The Islands of Unwisdom Read online

  ‘So you see, little Andrés, her jewels have earned their keep, and give us cause to admire them without rancour. And you may be sure that if we are longer at sea than is expected, because of contrary winds, and provisions run short, Don Alvaro will relieve our hunger and thirst from the plenty of his private store. He is a man of compassion and on his first voyage, I am told, made it his rule to eat and drink no better than a common seaman; ay, and in time of danger he placed himself under the boatswain’s orders and took his turn at the pumps, and even lent a hand with the sails.’

  ***

  Three smaller vessels completed our flotilla. The Santa Ysabel galleon was of about one hundred and twenty tons burden, a decrepit old vessel which her commander, Captain Lope de Vega, had bought for a song on behalf of himself and the General. The San Felipe galeot was of seventy tons, wholly the venture of Captain Felipe Corzo, her commander; a fine little craft. The Santa Catalina frigate, of fifty tons, commanded by Captain Alonzo de Leyva, was the venture of a Lima merchant, but the General had a third-interest in her hull and also held the merchant’s power of attorney; she was worn and crank, with a hogged keel and dry rot in her upper works, and should have been broken up years before—we nicknamed her ‘The Holy Coffin.’

  By midnight all the settlers were assembled aboard and we had the San Geronimo more or less ship-shape, the frigate and galeot reporting that they too were ready for sea. Only the Santa Ysabel was not yet in port; her captain had been sent to recruit respectable married settlers in the valleys of Saña, Santa and Truxillo, high up the coast, and to buy salt beef, flour and cheeses for the troops’ rations, which were cheaper there than at Callao. The absence of the galleon was much remarked upon by the sailors. Some said that the General feared to produce so unseaworthy a vessel for inspection by the Admiral-General; others, that she had already foundered with all hands.

  The business and excitement of departure repaired in some measure the discord between the high officers. Since the Colonel was now stark sober and very much at the General’s orders, the Chief Pilot and Doña Ysabel’s brothers agreed to treat him as though the scandalous events of the Tuesday had never occurred. Doña Ysabel herself showed him a graciousness that melted him like sugar stirred into hot wine, and because of his bad conscience towards them he was anxious to make amends, though careful of his dignity. When not in his cups, he was a correct and likeable old man, though he would always say the first thing that entered his head, without reflexion, and usually it was something unwise. He was much given to the reading of romances: Amadis of Gaul, The Seven Champions of Christendom, The History of Palmyrin of England and the like, and had brought a cloak-bag full of these books to kill the tedium of the voyage. The Cid was his hero; the manners of the world nowadays displeased him; and he would often complain that all had gone to wrack since the invention of gun-powder had made the knave the equal of the knight.

  Friday dawned at last. To my chagrin I was detailed to stay on board, while all the soldiers and sailors who could be spared went ashore and were marched up to Lima, where they heard High Mass in the Cathedral and partook of the Sacrament. The General also made an intercession on their behalf to Saint Domingo, at the back of whose church stands the fine Basilica of Vera Cruz built by Pizarro more than fifty years before. Here a splinter of the True Cross is kept in a jewelled reliquary, a gift from Pope Paul III, which was now held up for the veneration of our people. The officers were ill content that Saint Domingo had been made our patron, as though we were friars, rather than Saint James of Compostella who favours and rewards daring enterprises when piety goes hand in hand with inflexible courage. The three Royal Standards were then blessed; each bore the double-headed eagle of the Holy Roman Empire, embracing the royal arms of Spain, with a tall crucifix above and, below, the motto: ‘Thou art my protection and defence.’ The royal banners of purple watered silk with gold fringes were also blessed; and the pendant of each commander.

  This being a public holiday, thousands of Lima citizens travelled the two leagues to Callao for a sight of the ships, although it was close and torrid weather, better suited for staying indoors, fan in hand, behind closed shutters. The procession wound down from the Cathedral with great pomp, the General and his Lady at the head of the ships’ companies, preceded by friars of three different Orders who waved censers and chanted penitential psalms. Our people were surprised to see that the General had adopted the habit of a Franciscan lay-brother and that Doña Ysabel, to keep him decent company, was wearing a russet gown bare of adornments, except for a small gold crucifix. The garrulous Elvira had evidently been right about Don Alvaro’s vow; but, to judge by their rich clothes, neither Juan de la Isla nor our other two merchant-venturers, Andres and Mariano de Castillo, had been moved by the General’s plea for sacrifices. The Chief Pilot carried a wooden image of Our Lady of Solitude in his arms, a parting-gift from the House of Clarissas to whom his brother-in-law was appointed father confessor. It can have been no easy burden.

  The chanting ended at the quay-side, where our musicians struck up bravely with fife and drum while the General and his following were rowed back across the harbour in a fleet of decorated boats. The troops of the flagship formed up on deck under arms, and the Admiral-General of the South Seas, with his suite, was drummed aboard to inspect us. As had been foreseen, he found everything to his liking, being taken to see only what was fit to be shown, and did not trouble to have the military stores checked against the lists handed to him; nor did he inspect the frigate, or the galeot either. The Dean of the Cathedral-canons blessed the San Geronimo, sprinkled holy water over her anchor-cables, masts and helm, and gave his benediction to those of us who had been unable to attend mass that morning. Every craft in the harbour was dressed with bunting in our honour, great animation was shown, and rival bands of musicians began playing in the ships and on the quay-side.

  The Admiral-General left us about the hour of vespers, and no sooner had his state-barge touched the shore than a galley put out and ran under our counter, with a gift of fifteen seamen in exchange for those who had run off. It was easy to see why they had not been sent until the inspection was completed: these were not seamen, but the sweepings of the water-front, and a more villainous consignment of gallows’ meat I never saw in my life—branded, leg-and-neck-galled, lousy, thin as rakes, their backs well-patterned by the lash, one of them without a hand, another with a prop for a leg, all of them ragged in the extreme and lacking the barest necessities. The Boatswain made no complaint to the Harbour-master from whom he received the men, but pretended satisfaction and waited until the galley had put off, when he at once ordered every one of them to be confined below under guard. He told the General: ‘Tonight, if it please your Excellency, I shall row these heroes ashore and let them find their way back to the City jail, where they belong.’

  ‘Do so, by all means, Boatswain,’ said Don Alvaro. ‘They have been sent us in error. The Harbour-master must have misread the Warden’s order to impress fifteen able seamen for our galleon, and given us galley-slaves instead.’

  The Royal Standard was broken from the stern, the anchor was weighed with much stamping and singing, and the long-boat took us in tow, upon which the Captain of Artillery gave the order to fire a grand salute from our falcons and falconets. That was a fine simultaneous volley, at once taken up by the galeot and frigate; to which the other royal vessels and the fort at the harbour entrance replied thunderously, and then the soldiers discharged their arquebuses. The crowds cheered wildly, and so did the crews of the ships that lay near us. Rockets rose from the square in front of the customs house, and other fireworks were touched off. It was a memorable leave-taking. The long-boat’s oars dipped raggedly, the foresail was set, and we drew slowly away from the quay; but the breeze was so light that we could not clear the harbour. I believe that it might have been managed, had the crew not considered Friday an unlucky day either for turning a mattress or for quitting port; and had not the Chief Pilot, recognizing their unwil
lingness to put their backs into the work, advised the General to contain his impatience until the morning.

  All that night we rode at anchor, only a cable’s length from the customs house, and when the middle watch was roused, the Boatswain sent the long-boat ashore, with muffled oars, to a remote part of the beach. In her bottom lay the fifteen ruffians, bound and gagged, and we were happy to see them go; however, half an hour later she returned, as deep in the water as before, the Boatswain’s mate passing word that the whole length of the shore was patrolled by armed guards, who had forcibly resisted his landing. ‘That’s of no great consequence,’ the Boatswain said placidly, ‘we can always turn them out at Santa or Cherrepé.’

  The Chief Pilot was sunk in grief for his wife, Doña Ana Chacon, whose fever was so high that she had not known him when he went to say goodbye, but took him for a priest come to give her extreme unction. Miguel Llano and I had great difficulty in calming him when, towards the end of his watch, a messenger in a skiff brought letters for the General: he was convinced that one of them was addressed to him and contained the report of her death. He trembled like a poplar and his brow was beaded with sweat. However, there was no news for him, either bad or good, and presently he composed himself by prayer and meditation, but did not sleep.

  The wind freshened in the morning, that of the eighth of April. We weighed anchor again and rounded the massive Isle of San Lorenzo; then at last the flotilla stood out to sea under full sail, a sight to gladden the heart. The galeot was leading by half a league, which soon increased to two. She disregarded all our signals to keep within view, but crammed on more sail, until by noon we had lost sight of her. When we picked her up an hour or two later off the town of Ancon, she was drawing away from a small coaster headed for Callao and gave us the slip again. We learned afterwards that Captain Corzo had boarded and plundered this coaster of her cargo of salt beef and chick-peas, and that he then stopped two more vessels and forced them to hand over their stores, impressing three fishermen from one, and two seamen and a boy from the other, to make up his complement.

  The wind blew fair from the south all day and all night. The sea was choppy, and most of the thirty women aboard, and many of the men, including myself, suffered from sea-sickness. But despite the long draught the coast, I owned, was noble, with its many islands and rocky promontories peopled by myriads of gulls and droves of sea-lions, and a grand backing of hills and mountains as far as the eye could reach.

  We did not catch up with the galeot until the Monday evening. She lay in the port of Santa, sixty leagues higher up the coast, where her Captain had been bold enough to capture the Santa Trinidad, a merchant ship of about ninety tons, also bound for Callao. She was too large a vessel for him to handle alone, and as we entered the harbour he hailed us with: ‘Captain Corzo’s compliments to the General. We have shown our standard to the master of the Santa Trinidad—from Panama with a general cargo and fifty negro slaves—as a warrant for her requisition in His Majesty’s name. Will the General be good enough to confirm the seizure?’

  When I went to the Great Cabin and gave Don Alvaro the message, he turned pale. ‘But, man!’ he exclaimed, ‘this is rank piracy!’

  Doña Ysabel, seated at the window with her widowed sister Doña Mariana Barreto de Castro, looked up sharply from the tambour on which she was embroidering a design of doves and flowers. ‘Piracy?’ she echoed. ‘My lord, that is an ugly word; be sparing in its use, I beg. The costs of enterprises approved by the Crown but left without aid from the Treasury are bound to fall on private shoulders. Do not your letters patent entitle you to commandeer what you please, whenever you please?’

  ‘My lady,’ the General cried, ‘this is not to be borne! Would you have me become a receiver of stolen goods? How will our voyage end if we begin in this dishonourable and godless way?’

  ‘Don Alvaro,’ she replied, the colour rising in her cheeks, ‘if you considered our safety and the well-being of our people rather than the impassioned dictates of your honour, it would be better for us all. Confirm the seizure by all means, and if the ship is sound in hull and rigging, add her to the flotilla.’

  ‘Why, yes, brother-in-law,’ Doña Mariana chimed in, ‘to salve your conscience you can always promise to repay the owners the full value of ship and cargo—one day, in God’s good time.’

  He threw out his hands, rose, and summoning the Vicar, asked him in the hearing of all whether he should countenance Captain Corzo’s wanton acts. Father Juan gave it as his opinion that to do so would be a sin. Yet even with this guidance Don Alvaro dared not visit the galeot and reprimand her captain, for fear that he might take offence and sail away on an enterprise of his own. Besides, Doña Ysabel made it clear enough by the way she pursed her mouth and stabbed her needle into the breast of an embroidered dove that, if he attempted to check the Captain, she would grant him little peace. We all saw it, and it saddened us.

  The Chief Pilot, who had somewhat recovered his spirits now that we were fairly under way, grew gloomy again. He told me in low tones as we returned to the Chart-room: ‘Though Don Alvaro is a man of honest intentions and excellent feelings, I fear he lacks the strength to swim against this current.’ Then he ran after the Vicar and said: ‘Father, to avoid trouble in the Great Cabin, would it not be well to go aboard the galeot yourself and persuade the Captain to see reason? You could make it plain that the General has not sent you, but that you come in the name of the Church.’

  Father Juan thanked him for his good advice, and while Doña Ysabel and her sister were trying to convert Don Alvaro to their way of thinking, had himself rowed to the San Felipe, where he paid a visit to Captain Corzo. It seems the Captain replied to his severe remonstrances that this was a matter for the General to decide, not a priest; which brought the good Father to a heat of righteous indignation. ‘My son,’ he said, ‘do you know what you are saying? If you persist in your wicked obstinacy, I must excommunicate you, here and now, and we shall see whether your subordinates will sail under your pendant.’

  Captain Corzo fell on his knees and promised to pay the master of the Santa Trinidad for all the merchandise already transferred to the San Felipe, and not to retain the stores which he had taken from the smaller vessels; then the Vicar absolved him, bound him to a good act of contrition, and went away well satisfied. But the Captain, having little money, compensated the master of the Santa Trinidad with his other plunder, and thereby kept at least to the letter of his promise.

  Doña Ysabel, on the master-carpenter’s report that it would cost him three weeks’ labour and many barrels of pitch to make the Santa Trinidad seaworthy, resigned all claims upon her, but persuaded Don Alvaro to impress fifteen of her able seamen and replace them with the vagabonds from Callao; a decision that caused the Boatswain no little pleasure.

  Her attention was soon diverted by a domestic interlude: besides her Spanish maids, Elvira Delcano and Belita of Jerez, she had a pock-marked Peruvian under-maid called Pancha. This Pancha, to tell the truth, though loyal to her mistress, was a perfect strumpet and sensual to a degree: despite her ravaged face, the men fought one another for her favours and it was her boast that she could draw any husband from his wife on their very wedding-night. Being in charge of Doña Ysabel’s cow and goats, she was on her way to the Great Cabin that evening, carrying the full milk pail, when her eye fell on Raimundo Pons, Juan de Buitrago’s orderly; she put down the pail and stopped to talk to him. He drew her into the cabin which his master shared with two other ensigns but which was unoccupied at the time, and began to bargain with her, swearing that she valued her kindnesses excessively high. They could not agree on a price, and losing all patience he called her a draggle-tailed bitch, seized her by the shoulders and tried to force her. That was all one to Pancha, who did not baulk at violence and would have made him pay twice over by stealing some part of his accoutrement and holding it to ransom, as I heard that she afterwards did with another of her victims. But Raimundo was clumsy and struck her head agai
nst the corner of a chest, which made her cry aloud in pain. At that moment she heard approaching footsteps and, fearing discovery, screamed ‘Rape, rape! Murder!’, and in rushed Juan de Buitrago, upsetting the milk in his haste, gripped his orderly by the collar, pulled him off her, and gave him in charge to a sergeant.

  Later, the Ensign told his comrades that he should rather have paid the slut a real or two as the price of holding her tongue, and kicked his orderly soundly for turning their berth into a bawdy-house. Then there would have been no need for the affair to come to the General’s notice, because Raimundo was a good soldier; but when the cry of rape went up he had acted without forethought. So Raimundo was taken before the Colonel, while Pancha hurried off with the empty pail to Doña Ysabel pretending great agitation. Since the matter had now been made public, she kept to her story that the soldier had tried to force her, as indeed was the case; and Doña Ysabel accepted her plea of injured innocence and undertook to have her assailant punished handsomely.