Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  As Cristóbal wrote, the island’s paramount cacique met in council with his subordinate caciques and their behiques. They knew the earth was composed of the sea and land, with the heavens above and the underworld below, and agreed the visitors did not live within the sea or the underworld and did not come from lands known, including the great land to the southwest, where men did wear cloth. They debated, and most agreed by process of elimination, that the visitors had come down from the heavens. All agreed, whether spirit or men, the visitors had or could direct awesome power, and, while they appeared friendly, it was too soon to know.

  At dawn on October 14, Cristóbal, Martín, Vicente, and crews boarded the ships’ launches and rowed north along San Salvador’s coast to explore before departing. Cristóbal sought to determine where a fort might be built and capture the guides and interpreters.

  As the launches passed, naked peoples swarmed to the shore, fell to their knees, and gestured at the sky, imploring the visitors to come ashore and trade gifts from the heavens. Cristóbal and his crews were flattered by the apparent adulation. An elderly man swam to the boats and climbed aboard. Others shouted that the visitors came from the heavens and exhorted that they be brought cazabi and water. Cristóbal and his men inferred that these peoples believed they had come from Heaven.

  As the visitors explored, Bakako, Yuni, and Abana sat on the beach watching the “ships” in the bay, planning to swim to them later. Guanahaníans from all over the island had come to behold the novel beings, and Bakako and Yuni met friends to whom they proudly displayed their beads from the heavens. Bakako thought of Kamana, and, as if the spirits had heard his thoughts, her shadow soon appeared on the ground before him. He looked up to her.

  “I hoped to find you here,” Kamana said. “I didn’t want to come all the way here and see every Guanahanían but you.”

  “I was just thinking of you. Really.”

  Kamana smiled, introduced herself to Yuni and Abana, and sat down with them. Abana studied her and wondered about her relationship to Bakako. Kamana asked, “Have you met the visitors?”

  Bakako related the last two days with excitement and showed Kamana his object. “It’s from the heavens.”

  “Is that what the behiques say?” Kamana doubted. “It looks like a pearl.”

  “I have touched the visitors myself and paddled to that hulk, which they call a ‘ship.’” Bakako pointed to the Santa María.

  “A ‘ship’?” Kamana laughed.

  “Yes,” Yuni replied. “Their cacique told Bakako that himself.”

  Kamana looked into Bakako’s eyes. “You touched and spoke to them? You should be careful.” She paused and reflected. “Everybody is saying they come from the heavens. Is that true?”

  “Probably.”

  “But I heard they have hair on their faces and smell badly from sweat because they’re covered in cloth. They apparently don’t bathe, and their face hairs are full of sand and crumbs. They eat, drink, piss, and poop like men.” Kamana paused. “They want to lie with the women.”

  “That’s correct,” Bakako reflected. “But, wherever they come from, they are knowing and powerful. Their so-called ships are made from trees, and they are carved in unknown ways to make them enormous.”

  Bakako and Kamana chatted comfortably and decided to walk north with Yuni to see where the visitors had paddled. Bakako walked Abana to the path through the forest and sent her home, disappointed again. Bakako had obtained Father’s permission to swim to the ships if other Guanahaníans did so. The three children began ambling north, and, before noon, they saw the visitors’ canoes returning south. Many Guanahaníans swam to greet them.

  Bakako turned to Kamana. “We’re going to swim out to them and see them closeup. Want to come?”

  “I didn’t talk about that with my parents.” Kamana looked to the beach. “I have to leave soon to help my mother.”

  “Wait here and we’ll be back. You should hold our weird pearls.” The boys handed Kamana their objects.

  Bakako and Yuni waded into the gentle surf and waited for the visitors’ canoes to approach so they could easily intercept them and, together with others, swam to meet them. Bakako discerned that there were Guanahaníans riding in the canoes, all young men or teenage boys not much older than himself and, as the distance narrowed, Bakako led Yuni to swim in the path of the canoe bearing the cacique. They waved to the visitors, and, to Bakako’s surprise, the visitors ceased paddling and motioned for the boys to climb aboard. Bakako and Yuni glanced at each other, unsure whether to accept, but Bakako reflected that the other Guanahaníans aboard satisfied Father’s permission. There was scant time to decide, and Bakako let the visitors pull Yuni and himself aboard.

  The cacique smiled at them, and Bakako wondered whether he remembered they had met. Bakako asked the Guanahaníans what was happening, and they indicated they had been invited to visit on the great hulks where they would receive gifts from the heavens. All were excited. Bakako and Yuni realized they were the youngest Guanahaníans aboard—Yuni by quite a few years—and this thrilled and frightened them even more.

  The cacique’s canoe soon pulled aside his ship and Bakako, Yuni, and the other young Guanahaníans climbed onto it. The visitors offered them some food, a dried meat like hutia but not as spicy, and motioned for them to sit on the deck as Admiral—as they addressed him—met them one by one. Bakako studied as other Guanahaníans were led separately to Admiral, who sat on a strange duho on a ledge above.

  When it was Bakako’s turn, Yuni also rose, and the boys didn’t know whether Yuni should come, too. Admiral waved both forward to stand before him. Both trembled.

  Cristóbal concluded immediately that the younger boy was too young and addressed only Bakako. Cristóbal guessed he was about Diego’s age and wondered if it was the same boy he had seen the day before.

  Cristóbal pointed to himself and said, “Admiral,” and then pointed to Bakako’s mouth, indicating that he should repeat.

  Bakako responded, “Admiral.”

  Cristóbal thought he recognized the boy’s voice. He pointed to Bakako and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Bakako.”

  Cristóbal repeated, “Bakako.” Bakako smiled and nodded.

  Cristóbal pointed to the tall appendages looming above and said, “Mast,” and then to the wood on which they stood and said, “Deck.”

  Bakako repeated, “Mast. Deck.”

  Cristóbal spoke quite slowly. “In the name of Christ and King Fernando and Queen Isabel.”

  Bakako slowly repeated the strange sounds as best he could, and Cristóbal was satisfied with the boy’s memory, facility with language, and composure.

  Cristóbal pointed to the island. “Guanahaní.”

  Bakako nodded and repeated, “Guanahaní,” with the proper inflection.

  Cristóbal stood and slowly waved his hand across the seaward horizon and shrugged, asking in Castilian for the names of neighboring islands. Cristóbal pointed to Guanahaní again, repeated its name and waved seaward again, shrugging his shoulders.

  Bakako understood and replied, “Samana. Manigua [Rum Cay]. Yuma. Saomete.” He thought for a moment, considered the most distant lands, and waved across the southern horizon. “Cuba. Bohío. Yamaye [Jamaica]. Boriquén [Puerto Rico]. Guanín. Matininó. Carib.”

  Cristóbal was satisfied with the apparent geographic knowledge, and indicated to Juan de la Cosa that Bakako should be taken. He would be the last chosen of seven. Cristóbal ordered the mainsails unfurled, the anchors hoisted, and, as the ships got under way, that those natives not selected be dispatched overboard so they could swim ashore. Those seized were to be restrained.

  Bakako and Yuni became alarmed as visitors climbed cords high above to let an enormous cloth drop. They were frightened as cloths unfurled on the other two ships, as well. They were horrified when the visitors pulled the cord that held the ship in the sea, for they understood the visitors meant to depart. They were terrified when the men on deck b
randished their sharp weapons and encircled them, barking unknown threats or commands. They were violated when the men brusquely pushed them to the deck and made them kneel on their hands and knees.

  Yuni started to cry, holding close to Bakako. A visitor clutched Yuni by the hair of his scalp and yanked him to his feet, and Yuni screamed. Bakako rose to defend his brother, but another visitor kicked Bakako hard in the stomach and shoved him back on his knees, where he curled in pain. Yuni shrieked in terror.

  Visitors led Yuni and some others to the rail of the ship and pointed for them to jump overboard, and the others quickly did so. Yuni shook his head that he wouldn’t and called to Bakako. Bakako screamed that he jump and escape. A visitor clutched Yuni and slapped him hard in the face, shouting and pointing to the sea. Bakako winced with rage at the slap and tried to rise but was kicked again, this time hard in the face. Bakako implored Yuni to jump, but Yuni froze, and a visitor picked him up and threw him overboard. The visitors tightened the circle about Bakako and the remaining Guanahaníans, waving their weapons occasionally to show they were prepared to use them. Bakako peered through the rail of the ship to glimpse Yuni swimming to shore, wailing in panic.

  The breeze began to fill the mainsail, and Cristóbal and Pero Alonso navigated the Santa María toward the passage in the barrier reef, followed closely by the Niña and Pinta. Bakako saw Yuni rise on the beach and run desperately into the forest toward home. He shuddered with dread as he beheld the barrier reef slip past as the ship entered the ocean, scorched by a vision of Father warning him to remain within.

  Cristóbal ordered a running southwest and Juan de la Cosa directed the crew to unfurl the remaining sails. Bakako watched with incredulity as they filled with wind. He was aghast at the speed the ship quickly reached to depart Guanahaní. Soon, he could see the entirety of the island. It grew smaller, and the Guanahaníans stared at one another, dreading their doom—unsure whether they would be enslaved for life, eaten, or simply slaughtered. In anguish, Bakako honored Yúcahu and pleaded for protection.

  As the island grew distant, the visitors encircling the Guanahaníans relaxed their guard and motioned for them to sit. A boy not much older than Bakako brought them more water. Bakako watched the visitors withdraw their weapons entirely and their cacique Admiral then approached to speak.

  Admiral held his gold piece aloft, waved to the sea, and shrugged his shoulders, asking in Castilian the direction to the nearest island filled with gold. The Guanahaníans murmured among themselves and quickly pointed southwest toward Manigua, the nearest large island. Bakako studied how quickly the ship veered in that direction.

  Admiral smiled and spoke softly in his strange tongue to each Guanahanían, communicating goodwill and friendship, inviting them to be comfortable. Admiral then left them alone unguarded, free to stand, sit, or lie as they pleased. Soon, Bakako listened as Admiral led the visitors—now his captors—in an areíto. As night fell, the captors gestured for the Guanahaníans to lie on the “deck” to sleep. Bakako realized that was how the captors slept themselves, as they appeared not to know of hammocks.

  That evening, Cristóbal recorded in his journal that the naked peoples were unskilled in arms and it would not be necessary to build a fort. He was aware of the sovereigns’ concern with the grounds for enslavement of Canary Island heathens and indicated that, were the sovereigns to so order, Guanahaní’s peoples could be brought to Castile or kept as captives on the island because fifty men could subjugate them to do all that one wished.

  On Guanahaní, word spread that the visitors had taken captives. In shock from the violations, Yuni clutched Mother. Mother wept that her son had been captured and she would never see him again. Abana clutched Mother, frightened by Bakako’s capture, Yuni’s terror, and Mother’s despair. Kamana was stunned her chosen had been taken. Father gasped in anguish that he should have known better than to let the boys swim to these spirits or men from the heavens. Father now realized they were evil.

  SEARCH FOR GOLD AND CIPANGU,

  October 14–25, 1492

  Bakako lay huddled on deck with his fellow Lucayans watching with astonishment as the captors—be they spirits or men—worked their ship at night. He gazed up the towering masts to the great cloths stretched tautly by the wind before the stars and understood the wind pushed the ship forward. He felt the ship sway side to side with tremendous inertia, tipping to a far greater angle than a canoe yet springing back to right itself. It creaked and moaned continuously as it lurched, as if speaking to Guabancex and Guataúba to please them. At intervals, a young captor rose to chant an areíto to the spirits.

  Cristóbal rose at dawn and directed his page Pedro and servant Juan to gather the captives for breakfast and instruction. The sovereigns’ representatives and some armed seamen attended, as well. Cristóbal sat on a stool with the Guanahaníans kneeling before him. They were shocked by the color of Juan’s skin and studied him closely.

  Cristóbal offered them hardtack and honey and showed them how to smother the biscuit with the honey. Bakako and the others enjoyed the taste. Cristóbal asked Sánchez for some coins and then placed one on the deck and said, “Guanahaní.” He placed another on the deck and pointed to their destination.

  Bakako understood. “Manigua.”

  Cristóbal handed Bakako the remaining coins, waved across the entire horizon, and pointed to the deck, and Bakako began setting the coins down to represent the islands neighboring Guanahaní. One of the captives, a tall teenager named Yutowa, had traveled extensively and adjusted the coins’ placement to reflect his estimation of actual distances. Quickly, the Guanahaníans mapped much of their known world.

  Cristóbal pointed to the gold piece he had obtained and then to Sánchez’s sack, gesturing that he wanted the sack filled with gold, as well as many other sacks. Slowly, he pointed to the Guanahaníans, to the sack, to the gold, and then to Guanahaní and spoke in Castilian. “I will return you to Guanahaní after you take me to trade for sacks of gold and find gold mines.” He repeated the motions. Bakako surmised Admiral’s intent and told his brothers they would be returned home if they filled a sack with gold—and they were shocked by the daunting improbability of achieving this.

  Pedro and Juan glanced at each other, to the Guanahaníans, and then to their master. They knew the Admiral’s promise was a lie. The captives would be taken to Castile, regardless of how many sacks were filled with gold. Juan wasn’t surprised by the lie.

  Cristóbal understood the Guanahaníans’ dejection. He gave each a hawk’s bell and invited them to enjoy more biscuit and honey. He spoke softly, gesturing to ask if the roll of the ship sickened them. He took them on a brief tour of the Santa María, explaining the sails and the tiller and showing them a compass and ampolleta. He evaluated them further and chose three to transfer for use on the Pinta and a fourth for the Niña when the ships next anchored. Cristóbal decided to retain Bakako, Yutowa, and one other for himself.

  As the ships approached Manigua, Bakako and his brothers discussed escape. They knew their captors didn’t understand Taíno, and they spoke openly among themselves to not arouse suspicion with whispers. They knew Manigua had scant gold—no more than Guanahaní—and that Admiral wouldn’t be satisfied. But they were confident that the Maniguans, as Taínos, would assist and shelter their flight. Bakako and Yutowa now knew the Castilian word for gold, and they assured Admiral with gestures that the Maniguans wore large gold bracelets on their arms and legs—well worth Admiral’s visit. Cristóbal later recorded in his journal that he suspected these assurances were nonsense, invented that they might escape.

  The ships anchored off Manigua at sundown on October 15, and the transfer of captives to the Pinta and Niña was accomplished before nightfall. That evening, Maniguans brought their canoes aside the ships to meet the visitors, and Bakako trembled as he contemplated jumping overboard into one of them. The shore was quickly reachable, and the captors would have difficulty pursuing in darkness.

  Bakako an
guished that if he remained aboard he would never see his family or Kamana again. He feared harm regardless of what he chose, either by remaining or if he was caught fleeing. He wasn’t certain the captors would harm him if he remained, and he sensed they wanted to use him. They had hurt and captured him, but perhaps Admiral’s promise to return him to Guanahaní was sincere. They had hurt Yuni but let him go. Admiral had directed the Guanahaníans’ capture, but Admiral also had fed them.

  As the moon rose, the third captive on the Santa María stood and entreated Bakako and Yutowa to join in him in escape. Bakako shuddered with indecision. Yet a day before, he had rashly climbed aboard Admiral’s canoe to be captured! Should he now rashly jump overboard to be caught and brutally beaten? A vision of Yuni frozen motionless overcame him, and he felt a timeless inertia envelop and suspend his thoughts and seize every muscle.

  The third captive called to Maniguan canoeists close by, who responded they understood and were ready, and the captive abruptly bolted overboard, whereupon the canoeists quickly pulled him from the sea and began paddling furiously to shore. Bakako fought desperately to muster his courage to flee. But the ship’s deck erupted in commotion as the captors jumped into their canoe to give chase, and Bakako realized it was too late. Bakako watched the Lucayan canoe ground ashore, proud that it was by far the faster boat, and saw his fellow Guanahanían vanish into the forest with his liberators. Suddenly, Bakako felt the harsh grip of pale hands wrench him to the deck, and he winced in pain—both body and soul—as he and Yutowa were brusquely shoved into the ship’s hold for the remainder of the anchorage at Manigua.

  At dawn, Cristóbal named the island Santa María de la Concepción in honor of the Virgin and debarked with Escobedo and Sánchez to make the declarations rendering it Castile’s possession. Naked peoples met Cristóbal on the beach, and he observed that they were the same as the Guanahaníans—sharing similar speech, the same skin color and nakedness, and poverty in possessions. They had little gold but jewelry, and Cristóbal soon returned to his ship intent on sailing to a larger island west, having interpreted gestures of those he met as indicating the larger island held a gold mine. But, before departing, the Guanahanían aboard the Niña jumped ship, also escaping in a canoe of assisting Maniguans.