A sling-bolt hit the Major’s scabbard, whereupon he hurried back to the beach, shouting to all who cared to listen that he must retire and protect the ladies. He left Don Lorenzo and Captain Corzo in a hot dispute as to which of them should command the troops; for Don Lorenzo was the senior captain of the flagship, but Don Felipe held an independent command. Before the two could come to blows, or involve others in their quarrel, the Colonel came running out of the grove, incensed by this interruption of his gallantries. According to Matia, he was waving his sword, and at the same time fastening the points of his hose with the left hand. He pricked a native in the thigh, and his negro split the skull of another with his axe. One more volley was fired and the villagers fled, followed by our men who killed no less than seventy of them, including women and children, before they could take shelter in the dense woods. The Colonel pressed the pursuit almost to the mountain summits, where they entrenched themselves. Our people suffered no casualties, except that one soldier was lightly wounded in the foot by a barbed wooden spear; but it proved not to be poisoned and he could walk again within a week.
The work of watering and collecting wood continued; but the sailors grumbled ceaselessly at being deprived of native labour by the quarrelsomeness of the troops, who were now guarding the village against attack and offered no assistance. ‘If these natives had fire-arms,’ the Boatswain’s mate said scornfully, ‘or even poisoned arrows, such precautions might be needed; but, though strong and virile, they only play at war.’ He added that these piquets were posted merely to excuse the soldiers’ sloth.
During the next two days the villagers remained in their entrenchments, occasionally making the valleys echo with loud halloos, as if to discover whether we were still ashore; our people answered them with shouts. On the third day they sent down an embassy of old men, who brought presents of bananas and paw-paws to our advanced piquets and signed that they wished to forget what had passed, and be friends again. In proof of their sincerity they handed back the shears, and the Colonel, who was fetched to confer with them, thereupon granted them full pardon. ‘It pains me,’ he said, ‘to think of you old fellows lying up there matless on the hard mountain top, and your pretty grand-daughters parted from their wardrobes. Come, men, be sensible, and accept the benignant sovereignty of King Philip.’
They went back to report their kind reception to the Chieftain, who soon afterwards led his tribe down to the outskirts of the village. When informed that the General was in the flagship and could not come, he agreed to treat with the Colonel instead. He was understood to ask why we did not accept his gift of the huts, which had been vacated for us with all their contents.
The Colonel wagged his forefinger at him merrily, and replied that we would take nothing from his people but food, drink and kisses, if they in turn were careful to take nothing of greater value from us; but whether the Chieftain understood this is not known, because the stern cast of his features never relaxed.
The truce was ratified by another exchange of gifts and the villagers returned to their huts as if no breach of the peace had occurred, but we could see that they held us in great awe. They brought their dead with them on litters, and from the lacerated cheeks and breasts of the women I judged that the halloos we heard had been part of the mourning ceremonies. The corpses’ bowels were already removed and the skin punctured in many places to drain off the waters of the belly; old women now laid them in the sun and rubbed them with coconut oil for an Egyptian embalmment. In a dense wood, not far from the entrenchments, our soldiers had found a cemetery where coffins containing naked mummies were tied to the branches of trees.
‘They are tamed for the present,’ boasted the Colonel, ‘but it might be well to remind them from time to time of their new allegiance.’
Our people now fraternized with the natives and took comrades with whom they exchanged gifts and conversation. They asked each other by signs the names of the earth, the sea, the sky, the sun, the moon and stars, and everything else within view; but the soldiers were instructed not to let any villager touch an arquebus or learn how to discharge it, lest he made perfidious use of the knowledge. The Chaplain had the shark-priest for his comrade, and intervened on his behalf when soldiers stole a joint of roast pork from the oracle-house: Christians being forbidden to eat meat that has been offered to an idol. These two took pleasure in each other’s company and the Chaplain taught Terridiri, who had a wonderfully keen ear and a retentive memory, to repeat the Credo and Paternoster, and covered his nakedness with an old shirt; yet could not persuade him to relinquish his shark-spear.
He told the good Father that when men die they descend to a hell of three storeys, the lowest miserable in the extreme, the middle one tolerable, the uppermost exceedingly pleasant. Admission to the uppermost, he said, is secured either by death in battle, or by the sacrifice of a great many pigs. He also described a glorious heaven above the stars to which the souls of chieftains go to feast with their gods. In vain did Father Antonio try to undeceive Terridiri, by telling him of the true Hell and the true Heaven and insisting, with much emotion, that only the Cross could save from eternal fire: he smiled and said that the shark’s head told him otherwise, and the good Father, who had hoped to make a convert of him, was deeply grieved by his obstinacy.
Terridiri asked leave to go aboard the flagship and speak to the General, and this was granted. The Chaplain led him to the skiff, which he entered with great satisfaction. Don Alvaro received him cordially, offering him quince-conserve and wine; but he would neither eat nor drink, because his idol forbade him. He admired the cows and sheep, counted the sails, tapped and smelt the wood of the masts, went below and noted everything with a care that we found surprising in a savage; and at last persuaded the shark’s head to confer a blessing on the San Geronimo which, he said, would now weather the most violent storms and never sink or run aground. When he heard that we were not to remain long in the harbour, he appeared downcast and regretted that his duties at the oracle-house prevented him from joining us. Terridiri was so grave and ecclesiastical in bearing, and so closely resembled a certain canon of Seville, that I could not resist a laugh: I saw him in my mind’s eye, spear in hand and necklace a-jingle, mounting into the pulpit of the Cathedral to preach a learned sermon on the Fall.
It was the custom in this island that young girls were free to lie with whomever they pleased, and our people took full advantage of this. Only the married women, who were tattooed as lavishly as the men, remained faithful to their husbands; but, as we learned to our disgust, every one of them acknowledged at least two husbands who, though abstaining from mutual jealousy, would combine to take revenge on any lover that she might entertain without their knowledge. With such hospitality shown them, our troops should have refrained from the least abuse; but the officers set a bloody example. I was in the Great Cabin one morning, when Captain Corzo entered, his greyhound on a leash, to report on the repairs to the San Felipe. Afterwards he remarked to Don Alvaro that his hound was in fine condition: he had gorged himself on the spoils of the first massacre. ‘But this supply having come to an end,’ he said, ‘I went foraging last night when my company was on guard, and now the larder is replenished.’
‘Ay, Don Felipe,’ exclaimed the General, not wishing to understand the Captain’s odious meaning, lest he should be obliged to reprove him, ‘it is well for a hound to gnaw a fresh bone now and then; but I trust you recompensed the owner of the pig with some gift of value?’
The Barretos sneered when they heard the tale and thereafter did as they pleased. The next day, Don Diego was in command of the standing guard in the flagship, when two canoes, carrying eleven natives, entered the harbour from the south. He told the soldiers to make no answer if they were hailed, but to light their matches and keep their pieces primed. The canoes stopped at some distance from the ship and the natives shouted and held up gifts of coconuts. Receiving no reply, they trustfully came nearer, and when they were at point-blank range Don Diego gave the ord
er to fire. Two fell dead, the others turned to flee, but three more were killed as they paddled swiftly past the galleon on their way to the shore. Don Diego jumped into the skiff to give chase, and only three unwounded men reached the beach by swimming, whence they ran to the top of the triple-peaked hill. He seized the canoes, with one or two dead bodies in them, the rest having fallen in the sea, and went back to report that he had beaten off an attempt to surprise and take the San Geronimo. Don Alvaro was fain to believe this lie and delivered the bodies to the Colonel with orders to display them at the corner of the village street, as a demonstration of what savages might expect who attacked Spaniards treacherously.
When I went ashore it pained me to see the corpses hanging from the eaves of a house, because I knew too well on which side treachery lay: not one of the murdered men had carried arms. However, it would have been idle to give the General a truthful account of the skirmish: even if my word had been accepted before Don Diego’s, a reprimand would have provoked him to even greater wickedness. My indignation increased when the Major offered his fulsome congratulations on the victory, swearing that these ugly shot-wounds would make a wholesome impression on the villagers, and so would wide gashes made by swords. He drew his own blade as he spoke, and hacked at one of the bodies, that of a large-limbed warrior; then he borrowed a lance and, charging from a little distance, transfixed its belly—‘so hares may pull dead lions by the beard,’ I reminded myself.
The natives came silently at night, cut down the corpses and took them away.
***
Our people had now occupied several huts in the neighbourhood of the spring; one served as guard-room; a second was used by the Colonel’s faction; a third by Don Lorenzo’s; a fourth by sailors who did the watering; and others by officers of the Santa Ysabel and the two smaller vessels. The Chief Pilot, scandalized by the killing of the natives, did not go ashore once while we lay off Santa Cristina; no advantage would be served if he fell foul of the Colonel, as might well happen.
His disgust at the cruel and unceasing slaughter was shared by our ship’s officers. The Boatswain sat in the sailors’ hut one morning when our gigantic Ensign, Don Tomás de Ampuero, entered and seeing an arquebus leaning against the wall, asked: ‘What is this, friend Marcos?’
‘Since the attack on the flagship,’ the Boatswain answered, ‘if such it was, the General has ordered me to take a weapon with me whenever I go ashore.’
‘Is it charged?’ asked the Ensign.
‘There is no need,’ he replied.
‘Man, what sense is there in carrying an empty arquebus with you? Let me charge it.’
He took the piece and loaded it with powder and ball; then he reached for the Boatswain’s tinder-box, struck a light, kindled the match and went to the entrance of the hut, idly aiming at a man some fifty paces away who, mounted on a wooden trestle, was engaged in scraping a coconut. He would have shot him, too, had not the Boatswain knocked the arquebus up just in time. The ball flew into a palm-tree and happened to cut down a couple of coconuts, which fell to the ground. The villagers cried out in wonder at this feat, not knowing that it had been accidental, and begged Don Tomás to shoot down a few more.
‘What were you doing, your honour?’ asked the Boatswain with indignation.
‘Why, killing of course!’ replied Don Tomás. ‘I was diligently following the example of my seniors.’
‘How can you be so ready to spill blood?’ Don Marcos continued. ‘What harm have these people done you? It is no proof of valour to play the wolf among lambs. Have you never learned what a foul and sinful thing it is to murder a body that houses a yet unredeemed soul? One day you will be taught that lesson; but by then repentance will have come too late.’
The Ensign was offended by this reproof and cried rudely: ‘Base-born sailor! Scum of Barcelona! Who made you a guardian of my conscience? Have a care, lest one day you lose your teeth or your tongue!’
‘Have you never been told,’ the Boatswain returned, ‘that it is the duty of every Catholic, however humble, to reprove sin when he sees it, even in a person with more quarterings on his coat and a better education than you have to show?’
These words ended their friendship, and Jaume the water-steward who was present, said: ‘There goes one who murdered flies when a child, and frogs and kittens when a boy; to my knowledge, he has already dropped half a dozen natives from sheer wantonness. This island is an earthly paradise where man, as you may see by his nakedness and ignorance of shame, has escaped the curse of Adam. He need not toil, because the soil yields in abundance and the climate is kind. I for one would be content to spend the remainder of my life among these happy people, if there were a priest at hand to confess me when I came to die and give me Christian burial. How can the Ensign bring himself to do murder in Eden? He should be locked up in a mad-house and whipped until his evil spirits fly howling away.’
Jaume spoke to the point: apart from the labour of kindling a fire by the brisk ploughing of a hard stick along the groove of a piece of tinder, or the hollowing out of canoes with adzes made of shell, no work demanding exertion was needed. Water flowed from a perpetual spring. Food hung from every tree; and not only fruit and nuts, but even bread: in the plantation behind the village grew hundreds of these bread-trees, as we called them. They have toothed leaves resembling those of the paw-paw, and the timber is admirable for all purposes. The fruit which, we were told, hangs on the tree for fully half the year, is a clear green when ripe, and the size of a boy’s hand, not quite round, with crossed scales like a pineapple; a leafy stalk springs from its very centre. It has neither core nor pips, and almost every part of it is edible. The villagers cooked this fruit, which they called ‘white food,’ in a variety of ways and found it sustaining. The commonest was to roast it on the embers of a fire, peeling off the charred rind, before they cut it into quarters for the table. A great quantity of bread-fruit was harvested when the season was at its height, and they were pounded into the sour dough called tutao. Close to every hut was a leaf-lined pit filled to the brim with this substance, which was said to stay wholesome for many years; and we found a great pit common to the whole village, fully twenty feet deep—their provision against bad seasons.
I proposed to Don Alvaro that it might be well to buy a ton or more of this dough from the Chieftain, paying him with toys, cloth and glass bottles, and to bake some of it into the golden cake which I had shown him; the rest could be made into dumplings. He would not listen to my suggestion, complaining that it was not Christian food and that the troops were certain to scorn it; however, I invested a set of brass buttons in the purchase of cake for my own use, and stored it in a sea-chest which I had bought at the sale of Miguel Llano’s effects. The only provision that we did take away was almonds; these were of moderate size, very oily, with an unjointed shell and a loose kernel. Each man bought his own supply, some with gifts, others with threats, according to his character.
The food most sought after by our people was pork with roasted chestnuts, but they also took pleasure in sucking the sweet juice of the sugar-cane. The chestnuts were the size of six Spanish ones, with much the same prickly shell and a similar taste; the pork had a good flavour, but only seven or eight hogs were brought for us to eat. The breed was black and fierce, with coarse, grizzled hair, and not confined in styes, but tethered by a hind-leg to a tree. When the assault was made on the village, the Chieftain had given orders that all pigs should be set at liberty lest they fell into our hands. We were now told that the noise of fire-arms had frightened them across the mountain; but the villagers could doubtless have recaptured many more, had they been so minded. Some of our soldiers who went hog-hunting one day, found the woods too thick for sport and came back empty-handed. The natives had this manner of roasting a hog: they flayed, singed and disembowelled him, and wrapped his carcase in a blanket of green palm-leaves; being laid in a pit half-filled with red-hot stones, he was then covered with layers of leaves and a mound of earth and left u
ntil his flesh was tender in every part. Gourds and the turnip-like roots which I had found in the store-house were roasted in the same way.
On the beach outside the village, hauled up on wooden rollers, I saw six long, well-made canoes. Each was hollowed from a single bread-tree, with the addition of bow and stern pieces and a keel; they were decked at each end, the planks being caulked with fibre and pitched with gum. One of them measured thirty paces from end to end, having a sixty-foot mast and seats for forty men, and all its parts were securely lashed together with woven cord; I judged its draught to be close on half a fathom. The outrigger was connected to the canoe by planks, which served as a deck for storing food and trade goods. I was given to understand that the islanders made long voyages in these craft, visiting lands to the south and to the west, and were often away two months or longer; but when I enquired of my native comrade—for I had a comrade too, who had gone to sea in one of these vessels—whether they ever traded with a black, bushy-haired race of archers, he confessed ignorance that any such people existed; from which I concluded that we were still far from our goal. Myn, on the other hand, was told that frequent expeditions were made to the south, where battles were fought against black men who shot arrows; but this may have been said only to please him.
The health, vigour and friendliness of the Marquesan natives are proof that their climate must be very wholesome; we saw neither invalids, cripples, nor hunchbacks. The days were hot, the nights cool, but dewless—indeed, wet clothes left all night in the open were dry before morning; though I do not know whether this would be the case all the year round. Our Spanish climate being less lenient, as is well known, breeds men of a sterner sort: jealous, proud, suspicious, accustomed to labour and hardship, each man keeping one hand on his purse, the other on his weapon. When these people showed us kindness, we suspected them of perfidy; when they came for gifts and we withheld them, they thought ill of us, being themselves always ready to give us all they had; when we asked them to toil for us they declined, because that was not their custom.
The Islands of Unwisdom Page 16