The Islands of Unwisdom Page 4

  ‘Old sailors may decry the men of today as being inferior to our ancestors who drove their deep furrows through the eastern seas. Those were bold fellows, I grant you, but how little they achieved in the Western hemisphere, an almost limitless field of conquest and exploration, and what a galaxy of brilliant navigators we can here display! In the front rank of these stands Christopher Columbus who, despised and rejected by many crowned heads, set sail at last under the patronage of the Catholic Sovereigns Isabella and Ferdinand, and revealed this continent of America, the firm foundation upon which so many important edifices, alike spiritual as temporal, have since been raised. He was succeeded by Hernan Cortez, the conqueror of Mexico, famed for his huge extensions of Empire and his prodigious deeds. Here, to Peru, came Francisco Pizarro and his glorious little band that was to conquer such rich and populous provinces. Next, Ferdinand Magellan, a loyal servant of Spain, though a Portuguese, who would have sailed completely around the world, had he not met an untimely and less fortunate end than his brave spirit deserved. Next, Vasco da Gama sought remote regions and opened up to his nation, and so to ours, the commerce of the East. Audacious, it need not be denied, have been the feats of the Englishmen Drake, Candish and our prisoner Hawkins who, envious of Magellan’s fame, traversed the straits called after him and disturbed the seas which for many years had been secure and peaceful under our sway and trident.

  ‘All this notwithstanding, I behold in you a discoverer neither less distinguished nor less famous than any I have named. In every country, throughout history, the leadership of great expeditions is entrusted to men who, by reason either of their genius, the dignity of their bearing, the purity of their lives, or their authority and tact, have acquired universal fame as just arbiters of peace and war; the prosperous conclusion of the tasks in which they were engaged depending upon their exercise of consummate wisdom. All these qualities, I am assured, are combined in your person. Your actions confirm the choice made by His Majesty for so great a service to God and to him: namely, the pacification and conversion of the infidels who inhabit the distant Isles of Solomon, hidden in the great gulf that divides the coasts of New Spain and Peru from those of the Philippines and Japan. In my own mind there is not the least doubt that the government which you are about to establish will be glorious and triumphant, and that the people under your sway will remain faithful; so that great praise may already be awarded you in anticipation of your signal industry, prudence and valour.’

  ***

  His speech concluded, the Viceroy tossed the scroll aside, offered his hand to be kissed and then said in brisk tones: ‘My friend, I have two more things to add. First, let me repeat that your flotilla will clear the port of Callao by Friday, three days hence. The second: that I shall hold you to the undertaking made by your Lady. Now goodbye and God-speed! The Admiral-General of the South Seas will deputize for me at the port, and the day of your departure will be proclaimed a public holiday.’

  He rose and disappeared quickly through the small door. Don Alvaro, on the point of delivering a prepared speech of gratitude, was taken aback. He blinked, stared, then slowly replaced his plumed hat and was about to retire, when my godfather politely detained him with the warning that he must expect to stay a little while yet.

  ‘Why, man, the audience is at an end!’

  ‘That is so, Don Alvaro, but the Viceroy’s court-painter has been ordered to depict you standing there against the open window with these letters patent under your arm, modestly listening to the Viceroy’s speech. Your flotilla, by a pictorial licence, will be shown riding at anchor behind you. The canvas is somewhat spacious.’

  ‘But the work will take months to complete,’ the General gasped, ‘with the Marquis so overwhelmed by business.’

  ‘No, no,’ said my godfather soothingly. ‘You misunderstand me. The audience-chamber is already fixed on the canvas, and so are the figures of most of the lords spiritual and temporal who, as you learned from his Excellency’s gracious speech, were present in spirit on this auspicious occasion, though unfortunately not in person. The picture will be completed, as a witness to posterity of the great honour conferred on you, when his Grace the Bishop and his Excellency himself can spare the time to pose; and I promise you it will be a very fine and life-like work.’

  ‘Alas, I have a thousand matters of the greatest urgency to settle before nightfall. Why could not the painter have begun during my long wait in the ante-room?’

  ‘Come, Don Alvaro,’ said my godfather politely, ‘if you go to him at once, it will soon be done. His Excellency’s orders are precise and not to be flouted. But perhaps you would prefer first to eat something a little more substantial than these thin, sweet biscuits?’

  ‘O blessed Saint Lorenzo on your red-hot griddle!’ groaned the General, ‘teach me to suffer in silence for just a few hours longer!’

  Chapter 3

  THE VICAR’S BAGGAGE

  Father Antonio, our Chaplain, went below to examine the quarters which the Vicar, Father Juan de la Espinosa, was to share with him. Though one who cared little for bodily comforts, he found the cabin so cramped, dark and stifling, that he recoiled in dismay. It seemed to him a studied affront to the Church that this kennel should have been allotted to a frail old man, who had given his life to good works and dangerous missions among the Indians of the interior. Indeed, it bordered upon sacrilege: was this place fit to house the sacred accessories of religion, blessed by the Bishop of Lima, that were to be conveyed to the Isles of Solomon—the chalice, the pyx, the vestments, the Holy Scriptures, and the elements of the Blessed Sacrament?

  In a royal ship, as he remembered from his voyage to Peru many years before, there were two secular services: the naval and the military. Here in the San Geronimo the Chief Pilot, as master, commanded the crew, the Colonel commanded the troops. The General controlled both services and, once the flotilla was on the high seas, his powers equalled those of the Viceroy of Peru, to whom he then ceased to owe allegiance; being answerable only to the Indies Council at Madrid, presided over by the King. Yet in matters spiritual not only the Chief Pilot and all his sailors, the Colonel and all his troops, but even the General must defer to the Vicar, or suffer the consequences. King Philip himself, the mightiest and most absolute monarch that the world had ever known, owed spiritual vassalage to the Pope, who held the keys of Heaven and Hell in direct succession from Saint Peter, who received them from Our Saviour. The honour of the Church demanded that the Vicar should be as well lodged as any man on board.

  The good Father told the slaves who followed him with the ecclesiastical baggage to carry it back to the upper deck while he went to lodge a complaint with the Purser, in the hope of securing an exchange for his superior with some naval or military officer who had been better served.

  Coming to the master’s cabin (which Don Alvaro, in expectation of huge discoveries, grandiloquently styled ‘the Chart-room’), he asked a page: ‘Whose fine quarters are these, my child?’

  ‘That’s where the Chief Pilot lives, if it please your Reverence.’

  ‘It pleases me very well,’ said Father Antonio, and muttered to himself: ‘Perhaps he will agree to an exchange; he has a name for piety unusual in a man of his calling.’

  Pedro Fernandez had unpacked his sea-chest, and was now stowing his nautical instruments in racks built for them by the carpenter. He made his obeisance to the Chaplain and kissed the silver cross he wore.

  ‘My son,’ said Father Antonio, ‘I bring you a message from my superior, the Vicar. It is this. Two rich merchants of Lima have lately been tried by the Supreme Court of the Holy Inquisition, and found guilty of a relapse into the damnable Lutheran heresy—dogs returned to their vomit…’

  ‘Alas, reverend Father,’ cried the Chief Pilot, drawing him into the Chart-room, closing the door and falling on his knees. ‘Have you come to reproach me? How did you learn that I was implicated in their wickedness?’

  ‘Your conscience accuses you, not I; but let me
hear your confession, my son.’

  ‘Bless me, Father, I have sinned. I confess that I have had an understanding with a customs clerk in this port, and have smuggled in small quantities of goods at the request of friends, and for a fee this clerk passes them. That is common practice here, and since he is paid very little and cannot support his family without taking bribes, it has never troubled my conscience to do what others do. But the fault of which I accuse myself was that I agreed to bring in a weighty parcel for these Lutherans, whom I knew to have been already once convicted of heresy; it was said to contain ledgers and bills of account and, though I knew that these are not contraband, I smothered my suspicions and did what they asked of me. Afterwards, when I learned that I had been instrumental in smuggling copies of the Holy Scriptures printed at Amsterdam in the vulgar tongue, I felt as though a shot had furrowed my scalp and carried away my bonnet. What if the Inspector of Customs had caught me with the books? God was very merciful; indeed, I might well have burned in these heretics’ place. Absolve me, Father.’

  ‘My son, what have you done with the gains of this abominable traffic?’

  ‘I have made restitution to God, reverend Father. I dropped every maravedi of it into the alms-box of the Clarissas.’

  ‘You are absolved,’ said Father Antonio. ‘For a penance you shall repeat five Paternosters with five Ave Marias, and pray for my intention. Now make a good act of contrition…. As I was about to tell you: of these two heretics, one has confessed and repented under torture; he is to be granted his life, though forfeiting his whole fortune. The other remains obstinate in error, averring that since die he must, he will die in the Lutheran faith; and since his body must burn he will not be strangled first, but will wear the beard of furze.’

  ‘How did you say, reverend Father?’

  ‘The customs of your country are what they may be, but in Peru, as in Spain, before we light the fire at an Act of Faith, the cry goes up: “Let the dog’s beard be made!”, which is then done by thrusting flaming furze against the heretic’s chin, until it is charred to a coal. That is indeed a cruel sight, and a fearful reminder of what lies in store for those who live scandalously and die unconfessed. The flames of Purgatory are a thousand times hotter than any that can be lighted on this earth, and they burn without respite until Judgement Day. As an act of mortification, the Vicar has vowed to stand beside the pyre this coming Sunday, and greatly desires the ship’s company to march to Lima behind him. Such a spectacle would strangle at birth many an infant sin born of wantonness, which otherwise might grow to manhood and deliver a soul to torment. Therefore, my son, he asks you to do all you can to postpone our sailing until the Monday, and God will reward you.’

  ‘Ah, but reverend Father,’ said the Chief Pilot, ‘I am under orders from the General to make ready for our departure on Friday with all possible speed. Last night he was fuming at the negligence of the contractors who have so far delivered only one-half of the provisions needed; and censured me because the spare sails and cordage—paid for out of my own purse—which were to have been brought ten days ago, are not here either. For my sick wife’s sake I would willingly give a hundred pesos to delay another week, until the crisis of her fever has been passed. However, he is right to make haste; the south-easterly winds may fail us if we wait even a little longer. Submit your superior’s plea to the General, if you will, but pray do not add my name to it, lest he suspect me of hidden motives; I dare not forfeit his trust.’

  Father Antonio frowned, and said: ‘There is another small matter in which you can show your gratitude to God.’ He spoke sorrowfully of the little dark glory-hole that was to serve the Vicar both as oratory and living quarters.

  ‘But, reverend Father, what can I do? The distribution of quarters is the Purser’s business. He has nearly lost his wits trying to find decent accommodation for every person of importance in this ship, so crammed with soldiers, seamen, passengers, goods and livestock. Until it pleases God to bring us safely to the Isles, everyone must expect more than usual discomfort. The enlarging of the General’s own store-room has eaten into the living quarters; that’s where the trouble lies.’

  ‘I do not notice, my son, that you are likely to suffer discomfort yourself. Would it not be a pious and charitable act to exchange this airy cabin of yours with the Vicar—an old man, who coughs all night like a cat with a fish-bone in his throat, and is so saintly that he never asks for anything better than is given him?’

  ‘I would willingly yield my quarters,’ said the Chief Pilot, ‘and live with the common sailors in the forecastle, though they lie as close as salted sardines in a tub. I have not forgotten that I served six years before the mast until I rose to supercargo and assistant pilot. But now that I am both Master and Chief Pilot, my post is in the Master’s cabin where these nautical instruments belong, and where I have a table to spread my charts; and my room must communicate with the Great Cabin so that the General can summon me on the instant, and must also be within a hop and a jump of the quarter-deck. Yet because all the cabins are crowded, and indeed overcrowded, I have agreed to share my quarters with the General’s secretaries. More lodgers I cannot entertain. If your cabin will not hold the two of you, may I suggest in all humility that you ask permission to sail in the galeot, where they have no priest at all?’

  ‘The Vicar cannot do without me, my son, and upon my word, your excuses show little devotion. Are the instruments of navigation to be accorded more honour than the instruments of religion?’

  ‘I make no excuses, reverend Father; I only explain circumstances. Go to the General, by all means, and ask for the exchange to be made; if he consents, I shall obey.’

  The good Father went away, very discontented, and meeting with the Purser’s negro, asked to be taken the round of the cabins and other living quarters. But it was as Pedro Fernandez had said: the ship was overcrowded, and even the berth which the Colonel was to share with his nephew and four other military officers seemed as dark and airless as a dungeon. However, when the negro told him that the best cabin of all, after the Barretos’, had been allotted to a mere merchant-venturer, Don Juan de la Isla, he at once took his protest to Doña Ysabel.

  Doña Ysabel showed him every respect, but little sympathy. She explained that Don Juan, an old friend of the General’s and a veteran of the Philippine wars, had a larger investment in the enterprise than anyone else in the flotilla, with the exception of her husband; and that he was to share that cabin with his wife and daughter who, being women of rank, could not be accommodated elsewhere. As for the other two merchants who were installed in a smaller cabin alongside, they had been persuaded only with the greatest difficulty to embark on the expedition. ‘Should the least mark of discourtesy be shown them now,’ she said, ‘they might change their minds and go ashore again.’

  ‘If they have come unwillingly, that would do little harm, my daughter; and if this cabin were freed it would serve for the Vicar, who is old and has a bad cough.’

  Smiling a little grimly, Doña Ysabel said: ‘The merchants’ room would be bought at a heavy price, reverend Father. All the pork and biscuit on board is their venture, and half the wine too. Why do you complain of your quarters? Not on your own account, I warrant; your Bishop tells me that you are used to poverty and hardship. Is it on your superior’s account? That would do him little honour, since he is said to be a pious man, and a Franciscan in all but his habit. Is it on account of the sacramental plate, the vestments and such like? Yet did not Our Saviour Himself in His infinite mercy consent to hold court in a stable, lodged in an ass’s manger, and our Blessed Lady with Him?’

  This, though unanswerable, did not satisfy Father Antonio, as; coming from a woman, and he determined to carry the matter to the General. Nor was he the only one who had complaints to make about his accommodation, and the Purser, run after by a swarm of angry people, went into hiding below, where the bilge-water stank so foully that he was safe from pursuit. When I saw him again he looked pretty sick, b
ut told me philosophically: ‘A stinking bilge, a sound hull.’

  At last the General was drummed aboard, suspecting no trouble, like a man who looks cheerfully up at the sky and steps into a wasp’s nest. The Chief Pilot was the first to salute him and, as they mounted to the quarter-deck where Doña Ysabel was waiting, contrived to explain what had passed between the Colonel and himself, adding that he had no wish to sail with a madman, but would far rather remain in Peru, even if this meant forfeiting the thousand pesos which he had invested in the enterprise. Doña Ysabel’s brothers took his part against the Colonel, and protested that Pedro Fernandez could not be spared: of capable military officers we had no lack, they said, but here was the best navigator in Peru, or out of it. Let the Colonel hang or drown, it was all one to them; but it was not consonant with their honour to sail with the soldier who had insulted their sister, while parting with the sailor who had championed her at the risk of his life.