The Rose Demon

34

‘Nothing to the north! Nothing to the south!’ The lookout’s voice was whipped away by the wind.

Matthias, standing on the forecastle of the Santa Maria, watched the great waves pitch and break over the bulwarks. On either side of Columbus’ ship, the two caravels, the Nina and Pinta, moved briskly under an easterly wind. Matthias heard Columbus’ reply from the stern. As always: ‘West ever west! Helmsman, watch my mark!’

Beside Columbus, Raphael Murillo turned the hourglass. Matthias stared up, the sky was darkening, soon it would be night. Columbus would order lanterns to be swung from the stern and one of the bombards fired, a signal to the Pinzon brothers to close up for the night. Matthias never really knew whether Columbus was frightened of losing his fellow captains or fearful that they would steal a march on him. They had left the Canaries well behind them and now, as the Captain General said, they were in the hands of God. Everything depended on Columbus, his maps and charts and, above all, his astrolabe and quadrant which he used for taking the height of the sun at midday and the pole star at night to determine what latitude they were crossing.

Matthias was baffled by such technicalities. He put more trust in what the men said about Columbus, that he navigated by dead reckoning whereby he plotted the position of the ships by the map in his mind.

Matthias leant against the rail and became lost in his own memories. He had fled from the scene of Morgana’s murder and gone straight back to the port. The following day he had returned up the hill but had found no trace of her corpse or the wineskin or any blood, no indication that he and Morgana had lain there. Matthias had waited. Perhaps the authorities had discovered the corpse? He’d joined his companions in the tavernas or sitting out on the quayside chatting with the fishermen. He heard nothing, even though some of his companions had learnt about the beautiful, red-haired woman and constantly teased him about her. Matthias wondered who had killed Morgana. Had someone been following them? Was it the Rose Demon’s work or someone else’s? Matthias shook his head, that would be impossible. He had also closely scrutinised the crew. Morgana had said that he was being watched but by whom? Matthias realised a subtle game was being played with him. It would be virtually impossible to track such a man down. Columbus had left it to the crew where and when they attended Mass whilst, in the tightly enclosed spaces of his three ships, discussion about religion or any disputatious topic was strictly forbidden. And Morgana? Matthias wondered why she had given up her life so easily? Surely this wasn’t the thanks the servants of the Rose Demon received? She had been killed yet she’d never struggled or cried out. Her assassin had come like a thief in the night, her death being sprung on her like a trap.

On Wednesday, 5 September, the evening before they sailed, Baldini, Murillo and the rest had persuaded Matthias to come to a party, a wild raucous affair in a ramshackle taverna in an alleyway off the quayside. The wine flowed like water, fresh meats and fish grilled over charcoal, smothered in the vegetable sauce, were served up on trenchers. Each platter had a hunk of soft, white bread to mop the juices up. There had been singing and dancing, the usual tomfoolery before sailors prepared to leave port. Matthias had drunk a little more deeply than he wanted. A young girl had come up and sat on his lap but Matthias had pushed her away. At last the Pinzons and other officers came to take the sailors back to the ships. Matthias was following the rest out of the door; the men were shouting their farewells, blowing kisses at the girls when Matthias heard his name called out.

‘Farewell, Matthias! Take care of yourself, Creatura!’

The words were spoken in English. Matthias had stared at the woman through a drunken haze. He had not noticed her before. She had deep olive skin, black hair which fell like a veil, shrouding her beautiful face, her eyes were bold, her mouth pert. She stared at Matthias boldly, lifted one bare shoulder and winked. In that moment the fug cleared from Matthias’ mind. He saw the look in those eyes and knew that, whatever the girl called herself, Morgana’s spirit was there. Matthias had returned to the ship baffled. Were other beings spirits in the service of the Rose Demon? At the same time he recognised Morgana’s cleverness: her death had removed any thought of flight from his mind and now, whether he liked it or not, Matthias Fitzosbert was committed body and soul to Columbus’ great venture and whatever lay waiting for him across this broad, unknown, mysterious ocean.

Matthias walked up and down the forecastle. Now and again he’d stop to check the hourglass placed there and, when the sand ran out, turn it over. He’d watch the glass until midnight, when he’d be relieved and others would take over. Darkness fell. The stars seemed brighter, closer than they did on land. Matthias wondered how far they had sailed. Columbus had been rash in proclaiming that the voyage would be 750 miles. The crew had taken him at his word and, each day, the distance was carefully measured. The excitement of leaving land had now faded. The rigours of ship life were making themselves felt. The water had turned brackish, the wine slightly sour, the biscuits and bread hard, the meat too well spiced and salted. The men crowded each other, the chance to be alone was a luxury. Moreover, despite the strictest instructions, the ship now stank. Men fell ill, vomited and retched, or ran, clutching their stomachs, to the side, as their bowels turned to water. Every day the slops were washed out; buckets of seawater were taken down to sluice the bilges, rats were hunted and killed. As the ships drove on, the crew greedily recalled the luxuries of the Canaries and returned to counting the miles.

‘Matthias, Matthias Fitzosbert!’ The voice just came out of the darkness.

Matthias walked to the rail and stared down. The sea swelled and broke beneath him. He looked back along the deck: in the faint light of the lantern he glimpsed men sleeping in nooks, crannies and corners, their blankets pulled over them.

‘Matthias! Matthias!’ The voice was hollow like someone shouting down a funnel. ‘Listen now!’

Matthias seized the rail, gripping it. Was he hearing the voice? Or was it in his own mind?

‘Listen now! Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! Due west! Due west! We shall meet again!’

‘Look!’

Matthias broke from his reverie. On the deck men were stirring themselves, pointing up to the sky. A comet, a falling star, was soaring across the night sky. Members of the crew, Columbus and his officers, now joined Matthias on the foredeck.

‘What is it?’ someone asked.

‘A falling star,’ Escobedo replied.

‘A comet,’ another one observed.

‘It’s a sign!’ Columbus added, eager to seize any opportunity to vindicate himself. ‘It’s a sign from God! We shall not be disappointed!’

‘It’s like a rose, isn’t it?’ De Torres pointed up. ‘Look. There’s the flower and there’s the stem.’

Matthias watched the sign and wondered about that mysterious voice repeating the course the ship was following.

In the succeeding days, he realised how important that voice had been. The ships were now out on a sea that never ended, under a sky which yielded no recognisable horizon. On 19 September soundings were taken but, even with a 200 fathom line, no bottom was found. This drew dark looks but Columbus took comfort when two pelicans flew and rested on the ship’s mast, loudly declaring that such birds never fly far from land. The men reckoned that they had sailed far enough but still no land was in sight. They passed through a sea of weed, thick, greeny and slimy, which opened up before the ships then closed in around them.

On 23 September the winds dropped and they became becalmed until a great swell rose to lift the hull, the winds picked up and they sailed on. Now and again, the lookouts, eager to claim the reward, their eyes constantly scouring the horizon, sometimes shouted they had seen land but this was proved to be a figment of their imagination. The crew now began to demand exactly how far they had travelled and, more importantly, how much further they were to go. The Pinzon brothers came across to the Santa Maria to pore over Columbus’ charts and engage in fierce debate. Columbus stuck to his original order: ‘West, west! There’ll be no deviation and,’ he added, ‘if we return empty-handed to Spain, every man will have to face the fury of our royal patrons, Ferdinand and Isabella.’

The crew settled down. They forgot about the brackish water, weevil-ridden food, the stench of the ships, the sheer boredom and terror of such a long voyage. September passed. In October, however, the gloom deepened. Columbus had said that, on their voyage to Cathay and Cipango, they would pass the Island of the Blest discovered by the Irish saint and seafarer St Brendan. No island hove into sight. The men grumbled: if Columbus was wrong about the island couldn’t he be wrong about everything else?

On 8 October birds were seen flying south-west. The crew insisted that Columbus changed direction. Gathered on the deck, the men shouted that if birds flew in such a direction towards land, should they not follow? The Pinzon brothers on the Nina and Pinta came across and supported these cries. A vote was taken. Only two people voted not to change direction: Columbus and Matthias.

‘Why not, Englishman?’ Columbus called.

‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south,’ Matthias repeated the voice he had heard. ‘Ever west, Captain General. That was your order and we should keep to it.’

Columbus smiled bleakly but the rest of the crew, led by the Pinzons, were insistent. The Santa Maria changed tack.

That night the crew were comforted to hear more birds passing overhead. Four days later a look-out cried that he could see things in the water. A reed and a stick were picked up, as well as a piece of wood around which grass was wrapped. When these were brought aboard the excitement of the crew intensified, for the piece of wood looked as if it had been carved. The gloom lifted. The winds freshened. Escobedo announced that they were now travelling at 7 knots a day. Matthias was teased because he had been against the change in direction. One evening, just after sunset, Matthias was taking the first watch when he heard that mysterious voice again.

‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! You must sail ever west! Look for the light!’

Matthias stared round: on the far side of the foredeck a young sail-maker, Diego Yemodes, was squatting, stitching a piece of canvas, but he never looked up.

‘Nothing to the north! Nothing to the south! Ever west! Look for the light! Tell Columbus to look for the light!’

‘Is everything all right?’

Matthias jumped and turned round. Columbus was standing at the top of the steps staring at him curiously.

‘Why did you vote against changing direction, Englishman?’

‘I don’t know,’ Matthias lied, holding the Captain General’s gaze. ‘I still think it was a mistake to change.’

Columbus nodded and looked up at the night sky.

‘I believe you are right.’ He turned and went down the steps.

Matthias heard one of the bombards fire, followed by the slap of feet on the deck. Lanterns were lit, signals flashed to the Nina and Pinta. The Santa Maria, sails straining under the wind, changed tack at the shouts of the Captain General, back on the original course, due west.

Matthias forgot about his own anxieties. He felt the ship twist and turn. He heard something bump against the side, and looked over. It was a piece of wood, a branch or trunk. It swirled by so fast Matthias couldn’t determine. He went back to his watch. He stared so hard his eyes hurt and then he glimpsed it, a light like that of a wax candle, being moved up and down. He blinked and stared again. He was sure he had seen it. No star, no figment of his imagination or trick of the ocean. Again the light, up and down as if someone were signalling him through the darkness. He left his post and ran down to the deck, hammering on the door of Columbus’ cabin. The Captain General came bustling out. He took one look at Matthias’ face and went like a monkey up the steps, standing on the bowsprit, holding on to the ropes.

‘You saw something?’

‘Dead ahead,’ Matthias replied. ‘Nothing to the north, nothing to the south! Ever west!’

‘You are mis- No, I see it!’

Columbus jumped down. He was soon joined on the forecastle by other officers. The rest of the crew were aroused and from across the water came the boom of a bombard. The Pinta, too, had seen the light. All three ships now closed up. Sails were furled, strict orders given to hold their position. The whole crew, as if participating in a holy vigil, waited for dawn. Prayers were offered, the Salve Regina sung: throughout the night the three ships backed and filled under reduced canvas off this unknown shore. Columbus was like a man possessed. The men were impatient, urging Columbus to move closer but, when dawn broke, the Captain General’s caution was vindicated. They could see a white shoreline, trees rising up, surf seething along a coral rock which stretched like fangs up out of the sea; these would have torn their ships to shreds if they had tried to sail directly to shore.

Once daybreak had come, the three ships tacked along the coastline looking for a place to anchor. At last they found a bay and slipped in easily. The leadsmen sang out the depths until the signal was given to drop anchor. The men clustered on the deck and stared in wonderment: white sands, wooded hills, even the breeze had lost its salty, tangy taste and now wafted the sweeter smells of fruits and vegetation towards them. Figures were seen slipping in and out of the treeline.

‘Savages,’ Navarette, one of the most keen-sighted, reported from where he stood, halfway up the main mast. ‘Naked as babies, they are.’

All three ships’ boats were lowered. Columbus, now dressed in gilded armour, a great cloak round his shoulders and carrying the royal standard of Castile, clambered into his; the Pinzons, carrying the banners of the expedition, a green cross with the initials of the two sovereigns on either side, joined him. Matthias was also chosen to go and he climbed gingerly into the boat.

They reached the shoreline in a matter of minutes. Matthias felt strange to be on dry land again, a sensation not helped by the shimmering, white sands, the glare of the sun and the strange, exotic smells which swept down from the dark green forest which fringed the beach. He helped Baldini pull the boat further up out of the water. Columbus and a number of officers were already planting the standards of Spain into the hot sands before kneeling down. A prayer of thanksgiving was offered and ‘this land and all the territories appertaining to it’ were claimed in the name of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain.

A group of olive-skinnd figures slipped out of the trees and came down the beach. Matthias had heard all sorts of stories about the subjects of the Great Khan: how they were small, yellow, wizened and slant-eyed or had the faces of dogs. They, however, were olive-skinned, with jet-black hair which fell down as far as the nape of the neck, of good stature and very comely. They were naked as the day they were born and reminded Matthias of children as they moved shyly towards the Captain General. Some of the women wore beach clouts, with ivory ornaments round their necks and wrists. Dark-eyed, their high-cheekboned faces slightly turned away, as if they did not wish to look fully at these strange creatures. They jabbered quietly amongst themselves. A beautiful young woman, her hair half-covering her face, pinched her nose and giggled. Matthias smiled. With the wind behind them, the smell of Columbus and his party, not to mention that from the ships, must be highly offensive to these people. They bore gifts, fruit and food he’d never seen, and calabashes full of water. Their leader, a stocky young man, plucked up courage and walked towards Columbus. He touched the Captain General’s face and clothes and looked in wonderment at the banners flapping above him.

Columbus whispered instructions to de Torres, who shrugged and began to talk to the natives in English, Spanish, Arabic, French, Hebrew and Aramaic. The leader just looked at him, owl-eyed. Eventually, he did reply, his voice low and guttural. He pointed up to the skies, then at de Torres, who laughed and shook his head.

‘I can’t understand them fully, sir,’ he informed Columbus, ‘but he thinks we come from Heaven.’

The man began to talk again. Matthias, who had edged forward to study these people more closely, saw the look of welcome on the man’s face being replaced by that of fear. The leader repeated the word ‘Caniba’, and pointed out in a southerly direction. The word was taken up by his companions. De Torres caught their drift. He shook his head.

‘Not Caniba! Not Caniba!’ he replied.

Again the man spoke, this time using sign language. Despite the heat Matthias felt a chill go down his back. This young subject of the Great Khan left little to the imagination and Matthias almost knew how de Torres was going to translate it for Columbus.

‘He wants assurances that we are not the Caniba,’ he declared. ‘They are the great enemies of these people.’ He paused as the young Indian intervened and made waving movements with his hand. ‘He says they come here in great canoes,’ de Torres said slowly. ‘They take them prisoner, cut their throats, drink their blood and eat their flesh.’

‘They are not armed,’ Martin Pinzon spoke up. ‘Have you noticed that, sir? They carry no arms.’

Pinzon was correct. Matthias could see no bow or arrow, no sword, daggers, clubs or axes. De Torres drew his sword and held it up so it caught the sunlight. The natives gasped and stared, amazed. He handed the sword to the leader. However, instead of grasping the hilt, the man touched the blade and cut his finger. He stared down in astonishment at the blood welling from the small cut.

‘They know nothing of weapons,’ Escobedo whispered. ‘But Marco Polo, in his journals, says the subjects of the Great Khan are well armed.’

De Torres now sheathed his sword and, when he used a crossbow to bring down a seabird, the natives fell to the sand. Matthias began to wonder. Had they reached Cathay? The great island of Cipango? Or were they somewhere else? Who were these people who acted so innocently? Had they reached a paradise? But, if so, who were the Caniba? Was this a place where both the angels and demons lived? Matthias remembered that mysterious voice: he also wondered who, amongst these people with their childlike faces and innocent ways, had brought Columbus in by showing that mysterious light the evening before? The Captain General, however, had now noticed the small studs of gold in the natives’ noses and ears. He pointed at these and excitedly asked de Torres where they were from? The native leader, surprised by Columbus’ excitement, shrugged, took the gold from his nose and ears and handed it over. He pointed further south, chattering in his own tongue. Columbus stared round, not even waiting for de Torres to translate.

‘We are on the outskirts of Cathay,’ he declared. ‘Their mines and quarries, from which this gold came, must lie to the south.’ He snapped his fingers.

Baldini opened a small chest and Columbus distributed gifts: beads, coins, pieces of cloth and red bonnets. The natives, excited, took them like children seizing toys, only too willing to hand over the small pieces of gold they wore. Columbus then gave strict instructions that the people were not to be harmed or abused in any way.

‘They are,’ he declared, ‘the subjects of their Catholic Majesties.’

After they returned to the ships, those lucky enough to have accompanied the Captain General described what the rest had only seen from afar. Columbus loudly proclaimed he had found the Indies and was determined to sail south. However, late in the afternoon, more of the natives in long dugouts, the oars of which looked like bakers’ shovels, came out to greet all three ships. They brought more gifts, strange-looking fruits and small carvings. Columbus allowed some of the people on board and these gazed in wonderment up at the rigging. When the Captain General gave the order for one of the bombards to be fired, the natives caused much merriment by simply jumping overboard but, when they realised the sound meant them no harm, they laughed and splashed in the water like children.

Columbus sent another party ashore. These brought back cotton threads, multicoloured parrots and hooks made out of fishbones. They described strange plants and trees, talked of inner lakes full of fresh water, flocks of birds never seen before, so many they could darken the sun. Villages with huts made out of palm leaves: enormous snakes and other strange creatures. Matthias, like the rest, listened in wonderment. They also discovered the place they had landed was called Guaharini but Columbus rechristened it San Salvador. De Torres was unable to discover what tongue the natives spoke but soon they established a common list of words and left the rest to sign language. Columbus learnt that there were two islands further along the coast much larger than this, called Colba and Bohio. The Captain General was determined to reach these and, in the succeeding days, the Santa Maria and its two caravels edged along the coastline.

Columbus still maintained an iron discipline, placing lookouts with strict instructions, for the entire coastline was protected by a long line of cruel-looking reefs which could rip the bottom out of any of his craft. The Captain General soon proved he was a brilliant navigator. Time and again he managed to thread through these reefs into naturally formed harbours and ports. They landed on two more islands which were christened Isabella and Hispaniola. The natives were like those they first met, friendly, unarmed, innocent and eager to please. Sometimes Columbus took a few with him, determined that they would be his scouts who would eventually lead him to the great kingdom of the Khan.

Matthias found the voyage strange. Blue skies, soft white fluffy clouds, gentle breezes and warm sun prevailed. He recalled how, in England, autumn would be giving way to winter, with savage cold winds, driving sleet, dying leaves and iron-grey skies. Matthias was still perplexed, unable to establish what was so special about this place: why the Rose Demon and his followers such as Morgana had been so determined that he come here.

Even the Captain General now suspected that, perhaps, he had not reached the Indies. He took careful note of the fruits, trees, birds and creatures they discovered. Some of these were killed and dried for passage back to Spain but the Captain General still cherished dreams of casks of silver.

They eventually reached Colba, which Columbus renamed Cuba: high mountains soaring up to the sky, strange palm trees. The natives were similar to those they had met earlier, bringing out beds made out of netting, small gold figurines, harpoons and fruit. They listened patiently to Columbus’ interminable questions about Golden Cathay, nodding and pointing, as the others had, further south. All of them were friendly and showed no fear of Columbus and his party until the word ‘Caniba’ was used. In Cuba the daughter of a chieftain came aboard. De Torres questioned her closely. ‘The Caniba,’ de Torres explained, having listened carefully to the young woman, ‘live further to the south.’ He paused as the young woman chattered again. ‘They paint their faces red and have cords tied along their legs and arms,’ de Torres translated. ‘They come in long canoes and raid these islands. They take the people and use their flesh as meat: small babies they regard as a delicacy. They show no mercy or compassion.’

Columbus, seated on a chair with the girl at his feet, told de Torres to tell the girl that she need not fear. He, with his bombards, would destroy the Caniba. The young woman listened attentively. Her soft, gentle face, however, remained concerned. She replied slowly, carefully using her fingers to paint pictures in the air.

‘You cannot kill them,’ de Torres explained to Columbus and the rest. ‘They are as many as the grains in the sand. They fear no one.’

A few days later they reached the island of Bohio. Its young cacique or chieftain, who called himself Cuacagnari, showed Columbus and his party some of the terrors of the Caniba. The chieftain, a young man of no more than twenty summers, met them on the beach bringing gifts of fruit and the juice of mastic trees which Columbus recognised as valuable and hoped to take back to Spain. The conversation followed the line of others, de Torres translating. Columbus described the glory of Spain, the power of Ferdinand and Isabella, the strength of their bombards and again asked where was Cathay or Cipango? The cacique listened attentively and again, to Columbus’ exasperation, pointed further south. However, he made signs with his hands that they should go no further. He, too, talked of Caniba and brought forward three of his subjects: these had several ugly wounds on their arms and legs, as if a dog had taken great bites out of them though the flesh had healed well. The cacique explained how these people had been captured by the Caniba. They had begun to eat them alive but then they had escaped. Columbus and his party stared in disbelief. When they returned to their ships, the Captain General and the Pinzon brothers debated whether they should sail further south or change tack. A dispute broke out and the following day, without taking his leave, Martin Pinzon and the Pinta crew slipped their moorings and left, determined to make their own discoveries. Columbus continued his journey. One morning, towards the end of November, he came to a small island. He fired a bombard for he knew that the news of their arrival had spread the length and breadth of the archipelago. The natives would be expecting him and invariably flocked down to the beach. This time there was no such reception: the beach was empty, the trees, a long, dark forbidding line.

‘Fitzosbert! Baldini!’ Columbus ordered. ‘Take the boat and go ashore!’

Two of the sailors were ordered to go with them as an escort. All four were armed with crossbows, swords and daggers. The boat was beached, the two sailors left on guard. Matthias with Baldini entered the dark line of trees. Matthias was now used to such forests, with their palm trees very similar to those he had seen on the Canaries, gaily coloured birds, strange smells, the chattering clatter of the jungle around him. They found a trackway, Baldini going first. Now and again they’d stop to leave a mark to ensure they did not get lost. They must have journeyed for some time, and the deeper they went into the jungle, the more concerned Matthias became. He suspected they were being watched: he was sure he had seen dark figures slip through the jungle on either side of him.

‘I think we should return.’ Matthias stopped.

He armed his crossbow. At the same time came the thud of a bombard from the Santa Maria, a prearranged signal that something was wrong. Matthias, not waiting for Baldini’s agreement, turned and ran back along the trackway. He stopped and looked over his shoulder: Baldini was following him. Matthias also glimpsed something else, a flash of red amongst the trees.

‘We are being followed!’ he shouted, and ran on.

Because he was on the trackway, he was certain they could move faster than their pursuers. Matthias, drenched in sweat, kept looking to the right and left, fearful lest the pursuers encircle them and cut off their escape. At last he turned a bend and saw the beach stretching out before them. He glimpsed the Santa Maria. The two sailors had pushed the boat back into the shallows and were waiting for them. He turned to urge Baldini to run faster but the young Spaniard had stopped, chest heaving. He was smiling, staring strangely at Matthias.

‘Come on!’ Matthias urged.

‘Why, Creatura bona atque parva?’ The words sounded so strange in this exotic, humid, strange-smelling jungle: a far cry from the greenery of Gloucestershire, the cool darkness of the church at Tenebral. ‘These are our friends, Matthias. These are my subjects. I will die to become one of them but you have nothing to fear.’

Matthias heard a shout from behind him. He turned and stared in horror. Two natives had stepped on to the track, blocking his way. Matthias had never seen such fierceness: tall men, darker-skinned than the natives he had met, with cords wrapped high along the calves of their legs. Each carried a club or axe. Their faces reminded him of ghouls, red ochre round the eyes, the cheeks and mouth smeared in white: blue and gold cockatoo feathers pushed into their cropped, matted hair. Matthias took a step forward. Both men were looking past him, eyes on Baldini as if they recognised him.

‘Caniba!’ Matthias spat out the word.

The leader stepped forward, mouth open, teeth like that of a dog, sharp and jagged. Matthias brought the crossbow up and fired, the shaft hit the man full in the chest. The other leapt forward. Matthias struck him with the crossbow and burst into a run, down the sun-dappled forest path. Behind him he heard a cry, a howl, long and blood-chilling.

The forest became alive with sound. Matthias turned to his left. Dark shapes were now running through the trees but, because of the undergrowth, not as fast as him. He reached the beach. Matthias heard the crash of a bombard, saw a puff of smoke and a stone ball crashed into the jungle behind him. He was now running for the boat. A terrible scream echoed from the forest behind him. He did not know whether it was Baldini or one of his pursuers. His chest ached, his legs felt heavy. He reached the shoreline, the water was cold as he splashed out, arms extended and he was hoisted aboard. One of the sailors was screaming. Matthias heard the twang of a crossbow, oars splashing and the boat pulled away.

Matthias stumbled to his knees and gasped in astonishment. The entire beach was filling with Caniba, armed with spears and clubs, their coloured, jaunty headdresses bobbing in the breeze. These surged down to the water line, shouting their war cries, waving spears and clubs. Matthias kept still as the oarsmen cursed him. The boat was small and narrow and there was a danger that it would be upset.

‘To the left!’ one of them shouted.

Matthias looked over. Canoes were now being brought down to the water line but, at last, the sailors were out of danger. The boat bobbed against the side of the Santa Maria even as Matthias heard the Captain General order the bombards to be fired again. The three men climbed over the rails: the boat was secured, the anchor raised and the Santa Maria turned for the open sea.