The Islands of Unwisdom

by Robert Graves

  Don Alvaro wilfully ignored the dissident spirt ashore, hoping that it would cause the Colonel trouble and humiliation. He felt safe in the Great Cabin under the protection of the ship’s guns, and the standing guard were picked men: should the troops take up arms, he would step ashore as their protector, display the Royal Standard and clap the Colonel in irons. But he had not reckoned with the general hatred felt for the Barretos which inclined most of the malcontents to the Colonel’s side.

  The Colonel, for his part, did nothing. Conscious of his own rectitude and devotion to duty, and careless of the future, he left the General to beat out the forest-fire that his brothers-in-law had mischievously lighted. It was enough that the troops were still steady on parade and worked well under his orders.

  But Pedro Fernandez was convinced that the flames were spreading fast and it greatly troubled him to find even the Vicar standing by, his hands resignedly folded. I told him: ‘It is not Father Juan’s duty to intervene in a matter that concerns military discipline, unless his good offices are sought by both Don Alvaro and the Colonel. While they remain at loggerheads, nothing at all can be done. This is a fever that must reach its crisis before we can hope for improvement.’

  ‘I disagree with that,’ he cried. ‘I undertake to pacify the men in half an hour, if Don Alvaro will but give me leave!’

  ‘In my opinion,’ said I, ‘it can do only harm to pay attention to the grumblings of a few hot-brained fellows. I saw no sign of rebellion when I was ashore yesterday. While they continue to obey their officers…’

  But despite my urgent dissuasions, he went off to the Great Cabin.

  Doña Mariana sat there alone, fanning herself wearily. ‘Where is the General?’ he asked her.

  ‘In the larder,’ she answered. ‘My dear sister is busy proving to him there that we cannot afford to feed more than our immediate family. The sums which he has hitherto deducted every week from salaries or ventures no longer cover the value of the food brought with us, since it cannot be replaced. She says that the priests must henceforth subsist on the endowment of the Church, and that the rest must fend for themselves. Perhaps she will plead for an exception to be made in your case; or, perhaps, she will not. But don’t stand there, cap in hand, man! Here’s a chair; sit down and amuse me for a while until they return. You must have plenty of time on your hands, now that the sails are in the guard-house and you need not trouble your head with the Day’s Work. Tell me something to make me smile; you cannot imagine how bored I have been since my brothers went ashore. Tell me the first thing that comes into your mind!’

  He sat down reluctantly. ‘These are bad times,’ he said. ‘I fear that I am in no mood for jokes and lively trifling. But since you command me…’

  ‘Let us talk about love,’ she said. ‘Love is the most fruitful topic in all nature; how the sparrows used to chatter about it under the eaves of our house at Corunna! And here, half a world away, four-legged bats squeak and fret in the same strain under the mangrove-shade beside the river. Have you noticed the amorous little creatures, hanging head-downwards like black pears from the branches, five hundred at a time? …Tell me, Don Pedro, when did you first fall in love?’

  ‘By your leave, my lady! To confound the love of man with the lechery of bat and sparrow is to dishonour our Creator. But, since you ask me, I have never fallen in love but once in my life: she was far above me in station, the youngest daughter of a Licentiate, and the most virtuous and beautiful woman of all my acquaintance. The Virgin be praised, she returned my affections and her father did not despise my suit; within six months of my declaration we were married, and in course of time a son was born to us, now five years of age. That is all I can tell your ladyship about love.’

  ‘You are fortunate indeed,’ said Doña Mariana. ‘I wish that the bright history of my heart were equally uncheckered—and, I dare say, my sister wishes the same. You cannot conceive, friend, of the distress occasioned to a woman of rank, whose husband lives and who has her reputation to preserve, when without either reason or warning Don Cupid lets fly a barbed arrow and lodges it deep in her heart. What remedy has she? To disclose her passion would be imprudent; to consummate it, disgraceful. Should she make confession to a priest? But to do so would be to present as a mortal sin what is as yet a mere misfortune, to add penance to her pain: no harm is done unless, by word or sign, she acquaints the loved one with her condition, and thus makes him suffer sweetly with her. She must either grieve in silence, slowly burning to death, or rashly give vent to her passion, and burn in everlasting Hell. Picture her torments: there she stands, shifting her weight from foot to foot, not daring to go, unable to stand still. Pity her, fortunate man for whom the path of love has always been spread not with noxious thorns but with wholesome and innocent daisies. As for myself, I thank the Saints that my great loss has been sufficient grief to me: that I have not since been plagued by the pangs of alien and unrequited love.’

  Pedro Fernandez understood well enough that she was not speaking in generalities but acquainting him with Doña Ysabel’s condition. The mingled horror and elation of this discovery, which however he dared not admit as the truth, sent his mind so fast adrift that he could not find a word in answer. Doña Mariana eyed him closely, with a cruel smile.

  He had by no means recovered from the shock when the General entered with Doña Ysabel herself, and it was with difficulty that he recalled the mission upon which he had come. He rose quickly and made his demand, not in the speech he had prepared for the occasion, but with words chosen at random and uttered in an unsteady voice.

  Don Alvaro observed his confusion and, at once suspecting that it proceeded from a bad conscience, cut him short: ‘I wonder, my friend, that you dare come to me with so preposterous a request.’

  The Chief Pilot, recovering the thread of his purpose, asked in what way it could be considered preposterous.

  ‘The troops would never listen to anything you might say in favour of this island or myself,’ he was told. ‘They are determined to follow their own foolish course, in which the Colonel encourages them, and your appeal would only add fuel to the flames. I forbid you to go!’

  Nevertheless, Don Alvaro recalled him later and gave him permission to do as he asked, though on conditions. It is likely that Doña Ysabel had meanwhile enlarged upon the perils of our situation, saying that Pedro Fernandez’s dislike of the Colonel would keep him loyal for the present, and that it would be advantageous if he could convince even a few of the mutineers (as it pleased her to call them) that they had been misled.

  The Chief Pilot, guessing that she had pleaded his cause, prepared to go ashore next morning, with the ardour of a knight who rides to tourney, his mistress’s glove tied to his helmet. I asked leave to witness the proceedings, and this Don Alvaro granted me. The truth was, that I could not bear to stay behind in fear of what might happen to Pedro Fernandez, should he rouse the soldiers’ rage by too ingenuous a summons to loyalty.

  As we stepped ashore, Tomás de Ampuero strode towards us.

  ‘You are bound for Peru with despatches, are you not?’ he asked the Chief Pilot derisively. ‘Would you do me the kindness of taking a message at the same time?’ He turned his back on us and made as if to break wind.

  Next, the Major sidled up, with the face of a man who fears the worst, and muttered: ‘The sky has an ugly look, gentlemen. I dare not think what may happen.’ With him was Captain Corzo who, when Pedro Fernandez told him of his mission, remarked: ‘You are a bold man, but I’m uneasy for your sake. The soldiers have threatened to kill you.’

  However, we did not pay any great attention to either of these officers, knowing them for what they were.

  We arrived at the guard-house, where Pedro Fernandez revealed his business to the Adjutant, who remarked drily: ‘The Colonel will be exceedingly vexed that you have come to address his men, as though he were incapable of controlling them himself. My advice to you is: avoid any encounter with him, take the men out of earshot an
d cut your speeches short—if you can.’

  The rumour soon ran through the camp that the Chief Pilot had brought a message from the Great Cabin, and before long we were surrounded by an excited and curious crowd.

  ‘I have been sent by the General,’ Pedro Fernandez announced in a loud voice. ‘Follow me to the Churchyard, and I will address you there.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he come himself?’ someone shouted.

  He disregarded the question and went on. When we reached the Church porch, he turned, and held up a hand for silence. The soldiers gathered around under the shade of the monstrous ferns that grew there, interspersed with the low, leafy trees which we called yellow-dyes.

  Here is my chronicle of the proceedings, set down the same night. Let it be read as a scene from an unfinished cloak-and-dagger tragedy, entitled The Isles of Unwisdom. I warrant that the Admiral’s famous namesake, Don Lope de Vega Carpio, has written many a less lively one for the Madrid stage.

  SCENE: Before the Church of San Simeon. Enter the CHIEF PILOT, with ANDRÉS SERRANO, Sergeant JAIME GALLARDO, the settlers MIGUEL GERONIMO and MELCHIOR GARCIA, the soldiers SALVADOR ALEMAN, SEBASTIAN LEJIA, FEDERICO SALAS, GIL MOZO, JUAREZ MENDÉS, MATIA PINETO and others.

  THE CHIEF PILOT, one arm akimbo, the other raised oratorically: Gentlemen, I am at your service. Pray air your grievances one at a time, and I will attend to them fairly, as I have been empowered to do.

  A LOUD BABBLE OF VOICES: God damn you! Is it true that you’re off to Callao? What for? You treacherous rogue, do you think there’s one man here trusts you to come back again?

  THE CHIEF PILOT: One at a time, gentlemen; one at a time.

  A VOICE: AS the parrot used to say at the bawdy-house! (Loud laughter.)

  SERGEANT GALLARDO, shouting above the din: A pox on you all! Listen to me! The Chief Pilot is the most honest and well-meaning man in the flotilla, I’ll stake my life on it. But what does that profit us? Listen to me, brave hearts!

  SHOUTS of: Silence for Sergeant Gallardo!

  SERGEANT GALLARDO: If he reaches Peru in safety and gives a fair account of our situation, and asks for help, the Viceroy will laugh in his face. How could he do otherwise, when he learns how this expedition has been bungled? It would need a glib liar—indeed, a very Ananias—to persuade the merchants of Lima to throw good money after bad. Because he is an honest man the Chief Pilot will fail us. He won’t even be able to come back with the empty ship, because the Canon of Panama will distrain upon it for debt. I vote, lads, that the General be warned against sending the San Geronimo to Peru, unless in consort with the San Felipe and the Santa Catalina, and with all of us on board.

  SHOUTS of: Long live Jaime Gallardo! That’s what we all say!

  THE CHIEF PILOT: I thank you, Sergeant, for your good opinion of me. But what is this buzz about a voyage to Peru? The General has not spoken one word about sending me there.

  GIL MOZO, an orderly: A lie! Don Tomás saw the despatch with his own eyes. Ask your fat friend whether he didn’t.

  ANDRÉS SERRANO: Gentlemen, upon my word, Don Tomás has done nothing of the kind; and though the General did consider sending back for help, he soon found this impracticable, and had all the ships’ canvas carried ashore.

  THE CHIEF PILOT: Now that this misunderstanding has been removed, let me hear your grievances.

  MELCHIOR GARCIA, a settler, peevishly: Does your honour imagine that we came here to till the soil? There’s a million acres of good land in Peru, had we wished to turn farmers. But we sold our businesses at a loss to follow General Mendaña to the Isles of Solomon and make our fortunes in the gold-mines there.

  THE CHIEF PILOT, righteously: No, you volunteered to serve God and King Philip, and our declared object has always been to convert the heathen and pacify these islands, not to mine gold. (Boos and catcalls.)

  MELCHIOR GARCIA: That is not to the point. Our obligations are to ourselves, not to the savages, nor is this island one of those mentioned in the King’s orders. The soil is bad and couldn’t be worse. We refuse to stay here, and you may tell the General so. Either take us to the Isles of Solomon, or back to Peru, or else to some other part of the world where there are Christians. (Loud cheers.)

  THE CHIEF PILOT: Why do you say that the soil is bad?

  MELCHIOR GARCIA: It yields but a few wet roots. This is no soil for corn.

  THE CHIEF PILOT: Confess, man, that you never were a farmer! Are you complaining because you cannot harvest today what you sowed yesterday? Don Andrés, do you know this settler? What was his trade when he joined us?

  ANDRÉS SERRANO: He is Melchior Garcia, thirty years of age, unmarried, a native of Lima. I have his record in my book. After his company was disbanded he had no better trade than begging at the street corner; and for charity’s sake the General equipped him as a volunteer. He has left little behind him that he can regret. (Cheers, boos and laughter.)

  THE CHIEF PILOT: I know many more like him, who could not look the New World in the face and have sailed to a still newer one. How do the Peruvians commonly pass their lives, if not in ceaseless struggle for a livelihood? And how many of them manage, even after years of toil, to provide for their old age by hoarding a potful of silver pesos? Confess, gentlemen! At home you were rich in hope only; but here you have a God-given chance to convert that hope into reality. A plot of virgin ground costs you nothing, a trencher of wholesome food is to be had for the asking, and it is but a fortnight’s labour to raise a snug cottage. Work then, and provide for yourselves. One day, when you have banished the wolf of want that has been howling at your doors, you will be free to indulge in such curious pastimes as mining for gold and diving for pearls. One day, but not now. (Ironical cheers.)

  FEDERICO SALAS, a young soldier: No, not now, and not for another twenty years, I’ll be bound. We’ll be old men before we see that day. And meanwhile, there’s not a wine-shop nor a pastry-cook within a thousand leagues.

  A RAUCOUS VOICE, singing: The wine-shops of Lima,

  For soldiers in luck

  Are full of good Malmsey,

  And —————

  (Roars of laughter.)

  THE CHIEF PILOT to FEDERICO: So you expected to find everything ready for you to the last merry detail? A city with churches, inns and shops, and your own house handsomely furnished—the table laid, a cellarful of choice wines and WELCOME in foot-high letters chalked on the door? Is that it? How do you think Toledo, Seville, Rome and the other great cities of the world came to be? They began as a few huts raised by resolute men, whose successors benefited by their labours and blessed their memory. Little by little, stone and tiles replaced wattle and thatch, until the rude beginnings stood crowned with the glory of cathedrals and palaces.

  MIGUEL GERONIMO, an elderly settler: Do not listen to a few lazy rascals, your honour. We all wish to work, but who can till without tools?

  THE CHIEF PILOT: The soil here is loose enough to be worked with wooden spades, until we can send for iron ones.

  GIL MOZO: And I warrant that you’re looking forward to fetching them. When I see you digging your own patch with a wooden spade, I’ll trust you.

  THE CHIEF PILOT: You do me an injustice. All the labour of steering you across unknown seas, of plotting the course, of straining the eyes at night for signs of reefs or rocks was mine alone…

  A BABBLE OF VOICES: But why did you bring us here? These aren’t the islands you were told to find. Take us off again!

  THE CHIEF PILOT: Gentlemen, I beseech you! You are gnawing at an old bone; but here is a new one to try your teeth upon. Know then, that you are asking the impossible. We came here with following winds, and while those persist we cannot return unless we sail many hundreds of leagues northward, across the Line of the Equator, to catch winds of the contrary kind. We have not enough food for so protracted a voyage, even if one man in three were left behind; and for want of water-casks and jars we should die of thirst long before we starved. Besides, the ships are unfit for any such enterprise.
We cannot careen them here, and their rigging is two parts rotten and not to be trusted in more than a capful of wind.

  GIL MOZO: Then we are in irons here! Yet I would as lief drown in a hundred fathoms of salt water, as rot in this fever-hole. For God’s love, take us off at all hazards!

  THE CHIEF PILOT with flashing eyes: That is against the General’s wish, and to oppose him is to be disloyal to His Majesty.

  SALVADOR ALEMAN: Take back those words, sailor! We are not disloyal.

  THE CHIEF PILOT: I shall not take them back. Refusal to work the land seized by the General in the royal name is no less than disloyalty. Seduction of a comrade from his duty is more than disloyalty: it is plain treason.

  SEBASTIAN LEJIA, arquebusier: Tell me, your honour: is it treason to sign a memorial which humbly asks the General to abandon his settlement, and take us where he has been ordered to go?

  THE CHIEF PILOT: If the memorial asks for that, and that only, it is not treasonable. But remember that it was God who lifted the curtain of mist and showed us this island; otherwise, we should have been cast among the reefs. And since He gave it to us, we should be content to remain for a time and sustain ourselves on His bounty.

  SEBASTIAN LEJIA: Yes, for a time! But what then?

  THE CHIEF PILOT: Then the General will decide what is to be done. Meanwhile, I have this message from him: that he intends to search once more for the Santa Ysabel. It is not impossible that she may have reached the Isles of Solomon before us. According to my computations they lie only a few score leagues to the westward.