by Paul Doherty
Columbus still maintained an iron discipline, placing lookouts with strict instructions, for the entire coastline was protected by a long line of cruel-looking reefs which could rip the bottom out of any of his craft. The Captain General soon proved he was a brilliant navigator. Time and again he managed to thread through these reefs into naturally formed harbours and ports. They landed on two more islands which were christened Isabella and Hispaniola. The natives were like those they first met, friendly, unarmed, innocent and eager to please. Sometimes Columbus took a few with him, determined that they would be his scouts who would eventually lead him to the great kingdom of the Khan.
Matthias found the voyage strange. Blue skies, soft white fluffy clouds, gentle breezes and warm sun prevailed. He recalled how, in England, autumn would be giving way to winter, with savage cold winds, driving sleet, dying leaves and iron-grey skies. Matthias was still perplexed, unable to establish what was so special about this place: why the Rose Demon and his followers such as Morgana had been so determined that he come here.
Even the Captain General now suspected that, perhaps, he had not reached the Indies. He took careful note of the fruits, trees, birds and creatures they discovered. Some of these were killed and dried for passage back to Spain but the Captain General still cherished dreams of casks of silver.
They eventually reached Colba, which Columbus renamed Cuba: high mountains soaring up to the sky, strange palm trees. The natives were similar to those they had met earlier, bringing out beds made out of netting, small gold figurines, harpoons and fruit. They listened patiently to Columbus’ interminable questions about Golden Cathay, nodding and pointing, as the others had, further south. All of them were friendly and showed no fear of Columbus and his party until the word ‘Caniba’ was used. In Cuba the daughter of a chieftain came aboard. De Torres questioned her closely. ‘The Caniba,’ de Torres explained, having listened carefully to the young woman, ‘live further to the south.’ He paused as the young woman chattered again. ‘They paint their faces red and have cords tied along their legs and arms,’ de Torres translated. ‘They come in long canoes and raid these islands. They take the people and use their flesh as meat: small babies they regard as a delicacy. They show no mercy or compassion.’
Columbus, seated on a chair with the girl at his feet, told de Torres to tell the girl that she need not fear. He, with his bombards, would destroy the Caniba. The young woman listened attentively. Her soft, gentle face, however, remained concerned. She replied slowly, carefully using her fingers to paint pictures in the air.
‘You cannot kill them,’ de Torres explained to Columbus and the rest. ‘They are as many as the grains in the sand. They fear no one.’
A few days later they reached the island of Bohio. Its young cacique or chieftain, who called himself Cuacagnari, showed Columbus and his party some of the terrors of the Caniba. The chieftain, a young man of no more than twenty summers, met them on the beach bringing gifts of fruit and the juice of mastic trees which Columbus recognised as valuable and hoped to take back to Spain. The conversation followed the line of others, de Torres translating. Columbus described the glory of Spain, the power of Ferdinand and Isabella, the strength of their bombards and again asked where was Cathay or Cipango? The cacique listened attentively and again, to Columbus’ exasperation, pointed further south. However, he made signs with his hands that they should go no further. He, too, talked of Caniba and brought forward three of his subjects: these had several ugly wounds on their arms and legs, as if a dog had taken great bites out of them though the flesh had healed well. The cacique explained how these people had been captured by the Caniba. They had begun to eat them alive but then they had escaped. Columbus and his party stared in disbelief. When they returned to their ships, the Captain General and the Pinzon brothers debated whether they should sail further south or change tack. A dispute broke out and the following day, without taking his leave, Martin Pinzon and the Pinta crew slipped their moorings and left, determined to make their own discoveries. Columbus continued his journey. One morning, towards the end of November, he came to a small island. He fired a bombard for he knew that the news of their arrival had spread the length and breadth of the archipelago. The natives would be expecting him and invariably flocked down to the beach. This time there was no such reception: the beach was empty, the trees, a long, dark forbidding line.
‘Fitzosbert! Baldini!’ Columbus ordered. ‘Take the boat and go ashore!’
Two of the sailors were ordered to go with them as an escort. All four were armed with crossbows, swords and daggers. The boat was beached, the two sailors left on guard. Matthias with Baldini entered the dark line of trees. Matthias was now used to such forests, with their palm trees very similar to those he had seen on the Canaries, gaily coloured birds, strange smells, the chattering clatter of the jungle around him. They found a trackway, Baldini going first. Now and again they’d stop to leave a mark to ensure they did not get lost. They must have journeyed for some time, and the deeper they went into the jungle, the more concerned Matthias became. He suspected they were being watched: he was sure he had seen dark figures slip through the jungle on either side of him.
‘I think we should return.’ Matthias stopped.
He armed his crossbow. At the same time came the thud of a bombard from the Santa Maria, a prearranged signal that something was wrong. Matthias, not waiting for Baldini’s agreement, turned and ran back along the trackway. He stopped and looked over his shoulder: Baldini was following him. Matthias also glimpsed something else, a flash of red amongst the trees.
‘We are being followed!’ he shouted, and ran on.
Because he was on the trackway, he was certain they could move faster than their pursuers. Matthias, drenched in sweat, kept looking to the right and left, fearful lest the pursuers encircle them and cut off their escape. At last he turned a bend and saw the beach stretching out before them. He glimpsed the Santa Maria. The two sailors had pushed the boat back into the shallows and were waiting for them. He turned to urge Baldini to run faster but the young Spaniard had stopped, chest heaving. He was smiling, staring strangely at Matthias.
‘Come on!’ Matthias urged.
‘Why, Creatura bona atque parva?’ The words sounded so strange in this exotic, humid, strange-smelling jungle: a far cry from the greenery of Gloucestershire, the cool darkness of the church at Tenebral. ‘These are our friends, Matthias. These are my subjects. I will die to become one of them but you have nothing to fear.’
Matthias heard a shout from behind him. He turned and stared in horror. Two natives had stepped on to the track, blocking his way. Matthias had never seen such fierceness: tall men, darker-skinned than the natives he had met, with cords wrapped high along the calves of their legs. Each carried a club or axe. Their faces reminded him of ghouls, red ochre round the eyes, the cheeks and mouth smeared in white: blue and gold cockatoo feathers pushed into their cropped, matted hair. Matthias took a step forward. Both men were looking past him, eyes on Baldini as if they recognised him.
‘Caniba!’ Matthias spat out the word.
The leader stepped forward, mouth open, teeth like that of a dog, sharp and jagged. Matthias brought the crossbow up and fired, the shaft hit the man full in the chest. The other leapt forward. Matthias struck him with the crossbow and burst into a run, down the sun-dappled forest path. Behind him he heard a cry, a howl, long and blood-chilling.
The forest became alive with sound. Matthias turned to his left. Dark shapes were now running through the trees but, because of the undergrowth, not as fast as him. He reached the beach. Matthias heard the crash of a bombard, saw a puff of smoke and a stone ball crashed into the jungle behind him. He was now running for the boat. A terrible scream echoed from the forest behind him. He did not know whether it was Baldini or one of his pursuers. His chest ached, his legs felt heavy. He reached the shoreline, the water was cold as he splashed out, arms extended and he was hoisted aboard. One of the sailors was screaming.
Matthias heard the twang of a crossbow, oars splashing and the boat pulled away.
Matthias stumbled to his knees and gasped in astonishment. The entire beach was filling with Caniba, armed with spears and clubs, their coloured, jaunty headdresses bobbing in the breeze. These surged down to the water line, shouting their war cries, waving spears and clubs. Matthias kept still as the oarsmen cursed him. The boat was small and narrow and there was a danger that it would be upset.
‘To the left!’ one of them shouted.
Matthias looked over. Canoes were now being brought down to the water line but, at last, the sailors were out of danger. The boat bobbed against the side of the Santa Maria even as Matthias heard the Captain General order the bombards to be fired again. The three men climbed over the rails: the boat was secured, the anchor raised and the Santa Maria turned for the open sea.
35
A few weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Matthias crouched at the foot of the mast, feeling the Santa Maria rock gently beneath him. The night was silent. Matthias slipped in and out of dreams of former Christmas Eves: he was a young boy in Sutton Courteny. The snow was falling and he and Christina were hurrying up the path to church. They were going to help his father put up the crib in the Lady Chapel, adorn the transepts and rood screen with red-berried holly and the magical ivy. The church bell was tolling. Matthias was given the task of taking the baby Jesus and putting it before the high altar; the statue of the Christ child would not be put in the crib until Christmas morning. Then he was at Oxford, he and Santerre singing in the choir, ‘Oh puer natus’. And, of course, there was Barnwick; Rosamund teasing him, kneeling before Matthias in their chamber, warming the posset cups whilst making Matthias guess what she was giving him for Christmas.
Matthias opened his eyes and looked up at the starlit sky. In a week the year would draw to a close. Since the attack by the Caniba very little had happened. Of Baldini there had been no further sign. Matthias had told the Captain General that his companion had been killed outright. The Captain General pursed his lips and nodded. Baldini’s death and the savage foray of the Caniba had clearly shown they were not in Paradise. Many of the crew now loudly protested that they weren’t in Cathay. Columbus was openly worried: they had been almost three months amongst the islands and, although he’d collected exotic fruits, plants and animals, there was very little gold or silver.
Martin Pinzon’s Pinta had been reported further along the coast: the Captain General wondered if Pinzon had discovered anything fresh. He was making plans to go searching for his erstwhile Captain once Christmas had come and gone. So far the Santa Maria had not left the waters of the great island of Bohio. Cuacagnari, the local chief, was still friendly, wetting Columbus’ appetite for treasure with small gifts such as a statue, a mask all hammered out of purest gold. The young chieftain also talked of lands further to the south, where the palaces were of costly material and the streets paved with gold.
Matthias breathed in deeply and abruptly stopped. He had become used to the heavy perfume of the islands, the strange sweet smells of the plants mixing with the rotting vegetation, and the salty tang from the sea. Yet, for a moment, he was sure he had smelt the heavy fragrance of a rose garden, as if he were back in England on a summer’s day. He lay back, mocking his own imagination. Then he caught it again, as if someone had splashed rosewater over his face.
Matthias went cold and stumbled to his feet. Something was wrong. He looked towards the stern castle. He could see no figure against the night sky. The Santa Maria bumped as if something were scraping along the bottom of the hull. Matthias scrambled for the alarm bell and rang it. The sound of grinding grew. Matthias looked to starboard: he could see the lights of the Nina ahead of him. Men were scrambling to their feet. Columbus came out on deck. Lanterns were lit. Juan Delcrose came down from the stern castle, his eyes heavy with sleep.
‘In God’s name, what’s wrong?’ Columbus shouted.
Men were peering over the sides even as Delcrose fell to his knees and confessed he had fallen asleep. Escobedo came scrambling up from the hold.
‘We’ve hit the rocks!’ he cried. ‘Long and jagged, well below the water line!’
‘Where?’ Columbus cried.
‘In the bows!’
The boat was lowered, desperate attempts were made to move the Santa Maria off the gap-toothed reef. However, a wind rose, the swell increased and the Santa Maria was driven further on to the rocks. Sailors below reported that the seams were beginning to open so, just before dawn, Columbus gave the order to abandon ship. The crew had planned to spend Christmas Day feasting and junketing. Instead, under Columbus’ lashing tongue, the Santa Maria, now holed beyond repair, was stripped of all its movables, which were brought to the beach or across to the Nina.
Two days later Columbus addressed the crews of both ships. The Captain General stood on a large sea chest, hands on hips, his face grey with exhaustion. He seemed to have aged in a matter of days but his voice was still strong, his chin set in determination.
‘There are too many,’ he began, ‘for the Nina to take.’ He let his words sink in. ‘We have travelled far and discovered much. It is time to return to Spain.’ He flung a hand out. ‘You saw how little time it took us to reach here. The journey home will be even shorter.’ He paused. ‘But not all of us will be able to go.’ He stilled the murmur with his hand. ‘By the powers given to me, I have decided, having consulted with officers, to found a colony here. I shall call it the Villa de la Natividad in honour of Christmas Day. I take the wreck of the Santa Maria as a sign from God, on the day his Son became man, that such a town be founded on these islands.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘The men who shall stay here will continue to search for gold and silver. You will be left well provisioned with food, arms and munitions. The cacique has promised his support.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘It is not too harsh a sentence: the land is pleasant, the sea warm, the islands well stocked with food, the natives are friendly, and the women. .’ Columbus let his words hang in the air. A shrewd man, he knew that many might prefer such a tempting offer than to be bundled abroad the Nina for an arduous journey home.
‘And what about you?’ a seaman cried.
‘I intend to leave on the Nina within the next few days. I shall go looking for Pinzon, return to Spain and, within six months, I shall return with new ships, troops and supplies. I have decided that, before we leave, a stockade will be built. The cacique and his men will help build huts. I promise; those who remain will not suffer because they have done so,’ Columbus now spoke more slowly, ‘when it comes to the sharing out of rewards and honours from their Majesties in Spain. Forty men will remain under the following officers: Diego de Harana, Pedro Guitirres and the Englishman, Matthias Fitzosbert.’ Columbus jumped down from the chest. ‘Who else will volunteer?’
Men leapt to their feet. Matthias, sitting with his back to a palm tree, closed his eyes and groaned. He knew the wrecking of the Santa Maria had been no accident. Even Columbus suspected treachery but that seemed incredible. Delcrose was one of Columbus’ principal supporters, a superb seaman and part owner of the Santa Maria. He confessed to falling asleep, claiming he had never felt so exhausted. Such a tiredness swept over him that he failed to ensure the Santa Maria kept in line with the Nina and so it had drifted upon the coral reef.
Matthias knew different. He recalled the sweet, heady smell of the roses and quietly resigned himself to the way the game was being played out.
The last week of the year was used by Columbus to build a stockade on a promontory overlooking the coral-edged sea. Trees, and wood from the wreck, were prepared to build a small stockade whilst, within the enclosure, the cacique’s men helped build huts, showing Columbus and his officers how they were to be laid out. One small gate was built into the side of the stockade, not far from a ready supply of water. The other looked out towards the forest and was protected by the bombards taken from the Santa Maria. Two huts were set aside for arms and provisions. A makeshift parapet walk
was set up and a small tower.
Columbus had the men assembled, solemnly proclaimed the colony’s new name, gave de Harana and Guitirres his last orders, then he and the rest, having taken leave of the cacique, embarked on the Nina. Just before the ship left, with the natives assembled along the shoreline and the men of the newly founded garrison standing on the promontory, Columbus ordered the Nina to fire shot into what remained of the wreck of the Santa Maria — a farewell to his newly founded colony, as well as a harsh reminder to the natives of the power of Spain.
By 4 January Columbus had gone. He had taken no notice of Matthias, not even explaining why he had been chosen, though Matthias sensed the reason. Columbus did not trust him. He had been foisted on the Captain General by the Inquisition. He was the first to have seen the light on the first night they reached land. He had also been with Baldini, the only man Columbus had lost on the voyage, and been on deck when the Santa Maria had hit the rock.
Matthias had few regrets. If he returned to Spain what would wait for him? And if he tried to desert, Columbus might then seize the opportunity to use him as an example to others. He found the two officers, Guitirres and de Harana, just as cold: in the days following Columbus’ departure, Matthias was not included by the officers in their deliberations. Indeed, the two men seemed more concerned about vying with each other than maintaining any discipline in the newly founded colony. Matters were allowed to drift. No exercise or arms drill was held. No roster of duties established, whether it be guard duty or keeping the small colony clean. Within a week the place was stinking and the men grew more accustomed to wandering down to the villages or sleeping out in the jungle. Disputes broke out, particularly over women, who seemed fascinated by these new arrivals, ‘the men from Heaven’. Matthias objected but de Harana just shrugged.