Chapter IX: The Work of Traitors 284 (6)

In 1522, Pascual de Andagoya made a short voyage from Panama down the Pacific coast, but got no farther than Balboa had gone years before. His failure, however, called new attention to the unknown countries to the south; and Pizarro burned to explore them. The mind of the man who had been a swineherd was the only one that grasped the importance of what awaited discovery,--his courage, the only courage ready to face the obstacles that lay between. At last, he found two men ready to listen to his plans and to help him. These were Diego de Almagro[23] and Hernando de Luque.[24] Almagro was a soldier of fortune, a foundling like Pizarro, but better educated and somewhat older. He was a brave man physically; but he lacked the high moral courage as well as the moral power of Pizarro. He was in every way a lower grade of man,--more what would have been expected from their common birth than was that phenomenal character which was as much at home in courts and conquest as it had been in herding beasts. Not only could Pizarro accommodate himself to any range of fortune, but he was as unspoiled by power as by poverty. He was a man of principle; a man of his word; inflexible, heroic, yet prudent and humane, generous and just, and forever loyal,--in all of which qualities Almagro fell far below him.

De Luque was a priest, vicar at Panama. He was a wise and good man, to whom the two soldiers were greatly indebted. They had nothing but strong arms and big courage for the expedition; and he had to furnish the means. This he did with money he secured from the licentiate Espinosa, a lawyer. The consent of the governor was necessary, as in all Spanish provinces; and though Governor Davila did not seem to approve of the expedition, his permission was secured by promising him a share of the profits, while he was not called upon for any of the expenses. Pizarro was given command, and sailed in November, 1524, with one hundred men. Almagro was to follow as soon as possible, hoping to recruit more men in the little colony.

After coasting a short distance to the south, Pizarro effected a landing. It was an inhospitable spot. The explorers found themselves in a vast, tropical swamp, where progress was made almost impossible by the morasses and by the dense growth. The miasma of the marsh brooded everywhere, an intangible but merciless foe. Clouds of venomous insects hung upon them. To think of flies as a danger to life is strange to those who know only the temperate zones; but in some parts of the tropics the insects are more dreadful than wolves. From the swamps the exhausted Spaniards struggled through to a range of hills, whose sharp rocks (lava, very likely) cut their feet to the bone. And there was nothing to cheer them; all was the same hopeless wilderness. They toiled back to their rude brigantine, fainting under the tropic heat, and re-embarked. Taking on wood and water, they pursued their course south. Then came savage storms, which lasted ten days. Hurled about on the waves, their crazy little vessel barely missed falling asunder. Water ran short; and as for food, they had to live on two ears of corn apiece daily. As soon as the weather would permit they put to a landing, but found themselves again in a trackless and impenetrable forest. These strange, vast forests of the tropics (forests as big as the whole of Europe) are Nature's most forbidding side; the pathless sea and the desert plains are not so lonely or so deadly. Gigantic trees, sometimes much more than a hundred feet in circumference, grow thick and tall, their bases buried in eternal gloom, their giant columns interwoven with mighty vines, so that it is no longer a forest but a wall. Every step must be won by the axe. Huge and hideous snakes and great saurians are there; and in the hot, damp air lurks a foe deadlier than python or alligator or viper,--the tropic pestilence.

The men were no weaklings, but in this dreadful wilderness they soon lost hope. They began to curse Pizarro for leading them only to a miserable death, and clamored to sail back to Panama. But this only served to show the difference between men who were only brave physically and those of moral courage like Pizarro's. He had no thought of giving up; yet as his men were ripe for mutiny, something must be done; and he did a very bright thing,--one of the small first flashes of that genius which danger and extremity finally developed so conspicuously. He cheered his followers even while he was circumventing their mutiny. Montenegro, one of the officers, was sent back with the brigantine and half the little army to the Isle of Pearls for supplies. That kept the expedition from being given up. Pizarro and his fifty men could not return to Panama, for they had no boat; and Montenegro and his companions could not well fail to come back with succor. But it was a bitter waiting for relief. For six weeks the starving Spaniards floundered in the swamps, from which they could find no exit. There was no food except the shellfish they picked up and a few berries, some of which proved poisonous and caused tortures to those who ate them. Pizarro shared the hardships of his men with unselfish gentleness, dividing with the poorest soldier, and toiling like the rest, always with brave words to cheer them up. More than twenty men--nearly half the little force--died under their hardships; and all the survivors lost hope save the stout-hearted commander. When they were almost at the last gasp, a far light gleaming through the forest aroused them; and forcing their way in that direction they came at last to open ground, where was an Indian village whose corn and cocoanuts saved the emaciated Spaniards. These Indians had a few rude gold ornaments, and told of a rich country to the south.

At last Montenegro got back with the vessel and supplies to Puerto de la Hambre, or the Port of Hunger, as the Spaniards named it. He too had suffered greatly from hunger, having been delayed by storms. The reunited force sailed on southward, and presently came to a more open coast. Here was another Indian village. Its people had fled, but the explorers found food and some gold trinkets. They were horrified, however, at discovering that they were among cannibals, for before the fireplaces human legs and arms were roasting. They put to sea in the teeth of a storm sooner than remain in so repulsive a spot. At the headland, which they named Punta Quemada,--the Burnt Cape,--they had to land again, their poor bark being so strained that it was in great danger of going to the bottom. Montenegro was sent inland with a small force to explore, while Pizarro camped at a deserted Indian _rancheria_. The lieutenant had penetrated but a few miles when he was ambushed by the savages, and three Spaniards were slain. Montenegro's men had not even muskets; but with sword and cross-bow they fought hard, and at last drove off their dusky foes. The Indians, failing there, made a rapid march back to their village, and knowing the paths got there ahead of Montenegro and made a sudden attack. Pizarro led his little company out to meet them, and a fierce but unequal fight began. The Spaniards were at great odds, and their case was desperate. In the first volley of the enemy, Pizarro received _seven wounds_,--a fact which in itself is enough to show you what slight advantage their armor gave the Spaniards over the Indians, while it was a fearful burden in the tropic heats and amid such agile foes. The Spaniards had to give way; and as they retreated, Pizarro slipped and fell. The Indians, readily recognizing that he was the chief, had directed their special efforts to slay him; and now several sprang upon the fallen and bleeding warrior. But Pizarro struggled up and struck down two of them with supreme strength, and fought off the rest till his men could run to his aid. Then Montenegro came up and fell upon the savages from behind, and soon the Spaniards were masters of the field. But it had been dearly bought, and their leader saw plainly that he could not succeed in that savage land with such a weak force. His next step must be to get reinforcements.

He accordingly sailed back to Chicama, and remaining there with most of his men,--again careful not to give them a chance to desert,--sent Nicolas de Ribera, with the gold so far collected and a full account of their doings, to Governor Davila at Panama.

Meanwhile Almagro, after long delays, had sailed with sixty men in the second vessel from Panama to follow Pizarro. He found the "track" by trees Pizarro had marked at various points, according to their agreement. At Punta Quemada he landed, and the Indians gave him a hostile reception. Almagro's blood was hot, and he charged upon them bravely. In the action, an Indian javelin wounded him so severely in the head that after a few days of intense suffering he lost one of his eyes. But despite this great misfortune he kept on his voyage. It was the one admirable side of the man,--his great brute courage. He could face danger and pain bravely; but in a very few days he proved that the higher courage was lacking. At the river San Juan (St. John) the loneliness and uncertainty were too much for Almagro, and he turned back toward Panama. Fortunately, he learned that his captain was at Chicama, and there joined him. Pizarro had no thought of abandoning the enterprise, and he so impressed Almagro--who only needed to be _led_ to be ready for any daring--that the two solemnly vowed to each other to see the voyage to the end or die like men in trying. Pizarro sent him on to Panama to work for help, and himself stayed to cheer his men in pestilent Chicama.

Governor Davila, at best an unenterprising and unadmirable man, was just now in a particularly bad humor to be asked for help. One of his subordinates in Nicaragua needed punishment, he thought, and his own force was small for the purpose. He bitterly regretted having allowed Pizarro to go off with a hundred men who would be so useful now, and refused either to help the expedition or to permit it to go on. De Luque, whose calling and character made him influential in the little colony, finally persuaded the mean-hearted governor not to interfere with the expedition. Even here Davila showed his nature. As the price of his official consent,--without which the voyage could not go on,--he extorted a payment of a thousand _pesos de oro_, for which he also relinquished all his claims to the profits of the expedition, which he felt sure would amount to little or nothing. A _peso de oro_, or "dollar of gold," had about the intrinsic value of our dollar, but was then really worth far more. In those days of the world gold was far scarcer than now, and therefore had much more purchasing power. The same weight of gold would buy about five times as much then as it will now; so what was called a dollar, and _weighed_ a dollar, was really _worth_ about five dollars. The "hush-money" extorted by Davila was therefore some $5,000.

Fortunately, about this time Davila was superseded by a new governor of Panama, Don Pedro de los Rios, who opposed no further obstacles to the great plan. A new contract was entered into between Pizarro, Almagro, and Luque, dated March 10, 1526. The good vicar had advanced gold bars to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars for the expedition; and was to receive one third of all the profits. But in reality most of this large sum had come from the licentiate Espinosa; and a private contract insured that Luque's share should be turned over to him. Two new vessels, larger and better than the worn-out brigantine which had been built by Balboa, were purchased and filled with provisions. The little army was swelled by recruits to one hundred and sixty men, and even a few horses were secured; and the second expedition was ready.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] Pronounced Troo-_heel_-yo.

[20] Pronounced Pee-_sah_-roh.

[21] The famous European campaigner, De Cordova.

[22] Pronounced O-_yay_-dah.

[23] Pronounced Dee-_ay_-go day Al-_mah_-gro.

[24] Pronounced Er-_nan_-do day _Loo_-kay.

II.

THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT GIVE UP.

With so inadequate a force, yet much stronger than before, Pizarro and Almagro sailed again on their dangerous mission. The pilot was Bartolome Ruiz, a brave and loyal Andalusian and a good sailor. The weather was better now, and the adventurers pushed on hopefully. After a few days' sail they reached the Rio San Juan, which was as far as any European had ever sailed down that coast: it will be remembered that this was where Almagro had got discouraged and turned back. Here were more Indian settlements, and a little gold; but here too the vastness and savagery of the wilderness became more apparent. It is hard for us to conceive at all, in these easy days, how _lost_ these explorers were. Then there was not a white man in all the world who knew what lay beyond them; and the knowledge of something somewhere ahead is the most necessary prop to courage. We can understand their situation only by supposing a band of schoolboys--brave boys but unlearned--carried blindfold a thousand miles, and set down in a trackless wilderness they had never heard of.

Pizarro halted here with part of his men, and sent Almagro back to Panama with one vessel for recruits, and Pilot Ruiz south with the other to explore the coast. Ruiz coasted southward as far as Punta de Pasado, and was the first white man who ever crossed the equator on the Pacific,--no small honor. He found a rather more promising country, and encountered a large raft with cotton sails, on which were several Indians. They had mirrors (probably of volcanic glass, as was common to the southern aborigines) set in silver, and ornaments of silver and gold, besides remarkable cloths, on which were woven figures of beasts, birds, and fishes. The cruise lasted several weeks; and Ruiz got back to the San Juan barely in time. Pizarro and his men had suffered awful hardships. They had made a gallant effort to get inland, but could not escape the dreadful tropical forest, "whose trees grew to the sky." The dense growth was not so lonely as their earlier forests. There were troops of chattering monkeys and brilliant parrots; around the huge trees coiled lazy boas, and alligators dozed by the sluggish lagoons. Many of the Spaniards perished by these grim, strange foes; some were crushed to pulp in the mighty coils of the snakes, and some were crunched between the teeth of the scaly saurians. Many more fell victims to lurking savages; in a single swoop fourteen of the dwindling band were slain by Indians, who surrounded their stranded canoe. Food gave out too, and the survivors were starving when Ruiz got back with a scant relief but cheering news. Very soon too Almagro arrived, with supplies and a reinforcement of eighty men.

The whole expedition set sail again for the south. But at once there rose persistent storms. After great suffering the explorers got back to the Isle of Gallo, where they stayed two weeks to repair their disabled vessels and as badly shattered bodies. Then they sailed on again down the unknown seas. The country was gradually improving. The malarial tropic forests no longer extended into the very sea. Amid the groves of ebony and mahogany were occasional clearings, with rudely cultivated fields, and also Indian settlements of considerable size. In this region were gold-washings and emerald-mines, and the natives had some valuable ornaments. The Spaniards landed, but were set upon by a vastly superior number of savages, and escaped destruction only in a very curious way. In the uneven battle the Spaniards were sorely pressed, when one of their number fell from his horse; and this trivial incident put the swarming savages to flight. Some historians have ridiculed the idea that such a trifle could have had such an effect; but that is merely because of ignorance of the facts. You must remember that these Indians had never before seen a horse. The Spanish rider and his steed they took for one huge animal, strange and fearful enough at best,--a parallel to the old Greek myth of the Centaurs, and a token of the manner in which that myth began. But when this great unknown beast divided itself into two parts, which were able to act independently of each other, it was too much for the superstitious Indians, and they fled in terror. The Spaniards escaped to their vessels, and gave thanks for their strange deliverance.

But this narrow escape had shown more clearly how inadequate their handful of men was to cope with the wild hordes. They must again have reinforcements; and back they sailed to the Isle of Gallo, where Pizarro was to wait while Almagro went to Panama for help. You see Pizarro always took the heaviest and hardest burden for himself, and gave the easiest to his associate. It was always Almagro who was sent back to the comforts of civilization, while his lion-hearted leader bore the waiting and danger and suffering. The greatest obstacle all along now was in the soldiers themselves,--and I say this with a full realization of the deadly perils and enormous hardships. But perils and hardships without are to be borne more easily than treachery and discontent within. At every step Pizarro had to _carry_ his men,--morally. They were constantly discouraged (for which they surely had enough reason); and when discouraged they were ready for any desperate act, except going ahead. So Pizarro had constantly to be will and courage not only for himself, who suffered as cruelly as the meanest, but for all. It was like the stout soul we sometimes see holding up a half-dead body,--a body that would long ago have broken loose from a less intrepid spirit.

The men were now mutinous again; and despite Pizarro's gallant example and efforts, they came very near wrecking the whole enterprise. They sent by Almagro to the governor's wife a ball of cotton as a sample of the products of the country; but in this apparently harmless present the cowards had hidden a letter, in which they declared that Pizarro was leading them only to death, and warned others not to follow. A doggerel verse at the end set forth that Pizarro was a butcher waiting for more meat, and that Almagro went to Panama to gather sheep to be slaughtered.

The letter reached Governor de los Rios, and made him very indignant. He sent the Cordovan Tafur with two vessels to the Isle of Gallo to bring back every Spaniard there, and thus stop an expedition the importance of which his mind could not grasp. Pizarro and his men were suffering terribly, always drenched by the storms, and nearly starving. When Tafur arrived, all but Pizarro hailed him as a deliverer, and wanted to go home at once. But the captain was not daunted. With his dagger he drew a line upon the sands, and looking his men in the face, said: "Comrades and friends, on that side are death, hardship, starvation, nakedness, storms; on this side is comfort. From this side you go to Panama to be poor; from that side to Peru to be rich. Choose, each who is a brave Castilian, that which he thinks best."

As he spoke he stepped across the line to the south. Ruiz, the brave Andalusian pilot, stepped after him; and so did Pedro de Candia, the Greek, and one after another eleven more heroes, whose names deserve to be remembered by all who love loyalty and courage. They were Cristoval de Peralta, Domingo de Soria Luce, Nicolas de Ribera, Francisco de Cuellar, Alonso de Molina, Pedro Alcon, Garcia de Jerez, Anton de Carrion, Alonso Briceno, Martin de Paz, and Juan de la Torre.

The narrow Tafur could see in this heroism only disobedience to the governor, and would not leave them one of his vessels. It was with difficulty that he was prevailed upon to give them a few provisions, even to keep them from immediate starvation; and with his cowardly passengers he sailed back to Panama, leaving the fourteen alone upon their little island in the unknown Pacific.

Did you ever know of a more remarkable heroism? Alone, imprisoned by the great sea, with very little food, no boat, no clothing, almost no weapons, here were fourteen men still bent on conquering a savage country as big as Europe! Even the prejudiced Prescott admits that in all the annals of chivalry there is nothing to surpass this.

The Isle of Gallo became uninhabitable, and Pizarro and his men made a frail raft and sailed north seventy-five miles to the Isle of Gorgona. This was higher land, and had some timber, and the explorers made rude huts for shelter from the storms. Their sufferings were great from hunger, exposure, and venomous creatures which tortured them relentlessly. Pizarro kept up daily religious services, and every day they thanked God for their preservation, and prayed for his continued protection. Pizarro was always a devout man, and never thought of acting without invoking divine help, nor of neglecting thanks for his successes. It was so to the last, and even with his last gasp his dying fingers traced the cross he revered.

For seven indescribable months the fourteen deserted men waited and suffered on their lonely reef. Tafur had reached Panama safely, and reported their refusal to return. Governor de los Rios grew angrier yet, and refused to help the obstinate castaways. But De Luque, reminding him that his orders from the Crown commanded assistance to Pizarro, at last induced the niggard governor to allow a vessel to be sent with barely enough sailors to man it, and a small stock of provisions. But with it went strict orders to Pizarro to return, and report at the end of six months, no matter what happened. The rescuers found the brave fourteen on the Isle of Gorgona; and Pizarro was at last enabled to resume his voyage, with a few sailors and an army of _eleven_. Two of the fourteen were so sick that they had to be left on the island in the care of friendly Indians, and with heavy hearts their comrades bade them farewell.

Pizarro sailed on south. Soon they passed the farthest point a European had ever reached,--Punta de Pasado, which was the limit of Ruiz's explorations,--and were again in unknown seas. After twenty days' sail they entered the Gulf of Guayaquil, in Ecuador, and anchored in the Bay of Tumbez. Before them they saw a large Indian town with permanent houses. The blue bay was dotted with Indian sail-rafts; and far in the background loomed the giant peaks of the Andes. We may imagine how the Spaniards were impressed by their first sight of mountains that rose more than twenty thousand feet above them.

The Indians came out on their _balsas_ (rafts) to look at these marvellous strangers, and being treated with the utmost kindness and consideration, soon lost their fears. The Spaniards were given presents of chickens, swine, and trinkets, and had brought to them bananas, corn, sweet potatoes, pineapples, cocoanuts, game, and fish. You may be sure these dainties were more than welcome to the gaunt explorers after so many starving months. The Indians also brought aboard several llamas,--the characteristic and most valuable quadruped of South America. The fascinating but misled historian who has done more than any other one man in the United States to spread an interesting but absolutely false idea of Peru, calls the llama the Peruvian sheep; but it is no more a sheep than a giraffe is. The llama is the South American camel (a true camel, though a small one), the beast of burden whose slow, sure feet and patient back have made it possible for man to subdue a country so mountainous in parts as to make horses useless. Besides being a carrier it is a producer of clothing; it supplies the camel's hair which is woven into the woollen garments of the people. There were three other kinds of camel,--the vicuna, the guanaco, and the alpaca,--all small, and all variously prized for their hair, which still surpasses the wool of the best sheep for making fine fabrics. The Peruvians domesticated the llama in large flocks, and it was their most important helper. They were the only aborigines in the two Americas who had a beast of burden before the Europeans came, except the Apaches of the Plains and the Eskimos, both of whom had the dog and the sledge.

At Tumbez, Alonso de Molina was sent ashore to look at the town. He came back with such gorgeous reports of gilded temples and great forts that Pizarro distrusted him, and sent Pedro de Candia. This Greek, a native of the Isle of Candia, was a man of importance in the little Spanish force. The Greeks everywhere were then regarded as a people adept in the still mysterious weapons; and all Europe had a respect for those who had invented that wonderful agent "Greek fire," which would burn under water, and which no man now-a-days knows how to make. The Greeks were generally known as "fire-workers," and were in great demand as masters of artillery.

De Candia went ashore with his armor and arquebuse, both of which astounded the natives; and when he set up a plank and shivered it with a ball, they were overwhelmed at the strange noise and its result. Candia brought back as glowing reports as Molina had done; and the tattered Spaniards began to feel that at last their golden dreams were coming true, and took heart again. Pizarro gently declined the gifts of gold and silver and pearls which the awe-struck natives offered, and turned his face again to the south, sailing as far as about the ninth degree of south latitude. Then, feeling that he had seen enough to warrant going back for reinforcements, he stood about for Panama. Alonso de Molina and one companion were left in Tumbez at their own request, being much in love with the country. Pizarro took back in their places two Indian youth, to learn the Spanish language. One of them, who was given the name of Felipillo (little Philip) afterward cut an important and discreditable figure. The voyagers stopped at the Isle of Gorgona for their two countrymen who had been left there sick. One was dead, but the other gladly rejoined his compassionate comrades. And so, with his dozen men, Pizarro came back to Panama after an absence of eighteen months, into which had been crowded the sufferings and horrors of a lifetime.

III.

GAINING GROUND.

Governor de los Rios was not impressed by the heroism of the little party, and refused them aid. The case seemed hopeless; but the leader was not to be crushed. He decided to go to Spain in person, and appeal to his king. It was one of his most remarkable undertakings, it seems to me. For this man, whose boyhood had been passed with swine, and who in manhood had been herding rude men far more dangerous, who was ignorant of books and unversed in courts, to present himself confidently yet modestly at the dazzling and punctilious court of Spain, showed another side of his high courage. It was very much as if a London chimney-sweep were to go to-morrow to ask audience and favors of Queen Victoria.

But Pizarro was equal to this, as to all the other crises of his life, and acquitted himself as gallantly. He was still tattered and penniless, but De Luque collected for him fifteen hundred ducats; and in the spring of 1528 Pizarro sailed for Spain. He took with him Pedro de Candia and some Peruvians, with some llamas, some beautifully-woven Indian cloths, and a few trinkets and vessels of gold and silver, to corroborate his story. He reached Seville in the summer, and was at once thrown into jail by Enciso under the cruel old law, long prevalent in all civilized countries, allowing imprisonment for debt. His story soon got abroad, and he was released by order of the Crown and summoned to court. Standing before the brilliant Charles V., the unlettered soldier told his story so modestly, so manfully, so clearly, that Charles shed tears at the recital of such awful sufferings, and warmed to such heroic steadfastness.

The king was just about to embark for Italy on an important mission; but his heart was won, and he left Pizarro to the Council of the Indies with recommendation to help the enterprise. That wise but ponderous body moved slowly, as men learned only in books and theories are apt to move; and delay was dangerous. At last the queen took up the matter, and on the 26th of July, 1529, signed with her own royal hand the precious document which made possible one of the greatest conquests, and one of the most gallant, in human history. America owes a great deal to the brave queens of Spain as well as to its kings. We remember what Isabella had done for the discovery of the New World; and now Charles's consort had as creditable a hand in its most exciting chapter.

The _capitulacion_, or contract, in which two such strangely different "parties" were set side by side--one signing boldly _Yo la Reina_ ("I the Queen"), and the other following with "Francisco [X] Pizarro, his mark"--was the basis of Pizarro's fortunes. The man who had been sneered at and neglected by narrow minds that had constantly hindered his one great hope, now had won the interest and support of his sovereigns and their promise of a magnificent reward,--of which latter we may be sure a man of his calibre thought less than of the chance to realize his dream of discovery. Followers he had to bait with golden hopes; and for that matter it was but natural and right that after more than fifty years of poverty and deprivation he should also think somewhat of comfort and wealth for himself. But no man ever did or ever will do from mere sordidness such a feat as Pizarro's. Such successes can be won only by higher minds with higher aims; and it is certain that Pizarro's chief ambition was for a nobler and more enduring thing than gold.

The contract with the Crown gave to Francisco Pizarro the right to find and make a Spanish empire of the country of New Castile, which was the name given to Peru. He had leave "to explore, conquer, pacify, and colonize" the land from Santiago to a point two hundred leagues south; and of this vast and unknown new province he was to be governor and captain-general,--the highest military rank. He was also to bear the titles of adelantado and alguacil-mayor for life, with a salary of seven hundred and twenty-five thousand _maravedis_ (about $2,000) a year. Almagro was to be commander of Tumbez, with an annual rental of three hundred thousand _maravedis_ and the rank of hidalgo. Good Father Luque was made Bishop of Tumbez and Protector of the Indians, with one thousand ducats a year. Ruiz was made Grand Pilot of the South Seas; Candia, commander of the artillery; and the eleven others who had stood so bravely by Pizarro on the lonely isle were all made hidalgos.

In return, Pizarro was required to pledge himself to observe the noble Spanish laws for the government, protection, and education of the Indians, and to take with him priests expressly to convert the savages to Christianity. He was also to raise a force of two hundred and fifty men in six months, and equip them well, the Crown giving a little help; and within six months after reaching Panama, he must get his expedition started for Peru. He was also invested with the Order of Santiago; and thus suddenly raised to the proud knighthood of Spain he was allowed to add the royal arms to those of the Pizarros, with other emblems commemorative of his exploits,--an Indian town, with a vessel in the bay, and the little camel of Peru. This was a startling and significant array of honors, hard to be comprehended by those used only to republican institutions. It swept away forever the disgrace of Pizarro's birth, and gave him an unsullied place among the noblest. It is doubly important in that it shows that the Spanish Crown thus recognized the rank of Pizarro in American conquest. Cortez never earned and never received such distinction.

This division of the honors led to very serious trouble. Almagro never forgave Pizarro for coming out a greater man than he, and charged him with selfishly and treacherously seeking the best for himself. Some historians have sided with Almagro; but we have every reason to believe that Pizarro acted straightforwardly and with truth. As he explained, he made every effort to induce the Crown to give equal honors to Almagro; but the Crown refused. Pizarro's word aside, it was merely political common-sense for the Crown to refuse such a request. Two leaders anywhere are a danger; and Spain already had had too bitter experience with this same thing in America to care to repeat it. It was willing to give all honor and encouragement to the arms; but there must be only one head, and that head, of course, could be none but Pizarro. And certainly any one who looks at the mental and moral difference between the two men, and what were their actions and results both before and after the royal grant, will concede that the Spanish Crown made a most liberal estimate for Almagro, and gave him certainly quite as much as he was worth. In the whole contract there is circumstantial evidence that Pizarro did his best in behalf of his associate,--the ungrateful and afterward traitorous Almagro,--an evidence mightily corroborated by Pizarro's long patience and clemency toward his vulgar, ignoble, and constantly deteriorating comrade. Pizarro had the head that fate could not turn. He was neither crushed by adversity, nor, rarer yet, spoiled by the most dazzling success,--wherein he rose superior to the greater genius, but less noble man, Napoleon. When raised from lifelong, abject poverty to the highest pinnacle of wealth and fame, Pizarro remained the same quiet, modest, God-fearing and God-thanking, prudent, heroic man. Success only intensified Almagro's base nature, and his end was ignominious.

Having secured his contract with the Crown, Pizarro felt a longing to see the scenes of his boyhood. Unhappy as they had been, there was a manly satisfaction in going back to look upon these places. So the ragged boy who had left his pigs at Truxillo, came back now a knighted hero with gray hair and undying fame. I do not believe it was for the sake of vain display before those who might remember him. That was nowhere in the nature of Pizarro. He never exhibited vanity or pride. He was of the same broad, modest, noble gauge as gallant Crook, the greatest and best of our Indian conquerors, who was never so content as when he could move about among his troops without a mark in dress or manner to show that he was a major-general of the United States army rather than some poor scout or hunter. No; it was the man in him that took Pizarro back to Truxillo,--or perhaps a touch of the boy that is always left in such great hearts. Of course the people were glad to honor the hero of such a fairy tale as his sober story makes; but I am sure that the brilliant general was glad to escape sometimes from the visitors, and get out among the hillsides where he had driven his pigs so many years before, and see the same old trees and brooklets, and even, no doubt, the same ragged, ignorant boy still herding the noisy porkers. He might well have pinched himself to see if he were really awake; whether that were not the real Francisco Pizarro over yonder, still in his rags tending the same old swine, and this gray, famous, travelled, honored knight only a dream like the years between them. And he was the very man who, finding himself awake, would have gone over to the ragged herder and sat down beside him upon the sward with a gentle _Como lo va, amigo?_--"How goes it, friend?" And when the wondering and frightened lad stammered or tried to run away from the first great personage that had ever spoken to him, Pizarro would talk so kindly and of such wonderful things that the poor herder would look upon him with that hero-worship which is one of the purest and most helpful impulses in all our nature, and wonder if he too might not sometime be somewhat like this splendid, quiet man who said, "Yes, my boy, I used to herd pigs right here." The more I think of it, from what we know of Pizarro, the surer I am that he really did look up the old pastures and the swine and their ignorant keepers, and talked with them simply and gently, and left in them the resolve to try for better things.

But the interest which everywhere centred upon Pizarro did not bring in recruits to his banner as fast as could be desired. Most people would much rather admire the hero than become heroes at the cost of similar suffering. Among those who joined him were his brothers, Hernando, Gonzalo, and Juan, who were to figure prominently in the New World, though until now they had never been heard of. Hernando, the eldest of brothers, was the only legitimate son, and was much better educated. But he was also the worst; and being without the strict principles of Francisco made a sorry mark in the end. Juan was a sympathetic figure, and distinguished himself by his great manliness and courage before he came to an untimely end. Gonzalo was a genuine knight-errant, fearless, generous, and chivalric, beloved alike in the New World by the soldiers he led and the Indians he conquered. He made one of the most incredible marches in all history, and would have won a great name, probably, had not the death of his guide-brother Francisco thrown him into the power of evil counsellors like the scoundrel Carabajal and others, who led and pushed him to ruin. But while none of the brothers were wicked men, nor cowards, nor fools, there was none like Francisco. He was one of the rare types of whom but a few have been scattered, far apart, up and down the world's path. He had not only the qualities which make heroes and which are very common, fortunately for us, but with them the insight and the unfaltering aim of genius. Less than Napoleon in insight, because less learned, fully as great in resolve and greater in principle, he was one of the prominent men of all time.

But the six months were up, and he still lacked something of the necessary two hundred and fifty recruits. The Council was about to inspect his expedition, and Pizarro, fearing that the strict letter of the law might now prevent the consummation of his great plans just for the want of a few men, and growing desperate at the thought of further delay, waited no longer for official leave, but slipped his cable and put to sea secretly in January, 1530. It was not exactly the handsomest course to take, but he felt that too much was at stake to be risked on a mere technicality, and that he was keeping the spirit if not the letter of the law. The Crown evidently looked upon the matter in the same light, for he was neither brought back nor punished. After a tedious voyage he got safely to Santa Marta. Here his new soldiers were aghast at hearing of the great snakes and alligators to be encountered, and a considerable number of the weaker spirits deserted. Almagro, too, began an uproar, declaring that Pizarro had robbed him of his rightful honors; but De Luque and Espinosa pacified the quarrel, helped by the generous spirit of Pizarro. He agreed to make Almagro the adelantado, and to ask the Crown to confirm the appointment. He also promised to provide for him before he did for his own brothers.

Early in January, 1531, Francisco Pizarro sailed from Panama on his third and last voyage to the south. He had in his three vessels one hundred and eighty men and twenty-seven horses. That was not an imposing army, truly, to explore and conquer a great country; but it was all he could get, and Pizarro was bound to try. He made the real conquest of Peru with a handful of rough heroes; indeed, he would certainly have tried, and very possibly would have succeeded in the vast undertaking, if he had had but fifty soldiers; for it was very much more the one man who conquered Peru than his one hundred and eighty followers. Almagro was again left behind at Panama to try to drum up recruits.

Pizarro intended to sail straight to Tumbez, and there effect his landing; but storms beat back the weak ships, so that he was obliged to change his plan. After thirteen days he landed in the Bay of San Mateo (St. Matthew), and led his men by land, while the vessels coasted along southward. It was an enormously difficult tramp on that inhospitable shore, and the men could scarcely stagger on. But Pizarro acted as guide, and cheered them up by words and example. It was the old story with him. Everywhere he had fairly to _carry_ his company. Their legs no doubt were as strong as his, though he must have had a very wonderful constitution; but there is a mental muscle which is harder and more enduring, and has held up many a tottering body,--the muscle of pluck. And that pluck of Pizarro was never surpassed on earth. You might almost say it had to carry his army pick-a-back.

Wild as the region was, it had some mineral wealth. Pizarro collected (so Pedro Pizarro[25] says) two hundred thousand _castellanos_ (each weighing a dollar) of gold. This he sent back to Panama by his vessels to speak for him. _It_ was the kind of argument the rude adventurers on the Isthmus could understand, and he trusted to its yellow logic to bring him recruits. But while the vessels had gone on this important errand, the little army, trudging down the coast, was suffering greatly. The deep sands, the tropic heat, the weight of their arms and armor were almost unendurable. A strange and horrible pestilence broke out, and many perished. The country grew more forbidding, and again the suffering soldiers lost hope. At Puerto Viejo they were joined by thirty men under Sebastian de Belalcazar, who afterward distinguished himself in a brave chase of that golden butterfly which so many pursued to their death, and none ever captured,--the myth of the Dorado.

Pushing on, Pizarro finally crossed to the island of Puna, to rest his gaunt men, and get them in trim for the conquest. The Indians of the island attempted treachery; and when their ringleaders were captured and punished, the whole swarm of savages fell desperately on the Spanish camp. It was a most unequal contest; but at last courage and discipline prevailed over mere brute force, and the Indians were routed. Many Spaniards were wounded, and among them Hernando Pizarro, who got an ugly javelin-wound in the leg. But the Indians gave them no rest, and were constantly harassing them, cutting off stragglers, and keeping the camp in endless alarm. Then fortunately came a reinforcement of one hundred men with a few horses, under command of Hernando de Soto, the heroic but unfortunate man who later explored the Mississippi.

Thus strengthened, Pizarro crossed back to the mainland on rafts. The Indians disputed his passage, killed three men on one raft, and cut off another raft, whose soldiers were overpowered. Hernando Pizarro had already landed; and though a dangerous mud-flat lay between, he spurred his floundering horse through belly-deep mire, with a few companions, and rescued the imperilled men.

Entering Tumbez, the Spaniards found the pretty town stripped and deserted. Alonso de Molina and his companion had disappeared, and their fate was never learned. Pizarro left a small force there, and in May, 1532, marched inland, sending De Soto with a small detachment to scout the base of the giant Andes. From his very first landing, Pizarro enforced the strictest discipline. His soldiers must treat the Indians well, under the severest penalties. They must not even enter an Indian dwelling; and if they dared disobey this command they were sternly punished. It was a liberal and gentle policy toward the Indians which Pizarro adopted at the very start, and maintained inflexibly.

_See page 268._]

After three or four weeks spent in exploring, Pizarro picked out a site in the valley of Tangara, and founded there the town of San Miguel (St. Michael). He built a church, storehouse, hall of justice, fort and dwellings, and organized a government. The gold they had collected he sent back to Panama, and waited several weeks hoping for recruits. But none came, and it was evident that he must give up the conquest of Peru, or undertake it with the handful of men he already had. It did not take a Pizarro long to choose between such alternatives. Leaving fifty soldiers under Antonio Navarro to garrison San Miguel, and with strict laws for the protection of the Indians, Pizarro marched Sept. 24, 1532, toward the vast and unknown interior.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] A Spanish historian of the sixteenth century, a relative of Francisco Pizarro.

IV.

PERU AS IT WAS.

Now that we have followed Pizarro to Peru, and he is about to conquer the wonderful land to find which he has gone through such unparalleled discouragements and sufferings, we must stop for a moment to get an understanding of the country. This is the more necessary because such false and foolish tales of "the Empire of Peru" and "the reign of the Incas," and all that sort of trash, have been so widely circulated. To comprehend the Conquest at all, we must understand what there was to conquer; and that makes it necessary that I should sketch in a few words the picture of Peru that was so long accepted on the authority of grotesquely mistaken historians, and also Peru as it really was, and as more scholarly history has fully proved it to have been.

We were told that Peru was a great, rich, populous, civilized empire, ruled by a long line of kings who were called Incas; that it had dynasties and noblemen, throne and crown and court; that its kings conquered vast territories, and civilized their conquered savage neighbors by wonderful laws and schools and other tools of the highest political economy; that they had military roads finer than those built by the Romans, and a thousand miles in length, with wonderful pavement and bridges; that this wonderful race believed in one Supreme Being; that the king and all of the royal blood were immeasurably above the common people, but mild, just, paternal, and enlightened; that there were royal palaces everywhere; that they had canals four or five hundred miles long, and county fairs, and theatrical representations of tragedy and comedy; that they carved emeralds with bronze tools the making of which is now a lost art; that the government took the census, and had the populace educated; and that while the policy of the remarkable aborigines of Mexico was the policy of hate, that of the Inca kings was the policy of love and mildness. Above all, we were told much of the long line of Inca monarchs, the royal family, whose last great king, Huayna Capac, had died not a great while before the coming of the Spaniards. He was represented as dividing the throne between his sons Atahualpa and Huascar, who soon quarrelled and began a wicked and merciless fratricidal war with armies and other civilized arrangements. Then, we were told, came Pizarro and took advantage of this unfraternal war, arrayed one brother against the other, and thus was enabled at last to conquer the empire.

All this, with a thousand other things as ridiculous, as untrue, and as impossible, is part of one of the most fascinating but misleading historical romances ever written. It never could have been written if the beautiful and accurate science of ethnology had then been known. The whole idea of Peru so long prevalent was based upon utter ignorance of the country, and, above all, of Indians everywhere. For you must remember that these wonderful beings, whose pictured government puts to shame any civilized nation now on earth, were _nothing but Indians_. I do not mean that Indians are not men, with all the emotions and feelings and rights of men,--rights which I only wish we had protected with as honorable care as Spain did. But the North and South American Indians are very like each other in their social, religious, and political organization, and very unlike us. The Peruvians had indeed advanced somewhat further than any other Indians in America, but they were still Indians. They had no adequate idea of a Supreme Being, but worshipped a bewildering multitude of gods and idols. There was no king, no throne, no dynasty, no royal blood, nor anything else royal. Anything of that sort was even more impossible among the Indians than it would be now in our own republic. There was not, and could not be, even a nation. Indian life is essentially tribal. Not only can there be no king nor anything resembling a king, but there is no such thing as heredity,--except as something to be guarded against. The chief (and there cannot be even one supreme chief) cannot hand down his authority to his son, nor to any one else. The successor is elected by the council of officials who have such things in charge. Where there are no kings there can be no palaces,--and there were neither in Peru. As for fairs and schools and all those things, they were as untrue as impossible. There was no court, nor crown, nor nobility, nor census, nor theatres, nor anything remotely suggesting any of them; and as for the Incas, they were not kings nor even rulers, but _a tribe of Indians_. They were the only Indians in the Americas who had the smelter; and that enabled them to make rude gold and silver ornaments and images; so their country was the richest in the New World, and they certainly had a remarkable though barbaric splendor. The temples of their blind gods were bright with gold, and the Indians wore precious metals in profusion, just as our own Navajos and Pueblos in New Mexico and Arizona wear pounds and pounds of silver ornaments to-day. They made bronze tools too, some of which had a very good temper; but it was not an art, only an accident. Two of those tools were never found of the same alloy; the Indian smith simply guessed at it, and had to throw away many a tool for every one he accidentally made.