VOYAGE OF STRANGERS (2 page)

Indeed, we might have saved her if the Santa Maria’s master, Juan de la Cosa, had acted as he ought. The Admiral, seeing what must be done, gave immediate orders. But De la Cosa failed to obey them. Instead, he ordered his closest cronies to launch the ship’s boat and flee to the Niña, determined to save their own skins at the cost of ours if need be. This so shocked all who remained, even the Admiral, that they were gone before any thought to prevent them.

Meanwhile, increasing swells drove the Santa Maria further and further onto the coral reef. By the time Vicente Yáñez, who commanded the Niña, had ordered the fugitives back and sent a boatload of his own men to help, it was too late. With horror and despair, we watched the timbers of the hull come apart at the seams and the sea come rushing in. Before dawn, the Admiral had to command all to abandon ship and leave the dying vessel to her fate.

The disaster changed all our plans. We labored mightily to salvage the contents of the Santa Maria, while the Admiral wept. Thanks to Ha’shem for the goodwill of Guacanagarí. The cacique offered the help of his tribesmen, food for all, housing in his village to relieve the overcrowded Niña, and many pieces of gold. He shrewdly surmised that these would dry the Admiral’s tears and go some way toward consoling him for the loss of his flagship. By the day after Christmas, he had come to believe that the shipwreck was the will of the Almighty, meant to guide him to make a more permanent landing in this hospitable place and seek the fabled gold mine of Cibao. Our whole company applauded this new plan, being equally eager for gold. Only I failed to join in this feverish enthusiasm, having seen well enough how the possession of riches could lead to the envy and malice of others, as it had for the Jews of Spain.

It was decided to build a fort upon the shore within sight of the wreck of the Santa Maria. Many clamored for the privilege of being left behind to man it, having not only gold but the availability of the friendly native women as inducements. All awaited eagerly the Admiral’s choice as to which of us would go and who remain. I was happy enough working hard at building the fort, which the Admiral declared would be called La Navidad. For good measure, I made a new friend. The Admiral had enlisted Taino from the nearest village to labor alongside us. The youngest of these seemed drawn to me as the nearest to him in age. At first, he fingered my garments and asked questions beyond the smattering of Taino that I had learned earlier in the voyage. Then he began to teach me. Curious as he was about me, I was equally curious about him. What did he make of these strange white-skinned men with our birdlike yet vulnerable ships and our metal tools and weapons? What did his bright black eyes read in our faces? Could he discern the dark soul of Cabrera, the sailor who had been my tormentor on the voyage, and the Admiral’s goodness? What thoughts lay beneath the coarse, dark thatch of his hair?

I learned that the Taino took pride in their names, just as we did. The Taino boy told me his was Hutia. He made me laugh by showing me with gestures and movement that a
hutia
was a small, furry creature of the islands, the name given to him because he could run fast. He had a sister named Anacaona, golden flower.
Guarico
was “come.”
Guaibá
was “go.” Most of the sailors knew only
caona
, gold, and
chicha
, the villagers’ beer, made of corn, which they complained about but drank a good deal of nonetheless.

I had difficulty explaining “Diego,” which was the name of a Christian saint. None of the Indians had succeeded in grasping the concept of saints, eager as the Admiral was to convert them. They responded better to images of Jesus on the Cross, but only because they interpreted crucifixion as an effective way of tormenting one’s enemies—as indeed it was to the Romans who killed Jesus, or so my father had taught me. Like us, the Christians’ God was punished for being a Jew.

While we built the fort, all had a hitherto unknown measure of freedom and privacy. I was happy to complete my Chanukah observance with the loss of only three out of the eight nights of the festival. Not all had a purpose as innocent as mine in venturing beyond the mangrove swamps into the wilderness beyond. On the eve of the New Year, when all had been given several extra measures of strong drink, I witnessed, by pure chance, an act that in pure evil surpassed anything Cabrera had done before.

I stole away at twilight, being relieved from my post for the whole of the next watch. I carried my
tallit
and
t’fillin
, intending to perform my daily prayers. I had already bound the
t’fillin
around my arm and brow when I heard screams of distress coming from some distance away. I crashed through the underbrush, seeking the source of the disturbance. The raucous cry of parrots disturbed by my headlong progress mingled with the human screams, which now held a note of terror.

I burst out into a small clearing and stopped short. On the ground I beheld Cabrera, engaged in a brutal assault on a naked Indian maiden, who writhed and bucked beneath him, clearly an unwilling participant in the proceedings. He laughed as he forced her down. The girl was slight of frame, easy for Cabrera to overpower in spite of his short stature. When I caught a glimpse of her face, I realized she was young, perhaps no older than my twelve-year-old sister Rachel. Her screams grew louder. As I gazed in horror, he silenced her, first with a punch that shattered her jaw, then by seizing her about the neck and choking her until she slumped and fell back against the earth.

To my shame, I failed to act until too late. By the time the paralysis that seized me at the sight let go its hold, the girl was dead.

“Stop!” I croaked, starting forward, though I knew my tardy protest served no purpose.

As he rose from the ground, Cabrera drew a musket from his sash and pointed it at my chest.

“It’s the Admiral’s pet,” Cabrera said with an evil grin that bared his rotting teeth. “Well, boy, are you dog enough to take this bitch? You can have my leavings—before I kill you.”

“You can’t kill me,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. “As you said, the Admiral will miss me. Besides, a musket shot will bring many running and disclose your crime.”

“What crime?” he sneered, kicking the girl’s body with a booted foot. “This is but a savage.”

“As the cacique Guacanagarí is a savage?” I inquired. “The Admiral won’t thank you if you turn the Indians against us and ruin our chance to find the gold of Cibao.”

Cabrera snarled, acknowledging the justice of my point. He shrugged and tucked the unfired musket back into his sash.

“This but delays your death,” he said. “Call this moment yet another score we have to settle, you and I.”

I held back, for fear of provoking him beyond reason, the words that sprang to my tongue: What is to stop me from reporting this crime? He read them in my eyes.

“You’ll say nothing,” he declared. “Or I will report your greater crime, which will send you to the Inquisition and a shameful death.”

I had forgotten I still wore my
t’fillin
, with the prayer shawl fluttering around my neck and chest. I drew a wavering breath.

“It seems we are at a stand,” I said. “What now?”

“First, you help me bury this.” He indicated the body with a careless nod. “Then we return to the camp. And we say nothing.”

“We say nothing,” I repeated. Sick with shame and horror more than fear, I folded my
tallit
carefully and laid it on a bank of moss beneath a tree, the
t’fillin
placed within its folds. Then I turned to help him with the burial.

It took us four more days to complete the building of La Navidad. The fort’s walls were made of the Santa Maria’s timbers and its cellars stuffed with stores the men would need, including seed. For if we found the mine, their Majesties would want to establish a settlement. Conquest is for soldiers, not that we had thus far needed arms to cow the Taino. But a settlement requires farmers.

As I worked, the sun beating on my bare back and arms and turning them browner than ever, I had always an uneasy sense of Cabrera’s presence. He watched me constantly, alert for me to make some mistake or seek a seclusion that would allow him to kill me with impunity. Knowing this, I stayed close to my fellows at all times, especially Fernando. I did not tell him what was wrong, although he asked me several times. The knowledge I bore was burden enough for me without loading it on another’s shoulders. As for Hutia, having seen one of his people so wronged, I could hardly bear to meet his eyes.

The remaining days fle
w by, yet in my darker moments, they seemed unendurably long. When it came time to choose the forty men who would remain at La Navidad when the rest departed, I was tense and nervous. My palms were damp with sweat and my teeth had a tendency to chatter, despite the scorching tropical heat. I hardly knew what to hope for. Being left behind with Cabrera would prove a certain death sentence. But further voyaging under even more cramped conditions than before would provide opportunities for him to do me harm as well. To my relief, the Admiral chose Cabrera and the other cronies of the treacherous Juan de la Cosa to man the fort. Thus he separated them from De la Cosa himself, whom he naturally wanted to keep under his eye. He said nothing of me, so I would sail on with the Admiral on the Niña, there being still no sign of the Pinta.

Once the men were chosen, Admiral Columbus entered into negotiations with the cacique for interpreters who spoke the local dialect.  The chosen Indians bore little in the way of gear or possessions as they climbed into the ship’s boat, in which we would row out to the Niña. It seemed to me that in some respects they embodied Christian principles far better than the Spanish Christians. But I reminded myself that I must not criticize, for I was not free of fault myself. Thinking of how I had concealed a murder, however good the reason, I thanked Ha’shem that I did not believe in the Christians’ hell.

The new fort’s whole garrison and every soul in the village came down to the beach to see the Niña sail. I felt both glad and sorry to be leaving as I boarded the boat myself and took an oar. I paid little attention to the Indians until Hutia came running down to the boat. He called out, “
Baba! baba!
” One of our new interpreters, evidently Hutia’s father, stood up and held out his hands, which Hutia grasped. Speaking rapidly in Taino, they embraced. Their hands clung and then parted. Hutia stepped back onto the shore.

In the forefront of the crowd, I could see Cabrera with his arm around a woman. He clutched at her naked body as he leered at me. Still holding her, he raised a gourd of
chicha
, or perhaps a stronger spirit made from the plant that they called
yuca
. He waved it at me in a jeering salute, then poured the liquor down his throat.

Beside me, Hutia’s father called out, “Anacaona?”

“
Itá
,” Hutia replied. I don’t know.

The father sighed deeply. Hutia looked grave and sad, with no trace of the twinkle that usually lurked in his black eyes.

I looked from Hutia to his father and then at Cabrera on the shore. I leaped to my feet, thrusting my oar at Fernando on the bench beside me.

“Don’t let them leave without me!” I said.

I splashed through the shallows to the beach, where Hutia, looking puzzled, came down to meet me where the water met the sand. Cabrera, a quick glance told me, was paying no attention. Another woman had joined the first, and he was busily engaged in nuzzling them both. Ordinarily, this lewd behavior would have caught the Admiral’s eye and been stopped at once. But in the excitement of our departure, Cabrera clearly thought he was safe from interference.

I grasped Hutia’s shoulders with some urgency.

“Anacaona,” I said. “Is she missing?
Guaibá
?”

“
Itá
.”

“
Ocama
!” I said. Listen! “I know what happened to her.”

I turned him toward Cabrera, to direct his attention to the man without drawing anyone else’s notice as I racked my brain for Taino words to convey my meaning.

“Anacaona! That man killed her!” I could not bring myself to mime the rape, but Hutia’s face darkened as I demonstrated with my own hands and body the blow to the jaw and the squeezing of her throat.

“
Anki!
” I said. Evil person. “
Akani!
” Enemy. He had taught me these words while telling me about the fierce Caribe, who preyed on the Taino and were said to be cannibals.

“
Bara
?” he said. She is dead?

I nodded, my heart heavy.

“
Bara
!” I will kill him!

He started forward, his face flushed with rage and his hands curling into claws. I held him back.

“Wait,” I said, wishing I knew the Taino word for it, if indeed they had one. I put my arms around him from behind and turned him first toward Admiral Columbus, who was watching the ship raise sail from further down the beach, then toward the Niña itself.

“Wait until we leave. Once we are gone, you may tell whom you wish and do what you must.”