Nor was it wise to leave the sick men alone and unprotected from the Indians. Even if he had led the healthy men to the gold mines, they would have faced “a cacique named Caonabó, a man who, in everyone’s opinion, is very evil and even more audacious,” and likely to endanger them all. And if they reached the gold, how would they transport it to the ships? “Either we would have had to carry just a little bit every day, bringing it with us and risking sickness, or we would have had to send it with some of the men, still running the risk of losing it.”
Nearly as urgent as the pervasive illness was the “great scarcity of all things that are particularly efficacious in fighting sickness—such as raisins, sugar, almonds, honey, and rice—which should have arrived in large quantities but we got very little of.” And that had been consumed, “including the medicines.” Their situation worsened with every passing day.
Columbus sent several lists to Spain with Torres. One requested basic supplies “for the people”:Wheat
Barley
Biscuit
Wine (about 16,000 gallons)
Vinegar in casks
Oil in jars
Beans
Chickpeas
Lentils
Bacon
Beef
Raisins
Figs
Almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts
Salted fish (300 barrels)
Onions
Garlic (5,000 strings)
Sugar
Mustard
Honey (36 gallons)
Molasses (10 jars)
Seeds
Sheep and goats
Calves (20)
Chickens (400)
Wine flasks
Water casks
Strainers, sieves, sifters
Another list presented requirements expressly “for the Admiral and his household,” who, on the basis of their stated needs, craved sweets and other delicacies to soften the hardships of the Indies:Candied citron (20)
Sweets (50 pounds)
Various preserves (12 jars)
Dates
Quince preserve (12 boxes)
Rose-colored sugar (12 jars)
White sugar
Water scented with orange blossoms (4 gallons)
Saffron (1 pound)
Rice (100 pounds)
Raisins from Almuñécar (on Spain’s southern coast)
Almonds
Good honey (16 gallons)
Fine oil
Fresh pig’s lard (12 gallons)
Ham (100 pounds)
Chickens (100)
Roosters (6)
The Admiral catalogued other indulgences to ease his stay in the islands: five-yard-long tablecloths, seventy-two small cloths, six towels, six pairs of tablecloths for his men, pewter cutlery, two silver cups, two jugs, a saltshaker, twelve spoons, two pairs of brass candlesticks, six copper pitchers, four pots, two cauldrons, four frying pans, two stewing pans, two copper pots with lids, a brass mortar, two iron spoons, graters, two forks, a colander, a large basin, candles and tapers, and a “grill to roast fish.” He did not explain how these items would help convert Indians, locate the Grand Khan, or find gold, but he did offer a suggestion concerning the islands’ cannibals. He urged the Sovereigns to consider “sending some of them to Castile . . . because they will finally abandon their cruel custom of eating flesh. And in Castile, by understanding the language, they can soon receive baptism and save their souls.” The Taínos, on whom Columbus had come to rely, would give “great credit when they see that we have taken prisoner those who torment them and of whom they are so fearful as to tremble at the very mention of their name.” He proposed regular transports of cannibals between the islands and Spain. “The more that are taken over there, the better.”
But the Sovereigns, noting the fatalities among the Indians who sailed for Spain, responded in the letter’s margin: “You must tell him what happened here with the cannibals who came.” The prospect of caravels filled with dying cannibals crowding the docks of Seville did not sit well with Ferdinand and Isabella; they much preferred that Columbus “should get busy there and, if at all possible, see to it that they submit to our holy Catholic faith, and likewise try to see to that with all the inhabitants right on their own islands.” In other words, it was better for Columbus to convert the Indians where they lived.
As if attending to navigation, exploration, the maintenance of his ships, the search for gold, and conversion were not enough to occupy him, the Admiral of the Ocean Sea also interested himself in the sensitive matter of finances. It was his conviction that the major participants of the second voyage, Ojeda, Chanca, and others, deserved recognition in the form of higher pay as well as good honey and fine oil and rose-colored sugar.
He expressed resentment of “these caballeros” who had substituted inferior horses at the last moment (“such nags that the best is not worth even 200 maravedís”). The Admiral declared, “These substitutions were carried out with great maliciousness,” and he described the dishonest scheme perpetrated by some of the men on the ships. “These caballeros, in addition to their pay, have had their expenses on the voyage paid so far, including that of their horses, and are still being paid now even though they are the kind of people who, when they do not feel well or do not feel like doing anything, claim that their horses are not to be used without them; and besides, they expect to do no work except on horseback.” The Sovereigns decreed that the caballeros must stay, but required them to make their horses available whenever “the Admiral so commands.”
And as for the unruly volunteers, who had a habit of going their own way, Columbus recommended that they, all two hundred of them, receive pay as a means of directing their conduct. (The Sovereigns agreed on this point.) And while he was at it, he asked for essentials such as clothing, shoes, mules, arquebuses, and crossbows to replenish the fleet’s dwindling stock of supplies.
In the midst of these tribulations, Columbus dispatched the restless Alonso de Ojeda with fifteen men to look for the mines of Cibao.
After days in the wild, Ojeda and his men returned, explaining that after ascending a troublesome mountain pass, they had been welcomed by the chieftain of a nearby village, and reached the Cibao in only six days. Once there, he observed Indians panning for loose nuggets of gold in a stream. Hearing from the Indians that many streams contained gold nuggets, Ojeda concluded that the region must be “very rich in gold,” an overstatement worthy of Columbus. Recovering from his illness, and “overjoyed,” said his son, Columbus decided to see the gold for himself.
Before setting out, Columbus assigned his brother Don Diego to secure La Isabela and supervise its construction. The Admiral ordered all the arms stored in the flagship during his absence “that none might use them to mutiny, as some had attempted to do while he was ill,” his son wrote. There was ample motivation. The hidalgos and other amateur explorers on the voyage believed that “as soon as they landed they could load themselves with gold and return home rich,” according to Ferdinand, without realizing that his father was as susceptible to the magic spell cast by gold as anyone in his crew, and encouraged the illusion. Sadly, “they did not know that gold may never be had without the sacrifice of time, toil and privations.” Once they were confronted with the reality that gold was scarce and difficult to mine, and that transporting it to Spain would be time-consuming and dangerous, disillusionment and resentment quickly set in. And so the stage was set for mutiny.
Columbus intimidated potential antagonists—both Spanish and Indian—with a show of force. Leading his men forth in military columns, as banners bearing royal insignia flapped haphazardly in the moist heat and thick vegetation muffled the sound of their trumpets, he departed from La Isabela on Wednesday, March 12, accompanied by every able-bodied man the expedition could spare, excepting those “required to guard the two ships and three caravels that remained of the fleet,” in Ferdinand’s words. Peter Martyr, claiming Columbus himself as his source, estimates the force included “all
his cavalrymen and four hundred foot-soldiers,” bound for the Cibao and its gold.
Led by the amphibious Admiral, the land force embarked on a journey across a landscape “of such perfection, grace, and beauty,” wrote Las Casas, “so fresh, so green, so open, of such color and altogether so full of beauty, that as soon as they saw it they felt they had arrived in some part of Paradise.”
On the scene, Columbus reported to Ferdinand and Isabella that “Cibao is the Indian name, which in our language means ‘quarry.’ It is a huge region, the land very rough, all the mountains and peaks quite high, and all or most of them not very steep. It has no trees, but it is not without vegetation because of its exceptional fertility; the grass here grows like a weed, thicker and higher than a field of barley at the best time of year, and in forty days it grows as high as a horse’s saddle, and it is always thick and green if it is not burnt. The ground below all those mountains and peaks is full of stones as large and round as those on a riverbank or a beach, and all or most of them are bluish.” The Cibao’s pure water delighted him; it was “clear, delicious, cold and not harsh like those waters that harm people and make them sick; it dissolves kidney stones, and many were cured.” Even better, “All the creeks and streams, large and small, have gold nuggets, in the water or nearby where the water has washed them out. I believe, or rather, I am certain, that this gold comes from the mines on the peaks and mountains, and during the rainy season the water carries it into the streams.”
The gold, and the men who would mine it, required protection. Columbus decided it was time to establish another fort in the heart of the Cibao. On a hilltop, they erected a small settlement with the intimidating name Fortaleza, or Fortress. But that was not their final destination. “After advancing almost seventy-two miles from the city into the gold region,” said Peter Martyr, “Columbus decided to build a fortress on the bank of a large river on a high hill, so that there they could gradually and safely explore the region’s hidden places. This fort he named Santo Tomás,” after Thomas the apostle, the original “Doubting Thomas” who refused to believe in the Resurrection until he felt Jesus’ wounds. This name was, perhaps, Columbus’s way of defying all the skeptics who refused to believe this valley produced gold.
Attracted by the industrious Spaniards, Indians gathered in the Cibao, seeking bells and other trinkets as eagerly as the white men sought gold. The Admiral obliged, so long as the Indians brought gold. Some nuggets were so large that Columbus assumed the Indians had melted smaller pieces of gold to form large lumps. Columbus held the nuggets in his hand, as an old Indian man told him there were others as “big as walnuts,” or even bigger. “When I received the two nuggets from this old man,” Columbus wrote, “I was most happy and indicated that they were very nice and gave him a bell. He received it with a sigh of satisfaction expressing greater contentment than someone being given a fine city.” These two nuggets, he said, were as nothing “compared with the others in his land.” The old man stooped and picked up several stones, claiming that he had nuggets of gold that were even larger. “They ranged in size from that of a walnut to a big orange,” Columbus exclaimed in wonder. But matters were not quite that simple.
Believing that he was close to finding greater amounts of gold, the Admiral “sent a young nobleman with a few armed soldiers to explore the [Cibao] region,” wrote Ferdinand. He returned telling fantastic stories of “gold nuggets the size of a man’s head . . . found on a riverbank.” Curiously, Columbus never followed up, preferring to whet the appetite of his Sovereigns for more voyages. He had his excuses prepared—the distance from the Cibao to the ships was too great, he lacked proper gold-mining equipment, the gold would be there when he got back—but, given the overwhelming importance of gold to Columbus and to Spain, his account is deeply suspect. He had indeed found gold, but not the incredible amounts of which he boasted.
Returning to La Isabela on April 1, just before Easter, Columbus discovered that a group of discontented Spaniards had coalesced around the unlikely figure of Bernal Díaz de Pisa, the fleet’s comptroller. In Spain, he had been a constable in the royal court. Now he was a rebel, and he was immediately arrested.
While Díaz de Pisa was confined aboard ship, it emerged that he had fabricated a catalogue of outrageous accusations against the Admiral and concealed it in a buoy marking an anchor. Even Columbus’s harsh critic, Bartolomé de Las Casas, expressed dismay at Díaz’s treachery: “I cannot imagine just how the Admiral could have committed all the crimes and injuries listed in the short space of two months that he had been out there.” Despite Columbus’s intercession, rumors of his cruelty toward his own men spread throughout Castile. “I have read the letters he sent to the king and queen in which he explains that he was obliged by law to hand out the punishments he did,” Las Casas noted, “which is an indication that he did punish some of them,” but the cleric sided with Columbus, for once. “Criminals are always demanding to go unpunished,” he wrote, “and always claim their actions are justified and that it is they who are being victimized.”
By this time, the formerly unified expedition had split into three parts. First, a small delegation of Spaniards painstakingly constructed the fortress known as La Isabela on the northern coast of what is now the Dominican Republic. Second, Columbus and his loyalists searched through the gold mines of Cibao. Along the way, they confronted Indians who were not allied with Guacanagarí and potential mutineers among the crew. Meanwhile, the third and largest contingent returned to Cadiz, under the command of Antonio de Torres.
Giambattista Strozzi, writing from Cadiz, catalogued the fleet’s flora and fauna snatched from the Indies, including gold, spices, parrots, and other fowl. Strozzi also wrote excitedly of “many brown men with wide faces like Tartars, with hair extending to the middle of their shoulders, large and very quick and fierce, and they eat human flesh and children and castrated men whom they keep and fatten like capons, and then they eat them. They are called cannibals.”
Guillermo Coma, the nobleman traveling with Columbus, remarked that they were accomplished mariners, traveling from island to island in canoes, “even as far as a thousand miles in search of plunder.” And they were ferocious. “They hand over the female captives as slaves to their womenfolk, or make use of them to satisfy their lust. Children borne by the captives are eaten like the captives.” It might have been for this reason that the Indian women were quick to resort to self-inflicted abortions.
Despite these repugnant practices, Guillermo Coma considered the Caribs “intelligent, sharp-witted, and shrewd,” qualities that gave him hope that “they could easily be led to adopt our laws and manner of life, when they realize that our manners are more mild and our manners more civilized than theirs. It is hoped, therefore, that they will in a short time abandon their savage character as a result both of instruction from us and an occasional threat that, unless they abstain from human flesh, they will be reduced to bondage and carried in chains to Spain”—a “civilized” society with terrors of its own, and which would all but exterminate the Caribs within a few years.
The Admiral marked the three-month anniversary of his fleet’s arrival in these islands on a note of nervous rapprochement with the Indians, whom they observed at close range. “All of them,” said Chanca, “go naked like they were born, except for the women of this island, who keep their waists covered by means of either a piece of cotton fabric that girds their hips or weeds and leaves. As an embellishment, both men and women paint themselves, some in black, others in white and red, in such an imaginative way that seeing them will make one truly laugh; their heads are shaved in patches with such various lock patterns that it is impossible to describe. In sum, all that in Spain we might wish to do on a madman’s head would here . . . be an object of refined attention.”
By this time, Columbus’s men felt safe enough to make a practice of sleeping on dry land rather than in their leaky, crowded ships. Although they feared another massacre, their encounters with the inhabitan
ts proved peaceful enough, and even enjoyable. “We saw many things worthy of amazement: ‘wool-producing’ trees”—cotton shrubs—“and of great quality, too, so good that those who know the art affirm they could make good clothes with it,” Chanca said with satisfaction. And he found “very good mastic from the mastic tree,” the resin with which Columbus was familiar from his apprenticeship in the Aegean.
Concerning the Indians’ diet, the doctor approvingly noted a “bread made from a weed root” (cassava), and yams, which he considered a source of “excellent nourishment.” Guillermo Coma raved about them: “When eaten raw, as in salads, they taste like parsnips; when roasted, like chestnuts. When cooked with pork, you would think you were eating squash. You will never eat anything more delicious.” Michele de Cuneo, on the other hand, favored parrots. “The flesh tastes like that of the starling. There are also wild pigeons, some of them white crested, which are delicious to eat.” Not everything that grew on the island attained this high culinary standard. Chanca noted that the Indians routinely consumed “snakes, lizards, spiders, and worms found all over the land,” a stomach-turning regimen that made “these people more similar to animals, as far as I am concerned.”
By the end of March, La Isabela teetered on the verge of collapse. The physical labor prescribed by Columbus drove the overworked, undisciplined men to the brink of exhaustion. Nearly all the settlement’s inhabitants were seriously ill and starving. The little food they had rotted in the heat and humidity. Columbus blamed the ships’ captains, who he claimed had neglected to take necessary precautions. He pressed the demoralized survivors—everyone from hidalgos to servants, and even clerics—into service to construct a canal and watermill to grind wheat. Under this regimen, gentlemen had to cook their own meals, if they could find anything edible. The sick received a single egg and a pot of stewed chickpeas, a meager ration considered sufficient to sustain five patients. Death stalked every man at the settlement, including the nobles who had never before had to cope with deprivation.
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