[image error]So it continues, the revisionist attack on Christopher Columbus. Historically speaking, he’s very familiar with being defamed. Don’t get me wrong, he and I would not have been friends, but we live in different times, with different values and different priorities. Life for people back then was much more brutal and difficult than it is for us today. People had to be ruthless if they were to succeed, as success was defined in that time. That said, revisionists have assigned a character to Columbus that really belongs to those who followed him.

The reputation he’s been accused of, more accurately belongs to men such as King Ferdinand and his Queen, Isabella, and to the governors of Hispaniola who replaced Columbus by order of the king. I speak of Francisco de Bobadilla and, following serious complaints about his many sadistic abuses of both the native populations and the colonists, his replacement, Don Nicolas de Orvando y Caceres, who was only a slight improvement.

The reality is, that as imperfect as Christopher Columbus may have been, he was sincere in his quest to find a new route to India in order to save European commerce from the ravages of the Muslim pirates of the Barbary Coast that infested the seas around Africa; and he was sincere in his desire to introduce the gospel of Christ to those he met along the way. But, what made him a pariah to the Spanish crown and their minions was his insistence that Spain adhere to the contract they made with him at the beginning. You see, above all things, Christopher Columbus was a man of integrity. Unfortunately there is nothing a greedy world hates more than integrity. Here’s an excerpt about him from my current project, “The Practician”.

September 1503

In Barcelona, in the Castillo Viejo, near the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, Alonzo Sanchez de Carvajal sat in the defendant’s box, sweating nervously, the only witness in a hastily assembled Court of Inquiry. He was called there to give his testimony, but he’d been treated as a criminal since the first moment of his arrival in Spain. He knew better than to suppose that it would be any different. It was a foregone conclusion that anyone other than he, any other captain of the fleet, would have been treated as a returning hero. Alonzo’s poor reception was fated, however. His close association with Admiral Columbus, assured him a measure of ill-treatment, no matter the conditions of his return. In this case, the circumstances were tragic beyond comprehension, but, in truth, the ill-treatment began long before the current tragedy struck.

More than a year ago, in May of 1502, when Alonzo was in Santo Domingo, the officials of the colony were assembling a treasure fleet. It would be the first Flota de la Plata brought together to transport the crown’s vast, New World treasures back to Spain. The governor, Don Nicolas de Orvando y Caceres, had assigned Alonzo, along with Admiral Columbus’ gold, to the most pathetic ship of the fleet, a tiny wreck called La Aguja, The Needle. It was an apt name for the narrow-beamed vessel it described. There were several reasons for this abuse. First, the assignment was made at the request of Francisco de Bobadilla, the outgoing governor of the colony, who had been feuding with Columbus ever since de Bobadilla’s arrival in 1500. Francisco de Bobadilla came to Hispaniola to replace Columbus as governor after Columbus had fallen into disfavor with the royal court of Spain. As his first official act, de Bobadilla banned Columbus from even landing on the isle of Hispaniola, thereby sowing the seed that grew into a malicious feud between the two men.

Second, de Orvando assigned Alonzo to La Aguja, knowing little of his background as a sea captain. Alonzo was more officially known as Columbus’ accountant, but Admiral Columbus originally hired him for his skill as a seaman, and later, learning of his accounting expertise, put Him in command of one of his ships, the Santiago de Palos. Columbus’ thinking was that, whatever treasures he might acquire on his second and third voyages to the West Indies, would be kept aboard the Santiago de Palos, with Alonzo as captain and in charge of its accounting. In de Bobadilla’s mind, however, and thus, de Orvando’s, giving an accountant command of the frailest ship in the fleet would certainly insure its loss at sea, and, since the only thing of value aboard the ship would be the gold belonging to his arch enemy, the loss would go unnoticed by anyone but Columbus himself. As to the ship’s crew, the governor was unconcerned about a few lives being lost as a price for sweet revenge. Especially considering those lives were, to a man, persona-non-grata. The horrible irony of the governor’s fiendish plot was that, of the thirty one ships that left the port of Santo Domingo on June 29, of 1502, only five survived the horrible storm that struck the fleet at sea that very night.

Admiral Columbus tried to warn them about the advancing storm, when he arrived the day before the fleet departed. He came seeking shelter in Santo Domingo’s small harbor, but, ignoring the Admiral’s warnings, de Orvando not only ignorantly denied refuge to Columbus, but he ordered the gold fleet to sail as well. Of the five ships that survived, only one made it to Spain, and that was the hopeless wreck called La Aguja, spared only by the superior seamanship of its accountant captain, Alonzo Sanchez de Carvajal.

Now, as Alonzo faced the inquisitor in court, he found himself defending, not just himself, as captain of the only ship to reach Spain, but also defending Admiral Columbus against charges as ridiculous as witchcraft. The inquisitor leaned in next to him, close enough that he could smell the man’s foul breath. Resting his forearms on the railing of the box in which Alonzo stood, alone, with every eye in the court riveted on him, the inquisitor asked, “And what was the weather when you left the port of Santo Domingo on June 29th?” Alonzo hesitated, and looked up at the judge, sitting behind the high bench in front of him, a scowl forming the man’s constant expression. “Well, Senior Carvajal?” The judge prompted.

Alonzo cleared his throat, nervously and answered. “The weather was fair, with a steady breeze from the west-north-west.”

“And, based on the weather, was there any reason to assume that a storm was coming your way, Captain Carvajal?”

The inquisitor only used the title, “Captain,” to establish Alonzo’s expertise in such matters, another irony added to a very long list. Alonzo began to explain, “Well, Your Excellency, there was the matter of Admiral Columbus’ warning which was based on well-founded knowledge from certain local natives. And there was the matter of the wind. Prevailing winds…”

The judge interrupted him. “Captain! The question requires only a yes, or no. Please answer in that manner.”

Alonzo felt trapped. If he answered “yes,” he would place himself squarely at the point of the inquisitor’s sword, and, if he said “no,” he would be placing Admiral Columbus in that same position. He hesitated and, to his great surprise, was saved by the inquisitor himself. “I would allow the witness to continue, Excellency, if it please the court.”

The judge looked at the inquisitor, first surprised, then, scowling again, he nodded for Alonzo to continue.

“Prevailing winds at that time of year, in the area of Hispaniola are from the southeast, so it was odd that the wind that day was steady from the west.”

The inquisitor asked, “But was there reason enough for you, yourself, to believe that it was reckless, or unsafe to leave port on the morning of June 29th?”

“Well, as I said…”

“Yes, or no, Captain!” The judge bellowed.

“Well, no, Excellency.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the inquisitor said. Then, placing his finger to his lips he turned to face the judge, and asked, “Now, you spoke of the natives, and their local knowledge, what did you mean by that, Captain Carvajal?”

Alonzo hesitated again. The question seemed innocent enough, but he knew that there was no question that he could trust from this man, or anyone in this courtroom for that matter, one and all being in mind of condemning him and along with him, Admiral Columbus. All of them, including and especially the judge, were seeking some way to relieve the Admiral of the only gold that survived the storm. He answered as circumspectly as he could without lying. “I simply mean that Admiral Columbus arrived at the port of Santo Domingo and requested shelter from an approaching storm. A storm he described as being of great magnitude. Of course, he was denied safe harbor by Governor de Orvando.”

The Inquisitor, sensing an opportunity to defame Columbus before the court, asked, “Why do you think The Admiral felt he had to ask for safe Harbor? Couldn’t he have just paid, like everyone else?” But before Alonzo could answer, the inquisitor insisted, “Isn’t it because Governor de Bobadilla, God rest his soul, had lawfully banned the Admiral from landing on Hispaniola, and, isn’t it true, that there was not the tiniest indication that a storm ‘of great magnitude’ was approaching! Is all of this not true from your own testimony, Captain Carvajal?”

Alonzo could give no answer that would expunge the court’s record of the Inquisitor’s statement. The courtroom filled with the sound of whispers and quiet murmuring, then the Inquisitor asked, in a loud voice, “So I ask you, Captain, from where did the knowledge of such a storm come?”

Alonzo gave answer, pleased to finally be allowed to respond with facts, as opposed to inuendo. “As I tried to explain earlier, Excellency, it came from the local natives employed aboard Admiral Columbus’s ship. He employs them because they are more familiar with the waters and weather patterns in the area than we are.”

Almost before the echo of Alonzo’s voice had faded from the cavernous room the Inquisitor shot back at him, “And how is it these natives could have such knowledge, Captain?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Alonzo answered, adding, “it’s as I said before, they have local knowledge based on experience that we don’t have. I suppose the knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, as part of their culture.”

The inquisitor turned, grinning at the judge, as if he’d scored a great victory. He repeated, “Part of their culture indeed.” Then he turned back to Alonzo and asked, “Did you believe the warning that came to you from these natives?”

“Well, yes.”

“And yet, you left port in a ship you have described as being un-seaworthy.”

Alonzo sat silent, unsure whether the Inquisitor’s rhetoric required a response, but the judge glared down at him and said, “Answer, Captain!”

“Yes.” Alonzo responded, adding, “I was ordered to leave, in spite of the condition of my ship, by both Governor de Orvando and Governor de Bobadilla, who was in command of the fleet, and I obeyed those orders.”

“And now you would tarnish the reputation of the dead?” The inquisitor charged, referring to de Bobadilla’s death at sea. The remark was meant to further inflame the court against Alonzo. He asked then, “What would have happened if you had refused to obey, Captain, since your ship was not manifested in the fleet?”

Alonzo sat silent. The question suggested a scenario he’d not considered before, but now that he did, he saw no legal ramifications for refusing the order. He answered truthfully. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“And yet you left port. So, clearly, given the weather conditions that day, you had no reason to believe the warnings.”

“But I…”

The Inquisitor interrupted him. “These natives aboard Admiral Columbus’s ship, do you know them, do you know who they are? Have you ever met them, or seen them?”

“I have spent some time among them, yes.”

“Is not one of them the son of an important member of their tribe?”

“Yes.”

“And what is this tribe called?”

“They are Tainos.”

“A prince of some sort, is he not?” The Inquisitor informed the court. “With an entourage, I am told, all given by his father to Admiral Columbus, as guides?”

“Yes.”

“And what was that man’s name?”

“The boy,” Alonzo corrected. “He is just a boy. His name is Guacanagari.”

“Why would the king of the Tainos tribe send a boy as guide for Admiral Columbus?”

Alonzo was unsure, but he answered truthfully. “The king told the Admiral that the boy was very knowledgeable of the local waters and that he had a gift, that he had visions, insight.”

Seeming to ignore the answer, the Inquisitor asked, “Would you say that these natives are a religious people, Captain?”

Alonzo balked, seeing now where the inquisitor’s line of questioning was leading. He tried to think of an answer that would divert him into some other line, but it was, perhaps, too late for that.

“Answer the question, Captain!” The judge bellowed.

“Captain?” The inquisitor followed.

Alonzo looked out at the sea of faces that filled the courtroom, a virtual mob of high-strung emotion. Most present had suffered great losses in the terrible storm that took the Flota to the bottom of the sea , both personal and financial losses. In some cases, the loss was irrecoverable, being the life of a loved one. In other cases, financial recovery would require another lifetime. Beads of sweat formed on Alonzo’s forehead.

“I warn you, Captain!” The judge threatened, implying contempt.

“Yes,” Alonzo finally admitted. “I suppose you could say they are religious.”

The inquisitor grinned knowingly, then asked, “And do they share our belief in the One True God, and in our Savior, God’s son, Jesus Christ?” He turned, grinning, to the mob.

Alonzo looked down at his hands, white knuckled, gripping the rail, then, twitching nervously he answered in a suppressed tone, “No.”

“What was that, Captain?” The inquisitor asked. “I couldn’t quite hear you.” Alonzo looked up, glaring. “I said, NO!”

The trap was sprung.

“So they are Pagans,” the Inquisitor pointed out.

“Yes, I suppose they are.”

“And does their heathen religious practice include the use of ritual sorcery, magic?”

Again, Alonzo balked at the question. “Answer, Captain,” the judge ordered, calmer this time, now that he could see the case was made.

“Your Excellency,” Alonzo pleaded, “I am no expert on religion, especially Pagan religions. I’m but a simple sea captain and accountant.”

The inquisitor turned to face him. Drawing very close, he said, “But you know the answer to this question. Tell the court what you know, what you’ve witnessed.”

Alonzo closed his eyes and sighed. In his mind he could picture the Taino entourage aboard Columbus’ flag ship, the Mariagalante. He remembered witnessing their rituals and incantations on several occasions. He answered with the only truth he knew, what he had witnessed with his own eyes. “Yes, they use magic and ritual sorcery.”

“Thank you Captain,” the Inquisitor said, graciously, before going on, “And this guide Admiral Columbus was given, this son of great importance to the tribe, is he not the son of the tribe’s chief sorcerer, their high priest, in effect?”

All eyes in the courtroom were wide with anticipation. Unable to look at them, Alonzo lowered his head and answered the question in the only honest way he could. “Yes.”

The inquisitor was gleeful when he asked the next question. “When this guide, son of the tribal sorcerer, informed Admiral Columbus of an approaching storm, a tempest you described in your deposition as ‘the most terrible storm you have ever experienced.’ A storm that, your words, ‘seemed to have a demonic intelligence’. Did he not have a specific name for such a storm?”

Alonzo simply nodded in answer.

“Is that a ‘yes,’ Captain?”

“Yes,” Alonzo answered impatiently.

“And what did he call this ‘demonic’ storm, as you described it?”

For the third time Alonzo balked at the question. He sat quietly defeated, shaking his head.

“Captain!” The judge reminded him.

“He called this type of storm, ‘Hurucan’.”

“And what does that mean in our language?”

“It is the name of one of their gods, the god of storms and lightening.”

With a flourish of his robes, as if preparing for the estocada, the final thrust, the Inquisitor turned to face the judge and said, with an air of great satisfaction, “So, Your Honor, I submit to this court that Christopher Columbus, by the use of sorcery, ordered his guide, one Guacanagari, son of the tribe’s Pagan high priest, a witch in fact, to conjure this storm from a Pagan god known by him as Hurucan, and this in retribution against his hated enemy, Governor de Bobadilla, may God rest his soul.” The inquisitor turned to face Alonzo then. His eyes were filled with a lust for blood and he added to the charge, “And, by circumstance, also against the king of Spain.” At this, the courtroom erupted into loud shouts calling for Columbus to be arrested and hung.