Columbus_ The Four Voyages - Laurence Bergreen [47]
An official visit from an Indian leader prompted Columbus, attentive to matters of status, to ponder the unfamiliar term cacique. “The Admiral had been unable to understand whether they used this for ‘king’ or ‘governor.’” As for the designation, Columbus “didn’t know whether they say this for ‘hidalgo’ or ‘governor’ or ‘judge.’” In practice, a cacique could be considered an important chieftain just below the rank of king.
This cacique demonstrated his importance by bringing with him a retinue of two thousand men, who “showed much honor to the ships’ people, and the populace, every one,” by bringing food, drink, cotton cloth, and especially for the Admiral, colorful parrots. And, of course, more gold. Finally, the Indians took their leave, “carrying on their backs what the cacique and others had given them down to the boats that remained at the entrance to the river.”
It was now Monday, Christmas Eve, and as soon as a promising offshore breeze stirred the rigging, he gave the order to weigh anchor, taking with him an Indian “who seemed better disposed and devoted or who spoke with more pleasure,” charged with locating the elusive gold mines sought by the Admiral on the basis of his mentioning the word “Çybao.” Columbus thought he heard the guide pronounce a near homonym, Çipango, Marco Polo’s name for Japan. The actual Cibao denotes the central region of the island of Hispaniola, and on that slender basis, Columbus leaped to the conclusion that his little fleet had made it to Marco Polo’s Asia, where the houses had roofs of gold.
Noticing the Admiral’s excitement, the cacique compounded the miscommunication by speaking of a “great quantity of gold there.” He indicated the “banners of beaten gold” he bore. Columbus yearned to claim this glittering wealth in the name of Ferdinand and Isabella.
By eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve, with his ships running confidently before a light breeze, the Admiral “decided to stretch out and sleep.” He was exhausted from the rigors of the voyage, along with the rest of the crew, and had been drinking in celebration of the holiday. And that was when the trouble started. “As it was calm, the seaman who steered the ship decided to go to sleep, and hand over the tiller to the ship’s boy, which the Admiral had always strictly forbidden during the entire voyage, come wind come calm; namely that they should let the ship’s boy steer.” Nevertheless, a lad of about fourteen or fifteen now guided Santa María.
“It pleased Our Lord that at Midnight, after they had seen the Admiral lie down and rest, and seeing there was dead calm and the sea like [water] in a porringer”—a shallow bowl usually equipped with a handle—“all lay down to sleep, and the tiller remained in the hand of the small boy, and the currents carried the ship upon one of the banks which, even though it was night, made a sound so they could be heard and seen a good league off.” It was the grating thud of the keel grinding into sand. The ship came to an abrupt halt, stranded. The most significant voyage of discovery, years in the making, backed by the most powerful rulers in Europe, threatened to end on a calm night and a gentle sea at the hands—just one small hand, to be exact—of an innocent youth who steered the ship.
“The boy, who felt the tiller, and heard the sound of the sea, gave tongue, at which the Admiral jumped up and was so prompt that no one had yet felt that they were aground.” Unseen below the water’s surface, not one but three coral reefs presented a concealed, treacherous barrier.
Columbus roared at Santa María’s master and owner, Juan de la Cosa, to secure the longboat they towed astern, grab an anchor, and take it into the longboat. Cosa, accompanied by other desperate crew members, jumped into the longboat as the Admiral assumed they were taking