Pastwatch: The Redemption Of Christopher Columbus

Chapter 12 -- Refuge

The woman up in the mountain had cursed him, but Cristoforo knew that it was not by any sort of witchery. The curse was that he couldn't think of anything but her, anything but what she had said. Every subject kept leading back to the challenges she had issued.

Could God have possibly sent her? Was she, at last, the first reaffirmation he had received since that vision on the beach? She knew so much: The words that the Savior had spoken to him. The language of his youth in Genova. His sense of guilt about his son, left to be raised by the monks of La Rdbida.

Yet she was nothing like what he looked for. Angels were dazzling white, weren't they? That's how all the artists showed them. So perhaps she wasn't an angel. But why would God send her a woman -- an African woman? Weren't black people devils? Everyone said so, and in Spain it was well known that black Moors fought like demons. And among the Portuguese it was well known that the black savages of the Guinea coast engaged in devil worship and magic, and cursed with diseases that quickly killed any white man who dared set foot on African shores.

On the other hand, his purpose was to baptize the people he found at the end of his voyage, wasn't it? If they could be baptized, it meant they could be saved. If they could be saved, then perhaps she was right, and once they were converted these people would be Christian and have the same rights as any European.

But they were savages. They went about naked. They couldn't read or write.

They could learn.

If only he could see the world through his page's eyes. Young Pedro was obviously smitten with Chipa. Dark as she was, squat and ugly, she did have a good smile, and no one could deny that she was as smart as any Spanish girl. She was learning about Christ. She insisted on being baptized at once. When that happened, shouldn't she have the same protection as any other Christian?

"Captain-General," said Segovia, "you must pay attention. Things are getting out of hand with the men. Pinzўn is impossible -- he obeys only those orders he happens to agree with, and the men obey only those orders that he consents to."

"And what would you have me do?" asked Cristoforo. "Clap him in irons?"

"That's what the King would have done."

"The King had irons. Ours are at the bottom of the sea. And the King also had thousands of soldiers to see to it his words were obeyed. Where are my soldiers, Segovia?"

"You have not acted with sufficient authority."

"I'm sure you would have done better in my place."

"That is not impossible, Captain-General."

"I see that the spirit of insubordination is contagious," said Cristoforo. "But rest easy. As the black woman in the mountain said, it will be one calamity after another. Perhaps after the next calamity, you'll find yourself in command of this expedition as the King's inspector."

"I could not do a worse job of it than you."

"Yes, I'm sure that's right," said Cristoforo. "That Turk would not have blown up the Pinta, and you would have peed on the Nina and put the fire out."

"I see that you forget in whose name I speak."

"Only because you have forgotten whose charter I bear. If you have authority from the King, kindly remember that I have a greater authority from the same source. If Pinzўn chooses to blow over the last remnants of that authority, I am not the only one who will fall in that wind."

Yet no sooner was Segovia gone than Cristoforo was once again trying to puzzle out what God expected of him. Was there anything he could do now to bring the men back under his command? Pinzўn had them building a ship, but these weren't the shipbuilders of Palos here, these were common sailors. Domingo was a good cooper, but making a barrel wasn't the same as laying a keel. Lopez was a caulker, not a carpenter. And most of the other men were clever enough with their hands, but what none of them had in his head was the knowledge, the practice of building a ship.

They had to try, though. Had to try, and if they failed the first time, try again. So there was no quarrel between Cristoforo and Pinzўn over the effort to build a ship. The quarrel came over the way the men were treating the Indians that they needed to help them. The generous spirit of cooperation that Guacanagari's people had shown in helping unload the Santa Maria had long since faded. The more the Spaniards ordered them around, the less the Indians did. Fewer and fewer of them showed up each day, which meant that those who did got treated even worse. They seemed to think that every Spaniard, no matter how low in rank or station, was entitled to give commands -- and punishments -- to any Indian, no matter how young or old, no matter ...

These thoughts come from her, Cristoforo realized again. Until I spoke with her, I didn't question the right of white men to give commands to brown ones. Only since she poisoned my mind with her strange interpretation of Christianity did I start seeing the way the Indians quietly resist being treated like slaves. I would have thought of them the way Pinzўn does, as worthless, lazy savages. But now I see that they are quiet, gentle, unwilling to provoke a quarrel. They endure a beating quietly -- but then don't return to be beaten again. Except that even some who have been beaten still return to help, of their own free will, avoiding the cruelest of the Spaniards but still helping the others as much as they can. Isn't this what Christ meant when he said to turn the other cheek? If a man compels you to walk a mile with him, then walk the second mile by your own choice -- wasn't that Christianity? So who were the Christians? The baptized Spaniards, or the unbaptized Indians?

She has turned the world upside down. These Indians know nothing of Jesus, and yet they live by the Savior's word, while the Spanish, who have fought for centuries in the name of Christ, have become a bloodthirsty, brutal people. And yet no worse than any other people in Europe. No worse than the bloody-handed Genovese, with their feuds and murders. Was it possible that God had brought him here, not to bring enlightenment to the heathen, but to learn it from them?

"The Taino way is not always better," said Chipa.

"We have better tools," said Cristoforo. "And better weapons."

"I meant, how do you say? The Taino kill people for the gods. Sees-in-the-Dark said that when you taught us about Christ, we would understand that one man already died as the only sacrifice ever needed. Then the Taino would stop killing people. And the Caribs would stop eating them."

"Holy Mother," said Pedro. "They do that?"

"The people from the lowlands say so. The Caribs are terrible monster people. The Taino are better than they are. And we of Ankuash are better than the Taino. But Sees-in-the-Dark says that when you are ready to teach us, we will see that you are the best of all."

"We Spanish?" asked Pedro.

"No, him. You, Colўn."

It's nothing but flattery, Cristoforo told himself. That's why Sees-in-the-Dark has been teaching Chipa and the other people of Ankuash to say things like that. The only reason I'm so happy when I hear such things is because it makes such a contrast to the malicious rumors being spread among my own crew. Sees-in-the-Dark wants me to think of the people of Ankuash as if they were my true people, instead of the Spanish crew.

What if it was true? What if the whole purpose of this voyage was to bring him here, where he could meet the people God had prepared to receive the word of Christ?

No, it couldn't be that. The Lord spoke of gold, of great nations, of crusades. Not an obscure mountain village.

She said that when I was ready, she'd show me the gold.

We have to build a ship. I have to hold the men together long enough to build a ship, return to Spain, and come back with a larger force. One with more discipline. One without Martin Pinzўn. But I'll also bring priests, many of them, to teach the Indians. That will satisfy Sees-in-the-Dark. I can still do all of it, if I can just hold things together here long enough to get the ship built.

Putukam clucked her tongue. "Things are very bad, Chipa says."

"How bad?" asked Diko.

"Chipa says that her young man, Pedro, is always begging Colўn to leave. She says that some of the boys have tried to warn Pedro, so he can warn the cacique. They plan to kill him."

"Who?"

"I can't remember the names now, Sees-in-the-Dark, " said Putukam, laughing. "Do you think I'm as smart as you?"

Diko sighed. "Why can't he see that he has to leave, he has to come here?"

"He may be white, but he's still a man," said Putukam. "Men always think they know the right thing, and so they don't listen."

"If I leave the village to go down the mountain and watch over Colўn, who will carry the water here?" asked Diko.

"We carried water before you came," said Putukam. "The girls are all getting fat and lazy now."

"If I leave the village to watch over Colўn and bring him safely here, who will watch over my house so Nugkui doesn't move someone else in here, and give away all my tools?"

"Baiku and I will take turns watching," said Putukam.

"Then I'll go," said Diko. "But I won't make him come. He has to come here under his own power, of his own free will."

Putukam looked at her, impassively.

"I don't make people do things against their will," said Diko.

Putukam smiled. "No, Sees-in-the-Dark. You just refuse to leave them alone until they change their minds. Of their own free will."

The mutiny finally came out in the open because of Rodrigo de Triana, perhaps because he had more reason to hate Colўn than any other, having been cheated out of his prize for being first to see land. Yet it didn't happen according to anyone's plan, as far as Pedro could see. The first he knew about it was when the Taino named Dead Fish came running. He spoke so rapidly that Pedro couldn't understand him, even though he had been makinff Drogyress with the language. Chipa understood, though, and she looked angry. "They're raping Parrot Feather," she said. "She's not even a woman. She's younger than me."

At once Pedro called out to Caro, the silversmith, to go fetch the officers. Then he ran with Chipa, following Dead Fish outside the stockade.

Parrot Feather looked like she was dead. Limp as a rag. It was Moger and Clavijo, two of the criminals who had signed on in order to get a pardon. They were the ones who had obviously been doing the rape -- but Rodrigo de Triana and a couple of other sailors from the Pinta were looking on, laughing.

"Stop it!" Pedro screamed.

The men looked at him like a bug on their bed, to be flicked away.

"She's a child!" he shouted at them.

"She's a woman now," said Moger. Then he and the others burst out laughing again.

Chipa was already heading for the girl. Pedro tried to stop her. "No, Chipa."

But Chipa seemed oblivious to her own danger. She tried to get around one of the men to see to Parrot Feather. He shoved her out of the way -- and into the hands of Rodrigo de Triana. "Let me see if she's alive," Chipa insisted.

"Leave her alone," said Pedro. But now he wasn't shouting.

"Looks like this one's a volunteer," said Clavijo, running his fingers along Chipa's cheek.

Pedro reached for his sword, knowing that there was no hope of him prevailing against any of these men, but knowing also that he had to try.

"Put the sword away," said Pinzўn, behind him.

Pedro turned. Pinzўn was at the head of a group of officers. The Captain-General was not far behind.

"Let go of the girl, Rodrigo," said Pinzўn.

He complied. But instead of heading back toward safety, Chipa made for the girl, still lying motionless on the ground, putting her head to the girl's chest to listen for a heartbeat.

"Now let's get back to the stockade and get to work," said Pinzўn.

"Who is responsible for this?" demanded Colўn.

"I've taken care of it," said Pinzўn.

"Have you?" asked Colўn. "The gifl is obviously just a child. This was a monstrous crime. And it was stupid, too. How much help do you think we'll get from the Indians now?"

"If they don't help us willingly," said Rodrigo de Triana, "then we'll go get them and make them help."

"And while you're at it, you'll take their women and rape them all, is that the plan, Rodrigo? Is that what you think it means to be a Christian?" asked Colўn.

"Are you a Captain-General, or a bishop?" asked Rodrigo. The other men laughed.

"I said I've taken care of it, Captain-General," said Pinzўn.

"By telling them to get back to work? What kind of work will we get done if we have to defend ourselves against the Taino?"

"These Indians aren't fighters," said Moger, laughing. "I could fight off every man in the village with one hand while I was taking a shit and whistling."

"She's dead," said Chipa. She arose from the body of the girl and started back toward Pedro. But Rodrigo de Triana caught her by the shoulder.

"What happened here shouldn't have happened," said Rodrigo to Colўn. "But it's not that important, either. Like Pinzўn said, let's get back to work."

For a few moments, Pedro thought that the Captain-General was going to let this pass, just as he had let so many other slights and contemptuous acts go by unremarked. Keeping the peace, Pedro understood that. But this was different. The men started to disperse, heading back toward the stockade.

"You killed a girl!" Pedro shouted.

Chipa was heading for Pedro, but once again Rodrigo reached out his hand to catch her. I should have waited a little longer, thought Pedro. I should have held my tongue.

"Enough," said Pinzўn. "Let's have no more of this."

But Rodrigo couldn't let the accusation go unanswered. "Nobody meant her to die," said Rodrigo.

"If she was a girl of Palos," said Pedro, "you would kill the men who did this to her. The law would demand it!"

"Girls of Palos," said Rodrigo, "don't go around naked."

"You are not civilized!" shouted Pedro. "Even now, by holding Chipa that way, you are threatening to murder again!"

Pedro felt the Captain-General's hand on his shoulder. "Come here, Chipa," said Colўn. "I will need you to help me explain this to Guacanagari."

Chipa immediately tried to obey him. For a moment, Rodrigo restrained her. But he could see that no one was behind him on this, and he let her go. At once Chipa returned to Pedro and Colўn.

But Rodrigo could not resist a parting shot. "So, Pedro, apparently you're the only one who gets to go rutting on Indian girls."

Pedro was livid. Pulling at his sword, he stepped forward. "I've never touched her!"

Rodrigo immediately began to laugh. "Look, he intends to defend her honor! He thinks this little brown bitch is a lady!" Other men began to laugh.

"Put the sword away, Pedro," said Colўn.

Pedro obeyed, stepping back to rejoin Chipa and Colўn.

Again the men began moving toward the stockade. But Rodrigo couldn't leave well enough alone. He was making comments, parts of them clearly audible. "Happy little family there," he said, and other men laughed. And then, a phrase, "Probably plowing his own furrow in her, too."

But the Captain-General seemed to be ignoring them. Pedro knew that this was the wisest course, but he couldn't stop thinking about the dead girl lying back there in the clearing. Was there no justice? Could white men do anything to Indians, and no one would punish them?

The officers were first through the stockade gate. Other men had gathered there, too. The men who had been involved in the rape -- whether doing it or merely watching -- were the last. And as they reached the gate and it closed behind them, Colўn turned to Arana, the constable of the fleet, and said, "Arrest those men, sir. I charge Moger and Clavijo with rape and murder. I charge Triana, Vallejos, and Franco with disobedience to orders."

Perhaps if Arana had not hesitated, the sheer force of Colўn's voice would have carried the day. But he did hesitate, and then spent a few moments looking to see which of the men would be likely to obey his orders.

That gave Rodrigo de Triana time enough to collect himself. "Don't do it!" he shouted. "Don't obey him! Pinzўn already told us to go back to work. Are we going to let this Genovese flog us because of a little accident?"

"Arrest them," said Colўn.

"You, you, and you," said Arana. "Put Moger and Clavijo under--"

"Don't do it!" shouted Rodrigo de Triana.

"If Rodrigo de Triana advocates mutiny again," said Colўn, "I order you to shoot him dead."

"Wouldn't you like that, Colўn! Then there'd be nobody to argue over who saw land that night!"

"Captain-General," said Pinzўn quietly. "There's no need to talk of shooting people."

"I have given an order to arrest five seamen," said Colўn. "I am waiting for obedience."

"Then you'll have a hell of a long wait!" cried Rodrigo.

Pinzўn put out a hand and touched Arana's arm, urging him to delay. "Captain-General," said Pinzўn. "Let's just wait until tempers cool down."

Pedro gasped. He could see that Segovia and Gutierrez were just as shocked as he was. Pinzўn had just mutinied, whether he meant it that way or not. He had come between the Captain-General and the Constable, and had restrained Arana from obeying Colўn's order. Now he stood there, face to face with Colўn, as if daring him to do anything about it.

Colўn simply ignored him, and spoke to Arana. "I'm waiting."

Arana turned to the three men he had called upon before. "Do as I ordered you, men," he said.

But they did not move. They looked at Pinzўn, waiting.

Pedro could see that Pinzўn did not know what to do. Probably didn't know what he wanted. It was obvious now, if it had not been obvious before, that as far as the men were concerned, Pinzўn was the commander of the expedition. Yet Pinzўn was a good commander, and knew that discipline was vital to survival. He also knew that if he ever intended to return to Spain, he couldn't do it with a mutiny on his record.

At the same time, if he obeyed Colўn now, he would lose the support of the men. They would feel betrayed. It would diminish him in their minds.

So ... what was the most important to him? The devotion of the men of Palos, or the law of the sea?

There was no way of knowing what Pinzўn would have chosen. For Colўn did not wait until he finally made up his mind. Instead he spoke to Arana. "Apparently Pinzўn thinks that it is for him to decide whether the orders of the Captain-General will be obeyed or not. Arana, you will arrest Martin Pinzўn for insubordination and mutiny."

While Pinzўn dithered about whether to cross the line, Colўn had recognized the simple fact that he had already crossed it. Colўn had law and justice on his side. Pinzўn, however, had the sympathy of almost all the men. No sooner had Colўn given the order than the men roared their rejection of his decision, and almost at once they became a mob, seizing Colўn and the other officers and dragging them to the middle of the stockade.

For a moment, Pedro and Chipa were forgotten -- the men had apparently been thinking of mutiny for long enough to have figured out who it was that they needed to subdue. Colўn himself, of course, and the royal officers. Also Jacome el Rico, the financial agent; Juan de la Cosa, because he was a Basque, not a man of Palos, and therefore couldn't be trusted; and Alonso the physician, Lequeitio the gunner, and Domingo the cooper.

Pedro moved as unobtrusively as possible toward the gate of the stockade. He was about thirty yards from where the officers and loyal men were being restrained, but someone would be bound to notice when he opened the gate. He took Chipa by the hand, and said to her, in halting Taino, "We will run. When gate open."

She squeezed his hand to show that she understood.

Pinzўn had apparently realized that it looked very bad for him, that he and his brothers had not been restrained with the other officers. Unless they killed all the royal officials, someone would testify against him in Spain. "I oppose this," he said loudly. "You must let them go at once."

"Come on, Martin," shouted Rodrigo. "He was charging you with mutiny."

"But Rodrigo, I am not guilty of mutiny," said Pinzўn, speaking very clearly, so that everyone could hear. "I oppose this action. I won't allow you to continue. You will have to restrain me, too."

After a moment, Rodrigo finally got it. "You men," he said, giving orders as naturally as if he had been born to it. "You'd better seize Captain Pinzўn and his brothers." From where he was standing, Pedro couldn't see whether Rodrigo winked as he said this. But he hardly needed to. Everyone knew that the Pinzўns were only being restrained because Martin had asked for it. To protect him from a charge of mutiny.

"Harm no one," said Pinzўn. "If you have any hope of seeing Spain again, harm no one."

"He was going to flog me, the lying bastard!" cried Rodrigo. "So let's see how he likes the lash!"

If they dared to lay the lash to Colўn, Pedro realized, then there was no hope for Chipa. She would end up like Parrot Feather, unless he got her out of the stockade and safely into the forest.

"Sees-in-the-Dark will know what to do," Chipa said quietly in Taino.

"Quiet," said Pedro. Then he gave up on Taino and continued in Spanish. "As soon as I get the gate open, ran through it and head for the nearest trees."

He dashed for the gate, lifted the heavy crossbar, and let it drop out of the way. At once an outcry arose among the mutineers. "The gate! Pedro! Stop him! Get the girl! Don't let her get to the village!"

The gate was heavy and hard to move. It felt like it was taking a long time, though it was only moments. Pedro heard the discharge of a musket, but didn't hear any bullet striking nearby -- at that range, muskets weren't very accurate. As soon as Chipa could squeeze through, she did, and a moment later Pedro was behind her. But there were men in pursuit of them, and Pedro was too frightened to dare to stop and look to see how close they were.

Chipa ran light as a deer across the clearing and dodged into the undergrowth at the forest's edge without so much as disturbing the leaves. By comparison, Pedro felt like an ox, clumping along, his boots pounding, sweat flowing under his heavy clothing. His sword smacked against his thigh and calf as he ran. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him, closer and closer. Finally, with a killing burst of speed he broke into the underbrush, vines tangling around his face, gripping his neck, trying to force him back out into the open.

"Quiet," said Chipa. "Hold still and they won't be able to see you."

Her voice calmed him. He stopped thrashing at the leaves, and then discovered that by moving slowly it was easy to duck through the vines and thin branches that had been holding him. Then he followed Chipa to a tree with a low-forking branch. She lifted herself easily up onto the branch. "They're going back into the stockade," she said.

"Nobody's following us?" Pedro was a little disappointed. "They must not think we matter."

"We have to get Sees-in-the-Dark," said Chipa.

"No need," said a woman's voice.

Pedro looked around frantically, but still couldn't see where the voice was coming from. It was Chipa who spotted her. "Sees-in-the-Dark!" she cried. "You're here already!"

Now Pedro could see her, dark in the shadows. "Come with me," she said. "This is a very dangerous time for Colўn."

"Can you stop them?" asked Pedro.

"Be quiet and follow me," she answered.

But he could only follow Chipa, for he lost sight of Sees-in-the-Dark from the moment she moved away. Soon he found himself at the base of a tall tree. Looking up, he could see Chipa and Sees-in-the-Dark perched on high branches. Sees-in-the-Dark had some kind of complicated musket. But how could a weapon be of any use from this far away?

Diko watched through the scope of the tranquilizer gun. While she was busy intercepting Pedro and Chipa, the mutineers had stripped Cristoforo to the waist and tied him to the cornerpost of one of their cabins. Now Moger was preparing to lay on the lash.

Which were the ones whose anger was driving the mob? Rodrigo de Triana, of course, and Moger and Clavijo. Anyone else?

Behind her, clinging to another branch, Chipa spoke quietly. "If you were here, Sees-in-the-Dark, why didn't you help Parrot Feather?"

"I was watching the stockade," said Diko. "I didn't know anything was wrong until I saw Dead Fish run in and get you. You were wrong, you know. Parrot Feather isn't dead."

"I couldn't hear her heart."

"It was very faint. But after all the white men left, I gave her something that will help. And I sent Dead Fish to get the women of the village to help her."

"If I hadn't said that Parrot Feather was dead, then all the rest of this--"

"It was going to happen, one way or another," said Diko. "That's why I was here, waiting."

Even without the scope, Chipa could see that Colўn was being flogged. "They're whipping him," she said.

"Quiet," said Diko.

She took careful aim at Rodrigo and pulled the trigger. There was a popping sound. Rodrigo shrugged. Diko aimed again, this time at Clavijo. Another pop. Clavijo scratched his head. Aiming at Moger was harder, because he was moving so much as he laid on with the lash. But when she got the shot off, it also struck true. Moger paused and scratched his neck.

It was the weapon of last resort for her, firing these tiny laser-guided missiles that struck and dropped off immediately, leaving behind a dart as tiny as a bee sting. It took only seconds for the drug to reach their brains, quickly damping down their aggression, making them passive and lackadaisical. It wouldn't kill anybody, but with the leaders suddenly losing interest, the rest of the mob would cool off.

Cristoforo had never been beaten like this before, not even as a boy. It hurt far worse than any physical pain he had ever suffered before. And yet the pain was also far less than he had feared, because he found that he could bear it. He grunted involuntarily with each blow, but the pain wasn't enough to quell his pride. They would not see the Captain-General beg for mercy or weep under the lash. They would remember how he bore their treachery.

To his surprise, the flogging ended after only a half dozen blows. "Oh, that's enough," said Moger.

It was almost unbelievable. His rage had been so hot only a few moments before, screaming about how Colўn had called him a murderer and he'd see what it felt like when Moger actually tried to hurt somebody.

"Cut him down," said Rodrigo. He, too, sounded more calm. Almost bored. It was as if the hate in them had suddenly spent itself.

"I'm sorry, my lord," whispered Andres Yevenes as he untied the knots that held his hands. "They had the guns. What could we boys have done?"

"I know who the loyal men are," whispered Cristoforo.

"What are you doing, Yevenes, telling him what a good boy you are?" demanded Clavijo.

"Yes," said Yevenes defiantly. "I'm not with you."

"Not that anyone cares," said Rodrigo.

Cristoforo could not believe how Rodrigo had changed. He looked uninterested. For that matter, so did Moger and Clavijo, the same kind of dazed look on their faces. Clavijo kept scratching his head.

"Moger, you keep guard on him," said Rodrigo. "You too, Clavijo. You've got the most to lose if he gets away. And you men, put the rest of them into Segovia's cabin."

They obeyed, but everyone was moving slower, and most of the men looked sullen or thoughtful. Without the fire of Rodrigo's rage to drive them, many of them were obviously having second thoughts. What would happen to them when they got back to Palos?

Only now did Cristoforo realize how much the lash had hurt him. When he tried to take a step, he discovered he was dizzy from loss of blood. He staggered. He heard several men gasp, and some murmured. I'm too old for this, thought Cristoforo. If I had to be whipped, it should have happened when I was younger.

Inside his cabin, Cristoforo endured the pain as Master Juan laid on some nasty salve, then laid a light cloth over his back. "Try not to move much," said Juan -- as if Cristoforo needed to be told. "The cloth will keep the flies off, so leave it there."

Lying there, Cristoforo thought back over what had happened. They meant to kill me. They were filled with rage. And then, suddenly, they were not even interested in hurting me anymore. What could have caused that, but the Spirit of God softening their hearts? The Lord does watch over me. He does not want me to die yet.

Moving slowly, gently, so as not to disturb the cloth or cause too much pain, Cristoforo crossed himself and prayed. Can I still fulfill the mission you gave me, Lord? Even after the rape of that girl? Even after this mutiny?

The words came into his mind as clearly as if he were hearing the woman's own voice: "One calamity after another. Until you learn that humility."

What humility was that? What was it he was supposed to learn?

Late in the afternoon, several Tainos from Guacanagari's village made their way over the wall of the stockade -- did the white men really think a bunch of sticks were going to be a barrier to men who had been climbing trees since boyhood? -- and soon one of them returned to make his report. Diko was waiting for him with Guacanagari.

"The men who are guarding him are asleep."

"I gave them a little poison so they would," said Diko.

Guacanagari glared at her. "I don't see why any of this should be your concern."

None of the others shared their cacique's attitude toward the black shaman-woman from the old mountain village of Ankuash. They were in awe of her, and had no doubt that she could poison anybody she wanted to, at any time.

"Guacanagari, I share your anger," said Diko. "You and your village have done nothing but good for these white men, and see how they treat you. Worse than dogs. But not all the white men are like this. The white cacique tried to punish the men who raped Parrot Feather. That's why the evil men among them have taken away his power and given him such a beating --"

"So he wasn't much of a cacique after all," said Guacanagari.

"He is a great man," said Diko. "Chipa and this young man, Pedro, both know him better than anyone but me."

"Why should I believe this white boy and this tricky lying girl?" demanded Guacanagari.

To Diko's surprise, Pedro had learned enough Taino to be able to speak up and say, clearly, "Because we have seen with our eyes, and you have not."

All of the Taino war council, gathered in the forest within sight of the stockade, were surprised by the fact that Pedro could understand and speak their language. Diko could tell they were surprised, because they showed no expression on their faces and waited in silence until they could speak calmly. Their controlled, impassive-seeming response reminded her of Hunahpu, and for a moment she felt a terrible pang of grief at having lost him. Years ago, she told herself. It was years ago, and I've already done all my grieving. I am over all feelings of regret.

"The poison will wear off," said Diko. "The evil men among them will remember their anger."

"We will remember our anger, too," said one of Guacanagari's young men.

"If you kill all the white men, even the ones who did no harm, then you are just as bad as they are," said Diko. "I promise you that if you kill in haste, you will be sorry."

She said it quietly, but the menace in her words was real -- she could see that they were all considering very carefully. They knew that she had deep powers, and none of them would be reckless enough to oppose her openly.

"Do you dare to forbid us to be men? Will you forbid us to protect our village?" asked Guacanagari.

"I would never forbid you to do anything, " said Diko. "I only ask you to wait and watch a little longer. Soon white men will begin leaving the stockade. I think that first there will be loyal men trying to save their cacique. Then the other good men who don't want to harm your people. You must let them find their way up the mountain to me. I ask you not to hurt them. If they are coming to me, please let them come."

"Even if they're searching for you to kill you?" asked Guacanagari. It was a sly question, leaving him an opening to kill whoever he wanted, claiming he did it in order to protect Sees-in-the-Dark.

"I can protect myself," said Sees-in-the-Dark. "If they are heading up the mountain, I ask you not to hinder or hurt them in any way. You'll know when the only ones left are the evil ones. It will be plain to all of you, not just to one or two. When that day comes, you can act as men should act. But even then, if any of them escape and head for the mountain, I ask you to let them go.

"Not the ones who raped Parrot Feather," said Dead Fish at once. "Never them, no matter what way they run."

"I agree," said Diko. "There is no refuge for them."

Cristoforo awoke in the darkness. There were voices outside his tent. He couldn't hear the words, but he didn't care, either. He understood now. It had come clear to him in his dream. Instead of dreaming about his own suffering, he had dreamed about the girl they had raped and killed. In his dream he saw the faces of Moger and Clavijo as they must have seemed to her, filled with lust and mockery and hate. In his dream, he begged them not to hurt her. In his dream, he told them he was just a girl, just a child. But nothing stopped them. They had no mercy.

These are the men I brought to this place, thought Cristoforo. And yet I called them Christian. And the gentle Indians, I called them savages. Sees-in-the-Dark said nothing but the simple truth. These people are the children of God, waiting only to be taught and baptized in order to be Christian. Some of my men are worthy to be Christians along with them. Pedro has been my example in this all along. He learned to see Chipa's heart when all I or anyone else could see was her skin, the ugliness of her face, her strange manner. If I had been like Pedro in my heart, I would have believed Sees-in-the-Dark, and so I would not have had to suffer these last calamities -- the loss of the Pinta, the mutiny, this beating. And the worst calamity of all: my shame at having refused the word of God because he didn't send the kind of messenger I expected.

The door opened, then closed again quickly. Quiet footsteps approached him.

"If you have come to kill me," said Cristoforo, "be man enough to let me see the face of my murderer."

"Quiet, please, my lord," said the voice. "Some of us have had a meeting. We'll free you and get you out of the stockade. And then we'll fight these damned mutineers and --"

"No," said Cristoforo. "No fighting, no bloodshed."

"What, then? Do we let these men rule over us?"

"The village of Ankuash, up the mountain," said Cristoforo. "I'll go there. The same with all loyal men. Get away quietly, without a fight. Follow the stream up the mountain -- to Ankuash. That is the place that God prepared for us. "

"But the mutineers will build the ship."

"Do you think mutineers could ever build a ship?" asked Cristoforo scornfully. "They'll look each other in the eye, and then look away, because they'll know they can't trust each other."

"That's true, my lord," said the man. "Already some of them are muttering about how Pinzўn was interested only in making sure you knew that he wasn't a mutineer. Some of them remembered how the Turk accused Pinzўn of helping him."

"A stupid charge," said Cristoforo.

"Pinzўn listens when Moger and ClaviJo talk about killing you, and he says nothing," said the man. "And Rodrigo stamps about, cursing and swearing because he didn't kill you this afternoon. We have to get you out of here."

"Help me get to my feet."

The pain was sharp, and he could feel the fragile scabs on some of the wounds break open. Blood was trickling on his back. But it couldn't be helped.

"How many of you are there?" asked Cristoforo.

"Most of the ship's boys are with you," he said. "They were all ashamed of Pinzўn today. Some of the officers talk about negotiating with the mutineers, and Segovia talked with Pinzўn for a long time, so I think maybe he's trying to work out a compromise. Probably wants to put Pinzўn in command --"

"Enough," said Cristoforo. "Everyone is frightened, everyone is doing what he thinks is best. Tell your friends this: I will know who the loyal men are, because they will make their way up the mountain to Ankuash. I will be there, with the woman Sees-in-the-Dark."

"The black witch?"

"There is more of God in her than in half the so-called Christians in this place," said Cristoforo. "Tell them all -- if any man wishes to return to Spain with me as a witness that he was loyal, then he will get away from here and join me in Ankuash."

Cristoforo was standing now, and had his hose on, with a shirt loosely thrown over his back. More clothing than that he couldn't bear, and on this warm night he wouldn't suffer from being so lightly dressed. "My sword," he said.

"Can you carry it?"

"I'm Captain-General of this expedition," said Cristoforo. "I will have my sword. And let it be known -- whoever brings me my logbooks and charts will be rewarded beyond his dreams when we return to Spain."

The man opened the door, and both of them looked carefully to see if anyone was watching them. Finally they saw a man -- Andres Yevenes, from his lean boyish body -- waving for them to come on. Only now did Cristoforo have a chance to see who it was who had come for him. It was the Basque, Juan de la Cosa. The man whose cowardly disobedience had led to the loss of the Santa Maria. "You have redeemed yourself tonight, Juan," said Cristoforo.

Cosa shrugged. "We Basques -- you never know what we're going to do."

Leaning on de la Cosa, Cristoforo moved as quickly as he could across the open area to the stockade wall. In the distance, he could hear the laughter and singing of drunken men. That was why he had been so badly guarded.

Andres and Juan were joined by several others, all ship's boys except for Escobedo, the clerk, who was carrying a small chest. "My log," said Cristoforo.

"And your charts," said Escobedo.

De la Cosa grinned at him. "Should I tell him about the reward you promised, or will you, my lord?"

"Which of you are coming with me?" asked Cristoforo.

They looked at each other in surprise. "We thought to help you over the wall," said de la Cosa. "Beyond that ..."

"They'll know I couldn't have done it alone. Most of you should come with me now. That way they won't start searching through the stockade, accusing people of having helped me. They'll think all my friends left with me."

"I'll stay, " said Juan de la Cosa, "so I can tell people the things you told me. All the rest of you, go."

They hoisted Cristoforo up onto the stockade. He braced himself against the pain, and swung down and landed on the other side. Almost at once he found himself face to face with one of the Taino. Dead Fish, if he could tell one Indian from another by moonlight. Dead Fish put his fingers against Cristoforo's lips. Be silent, he was saying.

The others came over the wall much more quickly than Cristoforo had. The only trouble was with the chest containing the logs and charts, but it was eventually handed over the top, followed by Escobedo.

"That's all of us," said Escobedo. "The Basque is already heading back to the drinking before he's missed."

"I fear for his life," said Cristoforo.

"He feared much more for yours."

The Tainos all carried weapons, but they did not brandish them or seem to be threatening in any way. And when Dead Fish took Cristoforo by the hand, the Captain-General followed him toward the woods.

Diko carefully removed the bandages. The healing was going well. She thought ruefully of the small quantity of antibiotics she had left. Oh, well. She had had enough for this, and with any luck she wouldn't need any more.

Cristoforo's eyes fluttered.

"So you aren't going to sleep forever after all," said Diko.

His eyes opened, and he tried to lift himself from the mat. He fell back at once.

"You're still weak," she said. "The flogging was bad enough, but the journey up the mountain wasn't good for you. You aren't a young man anymore."

He nodded weakly.

"Go back to sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel much better."

He shook his head. "Sees-in-the-Dark," he began.

"You can tell me tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Tomorrow."

"You are a daughter of God," he said. It was hard for him to speak, to get the breath for it, to form the words. But he formed them. "You are my sister. You are a Christian."

"Tomorrow," she said.

"I don't care about the gold," he said.

"I know," she answered.

"I think you come to me from God," he said.

"I have come to you to help you make true Christians of the people here. Beginning with me. Tomorrow you'll start to teach me about Christ, so I can be the first baptized in this land."

"This is why I came here," he murmured.

She stroked his hair, his shoulders, his cheek. As he drifted back to sleep, she answered him with the same words. "This is why I came here."

Within a few days, the royal officers and several more loyal men found their way up the mountain to Ankuash. Cristoforo, now able to stand and walk for a while each day, set his men to work at once, helping the villagers with their work, teaching them Spanish and learning Taino as they did. The ship's boys took to this humble work quite naturally. It was much harder for the royal officers to swallow their pride and work alongside the villagers. But there was no compulsion. As long as they refused to help, they were simply ignored, until they finally realized that in Ankuash, the old hierarchical rules no longer applied. If you weren't helping, you didn't matter. These were men who were determined to matter. Escobedo was the first to forget his rank, and Segovia the last, but that was to be expected. The heavier the burden of office, the harder it was to set it down.

Runners from the valley brought news. With the royal officers gone, Pinzўn had accepted command of the stockade, but work on the new ship soon stopped, and there were tales of fighting among the Spaniards. More men slipped away and came up the mountain. Finally it came to a pitched battle. The gunfire could be heard all the way to Ankuash.

That night a dozen men arrived in the village. Among them was Pinzўn himself, wounded in the leg and weeping because his brother Vincente, who had been captain of the Nina, was dead. When his wound had been treated, he insisted on publicly begging the Captain-General's forgiveness, which Cristoforo freely gave.

With the last restraint removed, the two dozen men remaining in the stockade ventured out to try to capture some Tainos, to make them into slaves or whores. They failed, but two Tainos and a Spaniard died in the fighting. A runner came to Diko from Guacanagari. "We will kill them now," said the messenger. "Only the evil ones are left."

"I told Guacanagari it would be obvious when the time came. But because you waited, there will only be a few of them, and you'll beat them easily."

The remaining mutineers slept in foolish security within their stockade, then woke in the morning to find their watchmen dead and the stockade filled with angry and well-armed Tainos. They learned that the gentleness of the Tainos was only one aspect of their character.

By the summer solstice of 1493, all the people of Ankuash had been baptized, and those Spaniards who had learned enough Taino to get along were permitted to begin courting young women from Ankuash or other villages. As the Spanish learned Taino ways, so also the villagers began to learn from the Spanish.

"They're forgetting to be Spanish," Segovia complained to Cristoforo one day.

"But the Taino are also forgetting to be Taino," Cristoforo replied. "They're becoming something new, something that has hardly been seen in the world before."

"And what is that?" demanded Segovia.

"I'm not sure, " said Cristoforo. "Christians, I think."

In the meantime, Cristoforo and Sees-in-the-Dark talked for many hours each day, and gradually he began to realize that despite all the secrets that she knew and all the strange powers that she seemed to have, she was not an angel or any other kind of supernatural being. She was a woman, still young, yet with a great deal of pain and wisdom in her eyes. She was a woman, and she was his friend. Why should that have surprised him? It was always from the love of strong women that he had found whatever joy had been granted him in his life.