1492 Part 17

Diego de Arana said, "You have had a full life, senor!"

He was cousin, I had been told, to that Dona Beatrix whom the Admiral cherished, mother of his youngest son, Fernando. The Admiral had affection for him, and Diego de Arana lived and died, a good, loyal man. "A full outward life," he went on, "and I dare swear, a full inward one!"

"That is G.o.d's truth!" said the Admiral. "You may well say that, senor!

Inside I have lived with all who have lived, and discovered with all who have discovered!"

I remember as a dream this last day upon the _Santa Maria_. Beltran the cook had scalded his arm. I dressed it each day, and dressing it now, half a dozen idling by, watching the operation, I heard again a kind of talk that I had heard before. Partly because I had shipped as Juan Lepe an Andalusian sailor and had had my forecastle days, and partly because men rarely fear to speak to a physician, and partly because in the great whole there existed liking between them and me, they talked and discussed freely enough what any other from the other end of ship could have come at only by formal questioning. Now many of the seamen wanted to know when we were returning to Palos, and another number said that they would just as soon never return, or at least not for a good while!

But they did not wish to spend that good while upon the ship. It was a good land, and the heathen also good. The heathen might all be going to burn in h.e.l.l, unless Fray Ignatio could get them baptized in time, and so numerous were they that seemed hardly possible! Almost all might have to go to h.e.l.l. But in the meantime, here on earth, they had their uses, and one could even grow fond of them--certainly fond of the women. The heathen were eager to work for us, catch us coneys, bring us gold, put hammocks for us between trees and say "Sleep, senor, sleep!" Here even Tomaso Pa.s.samonte was "senor" and "Don." And as for the women--only the skin is dark--they were warm-hearted! Gold and women and never any cold nor hunger nor toil! The heathen to toil for you--and they could be taught to make wine, with all these grapes dangling everywhere? Heathen could do the gathering and pressing, and also the gold hunting in rocks and streams. Spain would furnish the mind and the habit of command. It were well to stay and cultivate Hispaniola! The Admiral and those who wanted to might take home the ships. Of course the Admiral would come again, and with him ships and many men. No one wanted, of course, never to see again Castile and Palos and his family! But to stay in Hispaniola a while and rest and grow rich,--that was what they wanted. And no one could justly call them idle! If they found out all about the land and where were the gold and the spices, was there not use in that, just as much use as wandering forever on the _Santa Maria_?

Mother earth was kind, kind, here, and she didn't have a rod like mother country and Mother Church! They did not say this last, but it was what they meant.

"You don't see the rod, that is all," said Juan Lepe.

But there had eventually to be colonies, and I knew that the Admiral was revolving in his head the leaving in this new world certain of our men, seed corn as it were, organs also to gather knowledge against his speedy return with power of ships and men. For surely Spain would be grateful,--surely, surely! But he was not ready yet to set sail for Spain. He meant to discover more, discover further, come if by any means he could to the actual wealth of great, main India; come perhaps to Zaiton, where are more merchants than in all the rest of the world, and a hundred master ships laden with pepper enter every year; or to Quinsai of the marble bridges. No, he was not ready to turn prow to Spain, and he was not likely to bleed himself of men, now or for many days to come.

All these who would lie in hammocks ash.o.r.e must wait awhile, and even when they made their colony, that is not the way that colonies live and grow.

Beltran said, "Some of you would like to do a little good, and some are for a sow's life!"

It was Christmas Eve, and we had our vespers, and we thought of the day at home in Castile and in Italy. Dusk drew down. Behind us was the deep, secure water of St. Thomas, his harbor. The Admiral had us sound and the lead showed no great depth, whereupon we stood a little out to avoid shoal or bar.

For some nights the Admiral had been wakeful, suffering, as Juan Lepe knew, with that gout which at times troubled him like a very demon. But this night he slept. Juan de la Cosa set the watch. The helmsman was Sancho Ruiz than whom none was better, save only that he would take a risk when he pleased. All others slept. The day had been long, so warm, still and idle, with the wooded sh.o.r.e stealing so slowly by.

Early in the night Sancho Ruiz was taken with a great cramp and a swimming of the head. He called to one of the watch to come take the helm for a little, but none answered; called again and a ship boy sleeping near, uncurled himself, stretched, and came to hand. "It's all safe, and the Admiral sleeping and the master sleeping and the watch also!" said the boy. Pedro Acevedo it was, a well-enough meaning young wretch.

Sancho Ruiz put helm in his hand. "Keep her so, while I lie down here for a little. My head is moving faster than the _Santa Maria_!"

He lay down, and the swimming made him close his eyes, and closed eyes and the disappearance of his pain, and pleasant resting on deck caused him to sleep. Pedro Acevedo held the wheel and looked at the moon. Then the wind chose to change, blowing still very lightly but bearing us now toward sh.o.r.e, and Pedro never noticing this grow larger. He was looking at the moon, he afterwards said with tears, and thinking of Christ born in Bethlehem.

The sh.o.r.e came nearer and nearer. Sancho Ruiz slept. Pedro now heard a sound that he knew well enough. Coming back to here and now, he looked and saw breakers upon a long sand bar. The making tide was at half, and that and the changed wind carried us toward the lines of foam. The boy cried, "Steersman! Steersman!" Ruiz sat up, holding his head in his hands. "Such a roaring in my ears!" But "Breakers! Breakers!" cried the boy. "Take the helm!"

Ruiz sprang to it, but as he touched it the _Santa Maria_ grounded.

The shock woke most on board, the immediate outcry and running feet the rest.

The harm was done, and no good now in recriminations! It was never, I bear witness, habit of Christopherus Columbus.

The Santa Maria listed heavily, the sea pounding against her, driving her more and more upon the sand. But order arrived with the Admiral. The master grew his lieutenant, the mariners his obedient ones. Back he was at thirty, with a shipwreck who had seen many and knew how to toil with hands and with head. Moreover, the great genius of the man shone in darkness. He could encourage; he could bring coolness.

We tried to warp her off, but it was not to be done. We cut away mast to lighten her, but more and more she grew fast to the bank, the waves striking all her side, pushing her over. Seams had opened, water was coming in. The _Nina_ a mile away took our signal and came nearer, lay to, and sent her boat.

The Santa Maria, it was seen, was dying. Nothing more was to be done.

Her mariners could only cling to her like bees to comb. We got the two boats clear and there was the boat of the Nina. Missioned by the Admiral, Juan Lepe got somehow into cabin, together with Sancho and Luis Torres, and we collected maps and charts, log, journal, box with royal letters and the small bags of gold, and the Admiral's personal belongings, putting all into a great sack and caring for it, until upon the _Nina_ we gave it into his hand. Above us rang the cry, "All off!"

From Christopherus Columbus to Pedro Acevedo all left the Santa Maria and were received by the Nina. Crowded, crowded was the Nina! Down voyaged the moon, up came with freshness the rose-chapleted dawn. A wreck lay the Santa Maria, painted against the east, about her a low thunder of breakers. Where was the _Pinta_ no man knew! Perhaps halfway back to Spain or perhaps wrecked and drowned like the flagship. The Nina, a small, small ship and none too seaworthy, carried all of Europe and Discovery.

CHAPTER XXII

IN the small, small cabin of the _Nina_ Christopherus Columbus sat for a time with his head bowed in his arms, then rose and made up a mission to go to the cacique Guacanagari and, relating our misfortune, request aid and shelter until we had determined upon our course. There went Diego de Arana and Pedro Gutierrez with Luis Torres and one or two more, and they took Diego Colon and the two St. Thomas Indians. It was now full light, the sh.o.r.e and mountains green as emerald, the water its old unearthly blue.

The _Nina_ swung at anchor just under the land and the now receding tide uncovered more and more those sands where the Santa Maria lay huddled and dying. The Admiral gazed, and the tears ran down his face. He was so great that he never thought to hide just emotion. He spoke as though to himself. "Many sins have I, many, many! But thou wilt not, O G.o.d, cast me utterly away because of them! I will not doubt Thee, nor my calling!"

There was little s.p.a.ce about him. The _Nina_ seemed to quiver, packed and dark with men. His deep voice went on, and they could hear him, but he did not seem to know that they were there. "As though upon a raft, here a thousand leagues in Ocean-Sea! Yet wilt Thou care for thy Good News. I will come to Spain, and I will tell it. Chosen, and almost by very name pointed out in Thy Book! The first Christian sh.o.r.e that I touch I will walk barefoot and in my shirt at the head of twelve to the first shrine. And, O my Lord, never more will I forget that that tomb in which thou didst rest, still, still is held by the infidel!" He beat his breast. "_Mea culpa! mea culpa!_"

His voice sank, he looked at the sky, then with a turn of the wrist at the wheel he put that by and became again the vigilant Admiral of a fleet of one. "She will hold together yet a while! When the tide is out, we can get to her and empty her. Take all ash.o.r.e that can be carried or floated and may be of use. Up and down--down and up!"

The inhabitants of Hispaniola were now about us in canoes or swimming.

They seemed to cry out in distress and sympathy, gazing at the _Santa Maria_ as though it were a G.o.d dying there. Their own canoes were living things to them as is any ship to a mariner, and by a.n.a.logy our great canoe was a Being dying, more of a Being than theirs, because it had wings and could open and fold them. And then back came our boat with Diego de Arana and the others, and they had with them that same brother of the cacique who had come to us in St. Thomas Harbor. And had we been wrecked off Palos, not Palos could have showed more concern or been more ready to help than were these men.

We had three boats and the Indian canoes and hands enough, white and copper-hued. Now at low tide, we could approach and enter the _Santa Maria_. A great breach had been made and water was deep in her hold, but we could get at much of casks and chests, and could take away sails and cordage, even her two cannon. Eventually, as she broke up, we might float away to sh.o.r.e much of her timber. When I looked from the wreck to the little Nina, I could see, limned as it were in air, the Viceroy's first colony, set in Hispaniola, beside Guacanagari's town. All Christmas day we toiled and the Indians at our side. We found them ready, not without skill, gay and biddable.

Toward sunset came Guacanagari. All the little sh.o.r.e was strewn and heaped with our matters. And here I will say that no Indian stole that day though he might have stolen, and though our possessions seemed to him great wonders and treasure beyond estimation. What was brought from the _Santa Maria_ lay in heaps and our men came and went. The most of our force was ash.o.r.e or in the boats; only so many on the Nina. The Admiral, just returned to the ship, stretched himself upon the bench in her small cabin. Powerful was his frame and const.i.tution, and powerfully tried all his life with a thousand strains and buffetings! It seemed still to hold; he looked a muscular, sinewy, strong and ruddy man. But there were signs that a careful eye might find. He lay upon the bench in the cabin and I, who was his physician, brought him wine and biscuit and made him eat and drink who, I knew, had not touched food since the evening before; after which I told him to close eyes and go away to Genoa and boyhood. He shut them, and I sitting near brought my will as best I could to the quieting of all heavy and sorrowful waves.

But then the cacique came. So small was the _Nina_ that we could hear well enough the word of his arrival. The Admiral opened his eyes and sat stiffly up. He groaned and took his head into his hands, then dropped these and with a shake of his shoulders resumed command. So many and grievous a sea had dashed over him and retreated and he had stood! What he said now was, "The tide of the spirit goes out; the tide comes back in. Let it come back a spring tide!"

Guacanagari entered. This cacique, whose fortunes now began to be intertwined with ours, had his likeness, so far as went state and custom, to that Cuban chieftain whom Luis Torres and I had visited.

But this was an easier, less strongly fibred person, a big, amiable, indolent man with some quality of a great dog who, accepting you and becoming your friend, may never be estranged. He was brave after his fashion, gifted enough in simple things. In Europe he would have been an easy, well-liked prince or duke of no great territory. He kept a simple state, wore some slight apparel of cotton and a golden necklet.

He brought gifts and an unfeigned sympathy for that death upon the sand bar.

He and the Admiral sat and talked together. "G.o.ds from heaven?"--"Christian men and from Europe," and we could not make him, at this time, understand that that was not the same thing. We began to comprehend that "heaven" was a word of many levels, and that they ascribed to it everything that they chose to consider good and that was manifestly out of the range of their experience.

In his turn the Admiral was ready for all that Guacanagari could tell him. "Gold?" His eyes were upon the Indian's necklet. Removing it, the cacique laid it in the G.o.d's hand. All Indians now understood that we made high magic with gold, getting out of it virtues beyond their comprehension. In return the Admiral gave him a small brazen gong and hammer. "Where did they get the gold?" Again like the Cuban chief this cacique waved his hand to the mountains. "Cibao!" and then turning he too pointed to the south. "Much gold there," said Diego Colon. "Inland, in the mountains," quoth the Admiral, "and evidently, in very great quant.i.ty, in some land to the south! This is not c.i.p.ango, but I think that c.i.p.ango lies to the south." He asked who ruled Hayti that we called Hispaniola. We understood that there were a number of caciques, but that for a day's journey every way it was Guacanagari's country.

"A cacique who ruled them all?" No, there was no such thing.

"Had ships like ours and clothed men ever before come to them?"

No, never! But then he seemed to say that there was undoubtedly a tradition. G.o.ds had come, and would come again, and when they did so great things would follow! But no cacique nor priest nor any knew when the G.o.ds had come.

The Admiral made some question of Caribs. Again there was gesture southward, though it seemed to us that something was said of folk within this great island who were at least like Caribs. And where was the most gold and the greatest other wealth that they knew of? Again south, though this time we thought it rather south by west. The Admiral sighed, and spoke of Cuba. Yes, Guacanagari knew of Cuba. Had it end far yonder to the westward, or no end? Had any one ever come to its end? The cacique thought not, or knew not and a.s.sumed deliberation. Luis and I agreed that we had not met among these Indians any true notion of a continent. To them Hayti was vast, Cuba was vast, the lands of the Caribs, wherever they were, were vast, and vast whatever other islands there might be. To them this was the _OEc.u.mene_, the inhabited and inhabitable world, Europe--Asia--Africa? Their faces stayed blank. Were these divisions of heaven?

Guacanagari would entertain and succor us. This canoe--oh, the huge marvel!--was too crowded! Yonder lay his town. All the houses that we might want were ours, all the hammocks, all the food. And he would feast the G.o.ds. That had been preparing since yesterday, A feast with dancing.

He hoped the great cacique and his people from far nearer heaven than was Guacanagari would live as long as might be in his town. Guarico was his town. A big, easy, amiable, likeable man, he sat in nakedness only not utter, save for that much like a big hidalgo offering sympathy and shelter to some fire-ousted or foe-ousted prince! As for the part of prince it was not hard for the Admiral to play it. He was one naturally.

He thanked the cacique to whom, I could see, he had taken liking. Seven houses would be enough. To-night some of us would sleep upon the beach beside the heaped goods. To-morrow we would visit Guacanapri. The big, lazy, peaceable man expressed his pleasure, then with a wide and dignified gesture dismissing all that, asked to be shown marvels.

CHAPTER XXIII

GUACANAGARI'S town was much perhaps as was Goth town, Frank town, Saxon town, Latin town, sufficient time ago. As for clothed and unclothed, that may be to some degree a matter of cold or warm weather. We had not seen that ever it was cold in this land.

Guacanagari feasted us with great dignity and earnestness, for he and his people held it a momentous thing our coming here, our being here.

Utias we had and iguana, fish, ca.s.sava bread, potato, many a delicious fruit, and that mild drink that they made. And we had calabashes, trenchers and fingers, stone knives with which certain officers of the feast decorously divided the meat, small gourds for cups, water for cleansing, napkins of broad leaves. It was a great and comely feast. But before the feast, as in Cuba, the dance.

I should say that three hundred young men and maidens danced. They advanced, they retreated, they cowered, they pressed forward. They made supplication, arms to heaven or forehead to ground, they received, they were grateful, they circled fast in ease of mind, they hungered again and were filled again, they flowed together, they made a great square, chanting proudly!

Fray Ignatio beside me glowered, so far as so good a man could glower. But Juan Lepe said, "It is doubt and difficulty, approach, reconciliation, holy triumph! They are acting out long pilgrimages and arrivals at sacred cities and hopes for greater cities. It is much the same as in Seville or Rome!" Whereupon he looked at me in astonishment, and Jayme de Marchena said to Juan Lepe, "Hold thy tongue!"