Famous Discoverers and Explorers of America
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Title: Famous Discoverers and Explorers of America
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FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA
* * * * * *
FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES
Each, one volume, illustrated, $2.00
Except as otherwise noted
BY
CHARLES L. JOHNSTON
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS
FAMOUS SCOUTS
FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS
FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN
FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN
FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA
FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES
First Series $2.50
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES
Second Series $2.50
BY
CHARLES LEE LEWIS
FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS
BY
EDWIN WILDMAN
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY—_First Series_
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY—_Second Series_
THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA or, Lives of Great Americans from the
Revolution to the Monroe Doctrine.
THE BUILDERS OF AMERICA or, Lives of Great Americans from the Monroe
Doctrine to the Civil War.
FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER
(_new revised edition_)
or, Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War to To-day.
BY
TRENTWELL M. WHITE
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY
Third Series $2.50
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY, BOSTON
* * * * * *
[Illustration: AMERIGO VESPUCCI (_see page 45_)]
FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA
Their voyages, battles, and hardships in traversing
and conquering the unknown territories
of a new world
by
CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON
Author of “Famous Scouts,” “Famous Indian Chiefs,”
“Famous Cavalry Leaders,” “Famous Frontiersmen,”
“Famous Privateersmen,” etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration]
The Page Company
Boston Publishers
Copyright, 1917
By The Page Company
All rights reserved
Made in U. S. A.
Fourth Impression, September, 1928
Fifth Impression, March, 1932
The Colonial Press Inc.,
Clinton, Mass.
_Dedicated_
To the Great Brotherhood of the Clergy
_who, with self-sacrifice, devotion, and lack
of personal profit,
have consecrated their lives to
the education and development of the youths
of all English speaking countries_.
PREFACE
_My Dear Boys_:
It has seemed fitting to include in the FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES this
volume upon the discoverers and explorers, not only of North America,
but also of Central and South America.
It has been impossible to include them all in a volume of this
character; but I have selected the most important, and have omitted
such men as Sebastian Cabot, Jacques Cartier, Sir Francis Drake,
Baffin, Verendrye, Robert Gray, Lewis and Clark, Pike, Franklin,
Frémont, and many others.
This is no new subject. The lives and histories of these discoverers
have been written by many another; but I have endeavored to bring
before you a series of pictures of some of the most noted of these men
of daring and grim determination, and, if I have succeeded in painting
the canvas with colors which are agreeable, then, my dear boys, I shall
feel that the moments occupied in the preparation of these pages have
been well spent.
Believe me,
Yours very affectionately,
CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON.
Chevy Chase, Maryland.
August, 1917.
_THE VOICE_
_A voice came from the westward, it whispered a message clear,_
_And the dripping fog banks parted as the clarion tones drew near;_
_It spoke of shores untrodden, and it sang of mountains bold,_
_Of shimmering sands in distant lands which were covered with
glittering gold._
_It sang of hemlock forests, where the moose roamed, and the bear,_
_Where the eider bred near the cascade’s head, and the lucivee had his
lair._
_It praised the rushing water falls, it told of the salmon red,_
_Who swam in the spuming ripples by the rushing river’s head._
_It chanted its praise of the languorous days which lay ’neath the
shimmering sun,_
_Of the birch canoe and the Indian, too, who trapped in the forests
dun._
_Yea, it told of the bars of silver, and it whispered of emeralds
green,_
_Of topaz, sapphire, and amethyst, which shone with a dazzling sheen._
_Of warriors red with feathered head, of buffalo, puma, and deer,_
_Of the coral strand in a palm-tree land, and of dizzying mountains
sheer._
_And the voice grew louder and louder, and it fell upon listening
ears,_
_Of the men who had heard strange music which was moistened with
women’s tears._
_Of the men who loved to wander, of the souls who cared to roam,_
_Whose bed was the hemlock’s branches, who rejoiced in the forest’s
gloom._
_Leif the Lucky, Magellan, deLeon and Cortés bold,_
_Cartier, Drake, and Franklin; Pizarro and Baffin, old;_
_Shackleton, Hudson, Roosevelt; brave Peary and gay Champlain,_
_Frémont, Lewis, Balboa; Verendrye, and the Cabots twain;_
_’Twas the voice that called them onward, ’twas the voice that is
calling still,_
AND THE VOICE WILL CALL ’TILL THE END OF IT ALL, AND THE VOICE HAS A
CONQUERING WILL.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE vii
THE VOICE ix
LEIF ERICSON 1
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS 15
AMERIGO VESPUCCI 43
JUAN PONCE DE LEON 61
VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA 85
HERNANDO CORTÉS 107
FERDINAND MAGELLAN 185
GIOVANNI VERRAZANO 203
FRANCISCO PIZARRO 217
HERNANDO DE SOTO 249
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN 271
HENRY HUDSON 303
PIERRE ESPRIT RADISSON 337
FATHER MARQUETTE 361
ROBERT DE LA SALLE 383
ROBERT EDWIN PEARY 409
EPILOGUE 427
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Amerigo Vespucci (_See page 45_) _Frontispiece_
Leif Ericson 8
The Landing of Columbus 28
Amerigo Vespucci off the coast of Venezuela 48
Juan Ponce de Leon at the Fountain of Youth 80
Balboa taking possession of the Pacific Ocean in the name
of the King of Spain 97
Capture by Cortés of the City of Mexico 178
The Death of Magellan 200
Giovanni Verrazano 208
Execution of the Inca of Peru 245
De Soto in the Florida Wilderness 256
Champlain in the Indian Battle 285
Henry Hudson in New York Harbor 317
Marquette and Joliet discovering the Mississippi River 369
La Salle at the mouth of the Mississippi River 397
Robert Edwin Peary 413
LEIF ERICSON:
THE FIRST EUROPEAN TO EXPLORE, AND
SETTLE IN, AMERICA.
“_From Greenland’s icy mountains; from Iceland’s rocky shore,_
_We sailed the ship which forged ahead and ruddy oarsmen bore;_
_We found the wild grape growing; we scoured the river’s bed,_
_And chased the moose whose horns were broad, whose blood was rich and
red._
_Our axes felled the wild-wood, our spears the Skraelings slew,_
_We sank their round skin-barges as the cutting North Winds blew,_
_Over the wild waves rolling, back to the fiords of home,_
_We safely came to anchor,—but we’ll never cease to roam._”
Saga of the Vikings, 1000 A. D.
FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA.
LEIF ERICSON:
THE FIRST EUROPEAN TO EXPLORE, AND SETTLE IN, AMERICA.
ON the shore of a great fiord, or estuary of the sea, in the
far northern country of Greenland, stood a little boy. He was
sturdy-limbed, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, and he was looking out across
the water at a great high-prowed Viking ship which lay bobbing upon the
waves.
He stood there thinking,—thinking, until, as he gazed enraptured upon
the scene before him, a tall, bearded Norwegian came up behind him. He
smiled upon the little boy, and, laying his hand upon his head, said:
“Little one, what are you dreaming about?”
The youthful Norwegian looked around and also smiled.
“Good Lothair,” he answered, “I am thinking of the time when I shall be
able to sail far to the westward, with the older Vikings, and can have
adventures of mine own.”
The other laughed.
“Ah, ha, that time will not be far distant,” said he, benignly. “You
will wax tough and sinewy in this bracing air and by sailing in these
blue fiords. And then, some day, one of the Vikings will want a stout
fellow to man an oar. He will call upon Leif, little Leif. And I’ll
warrant that little Leif will then be ready.”
“I will be.”
“And would you go far to the westward, to the land of the setting sun?”
“Even so.”
“And would you be willing to risk life and limb amidst ice and snow?”
“I’d be glad to do it.”
Lothair laughed loud and long.
“You are a true Viking, my boy. You are, indeed, one of those whom Thor
has smiled upon and whom the Valkyrias would love to assist in battle.
Keep up your spirit, and, some day, you may be famous,—who knows?”
So saying he walked away, still laughing softly to himself.
And the little boy still kept on thinking, thinking, and looking out
upon the great, blue sea which seemed to beckon to him, to nod to him,
and to sigh: “Come on! Come on! I have marvelous things to reveal to
you, little boy.”
The youthful Viking turned around, went back to his home, and kept on
working and sailing, and fishing, and playing, until a time came when
he had waxed great in both strength and in stature, and, as he looked
at himself in the polished surface of his shield he said: “Ah! Now,
indeed, I am a true Viking. I am ready for great things.”
This little boy was the son of Eric the Red, a strong man, and a bad
man, also. Eric’s father lived in Iceland, whither he had been forced
to fly from Norway, for he had killed a man there and he would himself
have been killed, had he not jumped into a boat, rowed to a Viking
ship, and sailed to the westward. And Eric the Red seems to have
inherited the traits of his father, for he, too, killed another. He
had lent some of his furniture to a neighbor who would not restore it.
Eric, therefore, carried off his goods and the other pursued him. They
met, and hot words passed; so they had a struggle and Eric killed the
fellow. He was thus made an outlaw, so he went sailing away to find
some place where he could live in peace, far from his brother Vikings.
He found a land, where he settled,—and called it Greenland, for, said
he, “other Vikings will come here and settle, also, if I give this
place a good name.”
Eric the Red, had two children, of whom one was called Thorstein, and
the other, Leif. The first developed into a thin youth with black hair
and a sallow complexion, but the second was rosy-cheeked, fair-haired,
blue-eyed, and sturdy-limbed. He was, in fact, the little boy to whom
Lothair spoke as he stood upon the banks of the fiord, gazing far into
the distance, determined, some day, to sail towards the West where he
was certain that adventure and treasure, too, perhaps, were waiting for
him.
One of the men who accompanied Eric, the murderer, to Greenland was
named Herjulf. This bold and daring adventurer had a son named Bjarni,
who roved the seas over, in search of adventure, for many, many years.
Finally, in 986, he came home to Iceland in order to drink the Yuletide
ale with his father. Finding that his parent had gone away, he weighed
anchor and started after him to Greenland, but he encountered foggy
weather, and thus sailed for many days by guess work, without seeing
either the sun or the stars. When, at length, he sighted land, it was a
shore without mountains. He saw, through the misty murk, only a small
height covered with dense woods. So, without stopping in order to make
explorations, he turned his prow to the north and kept on. He knew that
this was not Greenland, and, so we may think it strange that he did not
stop to examine the rugged coastline.
The sky was now fair and a brisk breeze was astern, so, after scudding
along for nine or ten days, Bjarni saw the icy crags of Greenland
looming up before him, and, after some further searching, found his way
to his father’s house. He had more than once sighted a heavily timbered
shore-line, to the west, while steering for home, and, when he told of
it, great curiosity was excited amongst the Norsemen.
Little Leif had now grown to be a man of size and strength. He had made
many a journey to Norway, and, when there, in the year 998, found that
Roman missionary priests were preaching up and down the land, and had
converted the King, Olaf Tryggbesson, who had formerly worshiped the
Gods Thor and Odin. Leif, himself, became a Christian and was baptized,
so, when he returned to Greenland, he took several priests with him,
who converted many of the people. Old Eric the Red, however, preferred
to worship in the way of his fathers, and continued to believe in the
mystical Valhalla, or hall of departed spirits, where the dead Vikings
were supposed to drink huge cups of ale while feasting with their gods.
Upon a bright, warm day in the year 1000 A. D., a great Viking ship
lay calmly upon the waters of the bay before the town of Bratthalid in
Greenland, and on shore all was bustle and confusion. Leif Ericson,
in fact, had determined to sail far to the westward, even as he had
dreamed of doing when a little boy; and so, with thirty staunch
adventurers, he was preparing to load his ship with sufficient
provisions to last for the journey to that strange country of which
Bjarni had brought news. It took several weeks to gather provisions
and men, but at length everything was ready. The sail was hoisted, the
great oaken oars were dipped into the water, and the sharp bow of the
Viking ship was turned toward the open sea. “Huzzah! Huzzah!” shouted
the Norsemen. “Huzzah!”
The Viking ship, which had a huge dragon’s head at the prow, was such
a tiny affair, when compared with the massive ocean liners of to-day,
that one can well imagine how she must have been tossed about by the
great, surging waves; but she kept on and on, ever steering westward,
until a land was discovered which seemed to be filled with flat
stones, so they called it Helluland, or flat-stone land. This was the
Newfoundland of our maps, to-day.
Leaving this behind them, the Vikings kept on steering southward and
westward, until they saw a low-lying and heavily wooded shore. This was
Nova Scotia, and they coasted along it, for many days, occasionally
coming to anchor in one of the deep bays, and heaving overboard their
fishing lines, so as to catch some of the many fish which seemed to
abound in these waters.
They sailed on towards the south, and at last reached a place where a
beautiful river flowed through a sort of an inland lake into the sea.
Many islands were near the mouth of this stream, and, as salmon seemed
to abound in the waters of this blue and clear-flowing estuary of the
Atlantic, Leif decided that this was a good place in which to spend the
winter. So down went the anchor, the Viking ship was moored near the
shore, and the men scrambled to the beach in order to erect huts in
which to spend the cold season. Thus the dream of the little boy, as he
had stood upon the shore of Greenland, years before, had come true, and
Leif had reached a new world, to which he had been led by his daring
and his love of adventure.
You see, that, although it was long supposed that Columbus was the
first white man from Europe to ever set his foot upon the shore of
America, such is not the case.
The real discoverer of America, of whom we have any definite record,
was Bjarni, the son of Herjulf, who, in the midst of fog and murk,
coasted along the shore of Nova Scotia in 986 A. D.
[Illustration: LEIF ERICSON
(_From the statue at Boston, Mass._)]
And the first European to make a settlement upon the shores of the
new world was Leif Ericson, who sailed into that blue, salmon-filled
river which flows “through a lake into the sea.” So, if you look
along the coast of New England, and try to find a river which answers
this description, you will, I think, find but one. This is the river
Charles, which, emptying into the Charles River Basin—a huge lake, if
you wish—flows into the blue Atlantic. And, if you search the shore
upon the Cambridge side near the hospital, you will find, to-day, the
cellars of four houses,—the houses, no doubt, which Leif and his men
erected in the year 1000 A. D.
The Vikings built their huts, caught many salmon, and journeyed inland,
where they found a profusion of wild grapes, so many, in fact, that
they dried a great mass of them, loaded them into the hold, and called
this land Vinland, the Good. They also found a race of people living in
this country, who were ferocious in aspect, with ugly hair, big eyes,
and broad cheeks. They were clad in the skins of the beaver, the lynx
and the fox, and their weapons were bows and arrows, slings, and stone
hatchets. As they screeched dismally when about to attack in battle,
the Vikings called them Skraelings, or Screechers. It is apparent that
the Skraelings were more like the Esquimaux, than like the Indians
found by Columbus.
The Vikings spent a peaceful winter in Vinland and had no difficulty
with the Skraelings, who left them alone. The Norsemen felled a
great many trees and loaded their ship with lumber, with dried fish
and grapes. Spring at last came and the ice and snow melted in the
deep forests, the gray geese began to fly northward, and the robins
chanted a melodious welcome from the budding thickets. The followers
of Leif deserted their huts, clambered aboard their low-lying vessel,
and, singing a song of thanksgiving, turned her prow towards the blue
Atlantic. They coasted past the islands at the harbor-mouth, and,
driven by a stout breeze, were soon careening over the waves upon their
journey to Greenland.
But adventures were not entirely over, for, upon the way home, a dark
spot appeared upon the horizon, and, upon sailing up to it, Leif and
his seamen discovered a boat-load of sailors. These poor fellows had
been out in a large vessel, but she had foundered, and had gone to the
bottom in a squall. The castaways were rescued, were taken aboard the
home-going Viking ship, and were carried along to Bratthalid, where
Leif and his followers received a royal welcome, and great interest was
taken in the story of their adventures. Leif was christened Leif the
Lucky, and by that name he was to be known forever afterwards.
The daring navigator never again sailed to the pine-clad coast of
Vinland, but other Norsemen made the journey and some left their bones
to bleach upon the shores of New England. Thus in 1002, when Eric
the Red died, and Leif the Lucky succeeded to his Earldom, Thorstein
(Leif’s brother) decided to explore the new-found country. So, with
thirty or more men, he sailed to the westward, found the huts which
the first adventurers had erected, and had the pleasure of spending the
winter there. These voyagers stayed here for several years, for, in the
Spring of 1004, while some of the party were exploring, the ship was
driven ashore in a storm, near a ness, or cape. They put a new keel
into their damaged vessel and stuck the old one into the sand, calling
the place Kjalarness, or Keel Cape. The cape was undoubtedly near the
end of Cape Cod.
Thorstein was subsequently slain in a battle with the Skraelings, but
his men returned to Greenland, bringing lumber, dried fish, and many
tales of this wonderful country; so that other Vikings longed to go and
explore. Thus, in the summer of 1011, two ships set sail for Vinland,
one with Leif’s brother and sister, Thorwald and Freydis, and a crew
of thirty men; the other with two brothers, Helgi and Finnibogi, and a
crew of thirty-five. There were also a number of women.
Helgi and Finnibogi were the first to arrive at the huts which Leif had
constructed, and had taken possession of them, when Freydis, arriving
soon afterwards, ordered them to leave. Bad blood arose, and Freydis
one day complained that Helgi had given her evil words and had struck
her. She told Thorwald that he should avenge this insult, and taunted
him so mercilessly, that, unable to bear her jeering words any longer,
he was aroused to a deed of blood. Surrounded by his followers, he
made a night attack upon the huts of Helgi and Finnibogi, seized and
bound all the occupants, and killed them with cold steel. The peaceful
shores of the river Charles witnessed such a murder as has never
occurred again.
In 1012 the survivors sailed for Greenland in the vessel of the
murdered brothers, which was the larger of the two. The evil woman,
Freydis, who had caused all this trouble, pretended that the other
party had been left in Vinland, and that ships had merely been
exchanged. She threatened her men, that, if any told on her, they would
be murdered, but words were let fall which came to the ears of Leif the
Lucky. Three of those who had just returned were put to the torture,
until they told the whole story of murder and death in the peaceful
country of Vinland.
Leif was greatly affected by the news, but said with great show of
magnanimity: “I have no heart to punish my wicked sister Freydis as
she deserves. But this I do say to Freydis and Thorwald,—that their
posterity will never thrive.”
“And”—says an old Viking—“so it went that no one thought anything but
evil of them from that time on.”
This is the last that we hear of Leif the Lucky. That little
rosy-cheeked boy, who dreamed that one day he would be a great
adventurer, had accomplished his purpose. He had found a new country,
he had lived to see it explored by other Vikings, and he had opened the
eyes of Europeans to the fact that, far away there was a land which was
richer in furs and in timber than anything which they had about them.
The citizens of Boston, Massachusetts, have erected a bronze statue to
this navigator, upon Commonwealth Avenue; where, with hand shading
his keen eyes, the staunch Norwegian is going out upon the Charles
River;—that river, upon the banks of which in the year 1000 A. D.,
he and his followers spent a peaceful winter in the land of the
Skraelings, the beaver, the bear, and the pink-fleshed salmon. Skoal,
then, to Leif the Lucky! And remember that it was he, and not Columbus,
who first trod upon the shores of America as an adventurer from the
European world.
VINLAND
’Neath the scent of the green hemlock forests, near the sands of the
storm-driven sea,
Lies a land which is good, filled with balsamy wood, and a voice there
is calling to me;
There the grapes grow in reddening clusters, there the salmon jump
clear of the falls,
And in crystalline splendor, the moon, in November, shines bright, as
the lynx caterwauls.
From Moosehead the wild loon is screaming, from Rangely the trout
jumps at play;
And from Kathadyn’s bold peak, comes the osprey’s fierce shriek, while
the brown bear creeps near to its prey.
Oh! that is the land for the Vikings; yea, that is the kingdom of
rest;
In the rude deer-skin boats, the warrior gloats, as the strangers
press on to the West.
There is thunder for Thor and for Odin; there is silver for Tyr and
Brogé,
In Jotunheim’s palace, there is envy and malice; but nothing but love
far away:
Come, Vikings, hoist up your rude anchors! Come, seamen, row hard, as
ye should!
And steer to the West, where there’s peace and there’s rest; steer
straightway to Vinland the Good.
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS:
RE-DISCOVERER OF AMERICA, WHO GAVE
A NEW CONTINENT TO THE WORLD.
(1436-1506)
_Great man, whose courage led you o’er_
_The ocean’s unknown length,_
_A thousand voices thankfully_
_Proclaim your power and strength._
_The treasures of the tropic isles,_
_You found, but failed to gain._
_The honor that was due, was lost,_
_You saw your subjects slain._
_Your plans for empire sailed away,_
_Undone by other wills;_
_And left but glorious memories,_
_Which every seaman thrills._
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS:
RE-DISCOVERER OF AMERICA, WHO GAVE A NEW CONTINENT TO THE WORLD.
(1436-1506)
THE good and genial friar Juan Perez was working, one day, in front
of the convent of La Rabida, which had been dedicated to Santa Maria
de Rabida, near the pleasant city of Palos, in Spain. It was a lonely
place, built upon beetling cliffs which overhung the blue ocean. The
friar, with his brown cassock tucked up around his fat legs, was busily
engaged in hoeing some beans, when he saw a man standing at the little
wicket gate which was between himself and the roadway. The man was
thin, care-worn, and cadaverous-looking. His hair was quite gray and he
held a small boy by the hand.
“Kind priest,” said he, “I am faint with hunger.”
The good friar dropped his hoe and stood there smiling; for he had a
warm heart, and the little boy, whom the stranger held by the hand, was
very wistful.
“In God’s name, my poor fellow,” said Juan Perez, “come into the
convent with me, and I will give you all that you wish, for I see that
you are faint with hunger. And the little boy is surely very ill.”
So the white-haired man and the little boy went into the convent
of Santa Maria de Rabida, and there the priest fell into a long
conversation with this traveler. He found out that the wanderer was
named Christopher Columbus and that he had been born in Genoa, in
Italy. The little boy was his son, Ferdinand.
The priest was a man of great learning and had been confessor to the
Queen of Spain. He soon perceived that this Christopher Columbus was a
man of considerable learning, also, and found out that he had been a
sailor ever since he had been a boy of fourteen. Charmed and delighted
with the conversation of this penniless mariner, he asked him to remain
as a guest at the convent, for he saw that, within the lean body of
this white-haired sailor, burned a spirit of adventure which was like a
beacon light.
“Had I the money, the ships, and the men,” said Columbus, “I could
discover a new country lying far to the west. But, you see, I am a
pauper.”
“Yes,” replied the good priest. “But I have powerful friends who
have both money and ships. These will doubtless help you in your
contemplated voyage. Stay with me for a few days. I will call them
hither, so that you can discuss this matter with them.”
Columbus was glad to have this prelate listen to his schemes for
sailing far to the westward, for he had been endeavoring, for a long
time, to get some one to give him the necessary financial assistance,
so that he could fit out ships both with provisions and with men. In
a day or two a physician arrived. He was a learned fellow, and his
name was Garcia Fernandez. He was accompanied by a wealthy navigator,
called Martin Alonzo Pinzon, who listened to the schemes of Columbus
with great enthusiasm.
“I, myself, will lend you money for this voyage westward,” said he.
“And I will go in person upon this hazardous undertaking.”
The good priest, Juan Perez, had become most enthusiastic over the
scheme.
“Wait until I write to our gracious Queen Isabella,” said he. “She, I
know, will aid you in your contemplated journey. Be of good cheer, for
she is the best of sovereigns, and cannot allow a Frenchman to have the
honor of any discoveries in the West.”
Christopher Columbus was quite willing to have this done, for he was
sure that, could he but gain access to the ear of the great Queen, she,
herself would see the righteousness of his cause and aid and abet in
that which filled him with zeal and enthusiasm. So he waited patiently
at the convent while a letter was dispatched to the kind-hearted
Isabella, carried to the court by one Sebastian Rodriguez, a pilot
of Lepe, and a man of considerable prominence. The Queen was at the
military camp of Santa Fé, where she was directing her troops against
the city of Granada, which was held by the Moors.
Fourteen days went by, and, at last, Rodriquez returned to the heights
of Palos.
“The Queen is much interested in your mariner friend, Columbus,” said
he to Juan Perez. “She wishes greatly to add to the glory of Spain, and
requests that you allow this sailor to travel to her military camp.
But first she wishes to talk with you, good priest.”
The friar was delighted. Quickly saddling his mule, he was soon
upon his way to Santa Fé, where he was received with kindness and
consideration. The Queen had a friend and companion called the
Marchioness Moya who urged her to give aid to Columbus and thus bring
much renown and glory both to herself and Spain. “This fellow has a
great idea,” she said. “Surely you will allow him, in the name of
Spain, to find out what lies far to the westward.”
Isabella was feeling particularly happy, just then, for her troops had
nearly captured the city of Granada and the hated Moors were about to
be driven from the soil of Spain. So she gave a great deal of money
to the priest from Palos, in order that Christopher Columbus could
buy a mule and sufficient clothing to appear at court. With smiles of
satisfaction the good friar returned to the convent at La Rabida and
the first link in the chain which led to the discovery of the West
Indies by those of white complexion, had been forged.
The time had come when the schemes of western exploration, which for
years had lain dormant in the breast of this penniless man from Genoa,
were about to be put into execution. Columbus was now light-hearted,
even merry, and, leaving his little son to the care of the good monks
of Palos, he mounted a mule and journeyed to Santa Fé, accompanied by
his friend Juan Perez.
It was a propitious moment. The Moorish leader had just handed over
the keys of the city of Granada to Queen Isabella, who, mounted
upon her horse and surrounded by a retinue of ladies-in-waiting and
courtiers, joyfully received the keys, as evidence that the Moors were
at last driven from the soil of Spain. Columbus soon was admitted to
her presence and there told of his desire to sail westward toward the
setting sun.
“But,” said he, “if this voyage is a success, I must be made Admiral
and Viceroy over the countries which I discover, and must also receive
one-tenth of the revenues which come from these lands, either from
trade or from agriculture.”
These terms did not suit the Queen’s counselors.
“It would be degrading to exalt an ordinary man to such high position,”
said Talavera, the Queen’s foremost advisor. “The demands of this
threadbare navigator are absurd.”
More moderate terms were offered to Columbus, but he declined them.
“Good-by, Your Majesty,” said he. “I will go to France, where the King
will perhaps give me more advantageous offerings than you care to
present.”
So the good man mounted his mule—the very one which the Queen had
presented him with—but he did not seem to mind using it, and, turning
his back on Santa Fé, and the convent of La Rabida, he started for the
Pyrenees Mountains in order to journey to France.
As soon as he had gone the Queen began to feel sorry that she had
allowed him to depart. Her friends gathered around her and had a good
deal to say.
“What an opportunity you are losing to enhance the glory of Spain,”
said several. “What a chance to make your own name forever great. If I
were you, I would call this navigator back to court before he arrives
upon the soil of France.”
Her husband, King Ferdinand, looked coldly upon the project, for his
treasury had been exhausted by the fighting with the Moors and he did
not wish to spend any more money, just then. But the Queen had many
jewels which she could pledge in order to raise money for ships and for
supplies.
“Ferdinand,” said she to her husband, “if you do not care to undertake
this enterprise for the glory of the crown of Castile, I myself, will
do so, and I will give all of my jewels as security for a loan to the
navigator Columbus.”
A courier was sent post haste after the sailor from Genoa, who was then
ambling along upon his mule and was crossing the bridge of Pinos, some
six miles from Granada.
“The Queen has changed her mind towards you,” said the courier who had
been sent to find the poor navigator. “Come back! You will now have
funds with which to go upon your journey.”
Columbus hesitated a moment, for he feared that this was a lie, but,
convinced of the truth of the statement, he turned about and whipped up
his mule. They trotted along joyfully towards Santa Fé.
The Queen was now in a pleasant humor. Columbus was given all that he
had asked for, but he was required to bear one-eighth of the expense of
the journey. Papers to this effect were drawn up and signed on April
the seventeenth, 1492, and, a month later, the joyful navigator set
out for Palos in order to get ready the ships and provisions for the
long-hoped-for voyage of discovery.
By the terms of the agreement between himself and the King and Queen
he was to be called Viceroy and Governor of the new provinces which he
wished to conquer in the rich territories of Asia, the country which
he thought to be in the far west. He was to receive one-tenth of the
pearls, precious stones, gold, silver, spices, and merchandise of
whatever kind, which might be taken by his followers in the kingdoms
which he expected to take possession of. Good terms these! Let us see
how he fared!
Three caravels were now equipped for the journey at the port of Palos.
It was difficult to find sailors to man them with. All were frightened
at the enterprise and shuddered when they thought of a long sail into
the unknown West. But the King said that he would pardon all those
who had criminal charges hanging over them, should they join the
expedition. In this way a sufficient number of sailors were secured.
The three ships were called the _Gallega_, the _Pinta_, and the _Nina_.
The first was to be the flagship of Columbus, so he changed her name to
the _Santa Maria_, as he was of a religious turn of mind. The _Pinta_
was commanded by Martin Pinzon, and the _Nina_ by his two brothers,
Francis and Vincent.
On Friday, August 30th, 1492, the caravels headed out to sea and
started upon this voyage of discovery. One hundred and twenty sailors
had been secured, most of them with criminal records, so it was not to
be expected that the Admiral, as Columbus was now called, would have an
easy time with them. Some, in fact, were so anxious not to go that they
purposely unshipped the rudder of the _Pinta_, when only a day from
port, and the vessel had to be steered for the Canary Isles in order to
repair the damage. Finally, after a three weeks’ delay, during which
another rudder was made, the expedition again hoisted canvas and headed
for the blue horizon of the west. The hearts of the Spanish sailors now
failed them and many cried like little children, for they were fearful
of what lay before them; some, indeed, even thinking that they would
come to a great hole and fall in. As for Columbus, he tried to comfort
them with the prospect of gold and precious stones in India and Cathay
which he was sure that they would discover.
“On, on, my men,” said he. “On, and let us all be enriched by the
treasures which we will soon come upon!”
But the ignorant sailors were constantly anxious and distrustful.
The bellying sails carried the three caravels ever to the westward.
They sailed through vast masses of sea-weed on which small fish and
crabs were hanging, and the sailors feared that they would be stranded
upon this mass of vegetation. But when they threw lines into the
water these did not touch the bottom, so they knew that they could go
forward. The three vessels, in fact, were plowing through the Sargossa
Sea, eight hundred miles from the Canary Isles. This is a mass of
tangled sea-weed over two miles in depth, so it is no wonder that the
lines did not touch anything when they let them down.
Now birds began to fly around the caravels, such as gannets and
sea-swallows.
“Land must surely be near,” cried many. “We have now been six weeks
upon the water and Asia must certainly be before us.”
But, in spite of the birds and the floating sea-weed, the boats kept on
and on and still no land came to view.
Columbus, himself, never lost his confidence in the ultimate success of
the journey.
“My men,” said he, “land will eventually be sighted. You must bolster
up your hearts and have great courage, for we will soon view the coast
of Asia, where lives the mighty Khan.”
And, each evening, he made the sailors chant a hymn to the Virgin.
Cheered by the words of this heroic man, the Spaniards gained renewed
hope and eagerly scanned the horizon for some signs of palm trees or
tropic vegetation.
Before the expedition had set out, King Ferdinand had promised a reward
of 10,000 maravédis, or 400 pounds sterling ($2,000), to the sailor
who first discovered land. So, do you wonder that the mariners eagerly
scanned the blue distance for a dark line of earth!
As the ships drowsed along with a gentle easterly wind in their rear,
numerous large birds, petrels, man-of-war birds and damiers, flying in
couples, were a sign that land must certainly be near, for otherwise
how could these feathered sea-farers breed and lay their eggs? On, on,
the mariners drifted, the sailors eager, depressed, even mutinous, but
the courage of Columbus never wavered.
The month of October had now arrived and the Admiral announced to
his crews that the ships had traveled 1,272 miles to the westward.
In reality, they had sailed 2,100 miles; but Columbus hid the truth
from his followers, for he knew them to be on the point of mutiny,
and, should they learn how far they were from home, they would wish to
return. On October the seventh the crews were much excited by hearing
several musketry discharges from the _Nina_, the commander of which
thought that he had discovered land. But this was an illusion; what
he took to be land was but a patch of sea-weed, bobbing on the glassy
waves.
A number of parroquets went flying by in a southwesterly direction,
and, thinking that they were doubtless winging their way towards their
homes, the Admiral was requested to steer more towards the south. This
he did, and it is well that he so traveled, for, had the vessels kept
due westward, they would doubtless have run aground upon the great
Bahama Bank and would have been destroyed.
But why did not land appear?
Each evening the sun dipped down behind an interminable horizon of
water. Sea-weed floated past, birds flew around upon every side, and
still no land came to view. The Spaniards began to murmur loudly
against Columbus.
“He is a Genoese, a foreigner,” said some. “What does he care for
Spaniards! He has enticed us from our own country only to drown us all.
One thrust of a poniard and he will be out of the way forever!”
The Admiral heard of these remarks and knew that his sailors plotted
his destruction, but his spirit never faltered, and, as the men still
worked the ships, he kept courageously onward.
The eleventh of October had now come, and, as the bold navigator was
looking over the side of the _Santa Maria_, he noticed a reed, still
green, floating upon the top of a wave. His heart beat faster, for
he realized that land must certainly be in the offing. Almost at the
same time the men on board the _Nina_ perceived the branch of a thorny
tree, covered with blossoms, which bobbed upon the sprawling waves.
All rejoiced exceedingly, for they knew that the coast of some strange
country must be near. Night fell over the sea, and Columbus took up
his position on the foremost part of his vessel, where he could watch
until morning. About ten o’clock he thought that he saw a light in
the distance and called to a sailor, Pedro Guitierrez, a chamberlain
in the King’s service, who confirmed it. Once or twice, after this,
the Admiral again saw the light, which looked as if some person were
carrying a flambeau on shore, or in a boat, tossed by the waves.
Columbus spent a restless night. When morning broke, a sailor called
Rodrigo de Triana, saw land from the deck of the _Pinta_, and a thrill
of joy and thanksgiving ran through every heart. It was only two miles
away, and the vessels quickly headed towards the low-lying shore.
Every one eagerly crowded forward, with shouts and cries of joy, as the
three caravels drew nearer and nearer to the sandy beach. The vessels
anchored, and, crowding into the boats, Columbus, with his followers,
rowed towards the breaking combers. All were eager to set foot upon the
new-found territory.
Columbus had on a scarlet coat; and in one hand he held a cross, in
the other a sword. When he reached the beach he knelt upon one knee
and kissed the soil, while one of his followers held over his head the
royal banner of gold, embroidered with crowns and with an F and I, the
initials of Kind Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. He gave thanks to God;
while all his crew of malcontents joined him in singing the Te Deum.
His sailors gathered about him, embracing him with fervor, and begging
his forgiveness for their mutinous spirit.
At this moment some naked savages appeared from behind the tropic
foliage and came timidly towards the Spaniards. None of the men
appeared to be over thirty years of age, and the women, too, were
young. They were well made, their figures handsome, and their faces
agreeable. Their hair, as coarse as the tail of a horse, hung down in
front as far as their eyebrows, while behind it formed a long mass
which was apparently never cut.
As they approached, the Spaniards greeted them kindly, and, when the
voyageurs showed them their swords, the poor natives seized them in
their hands so that they cut their fingers.
[Illustration: THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS]
The Spaniards roamed about for some time, glad indeed to stretch their
legs, and then jumped into their long boats, in order to go back to the
ships. Several of the natives plunged into the water and swam after
them, crying out with apparent pleasure. Next day they came in crowds
around the vessels, paddling themselves in enormous canoes shaped from
the trunks of trees and guided by means of broad paddles, like a snow
shovel. Several of the islanders wore little plates of gold hanging
from their nostrils, which interested the Spaniards more than anything
else. “Where did you get this?” they signaled to the chattering
Indians. The natives pointed towards the south, when they understood
what the mariners wished to know, and this made the voyageurs eager to
get away, for gold was ever that which has lured the Spaniard onward.
Columbus named the island San Salvador, and believed that he had
arrived upon the coast of Asia. The place was beautiful. Gray and
yellow parroquets chattered and screamed from the trees, and brilliant
tropic birds fluttered before them, as the Spaniards explored the
interior. A small lake was in the center of the island, but there
was no sign of gold or of gold mines. So the voyageurs turned away,
disgusted, and determined to sail southward where the natives told them
was a mighty monarch who possessed great vessels of gold, and immense
riches.
The next morning, at day-break, Columbus gave orders to have the ships
prepared for sea and all set sail towards the south, coasting along
the western side of the island, while the natives, running down to the
shore, offered the Spaniards water and cassava bread, made from the
root of a plant called the “yucca.” The Admiral landed upon the coast
at different points and carried off some of the natives, so that he
might exhibit them in Spain. Poor, ignorant islanders! Little did they
guess that soon the white-skinned strangers would tear them from their
country in order to sell them as slaves.
The Spaniards were really among the West Indies; but Columbus still had
the idea that he was near China, the home of the mighty Khan, stories
of whose wealth and possessions had already been brought to Spain. So,
after the three caravels had left the island of Cuba, two emissaries
were dispatched into the interior in order to take presents to the
Khan. They soon returned, telling of the peaceful natives, beautiful
groves of palm trees, but of no signs of the Asiatic potentate. They
reported that both the native men and women smoked tobacco by means
of a forked pipe, and that they had cotton houses made in the form of
tents.
The crews now began to grow restless. They had come to find Asia or
India, where were great hoards of gold. Instead of this they had found
merely some tropic islands, populated by a race of naked savages who
had no great treasures and knew nothing of gold mines. The Admiral
sailed onward and kept discovering other islands, in all of which he
found many articles of gold, but no particularly great city or town
with riches and treasure. And there were no signs of the mighty Khan of
Asia.
While exploring the coast of an island called Hayti, a young chief
visited the caravels, attended by two hundred subjects. He spoke
little, but gave the Admiral a curious belt and two pieces of gold, for
which Columbus, in return, presented him with a piece of cloth, several
amber beads, colored shoes, and a flask of orange water. In the evening
the native was sent on shore with great ceremony and a salute was fired
in his honor, which both surprised and interested him.
A short time after this a still greater chief, named Guacanagari,
sent a messenger to the Admiral requesting him to come to his part of
the island. The ships were therefore turned in the direction of this
chief’s home, and had sailed within a mile of his residence, when the
_Santa Maria_ ran upon a sand bank and quickly went to pieces. When
news of this was brought to the native ruler, he sent his followers to
unload the vessel and guard the contents, and his family to cheer the
Spanish navigator and to assure him that everything which he possessed
was at his disposal. All of the Spaniards went on board the _Nina_ and
were later entertained by the prince. So well, indeed, did Columbus
like this island that he determined to erect a fort upon the coast,
and to leave there a certain number of men with a year’s provisions of
bread, wine, and seed, also the long boat of the _Santa Maria_.
As a matter of fact the Spaniards were now eager to return to Spain,
for, although they had discovered a new territory, they had not found
the great quantities of gold. As for the mighty Khan, he was certainly
not in the vicinity of these tropic isles, with their green paroquets
screaming from the waving branches of the palm trees, and their naked
savages with soft voices and hollowed canoes. The majority of the
seamen thought that they had done quite sufficient exploring and were
certainly ready to return to the bullfights and the crooked streets of
old Seville.
“Back to Spain,” they said to Columbus. “Back to Spain and let other
adventurers come here if they wish. We have found the way for them. Let
them explore and develop this territory.”
Columbus was quite ready to set sail across the Atlantic, for he had
found a new country for the Spanish Crown, and had added many square
miles of territory to the possessions of King Ferdinand and Queen
Isabella. It was now the month of January; the skies were blue and
the weather was balmy; so all seemed propitious for a safe and speedy
passage. Leaving thirty-nine men to garrison a fortress which he
ordered to be constructed, and to search for gold until he could come
back again from Spain, and naming one Rodrigo de Escovedo as their
commander, the Admiral boarded the _Nina_, and, after fighting a mimic
sham battle with his men, in order to amuse the Indians, he turned the
prow of the little vessel toward the rising sun. The _Pinta_, under the
command of Martin Pinzon, had been cruising to the south for some days;
but she now returned, with the news that, although the natives had told
of a great island to the south where there was much gold, none existed.
The sailors were much distressed in mind, for they had certainly
expected to find a quantity of gold and treasure in this tropic country.
It was now the seventh day of January and the boats lay to, in order
to stop a leak which had sprung in the hold of the _Nina_. Columbus
profited by the delay and explored a wide river which flowed from the
base of a high mountain, called Monti Christi by some of the crew. The
Admiral found the banks of this stream were full of gold-dust—so much,
in fact, that he named it the Golden River. In spite of this discovery
the Spanish sailors were still anxious to return and began to murmur
against the authority of Columbus. Thus, on the ninth day of January,
the two caravels set sail, and, steering towards the southeast, skirted
the coast, en route for Spain.
As they swung lazily along, the natives sometimes followed them in
their canoes. One day they began to shoot at the sailors with their
arrows, so that discharge of musketry had to be resorted to, in order
to drive them away. Two or three of the islanders were killed in this
little affair, and thus, for the first time, the blood of an Indian
flowed beneath the hand of a European.
Four of the natives were captured and taken on board so that they might
be exhibited in Spain. They went unwillingly, but, when they endeavored
to escape, were bound to the masts and were forced to join the Spanish
adventurers. So, cruel even in this first expedition to the new world,
just as they were ever afterwards, the Spanish navigators plowed
eastward towards the land of Ferdinand and Isabella. The passage proved
to be a quick one until the twelfth day of February, when the vessels
encountered a fearful storm lasting three days.
The little caravels with their three-cornered sails were slapped around
on the surging billows until all thought that they were lost, and the
sailors swore on bended knee that they would go and pray in their
shirts, and with naked feet, at the monastery of our Lady of Loretto,
if a Kindly Heaven would only put an end to this fearful raging of the
waters. Columbus seems to have given up all hope of ever reaching land,
for he wrote out a description of his voyages, placed it inside a cask,
and hurled it into the sea. This included a request that whoever should
find this document would forward it to the King of Spain.
Luck, however, was with him, and the storm at length abated to such a
degree that the two caravels cast anchor at the island of St. Mary,
one of the Azores. The crew went ashore, and were immediately thrown
into prison; but, after a period of five days, were allowed to leave by
their Portuguese jailors. Again the two caravels headed for Spain, but
again the winds blew vigorously, so that the _Pinta_ was driven into
the Bay of Biscay and the _Nina_ had to take refuge at the mouth of the
Tagus, in Portugal.
Here the Portuguese welcomed the Admiral in a kindly fashion, but he
was anxious to return to Spain, and, as soon as the weather would
permit, the _Nina_ again set sail. Finally, on the fifteenth day of
March, after seven months of navigation, she cast anchor at the port
of Palos, that little harbor from which the man with a great idea had
sailed with a half-hearted and distrusting crew.
Columbus had guessed correctly. A new land did lie far to the westward
across the blue Atlantic, and it was a land where was gold, that which
every Spaniard prized the most. The Genoese mariner had discovered the
islands of San Salvador, Conception, Great Exuma, Long Island, the
Mucaras, Cuba, and San Domingo.
The first man to give him a welcoming pat on the back was the good old
friar Juan Perez.
“You have done well, my good Columbus,” said he. “How glad I am that
I introduced you to the gracious Queen Isabella. You have indeed
fulfilled the dreams that you dreamed in the convent of La Rabida.”
Ferdinand and Isabella were then at Barcelona, and, hearing of the
safe return of Columbus, a message was immediately dispatched to ask
him to come at once to court. The Admiral landed, offered thanks to
God for preserving him in all his trials, and, taking with him the
Indian captives, started on his journey to the residence of his King.
From all parts of the country the Spanish people ran to look at him as
he passed. They threw their hats in their air, shouting: “Long live
Columbus! Long live the discoverer of new countries! All honor to the
Admiral!” He was preceded by a troop of cavalry and a band of music
when he entered Barcelona, and flowers were strewn in his pathway.
Ferdinand and Isabella received him with great pomp at the Deputation.
After hearing his story, told by him with graphic words, all knelt and
chanted the Te Deum. Christopher Columbus was then ennobled by letters
patent, and the King granted him a coat of arms bearing the device:
“To Castile and Leon, Columbus gives a New World.”
The fame of the poor navigator rang throughout all the then civilized
world; the Indians were baptized in the presence of the whole court;
and all tongues gave praise to this poor and unknown sailor who had
dreamed a dream of conquest which had come true.
Strength of purpose and strength of will had won the day. Had the
Genoese mariner given in to discouragement when his half-criminal
sailors grew mutinous and wished to return to Spain after they had
passed the Sargossa Sea, to some one else would have belonged the honor
of the discovery of the West Indies. Had he not used a firm hand in
dealing with them, they would have marooned him on one of the islands
which he discovered and would have left him there to die. Had he not
been sure that he would find what he was after, Queen Isabella would
not have aided him to glory and renown. Great and valiant Sailor, you
should indeed be remembered with reverence, for you knew how to triumph
over doubt and discouragement and your faith was sublime! All honor
then to Christopher Columbus!
* * * * *
The remaining adventures of this gallant soul can be briefly narrated.
Upon a second voyage to the West Indies he found the men whom he had
left behind him had all been murdered by the Indians. After Columbus
had sailed to Spain the Spaniards had stolen some of the Indian women
and had consequently stirred up the wrath of the great chief who lived
in the interior of the island of Hayti, where they had been instructed
to build a fort and live until the return of their companions. A row
of graves under the swaying palm trees showed where once had been
thirty-nine adventurous souls from Palos in Spain.
The Spaniards came over in numbers after this expedition, but, although
they founded a city and attempted to settle in the new world, there
were continual dissensions with the natives; fights; ambuscades;
massacres. The men from Castile were lazy; greedy for gold; cruel to
the natives; and treated them brutally when the poor Indians could not
furnish them with the glittering metal which they so keenly desired.
Then the more rapacious ones turned on Columbus himself, threw him
in irons on one occasion, and continually derided him to the King of
Spain, who, because the Indies did not produce the revenues which he
had expected them to, turned coldly upon the mariner from Palos, and
rather took the part of these malcontents against him. Like all persons
who reach a certain pinnacle of greatness, Columbus could not remain a
popular idol, for all men are human and he had the ambitions of others
to contend with. There were fights with the natives; fights among the
Colonists themselves; fights with the malaria, the yellow fever, and
with other diseases.
Columbus himself fared badly. After the death of good Queen Isabella,
Ferdinand would not aid him in the least. He had saved no money, after
all these adventures, and, as his life drew to a close, had to live by
borrowing. He did not even own a home in Spain, and had to reside at
Inns and at boarding houses. Alone, neglected, miserable, poor, he
finally passed to another and better world, on May the twentieth 1500.
He was seventy years of age.
Buried in the convent of St. Francisco, at Valladolid, Spain, his body
was removed to the monastery of Las Cuevas at Seville, and, still
later, to the cathedral of San Domingo at Hispaniola. But again it was
taken up, and transported by vessel to Havana, Cuba, that rich tropic
isle which the great navigator himself had discovered. Here to-day it
is lying, and the sad spirit of this strange man of destiny hovers over
the richest of all the possessions which Spain held in the West Indies,
until wrested from her feeble grasp by the people of the United States
in the year 1898, and magnanimously presented to the Cuban people
themselves, to govern as they wished.
Could the poor old mariner, as he lay dying at Valladolid, have but
looked forward into the centuries and seen the New World which he had
discovered, he would have indeed been well satisfied. Had he known that
a great Exposition would have been held to his memory and fame, and
could he have guessed that the children of the civilized world would
ever afterwards be taught the history of his life, of his perseverance,
his courage, and his faith, he would indeed have been cheered in those
last cheerless and poverty-stricken days.
In the career of this poor Italian dreamer, studying in every moment of
leisure, asking assistance year after year from crowned heads until he
was fifty-six years of age, in order that he might make his immortal
discoveries, is a lesson to all who feel that their lives have not
been perhaps worth while as they near middle age. The lesson is:—keep
on trying to win, and, even though you may not be appreciated during
your lifetime, history will always give you a proper niche in the
temple of fame. And do not believe that youth is the only time for
adventurous discoveries. Columbus did not sail upon his epoch-making
journey towards the West until after he had reached his fifty-sixth
year. Middle age and perseverance, then, are good aids to place one
within the halls of the immortals.
THE SONG OF THE ISLANDER
O brother, good brother, look out on the bay,
What’s that that is nearing, so long and so gray?
’Tis a palm tree, I’ll warrant, so large and so lean,
That it o’ershadows all palm trees that e’er I have seen.
O brother, good brother, it stops and is still;
White clouds are above it, they beckon and fill;
Two sticks running upward are covered with vines,
And a humming resounds like the wind when it whines.
O brother, good brother, a puff of white smoke
Rolls upward and onward—a voice surely spoke,
’Tis the speech of God Tezcal, he’s calling aloud,
For the rest of the Gods to gather and crowd.
O brother, good brother, what’s that to the rear?
A canoe is approaching, it fills me with fear,
For the white gods are paddling; they dress all in red,
And the skin of their hands looks like that of the dead.
O brother, good brother, bend low and keep still.
See the God in the bow, he is white-haired and ill.
Let us hide in the palms, ere they step on the shore,
Let us watch in the grass ’til this danger is o’er.
They jump to the beach, raise a cross-stick on high,
They speak a strange tongue and utter a cry.
O brother, good brother, what’s that shines and gleams?
On their breasts, on their backs,—it glitters and beams.
Let us talk with these strangers, let us speak with these men,
There are hundreds of brothers behind in the glen,
They surely can’t harm us, they come from the sky,
And they smile as they see us. Then let us draw nigh.
* * * * *
O brother, good brother, had I never been near,
These pale-visaged Gods who from Spain traveled here,
I’d be in the forest, not bound to the mast,
As the _Nina_ rolls on and the shore flyeth past.
Good-bye, tropic islands! Good-bye, Salvador!
_My spirit is crushed; my free life is o’er._
_Farewell, beloved palm trees! Farewell and adieu!_
_My home is behind me and fades from my view._
AMERIGO VESPUCCI:
FLORENTINE NAVIGATOR FROM WHOM AMERICA HAS DERIVED ITS NAME.
(1452-1512)
AMERIGO VESPUCCI:
FLORENTINE NAVIGATOR FROM WHOM AMERICA HAS DERIVED ITS NAME.
(1452-1512)
ABOUT the beginning of the thirteenth century a family called Vespucci
established themselves in the City of Florence, Italy. Anastatio
Vespucci was the head of the family in 1451 and lived in a stately
mansion, now occupied as a hospital for the poor, near the gate of the
city known as Porta del Prato. He was Secretary of the Senate, and,
although he lived in a palatial dwelling, had little besides the salary
attached to his high office. Upon March the ninth, 1451, the third
son of this official was born, and, when three days of age, was duly
christened Amerigo. He has since been called Americus.
Almost from his cradle the boy was destined to become a merchant.
Yet he had a good schooling, too, and was educated at a private
institution presided over by his father’s brother, a monk of the
Order of San Marco, who, before the birth of Americus, had become
famous as a teacher of the noble youths of the city. Here the boy was
taught mathematics, astronomy, geography, and the classics. He became
especially interested in geography and was ambitious to excel as a
geographer.
Amerigo, or Americus, seems to have remained a student under the
direction of his uncle for a number of years, yet we have no record of
when it was that he followed the wishes of his father and entered upon
mercantile pursuits. At any rate, he never lost his early interest in
geography. In spite of his days in a counting house, he eagerly studied
maps and charts. He made a collection of them, and, for one map alone,
paid a sum equivalent to five hundred and fifty-five dollars.
Americus had an elder brother, Geralamo, who had left home to seek his
fortune in foreign climes and had established himself in business in
Asia Minor. He became immensely wealthy, and all went well with him,
until one day, while he was at church, thieves broke into his house
and robbed him of all that he possessed. This greatly impoverished the
family, so that Americus determined to leave Florence and journey to
some other country where he could retrieve his brother’s losses. He
selected Spain as the scene of his future labors.
Just as Magellan deserted Portugal for Spain, so, also, Americus felt
that here were fame and fortune awaiting him. Ferdinand and Isabella
were then waging war upon the Moors who held the southern part of the
peninsula, and, as this was regarded as a holy war, many of the young
nobles from surrounding countries were in Spain fighting for the crown
of Castile. The war created a demand for many articles of commerce, so
Americus went to Spain as the agent for one of the Medici, a ruling
family in Florence. At the beginning of the year 1492, when Columbus
made his first journey of exploration to the West Indies, we find
the young Italian associated with one Berardi, who, after the return
of Columbus from his first voyage, was commissioned to furnish and
equip four vessels to be sent to the New World at different intervals.
Vespucci met Columbus, had lengthy conversations with him regarding the
New World, and, from his letters, we can see that he had a very clear
idea that Cuba was not the main land, as Columbus supposed it to be,
but was an island.
Berardi died in December, 1495, and the management of all his affairs
devolved upon the shoulders of Vespucci, who soon wearied of seeking
the favors of fortune and determined to abandon mercantile life for
something, “laudable and stable.” He formed, in fact, a determination
to visit the various parts of the world, a determination which he soon
put into execution.
A navigator, called Ojeda, was about to set sail for the West Indies
with four vessels and we find that Americus became one of his crew.
According to some, he was to be one of the principal pilots; according
to others he was to be an agent of the King and Queen, having a voice
in the direction of the ships. On May 10th., 1497, the fleet left
Cadiz, and, after reaching the Canary Islands, sailed so rapidly that,
at the end of twenty-seven days, it came in sight of land. This was the
coast of South America.
The Spaniards anchored and attempted to hold some intercourse with the
natives, but the Indians were very shy and refused to come out to visit
them. So, coasting along the shore, they came upon a village, which,
much to their surprise, was built after the fashion of the city of
Venice, Italy. The houses were placed upon piers in the water, and had
entrances by means of drawbridges, so that the inhabitants, by leaving
the bridges down, could traverse the whole town without difficulty. The
explorers therefore called it Venezuela, a name which has endured to
the present day.
The inhabitants, at first, shut themselves up in their houses and
raised the drawbridges, and, as the ships came nearer, the savages
embarked in their canoes and rowed out to sea. The Spaniards made every
mark of friendship and invited the Indians to come to their ships, but
the brown-skinned natives hastened away, making signs for the Spaniards
to wait where they were, as they would return. They came back, bringing
with them sixteen young girls, who beckoned to them and made signals of
peace. The Castilians were much impressed by this; so much so, in fact,
that their suspicions were not aroused by the sight of numerous natives
who came swimming towards the ships. Suddenly they noticed that some of
the women at the doors of the huts were wailing and tearing their hair,
as if in great distress.
While wondering what this meant, suddenly all the girls sprang from
their canoes, and the Spaniards saw that many men—who had been
heretofore hidden by them—were armed with a bow and arrows. Each
native in the water had a lance in his or her hand. Hardly had the
white men perceived this before they were furiously attacked.
[Illustration: AMERIGO VESPUCCI OFF THE COAST OF VENEZUELA]
The Spaniards vigorously defended themselves with their muskets and
then made a dash for the canoes in their long boats. They overturned
several, killed about twenty of the South Americans, and took two of
the girls and three men prisoners. Many of the natives were wounded.
The Spaniards did not burn the town, but returned to their ships, where
they placed the three men, whom they had captured, in irons. Then they
sailed southward, but, when morning dawned, discovered that the natives
had managed to wiggle out of their irons and had jumped overboard.
Keeping their course continually along the coast, the explorers came
to anchor about eighty miles from this new-world Venice, where they
saw about four thousand persons gathered upon the shore. These set up
a wild yelping, when the Spaniards let down their boats, and fled into
the forest. The white men followed and found a camp where two natives
were engaged in cooking iguanas, an animal which the early discoverers
describe as a serpent. The two cooks fled, of course, but the whites
disturbed nothing in the camp, in order to reassure the natives, and
then leisurely returned to their boats.
Upon the following day these Indians paddled to the ships, and when
they saw the two girl prisoners whom the Spaniards had taken, they
became suddenly very friendly, for these girls belonged to a tribe with
which they were then at war.
“We have only come here for the fishing,” said one of them, a chief.
“We live far back in the country and wish you to journey to see us as
our friends.”
The invitation was received with great satisfaction by the whites.
“They importuned us so much,” says Vespucci in his narrative of these
events, published some years afterwards, “that, having taken counsel,
twenty-three of us Christians concluded to go with them, well prepared,
and with firm resolution to die manfully, if such was to be our fate.”
So, the Spaniards journeyed inland, remained three days at the fishing
camp, and then set out for the interior, where they visited so many
villages that they were nine days on the journey, and their comrades on
board the vessels grew very uneasy about them. The Indians, in fact,
showed them great attention, and when they were about to return to the
ships, insisted upon carrying them along in hammocks, slung upon the
shoulders of strong and willing porters. When the explorers arrived at
the shore, their boats were almost swamped by the numbers of savages
who wished to accompany them, while swarms of natives who could not
get into the boats, swam alongside to the ships. So many came aboard,
that the mariners were quite troubled, fearing that they might make a
sudden and unexpected attack. A cannon was fired off to impress the
natives with the power of the explorers. At the explosion of the piece,
many leaped into the sea, like frogs plunging into a marsh. Those who
remained seemed to be unafraid and took leave of the mariners with many
demonstrations of affection.
The Spaniards had now been thirteen months at sea, so their thoughts
turned towards home. It was therefore decided to careen their vessels
on the beach, in order to calk and pitch them anew, as they leaked
badly, and then they would return to Spain. The Castilians made a
breastwork of their boats and their casks, and placed their artillery
so that it would play upon any enemies who might advance; then, having
unloaded and lightened their ships, they hauled them on land to make
much needed repairs.
No attack was made by the natives. Instead of this the South Americans
brought them food, begging them to assist them in punishing a very
cruel tribe of people who came to their country, every year, from the
sea, and killed many of their warriors. They afterwards would eat
them. Against these enemies they said that they were unable to defend
themselves. When the Spaniards promised to march against the cannibals,
no words could express their gratitude. Many wished to go with them,
but the whites wisely rejected such offers, permitting only seven to
accompany them.
The Spaniards sailed in a northeasterly direction for seven days, and
then came upon some islands, many of which were peopled. They cast
anchor before one of them and lowered the boats; but, as they did so,
they saw about four hundred men and women gather on the beach; the men
armed with bows, arrows, and lances, their naked bodies painted with
various colors. As the Castilians approached to within bowshot of the
shore, the savages sent a flight of arrows at them in an effort to
prevent them from landing.
The cannon were therefore loaded and fired. As some of the Indians
fell dead, the rest retreated. The Castilians, with a cheer, hastily
landed and fell upon the savages, who put up a stiff fight. The battle
raged for about two hours without a decisive victory upon either side;
some of the Indians were killed and some of the whites were injured.
At last, tired out, the explorers were glad enough to return to their
vessels.
Next day the Spaniards landed again, and, under the leadership of
Vespucci, had a bloody battle with the cannibals. The natives were at
length badly worsted, were driven to their village, and this was burned
to the ground. Only one of the explorers was killed, while twenty-two
were wounded. Many of the Indians were burned in the ruins of their
thatched huts.
Well satisfied with the outcome of this affair, the mariners now
set sail for Spain, with the plaudits of the savages, whom they had
assisted, ringing in their ears. They arrived in October, 1498, after
an absence of about nineteen months, and were well received by the King
and Queen, for they brought considerable gold, jewels, and skins of
strange beasts and birds. Vespucci was highly pleased; he had been the
first to visit the shore of South America and had really done something
great in exploration,—his dream for many years.
Shortly after his return, a second expedition was prepared for a
journey to this new-found country, headed by one Ojeda, a Spaniard of
some wealth and influence. A fleet of four vessels was equipped, and
the latter part of the Spring of 1499 saw them ready for sea. The
reputation of Vespucci as a geographer was such as to make him the
very man needed for this particular voyage, and, although at first
disinclined to leave home at so early a date, he finally yielded to the
entreaties of Ojeda, and joined the party.
They set sail from Cadiz in May, 1499, and twenty-four days later saw
land. The shore was low and so densely covered with small aromatic
trees that the explorers concluded to return to their ships and try
some other spot. After coasting along in a southerly direction they
came to the mouth of a great river, and, having manned their boats with
twenty well-armed adventurers, entered the stream and ascended it for
more than fifty miles. But the land was as low, up-stream, as it was at
the mouth, so the reconnoitering party floated down-stream to the fleet
again. Anchors were raised, the ships stood out to sea, and, sailing in
a southerly direction, encountered the great equatorial current which
sweeps along the coast of Brazil.
“We could scarcely make any headway against it,” says Amerigo, in his
description of this journey published some years later. “Seeing that
we made no progress, or but very little, and also seeing the danger
to which we were exposed, we determined to turn our prows to the
northwest.”
Ten degrees north of the equator, the explorers again saw land, and,
drawing nearer, found that this was an island. Many of the inhabitants
were gathered upon the shore; but, when the pale-faced strangers
landed, they took fright and ran into the woods. Fortunately two were
captured and acted as envoys, so, after a time, the rest allowed the
Spaniards to approach and speak with them. They were cannibals, eating
the bodies of all those whom they killed or captured in war, and had
the heads and bones of those who had been eaten piled up in a big heap.
Much disgusted at what they had seen, the Spaniards sailed away.
Drowsing along the coast of this island they came to another village
of the same tribe, where they were hospitably received and were fed by
the brown-skinned inhabitants. But they moved onward, sailed westward,
and soon anchored near one of the mouths of the Orinoco River, where
was a large village close to the sea, the inhabitants of which regaled
the mariners with three different kinds of wine, and presented them
with eleven large pearls, more than a hundred smaller ones, and a small
quantity of gold. Here the navigators remained seventeen days, feasting
upon fruits and the savory acorns with which the place abounded.
Then they continued along the coast, stopping occasionally to hold
intercourse with the natives.
These, for the most part, were unfriendly, and the Spaniards had many a
battle with the South Americans.
Vespucci says: “Many times not more than sixteen of us fought with
two thousand of them, and, in the end defeated them, killing many
and robbing their houses. We were obliged to fight with a great many
people, but we always had the victory.”
Thus they progressed upon their way, fighting, trading, exploring,
until their stock of provisions became so nearly exhausted that it
was impossible for them to proceed further. Their ships, too, were
sea-worn and leaky, so that the pumps could scarcely keep them free
from water.
Other Spanish adventurers had founded a city called Hispaniola, not
long before this, situated upon the eastern coast of Panama. The Ojeda
expedition was now about three hundred and sixty miles from the point,
but it was decided to sail thither in order to repair the ships and
secure food, such as Europeans were accustomed to. After a voyage of
several weeks, the Spanish caravels anchored in the harbor of the city
founded by their countrymen, where they remained for two months.
Refreshed by their stay at Hispaniola, the Spaniards now cruised for
some time among the numberless small islands north of Hayti, but the
provisions which they had secured soon began to give out; they were
reduced to six ounces of bread and three small measures of water a
day for each man; and the ships began to leak again, in spite of all
the caulking which had been done at Hispaniola. The leaders of the
expedition, therefore, decided to capture some slaves for the purpose
of selling to wealthy grandees in Spain, and to return home.
This harsh resolution was well carried out. Two hundred and thirty-two
unfortunate natives were torn from their island home and their
pleasant, indolent life, and were taken on board the ships. It was a
dastardly thing to do, but men in these times were like the German
invaders of Belgium in ours,—they were brutes. The prows of the four
caravels were now turned towards Spain, and, after an uneventful
voyage, they arrived at their place of departure, June 8th., 1500,
after an absence of about thirteen months. Of the fifty-seven men who
had set out upon the expedition, two had been killed by the Indians,
the rest returned home. Thirty-two of the slaves died upon the journey
across the Atlantic, the rest were sold to the Spanish grandees.
Amerigo wrote freely of the journey to South America and his letters
had a wide circulation, for he was the first newspaper correspondent:
the forerunner of the modern Richard Harding Davis-es and Frank G.
Carpenters. By means of these epistles he gained a wide celebrity and
his name became more closely connected with the New World than that of
Columbus. Such being the case, it is no wonder that people began to
call these new possessions after the man who wrote so graphically of
what he had seen there. Amerigo Vespucci told of a land which came to
be known as the land of Americus, or America. It should really have
been called Columbia, after Christopher Columbus, but Columbus did not
happen to have the facility for writing interesting letters.
Amerigo, greatly pleased with what he had accomplished, was resting
quietly at Seville, when an invitation came from the King of Portugal
to have him visit him, and, when he arrived at Lisbon, the King had
much to say to him.
“Would he undertake another expedition to the new world under the
Portuguese banner?” Yes, he would.
No sooner said than done. On May 13th, 1501, Vespucci left on another
journey with three armed caravels. They ran south, touched at the
Canary Islands, and then, through fierce and violent tempests, plowed
towards the coast of South America. This they reached at length, and,
coasting southward, frequently landed on the shore, where they had
intercourse with the natives, most of whom were cannibals.
Here the Spaniards remained for several months, then, having found
no minerals of value in the country, although there was a great
abundance of valuable woods of every kind, they decided to return
to Portugal. All the vessels were stocked with food and with water
for six months, their prows were turned eastward, and, bidding the
cannibals of South America a fond adieu, the explorers headed for home.
After a stormy passage, and, after a voyage of fifteen months, the
adventurous navigators again sailed into the harbor of Lisbon, where
they were received with much joy. Florence received the accounts of the
discoveries of her illustrious son with much pride, and honors were
bestowed upon those members of his family who lived in the city of the
Arno.
Amerigo Vespucci was now a popular idol. He had been the discoverer of
the method of obtaining longitude at sea, by observing the conjunction
of the moon with one of the planets, and his observations and
enumeration of the stars in the southern heavens were of great value
to mariners who came after him. He was far in advance of most other
learned men of the age in his knowledge of the sciences of astronomy
and geometry.
Believing that Amerigo would have reached India by way of the
southwest, had not his last voyage been interrupted by the severe
storm which he had encountered, the King of Portugal lost no time in
fitting out another expedition. Six vessels were therefore prepared,
Amerigo being placed in command of one of them, and recognized as the
scientific authority of the squadron. The fleet set sail again for that
country of which all Europe was talking and speculating.
This expedition was similar to those which preceded it. The vessels met
with severe storms; saw cannibals, brightly plumaged birds, and islands
of palm groves and chattering parrots. The Spaniards built a fortress
upon one of the many harbors which they entered; then, as all but one
ship had been lost by shipwreck, the vessel which Vespucci commanded
sailed back to Lisbon, arriving on June 18th., 1504. He was received as
one risen from the dead, for the whole city had given him up for lost.
Thus ended the last voyage of the famous Florentine. Perhaps
disheartened by the unfortunate result of his cruise, he abandoned
the idea of again going to sea, and devoted himself to writing an
account of what he had already accomplished. Although younger by four
years than Columbus, when the great Admiral had set sail upon his
first voyage to the unknown West, Amerigo decided to rest upon laurels
already won, and to never again tempt fame and fortune in an expedition
to the shores of South America. He spent his declining years in writing
a full and graphic account of his many expeditions to the New World,
and, on February the twenty-second, 1512, the spirit of the astronomer
and geographer passed to a better sphere.
For many years after its discovery there seems to have been no effort
to give a name to the New World; indeed, it was so long supposed to
be a part of Asia that this was thought to be unnecessary. In a Latin
book, printed at Strassburg, Germany, in 1509—the work of an Italian
called Ilacomilo—it was suggested that the country be called America,
as it was discovered by Amerigo (Americus).
Not in the lifetime of the great Vespucci was this name so used. As
late as the year 1550, North America was called Terra Florida on the
Spanish maps, while Brazil was the name given to the coast of South
America, where much dye-wood was obtained; the title coming from the
Portuguese word _braza_, meaning live coal, or glowing fire. Both the
names of America and Brazil were applied to the shore of South America,
until, after a while, the second of these names was confined to that
part of the coast where the valuable dye-wood was obtained, while the
other name was attached to the part north and south of it. From this it
was but a short step to speaking of all of the great southern peninsula
as America, and gradually this name was given to the entire western
continent.
Somewhere in Spain or Italy, Amerigo Vespucci sleeps in an unknown
grave, but his epitaph is the name of a double continent: rich,
populous, teeming with all things valuable.
Of noble thought, splendid mind, and facile pen, the memory of the
great Florentine geographer should be revered and respected for all
time.
JUAN PONCE DE LEON:
DREAMER AND SEARCHER FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF PERPETUAL YOUTH.
(1460-1521)
_The tropic breeze fanned a fairy tale, a tale of the sheltering
palms,_
_Where the grimy sea cow sunned herself, in the bay where the
ground-swell calms._
_It sang a song of a fountain clear in the depth of the tropic glade,_
_Where the bubbles sparkle clear and cool, o’er the rocks of brown and
jade._
_It spoke of the waters healing, which to bathe in meant joyous
youth,_
_To the gray-haired and decrepit, with wrinkles and hollowed tooth._
_And the breeze came to the ears of men, who believed it to be no
lie._
_So the agéd De Leon chimeras chased, in the land where he was to
die._
JUAN PONCE DE LEON:
DREAMER AND SEARCHER FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF PERPETUAL YOUTH.
(1460-1521)
ONCE there lived in the island of Porto Rico, which became the property
of the United States in 1898, a Spanish Knight who had fought against
the Moors in Spain and who had helped to drive them from his native
country. His name was Juan Ponce de Leon, and he was rich in slaves, in
plantations, and in money.
The good knight was growing old. As he gazed in his mirror he saw that
his once coal-black beard was now silvered with gray, that his head was
not only bald, but also grizzled, and, as for his joints, well, he had
strange rheumatic pains when he bent over, and he did not leap out of
bed in the morning with the same spirit of enthusiasm that he had had
twenty years before.
It is no wonder that this wrinkled soldier gave eager ear to the
remarks of a native chieftain, Atamara, who one day said to the
gray-haired veteran:
“I see, good sir, that you are nearing a time when you will have to
bid farewell to all your earthly possessions, which will, I know, be
far from pleasing to you. If you sail to the westward, you will find a
fountain whose waters will restore the full vigor of youth. No matter
how old you may be, should you but drink of this marvelous spring, you
will be again twenty years of age. Your aches and pains will disappear,
and you will enjoy life even as you did when a stripling.”
Ponce de Leon pricked up his ears at this, and eagerly questioned the
chief concerning the direction which the fountain lay from the Isle of
Porto Rico.
“It lies towards the northwest,” said the Indian. “Here a man and a
woman, called Idona and Nomi, who had grown old together, came down
to drink. Filling a pearly shell which lay near the water, first Nomi
handed it to Idona, saying:
“‘Drink, my love, that I may know thou wilt not part from me forever,
for I have heard from the wind that this is a magic fountain where the
water has the power of returning one’s youth.’
“Idona drank, then turned and filled the cup for his mate. A marvel now
came to pass. There stood Nomi, beautiful as in her youth; garlanded,
too, with flowers as when Idona had first seen her, and facing her was
her lover in all the glory of his young manhood.
“And, because these two had been so faithful to their pledges and had
borne the pains of life so bravely together, the Spirit of the Earth
led them to her own home, where they dwelt happily ever afterwards.
“But once in twelve moons they come to the fountain to drink together
of its waters.
“This is the legend of the water,” concluded Atamara, “as it has been
known amongst us from a time so far away that our wise men cannot
measure it.”
Nowadays no one would give credence to such a legend, but those days
were different from the present. For had not hundreds of Spaniards
believed in the El Dorado, or gilded man, and had not they followed De
Soto in order to view him? So the Knight of Spain asked many questions
of Atamara concerning his knowledge of the land where was the Fountain
of Youth, and he learned enough to satisfy himself that many unexplored
islands and seas lay to the northward, which were only waiting for the
eyes of some venturesome Castilian. He still had an iron constitution,
built up by sound habits, military training, and temperate living; and
he felt that he was not yet too old to use his good sword to carve
out a greater dominion in new territories. On the other hand, he had
reached the downward turn of life so that this tale of the Fountain of
Youth appealed to him the more he pondered upon it; and he determined
to go and seek for this mysterious water, even as De Soto had sought
for the Gilded Man.
The King of Spain was quite ready to grant this knight permission to
discover, explore, and colonize the fabled land of which De Leon now
wrote him, and sent him a letter which ran as follows:
“To the Knight Don Juan Ponce de Leon. Inasmuch as you, Juan Ponce de
Leon, have sent and asked permission to go and discover the Island of
Biminin, in accordance with certain conditions herein stated, and in
order to confer on you this favor:
“We grant you that you may discover, explore, and colonize the said
island, provided that it be not heretofore discovered and under the
conditions herein stated, to wit:
“First, that you, Juan Ponce de Leon, take with you such ships as you
require for the discovery of the said island, and for the carrying
out of such projects. We grant you a period of three years, dating
from the day which you receive this document, with the understanding
that you are to set out on this voyage of discovery the first year,
also during your outward course you are privileged to touch at such
islands, or mainlands in the ocean, as yet undiscovered, provided they
do not belong to the King of Portugal, our much beloved son. Nor can
you take anything whatever save such articles as are required for your
sustenance, and the equipment of your ships, paying for them according
to value received.
“Moreover, to you, Ponce de Leon, in finding and discovering said
island, we accord the Governorship, also the administration of
justice, during your lifetime, and, to insure the privilege, we will
make your authority extend to the civil and criminal jurisdiction,
including every and all issues, and rights annexed.
“I order that the Indians be distributed among the people who make the
first discoveries, as they should receive the most advantages.
“Dated at Burgos, January 22nd., 1512.
“I, THE KING FERNANDO.
“Signed by the Bishop of Valencia.”
De Leon overhauled his caravels, accumulated stores of arms,
provisions, gifts, and trinkets of various kinds that would be suited
to the tastes of the Indians whom he should find in these lands which
he might discover, and arranged his home affairs. He had three caravels
in all, and three hundred sailors and soldiers. Besides these, were
several priests, for whose accommodation a chapel was built upon the
after deck of the _Dolores_, the largest vessel. All things were now
ready, and, bidding his good wife, the Dona Dolores, farewell, the
Spanish adventurer turned the prow of his flagship towards the west,
and sailed through azure seas, whose very fish were rainbow tinted, in
quest of the Fountain of Youth.
The air was balmy, scented with the sweet odors of fruits and flowers,
and fragrant with the spices of mango trees. The vessels drifted onward
from one fairy-like islet to another, at all of which they made a brief
stay, searching for that marvelous fountain of which the Indian had
spoken.
Brown-skinned natives came from the forests, bearing gifts of precious
stones, of fruit, and of beauteous flowers, for which they refused
any recompense. White beaches glistened in the tropic sunlight as if
their sands were polished grains of silver, and, as the caravels luffed
under the lee of some of these palm-studded isles, the sailors saw
quiet coves, shining like polished mirrors, into which crystal streams
gurgled with murmurs almost human.
The Castilians were charmed with the beautiful scenery, and many said:
“Surely in this land of peace and beauty there must be a Fountain of
perpetual Youth.”
So they kept onward towards the north, ever looking for the marvellous
water which was to turn their grizzled leader into a youth again.
The sailors gazed at the many birds which fluttered in the palms and
sometimes hovered near their ships. There were white egrets, or herons,
parroquets with green and yellow plumage, pink curlews, and flamingos
with scarlet feathers and long curved bills. There were great sea
turtles splashing in the shallows with huge, flabby feet, and gray
sharks which whirled about amidst the foam in eager search for their
prey.
Everywhere the natives were friendly, and, when asked if they knew
aught of the Fountain of Youth, would shake their heads. Vainly the
Spaniards drank of all the springs and the rivulets in these tropic
isles, for none seemed to possess the wonderful healing properties for
which they longed. The brown-skinned islanders knew little of Atamara’s
legend of the fountain, but they spoke of a great land lying far
beyond, where perhaps the wondrous water might be spouting. It was a
fine country, said they, called by the musical name of Florida.
One moonlight evening, as De Leon sat upon the high deck of his
caravel, when his vessels threaded a channel between two shadowy
islands upon the port and the starboard, suddenly, far, far in front
of him he beheld a brownish gray strip of country. It was an hour when
revery would take the form of dreams, and, fearing that the vision of
coast and headland, gulf, bays, palm trees and ports-of-refuge might be
some delusive vision of the brain, he turned to his companion, Perez de
Esequera, saying:
“Is it true that I view the shadowy sea-coast of some undiscovered
land? I see great bays, indentations, and projections. I believe, good
Perez, that we are nearing a shore from which many Spains, nay, all
of Europe might be carved and scarcely missed. Pray that the saints
shall guide us to the land of Bimini and to that wondrous fountain of
perpetual youth!”
“Indeed, good Knight,” replied his companion. “I, also, see this
vision. It may be a mirage, but I feel that soon we shall find this
country of which the natives tell. Let us be optimistic!”
Next day the vessels were headed towards the north, and, with a stiff
breeze filling the bellying canvas, made progress onward. During the
night, the sailors of De Leon’s caravel heard the distant booming
of breakers, and awakened their leader. The good knight called to
his sailing-master to make soundings, which showed that they were in
shallow water. So the anchors were let go, the sails were furled, and
the vessels lay waiting for the coming of the day.
Dawn reddened in the east, and, far to the north and south of the
anchorage, stretched a multitude of sand dunes. The surging billows of
the Atlantic threw white wisps of spray upon a long yellowish beach,
beyond which was a background of dark green forests. From the masthead
a sailor called out that he saw a winding river, coursing through
grassy marshes, which grew broad and green-gray as it reached the
ocean. It was Palm Sunday, March the 27th., 1512, so the Castilians
sang the Te Deum and, with ringing cheers, gave voice to their pleasure
in finding the fabled land of Florida.
When the vessels neared the beach, next day, the adventurers saw that
there was little here but a succession of sand hills. So the Spaniards
coasted along by the booming surf and at length reached a sheltered
bay which they called the Bay of the Holy Cross. Many native canoes
were seen disappearing into narrow creeks among the marshes, so it was
apparent that the Indians had no desire to become acquainted with these
strange mariners in the queer-shaped caravels. The ships anchored and
that night De Leon called his captains and lieutenants on board his
flag ship for counsel. It was decided that on the morning a landing
should be made, in force, and that formal possession should be taken of
this soil in the name of King Ferdinand of Spain.
The next morning was the second of April, a time when the foliage of
Florida is at its best. As day crept on, boats were lowered along
the sloping sides of the little caravels, which rapidly filled with
armored men upon whose greaves and breastplates the sunlight flashed
and gleamed with silvery reflections in the green-black water. Waving
plumes and crimson scarfs tossed in the morning breeze, while high
above all gleamed the golden cross borne by the Chaplain, good Father
Antonio. The commander had decreed that all should appear in the best
of armor and equipment so that the honor due the King of Spain by his
followers should be ample and sufficient.
The tide being full, the boats landed high up on the shore, Ponce De
Leon leading the way, and being the first to step upon the soil which
would thenceforth be his by decree of his Sovereign. Halting, the
cavalier waited for Father Antonio with his cross, before which, on
bended knee, he gave thanks to God for his great mercy in bringing him
safely to this goodly land.
Now all disembarked, and, while trumpets sounded and drums beat, formed
a procession headed by the priests, the cross, and Ponce de Leon with
his banner. Marching to the roll of drum and the blare of bugle, the
cavalcade went some distance up the beach to a spot where the priests
had erected the chapel altar, decorated with sacred emblems and votive
offerings. This was in the square of an Indian village. The golden
cross was placed in a position facing the morning sun and the soldiers
knelt in a semi-circle around it, as service was held to commemorate
this auspicious event.
Save for the deep booming of the sea, and the song of a mocking bird,
there was silence. The Indians peered at the strange sight from behind
trees and bushes in the neighboring forest, and, perceiving that the
fair-skinned strangers were engaged in some ceremony or proceedings,
they looked upon the crouching Spaniards with expressions of awe.
The mass was soon ended, and Ponce de Leon took formal possession of
the country in the name of his sovereign, proclaiming himself, by
virtue of the royal authority, Adelantodo of the Land of Florida. Then
a fanfare of trumpets rent the air, mingled with the cheers of the
soldiers.
A small stone pillar was now set up, which had been brought from Porto
Rico for that purpose, and upon which was carved a cross, the royal
arms, and an inscription reciting the discovery of Florida and its
possession by the Crown of Spain.
Although De Leon felt that he was really the first Spaniard to find
this country, such was really not the case, for the outline of the
peninsula is plainly drawn in an old map published in the year 1502.
To this discovery little attention seems to have been paid at the
time, for it was a period when explorers were most anxious to find
gold and pearls and there was nothing to fix particular attention to
this new coast. Thus Ponce de Leon’s vaunted first vision was really a
rediscovery of what an earlier and equally valiant Castilian had seen.
The Spaniards, who had landed, it seems, not far from the site of St.
Augustine, found, when they attempted to search for the Fountain of
Perpetual Youth, that the natives did not have quite as good an opinion
of their mission as they could wish.
After they had sailed from the Bay of the Holy Cross the wise men
of the Indian village concluded that the stone pillar represented
something inimical to their own rights of possession, so they had
it taken to the deepest part of the bay and there thrown overboard.
Previous to this they had vigorously protested against the invasion of
their peaceful country. Yet no blows had been struck.
The caravels headed down the coast with fair wind behind them and, not
far from the southern point of the island, which formed the seaward
barrier of the Bay of the Holy Cross, they saw a curious spot upon the
surface of the sea where the water boiled like a caldron, or as if some
mighty fountain flowed upward from a hole in the bed of the ocean. This
is a natural well in the Atlantic, quite similar to those on land, and
can still be seen by sailors off the Florida coast. There were great
schools of fish nearby, and many were captured in nets as the vessels
drifted slowly upon their course.
The voyagers coasted along the low-lying shore, admiring the view, and
finally saw a canoe approaching in which was a handsome youth, the
messenger from a native chieftain Sannatowah. He bore a missive to the
effect that, if the strangers came in peace, he was ready to meet them
in the same spirit, also; but if they came not with such intent, it
would be best for them to remain on board their floating houses, for
there were as many warriors in the land as there were palm trees in the
forests.
“How shall it be known whether we come in peace or in war?” asked Ponce
de Leon.
“By this,” answered the herald, touching the bow which was slung over
his shoulder, “if it be war. Or this,” laying his hand upon a green
branch thrust in his girdle, “if it be peace. There are eagle eyes
watching on yonder shore, and, whichever I hold up, the message goes
straight to Sannatowah!”
“And if I let you make no sign nor go back, what then?”
“War!” was the answer.
A smile came to the serious countenance of the Spanish seeker for the
Fountain of Youth as he said:
“I pray thee, then, young sea eagle, go to the prow of my ship and hold
up the green bough of peace. I pledge you my sacred word that there
shall be peace between thy people and mine as long as it is in my power
to have it so. Tell me if there be any answer from the shore and if all
is well. Tarry with us, so as to be our herald to your cacique.”
As he ceased speaking, the youthful Indian went forward, and, standing
upon the bowsprit, waved his green branch first towards the south, next
to the north, and then towards the sky. This over, he came back to the
after deck, saying:
“All is well. Sannatowah and his people will greet you as friends and
as guests.”
The Spaniards soon went ashore, greeted the Indian chieftain, and were
told by him that, two days’ easy journey to the westward, lay several
great springs and a mighty river, the beginning and end of which was
unknown to him. One of these springs, said he, was in the territory
of a tribe with which they were now at war; but, when he was a youth,
there had been peace, and he had often visited it. This spring was
deemed to be sacred. It was a great fountain which welled up from the
depths of the earth and was apparently bottomless. Its waters were as
clear as azure, so that one could see far into the pearly depths.
“I drank not of it,” he continued, “for the wise men of the tribe said
that it was forbidden by the Great Spirit, except to one of the tribe
in whose land it was. The fountain is in the country of Tegesta.”
Ponce de Leon tarried quietly in the bay for several days; but finally
landed his men, in order to travel to the place where lay this wondrous
fountain. He had ten horses on the caravels and one mule. These were
lowered overboard and swam ashore, which occasioned much surprise and
astonishment among the natives, who viewed these strange animals with
both fear and distrust.
When Father Antonio’s long-eared mule climbed from the ocean and struck
the solid earth with his hoofs (the first of his kind to come to
Florida) and then opened his mouth for one long, piercing bray, all the
natives took to the woods in impulsive flight. It was some time before
they dared to return.
Sannatowah was eager to befriend De Leon, and sent him guides to pilot
him to the place where lay the great river and the crystal spring; and,
although usually averse to such labor, a number of redskins went along
as porters, agreeing of their own free will to go at least as far as
their own boundaries. Everything was soon ready, the trumpets blared
out their clarion notes of warning, and the march began.
Through forests of great oaks, magnolias and palm trees which hung with
streamers of long, gray moss and matted vines, the Spaniards wended
their way, startling many a shy deer from the leafy coverts and once
or twice a great brown bear, which lumbered away, snorting with fear.
Mocking birds trilled at them from leafy branches, and squirrels
chattered and scolded from fallen tree trunks.
Carrying his helmet at his saddle-bow, so that he might feel the
refreshing breeze, De Leon rode at the head of the little column of
horse and foot until they came to a place in the forest where a great
tree lay prostrate over the trail.
“This,” said the native guides, “is the border of our lands. Beyond
is Tegesta. We can go no farther, for, while the flower of peace[1]
blooms, there is a truce between ourselves and those who live beyond.”
So the Spaniards made camp, but next morning they pressed onward into
the wilderness, and, passing around a great cypress swamp, suddenly
came upon an Indian village named Colooza, near a large lake. They
were met with a shower of arrows, but, clapping spurs to their horses,
soon drove the redskins behind a rude stockade which surrounded their
thatched huts.
De Leon flung himself from his horse, and, regardless of the arrows
which were singing around him and were glancing from his steel
breastplate, he led a charge upon the gate, with a wild cry of “St.
Iago and at them!” With his battle-ax he swept an entrance to the
palisade, and then, dashing in, followed by his men, the village
was soon cleared of all but five of the native Floridians. These,
apparently awed by the invulnerability of their opponents, gave in and
surrendered. They were compelled to go along with the Spaniards as
guides.
Passing through a country of well-tilled fields and gardens, where were
picturesque clusters of native houses, the discoverers came to the
waters of a great lake which was so wide that the woods were scarcely
distinguishable upon the opposite shore. This was Lake Munroe, a broad
expanse of the St. Johns River, which enters it at one end and flows
from it at the other. De Leon here halted, sending the captured natives
onward to find the chief of this country, telling them to assure him
that the white men were peacefully inclined and were in search of the
fabled and mystical Fountain of Perpetual Youth, which they had heard
was in the territory over which he held dominion.
At nightfall, one of these native runners appeared at the camp, bearing
the reply of the great chief Olatheta, which was that he was delighted
to learn that the strangers did not wish to war with him and requested
that their leader should meet him at the council house upon the
following day.
Ponce de Leon was overjoyed. Now he was nearing his goal, for he
believed that the Fountain of Perpetual Youth lay only a few leagues
before him. Eagerly he awaited the morrow, and, at the time set for the
advance, heralds came from Olatheta to conduct the Spaniards to their
chieftain.
The Castilians soon came upon a great collection of dwellings, many of
which were quite large, and before the largest of all was the chieftain
with his principal men. As they entered the town, the signal was given
for the trumpeters to blow and the drums to beat. This caused great
fear among the natives so that many ran away; but, seeing that there
were no signs of hostility on the part of the strangers, they resumed
their wonted attitude of stoical reserve.
“Pray, why have you come to this country?” asked Olatheta. “Are you
peaceful, or are you warlike?”
Ponce de Leon bowed.
“I am the servant of a Great King beyond the water,” said he, “and he
has given me the Governorship of these islands. So I have brought with
me a holy man to teach you the true religion, and, as I have heard that
you have here the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, I would like to visit it
and to drink of its wonderous waters.”
Olatheta smiled, as he answered:
“There is a great fountain near at hand, which we all reverence and
hold sacred. Yet, because my people have transgressed the proper laws
of our tribe, the Great Spirit has taken much of its virtue from it.
If, however, you wish to visit it, I will willingly accompany you. This
holy man of yours may induce the great God to restore its power, which
will be such a great blessing to my people that they will all rejoice
at your coming, instead of being angry with you, as many are now,
because of your attack upon Colooza.”
“Let us journey to this spring immediately,” said De Leon with
enthusiasm. “Good chieftain, lead on!”
Olatheta arose, and, beckoning to the Spaniards to attend him, walked
rapidly away. The Castilians followed, surrounded by a vast multitude
of natives, who crowded around them in wonder and curiosity. As they
wound through the thickets, Father Antonio’s mule startled every one
with a series of the most ear-piercing brays, which caused an instant
panic among the Indians, coupled with loud laugher from the soldiers.
“By the Saint of San Sebastian,” cried a Sergeant, called Bartola,
“were that mule mine and were this indeed the fountain whereof we are
in search, I should see to it that he drank not a drop of its waters.”
“Why so?” asked a smiling comrade.
“Why? A pretty question truly. Because there would be no place for any
sound on earth, if the waters would have such virtue to increase vigor
as they are said to have. All would have to fly before the thunderous
braying of yonder ass.”
The cavalcade passed onward, and, nearing a grove of stately trees,
the eager Spaniards saw a fountain such as they had never seen before
in any other land. There was a brim as round as a huge cup, and inside
were waters as clear as crystal, which boiled up from depths lost in
inky shadows, and ran over the edge into a little water course, which
gushed and bubbled towards the lake.
“Hurrah!” cried the eager De Leon. “It must indeed be the Fountain of
Youth! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
The day was a beautiful one. Bright birds darted from the waving
branches, the sun shone brilliantly upon the armor of the Spanish
adventurers, as, with the horsemen in advance, clad with plumed
helmets, silver shields, upon which were emblazoned red lions, and
with sword and battle-axe clanking against their armored legs, the
Spaniards neared the gushing waters of the fountain.
In front of all was the good Father Antonio, who, holding with one hand
the bridle-rein of his dun-brown mule, raised the other in blessing.
The Indians crowded around him, awed by the sonorous Latin, and, as
he finished his benediction, Olatheta stepped forward and filled an
earthen cup, which he had brought, with water dipped from the fountain.
Turning about he handed it to Ponce de Leon.
Smiling, and with a trembling hand, the good knight raised the cup to
his lips. The cool liquid gurgled down his bronzed and weather-beaten
throat. Yet—oh! sad and distressing to relate! No part of his grizzled
exterior changed to the freshness of youth.
As he was raising this goblet to his lips, his companions rushed
tumultuously to the fountain and buried their heated faces in the clear
and sparkling water. They drank deeply, and in silence awaited the
beginning of miracles, each with eager eyes fixed upon his neighbor.
Again, alas! The miracles came not. Beards of grizzly gray remained the
same. Wrinkles did not disappear, and stiffened joints still moved with
the same lack of spring as of yore. Alack and aday!! The fountain had
lost its charm and was not the fabled water of perpetual youth.
The silence was broken by the solemn voice of Father Antonio:
[Illustration: JUAN PONCE DE LEON AT THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.]
“God’s will be done!” cried he. “Blessed be His holy name!”
In sorrow and with downcast faces, the Spaniards turned about, and
wearily, dejectedly, mournfully, wended their way back to the camp of
the friendly Olatheta.
* * * * *
The good Knight Ponce de Leon traveled through much of this beautiful
land of Florida, fought many a stiff fight with the native inhabitants,
and finally sailed back to the isle of Porto Rico, bearing marvelous
tales of this land of promise, but no water which would restore the
agèd to youth and beauty. He journeyed to Spain, was received right
graciously by the King, and came back to his island home, expecting to
remain there in peaceful pursuits, until his demise.
Yet, still hoping to find that mystical and fabled fountain, he finally
fitted out two caravels, and, with a larger force than had followed his
banner in the first expedition, resolved to again explore the western
coast of beautiful Florida.
This journey was to be his undoing. At every point naked savages fought
desperately against his mailed warriors. In one of these encounters he
was attempting to rescue one of his comrades, when he was hit by an
arrow in the thigh. The barb penetrated the protecting armor to the
bone. He was rescued by his faithful followers and was carried to his
ship, weak and fainting from the loss of blood. It is said by some,
that, although the arrow was withdrawn, a part of the arrow-head,
which was of flint, did not come wholly away.
Suffering and delirious, the brave old navigator was borne to the
harbor of Matanzas in Cuba, where was a settlement which he, himself,
had founded. His adventurous companions lifted the pallet upon which he
lay on the upper deck, where the cooling breezes might alleviate his
fever, lowered it into a boat, and, when the shore was reached, carried
him tenderly into an unfinished house, which he was having constructed.
They brought his suit of mail, his banner, and his sword, placing
them around him so that he might feel at home. Delirium now seized
the care-worn explorer, and thus he lay for days, as, in fancy he saw
himself a boy again, climbing the bold rocks of the Sierras after young
eagles, contending in the courtyard with his brothers, or chasing the
brown deer in the leafy forests.
Then the camp and battle scenes passed before his eager vision; voyages
over vast seas among beauteous islands; expeditions through palms and
moss-grown mimosas; journeying to the villages of brown-skinned natives.
One night, peace came to the old warrior, and there was weeping and
sorrow among his staunch and battle-scarred companions.
They carried the body of the good knight to the Isle of Porto Rico,
where they first gave him a sepulchre within the castle, but eventually
his ashes were deposited beneath the high altar of the Dominican church
in San Juan de Puerto Rico, where they rested for more than three
hundred years.
When the American forces invaded the country in 1898, and took it away
from the rule of Castile, his remains were placed beneath a monument,
upon which was carved the trite but appropriate saying:
“This narrow grave contains the remains of a man who was a lion by
name, and much more so by nature.”
VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA:
DISCOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN.
(1475-1517)
_A sob and a moan from the ocean; a voice from the swaying palm,_
_As a parroquet, brilliant with spangles, chatters and clatters
alarm._
_For a man stands gazing seaward, a man who is pale and worn,_
_With a lean hand shading his forehead, a doublet faded and torn._
_“I take you, O brilliant waters, for the King and Queen of Castile_
_And I name you the Southern Ocean, Ye must know how joyous I feel._
_For, from lands that are distant and foreign, I sailed to view and
explore,_
_And what I have seen is o’erpowering; what I behold, I adore.”_
_And the parroquet chattered and scolded, and the waters lay calm and
gray,_
_As Balboa, who found the Pacific, gazed and dreamed through the day._
VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA:
DISCOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN.
(1475-1517)
IT is something to be a discoverer of anything. It must give the one
who has that happy fate a great thrill of satisfaction. He should know
that his name will go down to history as a man of particular eminence.
Yet, do you think that any of these early Spanish voyagers held that
thought? I doubt whether either De Soto, or Balboa, ever had any
extraordinary feeling of elation when they had feasted their eyes upon
the two great sheets of water, which, as far as we know, they were
the first white men to set eyes upon; the first, the Mississippi; the
second, the vast Pacific Ocean.
Once I thought that I had discovered a wide plateau upon the summit of
the Rockies. I knew that I was in an unexplored region which had never
been mapped, and, as I scrambled to a high eminence to look down upon
the headwater of a curving stream, I turned to my companion, exclaiming:
“This is magnificent! We are turning our eyes upon a scene of verdant
beauty upon which no one but the wild Cheyenne, or roving Blackfoot
warrior has ever gazed before! I feel thrilled! I feel awed! I feel in
the same way that Columbus must have felt, when—”
“He saw that tomato can lying down there in that sage bush,”
interrupted my companion, dryly, and sure enough—some accursed white
man had been there before me! It was a drop from the sublime to the
ridiculous!
But Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, when he stood upon the shores of the
Pacific, was aware that he was the first Spaniard to set eyes upon this
particular sheet of water, because he had learned from the Indians that
such an ocean existed, and, so far, no explorer had yet come to Spain
who had brought word of it. The accounts of the scene say that he was
thrilled and awed by the vision which came to him, and that, realizing,
when approaching the water, that he was about to view an ocean which
no other European had ever seen, he left his party behind him, so that
no one else should share his honor. This shows a selfishness which is
quite characteristic of these early Spanish adventurers and discoverers.
Balboa was not only selfish, but he was also daring. He was likewise a
fellow of considerable humor, as the following incident will illustrate.
The adventurer and explorer was tall, red-headed and athletic. He had
come from a good family in Spain, and, when a young man, had emigrated
to the New World, where he had settled as a farmer in Hispaniola.
Here he was soon overwhelmed with debt, as he was loose and prodigal
in his habits. His creditors pressed him severely and it came to be
quite a problem with him how to escape these persons who were hounding
his trail. But he was clever, and eluded their watchfulness by having
himself hauled in a cask from his farm to a vessel, which was about
to set sail. As this barrel was supposed to contain provisions, he
was soon safely out to sea. The contents of that cask were the most
animated that the sailors had ever seen, and, when the stowaway gained
the deck, shouting: “Good morning, Señors, I am going to be one of you
henceforth,” the Spanish stevedores nearly fainted from surprise.
In those days the Spaniards were continually making new settlements
near the Isthmus of Panama, and the venturesome Balboa had fallen in
with a body of adventurers who settled at Darien, a native village
upon the east coast of the Isthmus and near a great bay. There were
many natives at this town when the Castilians arrived, but, although
they put up a sharp fight in order to protect their village and their
possessions, they were routed by the navigators, who seized their
village, with a large quantity of food and cotton, and also a great
mass of gold ornaments, worth fifty thousand dollars. This place seemed
to be healthy and fertile, so, from this time forth, it became the
headquarters of the Spaniards in the New World.
As has seemed to be perpetually the case in Spanish America, when
these settlers were not fighting Indians, they were fighting among
themselves. There were two Governors in the country, at this period,
who had the sweet-sounding names of Encisco and Nicuesa, and, as is
customary with Spanish-American potentates, they were soon at daggers’
points with one another.
Balboa carefully stirred up the resentment between them, hoping that
there would come a revolution, after which he would step into the
Governorship, himself. Encisco declared that he had control over
the town and citizens of Darien, but Balboa contented that Darien
was situated in the territory assigned to Nicuesa and that Encisco
had no authority there, whatsoever. Stirred by the speeches of this
cask-traveler, the Spanish adventurers refused obedience to the pompous
Encisco.
Some one, at this moment, sent to Nombre de Dios, another settlement
on the coast, and advised Nicuesa to come down to Darien in order to
act as Governor. Balboa stirred up a revolution against him, while
he was on his way, declaring that his reputation was that of a harsh
administrator, that he ruled in a very high-handed fashion, and that he
would be a worse ruler than Encisco.
The hot Spanish blood began to boil in the inhabitants of Darien, and
had soon boiled to such a pitch that, when Nicuesa sailed into the
harbor, he was greeted by an angry rabble who yelled at him derisively,
refused to receive him as governor, and, when he attempted to march
into the city, attacked him with swords and drove him into the woods.
To the credit of Balboa be it said that he now interceded for the poor
fellow, so that no actual harm was done him, and, since he refused to
return to Nombre de Dios, he was presented with the worst vessel in the
harbor and the most unseaworthy, in which to return to Spain. This he
did with a few faithful followers, and was never heard of again in the
New World.
Now see how the crafty Vasco Nuñez de Balboa profited by this little
revolution, for, having deposed one of the governors, and having sent
away the other, the irascible inhabitants of the country chose Balboa
and a man named Lamudio to rule them as magistrates.
Encisco was, of course, furious at this and shortly sailed to Spain in
order to plead his own cause before the King; but Balboa was not to be
caught napping. He dispatched his friend, Lamudio, along at the same
time in order to offset the pleas of the angry Encisco, and, to further
aid and abet his own cause, secretly loaded him with a sound sum of
gold with which to ease the palm of the royal treasurer in old Madrid.
He was crafty, as you can well appreciate.
What do you think of this fellow now? From being a mere stowaway, and
an outcast who was hunted by his creditors and head over heels in debt,
this adventurous Spaniard, at one bound had risen to be a governor and
commander of troops. And in this new rôle he showed marked ability,
for he not only led his men well against the native chiefs, but also
managed to gain the confidence of these wild inhabitants of the
Isthmus, so that, one after another, they became his friends and his
allies.
Balboa kept up his expeditions into the unknown interior and more
than once was told that a vast ocean lay beyond the mountains which
jutted up from the table-land of the central portion of this strip of
country between North and South America. Several natives spoke of a
gray, glittering body of water, quite different from the Atlantic. The
Indians said that “it was far away,” so, as Balboa anticipated a long
journey to see and make certain of the native tales, he determined to
ask assistance from the King of Spain. In spite of the fact that he was
really a rebel and was ruling over a colony of revolutionists, we find
that he actually did send a letter to Ferdinand, asking for a thousand
men to be dispatched to him, so that he might undertake the discovery
of this fabled ocean. He was careful to send along some gold, for
nothing spoke more loudly with the Spanish sovereign than this.
The ambitious Balboa waited patiently for a reply from far distant
Spain; but, before it came, he received a very disquieting epistle from
Lamudio, his faithful friend whom he had dispatched to court to plead
his cause. Alas! Ferdinand had heard the complaint of the outraged
Encisco and had given judgment in his favor against the upstart and
revolutionist, Nuñez de Balboa. Worse yet! The adventurous Governor of
Darien was to be summoned to Spain in order that he might answer to the
King for his treatment of Nicuesa.
Balboa heard this with regret, also with some anger. He was clever
enough to see that only one course could save him, and that was to act
promptly, and at once; to find this ocean, and to travel to Spain with
the news of this discovery, first hand. He knew King Ferdinand well
enough to believe that, if successful in this venture, displeasure
would be turned into favor. The royal order had not yet come—he was
still free—so he determined to waste no moment in idleness.
This was to be no child’s play, for dense tropical forests were in
front of him; lofty mountain ranges; and deep rivers. There were also
vindictive Indian tribes in the path, and warriors who had no love for
those mail-clad white-skins. Balboa had less than two hundred soldiers
and these were not properly armed, yet, should he stay where he was,
ruin stared him in the face and disgrace confronted him. It was forward
and success, or a future of oblivion in old Madrid.
The morning of the first day of September, 1513, dawned bright and
sunny upon the harbor of Darien, as a small fleet of vessels sailed
away, with Balboa in command. With them were several savage bloodhounds
with which to chase and terrorize the Indians, and also a number of
friendly natives who were to act as guides and interpreters. The
journey up the coast was uneventful, and, having finally arrived at
Coyba, the domain of a friendly chief, the soldiers were disembarked,
the march was commenced, and all struck off cheerfully towards the high
mountains which could be seen towering up in the interior. It was hot
and the men suffered from the torrid blaze, because of their armor and
steel caps.
Keeping on, and struggling through the tropic vegetation, the
expedition made good progress, and reached a native village from which
the inhabitants had fled as soon as they had learned of the approach of
these adventurers. But it was quite necessary to obtain guides who knew
the wilderness in front, so Balboa sent some of his Indians to find the
chieftain, who had disappeared from this pleasantly situated little
collection of huts. The chief was not far away and allowed the native
path-finders to approach without waylaying them. He was later persuaded
to visit the camp of the Spaniards, and, after he had been feasted,
consented to furnish the eager Castilians with trained men who could
pilot them through the country.
“There,” said he, pointing to a lofty ridge, “is a mountain from the
top of which one may see the great waters upon the other side.”
Balboa’s eyes sparkled, for he was now within striking distance of his
goal and he saw success written upon the banner, which, waving aloft,
carried the blazoned arms of Castile. A number of the men were ill and
exhausted, so they were sent back. The remainder were eager to get
on, so, with renewed courage, the Spaniards again pressed through the
tropic foliage and tangled undergrowth.
Advancing for about thirty miles, they came to the territory of a
chieftain who was a deadly enemy of the native whose country they had
just traversed. He attacked the small Spanish band with vindictive
fury. The natives advanced with a great show of confidence,—yelling,
screeching, and discharging a veritable shower of arrows. The first
boom from the old-time guns made them cease their yelping and stop
still. The Castilians now advanced for a little sword-work, but they
were to find no brave foe who would engage in combat. The Indians fled.
As they did so, the bloodhounds were let go and many of the redskins
were overtaken and worried to death by these ferocious animals. In the
native village was found a large quantity of both gold and jewels.
Some of the Castilians had been struck by arrows, so they were now left
behind. The rest pressed on, for they had reached the foot of the large
mountain from the top of which the friendly chief had declared that one
could view the vast expanse of water beyond. All were cheerful and sang
songs from old Madrid in order to make the journey a more joyous one.
That night they camped near a spring of crystal water and in the
morning emerged from the forest at the foot of an eminence from which
their friends, the natives, told them that they could see the ocean.
Now note how Balboa did the same thing which another explorer was
criticized for doing many years later. He left his party behind, in
order that no one might share the honor of discovery, and climbed alone
to the mountain top. Up, up, he clambered, and at last stood upon the
summit. Hurrah! he had found what he had suffered great hardship and
privation to find. There before his eager gaze lay another ocean.
The adventurous explorer sank upon the soil and feasted his eyes upon
the scene. Beyond a wide, intervening belt of rocks and forest, and
seen through the swaying branches of green savannah trees, was that
vast, mysterious ocean of which Columbus had heard, but which no
European had yet beheld. It lay there gleaming, glistening, rising and
falling, beckoning to the adventurous to sail upon its surface and find
danger,—and treasure.
Balboa reclined there for a long time, dreaming, speculating, and
thanking his lucky star that he had at last seen this once fabled sheet
of water, for now he could go before King Ferdinand and be sure of
a cordial reception. Then he arose and climbed down the side of the
mountain to where his followers lay drowsing.
“Come, men!” he cried. “I have found it, the Mal de Sur (Southern
Ocean).”
The men scrambled to the summit in no time, and, when they, too, saw
the gray, rolling billows, they set up a wild cheering. The _Te Deum_
was chanted, a cross was erected, and, from this lofty eminence, Balboa
cried out that he took possession of this sheet of water, with all of
its islands and surrounding lands, in the name of his master, the King
of Spain. Then again a hymn was sung and all clambered down to the
lowland where they feasted right merrily. It had been an eventful hour
for these hard-marching, hard-mannered swashbucklers from Darien.
This was the twenty-sixth day of September, 1513, a day to be long
remembered by Balboa, for he felt a great weight lifted from his
shoulders as he thought of that letter which Lamudio had sent all the
way from Spain. His men had taken twenty days in crossing a strip of
territory scarcely forty miles in width, so you can well imagine how
tangled must have been this tropic underbrush. Yet, unmindful of their
hardships, they now set forth to journey to the very sea-coast, and to
there touch the water of this newly discovered Mal de Sur.
[Illustration: BALBOA TAKING POSSESSION OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN IN THE
NAME OF THE KING OF SPAIN]
The Castilians descended the slope of the high mountains and sought for
the rich kingdoms of which they had heard the natives speak. But they
found nothing remarkable save some wild thickets and impenetrable bogs.
Finally they passed through the territory of a warlike chieftain who
came out to stop their progress and forbade them to set foot within his
dominions. He drew up his followers in close array, and seemed to be
quite willing to fight; but a volley from the arquebusiers scattered
his followers like chaff before the wind. The chieftain soon gave
himself up, and, in order to gain the favor of the Spaniards, brought
them a quantity of gold. This pleased Balboa greatly and he tarried in
the native village for several days.
Then separate parties were dispatched to the sea in order to find
the best route by which it could be approached. One of these bands,
in which was a fellow named Alonzo Martin, reached the water before
any one else, and at a place where were several canoes. Alonzo jumped
into one of these, and, pushing it into the waves, cried out to his
companions:
“See, my friends, I am the first European to ever sail upon the new
ocean.”
Balboa followed soon afterwards, and, taking a banner upon which was
painted a picture of the Virgin and child, and under them the royal
arms of Spain, drew his sword, waded to his knees in the water, and
solemnly declared that this belonged to his sovereign, together with
all the adjacent lands from pole to pole, as long as the world should
endure and until the final day of judgment. Then he came back to the
beach where his few followers cheered lustily.
The climate was hot and muggy, but the Spaniards were keen and
enterprising and soon had explored a considerable area. The Indians
were friendly and gave them gifts of gold and pearls, of which a
quantity was set aside for shipment to Spain. Stories were told by the
natives of a country far to the south where was more gold than could be
ever seen in this particular land. The chattering brown-skinned Indians
also spoke of animals, resembling a deer, which the southern people
used for transporting their luggage. They showed the Spaniards a figure
molded in clay which was said to be the baggage-bearer of these natives
to the south. It seemed to be somewhat like a deer and somewhat like a
camel in appearance, in fact, was the llama, which Pizarro later came
upon in far-distant Peru. The tales of this country and these animals
stirred up many thoughts in the active mind of Balboa, and he conceived
the idea of sailing to that mysterious realm and taking possession of
it, even as he had seized the Isthmus of Panama.
The Spaniards had now seen about all that was to be seen, and it was
time to march across the mountains towards Darien. With their usual
cheerfulness the adventurers started for their home port, carrying
along a great quantity of gold and pearls, and also a stock of
provisions, which was transported by friendly natives. But, as they
tramped into the country, they secured more gold, and, because they
loaded the Indians with this instead of with food, they came near
dying of hunger. They met many hostile chiefs, among whom was a fellow
who had eighty wives. He was called Tubanama, and, although he put up a
stiff fight for his freedom, he was captured. His people ransomed him
by means of many golden ornaments, and, thus appeased, the Castilians
marched onward, naming this country Panama, after the wily chieftain.
Balboa was now prostrated by fever and had to be borne along in a
hammock by the natives. The heat and humidity of the swampy country
caused many of his followers to become ill and this delayed the march.
Still, the little caravan kept on, and, on the eighteenth day of
January, reached Darien, after an absence of four and a half months
in this journey of exploration. The entire population turned out to
welcome the discoverer of the Pacific, who returned laden with pearls,
golden ornaments and plates of embossed silver. There was also a long
train of captive natives who followed in the rear. The trip had been
a glorious success and all cheered lustily for Balboa: adventurer,
explorer, and first European to view the Pacific Ocean.
The time was now opportune for a missive to the King of Spain, for the
adventurous explorer knew that Ferdinand would not oust a man from
office who had added such a vast domain to his possessions. So he
dispatched a special envoy to Madrid, with a letter which gave a full
account of this overland journey. He also added a gift of glittering
pearls and one-fifth of the gold which he had secured, this being the
regular tax which the Spanish government imposed upon all its subjects.
The vessel was delayed in sailing, and the delay was fatal, for the
King of Spain had resolved to appoint another Governor of Panama in
place of Balboa, as he had listened to the story of Encisco and had
decided that he had been very unjustly treated by this upstart from
Hispaniola, who had escaped from his debtors in a cask. A man named
Pedrarias had been selected for the post and he was already on his way,
accompanied by a host of adventurers who had heard that Darien was a
country of enormous wealth. There were, in fact, fully two thousand
men, who were eager for adventure in this new-found territory.
Pedrarias, with his many followers, had scarcely put to sea, before a
ship sailed into the harbor of Seville bearing the envoy from Balboa.
He delivered his letters to Ferdinand, told him of the discovery of
this wonderful new ocean, and presented the King with the golden
vessels and trinkets which his faithful subject had sent him.
The King opened his eyes in wonder and surprise. Why, he might have
made an error after all! This fellow was a pretty good sort,—a
discoverer of new territory, of a new ocean, indeed. He had also sent
him considerable treasure. Well! Well! Well! The King decided that he
had acted somewhat hastily. He would send another missive to far-off
Darien, and would make the excellent Balboa a colleague of Pedrarias,
and entitled to equal honor. That would be proper recognition for all
that this man had done for the crown of Castile and should satisfy him,
without a doubt.
Meanwhile Pedrarias was sailing towards the Isthmus and eventually
landed at Darien, where, at the head of two thousand men in gorgeous
array, he made a triumphant entry into the town.
The cavaliers from Spain had expected to find a brilliant city, with
food in abundance and treasure piled high on every side. Instead of
this they found Balboa wearing a cotton suit and a Panama hat. His five
hundred seasoned veterans were clad in loose cotton clothes, and were
living in straw-thatched cabins on roots and cassava-bread. They also
had no wine, but were drinking water.
The newcomers were grievously disappointed at what they found here in
the colony. The climate was hot and sticky and fever soon carried off
a score of victims. Others sickened and died of various complaints,
so that, within a very short time, seven hundred of these dashing
cavaliers had passed to the great beyond. A ship-load of the gay blades
now sailed back to Spain, for they had seen all that they desired of
this new country. Another ship-load soon followed them to Cuba.
Several expeditions were sent into the interior after gold, but they
suffered ill fortune. One of these parties was defeated by the warlike
chieftain Tubanama. Another small army, sent out by Pedrarias, was
overwhelmed and butchered to a man: only one small Indian boy escaping
to tell the tale of the massacre. The friends of Balboa began to murmur
against this newly-appointed Governor and to cry out, that, should
their own leader be in control, there would be no such disasters.
Pedrarias realized that his own position was getting to be insecure,
and decided that he had better form an alliance with Balboa by giving
him one of his daughters in marriage. He suggested this to his rival
and the other accepted the offer gladly. Thus a written agreement was
drawn up and signed by both parties whereby the young lady was to be
joined in wedlock to Balboa just as soon as she could be brought from
Spain. All now looked favorable for a peaceful rule in the Isthmus.
Balboa’s restless mind soon conceived the idea of another
expedition,—or: a second journey to the Pacific coast. This he wished
to explore, and, since there were no vessels upon the other side of
the mountains, nor could he build any, should he attempt the feat,
he decided to cut and shape the timbers on the Atlantic coast and to
transport them across the Isthmus to the Pacific. A worthy undertaking
and one which took great courage and perseverance! Let us see how it
came out!
The Spaniards set diligently to work and soon had shaped the timbers
for two brigantines, with all the necessary spars and rigging. It was a
stupendous undertaking to transport these to the other shore, yet the
feat was accomplished. The timbers were carried over the mountains by
the miserable natives, who had been enslaved by the greedy Castilians,
and they did good work. Although hundreds perished on the journey, the
fact gave their master little concern.
Finally the caravan had arrived upon the Pacific coast, the ships were
put together, and floated upon the waters of the new-found ocean.
Hurray! The first European vessel had been launched upon the far away
Pacific and the proud flag of Spain floated from her masthead.
Balboa and his compatriots boarded their ships and headed south, bound
to sail to that far distant land of which the natives had told him. But
stormy winds were met with, so the men put back, sailed to the point
which they had started from, and determined to make two more vessels
before they would again depart for the land of the llama and glittering
gold. Alas! busy tongues had been working against Balboa since he had
left Darien and it was to go ill with this intrepid explorer.
The vessels were greatly in need of iron and of pitch, so it was
decided to send across the mountains for these. Balboa, himself
accompanied his men, and, as he advanced through the forest, was met
by a messenger who presented a letter from Governor Pedrarias. It was
couched in the friendliest of terms and bade him come at once to Darien
in order to confer with him upon matters of the utmost importance.
Balboa smiled, for matters were apparently going well with him.
The weak old Governor, however, had been stirred up by the enemies of
the discoverer of the Pacific, to such a point, that he was in a fit
of jealous rage. Some had told him that Balboa had no intention of
marrying his daughter, as he was about to take unto himself an Indian
girl as wife. Others whispered that he and his men were about to start
an independent government on the Pacific coast and throw off their
allegiance to the Spanish crown. Pedrarias determined to arrest this
successful adventurer as soon as he should arrive.
Balboa, meanwhile, was approaching the Atlantic sea-coast with a light
heart, and a feeling that all would go well with him. What was his
surprise when he was met by a cavalier called Pizarro, with an armed
force, and was told that, by orders of the Governor, he was a prisoner.
Yet he submitted quietly and was taken to Darien in irons. There
he found that the irascible Governor had determined to try him for
treason, and, if he could, to do away with him.
A trial was soon held, and the venturesome navigator was charged with
treasonable intentions. There was no evidence against him that was not
trumped-up for the occasion, yet he pleaded his innocence in vain.
“How preposterous is this charge of my determination to usurp the
power here,” said he. “I have four vessels and three hundred devoted
followers upon the other coast. Should I have so wished, I could have
sailed away far beyond the Governor’s reach, and could have founded a
colony of mine own in far-distant Peru. My coming here is good evidence
that I had no desire to disobey the summons of the Governor. I am
innocent of these so-called offenses.”
In spite of all that he could say, the judges found him guilty, yet
recommended mercy because of his wonderful discoveries and evident
patriotism for Spain. The Governor, however, would entertain no
suggestion of this nature.
“If he is guilty, let him die, and the sooner the better,” said the
irate Pedrarias, scowling. “To the block with him!”
So they took brave Balboa out and beheaded him in spite of all the
renown which he had won. The discoverer of the Pacific met his end with
calm indifference, and, as the news of this was borne to the people of
Darien, many wept tears for the man who had founded their city and had
brought much honor to the Spanish flag. Thus, in the very prime of his
manhood, perished one of the greatest explorers which the world has
produced, and, although he was foully and brutally murdered by his own
people, his fame will last as long as men love those of courage, of
daring, and of imagination.
HERNANDO CORTÉS:
CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.
(1485-1547)
_Lift high the golden goblets and quaff to our leader bold,_
_Who came from Cuba’s heated sands to gather Aztec gold,_
_His heart was big with courage; with his hands he seized the helm,_
_And he gathered the power and gained the dower of Montezuma’s realm._
_The muffled war drums mocked him, from the top of the white stone
wall,_
_And the maddened priests reviled him as they heard his trumpets
call._
_His Tlascalan allies trembled at the curse of the warriors red,_
_But the cry was ever “Onward!” to the city’s fountain head._
_To the top of the teocalli where the eagle banner floats,_
_Where the evil gods are smiling and Huitzilopochtli gloats;_
_Up! Up! our leader clambered. Up! Up! and won the prize,_
_Hurrah! Hurrah! for Cortés! Come victors, drink as we rise!_
SONG OF THE SPANISH CAVALIERS, 1519.
HERNANDO CORTÉS:
CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.
(1485-1547)
TO the brave belong the spoils. To him, who ventures much, sometimes
comes a great reward.
Here is the story of a man who determined to conquer an empire with
but a handful of followers,—and accomplished his purpose. Although it
seems to be a romance, it is a series of facts. Strange, wonderful,
almost unbelievable, yet true; for truth, they say, is sometimes
stranger than fiction. Listen, then, to this tale of as valiant a soul
as ever led fighting men on to victory!
Long, long ago, when fat King Henry the Eighth ruled over Merrie
England, and Charles the Fifth was King of Spain, there lived a young
Spanish cavalier called Hernando Cortés. He was a wild youth and did
not care for books or study. In fact, although his parents wished him
to be a lawyer and, when he was fourteen years of age, sent him to an
excellent school, he would not learn his lessons and so was asked to
leave the institution. Returning home, he greatly annoyed his good
father and mother by cutting up and playing all kinds of pranks, so
that they were glad to learn he had determined to join an expedition
which was setting out for that New World so lately discovered by
Columbus.
Shortly after this decision he fell from the top of a high wall, upon
which he had been climbing after wild grapes, and hurt himself so
grievously that he could not walk. It was therefore impossible for him
to join the adventurers who were heading for the New World. The ship
set sail without him.
For two years longer, young Cortés remained at home, and then, finding
that another expedition was about to set sail, he obtained permission
to join this fleet, bound for the West Indies. He was now nineteen
years of age and was extremely agile and sinewy. His face was pale, his
eyes piercing, and his hair raven black. He was looking for adventure
and was determined to bear himself right valiantly in whatever
situation he should find himself.
The fleet set sail, and arrived without accident at Hispaniola. Cortés
went immediately to see the Governor of the island, whom he had known
in Spain.
“You must remain here and become a good citizen,” said the Spanish
dignitary to him. “I will therefore present you with a grant of land
which I hope that you will cultivate.”
“I came to get gold, not to till the ground like a peasant,” said
Cortés. “And I am anxious for adventure.”
The Governor laughed.
“You had better become a farmer,” said he. “There is more money in
crops than there is in searching for gold.”
Six years passed, six rather monotonous years for Cortés, although he
occasionally joined some expeditions against the natives, where he
learned how to endure toil and danger, and became familiar with the
tactics of Indian warfare. At length, in 1511, when Diego Velasquez,
the Governor’s Lieutenant, undertook the conquest of Cuba, Cortés
gladly became one of his followers, and, throughout the expedition,
conducted himself right valiantly.
The Spaniards conquered the country; but when, later on, there was
distribution of lands and of offices, great discontent arose. Those
who believed that they had been ill-used, chose Cortés to journey back
to Hispaniola and lay their grievances before the higher authorities.
This reached the ears of Velasquez. He ordered that the youthful Cortés
should be bound, loaded with fetters, and thrown into prison. The act
was humiliating, but it was what those of Spanish blood were accustomed
to do to one another. Note, however, how the young man conducted
himself!
Cortés soon succeeded in escaping from the irons which encircled him,
and, letting himself down from the window of the jail, took refuge in
the nearest church, where he claimed that he could not be touched, as
he was under the protection of the priests. Velasquez heard of this,
was very angry, and stationed a guard near the sanctuary, with orders
to seize the youthful Spaniard, should he endeavor to get off. Cortés
was careless, wandered, one day, quite far from the church door, and
was immediately captured.
Velasquez determined to get rid of the young adventurer, this time,
so had him carried on board a ship which was to sail, next day, for
Hispaniola. But Cortés was again too clever for him. By great exertion
he managed to drag his feet through the rings which fettered him, and,
dropping silently over the side of the ship into a little boat, made
off in the darkness.
As he neared the shore, the water became so rough that the boat was
useless, so he dove overboard and swam the rest of the way. He was
tossed up upon the beach in a half-dazed condition; but finally arose,
made his way to the church, and hid himself in the sanctuary. Velasquez
had no idea where he had disappeared to.
Shortly after this the bold adventurer married a lady named Catalina
Xuarez whose family was friendly with the hard-hearted Velasquez. Peace
was therefore made with the Governor, and Cortés received a large
estate near St. Iago, where he lived for some years and even amassed a
considerable sum of money.
Here he was quietly residing when news came of an exploring expedition
which had set out in 1518 to find out what lay farther to the west. It
had been led by Grijalva, a nephew of Velasquez, and he had touched at
various places on the coast of Mexico. This was a land inhabited by
Indians called Aztecs who had named their country after “Mexitili”: war
god of their race.
These Aztecs, it seems, had originally come down from the north, and,
after many wanderings, had halted on the western border of a great lake
which lay in a long valley, situated at a height of about 7,500 feet
above the sea, so that the air was cool even in the hottest weather.
The valley, sixty odd miles in width, was surrounded by towering rocks
which were a protection from invasion.
The Aztecs were few in numbers when they first came to the shores of
the lake, but they increased rapidly in population and in power. Nearby
were other Indian tribes, and, as there was much warfare between them,
the Aztecs united themselves with the King of the Tezcucans in order
to aid him against a tribe called the Tepanics, who had invaded his
territory. The allies won, and, as a result, an agreement was made
between the states of Mexico, Tezcuco, and Tlacopan, that they should
support one another in the wars and divide all the spoils between them.
This alliance remained unbroken for over a hundred years.
Although fond of warfare and cruel in their tortures to prisoners, the
Aztecs had many wise laws and institutions, and were, in some respects,
highly civilized. They were governed by an Emperor, and, when he died,
another one was chosen by four nobles from among his sons or nephews.
The one preferred was obliged to have distinguished himself in war,
and he was not crowned until he had waged a successful campaign, had
captured large numbers of the enemy, and thus provided enough captives
to grace his entry into the capital.
The Aztecs worshiped thirteen principal gods, and more than two hundred
of less importance, whose temples were everywhere to be seen. At the
head of all the gods was the great Huitzilopochtli, whose temples were
in every city of the empire, and whose image was always loaded with
costly ornaments.
They also had a legend that there had once dwelt upon the earth the
great god, Quetzalcoatl, god of the air, under whose sway the Aztec
people had flourished and there had been peace and prosperity among
all men. He was said to have been tall in stature, with a white skin,
long, dark hair, and a flowing beard. He had, in fact, quite resembled
a Spaniard, and this led to the success which Cortés had with the
Mexicans, as you will presently see.
Quetzalcoatl, it was said, had in some way incurred the wrath of the
principal gods, so that he had been forced to leave the country. He had
turned towards the Gulf of Mexico, had stopped at the city of Cholula,
and had then departed in a magic boat, made of serpent’s skins, to the
fabled land of Tlapallan. Tradition had it that as he was leaving, he
had turned to the faithful ones who had followed him saying: “Watch and
wait for me, I shall come again.” For this reason the Aztecs were ever
on the lookout for the great and benevolent god of the white skin and
flowing beard.
As horses were not known, communication was held by means of couriers,
who, trained from childhood to run, traveled with amazing swiftness.
There were relay stations, or post houses, for these couriers, and
they would thus carry on their messages for a hundred to two hundred
miles in a day. In this manner the Emperor of the Aztecs, as he sat in
his palace in the City of Mexico, would feast upon fresh fish, which,
twenty-four hours before, had been caught in the Gulf of Mexico, over
two hundred miles away. Thus the news was transmitted when war was in
progress, and, as the messengers came along the highways, the people
knew whether the tidings were good or bad, by the dress which they
wore. If bad news, the runners were in black. If good, in gay colors.
The one great object of all expeditions made by the Aztecs was to
capture victims to be sacrificed upon their altars. They believed
that the soldier who fell in battle was transported at once to the
blissful regions of the sun, and consequently they fought with an utter
disregard for danger. The dress of the warriors was magnificent. Their
bodies were protected by a belt of quilted cotton, impervious to all
darts or arrows, and over this the chiefs wore mantles of gorgeous
feather-work. Their helmets were made of wood, fashioned so as to
resemble the head of some wild animal, and embellished with bits of
gold and of silver. Their banners were embroidered with gold and with
feather-work.
After the prisoners had been brought from the battle field they were
sacrificed to the gods in a most brutal and horrible manner. The poor
victim was held by five priests upon a huge, round, sacrificial stone;
while a sixth butcher, clothed in a scarlet mantle, plunged a long
knife into the breast of the writhing captive, and, cutting out the
heart, held it up first to the sun, which they worshiped, and then cast
it at the feet of the stone god. The dagger used was as sharp as a
razor and made of “itztli,” a volcanic substance as hard as flint. This
was not all. The body of the captive thus sacrificed was afterwards
given to the warrior who had taken him in battle, who thereupon gave
a great banquet and served him up among choice dishes and delicious
beverages, for the entertainment of his friends.
The Aztecs called their temples, _teocallis_, which means, “Houses of
God,” and there were several hundred of them in each of the principal
cities. They looked like Egyptian pyramids, and were divided into four
or five stories, each one smaller than the one below it. The ascent
was by a flight of steps. At the top was a broad space on which stood
a tower, from forty to fifty feet high, which contained the images of
the gods. Before such a tower was the stone of sacrifice and two lofty
altars on which the sacred fires burned continually. The floor was dyed
crimson from the blood of the helpless victims of the Aztec wars.
These people were unknown to the Spaniards, at this time, since of
them Grijalva sent back to Cuba only a few vague reports. It was said,
however, that the country was full of gold and of treasure.
When this news reached the ears of Cortés he was immediately fired with
a resolve to penetrate into this unknown land and to gain great renown
for himself. The Governor of Cuba, likewise, determined to send out
ships in order to follow up the discoveries of Grijalva. Who should be
put in command? Who was better, indeed, than Hernando Cortés!
The Spanish adventurer, with the utmost energy, at once began to
purchase and to fit out ships. He used all the money that he had saved
and as much as he could persuade his friends to lend him, so that it
was not long before he was in possession of six vessels, while three
hundred recruits had signified their intention of sailing with him.
But now the Spanish nature began to assert itself, for a jealousy and
distrust of Cortés took possession of the mind of Velasquez and he
determined to entrust the fleet to the hands of some one else. This
would have put an end to the aspirations of the youthful leader, had it
not been whispered to him that Velasquez was about to have him removed
from his place. He took care to checkmate the plans of his former
enemy. Summoning his officers secretly, he set sail that very night
with what supplies he was able to put his hands on, although his ships
were neither ready for a voyage, nor properly provisioned.
Morning dawned and Velasquez heard that the fleet was under weigh. He
rose hastily, galloped to the ocean, and found Cortés in a small boat
drifting near the shore. The commander of the expedition rowed back to
within speaking distance.
“This is a courteous way of taking leave of me, truly,” cried the angry
Governor.
“Pardon me,” answered the young mariner. “Time presses and there are
some things which should be done even before they are thought of.
Good-bye, my friend; may you live to see the day when I return a great
man.”
With that he paddled to the fleet and ordered all hands to sail away.
This was November the 18th., 1518.
Shortly after this the vessels anchored off Trinidad, a town on the
southern coast of Cuba. Here Cortés landed, set up his standard, and
invited all, who wished to join the expedition, to come on with him.
He told them that there was great wealth to be gained and attracted
many volunteers to his banner. Finally, in February, he had sufficient
reënforcements assembled, so he set sail. He had eleven vessels, one
hundred and ten sailors, five hundred and fifty-three soldiers, and two
hundred Indians. He likewise had sixteen horses, ten large guns, and
four falconets, or light cannon.
The fleet set out, touched upon the coast in several places, and then
reached the mouth of the Rio de Tabasco. The Spaniards landed and found
that the Indians were hostile and were drawn up in great force against
them. But Cortés had his cannon put ashore, ordered an attack, and soon
had captured both the town of Tabasco and also many of the Indians, who
saw the uselessness of further fighting, and consequently came humbly
to the Spaniards, bringing presents and slaves. Among the latter was a
beautiful Mexican girl called Malinche who had fallen into the hands
of the cacique of Tabasco through some traders, to whom she had been
sold by her mother. The Spaniards always called her Marina, and, as she
quickly learned to speak their language, she was soon of inestimable
assistance to them as an interpreter. Cortés made her his secretary and
always kept her near him in the exciting days which followed.
By means of his interpreter, Cortés found that these Indians were the
subjects of the emperor Montezuma, and were governed by Tenhtlile, one
of the great nobles. He determined to send word to the potentate who
ruled over this country and to let him know that he and his followers
wished to see him.
Upon the day following, Tenhtlile arrived at the Spanish camp,
accompanied by a numerous retinue. The Indian chieftain asked about the
country of the strangers and the object of their visit.
“We are subjects of a powerful monarch beyond the seas,” replied the
leader of the adventurers, “who has heard of the greatness of your
Mexican Emperor and has sent me with a present to be delivered to him
in person, as a token of his good will. I would be glad, therefore, to
go immediately to his capital and trust that you can guide me there.”
This seemed to annoy the Aztec noble, for he replied in a haughty
manner:
“How is it that you have been here only two days, and yet demand to
see my Emperor? I am surprised to learn that there lives another
monarch as powerful as Montezuma, but, if it is true that you are his
representative, I will communicate with my Emperor and will forward to
him the royal present sent by you. Meanwhile, pray receive the gifts
which I have brought for you.”
As he spoke, a number of slaves came forward and deposited ten loads of
gorgeous feather-work, and a wicker basket filled with golden ornaments.
Cortés was greatly pleased with this show of friendliness, and ordered
his own soldiers to bring forth the presents for Montezuma. These were
an armchair richly carved and painted, a crimson cloth cap with a gold
medal, and a quantity of collars, bracelets and other ornaments of cut
glass, which much surprised the Aztecs, as this was a country where
there was no glass, and hence these were more valuable than emeralds or
sapphires.
“I see over there a soldier with a shining thing upon his head,” now
said Tenhtlile. “I should much like to send that to Montezuma, for it
will remind him of the one worn by the god Quetzalcoatl. Can I not have
it?”
“Certainly,” replied Cortes, “and I trust that you will ask the Emperor
to return it filled with the gold dust of the country, so that I may
compare it with that which is in mine own. If you must know it, my kind
friend, we Spaniards are troubled with a disease of the heart for which
gold is the only sure remedy. I trust, therefore, that you will send us
all that you can.”
While he was speaking, Cortés observed that one of the Indians was
busy with a pencil, and, on looking at his work, saw that he had made
a sketch of the Spaniards, their costumes, and weapons. This was the
celebrated picture writing, for which the Aztecs were famous.
“You see,” said Tenhtlile, “the Emperor can thus get an excellent idea
of you and your followers.”
“Bring out the cavalry,” cried Cortes, at this. “We will show you our
wonderful horses.”
The appearance of the snorting steeds filled the natives with
astonishment, and, when the General ordered a cannon to be fired off,
the natives ran away in alarm. The painters, however, were very busy,
and faithfully recorded everything which the Spaniards possessed, even
putting in a picture of the ships as they swung at anchor.
At length the Aztecs departed, with much bowing and scraping. Their
chief, Tenhtlile, seemed to be in a good humor and left orders with his
people to supply the Spanish general with all that he might require
until further instructions from the Emperor Montezuma.
Meanwhile great excitement was taking place in the Mexican capital, for
many seemed to think that the great god, Quetzalcoatl, had returned
to earth and was about to revisit the scenes of his former life.
Montezuma, himself, seemed to be undecided how to act. When the picture
writings, showing the Spanish invaders, reached him, he summoned the
Kings of Tezcuco and Tlacopan in order to consult with them as to how
the strangers should be received. The three differed in their ideas,
but finally Montezuma resolved to send a rich present to Cortés which
would impress him with a high idea of the Emperor’s wealth and his
grandeur. At the same time he determined to forbid him to approach the
capital.
Eight days passed away—eight long days for Cortés and his men, as they
were suffering greatly from the intense heat—and then the embassy,
accompanied by the governor, Tenhtlile, arrived at the camp, and
presented Cortés with the magnificent presents sent by Montezuma.
After the usual salute, the slaves unrolled some delicately woven mats
and displayed the gifts which the Aztec Emperor had sent. There were
shields, helmets, and cuirasses embossed with plates and ornaments of
pure gold; with collars and bracelets of the same precious metal. There
were also sandals, fans, plumes, and crests of variegated feathers,
wrought with gold and silver thread, and sprinkled with pearls and with
precious stones. There were golden birds and animals; curtain coverlets
and robes of cotton. There were more than thirty loads of cotton cloth,
and finally, the helmet which Cortés had sent, loaded to the brim with
grains of pure gold.
This rich treasure fired the zeal and ardor of the Spaniards; yet
they controlled themselves, and expressed admiration only for two
circular plates of gold and of silver as large as carriage wheels. One,
representing the sun, was richly carved with plants and with animals,
and was worth a fabulous sum of money.
When the voyageurs had received the presents, the ambassadors
courteously delivered their message, to the effect that Montezuma had
great pleasure in holding communication with such a powerful monarch
as the King of Spain; but could grant no personal interview to his
soldiers. That the way to the capital was too long and dangerous for
the white men to attempt. Therefore the strangers must return to the
land from which they had come.
Cortés received this message with coldness, and, turning to his
officers, said:
“This is, indeed, a rich and powerful Monarch, and he does well to
speak in this manner; but I am determined to visit him in his capital.”
He then bade good-by to the Aztec ambassadors, who shortly withdrew.
That night every neighboring hut was deserted by the natives, and the
Spaniards were left quite alone in the wilderness. They prepared for an
attack, but none came.
The soldiers now became mutinous, saying that it was about time they
returned with what treasure they had already collected. Cortés had
difficulty in keeping them out of the boats, but now an event occurred
which aided him very materially in his design to march to the City of
Mexico, a design which he had long ago determined upon.
Five Indians entered the camp who wore rings of gold and bright blue
gems in their ears and nostrils. A gold leaf, delicately wrought, was
attached to their under lip. These were not Aztecs and explained that
they came from Cempoalla, the capital of a tribe called the Totonacs,
who had been lately conquered by the Aztecs, and who greatly resented
the oppressions of these bloodthirsty tribesmen. The fame of the
Spaniards, said they, had reached their leader, who had sent them to
request the strangers to visit him, and to aid him in throwing off the
domination of the Aztecs.
It can be easily seen that Cortés was delighted to hear this. He saw
that discontent in the provinces conquered by Montezuma could be turned
to his own advantage, and that, by allying himself to these Totonacs,
he might be able to conquer Montezuma himself. He therefore dismissed
the tribesmen with many presents, promising that he would soon visit
their city.
Not long afterwards, the army set out to march northward, to a place
where it had been decided to build a town. The men crossed a river
in rafts and broken canoes, which they found on the bank, and soon
came to a very different kind of country than that which they had left
behind them. There were wide plains covered with green grass and groves
of palm trees, among which were deer and flocks of pheasants and wild
turkeys. The trees were loaded with fruits and with beautiful clusters
of bowers, while gayly plumaged birds fluttered in the branches. There
were gardens and orchards on either side of the road. As the Spanish
soldiers passed along, they were met by crowds of friendly natives,
who mingled fearlessly with the soldiers, and hung garlands of flowers
around the neck of the General’s horse.
The cacique, or chief of the Totonacs, received Cortés with great
courtesy, and assigned his soldiers to a neighboring temple, where they
were well supplied with provisions. Cortés, himself, was presented with
several vessels of gold and robes of fine cotton.
Upon the following day the General paid the cacique a visit, and, with
the aid of Marina, held a long talk with him. He promised to aid the
Totonacs against Montezuma. This pleased the chief greatly, and he
promised to assist the Spaniards in every way that he could. Cortés
returned to his troops, ordered an advance, and soon reached the town
of Chiahuitztla, which stood upon a crag overlooking the valley.
As the Spaniards were halted in the center of the village, five men
entered the market place where they were standing. Their dark, glossy
hair was tied in a knot upon the top of their heads, and they carried
bunches of sweet-smelling flowers in their hands. Their attendants
bore wands, or fans, to sweep away the flies and insects from their
lordly masters, who, by their disdainful looks, showed that they
considered themselves to be superior to all around them. They brushed
by the Spaniards, scarcely seeming to notice them, and were immediately
joined by the Totonac chiefs, who seemed anxious to gain their favor.
Cortés was much astonished, and, turning to Marina, asked what this
meant.
“These are Aztec nobles,” the girl replied, “and they are empowered to
receive tribute for Montezuma.”
“What are they saying?” asked he.
“They bring word that Montezuma is very angry with the Totonacs for
entertaining you and your men without his permission,” Marina replied.
“And, as a punishment, he has demanded twenty young men and maidens to
be sacrificed to the gods.”
Cortés was much irritated by this and told the Totonacs that they
should not only refuse this demand but should seize the Aztec nobles
and throw them into prison. This was done, but Cortés had the true
Spanish character and now played a part of duplicity which was
characteristic of the men from Seville. He had two of the captured
Aztecs released, brought them before him, and very cunningly led them
to believe that he was sorry to learn that they had been thrown into
jail. He told them that he would help them to escape, and begged them
to tell Montezuma that the great Emperor was held in high regard by
the Spaniards. The two nobles were then hastily dispatched to the
port where lay the Spanish vessels. They were taken on board, landed
secretly upon the coast, and allowed to depart for the court of
Montezuma. The Totonacs were very angry when they found that two of
their prisoners had escaped, and determined to sacrifice the remainder;
but Cortés interfered, had them taken to his vessels, and soon allowed
them to join their companions. In this way he secured the friendship of
Montezuma, while still appearing as the friend of the Totonacs.
Messengers were sent to all the other Totonac cities, telling the
natives of the defiance that had been shown the Emperor, and bidding
them, also, to refuse to pay tribute to Montezuma. The Indians soon
came flocking into the town in order to confer with the powerful
strangers, and thus Cortes managed to embroil them with the Emperor. At
the same time he made them all swear allegiance to the Spanish King.
The Spaniards now busied themselves in building a town, for they had
to have some place to store their belongings and also to retreat to in
case of disaster. The Indians helped them willingly, so they soon had
an excellent little village: the first one in new Spain.
When the Aztec nobles who had been set free reached the city of
Mexico, and told Montezuma of the treatment which they had received,
the Emperor of the Aztecs felt rather kindly disposed towards the
Spaniards, and sent an embassy consisting of two young nephews and
four of his chief nobles. They bore a princely gift of gold, richly
embroidered cotton mantles, and robes of feather work. On coming before
Cortés, the envoys presented Montezuma’s thanks to him for the courtesy
he had shown the captive nobles.
“We believe that you are the long-looked-for strangers who are to
return with the god Quetzalcoatl,” said the ambassadors, “and are
therefore of the same lineage as ourselves. Therefore, out of deference
to you, we will spare the Totonacs; but our day of vengeance against
them will soon come.”
Nothing was said about not being allowed to journey to the capital,
so Cortés gave these Aztecs presents, as usual, and told them that
he intended to soon visit Montezuma in the city of Mexico, when all
misunderstanding between them would be adjusted. The Totonacs were
amazed and awed by the influence which the Spaniards seemed to exert
upon the Aztecs, and felt safe from further incursions by the terrible
Emperor.
The bold and resolute Cortés was now determined to march to Mexico
City, itself, to oust Montezuma, and to obtain possession of his
country and his treasures. But he knew that the Governor of Cuba
was his enemy, and also knew that, should he not send news of his
discoveries to the King of Spain, he would be seriously interfered
with by Velasquez. Consequently he prepared a letter setting forth the
extent and magnitude of his discoveries, gave up all his own treasure
which he had obtained from the natives, and persuaded his soldiers to
do the same. This was placed in the hands of some of his followers
who were given a ship, were bidden god-speed, and were told to sail
to Spain. Cortés besought the King to make him Governor over all the
new territory, so that he could add the great Indian Empire to the
possessions of the Spanish crown.
Very soon after the departure of the treasure ship, Cortés discovered
that there was a conspiracy among his followers, who had seized one
of the ships, had stored provisions and water on board, and were just
about to set sail for Cuba. One of the traitors repented of the part
he had taken in the plot, betrayed it to Cortés, and thus made evident
the extent of the conspiracy. In consequence, the ringleaders were
hanged, and the Spanish commander determined to take the bold step of
destroying the ships without the knowledge of his army. Accordingly he
marched his entire force to Cempoalla, where he told his plan to a few
of his devoted adherents, who approved of it. Nine of the ships were
sunk; after the sails, masts, iron, and all movable fittings had been
brought ashore.
When this act became known, it caused the greatest consternation among
the Spaniards. They murmured loudly, and mutiny was threatened. Cortés,
however, was equal to the emergency. He managed to reassure them, to
persuade them that he had only done what was best for them, and so
cleverly told them of the fame and treasure which they were on the eve
of gaining, that not one of them accepted the chance of returning to
Cuba in the remaining ship.
August the sixteenth, 1519, was a day ushered in by brilliant sunshine,
as if the fates were friendly to the daring Spanish adventurer. Cortés
was now ready to advance into the interior, for he had obtained from
the cacique of Cempoalla, thirteen hundred warriors and a thousand
porters to carry his baggage and drag onward the guns. His own force
amounted to four hundred foot and fifteen horses, with seven pieces of
artillery. Surely a small and insignificant army with which to attempt
to conquer this vast and populous land!
The army set out upon its mission of conquest, and, at the close of the
second day, reached Xalapa, a mountain town, and from which they looked
back upon one of the grandest views which they had ever seen. Around
were towering mountains; below lay the flat region, a gay confusion
of meadows, streams, and flowering forests, with now and again a tiny
Indian village dotting the brilliant landscape. Far, far away, to the
eastward, was a faint line of light upon the horizon, which told them
that there rolled the ocean which they had lately crossed, and beyond
which slumbered their country, which many never expected to see again.
To the south a mighty mountain, called “Orizaba,” poked its head into
the air, covered with a mantle of snow; while toward the southwest the
Sierra Madre, with a dark belt of pine trees waving in the breeze,
stretched with a long line of shadowy hills into the distance.
Onward and upward crawled the little army, pushing and jerking the guns
over the rocks and crevices, and finally, on the fourth day, arrived at
the town of Naulinco. The Indian inhabitants entertained the soldiers
with great hospitality, for they were friendly with the Totonacs.
Cortés endeavored to persuade them to give up their savage idol
worship, and, through a priest, Father Almedo, had them instructed
in the teachings of Christianity and had a cross erected for future
worship.
The troops pressed onward, entered a narrow, ragged valley, called “the
Bishop’s Pass,” and, as they toiled around a bare, volcanic mountain,
a snow-storm descended upon them with great violence. The Indians, who
were natives of the flat region, suffered dreadfully, and several of
them died by the way. The Spaniards, however, were protected by their
thick coats of cotton, and thus bore up well beneath the change of
climate.
For three days the little band pressed forward over the rugged mountain
trail,—then emerged into an open country with a more genial climate.
They had reached the great table-land which spreads out for hundreds of
miles along the crests of the mountains, more than seven thousand feet
above the level of the sea. Carefully cultivated fields of corn lay
around them, and, as they trudged forward, they came upon a populous
city made of substantial buildings of stone and of lime.
The army rested here for four or five days and then went on through a
broad valley shaded by lofty trees and watered by a splendid river. An
unbroken line of Indian dwellings extended for several leagues, and, on
a knoll, stood a town of four to five thousand inhabitants, commanded
by a fortress with walls and trenches. The army halted here and the
troops were met with friendly treatment.
As the soldiers refreshed themselves, Cortés made inquiries concerning
the route which he was to follow. The Indians, who were traveling
with him, told him to go through Tlascala: a small republic which had
always managed to maintain its independence against Mexican arms. The
tribesmen had been friendly with the Totonac allies of the Spaniards,
and had the reputation of being frank, fearless, and trustworthy.
Cortés decided to attempt to gain their good will, so he dispatched
four or five of his principal Cempoallan allies to the Tlascalan
capital with a cap of crimson cloth and a sword and cross-bow, as
gifts. They were to ask permission to pass through the land and were
to express admiration for the valor and the courage of the Tlascalans
in resisting the Aztecs for such a long time. Three days after the
departure of these envoys, the army resumed its march.
At last they reached the border of the Tlascalan territory, and were
much surprised to find a strong fortification in their path. This was a
stone wall nine feet high and twenty feet thick, with a parapet a foot
and a half broad at the top, for the protection of those who defended
the causeway. It had only one opening in the center, made by two
semi-circular lines of wall which overlapped each other. As it extended
for more than two miles and was built of natural blocks of stone, it
could be easily seen, that, had the Tlascalans cared to dispute the
passage of the Spanish invaders, not only would they have inflicted
great damage upon them, but would undoubtedly have forced them to
retire towards the sea-coast.
Fortune favored the Spanish command. No Tlascalans were there to hurl
javelins and arrows into their ranks, so they pressed onward towards
the capital.
“Tlascala” means the land of bread. The Tlascalans were an
agricultural people and their country was very fertile. They had
previously lived upon the western shore of Lake Tezcuco, a part of
Mexico which was not very productive; but their neighbors had driven
them from their original holdings and were now very jealous of their
prosperity: so jealous, in fact, that the Tlascalans repeatedly had
to defend themselves against their attacks. Montezuma, himself, had
endeavored to conquer them, but they had defeated an army sent against
them and commanded by the Emperor’s favorite son. This had highly
enraged the great ruler and he repeatedly harassed them with his
troops, so that they were certainly glad to see some one journey to
their land with whom they could ally themselves. They had heard about
the Spaniards and their victorious advance, but they had not expected
that they would venture their way. They were therefore much embarrassed
when they saw the white-skinned strangers at their very gates, and
demanding a passage through the fertile agricultural regions which they
had so often defended with their lives.
While the Tlascalan chiefs were in the council chamber, trying to
make up their minds what to do, Cortés and his men were advancing
through their country. As they threaded their way through a steep
gorge, they saw before them a small party of Indians armed with swords
and bucklers. They fled as the Spaniards approached, but the men
from Castile spurred their horses, and overtook them. As they were
endeavoring to parley with them, the Indians turned and furiously
assaulted those in armor. A stiff fight ensued and the native force
would soon have been cut to pieces had not a body of several thousand
Indians appeared, who rushed to their rescue. Cortés hastily dispatched
a messenger to bring up his infantry and stood off the overwhelming
masses of the enemy as best he could. The Indians fought like tigers,
dragged to the ground one cavalier, who afterwards died of his wounds,
and killed two horses by cutting through their necks with great
broadswords. This was a serious loss to the Spaniards, as their steeds
were very few, and they needed them, not only for battle, but also for
hauling their possessions over the rough mountain trails.
Arrows were whizzing fast around the ears of the horsemen in the
advance, when the infantry approached. Hastily falling into position,
the soldiers delivered a volley from their crossbows, which not only
astonished the enemy, but threw them into great confusion. The natives
soon beat a hasty retreat, and the road towards the Tlascalan capital
was left open to the adventurers.
This was not the only battle with the Tlascalans. Several other bands
of natives were defeated as the Spanish pressed forward, so that, when
the daring Cortés sent an embassy to the Tlascalan capital, his men
received a most respectful hearing from the dejected natives, A free
passage through the Tlascalan possessions was offered to these white
gods and they were furnished with food.
Meanwhile, what of Montezuma?
As the terrible strangers advanced towards his capital, news of all of
their doings had been faithfully reported to him by his runners, or
messengers. He learned, with dismay, that these fair-skinned soldiers
were defeating all of the natives that were sent against them. He saw
that they were practically invincible, and that, before very long,
they would be knocking at the very gates of his capital. With great
satisfaction he had heard of their taking the road through the land
of the Tlascalans, for he knew these Indians to be fiercely warlike,
and he hoped that the white gods (so called) were only mortal men, and
would prove to be no match for the natives who had defeated his own
best troops. Alas! He now learned that even these gallant warriors had
succumbed to the prowess of the strangers.
In his alarm and uncertainty, he dispatched five great nobles of
his court, attended by two hundred slaves, to bear to Cortés a gift
consisting of three thousand ounces of gold and several hundred robes
of cotton and of feather-work.
The Spanish leader received the fawning natives with respectful
attention. They laid the gifts at his feet and told him that they had
come to offer him Montezuma’s congratulations upon his many victories.
They also stated that they wished to express their regret that the
Emperor could not receive them at the capital, for his own population
was so unruly, that, should they enter the city, he could not answer
for their safety. He therefore respectfully requested Cortés to retire
to the sea-coast.
“I wish to express my greatest respect for Montezuma,” replied the
artful Cortés, “and I wish that I could do as he desires. But I have
received commands from my own sovereign to visit the City of Mexico,
and it would go ill with me should I disobey the desires of the mighty
Monarch of Spain. Tell the great and powerful Montezuma that I will
some day repay him for his wonderful presents. And tell him, also, that
I will be soon at the gates of Mexico City, where I hope to be received
in a style befitting the Monarch whom I represent.”
The Mexican ambassadors withdrew, but they were sadly displeased
with the turn which matters were taking. They saw a firm friendship
established between the Tlascalans—their mortal enemies—and the
dreaded Spaniards. They also saw that nothing could deter the white
men from coming forward. So, with gloomy faces and lowered eyes, they
departed for the City of Mexico.
The Spanish troops were well treated by the Tlascalans, who feasted
and entertained them in the four quarters of their city. But amid all
these friendly demonstrations the General never relaxed, for a second,
the discipline of the camp, and no soldier was allowed to leave his
quarters without special permission.
Montezuma, meanwhile, had received the message from the doughty Spanish
invader and was more frightened than even before. Had he exhibited
a good fighting spirit, and had he been determined to expel the
Spaniards, he could have raised a hundred thousand fighting men to
overwhelm them as they advanced upon his capital. But he was lacking in
resolution. Deep in his soul he had a suspicion that Cortes was really
the god Quetzalcoatl, come back again to Mexico in order to bring
peace and prosperity with him. In his heart he feared, that, should he
kill the invader, he would be sacrificing one of the gods. And thus he
vacillated, hesitated, and, at length, seeing that he could not buy off
the invader with money, or frighten him by means of threats, determined
to conciliate him. So he sent word that he invited the Spaniards to
visit him in his capital, and requested them to take a route through
the friendly city of Cholula, where arrangements were being made, by
his orders, for their reception. He also besought Cortés to make no
alliance with the Tlascalans; whom he called base, treacherous, and
barbarous.
But now came startling events, yet events which pleased the daring
Cortés greatly, for the conqueror was never so happy as when in the
thick of fighting.
After a short consultation among the officers, the Spanish army moved
forward on the road to Cholula. It was an ancient and populous place,
six leagues to the south of Tlascala. Its inhabitants excelled in
the art of working in metals, and in manufacturing cotton cloth and
delicate pottery. They were not as bloodthirsty as the surrounding
tribes, but were distinguished more for the skill in the arts than
for their warlike attainments. Here it is supposed that the god
Quetzalcoatl had paused on his way to the coast, many years before,
and to his honor a great pyramid had been erected, upon which was a
gorgeous temple and a statue of the fair-skinned god, bedecked with
gold and with jewels.
Six thousand Tlascalan warriors allied themselves with Cortés in his
march towards the capital. As the troops drew near the town of Cholula
they were met by swarms of men, women, and children, all eager to catch
a glimpse of these wonderful strangers. An immense number of priests,
swinging censers, mingled with the crowd, and, as the Spaniards moved
onward, they were decorated with garlands of flowers; while musicians
filled the air with strange, melodious symphonies. The strangers were
given lodgings in the court of one of the many _teocallis_ and were
well supplied with provisions.
All seemed to be going well, and the Spaniards were highly pleased
with their reception, but soon the scene changed. Messengers arrived
from Montezuma, who told Cortés that his approach occasioned much
disquietude to their royal master. They hinted that he would not be
well received, and then had a separate conference with the Cholulans.
When they departed they took one of them off with them. The Cholulans
now kept away from the Spanish camp, and, when pressed for an
explanation, made many excuses, saying that they were ill. The supply
of provisions ran short, and, when asked to bring more corn, the
Indians answered that they were unable to do so, as it was very scarce.
The doughty General of the Spanish forces became alarmed at this sudden
change. His allies, the Cempoallans, now told him, that, in wandering
about the city, they had seen several streets barricaded, and, in some
places, they saw where holes had been dug and a sharp stake planted
upright in each. Branches had been strewn over these pits in order to
conceal them. They also announced that the flat roofs of the houses
were being stored with stones and with other missiles.
Cortés prepared for an attack, particularly as his Tlascalan
allies announced, that, in a far distant quarter of the town, a
number of children had been sacrificed to the war god: the mighty
Huitzilopochtli. They reported, too, that numbers of the people had
taken their wives and children out of the city, as if to get away from
the battle which was imminent.
Shortly after this, Marina made a discovery which proved that the
Spaniards were in a most precarious position. The wife of one of the
Cholulan caciques had taken a great fancy to the Mexican girl, and had
continually urged her to visit her house; hinting, rather carefully and
very mysteriously, that she would, in this way, escape a great danger
which threatened the Spaniards. Marina appeared to be delighted with
this proposal, and pretended to be glad to have a chance of escaping
from the white men. She, at length, won the confidence of the Cholulan
lady, who revealed the entire plot to her, a plot which had originated
with Montezuma, and by which he hoped to get rid of these terrible
strangers.
A force of twenty thousand Mexicans, said the wife of the cacique,
were already near the city, and were to fall upon the Spaniards and
their allies as they left. They were to be assisted by the Cholulans,
who had stored great quantities of rocks and arrows to hurl upon the
unsuspecting white men as they defiled along the roadway leading to the
City of Mexico. After the fair-faced strangers had been captured, some
were to be left with the Cholulans for sacrificial victims to their
gods; the rest were to be sent in chains to Montezuma.
Marina rushed to the gallant Cortés with the news of this impending
disaster to his army. The General at once ordered the cacique’s wife to
be seized, and she repeated to him the same story that she had told to
Marina. The Spanish leader was not slow to act. Two native priests were
immediately summoned into his presence, one of whom was a person of
much prominence. By courteous treatment and many presents, he secured
from them a complete confirmation of the story which Marina had told
him. There was no time to be lost and Cortés was a man of action.
Sending for the more prominent Cholulans, Cortés asked them to supply
him with two thousand porters, next morning, as he had determined to
move his army away from the town, and would need this many additional
men, in order to transport his luggage and the many presents which had
been given to him. After some consultation, the chiefs decided to give
him this number of men, as it would assist them in their own plan of
annihilating the invaders of their country. But Cortés had made up his
mind how to act, and intended to annihilate the Cholulans when once
he had them in his power. Night fell upon the city and every Spanish
soldier lay down fully armed. The sentinels were doubled, but all
remained quiet.
When the first streak of dawn reddened the east, next morning, Cortés
was ahorse, and was directing the movements of his little band of
heroic Spaniards. He placed the greater portion of his small force in
the large oblong court in the center of the town. These were lined up
in a hollow square, facing the center, all fully armed, with pouches
filled with bullets, and quite ready for anything that might occur. A
strong guard was placed at each of the three gates leading from the
town, and a number of the best soldiers were stationed in charge of
the cannon, which were pointed so as to command all the more prominent
roads leading to the center of the native stronghold.
Hardly had this disposition of the troops been made than the Cholulan
caciques arrived, bringing a much larger body of porters than Cortés
had demanded. They were placed within the hollow square formed by the
Castilian infantry.
The Spanish leader now took the caciques aside and said in a stern tone:
“Know, O Chiefs, that I have learned of your conspiracy to destroy me
and my followers. I am fully aware that you intend to fall upon me
and my men when we leave town, and I am determined to deal a just and
summary vengeance upon you.”
The Cholulans were thunderstruck, and gazed with awe upon these
strangers, who seemed to have the power of reading their inmost
thoughts. They made no attempt to deny the accusation, but tried to
excuse themselves by throwing the blame upon Montezuma.
“The great Emperor made us do it,” said they.
“I do not care whether he made you do it or not,” answered the
irritated leader of these Spanish conquerors. “For daring to think that
you could capture and defeat me and my men, I will put you all to
death, so that it will teach any others who may have designs upon my
person, in the future, to leave me alone. ‘Fire!’”
As he spoke a cannon growled out an ominous roar. It was the signal for
which the Spanish soldiers had been anxiously awaiting.
In an instant the muskets and crossbows were leveled at the startled
Cholulans, as they stood crowded together in the center of the market
place. A crash of firearms,—and many of them lay groaning upon the
pavement. Then, with a fierce and vindictive yell, the Spanish soldiers
rushed at the natives with their swords, and mowed them down as they
stood. The Indians had heard nothing of what was going on, and offered
but slight resistance to the armored men of Castile.
Wild shrieks and yells arose above the din of firearms, as the massacre
took place, and, attracted by the noise, the Cholulans from outside
began a furious assault upon the Spanish soldiers. The heavy cannon
opened fire upon them as they approached, and, when they advanced in
close formation, many were swept off their feet. The cavalrymen now
charged into their midst and hewed a passageway of blood in the lane of
human beings. The Tlascalan allies of the Spaniards fell upon the rear
of the battling Cholulans. Thus, harassed upon every side, the Cholulan
townsfolk could no longer maintain their ground. They fled, some to the
buildings nearby, others to the temples of the gods.
Headed by several priests, one strong body of fugitives ran to the
largest of all the temples, the great _teocalli_. As the Spaniards
came storming up the steps, these rained down stones, javelins, and
burning arrows upon them. In spite of this shower of missiles, the
soldiers pressed hard upon the heels of the fugitives, set fire to
the wooden tower, and cheered wildly when they saw the natives throw
themselves headlong from the parapet.
All was confusion and slaughter in the city of Cholula. The Spaniards
and Tlascalans plundered and burned wherever they went, and, as the
Tlascalans seemed only to want clothes and provisions, the adventurers
under Cortés secured all the gold and jewels that they cared to have.
Thus fire, plunder, and murder went on for many hours, until the
General yielded to the entreaties of the Cholulan chiefs, who had
been saved from the massacre, and, calling off his men, put an end to
further violence. By degrees the tumult was appeased. The terrible
vengeance of the invaders made a great impression upon the natives,
but no one trembled more than did Montezuma on his throne within the
mountains.
The Mexican Emperor, in fact, felt his empire melting away from him.
His former vassals, on every hand, were sending envoys to the Spanish
camp to tender their allegiance to the crown of Castile, and to
attempt to secure the favor of the conqueror by rich gifts of gold
and of slaves. Montezuma made up his mind to send another embassy to
Cortés, the members of which were to impress upon him the fact that the
Emperor had nothing to do with the conspiracy at Cholula. The envoys
carried splendid presents of golden vessels and ornaments, including
artificial birds made in imitation of turkeys with their plumage worked
in gold, and also fifteen hundred robes of delicate cotton cloth. When
they spoke to Cortés they told him that Montezuma had no knowledge
of the plot to attack the Spaniards after they had left the town of
Cholula and that the Aztec force had been sent there, not to assist
in annihilating the Spaniards, but to quell a disturbance in the
neighborhood.
Cortés, who was not fooled by this series of lies by Montezuma,
remained quietly in the confines of Cholula. He restored the city again
to order, seized upon the great temple, or _teocalli_, of which all the
woodwork had been burned, and built a church out of the stones which
remained. He also opened the cages in which hundreds of captives were
kept until the day should come when they were to be sacrificed. After
this had been done, he called up the chiefs of his Tlascalan allies,
told them that the armies would now march toward the City of Mexico,
and, upon the day following, set his own troops in motion.
He moved slowly, and soon was met by another embassy from the Emperor,
consisting of several Aztec noblemen who brought a rich gift, indeed,
and also a message from the trembling Montezuma to the effect that he
would give four loads of gold to the General, each year, and one load
to each of his Captains, if he would turn back from the city and would
leave him alone. Cortés was surprised at this show of weakness and also
pleased that the Aztec sovereign did not attack him. He replied that
he could not return to the King of Spain without first visiting the
Emperor at his capital.
“We Spaniards,” said he, “are advancing in
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