Encounters Unforeseen- 1492 Retold

by Andrew Rowen

  Cristóbal watched from the Niña, proud but entirely alone. He ended his journal reminding his sovereigns that the Lord miraculously concluded the voyage even though many of their household had said it was folly. He hoped it would be the greatest honor of Christendom that first appeared so unimportant.

  Portion of Juan de la Cosa’s World Map, 1500, with the route of Columbus’s voyage superimposed.

  PALOS, MOGUER, AND HUELVA,

  March 15–End of March 1493

  Bakako and Yutowa were captivated by the little village, the pretty marshes, and the hillsides about them and realized that the settlement was vastly smaller than the previous one and, for that matter, smaller the Guacanagarí’s Guarico. They warmed to the small skiffs lining the riverbank, laden with fishing nets and poles, as well as a few returning from the sea with catch. The village was like their own on Guanahaní, populated by fishermen and their families and woven into the rhythm of the sea.

  They studied the natives celebrating ashore, including the womenfolk and children who embraced the sailors, all laughing, crying, and hugging loved ones, sharing food and drink, beating strange drums, bellowing into instruments to pipe and honk. Bakako recalled the expressions of his relatives when he and Father returned to Guanahaní after having been blown away, and he realized this celebration was a larger version of the same. He studied the strange dress of the pale women. Their naguas wrapped around the entire body, hiding their buttocks, and their shirts covered their breasts but pulled the breasts upright to bulge forward, some with an opening at the neck to permit peeking in. Bakako pointed it out to Yutowa, and they laughed uproariously.

  Skiffs and rowboats surrounded the Niña and Pinta and villagers boarded, bearing bread, meats, and wine. They marveled at the captives and parrots. A launch approached bearing Fray Pérez, and Cristóbal welcomed him aboard with a deep, tearful embrace. Bakako studied this native’s dress—a dark robe covering the entire body with a chain hung from the neck bearing a large silver cross— and perceived the native a behique.

  Cristóbal now participated in the celebration and, for this moment, felt an acceptance and respect that he had supposed would be reserved only for Martín. Juan and Pero Alonso Niño openly recognized Cristóbal as the leader of the voyage and responsible for its success. But many of the Pinta’s crew whispered that the Genoese had sought to sell his discoveries to King João.

  Suddenly, the celebrations ashore and aboard the ships ceased, and Bakako and Yutowa scanned the embankment to ascertain why. Two natives, with robes similar to Admiral’s friend, stood at the embankment preparing to board a rowboat to be ferried to the Niña. Juan Niño shook his head and Bakako heard him warn Admiral, “Inquisitors. We’ll have to answer their questions.”

  Cristóbal recognized the inquisitors’ boatman as the muleteer who had escorted Diego to Beatriz seven months earlier. The man cheerfully called to Cristóbal that Diego was with Cristóbal’s mistress. He then resumed a somber demeanor, nervous in afterthought whether his cheer revealed an absence of piety.

  As the rowboat came abreast, Bakako studied Admiral and his crew and sensed caution and reticence. The two robed natives climbed onto the Niña’s deck, silver crosses dangling at their chests, and Bakako surmised by the crews’ gravity that these two perhaps held greater authority than even Admiral. They were supreme behiques. They glared at the Taínos’ nakedness and greeted Admiral and Juan formally, without expressing the slightest pleasure over their return. Bakako listened closely.

  “We come on behalf of the Holy Office,” the elder behique began, “to ascertain whether there are any persons present who have converted to the faith from Judaism and, if so, whether they wish to confess to any heresy. Who is the leader of this ship and the neighboring ship Pinta?”

  “I’m an Admiral of Castile and captain-general of both ships.” Cristóbal pointed to Juan. “Juan Niño is the master of this ship and may help with your questions. But I know of no person present who has converted from Judaism.”

  “Nor I,” Juan added.

  “Are any present whose parents or grandparents or more distant relatives converted from Judaism?”

  Admiral remained silent.

  “I know of none.” Juan scanned those present and called, “If anyone present has relatives who converted from Judaism, you should step forward.” None did.

  The younger behique addressed Admiral directly. “We have information that one Luis de Torres—a known converso—is among you. If you are lying, it will be most serious—for you.”

  “We have sailed to the Indies for King Fernando and Queen Isabel to bring Christianity to the heathens there, and we left a garrison for the initial settlement. Such person is among the initial settlers.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  There was a long silence. The older behique pointed to Xamabo. “Who are these blasphemous people, and what is their faith?”

  Admiral walked to hold Xamabo’s hand. “This is a brother of the Indian Lord Guacanagarí, who is a lord of the territories newly possessed by the king and queen. This prince, and the rest, are heathens, but inclined to the faith.”

  “How do you know they’re not Jews or conversos?”

  “I have seen they have no sect. I will show you.” Admiral asked Bakako to retrieve a face mask from storage. “This is the type of item within their worship. There are no Stars of David or Torahs.”

  Bakako observed the supreme behiques confer between themselves and Admiral nod to Juan.

  “They have fine gold jewelry,” Admiral said. He motioned for Xamabo to step forward and pointed to his gold nosepiece. The behiques studied it for a moment. Admiral asked Xamabo for it, and continued. “Their gold is soft and easily cut.” With a knife, Admiral split off a significant portion of the nosepiece and handed it to the older behique, as well as a sliver for the muleteer. “You have no concerns on either ship, and this is for your efforts.”

  The elder behique studied the gold piece. “If anyone here knows of information to the contrary of what we’ve just been told, it’s your Christian duty to step forward and speak.” None spoke.

  The behiques departed. When they were distant, Bakako watched the sailors scowl and curse Isabel and Fernando and then resume their celebration.

  Cristóbal left the Crown’s comptroller Rodrigo Sánchez to secure the gold pieces remaining on the Niña, as well as the parrots and other trophies, and disembarked with his three attendants, Pérez, and the captives to walk to La Rábida. The captives, led by Xamabo, followed in the rear, waving to natives, who came to greet, examine, and touch.

  Martín also disembarked, but with the Pinta’s gold, gently lowered prostrate in a blanket by Arias and a few sailors into a launch to be whisked upstream to his villa in the farmlands on Moguer’s outskirts.

  With Pérez’s assistance, Cristóbal dispatched a note to the sovereigns announcing his arrival in Castile and requesting an audience in Barcelona, as well as a letter to Beatriz and his sons in Córdoba, advising that he would see them shortly. Copies of his public letter heralding the voyage were sent to a number of persons, including Luis de Santángel, the mayor of Córdoba, and his old patron the Duke Luis de la Cerda.

  Rábida’s friars warmly welcomed Cristóbal’s entourage into the monastery, shared their food and water, and provided accommodation. At dusk, Cristóbal left to ride by skiff upstream to Moguer to fulfill the overnight vigil and Mass in the Church of Santa Clara pledged off the Azores. Juan and Pero Alonso Niño and other Niña crewmen introduced the Admiral to the church clergy and purchased candles. All knelt humbly before the main altar, praised the Lord for saving them upon the Ocean Sea, and offered that Cristóbal would prove the uncompromised devotion that merited sparing their ship and lives. Cristóbal then prayed alone as the sun set, and as the moon rose, crested, and fell, through the owls’ hooting and the roosters’ crowing, until the sun rose the next day, continuously expressing this Faith. Juan and Pero Alonso returned to the church before dawn,
together with other crewmen, and together they celebrated Mass and the Lord’s mercy for their lives. All of those present save Cristóbal also prayed for Martín, who lay dying close by. It was Saturday, and Cristóbal and the Niña’s crew began the fast on bread and water vowed in the storm off Lisbon.

  Cristóbal returned to La Rábida and, later that morning, Marchena arrived. Cristóbal triumphantly related his voyage, revealing his aspirations for a grand second voyage and, with bitterness, the failures and disappointments he had encountered, particularly Pinzón’s desertion. He invited Marchena to accompany him on this second voyage to bring the Indians to the faith. He admonished that he would seek Martín’s prosecution and incarceration. To the latter, Marchena counseled restraint and forgiveness, reminding that Martín had recruited most of the crew and that the Father forgave those who forgave the trespasses of others.

  La Rábida’s friars offered a lunch for Cristóbal’s entourage. Bakako overheard Cristóbal explain his abstention—save bread and water—to Marchena, and Bakako asked Admiral, “Should my people abstain, as well?”

  “Did you so promise Christ the Lord?”

  Bakako hesitated, remembering many prayers, including to Yúcahu, Attabeira, and Guabancex.

  Cristóbal perceived his confusion and simplified. “You may abstain or eat as you wish, for Fray Marchena and his brothers want to share their food with you. Soon you will be baptized, cleansed of your sins, and born again as a child of God into his family.” Cristóbal nodded toward Fray Marchena. “Perhaps next Sunday you and Yutowa may watch Mass administered by Fray Marchena and learn of the communion with Christ shared by his family—those who are baptized.” Marchena embraced the suggestion and served the Indians the full meal.

  In Barcelona, Isabel and Fernando received with utter astonishment Cristóbal’s public and private letters and the note of his return. They immediately concluded the Genoese had delivered what he promised and that the voyage they considered a lark potentially had resulted in a triumph of substantial new colonies. They feared João’s ambition for the lands discovered and promptly summoned advisers to consider what had to be done to protect Castile’s entitlement. They decided—on the basis of Cristóbal’s letters alone—that a large fleet should be assembled promptly to transport a considerable number of colonists to commence subjugation and thwart João.

  The Duke Luis de la Cerda was angry. He immediately wrote Cardinal Mendoza, recounting that he had been preparing to underwrite Colón’s quest of the Indies himself, but the queen preempted him entirely, even though her accountant had promised Luis a piece of the voyage. Luis indicated that Colón had found everything he was looking for and asked Mendoza to convince the queen to allow Luis to send some of his own caravels to the Indies each year.

  Cristóbal lived at La Rábida while awaiting the sovereigns’ reply. He traveled to Puerto de Santa María with Juan de la Cosa to secure the original diagrams and paperwork documenting the specifications of the Santa María so Juan might submit a claim to the sovereigns for indemnification of its loss. He made the pilgrimage to the church on the hilltop overlooking Huelva, Nuestra Señora de la Cinta. He sought, without success, to find Martín and the Pinta’s gold and institute Martín’s prosecution, and Marchena provided no assistance.

  The next Sunday, Bakako and Yutowa were invited to don robes and sit to the side in La Rábida’s chapel with Admiral’s page Pedro so they might observe Holy Communion without participating. They watched as a broken loaf of bread was passed among the natives, including to Pedro, and listened as a behique spoke in another strange tongue.

  “We now eat the flesh of Christ,” Pedro whispered.

  Bakako was startled. He recognized the bread as the natives’ cazabi and gazed to the altar, where a large cemí depicted the Christ spirit dying on a cross. He looked to Yutowa and whispered in Taíno, “They believe they’re eating the Christ spirit?”

  Yutowa shrugged. The behique continued to address the spirits, and a gourd of wine was passed among the worshippers.

  When he received the gourd, Pedro whispered, “We now drink the blood of Christ.”

  Bakako observed Pedro’s participation carefully and confirmed for himself that Pedro ate bread and wine, not flesh or blood. Bakako glanced at Yutowa again, and the memory of Father’s warning that the pale beings might be Caribes flashed before him. He scrutinized the ceremony intently, seeking to understand if the natives really believed they were eating and drinking the blood of their Christ spirit or were just consciously pretending to do so. The ritual unnerved him, particularly since the thought of even pretending to eat flesh or blood disgusted him.

  That night, as they lay in their cell in La Rábida, Yutowa turned to Bakako and asked, “Do you think the natives actually eat flesh and drink blood?”

  “No. Like Taínos, they abhor it, including Admiral.”

  “But why do they do it in their ceremony?”

  Bakako had pondered the exotic ritual all day. “I think their beliefs are similar to ours. We believe the fish we eat have come from Yayael’s bones after his death. They believe they are fed by their Christ’s body after his death.” A memory of fishing with Father flickered through his thoughts. “Both understand the living feed upon the remains of the dead.”

  “That’s what they’re thinking about?”

  “Who knows? Perhaps it just comforts them to eat their spirit.”

  By March 29, Cristóbal departed by mule for Seville to await the sovereign’s approval of his audience in Barcelona. His party included Juan Niño as the Castilian owner and master of the surviving flagship, his three attendants, and the ten Indians led by Guacanagarí’s relative Xamabo. He didn’t invite Vicente. Prior to departure, Cristóbal instructed Bakako that he and the other Indians should adorn themselves with gold jewelry and body paint appropriate for a great ceremony. The exotic trophies and green parrots, some batey balls, and the store of gold pieces were loaded on the mules. Cristóbal kept the journal and sea charts close at his side. The travelers departed northeast through Moguer and, as in Lisbon, crowds surrounded them in the villages they passed to behold and touch the Indians, now more strikingly attired in fresh paint and plentiful jewelry.

  After Colón departed, Vicente and other family members brought Martín to La Rábida for his last days, protected by Marchena from Colón’s prosecution.

  At the end of March, Fernando and Isabel dispatched a brief letter to Cristóbal, addressing him as the Admiral of the Ocean Sea and commending him for having served the Lord and their kingdoms’ benefit. They confirmed he would receive their favors and ordered that he write immediately what needed to be done so that he could return to the new possessions before summer’s end. They also dispatched instructions to their ambassador in Rome to obtain the Pope’s approval that the lands Colón discovered were theirs.

  As the sovereigns’ messenger sped overland to Seville to find Colón, Fray Marchena administered Martín’s last rites. With Vicente and other family present, he died and was buried at La Rábida’s altar. He had first met Colón less than a year before.

  TO BARCELONA,

  April 1493

  Bakako, Yutowa, and two other captives immensely enjoyed the honor of sharing a mule. After departing the fishing villages, they rode through a verdant plain filled with crops and were dazzled by the many uses to which the beast was put, observing mules harnessed to wooden “plows” to cultivate fields, to millstones to grind “flour,” and to rope and “pulleys” to lift beams. Their mount’s four legs coordinated in a strange, undulating gate of forward yanks and pauses that, by the second day, gave them, and everyone else in Admiral’s party, sore backs and buttocks.

  On March 31, Bakako and Yutowa observed the native population grow denser as they approached what Admiral’s page Pedro called the “city of Seville.” Larger crowds gathered to inspect their nakedness, and, as always, many came to poke rather than caress. The riders halted at a great fortress beside a great river,2 and the two youths
gazed across the water to Seville’s tremendous skyline, a wall with towers curling along the river’s flood plain enveloping houses packed together—all dominated by a number of churches. Large ships were anchored in the river to the south. Bakako recognized the fortress as an enormous rendition of that designed by Admiral in Guarico, and Juan Niño recognized with contempt that it was a headquarters of the sovereigns’ Inquisition. To the youths’ amazement, the travelers crossed the river on an immense wood structure Pedro called a “bridge,”3 which bustled with innumerable peoples of different colors and both beasts and slaves hauling goods. They arrived and dismounted at a city gate, where a tremendous throng of gaping natives mobbed them.

  Seville in the sixteenth century.

  Admiral introduced Xamabo to a number of finely dressed caciques or nitaínos, whom Pedro explained included the “mayor” of Seville, and Admiral asked the “Indians” to exhibit some of their “Indian” items to the natives. Xamabo displayed a face mask. Abasu held a spear. Yutowa posed talking to the parrots. Bakako demonstrated a batey ball, and the onlookers were astounded at its bounce. One of the natives watching—a nineteen-year-old Bartolomé de Las Casas—found the show particularly intriguing. Pedro explained to Bakako and Yutowa that it was “Palm Sunday” and that the “Sevillians” had begun the celebration of “Holy Week.” Gaily or penitently dressed pilgrims were surging into the city to parade through the streets to its churches bearing colorful banners and icons of the Virgin and saints.