THE story told by the Cacica bore the stamp of truth, but Balboa was, or pretended to be, unconvinced, and induced her to send for the brother who had revealed the plot, that he might question him. As she hesitated, he said, "Since he desired you to go with him, you can say you are ready, and he will return."
"Yes, he will return. But how will he be received?" she asked, dubiously. "I would not have harm come to him, for his warning was from love of me, my lord."
"And for love of me I ask you to send for him," replied Balboa, evasively. He had released the Cacica's hands, and she had fallen into a hammock, where she lay listlessly, with a look of distress in her eyes and a great fear at her heart.
She could not understand how one she loved would willingly cause her pain; but she felt that Balboa was pressing home a weapon that might pierce her heart and end her days in misery. She had entangled herself in a net of her own weaving, however, and there was but one course to pursue. So she sent for the brother who, in his anxiety to save her from the massacre in which the Spaniards were about to be involved, had given the warning. He was one of Zemaco's warriors, and employed as a scout. Upon receiving a message from his sister he at once hastened to her side, whence he was torn by emissaries of Balboa, who cast him into a dungeon. There he was promptly visited by the magistrates of Darien, at the head of whom was Balboa, and severely questioned as to what he knew of the plot. He denied all knowledge of Zemaco's movements, and one of the magistrates cried out: "Then put him to the torture. Bring a bowstring hither!"
This order having been complied with by the jailer, he then said: "Bind it about his forehead, and twist it till his eyes begin to bulge! Perchance then he will tell what he knows."
This was done, and the cruel jailer twisted the bowstring with a stick until the Indian's eyes seemed about to burst from their sockets. Unable longer to endure the torture, he cried, in agony, "Oh, release me, and I will indeed tell all!" Then he fainted, for he was but a youth, and, though accounted as a warrior, was yet of slight physique and delicate. Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, who was standing by, could not but have noted his resemblance to the Cacica, whom he had often sworn he loved; yet he made no effort to release him.
The unhappy youth related what he had told his sister, and the story was the same that she had told, only there was something added. Gasping for breath, and with temples throbbing from agonizing pain, the hapless boy said that Zemaco had long before plotted the death of Balboa, and had for this purpose posted his warriors in disguise among the Indian laborers in the fields. They watched for weeks an opportunity to take the commander off his guard; but, though they valued not their lives at all, they were intimidated by the horse which he rode and the long lance he carried, and finally gave up the attempt upon his life. This failure had determined Zemaco to form the conspiracy with the other caciques, and to this scheme he was devoting all his energies.
As the boy proceeded with his relation, and detailed the means by which the plan against Balboa's life had been frustrated, it flashed upon that worthy that his going to the fields every day fully armed and mounted on horseback was owing to the Cacica's pleadings. Otherwise he would have gone without armor, in his doublet and hose, and on foot. Thus he would certainly have fallen a victim to the Indian's rage, and thus—it became evident even to his perverted sense—he owed his life to the sister of that frail boy before him, whom he had allowed to be tortured. Then his heart misgave him surely, and, awaking from the trance into which his evil thoughts had plunged him, he exclaimed: "Release that youth. Cast off his bonds and bathe his brow where the cord hath wounded it. He hath done nothing, and I did not mind to torture him to extremity; only to elicit the truth—and that we have done. So set him free."
The magistrates murmured and protested: "It is not customary, nor is it safe, to set free one who has been put to the torture, lest, in revenge, he hold murderous plans against us. Let us now finish him, with the sword or with the garrote, and done with it."
"Nay, nay!" exclaimed Balboa, excitedly. "I am governor, though you are, by my grace, the magistrates. I take this youth under my protection, and woe be to them who dare molest him!"
"As your excellency commands," retorted one of the magistrates. "He certainly hath claims upon you, if what rumor says may be believed: to wit, that his sister is thy—"
"That for thy insolence," exclaimed Balboa, stopping the objectionable word with a blow on the magistrate's mouth. "Let it be known that this youth hath my protection, and," he added, with an ominous frown, "let what may please you be said about it—behind my back; but not in front of me!" With that he strode out of the dungeon, leading the wondering Indian by the hand. And thus, bruised and disfigured, the trembling youth was taken to Balboa's house, and left there to be cared for by the Indian maiden.
It may seem to have been the refinement of cruelty thus to force upon the Cacica this victim of the Spaniards' barbarity; but in the eyes of Balboa she was merely a savage whose charms had ensnared him temporarily. Possessing neither delicacy nor keen moral perception, he mistakenly reasoned that the Cacica would overlook this wanton outrage upon her brother and forgive the perpetrators of it. She was his slave, subject to his every whim; but still she had a heart and a conscience, and she was capable of resentment. Though she had so carefully concealed her feelings that he imagined she would always be mild and passive, no matter what occurred, the Cacica really possessed a deep, revengeful nature.
When Balboa and her brother appeared before her, she clutched at her heart, as if to still its beatings, but said nothing, though a single glance told her what had occurred. She led her brother away, to a hut outside the palm-thatched structure which served Balboa as a dwelling, and was about to bathe his bruised forehead, when he repulsed her with a gesture of disgust.
She did not ask why, for she knew, and he did not waste words in telling her that she was a traitress, and was solely responsible for what had occurred to him. In silent dignity he gathered up his bow and arrows, which had been left with the Cacica when he was thrust into the dungeon, and without one word of farewell stalked off into the forest.
Then the Cacica knew that she had incurred the hatred of her tribe, as well as lost the respect of her master, by revealing the plot of Zemaco. She had done it for love of Balboa, as she had assured him; but now that she realized her position, as an outcast from her people, and, despised by the brother who had risked his life to save her own, she hated her master, and loathed him. Thenceforth she lived only for revenge; but, with the cunning of a savage, she concealed her real feelings from Balboa, and appeared to him only the dutiful slave. She lived silent and apart, but ever nursing a scheme of vengeance which in due time cost Vasco Nuñez de Balboa his life.
Through the treachery to her people of the Cacica, and the confession elicited by torture from her unhappy brother, Balboa came into possession of all the facts regarding the purposed insurrection of the caciques. He lost no time in acting upon this information, but promptly summoned his officers in council. His chief reliance was, as may have been divined already, the stout-hearted Colmenares, who had shared with him the dangers of several expeditions, in all of which he had borne himself with courage and resolution. While the magistrates were uncertain what course should be pursued, some advising an immediate retreat from a place so fraught with danger to themselves, both from the savages and from the climate, which was killing off the settlers by scores, Colmenares alone gave his commander the advice he liked. Balboa had settled in his own mind what he should do, but he desired to be supported by a certain show of authority, conferred by his coadjutors, in order to have a loop-hole for escape in case the adventure should prove disastrous.
"I can conceive of no other course than immediate pursuit," said the gallant Colmenares. "The redskins meditated taking us unawares and putting us to death, without a possible opportunity for escape. Hence they must have determined upon attacking us both by sea and by land. In sooth, the great gathering of canoes at the town of Tichiri shows that. What, then, is the proper mode of attack for us to adopt but their own, only in the reverse? That is, a body of our troops to proceed by water and another by land, thus taking the savages by flank and cutting off all chance of retreat. So far as our ability goes to combat them, you will of course agree with me that there is no great risk. And this I say with due regard for truth."
"Which I have always found thee to observe, and also to weigh carefully the things that make for success as well as defeat," replied Balboa. "In short, Rodrigo, thou'rt a careful commander, and thy scheme was the very one I myself should propose; but thou shalt have the credit of it. Take, then, Rodrigo, sixty of our men and embark them in canoes for Tichiri, while I, with seventy, will make a wide circuit by land, and thus we will fall upon the savages by front and by rear. Provision the boats for a few days only, for we shall in all probability find enough to eat by the way, and especially when we shall have taken the town and sacked it of what it contains. There are, I understand, five principal caciques in the league, four besides the arch-scoundrel Zemaco, and, assembling as they have been from every quarter far and near, they will have brought with them of supplies a sufficient store."
To the blare of trumpet and roll of drum, the entire garrison assembled within the stockade, and the two commanders picked their men from the ranks. Only the stoutest and most valiant were taken, those who had been tried before and were accustomed to Indian warfare; but nearly all desired to go, scenting spoils in prospective and tiring of inaction at Darien. Some could not, through being stretched on beds of pain, afflicted with wounds or disease; others could not, because of some disability of which their commander was cognizant; for he knew his little garrison to the last man, and was never at a loss to judge its strength or weakness. This was one secret of his success, another being his generosity; for he never withheld from any soldier his share of plunder, and was the last to think of himself.
"Oh ho," he laughed, as the volunteers came pressing forward, some shaking with ague, some limping on crutches, and all filled with enthusiasm. "So ye all desire to go? I' faith, but I wish ye all could do so. But go back to your posts, my good men, all that can manage a cross-bow or an arquebuse, and there keep vigilant watch, for who knows when, or in what manner, the foe may appear? Rodrigo and I will go forth, the one by water and the other by land; but there must perforce be a great gap of forest between us, through which the savages may come by stealth and fall upon the town. So, I say, keep watch by night and by day; and inasmuch as all are engaged in a common defence, and all entitled to equal shares in the spoils, even so shall it be."
Balboa was moved thus to deliver himself, because of ten thousand pieces of gold in the treasury, remaining undivided, which his enemies declared he intended to seize for himself and send as a donative to the king. For this reason he said, "We shall all share alike, from commander down to drummer-boy and trumpeter, and no man shall be deprived of his portion."
Then he marched off at the head of his armored band of braves, followed by the acclaim of those he left behind to guard the town. As for those who went with him: being all of them gallant souls, and generous to a fault, more disposed to fight for treasure than to quarrel over its division afterwards, they acquiesced without a murmur. Colmenares had already embarked his force of sixty men, when Balboa set off and lost himself in the forest with his seventy, so that the settlement appeared quite deserted.
The canoes of Colmenares were paddled by stalwart Indians taken from Careta's tribe, who were ignorant of the intended uprising, but could not, of course, be unaware that the expedition was proceeding against some of their people with hostile purpose. But they asked no questions, being reasonably certain that any such would be answered only by blows, and exerted their strength to such good purpose that by nightfall of the day in which they had embarked the Spaniards reached the vicinity of Tichiri. It was probably at or near a place now indicated on the map as "Punta Escondida," or Lost Point, and may have been thus named because of its vague and misty appearance in the shades of evening-time.
The shore seemed formless, and the forests that came down to the water stretched away black and forbidding, but the darkness was pierced by numerous points of light, where blazed the Indian camp-fires, and the "tam-tam-tam" of the drums proclaimed an assemblage for the purpose of war or conference. Colmenares waited till the drums had ceased their beating and the camp-fires had been swallowed up by the darkness, then the canoes were guided stealthily to the shore and the soldiers landed. The landing could not be made without some sound, such as the clanging of armor against armor, or the striking of sword or lance against a gunwale; yet the savages were so confident that no enemy was near that they were not disturbed, and slumbered while the force formed on the beach.
Preceded by the dogs of war, a pack of three having been brought by Colmenares for this very purpose, the Spaniards crept towards the camp, extending their line as they approached and perceived its great proportions. As the scent of the quarry reached their nostrils, the dogs could no longer be restrained, and leaped forward with deep-mouthed howls into the midst of the slumbering foe. Instantly arose shrieks of terror and pain as the beasts tore the inoffensive savages to pieces, and these were followed by wild tumult when the reports of arquebuses rose above all other sounds and the Spaniards burst from their concealment with loud shouts.
The terrified Indians knew not which way to turn, and huddled together in a mass, upon the outer skirts of which the hounds tore and ravened at will, while the cross-bows and musketry played destructively. Finally, perceiving that no opposition was offered, or likely to be, by the terror-stricken savages, Colmenares ordered the trumpeter to sound the recall, and the attendants to draw off the hounds; but it was a long time before the detestable beasts could be made to quit their prey.
THE savages surprised by Colmenares in Tichiri were under a captain, or sub-chief, whose name has not been preserved, but who received swift punishment at the hands of his own people for the crime of rebellion against Balboa. As soon as the Spanish commander had ascertained in which direction he was to look for the captain, he sent a small body of men in search of him. One of his own followers handed Colmenares the bow and spear that he usually carried, and, having presented this to the most sagacious of the hounds for his inspection, the brute sniffed the air an instant, then set off into the midst of the crowd. He and his two companions had been dragged from their victims while yet their blood-stained jaws held ghastly shreds and fragments of human flesh, and it was with his ferocious instincts roused to the highest pitch that the hound darted through the throng of Indians and leaped upon the cowering chieftain.
He was expecting death, and had calmly prepared himself to meet his fate; but such a terrible apparition as this he was unprepared for, and as the hound's fangs sank into his quivering flesh he shrieked in agony of pain and terror. It was with difficulty that the enraged animal was induced to release his hold, and suffered repeated blows from the mailed fists of his attendants before he would do so. Then the mangled savage was conducted before Colmenares, who had cleared a space in the centre of the camp and there held an impromptu court-martial upon the leaders of the insurrection. The instigator of the rebellion, Zemaco, had escaped, but four of the sub-caciques, including the captain of the band, were captured, owing to the swift and secret movements of the Spaniards.
With Colmenares acting in the capacity of judge, the proceedings of the "court" were confined to the identification of the victims as leaders and men of influence among the Indians. Their guilt was assumed from the positions they held, and as soon as their identity was established they were promptly sentenced: the captain to be shot to death with arrows by his own followers, and the caciques to be hanged. The sentence was carried out at break of dawn next morning. Scarcely had the sun gilded with his first rays the topmost branches of the forest trees, before the caciques were led out to meet their doom. A broad-based ceiba-tree, or silk-cotton, reared its huge bulk near the centre of the clearing, and up its buttressed trunk a pair of soldiers swarmed to its lower-most limb, over which they swung ropes made of grass, with nooses at their ends. These nooses were then slipped over the heads of the caciques, and soon they were suspended in the air, gasping their lives away, until they were naught but contorted corpses, upon which their former subjects gazed in speechless horror.
The extent to which the Indians had been terrorized by the Spaniards was more fully shown by what followed when the captain was brought to execution. He was placed with his back against the ceiba-tree, his arms and legs tightly pinioned, and compelled to face his slayers, who were archers selected from his body-guard. He faced them dauntlessly, and, calling upon the most skilful archer by name, directed him to shoot at his heart and end his misery without unnecessary delay.
"I blame ye not," he said to his men, "for ye are compelled, I know. Moreover, I shall the more gladly die, knowing that your weapons cause my death, and not those of the foe. Shoot straight, and trouble not thyself," he said to the foremost archer, who, as he was about to bend the bow, craved pardon for his act. The bowstring twanged, the chief's head drooped, and it was seen that the arrow had pierced his breast up to the feather. As the body fell forward several Indians sprang to catch it, and there was some confusion, during which it was perceived that the savage who had slain his chief was placing another arrow on the string. The quick eye of Colmenares caught him in the act, and fearing the shaft was intended for himself—as doubtless it was—he ordered him disarmed. One of the soldiers would have thrust him through with a lance, but the commander prevented him from doing this, perhaps realizing that he had committed atrocities enough, and had put upon this poor savage more than weak human nature could endure.
In the midst of the hubbub that ensued, there sounded the roll of a drum, followed by other noises, that proclaimed the approach of an armed force from the direction of the hills. In fact, Balboa and his men, who had been detained by the countless obstructions to a passage through a virgin forest, made their appearance shortly, and soon the two commanders met and embraced.
"Ha, Rodrigo," exclaimed Balboa, glancing at the grewsome objects hanging from the limb of the ceiba-tree, "but you have forestalled me, son, and saved me trouble. I had feared it might be necessary to swing up a savage or two, and it seems you have done it with despatch. Sorry am I that we were detained; but such is the fortune of those who seek to penetrate these forests. All the day and the night we have struggled against nature's impediments to our progress, and on my soul, Rodrigo, we are worn down and famishing."
"That I can well believe," answered Colmenares. "And we are not so fresh as we might be, nor have we had aught to eat since leaving the boats. But, if the camp-master has attended to his duty, there should be something, by this, awaiting us in shape of a breakfast. Let us seek him and see."
"A fine cavalgada [troop or herd] of captives you have, Rodrigo, and they should be sufficiently impressed by the punishment of their chiefs to behave well in the future."
"Doubtless they will," replied Colmenares, "for it was a conspiracy of the caciques, and not of the people at large. These are spirit-less wretches, most of them, and of themselves will be prone to keep the peace, I trow."
"Still, I think we will build a fort here in this wood, for it is a fine site for one, and the country at large is productive. Goldmines there are, too, back in the hills, and while old Zemaco is at large there will be no peace for us. Santa Maria! But I wish we could find that golden temple and its idol. Perchance we may, with a strong fortress here, and a garrison in command of a good man like thyself, Rodrigo."
Leaving Colmenares to erect a fortress on a commanding bluff overlooking the gulf, and eighty soldiers to hold the Indians in check, Balboa, with fifty of his own men, returned to Darien in the canoes. He arrived none too soon, as it chanced, for, taking advantage of his absence, some seditious fellows had stirred up a disturbance. He had left in command that Bartolomé Hurtado, who had been driven from Zemaco's country after the disastrous ending of the Dobaybe expedition. He was a favorite with the governor, but a man of no particular force (as may appear from his having fled the country he was left to defend), and against him rose the most unquiet spirits of the colony, led by one Alonzo Perez de la Rua.
Hurtado may have been arrogant when he found himself invested with sole authority in the settlement, and as Alonzo Perez was a cavalier of some distinction when in Spain, he took offence at the upstart's assumptions and refused to obey him. Not content with maligning Hurtado, he proceeded to declaim against Balboa himself, denouncing him as a man of low birth whom circumstance had invested with a brief authority, and who was, he said, a creature of their own creation. "A soldier of fortune," and "absconding debtor who ought to be cooling his heels in jail," were some of the milder things he said about the absent Balboa, who, as soon as he arrived and learned what had been done, promptly arrested Alonzo Perez and confined him in the calaboose.[2] As the testy cavalier had many friends in the colony, a party was quickly formed of considerable strength, which was opposed to Balboa, and for a time a collision seemed imminent between the rival forces.
Balboa had his soldiers at his back, and doubtless could have restrained the mutineers by resorting to force; but his penetrating mind looked beyond the present, with its temporary evils, to the future and its golden promises, so he released Alonzo Perez merely with a reprimand. This action for a time appeased the factious followers of Perez; but for a matter of hours only, and the next day they assembled anew. Taking advantage of Balboa's absence in the fields, whither he had gone to superintend the Indian laborers, they seized Hurtado, and possessed themselves of weapons, which they threatened to turn against the governor himself. Alonzo Perez was again in command, and being supported in his pretensions by a lawyer, one Bachelor Corral, he demanded that Balboa should at once deliver up for division among the colonists the ten thousand pieces of gold then in the treasury.
In the estimation of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, this hoard of gold was of small account, as he expected and intended to add to it at least ten times that amount. Whatever happened, he was not willing to risk his life in defence of it, and learning that the mutineers intended to throw him into prison, provided they could secure his person, he hastily withdrew from the scene of strife, giving out that he was going hunting in the forest.
"Friend Hurtado," he said to his lieutenant, "I foresee that when those scoundrels get possession of that bone of contention, the ten thousand castellanos in our treasury, they will so abuse one another in the division of it that the sober-minded members of our community will be only too glad to recall me to restore order. Hence, let them have it. I had hoped to send it to our lord the king—and in truth I yet shall do so; but let them first have the fingering of it. Meanwhile, friend Bartholomew, we will go hunting, you and I, for it is better, methinks, to slay the beasts of the forest, which may aid in sustaining us, than our own countrymen—which we shall certainly have to do if we remain."
This was the purport of a conversation the shrewd Balboa held with Hurtado and his immediate followers, and his wisdom and foresight were soon clearly shown by the manner in which his scheme worked itself out. Alonzo Perez and his rabble seized the treasury, which he had left purposely unguarded, and with great hilarity proceeded to share among themselves the ten thousand pieces of gold. The result was what the crafty Balboa had foreseen, for a furious dispute broke out at once, and from words the mutineers came to blows.
There were still many adherents of Balboa in the community, but they had been awed into silence by the rabble. When the latter began quarrelling among themselves, however, and some of them even cried out, boldly, that their self-exiled governor had always been fair in the apportionment of the spoils, while Perez was extremely partial to himself, the friends of Balboa ventured to proclaim their own opinions.
"Who won this gold," they said, "but our own Vasco Nuñez by his enterprise and valor? Knowing him as we do, we say he would have shared it with the brave and deserving. [Probably meaning themselves.] But these men have seized upon it by unfair and factious means, and would squander it upon their minions. Out upon them, say we! Let us seize the ringleaders of this foul conspiracy and cast them into prison. Then we will send for our gallant governor and reinstate him in authority."
As most of the soldiers were absent with Balboa and Colmenares, and the mutineers were really in the minority, the temperate members of the community easily accomplished their purpose by seizing Perez, Corral, and other ringleaders and placing them in irons. They were confined in the fortress, where they had leisure to reflect upon their intemperate behavior, while a special committee of reputable citizens, appointed amid loud acclamations, was sent in search of the fugitive governor.
As may be supposed, they did not have great difficulty in finding him, for he had kept in touch with the proceedings through his scouts, and had not penetrated the forest so far that he could not be readily recalled. He was discovered in camp, surrounded by his faithful soldiers, and the whole company seemed in high spirits over their success in the chase. Wigwams had been built beneath the wide-spreading branches of umbrageous trees, and hammocks swung in which Balboa and Hurtado were lazily reclining—the time being in the heat of the day, when the delegates approached them with the proffer of reinstatement.
They had travelled fast and far, since early morning, and, having provided no refreshments for the journey, were faint, thirsty, and hungry. They looked longingly at the rude table made of palm-leaves spread upon the ground, and supplied with every kind of food and drink known to the colony. Indian cooks were busy at a barbecue over a camp-fire, the savory odors from which were simply maddening to the hungry delegates. They saw other Indians engaged in tapping the wild palms and ladling out calabashes full of palm-wine, while others still were preparing foaming chicha for their masters.
Now, the throat of the committee's spokesman was dry, and his tongue also, so that when he essayed to speak his voice entirely failed him, and he looked helplessly at his companions. Perceiving the condition of the delegates, Balboa, who had been watching them narrowly from the corner of his eye, hastily leaped from his hammock and exclaimed: "Not a word, Don Pedro, not a word, until you and your friends have slaked your thirst with draughts of our native wine. Cruel it was of me to keep you standing there, while this desayúno [breakfast] was being prepared, at which you must sit down, though it be so humble and poor of quality. Nay, I insist," he added, as the committee hesitated. "I know not your mission, caballeros; but, certes, you are faint and hungry, perchance thirsty also, so sit down, and answer not. Hither, mozos, with the calabashes of chicha and wine. Give my compañeros to drink, without delay."
The delegates gratefully accepted the food and drink so liberally profferred, and when they were refreshed the spokesman began his speech again: "Your excellency, we have come to ask you to return. The government goes ill without you—in truth, there is no government at all."
"Ha? But what of Don Alonzo and the Bachelor Corral?"
"They are in the calaboose, your excellency, and in irons."
"So? But how long will they remain, if I return. And what of the gold?"
"They will remain there at your excellency's pleasure; and the gold shall be collected and returned to the treasury."
"Bueno—good, very good. But how long, think ye, gentlemen, will ye continue in this chastened frame of mind? Not a month, not a week, before some low-born sons of Belial will provoke an outbreak against the authority of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, and declare he hath no authority to govern. If I go, gentlemen, to Darien, then it must be under a pledge that ye all will unitedly stand by me, and sustain me in every effort for the public weal. What say ye?"
"We will, we will, your excellency. Only return!"
BALBOA stretched himself in his hammock, and looking at the delegates through half-closed eyes, as though he would resume his siesta, rejoined: "Gentlemen, I do not wish to return! But here is Don Bartolomé, who might be induced to act in my place. Let him go with you and assume the reins of government."
The delegates looked the confusion they felt, but said nothing, though Hurtado hastily exclaimed, "No, no; I care not to do so."
"Neither care I," said Balboa. "For what do I get by returning? Only the semblance of a shadow of authority. All the labors, all the insults attending the office; but never a gracias, señor—never a thank you, sir, get I. But here—ah, here I have my liberty. I ask no man whether I shall come or shall go. Here I can live free from restraint—I and my merry men. What say, compañeros, shall we return?"
"Never, no never!" came in a chorus from the soldiery.
"We are content here, are we not? The forest gives us sustenance—as ye see, gentlemen; it gives us shelter. Now that I am no longer compelled to hunt the red savage, and only the wild beast when I choose, rest and happiness have come to me."
The committee consulted together for the space of five or ten minutes, then the spokesman said, with a new note in his voice and a twinkle of triumph in his eyes: "Your excellency, we have a letter for you, which I herewith deliver. We know not what it contains, for, as you may witness, the seal is still unbroken; but from what tidings we have received from some high in authority at Hispaniola, we divine it refers to the great displeasure of his majesty, the king, as respects your doings at Darien. Here is the letter, your excellency."
Balboa took the letter without remark, and broke the seal. As he read, a serious expression came over his face, and he frowned severely, seeing which the delegates nudged one another and chuckled inwardly. He had good cause, in truth, to frown, for the letter was from his friend at court, Zamudio, whom he had sent to Spain to plead his cause. It informed him of the king's indignation, kindled by the charges against him lodged at court by the lawyer Enciso, by whom he was accused of being an intruder and usurper at Darien. He was held responsible for all the disasters to the colony, and though in reality its founder, and pacificator of the savages, he was to be prosecuted on criminal charges, and might consider himself fortunate if he escaped with his life.
Such was the tenor of the letter, and such the purport of the information the committee had received before they left the settlement. This being so, it behooved Balboa to comport himself more in accordance with his changed position in the eyes of the committee, and after he had finished reading the letter he said: "This is an important communication, gentlemen, and to answer it properly I shall be compelled to return to Darien. If, then, it be your minds still to support me, we will soon set forth. But only on that understanding shall I go."
"We shall support you," answered the spokesman. "But let it be understood, however, that our support is given only as between you and other subjects of his majesty, the king. Should there be conflict of authority, as between you, Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, and his majesty, there will be no question which direction we should take."
"Nor would I, as a loyal subject of his majesty, ask more of you," rejoined Balboa, fervently. "Soldiers, companions, we will depart. Prepare for the march to town. Mozos, bring hither the wine and the chicha. Gentlemen, before we start let us drink to the health of his majesty. Long live the king!"
Then a wild scene ensued. Mingling promiscuously—cavaliers, soldiers of the ranks, and civic functionaries—the company all joined in drinking the health of their sovereign. They seized the brimming calabashes, and, lifting them to their lips, drank deeply to the toast, "Long live the king."
"Now fill again!" shouted one of the delegates. "Here's to the health of his majesty's most loyal subject, Vasco Nuñez de Balboa. May he live long as governor of Darien!"
"Viva! viva!" shouted the excited soldiery. "Long life to our governor!"
"And to his loyal supporters, these our friends," added Balboa, grimly smiling, and waving his right hand towards the delegates. "May they remain loyal—for the space of a week, and may they never have to choose between his majesty and myself, his most devoted subject and servant!"
The wine was soon gone, to the dregs, and with this as the parting toast the company broke camp and set out for town, where a new surprise awaited Balboa, in the arrival of two ships from Santo Domingo. They were laden with provisions and brought a reinforcement of two hundred soldiers and settlers, sent by the admiral, Don Diego Columbus. At the same time arrived, by the hands of the fleet's captain, a commission for Balboa as governor and captain-general. This had come from Miguel de Pasamonte, the royal treasurer of Hispaniola, a favorite of the king, sent out as a check upon the ambition of Don Diego, of whom his majesty was extremely jealous.
In this manner did fate seem to play at cross-purposes with Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, sending him tidings by one messenger of the king's disfavor, and by another of his esteem; though, to tell the truth, Pasamonte had assumed his majesty's approbation of his act, without right to do so. He had received from Balboa a large sum of gold, by a previous remittance, and this was the manner in which he requited the favor.
"Gold is most powerful, of a truth," whispered Balboa to himself, smiling the while, as he thought of the title it had won from Miguel de Pasamonte. "If, now, I could get to the king the ten thousand golden castellanos which I have recovered from those robbers, Perez and Corral, methinks such a donative might purchase exemption from the penalties which his majesty seems disposed to place upon me for my presumption in setting poor old Nicuesa adrift and sending Enciso back to Spain. Ha, I have it! I will myself go to court with the gold in my hand, and beard the royal lion in his den. Ten thousand pieces I have; at least ten thousand more may be raked and scraped in the colony, and, moreover, these shall be, to the king, but an earnest of much more to come."
Full of his new project, Balboa broached it to his counsellors without delay, but to his surprise they would not hear of it, neither would any person whatever in the colony. "No, no," they all exclaimed. "You shall not leave us, Vasco Nuñez. You are not alone our governor, but our guide and leader. You, only, are respected by the soldiers, feared by the savages, and we cannot do without you. Stay here with us you must; but we will send deputies to acquaint the king with the condition of the colony, to entreat the necessary military aid, and to plead your cause as though it were yourself in person, Vasco Nuñez."
They proved their sincerity by electing two deputies, one of them Juan de Caicedo, who had been inspector on the unfortunate Nicuesa expedition, and the other Rodrigo de Colmenares, "both men of weight, expert in negotiation, and held in general esteem." It was believed that they would satisfactorily execute their commission, and that both would return, since Caicedo left a wife behind him at Darien, and Colmenares had acquired much property, including a farm which he tilled with Indian labor, when not engaged in military operations. Balboa gladly relieved him from command of the fort at Tichiri, and rejoiced that he could send one who would so well represent his cause at court. By him he forwarded letters to the king, containing most extravagant accounts of the country's riches, not forgetting to mention the famed temple of Dobaybe, filled with gold, and the tales the Indians told respecting the gathering of gold in nets. He showed this precious epistle to the colonists, and they were all so greatly impressed with it that, one and all, they contributed gold to the extent of their hoardings, which, added to the amount sent by the government to the king, represented a goodly sum.
Balboa's commissioners left Darien del Antigua about the end of October, 1512, and arrived in Spain, after a long and tempestuous voyage, in the early part of 1513. Had they been the only messengers from that isolated colony on the isthmus, all might have gone well with its governor; but, unfortunately for him, as we know, his enemies had preceded them and spread broadcast the most pernicious tales respecting the doings of the gallant adventurer, Vasco Nuñez de Balboa.
Leaving them for a time, while the ferment is working that eventuated in the downfall of Balboa, let us continue in his company until he has accomplished that great achievement due to his heroic efforts, and with which fame has inseparably linked his name—the discovery of the Pacific Ocean.
By the information conveyed through his friend at court, Zamudio, he was assured that lawyer Enciso had obtained a judgment against him in which he was condemned for costs and damages to a large amount. This was not all, for the king was very much incensed, and had issued a summons for him to repair to Spain without delay, there to stand trial on criminal charges respecting the outrageous treatment of Nicuesa, which had probably caused his death.
It will be admitted that Vasco Nuñez was then in a terrible predicament, and that there seemed no way out of it save by a desperate venture, by which he might perhaps retrieve his fortunes, win fame, and recover the lost favor of the king. Fortunately for him, the news conveyed by Zamudio's letter had been informal, and in advance of tidings direct from the throne, so there was still time for action. When the authoritative summons should come, it would be too late; hence he could not await the reinforcements so anxiously expected from Spain, and must accomplish whatever he did before their arrival. Thus the intrepid Balboa was thrown directly upon his own resources, and resolved to set forth without the assistance from his sovereign which he had every right to expect in an undertaking so vast and venturesome as his.
Desultory and apparently aimless as had been his doings hitherto, Balboa had never for a moment lost sight of that grand scheme he had formed for exploring beyond the mountains and revealing the existence, if possible, of the great "southern sea." Cacique Comogre's son had assured him that he would need at least a thousand men to assist him, and acting upon this sage advice he had waited for reinforcements before attempting the great adventure. But now, if he waited longer, he might forever lose the opportunity, for with the reinforcements from Spain would also come the order for his arrest and transportation, or at least his dismissal from office. What he did, then, must be done quickly as well as effectually, and he lost no time in perfecting his plans.
"While another and less intrepid spirit might have been overwhelmed by the prospects before him, Balboa was animated to new daring, and impelled to yet higher enterprises. Should he permit another to profit by his toils, to discover the great South Sea, and to ravish from him the wealth and glory which were almost within his grasp? No, a thousand times no! He had won the information at risk of his life; he would realize the profit of it, even at the risk of his life. At least, no other man should avail of it, to cheat him of his dues. He did, indeed, still want the thousand men who were necessary to the projected expedition; but his enterprise, his experience, and his constancy impelled him to undertake it, even without them. He would thus, by so signal a service, blot out the original crime of his primary usurpation, and if death should overtake him in the midst of his exertions, he would die laboring for the prosperity and glory of his native land, and freed from the persecutions which then threatened him."[3]
As he would be obliged to absent himself from the colony for a long period, he made every effort to weld the various elements into a civic body that should work harmoniously and resist the disintegrating forces from within as well as from without. His first step was to set free the ringleaders of the late insurrection, which done, and assured of their co-operation, he proceeded to select his soldiers. There was no lack of volunteers when it became noised about that Balboa was to set out on the grand expedition to which all the others had been in a sense merely preliminary, and he was at greater trouble to reject than to accept those who offered for the service. Desiring none but the most dauntless spirits, he put every man applying to the severest tests. In the first place, they must be capable of enduring fatigue and hunger; in the second, they must be unflinchingly courageous, for the route of march would lie through regions occupied by hostile Indians who were said to be cannibals and gave no quarter.
"My men," he said to them one day, when haranguing them for the last time, assembled on parade, "I shall not attempt to conceal from you the perils of this enterprise. In truth, they could not, in my opinion, be greater. And, while I shall always lead, as hitherto, asking no man to go where I would not venture in advance, yet you may not have the great incentive that moves me. So far as spoils and captives are concerned, ye shall share alike with me; but there is a greater motive than mere spoils. My ambition, as ye all have known for many months, is to achieve the discovery of that great ocean said to lie beyond the mountains. That is—that shall be—the object of my endeavors, and to that the getting of captives and the plundering of natives shall be subordinate. There will be, doubtless, vast spoil, for the country we are to enter has the reputation of being rich in gold and gems. There will be danger; there will be fatigues, deaths, wounds—but, above all, there will be glory—the glory of accomplishing something of which men have dreamed for many years, but have never achieved!"
"We will do it! The glory shall be ours!" shouted the men, vociferously. "Where you lead, Vasco Nuñez, we will go!"
They were probably as daring and reckless adventurers as had ever been gathered together since the New World was discovered, then twenty years agone, and that is saying much. There were, after Balboa had selected the most resolute and vigorous of the colony, one hundred and ninety in the band, all fighting-men of the most desperate type. They were armed with cross-bows and shields, swords, lances, and arquebuses, and there was no person in the company, not even the trumpeter or the drummer-boy, who had not been brought up in the profession of arms. Balboa looked them over proudly, and he also inspected their equipment carefully, for they were to accompany him, as he himself believed, not only on a most desperate venture, but on a veritable forlorn hope, which, if it failed, must end his campaigning, and perhaps his life.
The king must be placated and his favor recovered by no lesser gift than sovereignty over a sea which no man of his race had ever seen; and that was the impelling motive of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa in this marvellous enterprise.
A BRIGANTINE and nine large canoes carried the troops up the gulf to the shores of Chief Careta's territory, where the force was augmented by a thousand friendly Indians, who served as guides and carriers, on the march from the coast to the mountains. Finding his Indian father-in-law well disposed, and no signs of disaffection, the commander left here nearly half his men, to guard the vessels and keep open a way of retreat, should it be necessary, and with one hundred picked soldiers began his perilous journey through the wilderness.
He had left the settlement on September 1st, and on the 8th arrived at the frontier of Cacique Ponca's territory, but found his village abandoned and without a sign of life within its limits. Ponca, it will be remembered, was the inveterate enemy of Careta, and as he knew the latter was in league with Balboa, he had fled with all his people to the mountain fastnesses. He was extremely reluctant to emerge from his retreat, but was at last induced to do so by repeated offers of friendship, conveyed by the peaceful Indians, and when he finally came out was won by Balboa's kindness and induced to reveal to him all he knew.
It was not politic, the governor thought, to leave behind him one so powerful as Ponca inclined to be hostile, and, moreover, he alone could furnish guides to the sea that lay beyond the mountains. These he freely placed at Balboa's disposal, at the same time not only confirming the truth of the story told by Comogre's people, as to the existence of a great sea, or ocean, but adding that the country adjacent was rich in gold. In the excess of his friendship, he presented Balboa with some golden ornaments—receiving in exchange glass beads and other trifles, precious in the sight of the Indian—and furnished the army with provisions for the journey. The golden ornaments, Ponca assured Balboa, came from the country bordering upon the great sea, to gain a glimpse of which it would only be necessary to ascend a high peak rising above the cordilleras, and visible from the village they then occupied. This peak seemed to pierce the skies, to such an altitude it rose above the surrounding hills, and its broad shoulders were covered with dense forests, so that it appeared like an island in an emerald sea.
With the departure from Chief Ponca's country the real labors of the journey began, for there was no open trail through the mountain wilderness, white men never having been there before. The Spaniards were compelled to hew their way with sword and axe, scale rugged precipices, and ford the torrents of numerous rivers. Friendly Indians carried the provisions, and the heaviest pieces of armor, but even though lightly clad and burdened only with their weapons, many of the soldiers were overcome by the combined effects of fatigue and climate, so that in the end less than seventy remained with their commander, the others having fallen by the way. Such as had strength enough returned to Coyba; but there were some who, unable to endure the journey, sank to the ground and never rose again.
Steadily climbing, at the rate of two or three leagues a day, about September 20th the little band of soldiers reached a broad plateau covered with a tangled forest through which ran deep and rapid streams. This was the country of a warlike cacique named Quaraqua, who, discovering this small body of strangers invading his province, and never having had experience with Europeans, prepared to give them a warm reception. He was at war with Ponca, and that was enough to provoke his ire, so he took the field with a swarm of ferocious savages, and thought to frighten the Spaniards by a display of force. He and his warriors were armed with spears, bows and arrows, and two-handed battle-axes made of wood, but almost as hard and as heavy as iron. They thought themselves invincible, in their ignorance of warfare as conducted by the Christian, and, yelling furiously, poured upon the Spaniards like a mountain torrent.
Sturdy Balboa was leading the advance, as usual, with his inseparable companion Leoncito by his side. This battle-scarred veteran was a hound of scarce more than medium size, but as strong and fierce as a lion. He was not only leonine in his majestic bearing, but in color also, for his hue was tawny, like that of the king of beasts. As he was considered by the soldiers the equal of any member of the force, he drew pay as one of them, and during his various campaignings earned for his master upward of a thousand crowns. The Indians of the coast country knew him well by reputation, which was so terrible that merely the sight of him would put a thousand to rout. But these Indians of the mountains knew neither the dog nor his master—though to their sorrow they were soon to make their acquaintance.
At sight of the warriors emerging in serried masses from the forest depths, Leoncito growled ominously, and as they approached within bow-shot he sprang to meet them with long leaps. A shower of arrows was sent at him and he was struck by several; but his progress was not stayed until he met a warrior in the oncoming ranks, whom he seized by the throat and bore to the ground. A moment later the hapless savage was a mangled corpse, and his fate was shared by others in swift succession, as the furious beast tore his way through the barbarian phalanx, leaving terror and destruction in his wake. The savages were surprised and alarmed by the advent of this strange animal in their midst, but they were absolutely terror-stricken when the cross-bows and arquebuses sent forth their messengers of death. Many were slain as they stood petrified with astonishment and terror; for this was their first experience with fire-arms, and they could not conceive whence came the rolling thunder of the explosions and the sheeted lightning of the flames. After the first discharge came in ringing tones Balboa's battle-cry, "Santiago, and at them, compañeros!" With bright sword drawn and gleaming in the air, he sprang towards the foe, followed close by his men.
Then ensued a scene of carnage the like of which has been many times witnessed in the encounters between Spaniards and the Indians of America. It is not a pleasant scene to dwell upon, so let it suffice to state that this "aboriginal Regulus," the rash though gallant Quaraqua, together with six hundred of his warriors, lay dead upon the field after the charge was over. Some had been pinned to the earth with lances, some cut down by swords, and others torn to pieces by the blood-hounds.
Having thus removed the obstacles to their advance, the Spaniards entered Quaraqua's town, which they quickly spoiled of all the gold and other valuables it contained. This booty Balboa shared equitably among his followers, reserving for himself no more than any other got, after deducting one-fifth the total amount for the king of Spain. By his eminent fairness to the soldiers, and by his courageous bearing on every occasion, Balboa wins the admiration of all who become cognizant of his exploits; but alas! his escutcheon is stained with the blood of many innocents. Among the prisoners taken in the town were fifty or sixty male Indians, dressed in robes of white cotton after the manner of women, and these, their enemies said, were given to unnatural crimes and followers of the devil. Whether they were or not, the Spaniards did not pause to inquire, but let loose their blood-hounds, who tore them limb from limb.
The village which Balboa had won at such cost of blood and suffering was situated at the very foot of the mountain whence, the Indians told him, the great sea could be distinctly seen. He had brought woe and desolation to its homes, but by his harsh measures the Indians had been thoroughly cowed, and, after sending back the subjects of Chief Ponca, he selected guides and carriers from the surviving Quaraquanos. As his men were exhausted by the fatigue of fighting, and in need of all their energies for what was to come, he ordered them early to rest, after they had partaken of a bountiful supper supplied from the provisions found in the village. Some were disabled by their wounds, and these were to remain behind while he, with the strong and able-bodied, pushed on over the last stage of their eventful journey.
Having made every preparation for the morrow, after posting sentinels about the camp, Balboa retired to his hammock, but not to sleep. The events of the day had been so exciting that he lay awake all night, thinking, not of what had occurred, however: not of the lives he had taken, the crimes he had committed; but of what he was to see from that rock-ribbed mountain-peak, with its head in the stars above the sombre forest. It stood out black against the sky, provokingly near, yet aloof and isolate—this peak which he had sought for many months. It had stood there for uncounted centuries, and during the æon of its existence it had never been visited by civilized man. He, Balboa, would be the first to scale its sides and stand upon its summit, the first to gaze upon the view it might reveal.
Such thoughts as these kept Vasco Nuñez de Balboa awake while his soldiers slept. So absorbing were they that he hardly heard the groans of the wounded, the cries of anguish from the poor wretches on the battlefield. Wives, mothers, and children of the dead warriors were groping in the darkness for their loved ones, and when they found the objects of their search they rent the air with piteous lamentations.
At last the dawn dispelled the shades of night. Bounding from his bed in the ocean, the morning sun sent his rays athwart the vast expanse of forest and illumined the peak in the sky so that it shone like gold. It appeared to Balboa like a beacon-flame beckoning him onward, upward, and with feverish eagerness he spurred his men to activity. It had been his intention to start in the gray dawn, to avail of the morning coolness and freshness; but his soldiers were stiff and tired, and moved slowly, so that it was within two hours of noon when they emerged from the forest and saw the great peak standing stark before them.