Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  Bakako didn’t know enough to translate, and Guacanagarí used gestures to make the communication, drawing a map in the sand to show where the Caribes came from.

  Cristóbal pondered how to establish his settlement. Advising Guacanagarí he was already the king and queen’s vassal and entitled to their protection would likely lead to hostilities. Cristóbal pointed to the sailors holding the weapons and chose circumspect words, recognizing that Bakako’s translation would introduce even more ambiguity. “My Lord Guacanagarí, my King Fernando and Queen Isabel can protect you from these Caribes and destroy and enslave them. That is what these weapons are for.”

  Following repetition and gestures by Admiral and Bakako, Guacanagarí thought he understood, and mused that protection from Caribe raids was desirable. But he was seized by the realization that an alliance with Admiral could command the respect of the other paramount Haitian caciques. Admiral’s offer to use weapons against the Caribes alone was suspicious, and the pale beings might yet be revealed to be evil. Regardless, they were so vastly outnumbered that the risk their weapons would be turned on his subjects seemed remote.

  “Let’s commemorate our friendship,” Guacanagarí replied.

  Guacanagarí led Admiral and his subjects back to Guarico’s central plaza. Before all, he solemnly placed a necklace adorned with gold about Admiral’s neck and gave him a face mask finely inlaid with golden eyes, ears, and other features. “This is my gift to you. It indicates I have presented my soul to you in lasting friendship.”

  Bakako couldn’t translate, but Cristóbal understood Guacanagarí’s intent to make a strong, intimate statement. As the Indian stood naked before him, Cristóbal realized that Guacanagarí had a regal presence rivaling the most powerful Castilian noblemen, and he perceived Guacanagarí as a vassal to Fernando and Isabel with equal peerage to a Canarian or Guinean king.

  “Your Lordship permitting, I plan to stay some days with you before returning to Castile. Is that acceptable?” Bakako translated as best he could.

  “That would be my pleasure and desire.” Guacanagarí nodded affirmatively.

  “It’s good you will take the Cubans. When I depart, I also would leave some of my men here. They would live in or near your village and trade gold with you.” Cristóbal pointed to his sailors and the ground where they stood and refrained from using the word settle-ment—even though Bakako wouldn’t understand it—or mentioning the fort intended. He pointed to himself, gesturing he would leave and then return to trade for more gold. “I will return with others and our trade will increase.” Cristóbal watched Guacanagarí consider his gestures and listen to Bakako and grasped that the language barrier had facilitated omission of his true intent.

  Guacanagarí was pleased, perceiving an arrangement to shelter the crew displaced by the vessel’s demise and facilitate the development of a lasting, exclusive alliance with the clothed men. “I’m happy to accommodate your men as part of our mutual understanding. My people seek to trade and otherwise ally with you and your cacique Fernando and wife Isabel.”

  Bakako relayed, “Admiral men Guarico. Trade gold. Guacanagarí yes.”

  Cristóbal surmised Española’s initial settlement had been approved and sought reconfirmation. “I am grateful my men can remain. Your people will be protected from the Caribes.” Cristóbal evaluated Guacanagarí’s reaction carefully as Bakako attempted translation, certain Guacanagarí did not perceive the ultimate intention.

  At the day’s end, Cristóbal returned to the Niña, exhausted. He mused again on the Lord’s design for the wreck of the Santa María, reflecting that the ship had grounded in the calmest seas while traveling a route already traversed and known to the crewmen who had visited Guarico. He recalled that the swell’s lapping on the reef had been audible from a distance and turned to his journal to record the past two days.

  Cristóbal concluded for his sovereigns that the Lord’s design was to cause the ship to ground so that a settlement be founded. Prior to the wreck, he had never intended to stay long at the site and would have moved on quickly, missing the terrific opportunity to trade for gold now understood. Even after the grounding, the ship could have been saved but for the crew’s treachery and he wouldn’t have stayed.

  He also promised his sovereigns that the entire island—which he believed larger than Portugal—could be subjugated with the men he had because the inhabitants had no arms and were cowardly. The fort to be built was not even necessary for his men’s protection, but would acquaint the Indians with the sovereigns’ skills and powers, so that the Indians would obey with love and fear. On his return, his men would have found the gold mines and, within three years of colonization, the sovereigns would achieve such profit that they could undertake the recapture of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem— as he had promised in Grenada and to which they had scoffed.

  At dawn on December 27, Guacanagarí, his brother, and another relative came aboard the Niña to relate they were gathering as much gold as possible and to invite Admiral to dwell longer in Guarico. Cristóbal declined, explaining that he had to return to Castile to report to his sovereigns. He invited them to dine on board.

  “I would be honored if my brother and relative Xamabo could accompany you to meet your cacique and his wife,” Guacanagarí stated, with gestures and help from Bakako.

  “I would be honored to bring them,” Cristóbal replied, pleased Guacanagarí understood Castile was land and not Heaven. Cristóbal turned to the brother and Xamabo. “You shall be your Lord’s representatives to meet King Fernando and Queen Isabel.” Certain Bakako wouldn’t understand, he added, “You will pledge your people’s allegiance to Fernando and Isabel and, as their subjects, receive their protection of your people.”

  “Your brother and Xamabo will meet Fernando and Isabel in friendship,” Bakako surmised.

  Guacanagarí was elated and perceived a substantial accomplishment attained. None of Caonabó, Behecchio, or Guarionex could secure a superior relationship with Admiral’s caciques.

  As the men dined, messengers reported to Guacanagarí that the other vessel of pale beings had been sighted at a river to the east, and he informed Admiral, who was shocked. Cristóbal drafted a letter, entreating Martín to sail to him to reunite but refraining from asserting that Martín’s separation had been wrongful, and Guacanagarí dispatched one of his canoes east, bearing a sailor and the letter.

  Cristóbal raged that Martín might simply depart for Spain alone and resolved to establish his settlement quickly. The intended fort would be built with a watchtower and moat beside Guarico’s river. The garrison would be provisioned with a year’s supply of bread, barrels of wine, the expedition’s store of crop seed, most of the weapons and ammunition, and the merchandise intended for trade with the Grand Khan, which could be traded for gold. The garrison would keep the Santa María’s launch to explore for gold and find a better harbor for Española’s first permanent settlement, likely farther east toward Cipangu’s gold mines.

  Cristóbal named his settlement Villa de la Navidad and began selecting the men to remain, which was not difficult because many volunteered. He would have no choice but to release the Cuban captives other than one teenage boy named Abasu, who appeared capable of becoming a good interpreter.

  IN GUACANAGARÍ’S BOHÍO,

  December 28, 1492

  Cristóbal came ashore on December 28 accompanied by Bakako to discuss with Guacanagarí the crewmen to be left behind and their activity while Cristóbal went to Castile. Guacanagarí was eager to discuss these matters, as well as his relationship to Admiral and alliance with Fernando and Isabel. Guacanagarí learned of Cristóbal’s arrival and had him escorted to the finer bohío storing the visitors’ possessions, where palm fronds had been woven to cover a portion of the bohío’s dirt floor.

  Guacanagarí entered the bohío solemnly to present Cristóbal with a necklace bearing a gold medallion, honorific but distinct from the guanín medallions worn by the paramount Haitian caciques, inten
ding the gift be understood as vastly more significant than its gold. Cristóbal was enthralled by its weight and solemnly thanked Guacanagarí for it. The two men sat on ornate duhos, with Bakako at their feet to assist communication and naborias at the door to attend with juice and cazabi. As before, Guacanagarí and Cristóbal gestured frequently to communicate when Bakako appeared unable to understand or translate.

  “About forty of my men will remain with you, and I will build a fortress by the river for them to use,” Cristóbal began. “We will use the planks of the sunken vessel.” Cristóbal saw Bakako didn’t understand. “We will make a house for my men.” Cristóbal stood and walked to where the dirt remained uncovered and drew a picture of a walled fort with a tower and moat. He pointed outside the bohío toward the planking of the Santa María’s hull, which lay broken and scattered in a nearby field.

  “This is a house?” Guacanagarí replied, studying the diagram.

  Bakako turned to Admiral. “House?”

  “Yes. This is a fort where men can go for protection and keep weapons.”

  Bakako couldn’t understand “fort” or “protection” or the statement’s underlying sense and remained silent.

  Guacanagarí moved his finger along the depiction of the wall and gazed upward. “How high is the wall?”

  Cristóbal stretched his hand above his head. “About ten feet.”

  Guacanagarí touched the depiction of the tower and gazed upward again. “How high is this?”

  Cristóbal pointed to a beam high on the bohío wall. “Twenty feet, maybe more.”

  Guacanagarí had marveled at the construction of the Niña and was impressed by the intended structure, realizing that the strength of the wood exceeded the reed of bohíos. But he touched the depiction of the tower and remarked to Bakako that it functioned as a tree or hill for lookouts. He quickly grasped the moat’s function. He realized the structure’s small size and formidable wall meant for it to be more a refuge than a home, and his admiration faded.

  “Why do you need the wall, tower, and ditch?” Guacanagarí pointed to the depictions and shrugged his shoulders.

  Cristóbal surmised Guacanagarí’s inquiry and answered directly. “For protection of the men and gold. We will keep the gold inside.” Bakako now gleaned enough to decipher protection and translated for Guacanagarí.

  “Protection from whom?”

  After translating for Admiral, Bakako gazed at the floor, understanding Guacanagarí’s suspicion.

  “From your enemies, the Caribes. From others who might take the gold.”

  Guacanagarí recognized the words Caribes and gold and didn’t wait for Bakako’s assistance. “Caribe attacks are infrequent. No Haitian will take the gold.” Guacanagarí pointed to the depiction of the wall and then stared into Cristóbal’s eyes. “This is how you build a house in your Castile?”

  “House Castile?” Bakako relayed.

  Cristóbal was surprised, envisioning Mina, but realizing the question focused otherwise. He recalled the walls of Genoa, Scio, London, Galway, and the cities and villages of Portugal and Castile, for century’s essential protection from enemy princes, criminals, plague, and the infidel. “Yes. Every village where I come from has a wall for its protection. Every village.” Bakako simply nodded yes.

  “There are no walls like this in Guarico,” responded Guacanagarí. “There are no walls like this in Marien or anywhere in Haiti.”

  “No Guarico. No Bohío,” Bakako said, pointing to the wall’s depiction. There was silence, and Cristóbal recognized Guacanagarí understood the wall and moat were intended as protection from Guacanagarí’s own people.

  For a moment, Guacanagarí pondered that the leader whom he had just rescued held much distrust. The wall and moat indicated Admiral sought at most an alliance, not a true friendship of peoples. But Guacanagarí refrained from expressing disappointment, reflecting that Admiral’s fear for his men—vastly outnumbered in a place unknown—was natural.

  Bakako waited for Admiral’s response, musing that Admiral and his men frequently were selfish, arrogant, brusque, and disloyal— among themselves alone. Admiral’s indication that his people lived behind walls in their native Castile was revealing of this nature. Bakako suspected Admiral intended these walls to imprison more captives.

  As he considered his response, Cristóbal wondered that the Indians lived idyllically among themselves without walls, in a peaceful state of nature without crime, sin, plague, or war save for Caribe invasion, loving their neighbors as Christians taught but rarely observed. He recalled that the Lord’s city would not have walls when Christ returned and marveled that the Indians appeared to achieve that existence on earth while Christians and others failed. But he was certain that the absence of defenses was backward and cowardly, as well as his sovereigns’ opportunity. He sought to assuage Guacanagarí and lied again. “We will use our fort to protect you from the Caribes. Together, we will become wealthy trading gold.”

  Guacanagarí recognized the word gold again and responded without waiting translation. “We are pleased that you build the house in Guarico. You can use it as the place where you keep the gold. We can arrange to bring gold from throughout my cacicazgo, as well as elsewhere in Haiti and the neighboring islands.”

  “House Guarico good,” Bakako translated. “Guacanagarí bring Admiral gold Bohío. Guacanagarí bring Admiral gold islands.”

  Cristóbal guessed Guacanagarí’s intent and reflected. Navidad likely was east of the gold mines to be discovered, its shoreline unsuitable for a harbor, and reliance on Guacanagarí for collecting gold from other places—no less an exclusive relationship—was unacceptable. But denying exclusivity risked appearing ungrateful for Guacanagarí’s rescue, support, and protection of the settlement, and Cristóbal sought to mislead Guacanagarí yet again. “I’m very grateful for this. We will trade for all the gold you bring us.” Bakako so translated.

  Guacanagarí nodded appreciation and then stood, beckoning Admiral and Bakako to follow him to the neighboring bohío, in which they had stored much of the Santa María’s hardware and equipment. He pointed to various items—including a washbasin, water pitcher, and mirror—and asked how many pieces of gold Admiral wanted for each.

  For weeks, Cristóbal had witnessed Indians freely give and share food and their possessions, exhibiting generosity beyond constraint and, to his and his crews’ perspective, utter guilelessness. He reflected that Guacanagarí was not guileless and had a mercantile instinct. He responded as Domenico had taught him. “I would have to see the gold pieces.”

  The men returned to sit on their duhos in the finer bohío. Guacanagarí continued to probe. “Every year, I direct my subjects to cease work, fast, refrain from their women, and travel to our streams to find gold to do homage to our spirits. Do you seek gold for your spirits?”

  Bakako struggled. “Want gold Christ?”

  “We use gold to trade and for jewelry. King Fernando and Queen Isabel will use the gold for soldiers and weapons to defeat Christ’s enemies, the infidel.”

  “Admiral’s cacique and wife will use the gold to fight enemies,” Bakako guessed.

  Guacanagarí listened to Bakako and was struck by Admiral’s reference to Fernando and Isabel. He suspected that the collection of gold was part of the exercise of caciqual authority and, perhaps in that sense, similar to a Taíno gold homage. He mused that the pale beings were indeed human, organized in a society with caciqual authority like theirs. He was surprised that Fernando and Isabel had enemies. “Who are the enemies of Fernando and Isabel?”

  “Enemy Fernando? Enemy Isabel?” Bakako shrugged his shoulders.

  “Fernando and Isabel are the supreme Christian princes,” Cristóbal responded. “Their enemies are princes of false religions who do not worship Christ and jealous Christian princes.”

  “Fernando and Isabel fight enemies who dishonor the Christ spirit,” Bakako translated, intrigued that the pale men warred among themselves.

  Guacana
garí sought confirmation. “Fernando and Isabel fight enemies?”

  “Yes.” Cristóbal gazed at Guacanagarí’s naked body and reflected that Guacanagarí had the same instincts as a European prince. “They have many enemies, but they are always victorious.” The bitter memory of seven years’ idle wait while the sovereigns struggled to conquer Granada flickered through his thoughts. He added, “King Fernando and Queen Isabel will protect you from the Caribes.”

  “How many wives does King Fernando have? I have many daughters he could choose.”

  “Wives Fernando? Guacanagarí girls.”

  Cristóbal remembered the voyages of his youth as a trader in the Orient and the islands of the Ocean Sea, and Guacanagarí’s question and suggestion did not strike him as unusual or presumptuous but as practical and intelligent. He responded respectfully and slowly so Bakako could translate. “King Fernando has one wife. The king and queen make alliances by marrying their children.”

  “I have sons and daughters for their children. Or myself.”

  Cristóbal surmised Guacanagarí’s direction and shook his head no. “Their children are already married or the marriages arranged.”

  Surprised to be denied, Guacanagarí pressed further. “King Fernando has only one woman?”

  “Fernando one woman?”

  “Yes. For purposes of an alliance, there is only one woman, his wife, Isabel.”

  Guacanagarí was disappointed and there was silence. The two men and the youth studied one another and grinned sheepishly, respectful that each was trying to understand, aware that communication frequently failed, disappointed that they could not fully know each other, and content to be together. Guacanagarí forgot that Admiral wore clothes and Cristóbal forgot than Guacanagarí was naked.

  Guacanagarí pointed to the silver cross on Cristóbal’s necklace. “Many of your naborias wear that.”

  “This depicts the cross upon which Christ died. When I return, I will bring men to teach you of Christ so that you may achieve salvation.” Bakako understood the thoughts, learned at the Sunday services aboard the Santa María, and translated. He recalled Admiral’s expectation that he become a Christian and simmered that Admiral and his men neither honored nor respected Yúcahu or other spirits. He yearned to warn Guacanagarí that their spiritual knowledge was incomplete, their assurance of Christ’s supremacy arrogant. But it wasn’t his role to explain this to a paramount cacique, nor would the cacique give import to what he said.