He acquired a disgustingly large land grant with a full complement of slaves to work the property. Accompanying that land, he found a captive market for his farm produce and livestock at the nearby docks, where Spanish ships stocked supplies before the long voyage back to Spain.
Juan could literally name his price and the ship captains would pay it with a smile since there were no other options. Associates under his employ made sure of that fact by strong-arming other local farmers. They even managed to elicit protection money from the poor whelps in the process. Yes, life had been very good to Juan these last few years, right up until six months ago. At that point, things started going awry.
First, there was the lost governorship. His ouster of Governor Columbus went exactly as planned, but the outcome did not. Juan provoked the Columbus brothers’ arrest under the assumption that the crown would name him as replacement. Instead, the honor fell to Nicolás de Ovando. He knew next to nothing about the man other than Ovando took the job that he had wanted.
Next came the devastating news that his father and benefactor, King John of Portugal, died unexpectedly at the age of forty. Just when Juan was making measurable gains in his mission to impress his father enough to be named a legitimate heir, the son of a bitch died and left the throne to his first cousin.
The news was as crushing as it was calamitous to his life’s ambition. It meant that everything Juan had worked toward was now worthless; any favor he once carried with the nation of Portugal was gone. That is why learning of the navigator’s escape came as no surprise to Juan. He failed to contain the navigator’s evil, and god was punishing him for his deficiency.
Most men would have wilted or retreated to the bottom of a bottle under the deluge of disastrous news and loss of favor with God, but Juan was not a lesser man. He still had his holdings in the New World. He could create his own kingdom right here, and that notion infused him with a renewed appetite for wealth and power. The first step to his new objective was figuring out what to do about the new governor.
Juan could have lived with the somewhat disappointing situation if Governor Ovando had the good sense to leave Juan alone, but he did not. The governor’s first action upon reaching the New World was to summon Juan to a meeting with him in his capital city, in his governor’s villa. That put Juan officially in a bad mood when one of Ovando’s house orderlies escorted him into the governor’s office.
“Presenting Frontier Governor Juan Ponce de León,” the orderly announced with a bow at the waist to show respect for the office. Juan did not follow suit and instead stepped forward to take a seat at the governor’s desk while being granted no leave to do so. He needed to set the tone early for this meeting and sitting when and where he wanted did just that.
Governor Ovando remained standing for a set of heartbeats, contemplating how to take the not-so-subtle affront to his authority. He seemed to make up his mind rather quickly and cracked a broad smile before sitting. “I like a man who takes what he wants. I understand that kind of man because I am that kind of man.”
“I appreciate the way you went about dethroning Governor Columbus,” Ovando went on to let Juan know that he was aware of his scheming ways. “In my youth I’d have done something similar. I’d have also made sure there wasn’t an even more ambitious man ahead of me in line for the desired position.”
Juan was impressed at how the governor managed to paint him into a tight corner so quickly. He could tell already that this man would be a far more formidable opponent than Columbus and his brothers. At this point, Juan could either deny any involvement in the scheme and look weak, or he could own up to the scheme and mark himself as a threat. Juan despised looking weak.
“That is an oversight I’ll have to keep in mind for the next time,” Juan responded as he relaxed into the backrest of the chair to show how comfortable he was with threatening the governor, even in his own office.
“Oh come now, Juan. My being here doesn’t have to be a setback for you. It could be the greatest opportunity of your lifetime.”
“How so?”
“Your reckless ambitions will be guided by one who is older, smarter, and far more experienced than you,” the governor answered without batting an eye. It was not meant as an insult, but rather a statement of fact.
Juan did not care. He snapped forward in his chair to land an emphatic index finger on the governor’s desk. “You may have the title, but I rule this island. I own the land and the people on it, and I achieved it all without your . . . guidance.”
“Yes, yes, you are the master of this tiny little island,” the governor said with a dismissive wave of his hand before leaning in to meet head-on Juan’s angry stare. “At least you were before I arrived with two thousand five hundred new colonists and soldiers loyal to me. Now you may succeed in winning them all over, but my question to you is why settle for dominion over this one tiny island? There is a whole new world out there to be won. That is where my ambitions point.”
The governor then got up from his chair without another word. He walked over to a sideboard table and picked up two items that Juan could not see because the governor’s back obstructed his view. When he turned around, Juan could see that his right hand carried a small pastry in an individual serving dish measuring four inches across. The other hand remained hidden behind his back as he returned to the desk.
Governor Ovando placed the small pastry on the desk between them and then opened a drawer in the desk to retrieve a knife. “How big of a piece shall I cut for you? A quarter? Half? More than half?”
Juan had no answer because he was on guard to defend himself against a man with a knife. The governor surprised him by slamming the knife down on the desktop and bringing his left hand around from behind his back. Rather than producing another weapon, the governor revealed his hand carried a gigantic pie measuring two feet across. It dwarfed the tiny pastry they were squabbling over a moment earlier as the governor placed it alongside the other.
“I have no intention of fighting with you over a piece of this little one, Juan. I want the bigger pie. That way we all get more, and believe me, there will be many others coming. Rumors of vast lands and riches to the west are drawing every ambitious man in Spain to this new world of ours.”
“Soon you won’t be fighting just me for control of this island, it will be every conquistador who can afford a boat to get here,” the governor went on while taking his seat behind the desk once more. “We will accomplish more by working together than fighting one another. Are you with me on this?”
“How big will my piece be?” Juan asked with his eyes transfixed on the monstrous pie.
“The same as everyone else. The crown gets twenty percent of your profits, and twenty percent gets paid to me for keeping you conquistadors organized and within the boundaries of your allotted portion. The rest is yours; more than half the pie,” Governor Ovando replied with an inviting smile.
“Where do we grow from here then?” Juan asked, and in doing so signaled his compliance with the governor’s scheme.
“The mainland of course.”
The answer pleased Juan to no end. For years he had heard stories from the locals about a prosperous land they named Bimini off to the west. The natives talked it up to an almost mythical standard of wealth and power, the source of which was a fountain of perpetual health and youth for those who drank from it.
Juan was not prone to believing legends, but it bore enough resemblance to what he witnessed from the navigator back in London that this Fountain of Youth warranted investigating when the time was right. At the very least, if the stories about Bimini’s immense wealth were true, then the undertaking would still be worthwhile.
He concluded then and there that he liked the new governor. He could indeed prosper under Ovando, but he still wanted his job. To that end, Juan offered a course of action where every conceivable outcome would benefit him.
“Many lesser men have tried and failed to establish colonies on the mainland. From
what I hear, the natives there are well-organized and tenacious fighters. It will be a difficult undertaking,” Juan cautioned. “Riches do not only reside on the mainland. There is a large island to the north we’ve named Cuba. Resistance there has been sparse thus far. I’d prefer going there first.”
It was a lie of course. Cuba was there and it was very large, but reports on native resistance colored it as quite formidable. Juan wanted no part of that dangerous island conflict, but the new governor did not need to know that.
“I am heading to Cuba to take charge of the situation there,” Ovando declared, which forced Juan to suppress a broad grin of satisfaction. Manipulating this man was not even a challenge.
There was a very real chance the governor’s forces would be overrun on that island, and the governor would be no more. Even if Ovando succeeded, Juan was the one who suggested the course of action and would gain favor with the governor. Either outcome benefited Juan; plus that left the mainland to him.
“I am tasking you with subjugating the mainland,” Ovando ordered. “I want a prospering settlement there within the year. For a man of your ability and confidence, that should not be too difficult.”
“As long as you keep the other ambitious Spanish nobles out of my way,” Juan said before rising to his feet and departing the governor’s office without another word spoken. He got what he wanted out of the brief visit.
Chapter 29: Shock and Awe
“GOVERNOR, IT’S NOT safe for you to be out on the barricades like this,” the captain of the guards insisted. “We’ve heard sounds coming from the jungle all morning.”
Hastelloy had to agree with the assessment. The wooden walls of the fortress would prevent a native attack from getting inside the settlement, but they could still snipe at them from the jungle line resting only three hundred feet away. The natives had proven quite skilled using their bows to injure, and even kill, several wall guards over the last two weeks.
As if on cue, Hastelloy spotted three arrows let loose from the tree line. These were not slow, high-arching lob shots. These projectiles came from long bows powerful enough to hold a straight-line trajectory over that distance.
He had only an instant to react. He yanked Governor Ovando by the arm to bring him below wall level. Hastelloy then looked up in time to see an arrow hit the captain square in the breastplate of his armor.
The projectile laughed at the armor as it imbedded the arrowhead six inches deep into the captain’s chest. It hit with so much force that the impact sent the man flailing off the wall walk where he landed on the ground below with a two-foot wooden shaft protruding from his heart.
The governor temporarily leaned his back against the wooden wall, but lost faith in that protection when another arrow punched its way into a gap to stop mere inches from Ovando’s left arm.
That sent the governor and Hastelloy jumping off the wall walk. Hastelloy managed the six-foot drop with a graceful landing, but Ovando clattered to the ground amid a cloud of dust.
“That is it! I have had it with these rustics taking shots at us,” the governor shouted as he got to his feet and then stood over his fallen captain of the guards. “This is the second colony established in the New World. We should have enough control of this island by now that the governor can walk the walls without risking his life.”
“You,” the governor shouted, pointing at the nearest guard. “You are now captain of the guards. Take every available soldier and track them down. I don’t care how deep into the jungle they go, you chase them until they are dead or you reach the coast. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Governor,” the nervous teenager responded and then ran to the foot soldier barracks shouting orders.
Hastelloy said nothing. Ovando regarded him as a skilled administrator and bean counter, but of no value in military matters. All the same, Hastelloy had a strong suspicion that these natives were not the brainless rustics the governor thought them to be. There was a definite method to their constant harassment. They were baiting the governor into issuing orders out of anger rather than strategic reason. He might have ventured a protest at the foolish order, but the governor’s folly would be Hastelloy’s opportunity.
When he arrived in the New World, Hastelloy realized in short order that his initial plan to sail for the mainland and reach the replicator on his own was no longer viable. Ten years ago, he hid the replicator in a sparsely populated section of the jungle that no one in their right mind wanted. It was ideal at the time, but not now.
Reports from traders and slavers operating along the mainland gave accounts of a large, ruthless, and powerful native empire dominating that region. If Hastelloy wanted to reach the replicator, he would have to do so in command of a large military force. He had no authority to command troops as of yet, but he had a feeling that would change sooner rather than later.
Within the hour, four hundred soldiers poured out of the protective walls of Santo Domingo to run down the restless natives. They were led by the new captain and a dozen lieutenants mounted on horseback. The natives announced their continued presence in the jungle by launching a volley of arrows that sent two soldiers back to the fortress with minor injuries.
The governor watched with pride as his army stepped beyond the tree line in their pursuit. The vegetation was so thick that even the mounted officers vanished from view within the first few steps into the jungle. Ovando was well pleased with his show of force, but Hastelloy only saw vulnerability as he looked toward the main courtyard where a token garrison of twenty soldiers remained to protect the fort and settlement. In that moment, Hastelloy knew for certain that the natives were far more skilled in the art of war than they seemed to the governor.
“Governor, do you mind if I speak with the remaining soldiers for a moment?” Hastelloy asked.
“I don’t give a damn what you do, just as long as you send me word the moment my soldiers return declaring victory,” the governor answered with primal instincts still dominating his mind-set.
“Excellent,” Hastelloy responded on his way over to the cluster of twenty frightened boys who called themselves soldiers. “Gentlemen, we have far more muskets and powder than our meager numbers could ever hope to use. I have a task for you while we await their return . . .”
Six hours later, while the governor congratulated himself on his military genius in his office, the first signs of trouble appeared along the northern jungle line. Drumbeats began holding a rhythm of four quick strikes followed by two long ones. The intimidating sound was soon joined along the western wall. Next, the eastern tree line was treated to the menacing sound before drumbeats from the south confirmed everybody’s worst fear; they were surrounded.
“You had better alert the governor,” Hastelloy said to the lone officer left to defend the settlement. “And send word to the settlers that it’s time.”
A few minutes later, Hastelloy was shouting out orders to the soldiers and every able-bodied male settler left. “We have loaded muskets stacked along each wall walk, far more weapons than we have soldiers or even men. Everyone will fire in the first volley. After that, the men will load for the soldiers. Am I understood?”
“Yes!”
“Our muskets are not at all accurate past a hundred feet. That means we will not fire until they are close, very close. Do not lose your nerve and fire too soon, or all will be lost. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” the soldiers answered even though Hastelloy was not technically their commanding officer. They looked to him as such since no one else had a clue of what to do.
“Then take your positions and await my order,” Hastelloy shouted.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” a commanding voice shouted from behind him. Hastelloy turned around to find Governor Ovando stomping toward him like a raging bull. “You are an accountant. This is my command. You have no authority here.”
“Wrong,” Hastelloy shouted as he stepped right up into Ovando’s face. “Your command marched out those gates
six hours ago. Our collective desire to survive this attack gives me all the authority I need, now stay out of the way while I save your ass.”
“How dare you!” the governor began to protest when a volley of arrows flew over the northern wall to end all debate, with Ovando cowering in fear.
“This is no time to panic, Governor. That is half of what those drums are for, to induce panic in their enemy. Now watch and learn what real military acumen can do,” Hastelloy said before bounding up a set of stairs to take a vantage point along the northern wall. Governor Ovando appeared to accept Hastelloy’s reasoning as he followed him up the steps without another word.
Three more volleys of arrows showered the fortress from all directions while the governor looked around to evaluate the defenses. Seven soldiers along with twenty male settlers manned each of the western, southern, and eastern walls. He was visibly aghast at seeing that the north wall, which contained the entrance gate, had no one on it. The only measure of defense was the fortification’s lone cannon positioned on the ground aimed at the closed gate.
Hastelloy followed his eye line and understood his concern. “We don’t have enough men to hold all four sides. They would scale every wall using ladders if we didn’t focus our defense.”
“You . . . you’re going to give them the main gate?” Ovando exclaimed as if Hastelloy had lost his mind. “They don’t even need ladders to get through the gate if we don’t protect it. They may be rustics, but they will figure out pretty quick that no fire is coming from the north gate.”
“I am under no illusion that they are mindless—quite the contrary. I watched them lure the bulk of your army away to chase down a few dozen men while the majority of their forces assault the main target, this settlement. I’d say they know exactly what they’re doing, far more than you at the very least,” Hastelloy answered.
He would have expounded further, but a change in rhythm from the drums demanded his attention. The tempo doubled so that the staccato beats were one right after the other, as if a stampede of horses were charging the fortifications. Rather than horses though, a wall of natives a hundred strong on each side burst out of the tree line at a full sprint.
Origins: Discovery Page 19