To the Edge of the World

by Michele Torrey

  It was blue.

  I was going home.

  In a few days, the Victoria was again ready to sail. We waited until afternoon, for the men aboard the Trinidad would not let us leave until they had finished writing letters for home. My hand cramped with writing, for I was one of the few who could write. Not well, but it did not matter. One by one, they came to me.

  Whispered sighs. . . .

  Messages of love. . . .

  Dried flowers pressed into my hand. . . .

  But as my quill scratched over the paper, ten letters, twenty, my heart became a well of the blackest ink. I, who had no one, would soon return to Spain. Yet they, who had wives, children, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, would remain at the Spice Islands. Perhaps not returning home for another year or more, perhaps never returning home.

  “Tell my—tell my wife I love her,” said Espinosa in a voice as parched as the ground of Castile. “I know not the words to use. You fashion the words. Tell her someday I will return to her. Tell her nothing will keep me from returning home to Spain. Nothing.” Espinosa continued, and when he finished, he placed his hand on my shoulder as I sealed his letter with melted wax. “Fare thee well, Mateo. You are a good lad. I have been proud to call you friend.”

  Words choked in my throat. Espinosa squeezed my shoulder one last time and was gone.

  Finally at midday, with forty-seven crew, many spices, and an additional thirteen natives who had signed on as crew members, the Victoria weighed anchor. The Trinidad’s men followed in their ship’s boats as we slipped away. They rowed frantically, their expressions desperate, filled with longing.

  “Tell my wife I love her!”

  “Tell my children I shall return home!”

  “Give my family my spices! Tell them I will not be long in coming!”

  Then, as one, they dropped the oars in the oarlocks and stood, shouting farewells. Their arms stretched toward us.

  We rushed aft, weeping, hanging over the Victoria’s stern, altogether almost two hundred arms stretching across the waters as if to embrace for the last time.

  “I shall never forget you, my friends!” I cried. “We have been through much together! May God protect you!”

  “Farewell!”

  “Until we meet again, my brothers!”

  “Godspeed!”

  Gradually the gap between us widened. First a stream, then a river, then a great gulf. One by one, our voices trailed away until we stood silent, shoulder to shoulder, our arms hanging at our sides. The ship’s boats grew smaller. Smaller. The Trinidad, too, dwindled . . . a dot only . . . until finally she vanished.

  Still we did not move. It should not have been this way, I thought. So many left behind. For you, my friends, for you will we make it home. For you will we survive. I promise.

  Suddenly, over our heads, the wind intensified. My cap blew from my head, tumbling against the bulwarks. Beside me the captain drew a deep breath, paused, and then barked, “Helm a-starboard!”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” came the helmsman’s cry.

  The Victoria fell off to larboard. The masts and yards creaked. Water thwacked against the hull as she picked up speed.

  “Helm amidships! Steady as she goes!”

  I leaned over the stern. The wake frothed and bubbled. Wind whipped my hair, lashing my face. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  You were right, Rodrigo, my brother. You were right.

  It is the way of the sea.

  EPILOGUE

  September 1522

  On the sixth day of September, in the year of our Lord 1522, the Victoria hove to off the mouth of the Río Guadalquivir. Aboard we were twenty-one men. Eighteen men returning home and three natives. All that remained of two hundred seventy-seven men.

  The voyage home, which we had thought would be swift, carefree almost, was as difficult as all that had come before. Why should we have believed it would be easy? Because the possibility of enduring more suffering was unthinkable. But again, unable to find food, ravaged by storms and rebuffed by contrary winds, many men had died, their fingers stretched toward home.

  I saw the shocked looks on the faces of people as they rowed their boats out to greet us. Our ship was in tatters, her sails grayed and filthy, her hull thickened with barnacles, putrid with seaweed. And we, her crew, starved—at times so hungry we had eaten our spices. Our clothes hung in rags, our faces gaunt and white—the faces of skeletons.

  We watched the boats approach.

  “We are all that remains of the voyage of Magallanes!” cried our captain. “We sailed into the west and have returned from the east. We have been at sea three years less fourteen days. We have not the strength to tow ourselves upriver to Seville, and our longboat is gone.”

  Whispers spread among the people like fire. They gazed at us with astonishment. And in that moment I realized the magnitude of what we had accomplished. It was a monumental achievement, a deed that would surely be remembered throughout all of history.

  A longboat crew was quickly arranged to tow the Victoria upriver. We would leave in the morning. Meanwhile, food and wine were brought aboard. We feasted, wetting our bread with tears that would not cease falling. And we were not ashamed.

  Two days later we arrived in Seville, where we fired our cannon in honor of our fallen shipmates and in honor of our captain-general, Magallanes.

  Through the streets we shuffled, gaunt as sticks, mere shadows of men. Each of us carried a burning candle. We passed through the narrow passageways, shadows leaping from wall to wall, and arrived at the shrine of Nuestra Señora de la Victoria. We knelt before the altar. It was a promise we had made long ago, should we survive.

  I held the candle. It is my reflection, I thought. And in its flame I can see myself. . . .

  I have been forged with fire.

  I have held dying friends in my arms. I have tasted grief and betrayal, su fering and loneliness. And yet, I have known true honor, courage, love, and the joy of brotherhood.

  I knew not what my future held, only knowing that it opened before me like blossoms of fragrant, exotic flowers, that it burned as brightly as the candle in my hands. And I thanked God for the day a master-at-arms befriended a poor shepherd’s son who sang unnoticed in a dirty, noisy inn.

  After much time, I rose to my feet, stiffened, aware of the clamor outside. I set my candle on the altar and left the shrine.

  Crowds swarmed around me. I could scarce move, so great was the commotion. We were famous, invited to the king’s court, but I no longer cared for such things. I moved through the crowd, trying to shake them from me. Many strangers sought to touch me.

  And then I saw him.

  An ugly dog.

  Spotted with mange, the dog lounged in the shadow of a nearby building, panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Could it be? I stared for a moment, disbelieving, then motioned to him. He came immediately, sat on his haunches before me.

  I knelt, wrapped my arms about him, and buried my face in his neck.

  AFTERWORD

  Except for Mateo, his parents, Aysó, and the people at the inn, all the characters in To the Edge of the World really existed. Even Rodrigo! Rodrigo Nieto was a servant for Cartagena aboard the San Antonio who later transferred to the Trinidad. Rodrigo was killed at the Battle of Mactan while defending Magellan. Another man who defended Magellan was Antonio Pigafetta. It was he who “suffered from the bite of a poisoned arrow, his face so swollen he could not open his eyes.” Fortunately for history, Pigafetta not only survived the voyage but also kept a journal. Many of his vivid descriptions are woven throughout the story, such as the one of the guanaco—the wild ancestor of the llama— having “the neck and body of a camel, the head and ears of a mule, and the tail of a horse.” Portions of the dialogue between Magellan and Cartagena were taken from eyewitness accounts.

  Some have asked why the name Magallanes was used instead of Magellan. Ferdinand Magellan is the English translation of his Portuguese name, Fernão de Magalh�
�es. However, I felt his native Portuguese tongue to be too intimidating for Western readers. Instead, I settled upon the Spanish translation, Fernando de Magallanes (the g is silent, sounding like an h), to give the novel added Spanish flavor, and in deference to our young Spanish narrator.

  While the events in To the Edge of the World are faithful to history, even so, it is important to understand that there are limited accounts available of the actual voyage. Most are contradictory and have a political agenda. Also, for the sake of economy, some of the voyage’s elements were abridged or omitted, since recounting the voyage in every detail was beyond the scope of this novel. In addition, whenever a historical event is recounted by a fictional character, the character will always color the story with his or her experiences, interactions, and interpretations.

  During this period in history, values were in many instances very different from those we hold today, and punishments extreme. For example, like his contemporaries, Mateo considered anyone from a less advanced culture to be a “savage,” uncivilized by European standards. In capturing the two Patagonian natives, for instance, the Europeans probably believed they were doing the natives a favor. After all, in the eyes of the crew, the “savages” were just half-naked people, unfortunate enough to live in a frozen, bleak environment. Magellan could clothe them, teach them to speak properly, baptize them into Christianity, and introduce them to Europe. It would never have occurred to someone in that day that kidnapping a native was wrong. It is only now, looking back upon history, that we can see the wrong so clearly. Even Mateo did not think it was wrong.

  It is also troubling for people of the twenty-first century to read about the forced religious conversions of native peoples by Magellan. But to understand Magellan, it is necessary to know the historical backdrop in which he operated. Magellan’s concept of religion was in great part a product of his time. For Christians, it was a time of religious intolerance, when it was believed that history would end and Christ would return only when all the world had converted to Christianity, namely Catholicism. (Within this theology lay huge economic advantage as well, as conversion to Catholicism usually coincided with trade treaties and economic loyalty to the sovereign state, and refusal to convert led to mass destruction and confiscation of all worldly possessions.) Under such a belief, the end justified the means, and all acts to bring about its fulfillment became “holy,” regardless of their morality. Crusaders were seen as devout soldiers for Christ, armed to defend Christendom against infidels and to conquer lands in the name of Christ. Spain saw herself as the champion of Christianity and instituted the Inquisition to establish religious unity. This unity was accomplished through the capture, torture, and trial of heretics, resulting in the deaths of thousands—Jews, Moors, Protestants—anyone who refused the Catholic faith. As an inheritor of this religious environment, then, Magellan felt the baptism of native populations to be a crucial element in annexing a new land for Spain. Compared to later conquistadors such as Francisco Pizarro and Hernándo Cortés, who exhibited gruesome—but accepted—rapaciousness toward the natives of the New World, Magellan stands as a paragon of virtue, fiercely loyal to the island chiefs with whom he’d made treaties of peace.

  Nowadays, it also is difficult to understand the Europeans’ craze for spices. But in those days, there was no refrigeration. Pepper was essential in the preservation of foods and, pound for pound, was equal in value to gold. Spices also transformed a bland, tasteless diet into something palatable. Imagine eating food with no spices whatsoever! At that time, spices were available only from a certain part of the world—the Spice Islands, located in the Far East. Spices were transported overland from India to Europe, passing from one middleman to the next, ultimately selling for exorbitant prices.

  After many failed attempts, a sea route to India was eventually established in 1497 by the Portuguese, via Africa’s Cape of Good Hope. The Portuguese then wrested the affluent spice trade out of Muslim hands, something Spain observed with an envious eye. Because Portugal had earlier been granted a monopoly on trade routes to the east by the pope, Spain was forced to turn to the west in search of a trade route, sending out such men as Christopher Columbus in 1492 and Ferdinand Magellan in 1519.

  Magellan’s accomplishment in circumnavigating the globe cannot be overestimated. With the exception of the Vikings to the north, it wasn’t until the mid-1400s that European ships were stout enough to venture onto the open ocean. Prior to that, they had been limited to the Mediterranean Sea. It wasn’t until 1492 that the “southern continent” (South America) was discovered, and even then, the full scale of its enormousness was unknown. Likewise, in 1513, Europeans discovered the existence of the South Sea (Pacific Ocean), first viewed by Vasco Núñez de Balboa from the isthmus of Panama. Preservation of food for such extended voyages of exploration was not possible. Charts were inaccurate and incomplete. The vastness of the Pacific Ocean had been grossly underestimated. Longitude was impossible to calculate accurately and had to be estimated through “dead reckoning,” a method in which a mariner “reckoned” his ship’s speed by the use of a crude measuring device, enabling him to calculate how far he’d sailed. Over a three-year voyage, dead reckoning compounded error upon error. Above all, successful navigation of Magellan’s ships through unknown, uncharted waters is nothing short of astounding. Even today, el paso—now known as the Strait of Magellan—is a maze of dead ends, dangerous currents, and contrary winds, a waterway avoided by all but the most experienced, or most foolish, of mariners.

  Whatever happened to the largest ship of the fleet, the San Antonio, which vanished in the strait? Instead of exploring the strait as ordered, there was a mutiny aboard. The ship’s pilot, Gómez, harbored a grudge against Magellan, having been turned down by the king for a similar expedition several years prior. Under Gómez’s influence, the crew overpowered the San Antonio’s captain, a relative of Magellan’s, and set a course for Spain. For unknown reasons, the San Antonio did not return to Port San Julián to fetch Cartagena. Cartagena was never heard from again.

  Once the San Antonio arrived in Spain, Gómez testified against Magellan, listing many atrocities. In response to Gómez’s testimony and in response to the marooning of Cartagena, government officials cast the captain of the San Antonio into prison and placed Magellan’s wife and son under house arrest.

  A more balanced truth was revealed, however, when the survivors of the Victoria returned home a year and a half later. They were called to testify regarding Gómez’s allegations against Magellan. The survivors denied Gómez’s charges, and the captain of the San Antonio was released from prison. It was too late for Magellan’s wife and child, however, as they had died before the Victoria’s return.

  What of the Trinidad’s crew? Following months of repairs, the Trinidad attempted to sail eastward across the Pacific Ocean. But repelled by the winds, after many months she arrived back where she started at the Spice Islands. This time, however, the Portuguese had assembled in force. They captured the crew of the Trinidad and imprisoned them in India. Of the Trinidad’s crew, only four lived to see Spain again. One of those four was Espinosa. Carvalho died of illness while the Trinidad was undergoing repairs.

  As for the Victoria, she was lost with all hands in the mid-Atlantic on a subsequent voyage.

  In terms of spices, of riches, the expedition failed. The strait was impossible to navigate. Later expeditions found it easier to go around the cape, not many leagues south. The westward route was too long, too tortuous, and the price in human lives too costly. All Spanish claims to the Spice Islands were sold to Portugal in 1529 for three hundred fifty thousand golden ducats. But in terms of human achievement, of exploration, Magellan’s circumnavigation of the world remains unsurpassed.

  GLOSSARY

  aft - Toward the rear of the vessel.

  armada - A fleet of ships.

  astern - Behind the ship.

  atoll - A ring-shaped coral reef or a string of closely spaced small coral islands.
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  ballast - Weight placed low inside a ship, necessary to balance the ship upon the waters.

  Basque - A person from the Basque province in northern Spain.

  bilge - An enclosed section at the bottom of the ship where seawater collects.

  bow - The front of the ship.

  bulkhead - A wall-like structure inside a ship.

  bulwarks - The built-up sidewalls above the deck of a ship.

  capstan - A barrel-like mechanism, designed for hauling in heavy loads such as an anchor. The capstan is rotated circularly by pushing long handles that extend like spokes out of the top of the capstan.

  careen - To lay a ship on its side for repairs, caulking, and cleaning.

  Castile - A former kingdom in central Spain covering most of its interior. Castile means “castle” in Spanish.

  caulk - To plug the seams of a boat with oakum or other waterproof materials; to make the ship watertight.

  chanteys - Songs sung by sailors while at work.

  ducat - A gold coin, worth about forty-two U.S. dollars today.

  ebb tide - The flowing of water back into the sea, resulting in a low tide onshore (the opposite of flood, which results in a high tide).

  el paso - “The passage” in Spanish. Today this difficult passage through the South American continent is known as the Strait of Magellan.

  flagrante delicto - In the very act of committing the offense.

  fo’c’sle - (abbreviation and proper pronunciation for forecastle) The forward section of the ship, directly behind the bow and forward of the foremast. In the ships, these were raised decks, accessible by a companionway or ladder. In later vessels, the crew’s sleeping quarters were enclosed under the fo’c’sle.

  gangplank - A movable platform that extends from the gangway of a ship to a dock, pier, or shore, used by the crew to embark and disembark.

  gangway - The place at a ship’s side where people embark and disembark.

  garrote - A former method of execution in Spain. An iron collar was placed around the condemned person’s neck and tightened by means of screws. Death occurred by strangulation.