By our skin, our clothes, and the powerful fleet,
Till in a torrent of questions he remarked
Perhaps it was from Turkey we embarked.
63 And he added that he required to see
The books of our laws, commandments, or faith,
To judge if they matched his own
Or were Christian, as he now suspected;
Above all else he examined and noted,
He implored our captain to offer him
Some demonstration of what arms we bore
In the event we found ourselves at war.
64 Our valiant captain replied through one
Well versed in the difficult language:
—‘I will give you, Sir, an account
Of myself, our faith, and the arms we carry.
I am not of that land or that lineage
Of those wretched people from Turkey.
I am a European warrior;
I seek the famous lands of India.
65 ‘My faith is in Him whom all powers,
Temporal and spiritual, obey,
He who created the whole universe,
And all things, living or inert,
Who underwent disgrace and insult,
Suffering unendurable and unjust death,
But who descended from the heavens to earth
To raise us mortals to our heavenly worth.
66 ‘Of this God-Man, the sublime and infinite,
Ours is not a religion of the book,
There being no need to convey on paper
That which subsists in my very soul.
If, as you said, you want to see weapons
I can satisfy this desire of yours;
But view them as a friend, for well I know
You’ll never wish to see them as a foe.’
67 With these words, he ordered the waiting
Soldiers to uncover their arsenal;
Coats of armour, flashing breastplates
Of close-knit mail or laminated,
Shields with their various coats of arms,
Cannon-balls, muskets of well-tempered steel,
Longbows, halberds bristling with spikes,
Quiverfuls of arrows, trusty pikes.
68 The fire bombs were brought, and with them
The sulphur pots so noxious;
But he would not allow Vulcan’s sons*
To ignite their dreadful cannon,
For with people so few and so faint-hearted,
It was no part of valour or breeding
To display what dire force he could rely on,
Or in sheep’s company to act the lion.
69 But now from all the Sheikh was shown,
And all he recorded with a sharp eye,
Suspicion took root in his heart,
And his thoughts became malevolent;
Nothing showed in his face or gestures
As, behind a cheerful mask, he continued
Treating them with gentle condescension,
Until he could act out his true intention.
70 Pilots, the captain now asked of him,
To guide the ships’ course to India;
He promised a generous reward
To anyone who took on the task.
The Sheikh acquiesced, but with such hot
Poison coursing through his veins
He wished, instead of pilots for our way,
To furnish us with death that very day.
71 Such was the fury and the malice
Directed suddenly at the strangers,
As he realized we followed the truths
Revealed us by the Son of David!
It is an eternal conundrum,
Unfathomable by human thought,
That those closest to God will never be
Lacking in some perfidious enemy!
72 At last, with his whole retinue,
The politic Sheikh took leave of the ships
With exaggerated courtesies
And for everyone a two-faced smile.
Their craft cut the narrow
Stretch of Neptune’s domain until,
Danced ashore by an obsequious throng,
The Moor was back where such arts belong.
73 Now from his bright ethereal home
Bacchus, who was born from Jove’s thigh,*
Seeing the Sheikh vexed and offended
By his encounter with the Portuguese,
Began to devise some stratagem
Which would destroy them utterly
And, while this was hardening in his brain,
He mused upon his grievances again:
74 —‘Fate has already settled* what great
Conquests and superfluous renown
Will be won by the Portuguese
Over the warrior peoples of India.
Must I alone, son of the supreme
Father and so abundantly endowed,
Must I stand idle while another’s name,
Puffed up by Fortune, puts my own to shame?
75 ‘Once in the past, the gods allowed
Philip’s precocious boy,* Alexander,
To bully this region so adroitly
Everything passed under his yoke;
Must I be silent while Fate bestows
On so few men such skill and daring
That I, like Macedonia and Rome,
Must yield to Portugal the victor’s palm?
76 ‘It shall not be! Before this captain
Has ventured anywhere, so subtle
A trap will be conjured for him
He’ll never clap eyes on his Orient.
I’ll descend to earth and manipulate
The indignation of the Muslims;
In every undertaking of this type
The time for action’s when the time is ripe.’
77 With these words,* and almost insane
With anger, he plunged to Africa,
Taking human features and travelling
By Cape Corrientes* known of old;
And the better to weave his clever
Plot, he adopted the appearance
Of a Muslim well known in Mozambique,
Mature, wise, and a favourite with the Sheikh;
78 And entering to speak with him, at a time
And hour appropriate to his deception,
He spun the tale that the newcomers
Were brigands and that all along
The coastline where the people
They had pillaged lived, rumour
Ran wild that wherever their pirate ships
Anchored, ‘peace’ was the first word on their lips.
79 —‘Much more is reported,’ he ranted,
‘Of these bloodthirsty Christians.
There’s hardly a sea they have not looted
Burning everything in their sight;
Far away, they conceived this present
Conspiracy against us, in sum,
To steal our goods and trample on our graves,
And take our wives and children as their slaves.
80 ‘I know, however, that at first light,
The captain plans to take on water,
Bringing with him a small army
For a bad conscience makes one wary;
You can easily wait in silent ambush
Secretly with your armed men;
They will come not suspecting any trap
And, to conclude, will fall into your lap.
81 ‘And even if this manœuvre fails
To defeat or dispose of them totally,
I have thought of another contrivance
Which will give you satisfaction.
Send them their pilot, but one
Skilled in acting, and adroit enough
To guide them to some port where they can be
Destroyed, routed, killed, or lost at sea.’
82 As soon as he had spoken, the Sheikh,
Who was experienced in such business,
Hugged his sho
ulders warmly, showing
His gratitude for such advice;
Immediately, he set in motion
Everything necessary for war,
Preparing for the Portuguese such slaughter
The beach would flow with blood instead of water.
83 Meanwhile, to spring his second trap,
He arranged to send to the ships as pilot
A shrewd and experienced Muslim
To whom the affair could be entrusted;
He told him to go with the captain,
Voyaging by such coasts and seaways
That if ambush failed, on some other shore
He would shipwreck and trouble them no more.
84 Apollo’s burning rays had already
Walked the mountain tops of Arabia,
When da Gama and his men prepared
To land to replenish their water.
The men in the boats so bore themselves
As if a plot were already suspected,
As in truth they could easily surmise,
For the heart’s intuition never lies.
85 In fact, the captain had already sent
A message that morning, asking
For the pilot and been answered
Brusquely, which put him on his guard.
For this, and because he knew the risk
Of trusting in a dangerous rival,
He set out well provided, but bold,
With no more men than three boats could hold.
86 Then the Muslims came down to the beach
To prevent us taking on water, some
Armed with shields and assegais, some
With bent bows and poisoned arrows,
Waiting as our soldiers approached.
Many others were hidden in ambush;
And to lull suspicion, as a further ploy,
A group stood out in front as a decoy.
87 All along the white sand beach
The fearsome Muslims were gesticulating
With cowhide shields and glinting spears,
Taunting the mighty Portuguese;
These were far too spirited to endure
Such dogs baring their teeth,
Descending on the beach in such a burst
No one knew afterwards which man was first.
88 As in the bloody bullring a lover,
Proud that his radiant lady is watching,
Doesn’t wait for the bull but confronts him,
Posing, whistling, stamping, and halloing,
But on the instant the terrible beast,
Bellowing, blinded by sheer
Rage, drops his horns in a lightning spurt
Tossing, goring, and trampling him in the dirt,
89 So from our boats the fusillade began
In murderous volleys. Lead balls dealt
Death, the screams were inhuman,
The shocked air boomed and hissed.
Then the Muslims’ courage broke
As their blood congealed with panic;
Those hidden in ambush could be seen to fly,
While those upon the strand were the first to die.
90 The Portuguese were relentless, pursuing
Victory with destruction and death,
Bombarding, burning, and looting
The exposed, unstockaded village.
By now, the Sheikh regretted the skirmish
He had thought to carry off lightly;
Old men and women with their babes lamented,
Cursing war and damning him who sent it.
91 The Muslims shot arrows as they fled,
But uselessly in their fear and haste,
Flinging rocks and sticks and pebbles,
The very weapons of desperation.
Abandoning the island, most
Fled to the mainland in their terror,
Taking refuge in the narrow waterway
Which separates the island in the bay.
92 Some crammed in overloaded dugouts;
Some tried swimming and were swept
Under the breakers, swallowing water,
And were spewed out by the sea in turn.
The repeated cannonade shattered
The brittle boats of these uncivil people,
And so the Portuguese dealt finally
With their small-minded spite and treachery.
93 They returned in victory to the fleet
With the spoils of battle and rich plunder,
And went to take water at their will
Without objection or any resistance.
But the Mohammedans were dismayed,
Their initial hatred being rekindled;
And, harrowed that their losses were so huge,
Found comfort in their second subterfuge.
94 The governor of that abject island
Dispatched envoys to sue for peace,
The Portuguese not knowing under
The flag of truce he was plotting war;
For the promised, but deceitful pilot
With treachery stamped on his heart,
Whose task was to steer them to their death,
Was offered as the pledge of his good faith.
95 The captain was now more than eager
To return to his proper business,
With calm weather and the right winds
For his search for the longed-for India.
He received the pilot sent him
Gladly and, with a politic message
To the Sheikh, thrust the island from his mind,
Spreading his canvas to the monsoon wind.
96 With this leave-taking, the mighty fleet
Ploughed Amphitrite’s* gentle waves,
Escorted by the faithful nereids,
Sweet and delightful companions.
The captain, who had not yet tumbled
To the design the pilot was weaving,
Plied him with fresh questions thick and fast
About India, and all the coasts they passed.
97 But the pilot, fertile in invention
As malevolent Bacchus inspired him,
Plotted death, enslavement, or shipwreck
Before the Portuguese could reach India.
Describing the Indian harbours,
He answered openly all he was asked,
And confident these answers were sincere,
The stalwart people saw no cause for fear.
98 Then, subtly as when Sinon to the Trojans
Sang the praises of the Wooden Horse,
He let slip that close by, on an island,
Lived an ancient race of Christians.
The captain, who was listening intently,
Rejoiced so greatly at this news
He offered there and then a king’s bribe
To conduct us to this lost Christian tribe.*
99 Now what the credulous Christian begged
Was precisely what the pilot sought,
For the island, in truth, was peopled
By Muslims, followers of vile Mohammed.
There he saw his plot maturing
With strength and numbers far
Greater than Mozambique’s, the island’s fame
There being widespread. Kilwa is its name.
100 Joyfully the fleet changed course,
But Venus, the goddess from Cythera,
Seeing them veering from their proper tack
And sailing to unseasonable death,
Could not permit the people she loved
To perish in so remote a place
So summoned opposing winds, to amend
The bearing plotted by their dangerous friend.
101 At this, the astute Muslim, unable
To carry through his first plan.
Devised a second pernicious scheme,
Still constant to his purpose,
Proposing that, since hostile currents
Had balked their forward progress,
There was another island occupied
By Christians and by Muslims side by side.
102 Even with these words he was lying,
Obeying the instructions given him,
For no Christian people dwelt there,
Only those who worshipped the prophet.
The captain, trusting him in everything,
Asked to be guided there instead,
But Venus, restraining them once more
From crossing the bar, the fleet stood off shore.
103 A tiny channel divided the island
From the continent of Africa;
But there could be seen a magnificent
City with many noble edifices
Marking the whole curve of the bay,
A landmark visible for many miles,
And ruled by a king of great antiquity;
Mombasa* it is named, both isle and city.
104 The captain had at last dropped anchor,
And was strangely elated at the prospect
Of meeting the baptized Christians
The false pilot had invented.
Boats came from the shore with greetings
From the king who already knew of them,
For Bacchus had prepared him long before,
Taking the disguise of the other Moor.
105 The welcome they brought was friendly
In form, but poisonous in its matter,
For its intentions were hostile
As the aftermath would reveal.
O great and grave dangers!*
O the vicissitudes of life’s journey!
That wherever a people place their trust,
The little they rely on turns to dust.
106 On the sea, such storms and perils
That death, many times, seemed imminent;
On the land, such battle and intrigue
Such dire, inevitable hardships!
Where may frail humanity shelter
Briefly, in some secure port,
Where the bright heavens cease to vent their rage
On such insects on so small a stage?
Canto Two
1 As the time came for the brilliant star
Which separates the hours to reach
His longed-for and lingering horizon,
Hiding from man his celestial
Fire in the underwater refuge slid
Quietly open by the God of Night,
The Mohammedans were making their way
To the ships, then anchoring outside the bay.
2 In them was one who came entrusted
With further diplomatic menace, saying
—‘Valiant captain, who has split
Neptune’s salty domain in two,
The Sultan who rules this island,
Advised of your coming, is overjoyed;
To receive you is his heart’s desire,
Embrace you, and supply what you require.
3 ‘And because of his profound longing
To greet one whose fame has gone before,
He begs you, have no misgivings,
Enter the bay, you and your fleet;
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 5