To the Indies (21 page)

“Pacify them?” asked Bartholomew.

“That is what I said.”

“Brother, leave the pacification to me. I will pacify them as they ought to be pacified. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. A sharp lesson is what they need.”

“I know your sharp lessons, Bartholomew,” said the Admiral, sadly.

“By God,” said Bartholomew, “I’m glad I have your two hundred men. Without them I would hardly have two hundred men to take out against them. If only the ships with the horses had come! I’ve barely fifty horses, and in those plains it’s horses we need.”

“Bartholomew,” said the Admiral, “I forbid you to be cruel. You must show them all the mercy possible.”

“That is what I will do,” said Bartholomew, grimly. “Brother, you are too good for this world. And supposing I did what you think you want? Supposing I encouraged them to think they can rebel against our authority with impunity? What would happen to the gold quota? How much cotton do you think they’d grow for us? What would you say then, brother? Who was it who was complaining at the shortage of gold only five minutes ago? Kind words won’t make these people work, as you know. Only the fear of death’ll do that — and even then half of ‘em prefer to die.”

“I suppose you’ve been promising them in Spain gold by the ton, as usual,” put in James, taking the side of his younger brother against the elder, who sat shaken and helpless before the double attack.

“I never expected my own brothers to turn against me,” he said pitifully.

“We haven’t turned against you,” snapped Bartholomew. “We’re doing your work for you. And there’s no time to lose unless we want the whole island in a blaze. We’ll march this afternoon. James, set the drums beating and the church bells ringing.”

The room was in an immediate bustle. Bartholomew flung open the door and began to shout orders through it to the guard at the gate. The three Dominican friars — Brother Bernard who had supervised yesterday’s act of faith, and the two who had just arrived — were whispering together in one corner.

“Don Narciso!” called the Admiral, and Rich went across to him. “You must go with my brother. With this cursed gout I can neither walk nor sit a horse. And there are so few I can trust.”

Rich contemplated with some distaste the prospect of marching out with four hundred men to fight ten thousand painted savages.

“I doubt if Don Bartholomew will welcome my presence,” he said.

“You must go. You must. Bartholomew told me last night he had a horse of mine in his stables. Bartholomew, I am giving Don Narciso my horse so that he can ride with you.”

“Come if you like,” said the
Adelantado
after a momentary grimace. “I’d rather put a man-at-arms on that horse. Have you armor as well as that long robe?”

“I have,” said Rich.

Bartholomew was a man of action. It took him no more than two hours to assemble every European near, to select his expeditionary force and to detail the fifty men he was leaving behind to their duties as garrison. The few stores which had been brought up out of the ships he divided among his army.

“There’ll be food to be got in the villages,” he explained; “but with savages to fight, the whole secret lies in being able to march without a halt and give them no time to rally.”

Four hundred men marched out of San Domingo in the blazing heat of the day. Juan Ruiz rode ahead with six horsemen as an advance guard in case of an ambush. Then came the long column of leather coats and dull armor, Bernardo de Tarpia with his handgunmen, and Morel’s crossbowmen, the spearmen and handgunmen led by Juan Antonio Columbus — four years in Española had made these last familiar with the island, even to the extent of calling it by its native name of ‘Hayti’ — and forty sailors from the ships under Carvajal’s command, armed with pikes and swords. Bartholomew Columbus rode with forty horsemen, Cristobal García and Rodrigo and Gonzalo Acevedo among them. Rich had his place with these, a little uneasy even astride the grey horse with which he had been provided, spiritless nag though it was.

The sun roasted him in his half armor, but he was determined to utter no complaint until his companions should, and they were full of high spirits at being mounted again and faced with the imminent prospect of action. On their right was blue, blue sea, and on their left the high mountains, vivid green from base to summit, towering to the sky. Ahead of them lay a wide, rolling plain, stretching from the mountains to the sea green and luxuriant, broken only here and there by thickets and woodland. There were herds of cattle to be seen here — in four years the few beasts brought by the second expedition had multiplied beyond all count — and scattered patches of cultivated land where the Indians grew their roots and their corn. This was the famous plain of the Llanos, which the Admiral had compared, in extent and fertility, to the valley of Guadalquivir.

But at the moment there was not a soul to be seen, save the long column of Spaniards trudging along the faint track. Ruiz and his horsemen turned aside repeatedly to examine the hamlets which lay in sight, but each in turn was found to be deserted, and from each in turn rose the smoke of their burning as the torch was applied to the frail structures.

“Who are these Indians?” grumbled Avila. His visored helmet was at his saddlebow, his painted shield at his back, his long lance at his elbow, as if he was on his way to joust at a King’s court.

“Perhaps you may see some,” said the veteran Robion. “They may perhaps stand to fight here in the plains. They fight like sheep — you will be able to spike six of them at once on that skewer of yours. I doubt if they have learned even yet that they are safer from us in the mountains.”

“They are not worthy enemies, then?”

Robion gave a short harsh laugh.

“Not worthy of a knight-errant like you. They know nothing of war, nothing at all. One might as well fight with children.”

“With children?” broke in someone else. “A Spanish shepherd boy would be more dangerous than ten of their grown men. They had never fought in all their lives until we came among them — they didn’t know what fighting was!”

“And I came here to gain honor!” said Avila, drawing a fresh laugh from the old hands.

Rich was pondering over what he had heard. In a land in which there was no tradition of violence at all, how long would it take to develop the art of war afresh? How long would it be before its people learned the axioms which even to a man of peace like himself were as natural as the air he breathed — the value of discipline and of order, the efficacy of surprise, the importance of a position? Why, he himself had read the foremost military treatise in history,
Vegetius
’ Epitoma rei militaris
, and was conversant with the principles of war, even if he would not be able to put them into practice. The laughing thoughtless people of the islands, who had never had even to avoid a flung stone or to dodge a blow, would not learn them in a generation.

“I expect they are all howling round the fort at Soco,” said Robion. “Twice I’ve stood a siege like that. They howl until they are tired, and then you can go out and drive them back to work. But this is the first time I’ve ever known so many of them to unite together, all the same.”

They were filing over a ford now, and everybody eagerly slipped out of the saddle to drink from the dark water; Rich found himself, after two hours’ riding, already so stiff that he could hardly swing his leg over, but fortunately no one noticed. The column halted to rest in the shade along the banks, the sweating infantry lying stretched out flat with their weapons beside them until the
Adelantado
set the trumpet blowing to call them to their feet again. Rich scrambled somehow back into the saddle — he was already sore, and his body shrank from contact with the harsh leather. By the end of the day he was in misery. The chatter went on unnoticed round him, blended with the squeaking of leather and the occasional ringing of hoofs or accoutrements. The final order to halt found him quite stupid with fatigue. He tried vainly to make some pretense of attending to the sorry grey horse, and experienced unfathomable relief and gratitude when Rodrigo relieved him of the task unobtrusively.

“I can’t thank you,” was all Rich was able to say, white-faced.

Ruiz and his companions had driven a small herd of cattle up to the encampment, and fires were lighted for roasting the meat. There was cheerful chatter round the fires, where the meat was roasted upon huge grids of green boughs —
barbecues
or
boucans
, strange Haytian words which the old-timers used naturally and at which the newcomers made tentative attempts with as realistic an appearance of habit as possible. No more than five sentries were necessary to protect the camp while the others slept.

That had been a day of sunshine; the next was a day of rain, perpetual rain falling in torrents from a grey sky. It soaked everyone to the skin, finding its way remorselessly down inside the necks of leather coats and from there into the leather breeches so that the horsemen had wet squelching bags of water round their thighs. The men on foot sank to their ankles in the mud, the horses to their fetlocks. The little streams from the mountains became broad rivers bordered by knee-deep marsh; armor and weapons rusted almost perceptibly under their very eyes, and every man was daubed and streaked with mud. In those conditions, not nearly so prolonged a march could be made as the
Adelantado
had wished — it had been his plan to camp that night so near to Soco as to make it possible to surprise the besiegers at dawn. With ten miles of slippery ground and three watercourses still between his army and the fort, the
Adelantado
was forced to give up the project.

“But marching at dawn we shall be at Soco by noon,” he, said to the disgruntled group of hidalgos round him. “Time enough then for the lesson I want to teach them.”

It rained until dawn, men and horses suffering miserably under the continued drenching, but with morning came a fiery sun which put new life into them — into all save a score or so of the earlier colonists, who lay shuddering and with chattering teeth despite the heat. They were in the grip of malaria — everyone who lived long in the island went down with it in course of time, apparently, and exposure to wet and to night air was certain to bring on an attack. One of the shivering victims begged with blue lips to be left with his companions where they lay.

“So that when we have gone the Indians can beat you to death with their clubs, I suppose,” commented the
Adelantado
. “You could not raise a finger to stop them if they did. No. You must come with us. There are horses enough until we reach Soco.”

So Rich completed the march on foot, leading the grey horse and with another man on the other side to help him keep one of the invalids in the saddle. Nor was he specially sorry, for two days of riding, even at foot pace, had rubbed his flesh raw. He trudged along with his sword tapping against his leg, while the sick man on his horse blasphemed wearily about the island and the Indians and the fate which had led him thither. Rich tried to make himself listen, because unguarded speech of this sort would be a valuable source of evidence for the report he would later have to make to His Highness, but it was hard to concentrate on the business with the imminent prospect of a battle before him. The handgunmen had their pieces loaded, and two of them had their matches smoldering, whereby a light could quickly be given to their companions; the
Adelantado
was riding along the column reminding his subordinates of his orders for the line of battle. With every step he took Rich knew that he was coming nearer to his first battlefield; it was a strange sensation. Once a false alarm ran down the column, and swords were drawn as they halted, but the mounted hidalgos reassured them and they plodded on.

And then they came over a low rise to open up a fresh vista of the plain. Two miles ahead stood a low grey building with a black speck fluttering over it — the fortress of Soco with its flag; evidently the dozen colonists who had taken refuge there had made good their defense.