Chapter III: Part 3

Life in the settlement irked him greatly, says his Spanish biographer, and although it was essential to its peace and prosperity that he should stay in it a certain length of time, in order to place the town in a posture of defence and encourage the waning spirits of the settlers, his active and enterprising disposition would allow him no rest. He had desired to go in person to present his cause to the court, but his fellow-settlers would not hear of it. They were already sadly distressed by their losses, through the inimical effects of the climate and the repeated attacks of the Indians, and there seemed to be no one but Balboa who could hold them where they were. What they had really gained was very little, since their harvests were washed away by the floods, and the gold they had acquired was useless, without marts in which to purchase the things they most required to sustain life.

In order to keep them from seizing a vessel and departing for more attractive regions, Balboa conceived the plan of invading the dominions of Dobaybe, which lay around the head of the gulf, and contiguous to the cannibal country on its eastern boundary. He was obliged to await the return of Valdivia with reinforcements, if he would invade the great and opulent region beyond the mountains, but meanwhile there came to him information of a character that fanned to a flame the slumbering desire to achieve a great discovery. An Indian was brought to him one morning, who said he was the subject of a great cacique living in a golden realm of the interior about one hundred miles from Darien. Its capital was situated on the bank of the very river that emptied itself, by many mouths, into the Gulf of Uraba. Its riches were prodigious, and it derived its name from a wondrous goddess of most ancient times, who, according to Indian tradition, was the mother of the god who had created the sun, the moon, and the stars. She also controlled the elements, he said, sending great storms, with thunder and lightning, which destroyed the habitations of those who did not worship her fervently, but rewarding those who did with abundant crops and success in battle. According to some, this goddess had been at one time an Indian princess, whose capital was in the mountains of Dobaybe, and in whose memory, after her death, a temple had been erected containing a golden idol, which was still worshipped by the natives. Both temple and idol were made of gold, and to the holy shrine it was the wont of Indians far and near to make annual pilgrimages, for the purpose of making offerings of their wealth. Thus, in the course of centuries, the golden temple had become filled with treasure of inestimable value. Its walls were adorned with plates of gold, and its vaults filled with the precious metal, veins of which radiated from them to the various mines with which the region abounded.

The idol and the temple were of themselves sufficient to arouse the predatory instinct of the Spaniards; but not alone was their cupidity appealed to, for Balboa was informed that his old enemy Zemaco had retreated to the province of Dobaybe, and was engaged in arousing its cacique to resistance. Inflamed, then, by a lust for gold and their desire for revenge, the followers of Balboa volunteered so readily for the desperate enterprise that he had difficulty in retaining any able-bodied soldiers for the defence of the settlement. One hundred and seventy were finally selected, and embarking them in two brigantines, under command of himself and Colmenares, Balboa sailed up the gulf to the mouth of the river draining the golden country.

While nothing more was ever heard of Balboa's friend, the regidor, yet tidings indirectly came to the Spaniards, in the course of Cortes's voyage to Yucatan, in the year 1519. When his fleet was off that coast, a rumor reached him that two Spaniards were held captive by a cacique of the interior. One of these was rescued, and proved of inestimable value to Cortes in the conquest of Mexico, as an interpreter. His name was Aguilar, and he informed his rescuers that he and another were the only survivors of the shipwreck, all the rest, thirteen men and two women, having been sacrificed, or killed by hard usage.

VII

A SEARCH FOR THE GOLDEN TEMPLE

1511

Nothing seemed impossible to the Spaniards of Balboa's time, nothing seemed incredible, and thus it was that this small band of soldiers set forth in full confidence that they could subdue any force they might encounter, and trustfully accepting the wild story told them by the Indian. They were the pick of the force at Darien, the hardiest and stoutest-hearted, and they were armed with the best weapons known to their age. These weapons, indeed, were not such as would satisfy a soldier of the present day, for, besides pikes, swords, lances or halberds, and cross-bows, they had as a fire-arm only the rude arquebuse, or clumsy musket, which was a heavy burden to carry and rarely did effective execution. It was so heavy as to demand a "rest," or support, which was usually afforded by a pronged upright of iron, or a crotched stick; and besides being difficult to properly charge with powder and ball, it required the musketeer to carry constantly a lighted match, or fusee, with which to ignite the powder in the pan.

Most soldiers preferred the powerful cross-bow, with which the best of them could drive nails almost as far as they could see them. But these weapons were not so far superior to the bows possessed by the Indians that they gave their owners great advantage, and besides, the savages were generally more powerful of arm than the Spaniards, as well as equally expert with bow and arrow. The chosen weapon of the Spaniard was the sword, and the cavalier who possessed a good "Toledo," with blade that could be bent double without breaking, and with an edge that nothing could turn, considered himself more than the equal of any warrior that might oppose him, whether armed with bow, spear, pike, or war-club.

The vast superiority of the Spaniards over the savages consisted in their armor, for protected as most of them were, by helmet, corselet, gauntlets, cuishes for the thighs and greaves for the legs--arrows, spears, and even war-clubs glanced harmlessly from their panoply of steel. They were often wounded, some of them killed outright, in their desperate encounters with the Indians; but the greater number of their casualties were the result of carelessness or neglect to properly encase themselves in defensive armor. Heavy and cumbersome as it was, few men could support the weight of metal it was necessary for the armed soldier to carry, and especially in the tropics was the burden found intolerable. So it happened frequently that the soldiers were surprised by the savages without their armor, which they may have doffed for temporary relief, or have delivered over to a slave to carry for them. At such times there was found to be little difference between savage and civilized soldier, and the former fought his opponent on nearly equal terms.

Balboa may have taken with him a few falconets, or light field-pieces, but if so they were not used in conflict with the Indians on this enterprise, and the prestige which the white men had derived from their fire-arms was maintained by the arquebusiers, or musketeers, who frightened the Indians with the loud reports of their guns and volumes of sulphurous powder-smoke, but did little execution. The commander himself carried as his only weapon his invincible sword, the blade of which had been forged at Toledo, and brought to an exquisite temper in the waters of the Tagus. For defence he relied upon the armor in which he was encased, and the Saracenic shield, or buckler, which hung from his shoulders or was carried on his left arm, the right wielding the basket-hilted sword.

When Balboa reached the river, which came down from the mountains far away, he knew not which branch of it to take, there were so many mouths, and all navigable, so far as he could see. Taking his stand in the prow of the brigantine, he guided his little fleet into the largest stream he could find, and then, sending Colmenares to explore another branch, he proceeded on his way to what he thought was Dobaybe province. After threading his way through a perfect labyrinth of morasses, and without getting a glimpse of a single Indian, he at last came to a deserted village. The huts were empty, containing neither inhabitants or provisions; but hanging from their rafters were many jewelled weapons and golden ornaments, so that the Spaniards obtained booty from this silent village to the estimated value of seven thousand castellanos. This they stowed away in two large canoes, which had been picked up along the river-bank, and then, discouraged at the gloomy outlook, Balboa gave the order to return to the gulf. On the way a violent storm assailed these invaders of the country ruled by Dobaybe's deity, sent, the trembling Indians said, in revenge for this affront offered her by the unbelieving white men. The brigantine was in such danger of sinking that half her cargo was thrown overboard, to save her, while the two canoes laden with the booty were overwhelmed by the waters of the gulf and went down with all on board.

Thus far the expedition had proved worse than fruitless; but Balboa was not the man to cry "enough" until every means had been exhausted to gain what he was seeking. The river he had entered, and which he had the honor of discovering, was far greater than he imagined, for it has its source, say the geographers, nine or ten hundred miles distant from the Gulf of Uraba, in the cordilleras of the Andes. The volume of its waters was such as to freshen the sea for many leagues from the shore. It was named by Balboa the St. John, but is now known as the Darien and the Atrato. Working his way into the branch of the river ascended by Colmenares, Balboa overtook his companion, and together they entered a tributary of the main stream which, from the color of its waters, they called the Rio Negro, or Black River. Its color was derived, they ascertained, from the black mud of a submerged region through which it ran, and where they discovered the most wonderful habitations of any seen by the Spaniards since Vespucci and Ojeda brought to light the lake-dwellers of Maracaibo, in 1499.

As the brigantines were slowly forced against the current of the river, now beneath the overhanging branches of huge trees swarming with parrots, and again crossing the placid surface of an eddied lake, the excited soldiers caught occasional glimpses of large animals ahead climbing the trunks of trees. At first they took them for monkeys, and those of the band who had cross-bows got them ready to shoot; for the flesh of the monkey was held by them in great repute, and their supply of meat was exhausted. Suddenly one of the soldiers, who had climbed to the mast-head for better observation, cried out: "Those are not monkeys, but men! They are men and women and children; and behold, there are their barbacoas, like nests, perched up in the palms above the water!"

And it was as the soldier had said, for there was a veritable nest of tree-dwellers, or rather a collection of nests, consisting of wicker-work huts made of flexible reeds and vines, fifty or sixty feet up in the air. They occupied the tops of the palm-trees, and each was large enough to accommodate a family, being divided into compartments, such as bedchamber, dining-room, and kitchen, or larder. They were reached by ladders made of split reeds or bamboos, which the Indians climbed with the agility of monkeys. Women and children, as well as men, went up and down the fragile, shaking ladders, some of them with great burdens on their backs, with as little inconvenience as if they were walking on level ground.

All their provisions were kept in the aerial houses, which were well filled, but the liquors they drank, consisting of palm-wine and beer, were buried in earthen jars at the roots of the trees, as the rocking of the habitations would cause them to become turbid. The trees grew in or near the water, and the Indians kept canoes tied to their trunks, or to the lower ends of the ladders, and thus could embark without touching the earth. Their mode of life, in fact, was aerial and aquatic, rather than terrestrial, for they perched in the trees like birds, and sported in the water like fish, upon which latter they almost entirely subsisted. They rarely hunted the big game of the forest, and their chief reason for living up in the trees was that it afforded them security from wild beasts, especially the jaguars, which nightly roamed the woods in search of prey.

Balboa was greatly diverted by these barbacoas up in the air and their agile inhabitants. He endeavored to capture some of the latter, but they were too spry for him and his clumsy companions in armor, for, before they succeeded in landing, every member of the community was safely ensconced aloft. After the frightened Indians had scampered up the ladders they drew them into the tree-tops also, and, considering themselves secure, began to pelt the Spaniards with stones. This was more than their leader could endure, and, sheltering himself behind his buckler, he advanced to the tree in which, as he was told, the cacique's hut was built, and demanded that he descend immediately. The only answer was a shower of stones, some of which struck his shield, and one of them, glancing, wounded a companion. Becoming then enraged, Balboa ordered an arquebuse to be fired into the tree, and when the cacique, whose name was Abebeiba, heard the loud report and saw the cloud of smoke ascending, as from a volcano, he nearly fell from his lofty perch.

"Hold!" he cried, "I will descend"; but when his wives and family entreated him not to do so, he wavered, and finally refused to budge.

"What have I done to thee?" he asked of Balboa. "In nothing have I offended thee and thine; now leave me in peace."

The grim commander said nothing in reply, but commanded his axemen to attack the tree. "When the old scoundrel sees the chips fly," he remarked, "perhaps he may change his mind." Protected by the soldiers with their shields, the axemen vigorously set their blades into the palm-tree, and then the cacique seemed disposed to capitulate. Down rattled the long ladder, and it had scarcely struck the ground ere the cacique was there beside it, shaking with fear and chattering like a parrot. After him also came his wives and their children, in a long and rapidly descending procession, and soon they were grouped around the palm-tree, which, by their swift compliance with Balboa's demand, they had saved from destruction.

"We want gold," said Balboa, threateningly. "If you have any up in that tree, go back and get it at once."

The cacique replied: "I have no gold in the tree nor in any other place. I have no occasion for gold; but, great lord, if you will allow me to search in yonder sierras, I will soon return with a vast quantity, for there it exists and I know its hiding-place. Behold these wives of mine and these sons; they will be hostages for me against my return."

"It is well," answered Balboa. "Go, but return within two days. Meanwhile, we will hold your family as hostages, and enjoy the provisions you have so bountifully supplied against our coming, as it seems."

The wily Abebeiba departed for the sierras, and the Spaniards watched him out of sight. They saw him cross the river in his canoe, then plunge into a thicket on the opposite bank; but they saw him no more, for he never came back.

VIII

CONSPIRACY OF THE CACIQUES

1512

Balboa waited three days for the return of the cacique, with his brigantine, meanwhile, moored in a bend of the stream, where the dense vegetation of the banks met in leafy arches overhead. Great trees, their roots in the earth of opposite banks, mingled their verdant crowns together, and over their trunks (as though formed by nature for this purpose) climbed the natives of the region when they wished to cross the stream. One of these arboreal giants bent above Balboa's brigantine, with its branches screening the deck so effectually that the soldiers were nearly always in refreshing shade, even with the sun shining brightly at noonday.

The heat of that region was intense, and a shade was ever grateful, so it was with feelings of disgust that the sailors and soldiers heard Balboa, one day, give the order to proceed up the river. They had become attached to the spot containing the palm-trees and the dwellings in the air, for the habitations afforded them pleasant retreats when off duty, and their occupants received them with smiles and offers of good cheer. Balboa and his officers had taken possession of a group of huts consisting of the cacique's and others, nestled together in a clump of palms hung with great bunches of nuts and flowers amid their leafy crowns. There their hammocks were hung, there they were waited on by nut-brown boys and maidens, who took them fruits and beverages, the latter so often that soon the big earthen jars at the roots of the trees were drained of their contents.

It was when apprised of this fact that Balboa decided he would proceed with the exploration. "By all the saints!" he said to Colmenares, as the two reclined lazily in their hammocks, watching the smoke-wreaths drifting upward, mingled with most appetizing odors from their breakfast simmering in earthen vessels on the fires beneath the trees. "By the saints, Rodrigo, this is a pleasurable life to lead!"

"_De veras_--Of a truth," answered Colmenares. "But, my commander, have we not other things than pleasure to consider?"

"As thou sayest, Rodrigo, we have. And, now the _chicha_ is gone, the jars are empty, and the temptation removed for the old cacique to indulge in drunkenness--peradventure he ever return, which I doubt--it seemeth to me we had best move on."

It was not often that Balboa allowed himself to relax, as he had done here, especially when in the enemies' country, and his conscience smote him. Then he gathered himself together and gave the order which produced such discontent among his men. He met their sour looks blithely, giving them no heed, and they were too well trained to oppose him, even for a moment. Such as were by duty compelled, bent themselves to the oars, while others cast off the moorings, and soon the brigantine was on its way again up the stream. Just as it was slipping out from beneath the overhanging trees, there was a sudden commotion in the vines and branches above the deck, and through the tangled mass of vegetation dropped a naked savage. He was evidently a warrior, for in one hand he grasped a bow and bunch of arrows, and in the other held a shield of jaguar-skin.

"Ha, what is this?" exclaimed Balboa, who was standing on the castle-deck directing the departure. "Ho, there, interpreter! Come hither. Surround him, men, and prevent him from escaping."

There seemed, however, no cause for alarm, as the warrior was alone and showed no evidence of an intention either to attack the soldiers or leap overboard. As Balboa approached him, drawing his sword from its sheath the while, he stood like a statue, and faced the oncoming soldier without flinching.

"Ask him whence he comes and what the object of his coming," said Balboa to the interpreter, who, with others, had hurried to the spot.

The warrior did not at first reply to the question, repeated by the interpreter, but, after gazing about defiantly, finally made answer: "I come from the cacique Zemaco, who hath a prisoner in his possession, one of thy kind, whom he will set free and deliver to thee provided thou wilt send for him. But not many must thou send, only two or three, whom I will guide to his camp."

"A prisoner? How comes he to have a prisoner?" demanded Balboa, looking around for an answer. "We have lost no man, of late. I misdoubt the story myself, and believe the Indian is lying."

"And I likewise," said Colmenares. "But let us find from him where the cacique is encamped. Where is Zemaco?" he asked the warrior, through the interpreter.

"At Dobaybe," was the answer. "He guards the great temple and its goddess of gold."

"Aha!" exclaimed Balboa. "Then we will go to him. But not with an embassy; in force will we go. How far is it to Dobaybe? Ask him, interpreter?"

"Two days direct, by land; but four days by river, in the big canoe," answered the savage, showing his teeth with a snarl of rage, like a jaguar glowering from a tree in the forest.

"That time he told the truth," said Colmenares.

"So far maybe as he hath told anything," replied Balboa, enigmatically. "My faith! but I've a mind to put him to the torture. If it be but two days to Dobaybe, then surely we can accomplish it; but if much more, we shall be obliged to return for provisions. Where is the armorer? Here, man, place this savage in irons!"

As the armorer approached, Balboa waved his hand towards the Indian, who, probably divining the fate in store for him should he linger, sprang for the rail. At one bound he reached the bulwark, at another he leaped over it into the water of the river, where he sank like a stone before the astonished witnesses could make a move to prevent him. Instantly there was a commotion aboard the brigantine. A score of soldiers hastened to the rail, and as many cross-bows were made ready and levelled at the surface of the water. If the head of the savage had appeared above it, surely it would have been pierced by several bolts from the bows; but it did not emerge. The impatient bowmen waited long, but in vain. The Indian was seen nevermore, for he probably swam under water to the thickets on the farther shore, and, worming his way through the vines and undergrowth of the forest, secured his safety by flight.

"Maria Santisima!" exclaimed Balboa. "Why did I not run him through with my sword? He was a spy--naught else was he; and all that he told was a lie!"

Downcast and disgusted were the soldiers then, for they felt that they and their commander had been outwitted, and by a naked savage. "If, then," they reasoned among themselves, "we can be so easily deceived by an emissary of Zemaco, what cannot he do to us when involved in the net he has spread for our capture?" They were ignorant and superstitious. Having heard of the goddess that reigned in the mountains, and having experienced her might, as shown in the tempest she had, without doubt, visited upon them, they were prone to ascribe to her the possession of supernatural powers, and balked at the prospect of invading her territory. If the truth were told, Balboa himself was not without a trace of that same superstition, and he could understand the feelings of his men, if he did not, indeed, sympathize with them. When, therefore, at the end of a week of fruitless quest, wandering in the forest and seeking in vain a conflict with the fugitive Zemaco, he found himself back at the point of departure on the Rio Negro, he for a time gave up the hunt and abandoned his search for the golden goddess and temple.

The unsolved mystery of the idol and temple continued to vex the Spaniards for many a year. When an indomitable soldier like Vasco Nunez de Balboa found himself frustrated in the search for them, few others had the courage to take it up. It was not like Balboa to retire and acknowledge himself defeated, and it was much against his will that he turned his back upon the unseen Dobaybe and set his face towards Darien again. He did not, however, abandon the project utterly, and gave a pledge that he would sometime return, by leaving behind a body of thirty soldiers, under command of Bartolome Hurtado, who were to hold the country in subjection. They took possession of a deserted village on the Rio Negro, and, while Balboa with the main body descended the river to Darien, ranged through the country in pursuit of fugitives.

From what afterwards transpired, it would seem that Cacique Zemaco had been playing a game of deep duplicity with his more civilized opponent, and, whether he held possession of the golden Dobaybe or not, had some sort of a stronghold in the mountains to which he could retreat on occasion, and which Balboa had not been able to reach. As soon as the latter's back was turned, he descended from his stronghold, and spread his warriors along the rivers, retaking the deserted villages and collecting their inhabitants together.

When Hurtado and his little band were left alone in the wilderness, Zemaco perceived an opportunity for revenge upon the Spaniards; but he was cautious and had a wholesome fear of their weapons. He waited until Hurtado had detached more than half his total force, for the purpose of taking their prisoners to Darien, and then launched his bolts of war. Hurtado's captives were placed in a large boat guarded by fifteen or twenty Spaniards, most of whom were invalided through wounds or sickness, and thus scarcely ten sound men remained behind in the Indian country. The boat descended the Rio Negro very slowly, for it was heavily laden with its human freightage, and late one afternoon, when between forest-covered banks that closely approached and cast a gloom upon the waters, it was attacked by Zemaco and his warriors. They were in four canoes, and were armed with war-clubs and lances. Shouting their war-cries, they surrounded the boat containing the Spaniards, and with the assistance of the prisoners massacred all save two. These two escaped by leaping into the river and clinging to the trunk of a great tree which was floating with the current. They hid themselves in the branches, and, being over-looked by the Indians, finally reached the shore and returned to Hurtado with their tidings of disaster. The commander was so disheartened that he at once abandoned his post on the Rio Negro and hastened to Darien with all speed. It is surprising that Zemaco did not attack him when on the way, as he had an overwhelming force, and his recent victory had inspired him with confidence; but as it afterwards was ascertained, he was then in secret conference with the caciques of all the provinces, four in number, for the purpose of totally exterminating the Spaniards. Hurtado carried the tidings of this conspiracy to Darien, having received intimation of it from a captive; but the inhabitants considered his fears of an uprising largely imaginary, incited by his recent disaster, and made no preparations for receiving the enemy if he should appear.

At this time there comes into view once more the beautiful Cacica, who had been left in Darien when Balboa went on his expedition up the Atrato. She had urged him to take her with him, saying that her place was by her lord and master's side; but he had refused, because, as he said, space on board the brigantine was limited, and there was room for soldiers only. He had given his house into her charge at parting, and when he returned she proudly showed him what she had done to improve its condition, receiving his praises therefor with great delight. But rumors soon reached Balboa that during his absence the Cacica had received under her roof a young warrior, who had come and gone at night--as a spy might have done, said the sentinels who watched outside the walls of the town. These rumors were verified by reports from the spies whom Balboa himself had left to watch the Cacica while he was away. He ardently loved her--of that there could be no doubt; but, as a Spaniard, he was naturally suspicious.

These spies were certain that the visiting Indian was a warrior of Zemaco's band, and thought he might be a relative of the Cacica, or a former lover whom Balboa had supplanted. They, too, sought to intercept him; but the wary Indian escaped them every time, and they could only report that he had been there and undoubtedly held conference with the Cacica. When Balboa heard these reports he was deeply disturbed, for, notwithstanding his suspicions, he wished to have confidence in his mistress, and disliked to think evil of her. He was uncertain whether he had better keep the information to himself, and meanwhile watch the girl narrowly for signs of deceit, or openly accuse her of treachery to his trust. He adopted a middle course, and one day, while they were conversing upon the events of the expedition, artfully contrived to involve her in the confession that hardly a day had passed in which she had not indirectly heard from him.

"And who was the messenger, my love?" asked Balboa, calmly, but with his heart beating furiously and his eyes flashing.

"My brother, sometimes, my cousin, and again my brother--for, you know, I have many brothers," replied the Cacica, artlessly.

"Yes, I know," rejoined Balboa. "But why should they come to you so frequently, and always at night?"

"Because I wanted tidings of you, my lord; and for that they could not come too often! At night, too, because they could not get within the town by daytime. For there were sentinels and spies, my lord. Did you not know there were spies?" asked the Cacica, archly, her eyes dancing mischievously.

"I--I knew there were spies," answered Balboa, hesitatingly. Then, suddenly assuming a stern and wrathful expression, he grasped the girl's wrists and, looking straight into her eyes, demanded: "What did your people tell you when they came to my house in the night-time? Did they say aught of the cacique Zemaco and of the conspiracy he is forming against me? Tell me, and truly, girl, for if thou liest thou mayst lose thy life!"

"I will tell you," answered the Cacica, slowly. "Not because you threaten me, but for the love I bear you. My life is yours, to take at any time." She returned his gaze fearlessly, and in her eyes Balboa could detect no trace of deceit or alarm.

"I am a cacique's daughter," she continued, proudly, "though in your eyes a savage and a slave. Your life and the lives of your friends are in my hands--until I tell you; then my life and the lives of my people are at your mercy. Yet I will tell you, because you are still my lord, and I have left my people to go with you and stay within your house.

"Know, then, that my brothers came to warn me to fly with them and hide in the mountains, for the men of my race can no longer endure the atrocities committed by the invaders, and are resolved to fall upon them soon by sea and by land. In the town of Tichiri are collected one hundred canoes and five thousand warriors, and the preparations are made for striking a blow that shall destroy your power forever!"

IX

HOW THE CONSPIRACY WAS DEFEATED

1512

The story told by the Cacica bore the stamp of truth, but Balboa was, or pretended to be, unconvinced, and induced her to send for the brother who had revealed the plot, that he might question him. As she hesitated, he said, "Since he desired you to go with him, you can say you are ready, and he will return."

"Yes, he will return. But how will he be received?" she asked, dubiously. "I would not have harm come to him, for his warning was from love of me, my lord."

"And for love of me I ask you to send for him," replied Balboa, evasively. He had released the Cacica's hands, and she had fallen into a hammock, where she lay listlessly, with a look of distress in her eyes and a great fear at her heart.

She could not understand how one she loved would willingly cause her pain; but she felt that Balboa was pressing home a weapon that might pierce her heart and end her days in misery. She had entangled herself in a net of her own weaving, however, and there was but one course to pursue. So she sent for the brother who, in his anxiety to save her from the massacre in which the Spaniards were about to be involved, had given the warning. He was one of Zemaco's warriors, and employed as a scout. Upon receiving a message from his sister he at once hastened to her side, whence he was torn by emissaries of Balboa, who cast him into a dungeon. There he was promptly visited by the magistrates of Darien, at the head of whom was Balboa, and severely questioned as to what he knew of the plot. He denied all knowledge of Zemaco's movements, and one of the magistrates cried out: "Then put him to the torture. Bring a bowstring hither!"

This order having been complied with by the jailer, he then said: "Bind it about his forehead, and twist it till his eyes begin to bulge! Perchance then he will tell what he knows."

This was done, and the cruel jailer twisted the bowstring with a stick until the Indian's eyes seemed about to burst from their sockets. Unable longer to endure the torture, he cried, in agony, "Oh, release me, and I will indeed tell all!" Then he fainted, for he was but a youth, and, though accounted as a warrior, was yet of slight physique and delicate. Vasco Nunez de Balboa, who was standing by, could not but have noted his resemblance to the Cacica, whom he had often sworn he loved; yet he made no effort to release him.

The unhappy youth related what he had told his sister, and the story was the same that she had told, only there was something added. Gasping for breath, and with temples throbbing from agonizing pain, the hapless boy said that Zemaco had long before plotted the death of Balboa, and had for this purpose posted his warriors in disguise among the Indian laborers in the fields. They watched for weeks an opportunity to take the commander off his guard; but, though they valued not their lives at all, they were intimidated by the horse which he rode and the long lance he carried, and finally gave up the attempt upon his life. This failure had determined Zemaco to form the conspiracy with the other caciques, and to this scheme he was devoting all his energies.

As the boy proceeded with his relation, and detailed the means by which the plan against Balboa's life had been frustrated, it flashed upon that worthy that his going to the fields every day fully armed and mounted on horseback was owing to the Cacica's pleadings. Otherwise he would have gone without armor, in his doublet and hose, and on foot. Thus he would certainly have fallen a victim to the Indian's rage, and thus--it became evident even to his perverted sense--he owed his life to the sister of that frail boy before him, whom he had allowed to be tortured. Then his heart misgave him surely, and, awaking from the trance into which his evil thoughts had plunged him, he exclaimed: "Release that youth. Cast off his bonds and bathe his brow where the cord hath wounded it. He hath done nothing, and I did not mind to torture him to extremity; only to elicit the truth--and that we have done. So set him free."

The magistrates murmured and protested: "It is not customary, nor is it safe, to set free one who has been put to the torture, lest, in revenge, he hold murderous plans against us. Let us now finish him, with the sword or with the garrote, and done with it."

"Nay, nay!" exclaimed Balboa, excitedly. "I am governor, though you are, by my grace, the magistrates. I take this youth under my protection, and woe be to them who dare molest him!"

"As your excellency commands," retorted one of the magistrates. "He certainly hath claims upon you, if what rumor says may be believed: to wit, that his sister is thy--"

"That for thy insolence," exclaimed Balboa, stopping the objectionable word with a blow on the magistrate's mouth. "Let it be known that this youth hath my protection, and," he added, with an ominous frown, "let what may please you be said about it--behind my back; but not in front of me!" With that he strode out of the dungeon, leading the wondering Indian by the hand. And thus, bruised and disfigured, the trembling youth was taken to Balboa's house, and left there to be cared for by the Indian maiden.

It may seem to have been the refinement of cruelty thus to force upon the Cacica this victim of the Spaniards' barbarity; but in the eyes of Balboa she was merely a savage whose charms had ensnared him temporarily. Possessing neither delicacy nor keen moral perception, he mistakenly reasoned that the Cacica would overlook this wanton outrage upon her brother and forgive the perpetrators of it. She was his slave, subject to his every whim; but still she had a heart and a conscience, and she was capable of resentment. Though she had so carefully concealed her feelings that he imagined she would always be mild and passive, no matter what occurred, the Cacica really possessed a deep, revengeful nature.

When Balboa and her brother appeared before her, she clutched at her heart, as if to still its beatings, but said nothing, though a single glance told her what had occurred. She led her brother away, to a hut outside the palm-thatched structure which served Balboa as a dwelling, and was about to bathe his bruised forehead, when he repulsed her with a gesture of disgust.

She did not ask why, for she knew, and he did not waste words in telling her that she was a traitress, and was solely responsible for what had occurred to him. In silent dignity he gathered up his bow and arrows, which had been left with the Cacica when he was thrust into the dungeon, and without one word of farewell stalked off into the forest.

Then the Cacica knew that she had incurred the hatred of her tribe, as well as lost the respect of her master, by revealing the plot of Zemaco. She had done it for love of Balboa, as she had assured him; but now that she realized her position, as an outcast from her people, and, despised by the brother who had risked his life to save her own, she hated her master, and loathed him. Thenceforth she lived only for revenge; but, with the cunning of a savage, she concealed her real feelings from Balboa, and appeared to him only the dutiful slave. She lived silent and apart, but ever nursing a scheme of vengeance which in due time cost Vasco Nunez de Balboa his life.

Through the treachery to her people of the Cacica, and the confession elicited by torture from her unhappy brother, Balboa came into possession of all the facts regarding the purposed insurrection of the caciques. He lost no time in acting upon this information, but promptly summoned his officers in council. His chief reliance was, as may have been divined already, the stout-hearted Colmenares, who had shared with him the dangers of several expeditions, in all of which he had borne himself with courage and resolution. While the magistrates were uncertain what course should be pursued, some advising an immediate retreat from a place so fraught with danger to themselves, both from the savages and from the climate, which was killing off the settlers by scores, Colmenares alone gave his commander the advice he liked. Balboa had settled in his own mind what he should do, but he desired to be supported by a certain show of authority, conferred by his coadjutors, in order to have a loop-hole for escape in case the adventure should prove disastrous.

"I can conceive of no other course than immediate pursuit," said the gallant Colmenares. "The redskins meditated taking us unawares and putting us to death, without a possible opportunity for escape. Hence they must have determined upon attacking us both by sea and by land. In sooth, the great gathering of canoes at the town of Tichiri shows that. What, then, is the proper mode of attack for us to adopt but their own, only in the reverse? That is, a body of our troops to proceed by water and another by land, thus taking the savages by flank and cutting off all chance of retreat. So far as our ability goes to combat them, you will of course agree with me that there is no great risk. And this I say with due regard for truth."

"Which I have always found thee to observe, and also to weigh carefully the things that make for success as well as defeat," replied Balboa. "In short, Rodrigo, thou'rt a careful commander, and thy scheme was the very one I myself should propose; but thou shalt have the credit of it. Take, then, Rodrigo, sixty of our men and embark them in canoes for Tichiri, while I, with seventy, will make a wide circuit by land, and thus we will fall upon the savages by front and by rear. Provision the boats for a few days only, for we shall in all probability find enough to eat by the way, and especially when we shall have taken the town and sacked it of what it contains. There are, I understand, five principal caciques in the league, four besides the arch-scoundrel Zemaco, and, assembling as they have been from every quarter far and near, they will have brought with them of supplies a sufficient store."

To the blare of trumpet and roll of drum, the entire garrison assembled within the stockade, and the two commanders picked their men from the ranks. Only the stoutest and most valiant were taken, those who had been tried before and were accustomed to Indian warfare; but nearly all desired to go, scenting spoils in prospective and tiring of inaction at Darien. Some could not, through being stretched on beds of pain, afflicted with wounds or disease; others could not, because of some disability of which their commander was cognizant; for he knew his little garrison to the last man, and was never at a loss to judge its strength or weakness. This was one secret of his success, another being his generosity; for he never withheld from any soldier his share of plunder, and was the last to think of himself.

"Oh ho," he laughed, as the volunteers came pressing forward, some shaking with ague, some limping on crutches, and all filled with enthusiasm. "So ye all desire to go? I' faith, but I wish ye all could do so. But go back to your posts, my good men, all that can manage a cross-bow or an arquebuse, and there keep vigilant watch, for who knows when, or in what manner, the foe may appear? Rodrigo and I will go forth, the one by water and the other by land; but there must perforce be a great gap of forest between us, through which the savages may come by stealth and fall upon the town. So, I say, keep watch by night and by day; and inasmuch as all are engaged in a common defence, and all entitled to equal shares in the spoils, even so shall it be."

Balboa was moved thus to deliver himself, because of ten thousand pieces of gold in the treasury, remaining undivided, which his enemies declared he intended to seize for himself and send as a donative to the king. For this reason he said, "We shall all share alike, from commander down to drummer-boy and trumpeter, and no man shall be deprived of his portion."

Then he marched off at the head of his armored band of braves, followed by the acclaim of those he left behind to guard the town. As for those who went with him: being all of them gallant souls, and generous to a fault, more disposed to fight for treasure than to quarrel over its division afterwards, they acquiesced without a murmur. Colmenares had already embarked his force of sixty men, when Balboa set off and lost himself in the forest with his seventy, so that the settlement appeared quite deserted.

The canoes of Colmenares were paddled by stalwart Indians taken from Careta's tribe, who were ignorant of the intended uprising, but could not, of course, be unaware that the expedition was proceeding against some of their people with hostile purpose. But they asked no questions, being reasonably certain that any such would be answered only by blows, and exerted their strength to such good purpose that by nightfall of the day in which they had embarked the Spaniards reached the vicinity of Tichiri. It was probably at or near a place now indicated on the map as "Punta Escondida," or Lost Point, and may have been thus named because of its vague and misty appearance in the shades of evening-time.

The shore seemed formless, and the forests that came down to the water stretched away black and forbidding, but the darkness was pierced by numerous points of light, where blazed the Indian camp-fires, and the "tam-tam-tam" of the drums proclaimed an assemblage for the purpose of war or conference. Colmenares waited till the drums had ceased their beating and the camp-fires had been swallowed up by the darkness, then the canoes were guided stealthily to the shore and the soldiers landed. The landing could not be made without some sound, such as the clanging of armor against armor, or the striking of sword or lance against a gunwale; yet the savages were so confident that no enemy was near that they were not disturbed, and slumbered while the force formed on the beach.

Preceded by the dogs of war, a pack of three having been brought by Colmenares for this very purpose, the Spaniards crept towards the camp, extending their line as they approached and perceived its great proportions. As the scent of the quarry reached their nostrils, the dogs could no longer be restrained, and leaped forward with deep-mouthed howls into the midst of the slumbering foe. Instantly arose shrieks of terror and pain as the beasts tore the inoffensive savages to pieces, and these were followed by wild tumult when the reports of arquebuses rose above all other sounds and the Spaniards burst from their concealment with loud shouts.

The terrified Indians knew not which way to turn, and huddled together in a mass, upon the outer skirts of which the hounds tore and ravened at will, while the cross-bows and musketry played destructively. Finally, perceiving that no opposition was offered, or likely to be, by the terror-stricken savages, Colmenares ordered the trumpeter to sound the recall, and the attendants to draw off the hounds; but it was a long time before the detestable beasts could be made to quit their prey.

X

DISSENSIONS IN THE COLONY

1512

The savages surprised by Colmenares in Tichiri were under a captain, or sub-chief, whose name has not been preserved, but who received swift punishment at the hands of his own people for the crime of rebellion against Balboa. As soon as the Spanish commander had ascertained in which direction he was to look for the captain, he sent a small body of men in search of him. One of his own followers handed Colmenares the bow and spear that he usually carried, and, having presented this to the most sagacious of the hounds for his inspection, the brute sniffed the air an instant, then set off into the midst of the crowd. He and his two companions had been dragged from their victims while yet their blood-stained jaws held ghastly shreds and fragments of human flesh, and it was with his ferocious instincts roused to the highest pitch that the hound darted through the throng of Indians and leaped upon the cowering chieftain.

He was expecting death, and had calmly prepared himself to meet his fate; but such a terrible apparition as this he was unprepared for, and as the hound's fangs sank into his quivering flesh he shrieked in agony of pain and terror. It was with difficulty that the enraged animal was induced to release his hold, and suffered repeated blows from the mailed fists of his attendants before he would do so. Then the mangled savage was conducted before Colmenares, who had cleared a space in the centre of the camp and there held an impromptu court-martial upon the leaders of the insurrection. The instigator of the rebellion, Zemaco, had escaped, but four of the sub-caciques, including the captain of the band, were captured, owing to the swift and secret movements of the Spaniards.

With Colmenares acting in the capacity of judge, the proceedings of the "court" were confined to the identification of the victims as leaders and men of influence among the Indians. Their guilt was assumed from the positions they held, and as soon as their identity was established they were promptly sentenced: the captain to be shot to death with arrows by his own followers, and the caciques to be hanged. The sentence was carried out at break of dawn next morning. Scarcely had the sun gilded with his first rays the topmost branches of the forest trees, before the caciques were led out to meet their doom. A broad-based ceiba-tree, or silk-cotton, reared its huge bulk near the centre of the clearing, and up its buttressed trunk a pair of soldiers swarmed to its lower-most limb, over which they swung ropes made of grass, with nooses at their ends. These nooses were then slipped over the heads of the caciques, and soon they were suspended in the air, gasping their lives away, until they were naught but contorted corpses, upon which their former subjects gazed in speechless horror.

The extent to which the Indians had been terrorized by the Spaniards was more fully shown by what followed when the captain was brought to execution. He was placed with his back against the ceiba-tree, his arms and legs tightly pinioned, and compelled to face his slayers, who were archers selected from his body-guard. He faced them dauntlessly, and, calling upon the most skilful archer by name, directed him to shoot at his heart and end his misery without unnecessary delay.

"I blame ye not," he said to his men, "for ye are compelled, I know. Moreover, I shall the more gladly die, knowing that your weapons cause my death, and not those of the foe. Shoot straight, and trouble not thyself," he said to the foremost archer, who, as he was about to bend the bow, craved pardon for his act. The bowstring twanged, the chief's head drooped, and it was seen that the arrow had pierced his breast up to the feather. As the body fell forward several Indians sprang to catch it, and there was some confusion, during which it was perceived that the savage who had slain his chief was placing another arrow on the string. The quick eye of Colmenares caught him in the act, and fearing the shaft was intended for himself--as doubtless it was--he ordered him disarmed. One of the soldiers would have thrust him through with a lance, but the commander prevented him from doing this, perhaps realizing that he had committed atrocities enough, and had put upon this poor savage more than weak human nature could endure.

In the midst of the hubbub that ensued, there sounded the roll of a drum, followed by other noises, that proclaimed the approach of an armed force from the direction of the hills. In fact, Balboa and his men, who had been detained by the countless obstructions to a passage through a virgin forest, made their appearance shortly, and soon the two commanders met and embraced.

"Ha, Rodrigo," exclaimed Balboa, glancing at the grewsome objects hanging from the limb of the ceiba-tree, "but you have forestalled me, son, and saved me trouble. I had feared it might be necessary to swing up a savage or two, and it seems you have done it with despatch. Sorry am I that we were detained; but such is the fortune of those who seek to penetrate these forests. All the day and the night we have struggled against nature's impediments to our progress, and on my soul, Rodrigo, we are worn down and famishing."