Prisoner of the Indies

by Geoffrey Household

  I hired two Indians to be my guides and bought chickens and bread for our journey. They warned me also to carry flint and steel and good dry tinder so as to be sure of our fires at night, since the forest was full of jaguars. So we started north, thereafter losing sight of the sun because the gloom of the vast trees was continually overhead. For all I knew we might have been walking round and round in circles.

  During the day they kept good watch under their feet and above the path, for there are venomous serpents on the ground and the jaguars will stretch themselves on the branches of trees to fall upon any meat which passes below them. They would also beat the water before crossing any river to frighten away the monsters which lie in wait beneath the surface.

  At night we made two great fires and placed ourselves and my mare between them. Round about us we could see the fires reflected in the eyes of beasts and hear their roaring. Whether they were jaguars or monkeys or great lizards I know not, but there were too many for the liking of me and my mare, who would stay very close to me and move as little as she might.

  On the tenth day we began to follow a river and on the twelfth came to the tideway, where the mud beneath the trees recalled to me the St Germans River which I had left so long ago as a foolish boy of thirteen. And there at last was the open sea and the town of Puerto Cavallos.

  When I set eyes on Puerto Cavallos, I saw that the advice which Brother Bernardo had given me was very wise. It was a miserable place of straw huts with no guns or fort to defend it, nor soldiers and justices to ask me what my business was. Yet four fine ships were moored in deep water alongside a wooden quay, where they had unloaded barrels of Canary wine and were now taking on their cargo.

  I rode into the town with my Indians trotting beside me as if I were a man of some standing. My clothes were torn and filthy and my beard untrimmed. But that was of no consequence since the King of Spain himself would be in the same condition if he chose to travel in Honduras.

  There was a tavern on the beach, or so I will call it though it was open to the four winds and had no more than two benches and a table under a thatched roof to keep off the rain. It was full of seamen sitting on barrels or on the sanded floor. When I had stabled and fed my mare, I threw some pesos on the counter and invited anyone to drink with me who would. I soon learned that good fortune had led me to Puerto Cavallos just at the right time. Four ships from Spain called there only once a year, and they would soon sail to join the homeward fleet. One of them, the San Silvestre of one hundred tons, had finished her lading and would depart before the rest. Her Master, they said, came from Granada in Andalusia and was an easy, obliging fellow as are most of the Spaniards of those parts.

  After paying my guides and sending them on their way to an Indian village down the coast, I walked out along the quay and saw that the hatches were being fitted to the forehold of the San Silvestre and that only a little cargo remained for the after-hold. So I went up to the poop and was well received by the Master, who was pleased to say that I was the first Christian he had met in Puerto Cavallos, by which he meant a person who was neither Indian nor mestizo.

  I gave him my name of Miguel Perez and said that I had been born in Granada but remembered little of it, having been carried to New Spain by my parents when I was a child.

  He cried out that then I was a countryman of his and, either out of courtesy or because he did not wish to appear ignorant, said that he knew my family. Since Perez is as common a name in Spain as Philips in England, it is probable that he did.

  He told me that, God willing, he would leave the other three ships in this stinking hole of a port and sail for Spain in two days’ time. He had a full cargo of cochineal, indigo, salsaparilla and hides, together with some gold and silver, and would go by way of Havana and wait there for the fleet.

  ‘Will you give me a passage to Spain?’ I asked.

  ‘With much pleasure,’ he answered, ‘if it depended on me. But have you the right to leave New Spain?’

  I said that I needed none, being my own master, and that I was weary of the heat and fevers of Honduras and could see no chance of becoming rich.

  ‘Have you no letter from your mayor or regidor?’ he asked, still doubting me. ‘For all I know – if you will pardon me – you may have killed someone or be avoiding your debts, for both are misfortunes which may overtake the most worthy of men.’

  I assured him that I was guiltless of any crime. As for letters and safe conducts, I said, where would I get them? And I pointed to the straw huts on the beach and the forests which stretched as far as the eye could see.

  He agreed at last to take me to Spain for the sum of sixty pesos. Thereupon I sold my red mare to a mestizo, begging him to take good care of her. And I think indeed she may have had an easier life of it with him than with me, for he only wanted a horse to show his fellows that he had one, and not for any good it would be to him. He made his living by drying meat in the sun and selling it to shipmasters, and travelled from one harbour to another in his own pinnace.

  So with the price of the mare and some gold pieces from my doublet I could pay my passage and lay in a store of bread and hens for my provisions. I was heartily sickened of hen after my travelling. But they are the best food a man can buy, since they will stay alive in their coop and give fresh meat in place of salt. And, if they should lay, there is always some chance of gathering an egg before the thieving hands of seamen are attracted by the cackling.

  Our voyage to Havana was the pleasantest I ever knew with a fair wind all the way. The company lived better than on an English ship, for the Spaniards continually catch fresh fish, having more practice than we in warm waters, and cook them in a score of different ways, all excellent good. The San Silvestre was very poorly armed and an easy prey for any French or English privateer who might have come up with her. But now I had no wish for a fight, as I had when I sailed from Acapulco, believing myself safely on my way home.

  I had thought there was no good port but Cartagena in the North Sea, so I marvelled to find Havana fit for an empire as great as King Philip’s. The entrance to the harbour is very narrow and within may lie a thousand ships, sheltered from all winds and protected by the fort.

  It was now towards the end of May when the homeward bound fleet assembles in Havana, coming from the Main and the Islands, from New Spain with the gold and silver of the mines and from the Isthmus of Panama with all the treasure of Peru. There were also four great ships in the port newly arrived from Spain, carrying soldiers and heavy cannon for Campeche, Florida and San Juan de Ulua. It was said that King Philip had now at last charged his generals to see to the defence of the Indies.

  The bay was so gallant with masts and banners that one could hardly tell sea from shore. Flags were flying from the tower of the fort showing that more ships were in sight. The watchmen there hoist a flag for every sail that comes over the horizon so that the Captain of the Port may know what to expect.

  I was right glad to find myself in a town with such a throng of fair women, merchants and seamen. So I walked about freely thinking no harm could come to me. But would to God I had stayed on board the San Silvestre, content to catch fish, save my money and mind my business!

  It happened that one evening I was drinking with a master gunner who had been ordered to New Spain much against his will, and had come out in one of the four ships. I told him that at San Juan he would find great cannon taken from the Jesus of Lubeck and that some of the English guns had been dragged three hundred miles over the mountains to the South Sea. Then he began to curse the English, whom he claimed to know very well, saying that they cared nothing for the laws of sea or land, and that since they became heretics they would as soon eat their babies as baptise them.

  I could not rid myself of the man. He came with me to the water steps shouting so loud at being shipped abroad from house and home that an officer of the Admiral’s guard made up to us to see who the mutinous fellow was. Having ordered him to keep a civil tongue and sent him to his qu
arters, the officer, who was accompanied by two corporals splendidly armed and apparelled, put me in fear by asking what I did and whether I was seaman or merchant. I replied that I was but a poor man on his way home from Honduras to Spain.

  ‘Well, I will see you to your ship,’ he said, ‘and speak with the Master.’

  He had a boat and rowers at hand. When I hesitated, his corporals made as if they would force me into it. So we went on board the San Silvestre and up to the great cabin where he questioned the Master, asking if I held any position of authority. The Master, who was now as weak as he had been formerly obliging, said that I was only a passenger and that he hoped he had done no wrong in accepting me.

  ‘That is as may be,’ said the officer. ‘But if he is poor, I doubt not he will be glad to serve King Philip and be paid for his trouble.’

  Then he took my hand in his and claimed me for a soldier, saying that I must therefore provide myself with sword, arquebus powder and shot, and that the Master must return me as much of my passage money as would serve to pay for them.

  This he was compelled to do there and then, and two days later I was taken on board the San Felipe which was the Admiral’s galleon of the Indian Guard, and found myself answering the drums as a soldier of Spain at eighteen pesos a month.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Now, the reason they were arming every man they could lay their hands on was this: Don Antonio, who was the pretender to the throne of Portugal usurped by King Philip, was said to be lying in wait for the Treasure Fleet off the Azores with a powerful force, among them many English ships. Except for the two galleons of the Guard, our fleet was all of deeply-laden merchantmen which could neither fight nor flee. So they put some soldiers into every one, who at least could repel boarders.

  We sailed on June the Fourth, the whole fleet of thirty-seven ships keeping station well and as gallant a sight as any man could wish to see. On the San Felipe we were well provided for the voyage, having all we could need of rice, beans, bread and wine with the sun-dried meat which they call boucanned. This is far better than the salt beef and pork which the English use, for half of our casks are full of nothing but fat and bone to fill the pockets of the chandlers, and the other half is rancid and rotten.

  In a few days I could take my place in the files and handle my weapons near as well as my comrades. This was natural enough, since every day for over a year I had watched the soldiers at work in the waist of the Jesus of Lubeck, having much good will towards them because my father had been a man-at-arms on the ships of Harry the Eighth.

  So I was fool enough not to show myself clumsy at my work, and the old soldiers were contented with their recruit. They asked me where and when I had learned the trade of war, knowing that in New Spain men had little practice. Remembering Don Robles Alcalde de Corte and his famous battle, I said that I had made a campaign against the Indians.

  My service was made easy for me by a common soldier whose name was Rafael Camacho, a native of Toledo. He had so great a sense of honour that I saw why the Spanish infantry is invincible on land, and I thought it well for England that we must fight at sea.

  Rafael possessed nothing but his arms, his breeches and an old buff coat. But he held himself so proudly and showed such spirit that when he was sashed, helmeted and fully accoutred you would have taken his buff coat for a prince’s armour. He had been a soldier on the galleys in the Mediterranean and fought against the French and the Turks. He would follow no calling but that of arms, and hoped that one day he might receive some reward either for his bravery or by way of loot.

  ‘But how few are those who gain anything, Miguel,’ he said to me sadly, ‘compared to the number who perish!’

  One morning when we were both sitting in the bows, watching the flying fish and cleaning the specks of rust from our swords, he told me how the galleys fought, charging upon each other while the rowers, poor wretches, quickened the stroke till the oldest of them dropped dead upon the benches. Meanwhile the most fearless of the soldiers – of whom I am sure that he was one – stood upon a board, not more than two feet wide, above the beak or ram of the galley, ready to leap aboard the enemy and facing the mouths of his cannon only a pike’s length away.

  Then said I, ‘But why does not the enemy stand off and pour his shot into the oars and the hull?’

  He shrugged his shoulders, saying that it was a question for the admirals and not for him, but that he thought it dishonourable that two ships should not try to grapple together and fight it out.

  So I warned him what he might expect to see if the English came up with us off the Azores.

  ‘When the Master of the San Felipe tries to lay alongside, they will run and then luff up and give us a broadside, aiming at the rudder, the foot of the mainmast and the planks which lift from the sea on the roll, until the San Felipe is only a hulk on the water.’

  ‘Well, they have still to board us,’ said Rafael, ‘and you and I will make brave work of them.’

  ‘They will not board,’ I answered. ‘They will then turn on the merchantmen, leaving our ship to sink or swim if she will not strike her colours.’

  ‘Which God forbid!’ he roared. ‘But this is not war. There is no honour in it!’

  I was about to tell him that there was honour aplenty for the skilled seamen and the gunners, but I noticed a certain Manuel García lying in the shade of the fore castle and listening to us. He was not such an honest, simple fellow as Rafael, so I thought it best not to show too much knowledge of the English, and set to polishing the plates of my arquebus and changing the charge of powder.

  This Manuel García was a Cuban who, like myself, had intended to return to Spain as a passenger and been impressed to serve as a soldier for the voyage. Now, among Cubans you will find one in every four who has come from Galicia, where in the town of Cerceda I claimed to have been born.

  Soon afterwards he came up to me speaking in some outlandish tongue of which I could make but little.

  ‘Why, Miguel!’ said he. ‘You were a boy in Cerceda and do not know a word of Gallego?’

  This Gallego of theirs is the speech of the province of Galicia and sounds like Portuguese, but even a man of Portugal cannot easily understand it.

  I answered that I had left my native land too early.

  ‘But you would have spoken it at your mother’s knee,’ he said, ‘before you knew Spanish at all.’

  ‘Well, but my mother came from Castile.’

  ‘And your father too?’

  I swore that the two always spoke Spanish together, but I could see that I had not persuaded him. And indeed it was unlikely that a boy would not know whatever barbarous speech was used in the streets of his town, even if his parents did not speak it.

  Thereafter this Manuel García was always forcing his company on me. Rafael, who distrusted him and was sure that he would hide in the hold at our first battle, kept an eye on his comings and goings and learned that Manuel had secretly sent word to the Master that he had something to tell him.

  ‘What could he want with the Master?’ I exclaimed. ‘Does García think he would be safer as a seaman taking in the topsails in a storm?’

  ‘I suspect that it concerns you,’ said Rafael, ‘and is some lie which he dare not whisper to the sergeant.’

  Bad soldiers, he said, would often try to curry favour with an officer by tale-bearing against any comrade who, they feared, might be promoted over them.

  ‘Now, today is my turn to be sentinel on the poop,’ he went on, ‘where, as you know, a man may stand to his arms as still as a statue and listen to what is being said in the cabin. I will ask the sergeant if you can take my place, and then you will be forewarned if García has any private matter against you.’

  This we did, and I heard every word that this cursed Cuban said. First, he told the Master that though I was already a boy when I left Cerceda I could not speak Gallego. Second, that I lied when I claimed to have learned my drill in fighting Indians, for a rising is put down by horsem
en in cotton armour, not by infantry attacking shoulder to shoulder as in the days of Cortés.

  ‘Also this man, Miguel Perez, knows far too much of the way the English fight at sea,’ he said, ‘and I myself believe him to be an Englishman who is either a spy or an escaped prisoner.’

  The Master replied that he had not marked me well, but thought I was as good a Spaniard as himself. However, he thanked García and said that he would have me questioned by the authorities at Seville, who would soon get at the truth.

  When I came off duty, I told Rafael that he was mistaken and that the fellow only wished to know if he might have better quarters for money, not being content to lie with the rest of us on the deck. I dared not show my alarm and could only hope that the Master would forget me in the bustle of disembarking. So I continued to be as merry and pleasant as I could lest anyone should suspect I had something on my conscience.

  From then on I longed to see the banners of England and Portugal, for I would rather risk the fiercest battle than the rack and prisons of the Holy Office. But the Admiral took his course far to the north, and we saw no land until on the Tenth of September we came up with shoals at the mouth of the Guadalquivir and anchored off San Lucar.

  The merchantmen waited in the channel for the tide to carry them up to the town or on up river to Seville. They were surrounded by boats which had put out from San Lucar at the first sight of the fleet, some with wives and parents, some full of priests and friars carrying the images of saints in order that they might see us more clearly than they could do from heaven.

  The great San Felipe was moored to the Customs House jetty which ran out into the stream, her stern held steady by two long cables, one to a buoy and one to the shore. Our fore castle overhung the jetty and a way was made for the Admiral and his officers to go ashore, which they did with much crossing of themselves and saluting of the ship. As soon as they had reached their coaches and their baggage was clear of the jetty, we ourselves were given leave to land.