The Conquest Of Espanola - 4

The Conquest Of Espanola - 4

The powers of hell were let loose that day into the Earthly Paradise. The guns mowed red

lines of blood through the solid ranks of the natives; the great Spanish horses trod upon

and crushed their writhing bodies, in which arrows and lances continually stuck and

quivered; and the ferocious dogs, barking and growling, seized the naked Indians by the

throat, dragged them to the ground, and tore out their very entrails . . . . Well for us that

the horrible noises of that day are silent now; well for the world that that place of

bloodshed and horror has grown green again; better for us and for the world if those cries

had never been heard, and that quiet place had never received a stain that centuries of

green succeeding springtides can never wash away.

It was some time before this final battle that the convalescence of the Admiral was

further assisted by the arrival of four ships commanded by Antonio Torres, who must

have passed, out of sight and somewhere on the high seas, the ships bearing Buil and

Margarite back to Spain. He brought with him a large supply of fresh provisions for the

colony, and a number of genuine colonists, such as fishermen, carpenters, farmers,

mechanics, and millers. And better still he brought a letter from the Sovereigns, dated the

16th of August 1494, which did much to cheer the shaken spirits of Columbus. The

words with which he had freighted his empty ships had not been in vain; and in this reply

to them he was warmly commended for his diligence, and reminded that he enjoyed the

unshaken confidence of the Sovereigns. They proposed that a caravel should sail every

month from Spain and from Isabella, bearing intelligence of the colony and also, it was

hoped, some of its products. In a general letter addressed to the colony the settlers were

reminded of the obedience they owed to the Admiral, and were instructed to obey him in

all things under the penalty of heavy fines. They invited Columbus to come back if he

could in order to be present at the convention which was to establish the line of

demarcation between Spanish and Portuguese possessions; or if he could not come

himself to send his brother Bartholomew. There were reasons, however, which made this

difficult. Columbus wished to despatch the ships back again as speedily as possible, in

order that news of him might help to counteract the evil rumours that he knew Buil and

Margarite would be spreading. He himself was as yet (February 1494) too ill to travel;

and during his illness Bartholomew could not easily be spared. It was therefore decided

to send home James, who could most easily be spared, and whose testimony as a member

of the governing body during the absence of the Admiral on his voyage to Cuba might be

relied upon to counteract the jealous accusations of Margarite and Buil.

Unfortunately there was no golden cargo to send back with him. As much gold as

possible was scraped together, but it was very little. The usual assortment of samples of

various island products was also sent; but still the vessels were practically empty.

Columbus must have been painfully conscious that the time for sending samples had

more than expired, and that the people in Spain might reasonably expect some of the

actual riches of which there had been so many specimens and promises. In something

approaching desperation, he decided to fill the empty holds of the ships with something

which, if it was not actual money, could at least be made to realise money. From their

sunny dreaming life on the island five hundred natives were taken and lodged in the dark

holds of the caravels, to be sent to Spain and sold there for what they would fetch. Of

course they were to be "freed" and converted to Christianity in the process; that was

always part of the programme, but it did not interfere with business. They were not maneating

Caribs or fierce marauding savages from neighbouring islands, but were of the

mild and peaceable race that peopled Espanola. The wheels of civilisation were

beginning to turn in the New World.

After the capture of Caonabo and the massacre of April 25th Columbus marched through

the island, receiving the surrender and submission of the terrified natives. At the

approach of his force the caciques came out and sued for peace; and if here and there

there was a momentary resistance, a charge of cavalry soon put an end to it. One by one

the kings surrendered and laid down their arms, until all the island rulers had capitulated

with the exception of Behechio, into whose territory Columbus did not march, and who

sullenly retired to the south-western corner of the island. The terms of peace were harsh

enough, and were suggested by the dilemma of Columbus in his frantic desire to get

together some gold at any cost. A tribute of gold-dust was laid upon every adult native in

the island. Every three months a hawk's bell full of gold was to be brought to the treasury

at Isabella, and in the case 39 of caciques the measure was a calabash. A receipt in the

form of a brass medal was fastened to the neck of every Indian when he paid his tribute,

and those who could not show the medal with the necessary number of marks were to be

further fined and punished. In the districts where there was no gold, 25 lbs. of cotton was

accepted instead.

This levy was made in ignorance of the real conditions under which the natives possessed

themselves of the gold. What they had in many cases represented the store of years, and

in all but one or two favoured districts it was quite impossible for them to keep up the

amount of the tribute. Yet the hawks' bells, which once had been so eagerly coveted and

were now becoming hated symbols of oppression, had to be filled somehow; and as the

day of payment drew near the wretched natives, who had formerly only sought for gold

when a little of it was wanted for a pretty ornament, had now to work with frantic energy

in the river sands; or in other cases, to toil through the heat of the day in the cotton fields

which they had formerly only cultivated enough to furnish their very scant requirements

of use and adornment. One or two caciques, knowing that their people could not possibly

furnish the required amount of gold, begged that its value in grain might be accepted

instead; but that was not the kind of wealth that Columbus was seeking. It must be gold

or nothing; and rather than receive any other article from the gold-bearing districts, he

consented to take half the amount.

Thus step by step, and under the banner of the Holy Catholic religion, did dark and cruel

misery march through the groves and glades of the island and banish for ever its ancient

peace. This long-vanished race that was native to the island of Espanola seems to have

had some of the happiest and most lovable qualities known to dwellers on this planet.

They had none of the brutalities of the African, the paralysing wisdom of the Asian, nor

the tragic potentialities of the European peoples. Their life was from day to day, and from

season to season, like the life of flowers and birds. They lived in such order and

peaceable community as the common sense of their own simple needs suggested; they

craved no pleasures except those that came free from nature, and sought no wealth but

what the sun gave them. In their verdant island, near to the heart and source of light,

surrounded by the murmur of the sea, and so enriched by nature that the idea, of any

other kind of riches never occurred to them, their existence went to a happy dancing

measure like that of the fauns and nymphs in whose charmed existence they believed.

The sun and moon were to them creatures of their island who had escaped from a cavern

by the shore and now wandered free in the upper air, peopling it with happy stars; and

man himself they believed to have sprung from crevices in the rocks, like the plants that

grew tall and beautiful wherever there was a handful of soil for their roots. Poor happy

children! You are all dead a long while ago now, and have long been hushed in the great

humming sleep and silence of Time; the modern world has no time nor room for people

like you, with so much kindness and so little ambition . . . . Yet their free pagan souls

were given a chance to be penned within the Christian fold; the priest accompanied the

gunner and the bloodhound, the missionary walked beside the slave-driver; and upon the

bewildered sun-bright surface of their minds the shadow of the cross was for a moment

thrown. Verily to them the professors of Christ brought not peace, but a sword.