The Eclipse Of The Moon - 1

The Eclipse Of The Moon - 1

We must now return to the little settlement on the coast of Jamaica—those two wornout

caravels, lashed together with ropes and bridged by an erection of wood and thatch, in

which the forlorn little company was established. In all communities of men so situated

there are alternate periods of action and reaction, and after the excitement incidental to

the departure of Mendez, and the return of Bartholomew with the news that he had got

safely away, there followed a time of reaction, in which the Spaniards looked dismally

out across the empty sea and wondered when, if ever, their salvation would come.

Columbus himself was now a confirmed invalid, and could hardly ever leave his bed

under the thatch; and in his own condition of pain and depression his influence on the rest

of the crew must inevitably have been less inspiriting than it had formerly been. The men

themselves, moreover, began to grow sickly, chiefly on account of the soft vegetable

food, to which they were not accustomed, and partly because of their cramped quarters

and the moist, unhealthy climate, which was the very opposite of what they needed after

their long period of suffering and hardship at sea.

As the days and weeks passed, with no occupation save the daily business of collecting

food that gradually became more and more nauseous to them, and of straining their eyes

across the empty blue of the sea in an anxious search for the returning canoes of Fieschi,

the spirits of the castaways sank lower and lower. Inevitably their discontent became

articulate and broke out into murmurings. The usual remedy for this state of affairs is to

keep the men employed at some hard work; but there was no work for them to do, and the

spirit of dissatisfaction had ample opportunity to spread. As usual it soon took the form of

hostility to the Admiral. They seem to have borne him no love or gratitude for his

masterly guiding of them through so many dangers; and now when he lay ill and in

suffering his treacherous followers must needs fasten upon him the responsibility for their

condition. After a month or two had passed, and it became certain that Fieschi was not

coming back, the castaways could only suppose that he and Mendez had either been

captured by natives or had perished at sea, and that their fellow-countrymen must still be

without news of the Admiral's predicament. They began to say also that the Admiral was

banished from Spain; that there was no desire or intention on the part of the Sovereigns to

send an expedition to his relief; even if they had known of his condition; and that in any

case they must long ago have given him up for lost.

When the pot boils the scum rises to the surface, and the first result of these disloyal

murmurings and agitations was to bring into prominence the two brothers, Francisco and

Diego de Porras, who, it will be remembered, owed their presence with the expedition

entirely to the Admiral's good nature in complying with the request of their brother-inlaw

Morales, who had apparently wished to find some distant occupation for them. They

had been given honourable posts as officers, in which they had not proved competent; but

the Admiral had always treated them with kindness and courtesy, regarding them more as

guests than as servants. Who or what these Porras brothers were, where they came from,

who were their father and mother, or what was their training, I do not know; it is enough

for us to know that the result of it all had been the production of a couple of very mean

scoundrels, who now found an opportunity to exercise their scoundrelism.

When they discovered the nature of the murmuring and discontent among the crew they

immediately set them to work it up into open mutiny. They represented that, as Mendez

had undoubtedly perished, there was no hope of relief from Espanola; that the Admiral

did not even expect such relief, knowing that the island was forbidden ground to him.

They insinuated that he was as well content to remain in Jamaica as anywhere else, since

he had to undergo a period of banishment until his friends at Court could procure his

forgiveness. They were all, said the Porras brothers, being made tools for the Admiral's

convenience; as he did not wish to leave Jamaica himself, he was keeping them all there,

to perish as likely as not, and in the meantime to form a bodyguard, and establish a

service for himself. The Porras brothers suggested that, under these circumstances, it

would be as well to take a fleet of native canoes from the Indians and make their own

way to Espanola; the Admiral would never undertake the voyage himself, being too

helpless from the gout; but it would be absurd if the whole company were to be allowed

to perish because of the infirmities of one man. They reminded the murmurers that they

would not be the first people who had rebelled with success against the despotic rule of

Columbus, and that the conduct of the Sovereigns on a former occasion afforded them

some promise that those who rebelled again would receive something quite different from

punishment.

Christmas passed, the old year went out in this strange, unhomelike place, and the new

year came in. The Admiral, as we have seen, was now almost entirely crippled and

confined to his bed; and he was lying alone in his cabin on the second day of the year

when Francisco de Porras abruptly entered. Something very odd and flurried about

Porras; he jerks and stammers, and suddenly breaks out into a flood of agitated speech, in

which the Admiral distinguishes a stream of bitter reproach and impertinence. The thing

forms itself into nothing more or less than a hurried, gabbling complaint; the people are

dissatisfied at being kept here week after week with no hope of relief; they accuse the

Admiral of neglecting their interests; and so on. Columbus, raising himself in his bed,

tries to pacify Porras; gives him reasons why it is impossible for them to depart in canoes;

makes every endeavour, in short, to bring this miserable fellow back to his duties. He is

watching Porras's eye all the time; sees that he is too excited to be pacified by reason, and

suspects that he has considerable support behind him; and suggests that the crew had

better all be assembled and a consultation held as to the best course to pursue.

It is no good to reason with mutineers; and the Admiral has no sooner made this

suggestion than he sees that it was a mistake. Porras scoffs at it; action, not consultation,

is what he demands; in short he presents an ultimatum to the Admiral—either to embark

with the whole company at once, or stay behind in Jamaica at his own pleasure. And

then, turning his back on Columbus and raising his voice, he calls out, "I am for Castile;

those who choose may follow me!"