“It means husbandry,” he said, despondently.
“It means hard work,” agreed Alamo, a smile flickering over his lips.
Each knew what the other was thinking about. Knights-errant and adventurers like García, or like Avila, would never reconcile themselves to laboring in the cultivation of sugar, or even in the breeding of cattle. They had come to seek gold and spices, and for those they were willing to risk their lives or undergo hardship. It would be far below the dignity of a hidalgo to settle down to prosaic labor. Nor would the lower class Spaniards who had reached Hayti — the gaolbirds, the bankrupts — take kindly to arduous work.
“There is no labor to be got out of the Indians,” said Rich, despairingly.
“That is so,” agreed Alamo. “They die rather than work. And pestilences sweep them away even when they are not killed for sport. There were two millions when the Admiral first landed. Now there is not more than half that number, after six years. Perhaps soon there will not be a single Indian left alive in Española.”
“Impossible!” said Rich.
“Possible enough,” said Alamo, gravely.
“But what then?” asked Rich, wildly. The thought of the blotting-out of a population of two million left him a little dizzy. Their Highnesses of Spain had no more than ten million subjects in all their dominions. And he was appalled at the thought both of this green land of Española reduced to an unpeopled desert and of the extinction of a pleasant useless race of mankind. This discovery of the Indies was a Dead Sea fruit — alluring to the sight and yet turning to ashes in the mouth.
“There is another possibility,” said Alamo.
“What?”
“It was João de Setubal who put it in my mind,” said Alamo.
It was a queer world in which a cultured man like Alamo could be indebted for ideas to a clumsy barbarian like the Portuguese knight; Rich must have looked his surprise, because Alamo hastened to explain.
“He was complaining of the uselessness of the Indians, just as everyone else does,” said Alamo. “And then he went on to say how in Lisbon they have Negro slaves nowadays. Stout dependable laborers, brought from the African coast . . . I had heard about that before, but it had slipped my memory until Don João reminded me of it. They breed freely, do the Negroes. If Their Highnesses could arrange with the King of Portugal for a supply of Negroes to be sent here . . .”
“You are right, by God!” said Rich.
“This hot climate would be native to them,” said Alamo. “They could do the heavy work and our Spanish gentlemen fresh out of the gaols would not think it beneath them to supervise.”
“And the Indians could be spared,” said Rich, with kindly enthusiasm. “Perhaps part of the island could be set aside for them to live without interference. Save for Christian teaching, of course.”
This last was a hurried addition.
“The Church would give her blessing,” went on Alamo. “The Negroes would be brought out of heathen darkness in Africa to lead a Christian life here.”
They eyed each other, a little flushed and excited.
“Sir,” said Rich, solemnly. “I think that today you have made a suggestion which may change the history of Spain. In my report to His Highness — ”
“I would rather, if possible, that His Highness was not reminded of my existence,” said Alamo. “Torquemada . . .”
“I understand,” said Rich, sadly.
But this was the most cheerful thing which had been brought to his notice since his arrival in Española. Rich had been worrying about the report he had to write, which would go to Spain as soon as the Holy Name was ready for sea again. It would have been a cheerless thing without this creative suggestion added to it — merely a sweeping condemnation of the Admiral’s administrative system, and of the methods of the colonists, combined with the gloomiest prophecies regarding the future of the island. Rich knew quite well what favor was given to those advisers of the Crown who brought nothing but unpalatable truths to the council board. If he could sketch out a future of plenteous cargoes of sugar at five hundred maravedis an ounce, and suggest a profitable trade in Negro slaves, his state paper would be a great deal more acceptable and would not prejudice his own future — would not imperil his own life — nearly as much.
“But,” said Rich, half to himself, “there’s a lot to be done before that.”
He was thinking of the disorder in the island — of Roldan’s passive rebellion, the vague property laws, the muddled policies.
“That is not my concern, thank God,” said Alamo, guessing — as was not difficult — what was in Rich’s mind. “You will have to settle all that with the Admiral. I am no more than assayer and naturalist. Politics are not my province.”
Rich thought how lucky Alamo was. There had been a time when he himself had been delighted at the thought of taking part in the administration of a new empire, but there was no pleasure in it now for him. Those endless conferences in the citadel of San Domingo only left him with an exasperated sense of frustration. It was hard for any decision to be reached — at least, it was hard for the Admiral to reach a decision. There was the pitiful difficulty that Roldan, thanks to his appointment as Alcalde Mayor, could claim a legal justification for his actions.
“Why not revoke the appointment, Your Excellency?” asked Rich. “Any disobedience then would be treason and could be punished as such.”
“That would drive him to desperate measures,” said the Admiral. “God knows what he would do then.”
“But what could he do?”
“He could march on San Domingo. He could fight us.”
Rich looked at Bartholomew Columbus. This was clearly his cue.
“He might,” said Bartholomew. “But I doubt it.”
“What force has he got?”
“As many men as we have. More perhaps,” interposed the Admiral. “And — and — perhaps all our men would not fight for us.”
That was perfectly possible, at least in a few cases.
“But would all Roldan’s men fight for him?” asked Rich. He was wondering what he himself would do in such a case. Certainly he would think long before he appeared in arms, an obvious rebel.
Bartholomew glanced at him for once with approval. “Now you’re on the right road,” he said. “Treason is treason either side of the ocean. Some would fear for their necks, and would wait to see what would happen. Proclaim Roldan dismissed. Give him a month to come in and submit. If he does not, march against him. Half his men would not fight.”
“But what would they say in Spain?” said the Admiral pathetically.
That was the trouble. Once let the court of Spain know that there was rebellion in her new colony, that the Admiral could not control his subordinates, and Their Highnesses would have every justification for removing their Viceroy from office. There was suspicion in the old man’s eyes as he looked round the room. Who would be his successor in that case? Bartholomew, the hero of the Indian rebellion? Rich, who had been sent out for no obvious good purpose? Rich could see the struggle in the Admiral’s face. His position, his power — even such as it was — were very dear to him. After a lifetime of unimportance, he now found himself Admiral and Viceroy, and he did not want to lose the splendid position his genius had won for him, even though his genius was not of the kind to make his position supportable. He was bound to regard with suspicion any advice which came from those who might hope to succeed him. He felt alone and friendless, and his first instinct was to temporize.
And Rich, knowing quite well what sort of secret report was awaiting transmission by the Holy Name to Their Highnesses, could hardly blame him. But Rich’s sense of justice and order, quite apart from his sympathy for the poor old man, urged him to try to make some sort of settlement of this disastrous state of affairs. He wanted to be able to add a postscript to his report, saying that he hoped that shortly the situation would be in hand.
“But something ought to be done,” he said.
“Wh
at do you suggest?” asked Bartholomew, curiously.
“Proclaiming Roldan’s dismissal would deprive him of the support of some of his people,” said Rich. “Isn’t it possible to split his party still farther? Can’t we make offers which would bring over a large number? García might come back, for instance, or Tarpia, if we bribed heavily enough. Then with Roldan once caught and hanged we could deal with them on a new basis.”
Rich was a little surprised at himself for making such proposals. He had never believed he had it in him to contemplate any such vigorous action. He remembered Tarquin in Rome, cutting off the heads of the tallest poppies; he thought of Caesar Borgia in the Romagna, dividing his enemies and striking them down one by one. All that was very well in theory, to a book-learned man; he was genuinely astonished to find himself advocating the actual practice — prepared even, if need be, to put it into execution himself. He hated the thought of fighting just as much as the Admiral did — although he concealed it better — but he was not nearly so averse to this kind of intrigue.
“But how can we bribe them?” asked James Columbus, his foolish jaw gaping.
“The Admiral has more in his gift than Roldan has. Titles. Offices. Estates.”
Rich was searching in his mind for the sort of thing that would appeal to the García he visualized standing before him. “Some new expedition to seek for the Great Khan — García would desert anyone in exchange for the command of that.”
He was proposing treachery of the meanest possible sort, he knew. Yet he was only proposing to meet treachery, and then only when it seemed impossible to employ any other means.
“No one but me sails from Española on any expedition at all,” said the Admiral, instantly. That showed what was necessary to rouse him.
“It need only be promised him,” said Rich wearily. “Your Excellency can reconsider it when Roldan is once hanged.”
The Admiral peered at him with narrowed eyes. It was only obvious that he suspected Rich of planning something more than he had actually suggested — that he was subtly endeavoring to filch from him a little of his precious power and possessions.
“Never!” said the Admiral. “I shall never allow such a subject to be discussed!”
This was the sort of exasperating deadlock to which Rich had grown accustomed in these last few days.
“As Your Excellency wishes, of course,” he said. “I am merely making what suggestions occur to me.”
That meeting, like those preceding it, broke up without any decision. The next seemed to call for a plan even more urgently because now there was a new and disastrous development. The sentinel on the citadel ramparts announced a ship — she was the caravel Rosa, one of the three which had parted from the main expedition to sail direct to Española and which should have arrived three months back. Anxiously they watched her, running gaily down before the eternal east wind, the Admiral and the Adelantado and the rest of the Columbus clan, Rich and Alamo and the Acevedo brothers.
“She’s the Rosa!” said Perez with satisfaction.
“She carried most of the horses,” said the Admiral.
“Did she, by God!” said Bartholomew. “Then that will end our friend Roldan’s career, if enough have survived this infernal long voyage they have made.”
“A big ‘if’, ” whispered Alamo to Rich.
“Why?”
“I know more about those horses than the Admiral does. The horses that came on board are not the same ones as Their Highnesses paid for. The contractors showed the Admiral two hundred horses on land for his approval, and shipped two hundred quite different horses when they had received it. Four months at sea? Half of them would not survive four days!”
They watched the Rosa catch the sea breeze and head for the river mouth.
“No sign of the other two,” said Bartholomew, anxiously. He scanned the horizon unavailingly. “Lost at sea? Parted company? We shall know soon.”
They knew soon enough; there were three captains on board the Rosa with reports to make. It was a rambling story, of losing their way, of finding themselves among the unexplored cannibal islands to the south-eastward, and of finally anchoring at Isabella in the north of the island — Roldan’s headquarters.
“Holy Mary!” said Bartholomew. “What next?”
Ballester, the captain of the Rosa, spread helpless hands.
“Half the men in our crews left us,” he said. “Sixty men — there had been much sickness, as I said. They took the other two caravels. They took the stores out of the Rosa. Those of us who would not join them they allowed to sail round to here. That man with no ears — Martinez — would have made us walk across the mountains, sick though we all were. But Roldan let us take the Rosa. He said — ”
Ballester checked himself.
“What did he say?”
Ballester had no desire to repeat what Roldan had said.
“Really, sir, it was not important. I could not — ”
“What did he say?”
“Well, he said we should soon come sailing back to him after a little experience of San Domingo.”
There was an awkward pause, until Bartholomew changed the subject.
“How many men did you leave at Isabella?”
“Sixty-two. Twenty of them were sick.”
“How many horses?”
“Five.”
“Five? Where are the other hundred?”
“Dead, sir. We were short of water for a long time. And on the voyage — ”
“That’s all right, man. If Roldan has them, I would rather they were all dead. How many men have you brought in the Rosa?”
“Forty-seven, sir. That includes five sick who are likely to die, and two friars.”
The council looked at each other.
“The balance is hardly altered then,” was Bartholomew’s comment. “We can still fight him.”
Despite the heat and the drumming of the rain outside Rich found his brain working fast. The newly landed Spaniards at Isabella would be a source of dissension there, very likely. They would not — gaolbirds though they might be — take kindly to fighting Spaniards the moment they had landed. They might have slipped easily into mutiny after the hardships of the voyage, but they might hesitate at treason. An immediate move on Isabella would cause them to hesitate, and hesitation is infectious. Roldan’s men would hesitate as well. The passive rebellion might be borne down by a bold stroke.
“The sooner the better,” he said, without time to wonder at himself for such advocacy of energetic action.
Everyone looked at the Admiral now, and the Admiral shifted in his seat and eyed them uneasily. With the arrival of the squadron there could be no question of further postponement of the decision. And Rich, watching him, noticed how he gazed first at him and then at the Adelantado; he guessed what wild conclusions the Admiral was drawing from the unwonted circumstance of the two of them being of one mind. Rich was paralleling the Admiral’s thoughts quite closely, yet even he was surprised at what the Admiral decided eventually to do. The decision was not reached easily. There was argument — of course there was argument — and a little spurt of old man’s rage, but it was agreed to in the end. The Admiral was to sail round in the Rosa to Isabella, and there he was to make one last effort to recall Roldan and his supporters to their allegiance, and, in the event of their refusal, he was to denounce them as traitors.
“One more wasted month,” sneered the Adelantado, reluctantly agreeing.
Rich thought the same, but in the face of the old man’s unreasoning obstinacy there was only one alternative to agreement, and that was to raise a fresh mutiny in San Domingo.
Chapter 18
The Admiral had sailed, and Rich had leisure now for his other duties, to make plans for the future government of the colony, to try to estimate its future worth, to put the final touches on the report to Their Highnesses which had already grown to such inordinate length. It called for a good deal of consideration to discover the right wording of the suggestio
n that in place of shiploads of gold and pearls Their Highnesses would be better advised to expect sugar and hides, and of the advice that negotiations should be opened with the half-hostile court of Lisbon for the supply of Negroes.
Still deeper consideration was necessary to suggest a working system of government. There was one precedent to follow in this case — the constitution of the late Kingdom of Jerusalem. The Holy Land, like Española, was to all intents a new country conquered from the heathen by the Christians, and its constitution had been drawn up in the Assize of Jerusalem in clear-cut legal Latin which embodied the deepest thought of the Middle Ages on the knotty problem of how to erect a stable government on the shaky foundation of the feudal system. But the Kingdom of Jerusalem had fallen through its own rottenness, after all. And there was, as Rich came wearily to realize time and again, that thrice-accursed agreement between Their Highnesses and the Admiral which would hinder any attempt on the part of the court of Spain to make any laws for the Indies, as long as the Admiral clung so frantically to every bit of the power which that fantastic document had granted him.
To the Indies Page 19