The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus (Vol. II)

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The escape of the prisoners occasioned great anxiety to the admiral,
fearing they would stimulate their countrymen to some violent act of
vengeance; and he trembled for the safety of his brother. Still this
painful mystery reigned over the land. The boat of Diego Tristan did not
return, and the raging surf prevented all communication. At length, one
Pedro Ledesma, a pilot of Seville, a man of about forty-five years of age,
and of great strength of body and mind, offered, if the boat would take
him to the edge of the surf, to swim to shore, and bring off news. He had
been piqued by the achievement of the Indian captives, in swimming to land
at a league's distance, in defiance of sea and surf. "Surely," he said,
"if they dare venture so much to procure their individual liberties, I
ought to brave at least a part of the danger, to save the lives of so many
companions." His offer was gladly accepted by the admiral, and was boldly
accomplished. The boat approached with him as near to the surf as safety
would permit, where it was to await his return. Here, stripping himself,
he plunged into the sea, and after buffeting for some time with the
breakers, sometimes rising upon their surges, sometimes buried beneath
them and dashed upon the sand, he succeeded in reaching the shore.

He found his countrymen shut up in their forlorn fortress, beleaguered by
savage foes, and learnt the tragical fate of Diego Tristan and his
companions. Many of the Spaniards, in their horror and despair, had thrown
off all subordination, refused to assist in any measure that had in view a
continuance in this place, and thought of nothing but escape. When they
beheld Ledesma, a messenger from the ships, they surrounded him with
frantic eagerness, urging him to implore the admiral to take them on
board, and not abandon them on a coast where their destruction was
inevitable. They were preparing canoes to take them to the ships, when the
weather should moderate, the boat of the caravel being too small; and
swore that, if the admiral refused to take them on board, they would
embark in the caravel, as soon as it could be extricated from the river,
and abandon themselves to the mercy of the seas, rather than remain upon
that fatal coast.

Having heard all that his forlorn countrymen had to say, and communicated
with the Adelantado and his officers, Ledesma set out on his perilous
return. He again braved the surf and the breakers, reached the boat which
was waiting for him, and was conveyed back to the ships. The disastrous
tidings from the land filled the heart of the admiral with grief and
alarm. To leave his brother on shore would be to expose him to the mutiny
of his own men, and the ferocity of the savages. He could spare no
reinforcement from his ships, the crews being so much weakened by the loss
of Tristan and his companions. Rather than the settlement should be broken
up, he would gladly have joined the Adelantado with all his people; but in
such case how could intelligence be conveyed to the sovereigns of this
important discovery, and how could supplies be obtained from Spain? There
appeared no alternative, therefore, but to embark all the people, abandon
the settlement for the present, and return at some future day, with a
force competent to take secure possession of the country. [169] The state
of the weather rendered the practicability even of this plan doubtful. The
wind continued high, the sea rough, and no boat could pass between the
squadron and the land. The situation of the ships was itself a matter of
extreme solicitude. Feebly manned, crazed by storms, and ready to fall to
pieces from the ravages of the teredo, they were anchored on a lee shore,
with a boisterous wind and sea, in a climate subject to tempests, and
where the least augmentation of the weather might drive them among the
breakers. Every hour increased the anxiety of Columbus for his brother,
his people, and his ships, and each hour appeared to render the impending
dangers more imminent. Days of constant perturbation, and nights of
sleepless anxiety, preyed upon a constitution broken by age, by maladies,
and hardships, and produced a fever of the mind, in which he was visited
by one of those mental hallucinations deemed by him mysterious and
supernatural. In a letter to the sovereigns he gives a solemn account of
a kind of vision by which he was comforted in a dismal night, when full
of despondency and tossing on a couch of pain:----

"Wearied and sighing," says he, "I fell into a slumber, when I heard a
piteous voice saying to me, 'O fool, and slow to believe and serve thy
God, who is the God of all! What did he more for Moses, or for his servant
David, than he has done for thee? From the time of thy birth he has ever
had thee under his peculiar care. When he saw thee of a fitting age, he
made thy name to resound marvelously throughout the earth, and thou wert
obeyed in many lands, and didst acquire honorable fame among Christians.
Of the gates of the Ocean Sea, shut up with such mighty chains, he
delivered thee the keys; the Indies, those wealthy regions of the world,
he gave thee for thine own, and empowered thee to dispose of them to
others, according to thy pleasure. What did he more for the great people
of Israel when he led them forth from Egypt? Or for David, whom, from
being a shepherd, he made a king in Judea? Turn to him, then, and
acknowledge thine error; his mercy is infinite. He has many and vast
inheritances yet in reserve. Fear not to seek them. Thine age shall be no
impediment to any great undertaking. Abraham was above an hundred years
when he begat Isaac; and was Sarah youthful? Thou urgest despondingly for
succor. Answer! who hath afflicted thee so much, and so many times?--God,
or the world? The privileges and promises which God hath made thee he hath
never broken; neither hath he said, after having received thy services,
that his meaning was different, and to be understood in a different sense.
He performs to the very letter. He fulfills all that he promises, and with
increase. Such is his custom. I have shown thee what thy creator hath done
for thee, and what he doeth for all. The present is the reward of the
toils and perils thou hast endured in serving others.' I heard all this,"
adds Columbus, "as one almost dead, and had no power to reply to words so
true, excepting to weep for my errors. Whoever it was that spake to me,
finished by saying, 'Fear not! Confide! All these tribulations are written
in marble, and not without cause.'"

Such is the singular statement which Columbus gave to the sovereigns of
his supposed vision. It has been suggested that this was a mere ingenious
fiction, adroitly devised by him to convey a lesson to his prince; but
such an idea is inconsistent with his character. He was too deeply imbued
with awe of the Deity, and with reverence for his sovereign, to make use
of such an artifice. The words here spoken to him by the supposed voice,
are truths which dwelt upon his mind, and grieved his spirit during his
waking hours. It is natural that they should recur vividly and coherently
in his feverish dreams; and in recalling and relating a dream one is
unconsciously apt to give it a little coherency. Besides, Columbus had a
solemn belief that he was a peculiar instrument in the hands of
Providence, which, together with a deep tinge of superstition, common to
the age, made him prone to mistake every striking dream for a revelation.
He is not to be measured by the same standard with ordinary men in
ordinary circumstances. It is difficult for the mind to realize his
situation, and to conceive the exaltations of spirit to which he must have
been subjected. The artless manner in which, in his letter to the
sovereigns, he mingles up the rhapsodies and dreams of his imagination,
with simple facts, and sound practical observations, pouring them forth
with a kind of scriptural solemnity and poetry of language, is one of the
most striking illustrations of a character richly compounded of
extraordinary and apparently contradictory elements.

Immediately after this supposed vision, and after a duration of nine days,
the boisterous weather subsided, the sea became calm, and the
communication with the land was restored. It was found impossible to
extricate the remaining caravel from the river; but every exertion was
made to bring off the people, and the property, before there should be a
return of bad weather. In this, the exertions of the zealous Diego Mendez
were eminently efficient. He had been for some days preparing for such an
emergency. Cutting up the sails of the caravel, he made great sacks to
receive the biscuit. He lashed two Indian canoes together with spars, so
that they could not be overturned by the waves, and made a platform on
them capable of sustaining a great burden. This kind of raft was laden
repeatedly with the stores, arms, and ammunition, which had been left on
shore, and with the furniture of the caravel, which was entirely
dismantled. When well freighted, it was towed by the boat to the ships. In
this way, by constant and sleepless exertions, in the space of two days,
almost every thing of value was transported on board the squadron, and
little else left than the hull of the caravel, stranded, decayed, and
rotting in the river. Diego Mendez superintended the whole embarkation
with unwearied watchfulness and activity. He, and five companions, were
the last to leave the shore, remaining all night at their perilous post,
and embarking in the morning with the last cargo of effects.

Nothing could equal the transports of the Spaniards, when they found
themselves once more on board of the ships, and saw a space of ocean
between them and those forests which had lately seemed destined to be
their graves. The joy of their comrades seemed little inferior to their
own; and the perils and hardships which yet surrounded them, were
forgotten for a time in mutual congratulations. The admiral was so much
impressed with a sense of the high services rendered by Diego Mendez,
throughout the late time of danger and disaster, that he gave him the
command of the caravel, vacant by the death of the unfortunate Diego
Tristan. [170]

Chapter X.

Departure from the Coast of Veragua.--Arrival at Jamaica.--Stranding of
the Ships.

[1503.]

The wind at length becoming favorable, Columbus set sail, towards the end
of April, from the disastrous coast of Veragua. The wretched condition of
the ships, the enfeebled state of the crews, and the scarcity of
provisions, determined him to make the best of his way to Hispaniola,
where he might refit his vessels and procure the necessary supplies for
the voyage to Europe. To the surprise of his pilot and crews, however, on
making sail, he stood again along the coast to the eastward, instead of
steering north, which they considered the direct route to Hispaniola. They
fancied that he intended to proceed immediately for Spain, and murmured
loudly at the madness of attempting so long a voyage, with ships destitute
of stores and consumed by the worms. Columbus and his brother, however,
had studied the navigation of those seas with a more observant and
experienced eye. They considered it advisable to gain a considerable
distance to the east, before standing across for Hispaniola, to avoid
being swept away, far below their destined port, by the strong currents
setting constantly to the west. [171] The admiral, however, did not impart
his reasons to the pilots, being anxious to keep the knowledge of his
routes as much to himself as possible, seeing that there were so many
adventurers crowding into the field, and ready to follow on his track. He
even took from the mariners their charts, [172] and boasts, in a letter to
the sovereigns, that none of his pilots would be able to retrace the route
to and from Veragua, nor to describe where it was situated.

Disregarding the murmurs of his men, therefore, he continued along the
coast eastward as far as Puerto Bello. Here he was obliged to leave one of
the caravels, being so pierced by worms, that it was impossible to keep
her afloat. All the crews were now crowded into two caravels, and these
were little better than mere wrecks. The utmost exertions were necessary
to keep them free from water; while the incessant labor of the pumps bore
hard on men enfeebled by scanty diet, and dejected by various hardships.
Continuing onward, they passed Port Retrete, and a number of islands to
which the admiral gave the name of Las Barbas, now termed the Mulatas, a
little beyond Point Blas. Here he supposed that he had arrived at the
province of Mangi in the territories of the Grand Khan, described by Marco
Polo as adjoining to Cathay. [173] He continued on about ten leagues
farther, until he approached the entrance of what is at present called
the Gulf of Darien. Here he had a consultation with his captains and
pilots, who remonstrated at his persisting in this struggle against
contrary winds and currents, representing the lamentable plight of the
ships, and the infirm state of the crews. [174] Bidding farewell,
therefore, to the main-land, he stood northward on the 1st of May, in
quest of Hispaniola. As the wind was easterly, with a strong current
setting to the west, he kept as near the wind as possible. So little did
his pilots know of their situation, that they supposed themselves to the
east of the Caribbee Islands, whereas the admiral feared that, with all
his exertions, he should fall to the westward of Hispaniola. [175] His
apprehensions proved to be well founded; for, on the 10th of the month,
he came in sight of two small low islands to the northwest of
Hispaniola, to which, from the great quantities of tortoises seen about
them, he gave the name of the Tortugas; they are now known as the Caymans.
Passing wide of these, and continuing directly north, he found himself, on
the 30th of May, among the cluster of islands on the south side of Cuba,
to which he had formerly given the name of the Queen's Gardens; having
been carried between eight and nine degrees west of his destined port.
Here he cast anchor near one of the Keys, about ten leagues from the main
island. His crews were suffering excessively through scanty provisions and
great fatigue; nothing was left of the sea-stores but a little biscuit,
oil, and vinegar; and they were obliged to labor incessantly at the pumps,
to keep the vessels afloat. They had scarcely anchored at these islands,
when there came on, at midnight, a sudden tempest, of such violence, that,
according to the strong expression of Columbus, it seemed as if the world
would dissolve. [176] They lost three of their anchors almost immediately,
and the caravel Bermuda was driven with such violence upon the ship of
the admiral, that the bow of the one, and the stern of the other, were
greatly shattered. The sea running high, and the wind being boisterous,
the vessels chafed and injured each other dreadfully, and it was with
great difficulty that they were separated. One anchor only remained to
the admiral's ship, and this saved him from being driven upon the rocks;
but at daylight the cable was found nearly worn asunder. Had the darkness
continued an hour longer, he could scarcely have escaped shipwreck. [177]

At the end of six days, the weather having moderated, he resumed his
course, standing eastward for Hispaniola: "his people," as he says,
"dismayed and down-hearted; almost all his anchors lost, and his vessels
bored as full of holes as a honeycomb." After struggling against contrary
winds and the usual currents from the east, he reached Cape Cruz, and
anchored at a village in the province of Macaca, [178] where he had
touched in 1494, in his voyage along the southern coast of Cuba. Here he
was detained by head winds for several days, during which he was supplied
with cassava bread by the natives. Making sail again, he endeavored to
beat up to Hispaniola; but every effort was in vain. The winds and
currents continued adverse; the leaks continually gained upon his
vessels, though the pumps were kept incessantly going, and the seamen
even baled the water out with buckets and kettles. The admiral now stood,
in despair, for the island of Jamaica, to seek some secure port; for
there was imminent danger of foundering at sea. On the eve of St. John,
the 23d of June, they put into Puerto Bueno, now called Dry Harbor, but
met with none of the natives from whom they could obtain provisions, nor
was there any fresh water to be had in the neighborhood. Suffering from
hunger and thirst, they sailed eastward, on the following day, to another
harbor, to which the admiral on his first visit to the island had given
the name of Port Santa Gloria.

Here, at last, Columbus had to give up his long and arduous struggle
against the unremitting persecution of the elements. His ships, reduced to
mere wrecks, could no longer keep the sea, and were ready to sink even in
port. He ordered them, therefore, to be run aground, within a bow-shot of
the shore, and fastened together, side by side. They soon filled with
water to the decks. Thatched cabins were then erected at the prow and
stern for the accommodation of the crews, and the wreck was placed in the
best possible state of defence. Thus castled in the sea, he trusted to be
able to repel any sudden attack of the natives, and at the same time to
keep his men from roving about the neighborhood and indulging in their
usual excesses. No one was allowed to go on shore without especial
license, and the utmost precaution was taken to prevent any offence being
given to the Indians. Any exasperation of them might be fatal to the
Spaniards in their present forlorn situation. A firebrand thrown into
their wooden fortress might wrap it in flames, and leave them defenceless
amidst hostile thousands.

Book XVI.

Chapter I.

Arrangement of Diego Mendez with the Caciques for Supplies of Provisions.
--Sent to San Domingo by Columbus in Quest of Relief.

[1503.]

The island of Jamaica was extremely populous and fertile; and the harbor
soon swarmed with Indians, who brought provisions to barter with the
Spaniards. To prevent any disputes in purchasing or sharing these
supplies, two persons were appointed to superintend all bargains, and the
provisions thus obtained were divided every evening among the people. This
arrangement had a happy effect in promoting a peaceful intercourse. The
stores thus furnished, however, coming from a limited neighborhood of
improvident beings, were not sufficient for the necessities of the
Spaniards, and were so irregular as often to leave them in pinching want.
They feared, too, that the neighborhood might soon be exhausted, in which
case they should be reduced to famine. In this emergency, Diego Mendez
stepped forward with his accustomed zeal, and volunteered to set off, with
three men, on a foraging expedition about the island. His offer being
gladly accepted by the admiral, he departed with his comrades well armed.
He was every where treated with the utmost kindness by the natives. They
took him to their houses, set meat and drink before him and his
companions, and performed all the rites of savage hospitality. Mendez made
an arrangement with the cacique of a numerous tribe, that his subjects
should hunt and fish, and make cassava bread, and bring a quantity of
provisions every day to the harbor. They were to receive, in exchange,
knives, combs, beads, fishhooks, hawks'-bells, and other articles, from a
Spaniard, who was to reside among them for that purpose. The agreement
being made, Mendez dispatched one of his comrades to apprise the admiral.
He then pursued his journey three leagues farther, when he made a similar
arrangement, and dispatched another of his companions to the admiral.
Proceeding onward, about thirteen leagues from the ships, he arrived at
the residence of another cacique, called Huarco, where he was generously
entertained. The cacique ordered his subjects to bring a large quantity of
provisions, for which Mendez paid him on the spot, and made arrangements
for a like supply at stated intervals. He dispatched his third companion
with this supply to the admiral, requesting, as usual, that an agent might
be sent to receive and pay for the regular deliveries of provisions.

Mendez was now left alone, but he was fond of any enterprise that gave
individual distinction. He requested of the cacique two Indians to
accompany him to the end of the island; one to carry his provisions, and
the other to bear the hammac, or cotton net in which he slept. These being
granted, he pushed resolutely forward along the coast, until he reached
the eastern extremity of Jamaica. Here he found a powerful cacique of the
name of Ameyro. Mendez had buoyant spirits, great address, and an
ingratiating manner with the savages. He and the cacique became great
friends, exchanged names, which is a kind of token of brotherhood, and
Mendez engaged him to furnish provisions to the ships. He then bought an
excellent canoe of the cacique, for which he gave a splendid brass basin,
a short frock or cassock, and one of the two shirts which formed his stock
of linen. The cacique furnished him with six Indians to navigate his bark,
and they parted mutually well pleased. Diego Mendez coasted his way back,
touching at the various places where he had made his arrangements. He
found the Spanish agents already arrived at them, loaded his canoe with
provisions, and returned in triumph to the harbor, where he was received
with acclamations by his comrades, and with open arms by the admiral. The
provisions he brought were a most seasonable supply, for the Spaniards
were absolutely fasting; and thenceforward Indians arrived daily, well
laden, from the marts which he had established. [179]

The immediate wants of his people being thus provided for, Columbus
revolved in his anxious mind the means of getting from this island. His
ships were beyond the possibility of repair, and there was no hope of any
chance sail arriving to his relief, on the shores of a savage island, in
an unfrequented sea. The most likely measure appeared to be, to send
notice of his situation to Ovando, the governor at San Domingo, entreating
him to dispatch a vessel to his relief. But how was this message to be
conveyed? The distance between Jamaica and Hispaniola was forty leagues,
across a gulf swept by contrary currents; there were no means of
transporting a messenger, except in the light canoes of the savages; and
who would undertake so hazardous a voyage in a frail bark of the kind?
Suddenly the idea of Diego Mendez, and the canoe he had recently
purchased, presented itself to the mind of Columbus. He knew the ardor and
intrepidity of Mendez, and his love of distinction by any hazardous
exploit. Taking him aside, therefore, he addressed him in a manner
calculated both to stimulate his zeal, and flatter his self-love. Mendez
himself gives an artless account of this interesting conversation, which
is full of character.

"Diego Mendez, my son," said the venerable admiral, "none of those whom I
have here understand the great peril in which we are placed, excepting you
and myself. We are few in number, and these savage Indians are many, and
of fickle and irritable natures. On the least provocation they may throw
firebrands from the shore, and consume us in our straw-thatched cabins.
The arrangement which you have made with them for provisions, and which at
present they fulfill so cheerfully, to-morrow they may break in their
caprice, and may refuse to bring us any thing; nor have we the means to
compel them by force, but are entirely at their pleasure. I have thought
of a remedy, if it meets with your views. In this canoe, which you have
purchased, some one may pass over to Hispaniola, and procure a ship, by
which we may all be delivered from this great peril into which we have
fallen. Tell me your opinion on the matter."

"To this," says Diego Mendez, "I replied: 'Senor, the danger in which we
are placed, I well know, is far greater than is easily conceived. As to
passing from this island to Hispaniola, in so small a vessel as a canoe, I
hold it not merely difficult, but impossible; since it is necessary to
traverse a gulf of forty leagues, and between islands where the sea is
extremely impetuous, and seldom in repose. I know not who there is would
adventure upon so extreme a peril.'"

Columbus made no reply, but from his looks and the nature of his silence,
Mendez plainly perceived himself to be the person whom the admiral had in
view; "Whereupon," continues he, "I added: 'Senor, I have many times put
my life in peril of death to save you and all those who are here, and God
has hitherto preserved me in a miraculous manner. There are, nevertheless,
murmurers, who say that your Excellency intrusts to me all affairs wherein
honor is to be gained, while there are others in your company who would
execute them as well as I do. Therefore I beg that you would summon all
the people, and propose this enterprise to them, to see if among them
there is any one who will undertake it, which I doubt. If all decline it,
I will then come forward and risk my life in your service, as I many times
have done.'" [180]