Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  “Christ is friendly?” Guacanagarí asked.

  When translated, the question surprised Cristóbal. “He is supreme, the one true God. He judges each person on death. He has a destiny to be revealed for all the world’s peoples.” Cristóbal reflected that the Lord tested faith severely at times and that neither friendly nor unfriendly were appropriate.

  Not understanding, Bakako shrugged. He turned to Guacanagarí. “Admiral believes his Christ spirit is the supreme spirit.”

  Guacanagarí wasn’t surprised. Many of Guacanagarí’s subjects focused their worship similarly, comforted by that simplicity. He wondered how powerful this Christ was. He didn’t feel threatened by Admiral’s intent to teach him of this spirit or perceive any consequence of nonbelief. Guacanagarí had no intent of ceasing to honor Yúcahu or any other spirit in favor of this Christ.

  Guacanagarí asked his naborias for pineapple juice and cazabi. Cristóbal savored the juice and Gucanagari asked the naborias to fetch a pineapple and cut it open for Admiral’s inspection. Cristóbal marveled at the fruit’s size. After relaxing a few moments, the men returned to discuss to the garrison and practical issues that, with gestures and Bakako’s assistance, they could communicate.

  “When I depart, my men will trade for gold with you. They will use the ship’s launch to explore for gold.” Cristóbal paused for Bakako to explain, watching Guacanagarí deceived as to the exploration’s other purpose of finding a site for the permanent colony from which Española’s subjugation would be directed.

  “I can bring the gold here to your men.”

  “My men have Castilian food, but they will need you to provide additional food.”

  “Taínos share food freely, and your men will not hunger.”

  “I will appoint leaders, and they will befriend you before I leave.” Cristóbal maintained an innocent composure regardless of a gnawing apprehension. “I will order my men to behave properly. Their leaders will enforce proper behavior. My men should not steal your women or possessions.” Bakako understood and relayed simply that Admiral meant his men would be good.

  “I am pleased for that. Who is the leader?”

  “His name is Diego de Arana.”

  “Is he your brother?”

  Cristóbal again recalled answering practical questions from diverse peoples when a trader. “He’s a brother of my woman.”

  Guacangarí appreciated this. “Will you leave the men your weapons?”

  “Yes. As agreed, my men will defend your people against the Caribes. We will enslave the Caribes.” Cristóbal waited for Bakako to translate and watched Guacanagarí’s reaction to the explanation for the weapons. But Guacanagarí revealed none.

  Cristóbal looked into Guacanagarí’s eyes and then asked for his favor. “I want you to protect my men against enemies.”

  “We have no enemies other than Caribes,” Guacanagarí replied after Bakako’s translation, gazing directly back into Admiral’s eyes. He fully understood Admiral’s intent to be that if there were friction between his subjects and Admiral’s, he would protect Admiral’s. He placed the burden on Admiral to ask for this.

  Cristóbal acknowledged Guacanagarí’s understanding—as far as it went. “If fights arise between our peoples, I want my men protected.”

  “Admiral wants you to protect his men from bad Bohíans,” Bakako interpreted.

  “I will protect your men from harm. That’s my responsibility in our alliance.”

  “Yes,” Bakako responded.

  Cristóbal was pleased and immensely relieved Guacanagarí did not perceive the intended subjugation of his peoples. He liked Guacanagarí and, with the garrison’s protection arranged, sought answers to his key unanswered questions.

  “Do you trade with the Grand Khan?”

  Bakako translated the question almost verbatim, knowing that Guacanagarí would have no knowledge of this person.

  “No.” Guacanagarí shook his head. “I don’t know of him.”

  “How far are we from Cibao?”

  “Not far. It’s to the southeast.” Guacanagarí felt uncomfortable, sensing that Admiral wanted to meet the ruler of the Cibao, either Caonabó or Guarionex. “We have access to the Cibao’s gold.” Guacanagarí changed the subject. “How far from Haiti is Castile?”

  “Days canoa, Bohío Castile?” Bakako asked.

  “Very, very far.” Cristóbal knew that a statement of leagues or miles would not be understood and spread his arms wide to emphasize the great distance. “I believe it will take up two months to return there.” He reflected that he was speculating wildly, as the route east had yet to be traversed and its winds, weather, and currents were unknown. Bakako was shocked and translated that it was two moons by canoe.

  Guacanagarí was shocked, as well. “The sea exists so very far to the east?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your vessel can travel two moons at sea?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there islands along the way?”

  Cristóbal remembered Talavera’s commissions. “Yes.” Cristóbal had already considered the route, which passed the Azores.

  “When will you return?”

  Cristóbal reflected that the time necessary for the sovereigns’ approval of a second expedition and its provisioning were as unknown as the duration of the homeward voyage. “I don’t know. I hope to return within twelve months.” Bakako was startled again, as was Guacanagarí when he heard the translation.

  “I hadn’t thought so long, but that is acceptable. We will provide your men the food they need until you return and much gold by then.”

  As the afternoon waned, Guacanagarí and Cristóbal finished their conversation and agreed to meet soon to complete preparations. Guacanagarí offered to host Cristóbal in his caney for the night and the company of his most beautiful daughter.

  Cristóbal declined both. He would not sleep ashore lest he be abandoned. He felt his crew had deteriorated into excessive relations with the Haitian women and wanted to set an example of abstinence. While he remained virile, this abstinence wasn’t sacrifice. Cristóbal’s remaining interest in women had narrowed solely to whether a woman, by marriage or otherwise, would further the pursuit of his enterprise of exploring and colonizing the Indies.

  “Do you have wives and children?” Guacanagarí asked.

  Cristóbal was surprised but gratified to receive a personal question. “My wife died. I have two sons.” Bakako had heard the word died in relation to Christ and knew its meaning.

  As Bakako translated, Guacanagarí reached to hold Admiral’s hands, and Cristóbal received him. Guacanagarí said he was sorry, and no translation was needed. Both Guacanagarí and Bakako were stunned, realizing they now had information—if they understood Admiral properly—that the pale beings did die as men.

  “How old are your sons?”

  Cristóbal counted with his fingers. “One is twelve—like Bakako— the other four.”

  Guacanagarí looked at Bakako and then turned to Admiral. “When you leave for Castile, I trust Bakako will remain so that I can talk to your men.” Guacanagarí interpreted himself with gestures.

  Bakako looked to the ground, breathless to hear the answer.

  “No, Bakako will come with me to Castile,” Cristóbal replied, scrutinizing Bakako’s reaction to the betrayal. “Bakako will meet King Fernando and Queen Isabel.”

  Bakako was devastated to hear what he already knew. He fought to conceal any emotion whatsoever, avoiding both Admiral’s and Guacanagarí’s gazes, refusing to express any appreciation to Admiral for this fate, hiding from Guacanagarí the bitterness within, and adamantly avoiding any acknowledgment that he had submitted forever to Admiral’s lies and control—albeit resigned he had no choice but travel to Castile.

  Cristóbal was prepared to reciprocate sternly any hostile glare to remind the boy of the consequence of resistance, but he caressed Bakako’s shoulder instead. “It’ll be the greatest honor of your life.”

  W
hen parting, Guacanagarí offered that his naborias would help Admiral’s men construct their fort. Cristóbal expressed gratitude. While it would be but a dwarf to the fort at Mina, he departed for his launch immensely relieved that he had successfully arranged—without hostilities—the first fort by which Española would be subjugated.

  But Cristóbal was not content. The discoveries made since landfall on Guanahaní had whetted rather than quelled the bitter memories of his lifetime journey to achieve them. Every day brought new evidence that a vast, unknown, and ever expanding enterprise remained to be pursued. He pined for the gratitude of his queen and king that he had delivered on his promises to them. He craved public vindication that his geographic theory was correct, driven by an abiding contempt for the noblemen who had scorned his common status, and he yearned to expand the discoveries to which he became a wealthy, esteemed nobleman of the Christian world. He lusted for the accumulation of gold, not because his tastes demanded luxury or opulence but as the emoluments of the foregoing achievements. Encompassing all, Cristóbal saw incontrovertible confirmation that the Lord had chosen him for the singular destiny of bringing Christianity to the heathen populations of the Indies and islands of the Ocean Sea.

  Guacanagarí was pleased with the meeting and reviewed it with his council. The alliance would augment his and Marien’s prestige given the pale beings’ superior vessels, weaponry, and knowledge of the heavens, as well as the novel possessions they were willing to trade. He would provide full support to the fort’s construction so Admiral perceived the worthiness of a strong relationship. He would allow the garrison to remain after Admiral’s return if the relationship proved fruitful.

  As he strode to Navidad’s beach, Cristóbal felt the gaze, wonderment, and friendliness of hundreds of Guacanagarí’s subjects, many who approached simply to behold him. He was moved by their gentleness and generosity and waved to them. But he saw their nakedness as inferior and observed for the countless time that they were timid and cowardly and could be subjugated easily. He wondered how Alonso de Lugo was faring in his military action to subjugate Palmas and relished that military action would be unnecessary to subjugate Española, a far greater prize.

  Cristóbal’s mind wandered from the carefree naked bodies of the Indians he passed to memories of the slave girls shackled in the shop in Genoa and the stinking slave markets of Scio, Lagos, and Seville. At this moment, he envisioned Guacanagarí and his people would have a different fate, as they were uncorrupted by Mohammedanism, Judaism, and other sects and appeared ready to embrace Christianity. Instead, they would retain the integrity of their homes and families and be taught to wear clothing and Castilian custom and set to work in Española as the sovereigns’ subjects, building Castilian settlers’ homes, farms, forts, and churches. He believed this role suited them given the backwardness and inferiority he perceived in them and the benefit bestowed by their conversion. Cristóbal now saw the Indians as human, fit to work as a subjugated people for their natural rulers and conquerors in return for receiving Christian custom and salvation.

  As he boarded the launch, Cristóbal reflected on his promise to protect Guacanagarí’s peoples from Caribe attack. He continued to view the stories that Caribes ate human flesh as but salacious tales. But he reflected that Caribes, as wartime enemies of the sovereigns’ subjects, could and should be enslaved and sold as chattel to slave traders regardless of the validity of these stories—as well as any Indians who opposed subjugation.

  FINAL PREPARATIONS AND DEPARTURE,

  December 29, 1492–January 4, 1493

  Guacanagarí’s naborias followed sailors’ commands to haul planks, dig the ditch, and do whatever necessary to help construct Admiral’s fort. Guacanagarí’s brother reprimanded a youth who told Admiral where gold could be found to the east, fearing Admiral simply would go there to obtain the gold himself.

  On December 30, Guacanagarí hosted a feast for Admiral at the fine bohío to review the fort’s progress and honor their relationship before Admiral’s departure. Five subordinate caciques attended, each regaled as Guacanagarí in their finest jewelry and feathered headdresses, and Guacanagarí escorted Admiral by the arm from the beach to their ceremonial reception at the bohío. After dining, Guacanagarí removed his own headdress and placed it on Admiral. Cristóbal removed his necklace to place it on Guacanagarí and gave him a fine woolen cape, boots, and a silver ring.

  The next day, Cristóbal ordered the crew to commence the Niña’s final provisioning with water and wood, and Guacanagarí directed that his naborias supply the Niña fresh cazabi. The crew loaded samples of Española’s fruits and crops and some marvelous and exotic trophies for the sovereigns, including green parrots, feather headdresses, javelins, and batey balls. Xamabo brought face masks, gold jewelry, and other gifts on behalf of Guacanagarí for Fernando and Isabel. Cristóbal ordered storage of gold pieces, ceremonial vestments, and powders and juices to make body paint for the captives to wear in Castile. Bakako, Yutowa, and Abasu pondered with trepidation what their function would become when they arrived there.

  The canoe and sailor dispatched to find the Pinta returned without success, and Cristóbal feared Martín had departed.

  By New Year’s Day, Cristóbal selected almost forty individuals— roughly equivalent in number to the Santa María’s crew—to be left in Navidad, mostly volunteers. Luis de Torres would remain in the event a translator with the Grand Khan was needed. The caulker Lope, the cooper Domingo, the ship carpenter Alonso, and the physicians Masters Alonso and Juan would stay to service the garrison. So would a lombard gunner. The sailmaker Juan would remain to be the tailor, the Genoese seaman Jácome el Rico to watch for the interests of the voyage’s financiers.

  Cristóbal chose Diego de Arana to be the garrison’s captain, to be succeeded in the event of death by Pedro Gutiérrez and, if he also perished, Rodrigo de Escobedo. Cristóbal recognized the selection of Diego as leader would be ill received, as Diego was nigh his relative and lacked any credential for the captainship. But Cristóbal didn’t trust Gutiérrez or Escobedo to respect his interest in the gold and other wealth that the garrison might find.

  Grimly, Cristóbal acknowledged that he trusted none of them, leaders or crew, to properly pave the way for achieving his and the sovereigns’ common interest—Española’s peaceful subjugation, without need for troops. The greed, lust, contempt, and brutality in their hearts would simmer and grow following his departure, and the leaders selected lacked the authority, presence, wit, and severity to reign those impulses for long. Transgressions against the Indians could quickly result not only in reprisals against the crew but Guacanagagi’s rejection of Cristóbal’s friendship and settlement. Cristóbal realized his return was urgent.

  Cristóbal summoned those remaining to receive his prayers, advice, and orders, designed to impart his sternest warning. He ordered that they obey Diego. He commanded that they respect and revere the lord Guacanagarí and his nitaínos and not displease them—for Guacanagarí had saved them and was their host in his own land and kingdom—and that they avoid as death angering Guacanagarí. He cautioned that he expected them to deal sweetly and honestly, earning Guacanagarí’s respect, so that on his return Guacanagarí would remain favorable to their relationship. He exhorted that they not commit insults or violence to the Indians or their property, admonishing scandals against the women that would defame Christianity. Envisioning reprisals, Cristóbal directed that they not separate into small parties vulnerable to attack, travel inland unless all together, or leave Guacanagarí’s kingdom other than with his representatives and protection. He promised to seek special compensation for those remaining from the sovereigns.

  On January 2, Cristóbal came ashore to say farewell to Guacanagarí and instill his friendship and fear. After reminding that the garrison would defend against Caribe attack, Cristóbal directed crewmen to conduct a mock battle between themselves using swords, crossbow, and artillery. They fired a lombard at some plank siding of the
Santa María heaped at the beach, and the ball blasted it apart and careened far to sea, awing the onlookers. Guacanagarí’s naborias assisted the crew in transporting the items stored in the two bohíos to the fort, but, as it was too small hold much more than the weapons and wine, much was deposited in a small bohío and field close by. Cristóbal and Guacanagarí dined together at the fine bohío for the last time.

  As the day waned, Cristóbal embraced Diego, Pedro, and Rodrigo, and shipmates departing embraced shipmates remaining. As the final gesture, Cristóbal and Guacanagarí parted affectionately.

  Cristóbal stepped into the Santa María’s launch to be escorted to the Niña by Escobedo. Rodrigo assured him that plenty of gold would be gathered while he was absent but expressed concern that Arana and the others would hoard it as their own, not the king’s. Cristóbal had always understood the crews’ motivation for enlisting on the voyage, and he advised Rodrigo that his role in Navidad was to ensure the king was served, for which he would be well compensated.

  Rough weather delayed departure until dawn on January 4. The Niña now bore Cristóbal and Pero Alonso as captain and pilot of the “fleet” of one ship, and Vicente, Juan Niño, and Sancho Ruiz de Gama remained captain, master, and pilot of the caravel itself. Cristóbal assumed Vicente’s berth in the squat hold beneath the stern deck. Niña sailed east along Española’s coast toward a high peak (Cabo del Morro, Dominican Republic), and Cristóbal spied for a harbor where, on his return, mules, cattle, and other livestock— which the islands discovered appeared to lack—could disembark safely. He named the peak Monte Christi in honor of the Savior and concluded Cipangu lay within Española and, given its proximity to Española, that Cuba was an island, not the Indies’ mainland.