happened, she would be forced to clap him in irons as a madman and continue the voyage with no better pilot than Don Luis. She deigned to unbend a little and even to smile frostily at him as she asked: ‘Well, friend, and what do you want of me?’

  ‘Food and water for the crew, if it please your Excellency.’

  ‘I have already four times refused that same demand; tell me something that I have not heard before.’

  ‘Very well: until today I have vainly appealed to your charity, now I appeal to your love of a bargain.’

  Doña Ysabel raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘Come, this promises to be interesting. What is it you offer?’

  ‘Your life, in exchange for a few victuals. My men cannot be made to work even with whips. They will all be dead by New Year’s Day unless you feed them, and the ship left to drift up and down with the tides.’

  ‘You rascal! Your duty is to serve me, not to curry favour with that scum.’

  She watched him closely, to reassure herself that he contemplated no revenge, but he answered scornfully: ‘You can count on me to keep my station and do whatever I am ordered, within reason at least.’

  ‘In that case, you will kindly hang a couple of the ring-leaders from the yard-arm, as an example to the rest.’

  ‘And leave myself even fewer men? I said “within reason,” your Excellency. My task is to sail this ship wherever you direct, but I must have a crew.’

  She sent for the Purser, whom she instructed to fetch two small jars of olive-oil and have them taken forward under guard. Then she told Pedro Fernandez: ‘Henceforth you may eat with the sailors whom you love so dearly: I cannot afford to feed pilot and crew as well.’

  ***

  The next day, while the griddle-cakes were cooking on the ashes of the galley-fire, the junta played a game called ‘Let’s all be cooks together.’

  ‘Who’ll be the cook?’ began Juarez.

  ‘We’ll all be cooks together!’ the others replied in chorus.

  ‘But I dispose,’ said he. ‘Yesterday Jaume fobbed us off with a meagre Majorcan bread-soup, though I was hungrier than Our Saviour on the mountain-top. Today it’ll be preparation-stew, such as Cathedral canons eat on Shrove Tuesday to give them a good shove through Lent. Last night I remembered to soak the chick-peas and the salted pig’s face. It’s Matia’s turn to do the marketing: hey, take this list, and a negro with a big grape-basket! Jaume, light the fire, and fetch me two great earthenware pots—if you bring me copper or iron cauldrons, I’ll lop off your ears, so help me God!’

  ‘Since I’m to be the errand-boy,’ said Matia, ‘and Jaume our scullion, you must turn butler and set good wine before us.’

  ‘With all my heart,’ he replied. ‘I spoke with the vintner this very morning. Off with you, laggards!’

  ‘Here now, old cock,’ said Jaume after a pause, ‘are your pots, well-rinsed, and firmly set on the trivets. I bought the fuel at the breaker’s yard—ship’s timber that burns a salty blue—I’ll blow the flames and fan them with my hat, so! Ah, here’s Matia again; how the negro trembles under the weight of his basket! Quick, man, unload, we’re ravenous. What luck?’

  ‘I have done well, bullies,’ answered Matia. ‘Praise me! Finding no capon in the market, I chose a tender young turkey of twenty-five pounds’ weight; and then had to double my other purchases to keep the proportions true. But no matter; we can now invite Don Andrés to join our feast, if he’ll eat with common soldiers.’

  ‘I am honoured, gentlemen,’ said I. ‘But do not let me stand idle. Let’s all be cooks together!’

  ‘Then you may provide the afterclap,’ Juarez told me. ‘A little marzipan of Sicily with candied cherries. Meanwhile stand over the flesh-pot and remove the scum with this ladle. Hey, lads, is that turkey not yet gutted? …Look alive, now stuff it with chestnuts, bread, and its own liver! So, so! I begin with the beans and the pig’s face. Into the left-hand pot with them.’

  ‘Here comes the turkey to keep them company,’ said Matia. ‘It’s as fat as the King of France’s daughter. And four fine steaks.’

  ‘And a slab of green bacon,’ Jaume chimed in, ‘with a head of garlic and two little Chile peppers. Don Andrés, your ladle! We’ll let the pot boil at a wallop for as long as you might say a Credo, a Paternoster and a Salve, Regina; then it must simmer with a gentle heat, well-stirred, for a matter of five hours. But, Lord, I had nearly forgotten the red sausage! Come, lads, a game of pontoon while we wait! The winner disposes at tomorrow’s banquet.’

  ‘How time flies!’ said I, pointing aloft. ‘It’s past noon already.’

  ‘So late, my lucky lads?’ cried Juarez. ‘Hurry the vegetables! Here are turnips, carrots, cabbages, celery, hare’s ear and red amaranths. Scrape, scrape, cut, cut! Jaume, throw them into this colander and ri
nse them in the stream!’

  ‘At your orders, my Lord Chief Butler! Meanwhile, Matia, you prince of all adulterers, chop me this garlic and slice these onions, and weep copiously for your sins. A few sweet potatoes would not come amiss, nor a generous shield of pumpkin.’

  ‘Here’s our right-hand pot bubbling,’ said Matia. ‘No, it’s too full! Jaume, lad, fling away half the water! Is there salt? Now cast in the vegetables in due order of precedence: first my Lord Garlic and my Lady Onion, then the good knights Sir Carrot and Sir Turnip, then Dame Cabbage and the rest—the valet Lettuce can wait till the last.’

  ‘With your permission,’ I ventured courteously, ‘let me add two sharp-tasting Ronda apples, thinly sliced, also a touch of saffron. And what say you, Juarez, to a sprig of rosemary?’

  ‘No, never: keep your rosemary for the Devil’s funeral! But I’ll thank you to remember the cuckold’s friend, Goodwife Parsley. Stay: bruise her in the mortar first!’

  Both pots were kept well-stirred and their seething contents frequently tasted from the ladle. While Juarez saw to the wine, which was the very best Malaga, the rest of us took hold of a huge, boat-shaped silver dish, ready warmed and, having strained the vegetables dry, spread them over it. We then laid the turkey amidships; the pig’s face on a coil of sausages in the bows; the beefsteak and bacon in the stern. Lord, how the junta ate and drank, sniffing the savoury steam with widened nostrils! The mouldy, bitter griddle-cakes, set reeking before them in a breastplate, were transubstantiated; and so was the nauseous water in the pannikins at their sides.

  When they had done, I said: ‘Why, gentlemen, I almost forgot the afterclap,’ and rose to fetch it from my cabin. To their amazement I returned with marzipan of Sicily, as I had been ordered to do, cut each a generous slice, and took my leave quickly to avoid being questioned or thanked.

  The gift was tutao cake from Santa Cristina which I had hitherto kept securely locked in Miguel Llano’s sea-chest. My string of brass buttons had bought me half a hundredweight of that hearty confection. One-third of it I now set aside for charity, and another third I kept for myself. The remainder I presented to Pedro Fernandez, who was loth to accept it, until I told him severely: ‘This is for the Chief Pilot, on whose health our lives depend, not for one Pedro Fernandez, a shiftless and talkative Portuguese.’

  ***

  The soldiers and settlers complained no less than the crew; though they had little to do but keep alive. When Jaume brought up their morning’s ration of water, Sergeant Andrada supervised its distribution with drawn sword; and the Chief Pilot likewise stood by when the sailors’ ration was drawn.

  On the day after the Governeress had doled out the oil, Myn went below, an empty pitcher on his shoulder, and found Sergeant Andrada and the Chief Pilot waiting for Jaume to unlock the door that gave access to the water. The Sergeant was grumbling that he would gladly exchange this life for a death sentence in a Christian dungeon, where at least he might die with his thirst quenched, his stomach full, and a priest to give him absolution; or even for a bench in a Turkish galley, where he could still cherish hope of rescue or ransom. He interrupted his lament to ask Myn why he had brought so large a pitcher. ‘Oh,’ said he, ‘Myn often comes here to draw water for to wash my Lady’s linen; old Jaume he doesn’t like it, yet obey he must or Myn will use his axe, like as he chopped off the Ensign’s head.’

  ‘So she washes her soiled shifts in our life’s blood!’ cried Andrada. ‘Can such things be?’

  No sooner had Jaume appeared than the Chief Pilot snatched the key from him and went straight to the Great Cabin, where the officers were waiting for breakfast to be served.

  ‘Pray pardon me if I disturb you,’ he said to Doña Ysabel, ‘but you would do well to speak sharply to your maids. They have sent the negro below to draw water for your laundering. Since he threatened the water-steward with his axe, I took away the key to prevent bloodshed.’

  ‘Myn is obeying my orders, not the maids’. Do you think that I intend to rot good clothes by soaking them in brine, or to wear foul linen? The pitcher must be filled at once, and let there be no more argument!’

  He checked his rising rage. ‘I should have thought that your Excellency would be a deal more sparing of water.’

  ‘Cannot I do as I please with my own property?’ she screamed at him.

  ‘You will recall the benediction which Our Saviour conferred upon a cup of cold water given in His name….’

  Don Diego measured a cupful from the jug standing on the table and tossed it in his face. ‘May His benediction fall upon me,’ he jeered.

  Wiping the drops from his eyes and leaving God to avenge the blasphemy, Pedro Fernandez continued: ‘Already some of the soldiers complain that you wash your clothes in their life’s blood.’

  ‘And do you uphold them in this?’ she asked, gripping the table-edge and narrowing her eyes.

  ‘Indeed, no! I am still expecting you to display righteous anger.’

  ‘Well, you had better tell them that you have been mistaken. Have you more to say?’

  ‘I could say much, were I not the last man in the world to sit in judgement on your Excellency. But let me warn you that starving men have been known to help themselves.’

  ‘I thank you for that warning, at least. Here, hand me the key! And, Myn, go to the Purser and ask him for the key of the store-room. In future, I’ll wear both on my girdle.’

  ‘The men are still waiting for water.’

  ‘They would have received it by now, had you not come here with your maundering insolence. Let them wait until I have breakfasted.’

  News of this interview soon spread through the ship. Sergeant Andrada sought out Pedro Fernandez, and asked: ‘What shall we do with this Jezebel? My men are all for overpowering the guard and breaking into the aftercastle to seize her hoard of food. I can’t control them much longer. Since they finished my pig for me, weeks ago it seems, three children have died of hunger, and the corpses that we throw to the sharks all lack their livers and kidneys—the Colonel’s negro, for one, knows how to look after himself.’

  Pedro Fernandez, going again to the Great Cabin after dinner, found the Governeress alone. He went up to her without ceremony. ‘I am aware, sweetheart,’ he said with bitter irony, ‘that you intend to goad me into rebellion. You are ashamed of what we did together, and my presence is an odious reminder of your mismating. I am also aware that you lied about that message from my brother-in-law; and that you are in child by me, may God forgive us both!’

  She rose from her chair and opened her mouth as if to scream, but he thrust her down by the shoulders, and said: ‘Hear me out! Your sister on her death-bed entrusted a sealed letter to one of the ship’s company—but whether to a soldier or a sailor, I cannot say. I am told that it contains a circumstantial account of two murders which you inspired, and of other crimes not less discreditable. This letter will be handed to me in your presence a week after we reach Manila, but if I am no longer alive, it will be delivered to the Governor-General, with a request that your brothers be acquainted with the contents.’

  She stared up at him inscrutably, as he continued: ‘Doña Mariana planned this to ensure our safe arrival in the Philippines. She knew that otherwise your brother Diego’s knife, sharpened by you, would soon stick between my shoulder-blades, and that the ship must then be written off as lost. When I receive this letter, I shall make no use of it but pass it to you unread.’

  ‘Cunningly contrived by Mariana,’ she replied softly. ‘Well, I own that I did not always treat her as a sister should, and this is her revenge. Now I shall have to search the whole vessel for the letter, and when it is found, hang and quarter you for conspiracy.’

  ‘As you please, woman, though were I set in your place, I should neither reveal its existence to your brothers, nor provoke the men by hanging their only pilot. You believe that the forecastle is without arms, but you are mistaken: when you had the arquebuses taken aft, twenty-five were kept back, with ten ro
unds apiece—more than enough to account for you and your supporters.’

  ‘You have thought it out craftily! A pity that you were born in the gutter. As a nobleman you would have risen high in the service. Very well, I concede you this trick, and to prove that I’m an honest loser, I’ll even see what food can be procured to keep your crew on their feet. But soon the flower of the cards will be in my hands, and then you’ll repent this day’s work. I wonder whether your wife still lives; I sincerely hope that she does not. I should then have adultery on my conscience, a sin I have always been at pains to avoid.’

  ‘It is unlucky for you,’ he growled, choking with rage, ‘that I am not a nobleman, for chivalry would then restrain me from doing what I do now!’ He gripped and shook her savagely until the teeth rattled in her head; then stood glaring down at her.

  ‘I deserved that,’ she said in a small, conciliatory voice. ‘I have been cruel to you, Pedro Fernandez, but there’s a Devil in my bosom. I heartily wish you would beat him clean out of me with a rawhide whip.’

  ‘I can well believe that,’ he replied, loosening his hold on her, ‘but you must learn to be content with the silent flagellations of your conscience.’