by Barry Sadler
"I have assembled ships, arms, horses, and the other materials of war, a great stock of provisions, and everything, else commonly needed and profitable in conquest. I have spent large sums, for which I have put in pawn my own estates and those of my friends. For it seems to me that the less I retain of it, the greater will be my honor. Small things must be given up when great things present themselves. I hope in God that more profit will come to our king and nation from our expedition than from those of all others. I need hardly mention how pleasing it will be to God, our Lord, for love of whom I have willingly offered my toil and my estate; nor shall I speak of the danger to life and honor to which I have exposed myself in getting the fleet together, because I would have you know that I do not seek gain from it so much as honor, for good men hold honor dearer than riches."
Casca thought that Cortes did very well in bringing up things he didn't want to mention. The man was a natural politician. Cortes caught his breath and continued.
"We are engaging in a just and good war which will bring us fame. Almighty God, in whose name and faith it will be waged, will give us victory, and time will see the accomplishment that always follows upon whatever is done and guided by intelligence and good counsel. We must, therefore, employ a different way, a different reasoning, and a different skill from those of Cordoba and Grijalba. I shall not pursue the matter further because of the pressure of time, which urges us onward. There we shall do as we shall see fit, and here I offer you great rewards, although they will be wrapped about with great hardships. Valor loves not idleness, and so therefore, if you will take hope for valor, or valor for hope, and if you do not abandon me, as I shall not abandon you, I shall make you in a very short time the richest of all men who have crossed the seas and of all the armies which have made war. You are few, I see, but such is your spirit that no effort or force of Indians will prevail against you, for we have seen by experience how God has favored the Spanish nation in these parts and how we have never lacked courage or strength and never shall. Go your way now, content and happy, and make the outcome equal to the beginning."
The assembly gave a great cheer, much encouraged by the speech, especially the part about making them rich men. There was a rush for the assembly to line up in three rows to sign the articles that would make them part of this great enterprise. Casca and Juan waited their turn, the scar-faced man thinking of the manner in which fate turns its endlessly spinning wheel of chance. If Grijalba and Cordoba had not made a chance landing on the shores of the unknown lands to the west of Cuba, Cortes would not at this time be signing on hands to go there.
Cortes waited until all had signed the articles and then stood on a table to get their attention once more. To all there, he gave the order that they were to sail as soon as a mass was said and the wind turned favorable. Men rushed to gather their gear and load equipment and horses. They would be ready when the time came.
It was February 18, 1519, when Cortes gave his pilots their orders and set a large lantern from his mast to serve as a guide for the others of his small fleet. The course was set for due west of Punta de San Anton, the last tip of Cuba, for Cape Catoche, the closest landfall at Yucatan, sixty leagues distant.
The conquistadors of Spain had set sail.
A storm blew up that night, and they were forced to change their course. Instead of Yucatan, they made first landfall on the island of Cozumel. Three ships of the fleet had managed to stay with Cortes's flagship, and of the rest, only one ship failed to find its way to Cozumel, though all of them were blown off course and had to pick their own paths and speed. The ship commanded by de Morala had lost its rudder in the storm, and this caused some delay before Cortes was able to press on.
Two more days' sail without sight of land and they reached Punta de las Mujeres, where they found several of the stray ships at anchor, waiting. Cortes ordered his pilots to set their course for the direction in which the winds and weather had most likely blown the remainder of his lost ships. He found them anchored in a fair harbor within sight of a native town. Ordering a patrol to investigate the village, Cortes hoped to find a friendly reception. But when they returned to the ships, it was with the word that all the natives had fled. When questioned further, they said that the town was well built of mortar and stone with roofs of thatch. They did return with some garments of cotton and a few pieces of gold jewelry found in the houses. There were several of what they believed to be temples and a high tower; but in those they found nothing. Outside the village there were fields of maize, orchards, and many beehives.
Cortes was pleased but also a bit surprised that the villagers had run away to hide in the woods. This was the same place where Juan de Grijalba had ventured to earlier. Fearing an ambush, he ordered fifty men and their horses to land, not only to search out the countryside but also to rest the animals and let them pasture. Casca was in the search party, being one of those who owned his own animal. He and ten others found five women and three children hiding in the brush. These they returned to Cortes, who naturally could not understand them. He managed by using signs, making them understand that he was not going to do them or their children any harm. One of the women was clearly the mistress of the others, and from the way the children clung to her, it was certain that she was also their mother. Casca watched with approval as Cortes put the weeping woman at her ease by giving her gifts of clothing, several small mirrors, and scissors, which astonished her when she understood their use. Once she no longer was in fear for her life, she requested permission to send one of her servants to speak to her lord and master to tell of the manner in which she had been treated.
It was several hours before six native men came to the town to see whether what the servant had said was true and whether the wife of the calachuni was actually being treated as an honored guest. They were given small gifts and sent back with the word that the Spaniards had come as friends and that the calachuni himself should come and see that he had no reason to fear them. The next morning the chief came, bringing gifts of honey, bread, and fish. This was the first opportunity Juan and Casca had to see Cortes in his element, that of winning the natives to his side. He was a natural diplomat. He ordered that all the things taken from the houses be brought to him, including the few items of gold and silver they had found. These he laid out so that their owners could identify and reclaim their possessions. These simple acts, so contrary to what Casca had seen of the normal Spanish method of dealing with what they considered to be inferior beings (and they considered everyone in the world inferior beings), left him sanguine. He had high hopes for his commander if Cortes conducted all of his business in the same manner.
Francisco de Cordoba, one of Cortes's captains, had in his company a man named Melchior, who had spent time as a fisherman in the coastal waters near Yucatan and had a small grasp of the tongue of the people of these regions. Although Melchior's abilities were limited, it was better than nothing. It was through him, accompanied by many signs and sand drawings, that Cortes was able to make most of his words known. The natives were impressed by the Spaniards, with their beards and fair skin, and especially by the horses, which they would watch for hours at a time. It was clear that they considered the Spaniards to be more than just ordinary men and therefore were not very upset when Cortes ordered their idols smashed and replaced with the cross. In this, Juan joined in with a fervor, for he was a good Catholic. Casca watched it all and wondered if all the natives they met would be as ready as these were to accept the new religion the Spaniards were offering them. Old ways die hard.
The Cacique, whose wife Cortes had treated so nobly, came to him after they had been there about ten days. He made signs to Cortes, pointing toward Yucatan, that he had heard of four or five other bearded men there. Upon considering how vital to his plans it would be to have someone who really could communicate with the natives, Cortes at last coaxed the Cacique into sending three men to the bearded men, even though they were afraid that if they were found out, they would be killed and e
aten by the chieftain who held the bearded men captive. It took a few more bribes of trinkets before they were convinced to try. Cortes wrote a letter to the unknown captives, saying:
Noble lords, I have departed from Cuba with a fleet of eleven vessels and five hundred and fifty Spaniards and have arrived here at Cozumel, where I am writing this letter to you. The people of this island have assured me that in your country there are four or five bearded men like us in every respect. They cannot give me more details, but judging from what they have told us, I suspect and consider as certain that you are Spaniards. I and these gentlemen who have come with me to explore and colonize these lands beg you, within six days from the time you receive this letter, to come to us without delay or excuse. If you will come, we shall recognize and reward the favor that this fleet will receive from you. I am sending a brigantine to pick you up and two ships to act as escort.
Hernan Cortes of Havana, Cuba
In order to keep the letter hidden, Cortes chose the brightest looking of the Indians and hid the letter in the man's thick braids. He sent Captain Escalante and his brigantine, along with Diego de Ordaz and several Indians, to command the two escort ships and the fifty soldiers on them. Escalante landed the Indians where he was told to, let them off, and waited seven days, though he had been told to wait for six. When the Indians didn't return, he figured they'd been found out and killed or taken as slaves. Cortes was disappointed that they had not returned with at least one Spaniard who could speak the tongue of the Indians. He gave the order for his fleet to make ready to sail.
The fleet had not cleared the cape before they had to put about and return to Cozumel, where Pedro de Alvarez's ship had sprung a leak so bad that not even two pumps could keep it under control. The Indians were glad to see them return, but Cortes was impatient, feeling that even nature and luck were beginning to conspire against his destiny. It was the following Sunday, which was the first day of Lent, when Cortes decided to hold a mass before they attempted to leave again. It was then that he was told that a canoe had been seen sailing from Yucatan to the island, heading for where his ships were anchored. Cortes put out a guard under the command of Andres de Tapia, the commander of his arquebusiers, in case the new arrivals were hostile. They went to the beach to await the arrival of whoever was coming from the mainland.
The log canoe touched the beach, and four men got out of it, all of them wearing only breechclouts, their hair braided over their foreheads, bows and arrows in their hands. Three of them started to try to get back into the boat when they saw the Spaniards of de Tapia coming at them with drawn swords. One stepped in front of them, speaking their tongue and halting their flight. Then he turned to those carrying the good steel of Toledo in their hands and cried out in Spanish, "Gentlemen, are you Christians?" When they affirmed that it was so, he broke into tears, sank to his knees, and begged them to do likewise. They joined him as he said thanks to God and the Holy Virgin for their mercy in restoring him to his country and out of the hands of the devils who had held him for so long.
Cortes was in a frenzy of delight over the man who identified himself as Geronimo de Aquilar. Once the former captive had been cleaned up and clothed as befitted a Spanish gentleman, he was asked to accompany Cortes as his adviser and interpreter. He eagerly accepted. The story he told of his captivity left the caballeros of Cortes's company aghast at the barbaric habits of the natives of Yucatan. They vowed that they would teach civilized manners to any savages that they met, even if they had to burn them at the stake to do it.
Geronimo, his face lean and darkened by years in the tropical sun, was full of expression as he related the tale of his being shipwrecked while on a mission with Vasco Nunez de Balboa for the admiral governor of Santo Domingo in the year 1511. He had been shipwrecked, losing not only his ship but twenty thousand gold ducats destined for the royal coffers when their caravel struck the shoals of Las Tibores. Twenty men survived the wreck in one boat without sails, water, or food and with only one set of oars. For two weeks they drifted, until they finally were caught in a current that carried them to the province of the Maya. Seven died on the journey; the rest were taken captive by a ruthless Cacique, who'd caged them and then sacrificed five of the castaways to his heathen idols and ate them.
Geronimo and the others were being well fed for what they believed was a fattening up for the next savage fiesta. With luck, they'd managed to break out of their cage and escape, taking refuge with a chieftain named Aquincuz of the Xamananza. He was not on good terms with their original captor. But one by one the survivors had died, until only he and a seaman, one Gonzalo Guerrero, remained. Guerrero had refused to join him when he received Cortes's letter, as he had taken a rich native wife, painted his face and hands black in the native manner, and had many children by the woman. Geronimo thought he was too ashamed to let his fellow countrymen see him in his new state. This did not matter to Cortes, for he had what he needed most in the person of Geronimo, and now he was more determined than ever to set sail once again. But he would have to wait until the weather permitted.
Cortes's policy of making friends had turned the Indians of Cozumel into willing allies, eager to accept all the Spaniards said, even to taking up the god on the cross, along with his mother, as replacements for their own ancient, dark, and bloody lords of heaven. Through Geronimo, he was able to preach the word of God to the heathens, as was his duty as a Christian soldier. The idols of Cozumel were cast down and destroyed by the Indians themselves, who worshiped before their new altars, burning incense and making small sacrifices of partridges, fruit, and maize but not the blood of humans.
From the time they had left Cuba, they'd spent nearly six weeks before they set sail to look for their still missing ship. With Cortes and Casca on the same brigantine, they searched the rivers and coves of the mainland, working their way slowly northward. Their efforts were rewarded when they reached a lagoon they called Puerto Escondido. There they found their lost vessel, unharmed and with its crew safe.
Cortes was not going to waste any more time now that he had his stray sheep. He ordered the fleet to set sail immediately. Juan watched as Casca stood on the bow of the flagship looking over the deep green waters. An old scar on his chest started to ache. He wondered what they would find when they reached the coast, where the Indians of Cozumel said the greatest of the kings held sway. His chest burned, though it had been centuries since he had lain upon the pyramid altar waiting for the sacrificial knife to descend. He shivered with the evening chill, his skin tingling from the spray splashing lightly over the bow. He had promised the people of the city of Teotihuacan that he would return one day, not really believing it. But now he was coming back. Was he still remembered as a god? Did his death mask of jade still rest in the sacred chamber of the pyramid temple, beneath the sign of the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl? He had been the god, Quetza when he had left them after killing the monstrous king of the Olmecs, Teypeytel, named for the huge spotted cat that looked much like the leopards of Africa. The Feathered Serpent had been taken as a symbol from the dragon-prowed long ships with their red and white striped sails. He and his Nordic warriors had arrived in the tropic climes on such ships. His curse of life had for once been of benefit. When he had survived the plunge of the sacrificial dagger, the Teotecs believed him to be a god, and his word became law.
The only law he had given them was that human sacrifice would end. His memory cast back to that distant time when he had stood before the boy king of the Teotec, Cuzmecli, saying: "Your Majesty, wise men of the Teotec nation, listen to my words and pay heed. It has come to me that my time with you is at an end. The circle is complete. As I came to you from the sea, so I must return again to the sea. It is my fate and the will of the gods." The young boy king had started to protest against his leaving, but Casca had stopped him. "No, young king, it must be so. Now hear me. As I have said, everything is a great circle, and all that was shall be again. So it shall. One day I will return. Watch for me to come from the
sea. I brought you messages from the gods. Obey them. There shall be no more human sacrifices on your altars. Remove from all the paintings and artwork of your city any sign of human sacrifice. It is not needed."
An aged shaman of the people had been nodding, when suddenly his eyes snapped open, a far, glazed look passing over the film-covered orbs. In a thin cracking voice he spoke:
"Tectli," he began, giving Casca the title due a noble. "I have seen that what you say is true. You will come again with others, but the ships will not be of the dragon. They will have many sails, and the men will appear different, with skins of shining light. Marvelous beasts will do their bidding and carry them into battle so that they will appear to be half man and half animal, able to run like the wind and travel far. They will spread fire and death among those who still sacrifice on the altars. The people of the valley will be destroyed, but they will not be our people. Our city will long since have been covered by the forests and deserts. But though our city will die, so shall those who come after us, because your laws will be broken.
"You shall return to the valley of the Teotec, but we shall be gone. Yet shall you be remembered. We shall send out holy men to tell of your law and your coming. As you have said, the circle will be complete, and those who have not honored your command will perish. As a people and a nation, they shall be as dust. New ones will inherit all that was in the valley. On 1 Reed, Tectli. It is so, and shall be..."
Casca snapped back from his reverie, the long-dead shaman's words haunting him. On 1 Reed he had said that Casca would return. He knew that by their calendar 1 Reed occurred every fifty-two years. Was this the time? The old priest had been right about him returning in ships with many sails, and there was little doubt that the wondrous beasts he had spoken of were the horses of the Spaniards. If the rest of the priest's vision was as accurate, there surely would be rivers of blood set loose upon the land before he left these shores again.
