Elcano and the First Circumnavigation of the World

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Prologue

My name is Mark West, and I am an English historian specializing in the era of European voyages to India, the New World, and the Pacific, commonly referred to as the Age of Discovery or the Age of Exploration. I have a PhD in History from Kings College, Cambridge, an MA in Spanish from Salamanca University, with specialization in medieval Spanish literature, and post-doctoral experience of research in the Archivo General de Indias (Archives of the Indies) in Sevilla.

Two years ago, in the Archivo, I was researching the first circumnavigation of the world between 1519 and 1522, generally erroneously attributed to Fernando Magellan, but actually completed by Juan Sebastián Elcano after the death of Magellan in what is now the Philippines. The documents that relate to the life of this man are scarce although there are accounts of the voyage written by some of the survivors who arrived back in Sevilla in 1522. For example, the account of the voyage by the Italian Antonio Pigafetta fails to credit Elcano with command of the one ship that completed the voyage after the death of Magellan, probably because of his devotion to Magellan, and his inability to forgive Elcano for taking part in the mutiny against Magellan in the port of San Julián in Patagonia in 1519. However, in addition to having access to these accounts, I had the incredibly good fortune to stumble by chance on an account of the life of Elcano written by the scribe Andrés de Urdaneta, whose record of the death of Elcano and of his last will and testament can be found in the Archivo. For centuries, this document was previously unknown until I found it miscatalogued as an account of the life of Urdaneta.

In fact, at the age of 17, Urdaneta accompanied Elcano as his personal servant on his second voyage to the Maluku islands (Moluccas or Spice islands in present day Indonesia). He wrote down the last will and testament dictated by Elcano in 1526 as he lay dying, and until my discovery, this was believed to be one of the few surviving documents relating to the life of Elcano.

However, my discovery opens up new avenues for historians to explore regarding the life of Elcano.

This is my translation from medieval Spanish to English, and my interpretation of that document which I have spent the last two years preparing for publication. For the benefit of my readers, I have taken the liberty of converting weights and distances from those used in the original to their modern equivalent. Therefore, although the use of kilos would not exist until after the French Revolution, it makes sense to use them to describe weights. However, I have not converted terms used for money as the value of monetary units does not remain constant, so any conversion I might make could soon be out of date. In addition, although Italy did not exist as a country at the time covered by this narrative, I have used the term to signify the territory now known as Italy.

The following is the translation of the introduction of the original document.

My name is Andrés de Urdaneta, and I swear on the Holy Bible, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and all the saints that this account of the life of the captain and navigator, Juan Sebastián Elcano, is a true account and record of the words he dictated to me during our voyage to the Maluku islands between 1525 and 1526.

Chapter 1

I was born in Getaria, a fishing village in Gipuzkoa, in 1487. Gipuzkoa is a province situated between Bizkaia and France on the Bay of Biscay in Euskal Herria or the Basque country (pais vasco) as it is known to outsiders. My parents were Domingo Sebastián de Elcano and Catalina del Puerto, and I was the fourth of the eight children they had. In addition, my father had a daughter out of wedlock. My native tongue is Euskara (Basque), but from an early age I learned to speak and understand Castilian as that was the language of the Kingdom of Castile which ruled my homeland. As well as Euskara and Castilian, by the time I was 20, I was able to communicate in Portuguese and I spoke Italian well and even some Arabic because of the voyages I was involved in as a young man.

My father was a wealthy man who made his fortune from trading and shipping. In fact, he was noted as the thirteenth highest taxpayer in Getaria in 1500. However, that was also the year that he died and left my mother, Catalina, to raise the children.

My early childhood was unremarkable, but, unlike many of my friends, because my father had money, I had been sent to school where I learned to read, write, and to communicate in Castilian. I also learned to read Latin. Then at the age of 13, my education at school ended abruptly after my father died as there was not enough money to pay the school fees of myself and my younger siblings. However, that was when my education as a mariner began. My father had owned a ship of 200 tons that he used for trading in the Mediterranean Sea, but neither my brothers nor I were old enough or with enough experience to take charge of her. Therefore, it was decided that we should all be apprenticed to master mariners in order to learn about the ways of the sea with the ultimate aim of taking charge of my father’s ship and carrying on the business of trading in the Mediterranean.

Although I was relatively young, I was strong, so my mother arranged with the captain of one of the ships that my father had often dealt with to take me as an apprentice and to teach me about the marine life. As Getaria is a fishing and trading port, it was normal for young boys to become mariners. Indeed, my three younger brothers, Martín Pérez, Antón Martín and Ochoa Martín, also followed my example and became skilled mariners. They are present on this expedition to the Maluku islands.

The captain who agreed to take me as his apprentice was a man of about 50 years of age. He was a typical Basque in both speech and appearance. His language was laced with curses and foul language in his native Euskara and Castilian, and he had the typical Basque facial feature of a large, hooked nose and square jaw. His name was Juan and because of his temperament no one dared ask for his family name, so he was known as Juan de Hondarribia because he was originally from the town of Hondarribia, situated on the river Bidasoa which forms the border between France and Spain. But now he was based in Getaria, and his ship was a fishing vessel of about 10 tons weight called the Santa Maria. This type of vessel was built especially for fishing in the waters of the North Sea where there were exceptionally good fishing grounds because fishing in the Bay of Biscay was becoming harder as the catches were smaller with every passing year. The older fishermen often talked about how they were able to return home with holds full of fish after only 2 or 3 days away from port. When I joined the crew of the Santa Maria at the age of 13 as a general helper, it had become necessary to seek fish much further north. Fortunately, we had heard of a fishing ground to the north and west which some called the Grand Banks.

The first European to sail to the Grand Banks and return with the news that the fish were so abundant there that they could be scooped from the water in baskets was Giovanni Caboto whose voyage in 1497 was financed by King Henry VII of England. Although Caboto was from Venice, he was financed by the English who called him John Cabot and gave him resources to try to find a sea route from England to China known as the North-West Passage. The voyage of Columbus in 1492 that discovered the existence of a New World had alerted the English to the possibility of finding new trade routes. However, the agreement between Spain and Portugal to control the seas meant that England was unable to benefit from the newly discovered lands, so King Henry was advised that it should be possible to reach China by sailing north. However, because of the sea ice that blocked the way, Cabot failed to find this route that would have allowed England to trade directly with China without having to depend on trading with intermediaries in the Ottoman Empire or sailing around the coasts of Africa until reaching India, but he reported the existence of large quantities of fish in the Grand Banks, which started a rush to the area in search of fish. The area he described was rich in all kinds of fish, but especially in a large fish called bacalao or cod in English. This fishing ground was where boats from my homeland, from Portugal, from Baiona in Galicia, from Bretonia in the land of the French, and from England all spent weeks and usually months fishing for bacalao which we dried, salted and packed in barrels in order to preserve it.

 However, the weather in the North Sea was often very rough and storms were frequent in winter, so only the bravest or, as some said, the most foolish or most desperate spent the winter attempting to catch fish in that area. Many fishing boats left their home ports, but never returned, and the families of the crew were left to manage their lives in whatever way they could. Nevertheless, the catches of bacalao made many men rich, so merchants were willing to finance expeditions in search of bacalao.

Juan de Hondarribia had experience of how hard the winters could be in the North Sea, so in that season he did not risk fishing in the Grand Banks. Instead, the main use of the Santa Maria was to sail to Bordeaux in the land of the French and take on board an untaxed strong liquor called eau de vie in the French language. This was similar to the liquor made in the Rio Oja area in the Kingdom of Navarre from the grapes that they grow there, but the eau de vie was highly valued by rich people in my town. This liquor was probably not better than what was produced in Rio Oja, but because it came from the Kingdom of the French, it appealed to the vanity of people who wanted to let everyone know how rich they were.

So, my apprenticeship gave me experience of fishing in far distant seas and also of trading. I learned quickly and by the age of 15 I had graduated from general helper and was already an experienced mariner and fisherman. This promotion to mariner meant that I earned more than when I first joined the crew of the Santa Maria, so I was able to give my mother money to support her and my brothers and sisters at the end of each voyage.

In 1502, when I was 15 years old, and already an experienced sailor, we spent the summer months from the beginning of the season in April fishing and catching bacalao using our baited fishing lines in the Grand Banks. On arrival at the place of fishing within sight of the shore, the carpenter demonstrated his value by constructing a wooden platform fixed firmly over the ocean on the starboard side of the ship. Then he anchored several half-hogshead sized barrels with double bottoms to the platform. These were our stations from which we caught cod.

Then the ship was anchored and held in position with the barrels on the side of the ship facing away from the prevailing wind, so that the fishing lines would not become entangled under the hull of the ship. Depending on the strength of the wind, the ship might be turned so that the fishing took place from the sheltered side of the boat. Finally, the crew were divided into three groups. The three groups rotated tasks daily so that the arduous work was shared equally by all including the captain, the pilot, the carpenter and the boatswain or ship’s mate. Even the cook had to take a turn on one of the teams, apart from the actual task of catching the fish.

The fishing lasted from dawn to dusk. Those men assigned to catch the fish were dressed in a leather covering that protected them from neck to knees, so that water falling from the cod they caught, or the sea spray would not penetrate their clothes. They climbed into their allotted barrels and stayed there hour after hour enduring the cold and only leaving their posts to snatch a quick meal when the captain relieved them from their work himself.

The fish were caught using tarred lines about 80 fathoms long (160 metres). These lines were weighted by a lead of about 5 kilos. At the end of the line, a finer line was attached, and the hooks were attached to this finer line. The hooks were baited with small fish, or the heads or innards of cod they had already caught. As cod are predators and eat other fish, it was not difficult to entice them onto the hooks by moving the lines around in the water. After more than one cod was hooked, the line was hauled up and the fishermen killed them by piercing the back of their necks with a spike. Then their stomach was opened if the fisherman needed more bait. Finally, the tongue was cut out and the fish was thrown into a communal bin on the deck. The tongues were considered a delicacy, and they were salted for sale ashore, but more importantly, they served as a means of counting how many fish each man had caught that day. At the end of the day, the captain made a record of each man’s catch which would determine his pay at the end of the voyage.

On deck there was a strong bench with a two-man team who cut off the heads of the cod, which was later used to make stew for the meals of the crew or as bait, and split the cod to remove their entrails and backbone which were thrown overboard to attract more cod to the ship. The cod were washed in a bucket of sea water to remove blood and were then thrown into the hold where another crew member rubbed salt into them and then piled them up with a layer of salt between them.

The work of baiting the lines with small fish and hauling the tarred lines aboard when we felt they had caught fish was hard. Our hands were cut and scarred by the lines that were heavy with fish since each cod could weigh at least 12 kilos, and a good catch was a line with 5 or 6 fish, meaning we had to haul in anything up to 70 kilos. Naturally, our hands got cut from pulling on the heavy lines, and the salt from the water made them sting the first few times, but after so many years of fishing like this, my hands were toughened, and I hardly felt any pain each time I hauled a line into the ship.

This year the weather was good, and the seas were mainly calm, so we continued fishing in August past the time when we would normally have begun our voyage home. Perhaps the captain was becoming old, or he was thinking of the extra money that he would earn when he sold his catch, but whatever his reason, we were still fishing as the light was fading one day in late September when we were suddenly caught in a fierce storm that seemed to spring from nowhere without warning.

The winds were stronger than any I had ever experienced, and the waves crashing over the deck of our vessel made me fear that I was destined to become yet another lost mariner whose family would never know what had happened. The sails were furled already as we had been fishing, so we had no way to escape the fury of the winds and waves that battered our vessel. Instead, the only way that the captain could try to escape was to turn the prow of the vessel towards the nearby shore and hope that the wind would blow us towards some safe haven.

We were a crew of 12 including the captain, a pilot or navigator, a boatswain or second-in-command, and a carpenter and cook. However, all hands were expected to work at the jobs required to catch and preserve the fish when we reached our desired fishing grounds at the Grand Banks. We were 8 from the port of Getaria, 1 from Portugal, 1 from Baiona and 1 from Vigo, both of these towns are in Galicia in the North-West of Spain, and 1 from Bermeo in Gipuzkoa. We sailors from Gipuzkoa spoke Euskara, also called the Basque language by others, to each other, and the men from Portugal and Galicia could understand each other because their languages were similar, but they could not understand Euskara, so the common language that we used was Castilian. However, as the wind and the waves battered our vessel, we all prayed in our native languages to Jesus, the Virgin Maria and Saint Cristobal to save us while we drifted helplessly, fearing that we would be driven onto rocks and drowned. Our prayers were answered, however. Although we were driven ashore, instead of being dashed on the many jagged rocks close to the land, our vessel was flung onto a sandy beach and was firmly anchored by the sand, and thereby preserved from being sunk by the storm, although it suffered damage to the hull.

 We had all clung desperately to whatever rope or spar we could grasp as the storm battered our vessel, and although we were no longer in mortal danger, we were reluctant to release our hold in case the storm intensified.

However, after a few hours the wind dropped, the fury of the storm abated and, as daylight broke, we were able to look around and assess the situation.

I saw that we were in a small cove with low hills surrounding it. There was no sign of human habitation, although there were many small trees and plants growing nearby.

We were all wet, cold and exhausted after our ordeal, but we somehow managed to agree on what we should do next. The captain took charge and split us into 3 groups. He, the carpenter, the boatswain and the 2 most experienced crew from Getaria had the task of examining the damage done to the vessel by the storm; the remaining 2 from Getaria with the men from Baiona and Bermeo were ordered to look for driftwood to start a fire so that we could dry our clothes which were soaked by the waves and rain; and I went with the men from Portugal and Vigo to see if there was any sign of life beyond the hills.

As this was my third year of working on this vessel, I had already become familiar with working with men who spoke different languages. Although the captain was a Basque from Hondarribia and the majority of the crew were Basques from Getaria, and the man from Bermeo was also Basque, we often had mariners who spoke Portuguese or Galego or Castilian and even sometimes men who spoke Arabic. Those were Moors who had decided to convert to Christianity in 1492 after the Catholic Kings, Ferdinand and Isabella, gave the Moors and the Jews the choice of leaving their homes and going into exile or converting to the true faith. They were known as Mozarabs, and often the people of their native lands did not want to work with them because they did not believe that they had truly converted to Christianity, so many of them came north to find work on the many fishing fleets which were always eager to employ new mariners. With such a mixed group, the common language we used was Castilian because the men who spoke Portuguese or Galego and the Mozarabs could all understand this language, and the Basque language was so different that only the people who had been born in Euskal Herria could understand it. However, when two people with the same language spoke privately, they used their native tongue. I had a good ear for languages and that is why I was able to understand Portuguese (and Galego is similar to Portuguese) and also some Arabic.

We split into our assigned groups and went to carry out our tasks. The low hills surrounding the cove were not steep, but our wet clothes made the climb difficult, and the rain from the storm had turned the sides of the hills muddy, so we slipped and slid as we painfully and slowly climbed upward, hauling our tired bodies up by grasping at clumps of wet grass. However, finally we reached the top, and we could see that there was a thick forest of small trees nearby. Cautiously, we made our way to the trees, while listening for any strange sound and keeping our eyes open in case there were people hiding in the trees. But we saw and heard no one apart from the sounds of birds calling from the forest, so we ventured a little way into the trees. It was late summer and, apart from the storm we had survived, the weather had been fine, so the ground underfoot was mostly dry. This meant that the branches that had broken off from the trees during the storm were also dry. So, by mutual consent, the three of us started to pick up dry branches to take back to the beach because we were sure that any wood that might be found there would be wet or at least damp.

With arms full of dry wood, we made our way back to the beach and reported what we had seen – basically nothing strange to report. However, the wood we had brought back was welcomed by the rest of the group, and it did not take long for a fire to be started using flint and steel to make a spark to ignite some small, dried leaves and twigs as kindling. Then using some larger branches, we constructed a few drying racks, and we all stripped off our wet outerwear and boots, remaining only in our long linen or woollen shirts which covered our bodies to our knees. We had all lived together for so long on such a small fishing boat that the concept of modesty no longer existed. It is difficult to be modest when basic bodily functions such as pissing or shitting have to be performed over the side of the boat in full view of the rest of the crew.

As we stood around the blazing fire, warming ourselves and trying to dry our shirts, the captain reported on the damage to our boat. The main information that could be gathered from his stream of foul language was that the hull had been holed in three places and the boat was in no fit state to take to sea again without major repairs. In addition, one of the two masts had been weakened and should be replaced if we hoped ever to return to Getaria. The good news was that many of the barrels of salted bacalao and also a number of the iron cooking pots and other implements we used to prepare our food onboard had survived, so we would have food to be able to sustain us for several weeks to come. In addition, the carpenter’s tools had been found, so we would be able to repair the ship when we were able to obtain seasoned wood from the forest.

 

Chapter 2

The day passed quickly as we were all busy with our various tasks. We had to collect more dry wood to keep the fire alive, as without fire we would not be able to cook or to keep ourselves warm. We also had to salvage as much as possible from the ship, dry our clothes, and decide how we were going to repair the ship. Finally, we had to look for water to drink. With all that, it was a long day, and when night fell, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible on the sand above the high-water mark, and fell asleep, exhausted, but lulled by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

The light of dawn, the calling of seabirds, and the chill in the air of late September soon had us awake and starting to come to terms with the fact that we might not be able to return to our homes until the next year. This was the opinion of our captain, and with solemn faces, we all had to agree with him that even if we were able to repair the ship quickly, the weather would probably be too stormy for us to make the crossing home safely. We were all experienced sailors, so we knew how dangerous the seas between the Grand Banks and the north coast of our homeland could be at that time of year.

In other words, we would be forced to spend the winter in this new and uncharted land.

Before we could become too despondent, the captain called us all together and told us what he had decided we needed to do.

The first task was to make the ship secure, so that even if the waves from the winter storms were strong and high, our ship would be safe from further damage because without the ship, we would have no hope of ever being able to return home. So, we needed to move the ship further up the beach and past the high-water mark. To complete this, we would have to put logs under the keel to act as rollers and then push and pull the ship into its final resting place. Luckily, the beach was flat where we had been driven ashore, so that would make the task much easier.

We all donned our clothes that we had left to dry overnight. Some were still wet, but we were accustomed to wearing wet clothes when we were fishing. Next, we searched among the carpenter’s tools that had been removed from the ship the day before to find any tool we could use to cut trees. Finally, leaving the beach, we walked as a group towards where the trees that had supplied us with our firewood lay.

As we approached the trees, what we could not help but be amazed at was the blaze of red, gold, yellow and brown of the leaves about to fall from the branches as the trees prepared to hibernate for the coming winter. In some way, this display of nature lifted our spirits and made us thankful to have survived the shipwreck. To me it felt as if God was sending us a message that all would be well, and that we would return safely to our families.

Entering the wood, the captain quickly found the trees that he felt would make good rollers to help us to move our ship. These he marked with his knife by slashing the bark. Then he instructed the four men who were armed with two axes, a saw and some sharp knives that we used to gut and clean the cod we caught before salting them to start chopping down the trees he had marked. He then instructed the rest of us to search for a sheltered clearing where we would be able to make a camp because the beach was not a suitable place to make a permanent place to survive the winter. The place we had to look for needed to be near a source of water and also already clear of trees as we could not afford to spend a lot of time going in search of water every day, and we did not have the resources to make a clearing by chopping down trees and pulling up the tree stumps.

These requirements made the task difficult because we found a few clearings, but there was no water nearby. However, finally, after searching for more than an hour, we came across a small stream that had a flat area of grass on one of its banks. The stream was shallow, but with some deeper pools, so we knew that we would not be in danger of flooding and that it should be possible to construct fish traps as well as have a plentiful supply of water for cooking and drinking.

Carefully marking our trail by slashing the bark of some trees, we returned to where the sound of the axes, the saw and the knives let us know that our compatriots were making good progress on the first steps of making our ship safe.

When we arrived at the site of the tree felling, we could see that they had already managed to cut down six medium sized trees and lopped off all the branches, so now we had the first logs that should help us to move our ship out of danger from any high tide or storm surge. Under the guidance of the captain, my group spent an hour or more dragging the tree trunks to the beach. By the time we returned, the logging group had already felled and trimmed another two trees, so these were also dragged to the shore.

The captain had instructed us all to return to the shore and to begin the work of using the logs as rollers to move the ship. The work was time consuming, but the sand was hard packed by the waves that had brought us to shore, so it was possible to excavate enough sand to insert the logs under the ship. The logs were first wrapped in seaweed to make them slippery, which we hoped would make the task of moving the ship easier.

Finally, we had the rollers in place and then the hard work of moving the ship began. Fortunately, the ship had a broad beam, so it was mainly flat on the bottom. That made the task of pushing it from the stern and pulling it with ropes attached to the prow without it toppling over possible. Possible, but difficult, although the wet seaweed helped to make the work succeed.

The job was made easier by first unloading everything that was not part of the ship. So, all barrels of fish, all fishing gear, all personal belongings, and all loose items were carefully removed and stored safely at some distance from where we were working.

At last, after several hours of pushing, pulling, adding more seaweed, and moving the rollers, the ship was safe from any possibility of being swept out to sea by the tide.

By then, it was growing dark, and we were all exhausted, so the only thought we had was to sleep and try to recover our strength. So, for the second night, we slept on the beach, and luckily the weather stayed fair although the night was chilly.

In the morning, we were woken again by the chill and the sound of birds. By now, we had been on land for 2 days and we had been involved in very strenuous work without much rest or food. Therefore, our first priority was to find something to eat because although we had several barrels of cod, it was salted and needed to be steeped in fresh water before it could be cooked and eaten.

We split into three groups and began scouring the beach for shellfish and any small crabs that we could cook. It took about an hour before we were able to gather enough shellfish and crabs, which, along with some brown and green seaweed, and a few pieces of salt cod, were boiled in seawater over an open fire in one of the iron pots that we normally cooked our food in on the ship. The result was a salty soup that we devoured using the few wooden bowls and spoons that had survived the shipwreck. In normal times none of us would have even considered tasting it, but that morning we all agreed that the soup that filled our stomachs could have been served at a king’s banquet. More importantly, it gave us strength to face the new day.

That day and the next two weeks passed quickly as near the stream we began to construct a simple cabin of logs which we chinked with mud to keep out the cold winds that we were sure would soon sweep in from the sea or the land. The floor of the cabin was earth which we tamped down hard, then upright logs were sunk in pairs into the ground, with other logs slotted between them to make walls. The roof was more difficult to make, but we managed to construct a sloping roof that was supported by central pillars and beams and double covered by smaller branches, and finally covered with sod we dug when we made the floor to help the rain to run off and keep the cabin dry. We did not make any opening for a window, but we left one entrance where we managed to fashion a crude door with leather hinges that we could cover on the inside with a sail from the ship to protect us from the chill winds of winter during the night. Although we were fishermen and sailors, we had a carpenter as a crew member, and we also worked on repairing our ships when necessary, so the carpentry skills needed to construct the cabin existed in the group. What we did not make was a fireplace and chimney because we did not have the right materials to make cement to bind stones together. However, we made a rough cooking area by laying some flat stones to make a raised square at one end of the cabin. That meant that we would try to cook outside when possible and put up with the smoke from an indoor fire when it wasn’t possible to cook outside. Finally, when the cabin had been made as weatherproof as possible, we moved all our belongings from the beach and began the long wait until Spring when we hoped to be able to repair the ship and set sail once more for home.

The cabin was small, but there was enough room for all 12 of us to sleep. We did not have beds, instead we gathered grasses that we dried and also leaves that the trees had shed as winter approached. These formed our communal bed. In the daytime, we were busy catching fish in the traps we constructed by interweaving small branches which we placed in the stream, gathering berries and roots from the forest, cutting wood to be dried for firewood, and generally trying to build up stores to help us survive the coming winter. Unfortunately, we did not have any firearms with us to shoot larger animals that we often saw as they came to the opposite bank of the stream to drink. We had tried to think of some way to trap them but failed to devise any method that had a possibility of succeeding. So, we were reduced to making fish traps in the stream, setting snares for rabbits without much success, scouring the beach for shellfish and crabs, digging for edible roots, and stripping the trees and bushes of berries, nuts and fruit. In addition, under the guidance of the carpenter, we cut and split trees that we hoped to use to repair the hull of the ship, as well as felling a tree that would be used to replace the mast that had been damaged in the storm. These supplies of wood had to be seasoned in order to serve to repair the ship, so they were carefully stored in the hull of the ship so that they were protected from the weather as they dried.

The weeks passed and the weather became colder, with frost on the ground most nights and mornings. However, there were no more storms, and the days were sunny although the daylight hours shortened with each week. Our group stayed outside the cabin as often as possible because the space indoors was just big enough for us all to sleep, cook and eat as we had done on the ship, and being outside allowed us to feel less confined in our cramped living quarters.

One thing that had puzzled us was that we had not seen any sign of other people in our vicinity. That changed one day about 2 months after we were shipwrecked. We had tried to keep track of time, by scratching a mark on the cabin wall and by observing the days becoming shorter, so it must have been late November when we found that we were not alone in that land.

It was probably the smoke from our fire that we kept burning constantly that attracted the attention of the people who lived in that area. The first time we knew we were not alone was when the Portuguese, who was called Joao, went outside to piss early one morning. He came back into the cabin and very excitedly showed us the two fat birds that he had found tied together and hanging from a tree branch near the cabin door.

 

Chapter 3

Although we liked the idea of varying our diet with the meat from the birds, we were also apprehensive about who had left them there, and whether they were meant for us as a sign of peace or whether they were hung there to prevent them from being eaten by wild animals with the idea to collect them later. In the end, desire for the taste of food that wasn’t fish from the stream, shellfish and crabs from the beach, or salt cod from our stores settled the argument. The birds’ feathers were quickly plucked, the birds were gutted and washed clean and then cut into pieces to be added to the cooking pot. There was not enough meat to make a meal for each man, but the addition of the meat to our normal breakfast made it taste like a dish fit for a king.

After we had eaten, we returned to the discussion about who might have left the birds near our cabin. It was obvious that we were not alone in this strange land in spite of not having seen any signs of other people until that day. We agreed that we would have to be especially vigilant in future, and that none of us should venture from the cabin alone. Although it appeared that the birds had probably been left as a gift and a sign of peace, until we actually met whoever had left them, we could not know for certain that the person or people were not hostile.

The rest of the day passed quietly, as we went about our daily tasks of fetching water from the stream, constructing fish traps, chopping wood for the fire, and scanning our surroundings for signs of other people. That day we saw nothing, but the next day was different.

Again, in the morning as we emerged from the cabin, we found four of the same dead birds with their feet bound together with vines hanging from a nearby tree branch. It appeared that our visitors were as cautious about our intentions as we were about theirs. If we were going to make face-to-face contact, we knew that we had to reciprocate the gifts that had been left for us. We had little to offer apart from salt cod and fish from the stream that we had smoked to preserve for the cold weather of the long winter that we feared would arrive soon.

Although we had more salt cod than smoked fish, it was soon agreed that offering salt cod might not be the most appropriate offering to present to our invisible benefactors because they might not know how to soak it in fresh water to remove the salt in order to make the fish palatable when cooked. Therefore, smoked fish was the present that we decided should be our offering, along with a pottery cup with a handle which was filled with some of the salt from our store. The fish and the cup were hung from the same branch where the birds had been left for us, and we retreated to the cabin to await the outcome of our presentation.

By the time the sun had set, and darkness descended on the land, we had not seen any sign of anyone, and our peace offerings remained suspended from the tree branch where we had hung them earlier.

However, by morning the branch was bare, and the smoked fish and the pottery cup had been removed.

It was about noon on that same day that we finally saw the first inhabitant of this land. There were three men standing at the edge of the clearing where we had constructed our cabin. They were dressed in animal skins and had long hair that was braided on both sides of their head and decorated with shells and feathers. I was the first of our group to catch sight of them as I came from the stream carrying a bucket of water. As soon as I saw them, I stopped and carefully put my bucket on the ground. Then I raised both hands in the air with the palms turned towards them to show them that I did not have any weapons and that I was not going to try to harm them.

I hoped that they understood the message I was trying to convey to them, and that they would also not try to harm me because I saw that they were carrying spears, and each man seemed to have a bow slung from a shoulder.

One of the men took a few steps forward and raised his right hand returning the gesture I had made. That made me feel relieved that I was not about to be killed, so I also took a few steps in the direction of the trio.

The man who had raised his hand began to walk steadily towards me while his two companions gripped their spears, obviously ready to react to any hostile movement from me. Naturally, I was not about to give them any reason to launch their spears in my direction.

As the man approached me, I observed that he had unnaturally coloured skin, and that the skins covering his upper body were the pelts from several animals that had been sewn together, and which were wrapped around his body and tied with a belt. His lower body was naked apart from a small animal skin that covered his manhood. On his feet, he wore shoes fashioned from some type of soft leather.

However, the most striking feature about him was the reddish colour of his skin. On closer examination, it was evident that this hue was the result of the application of a red ochre earth mixed with grease. His face was hairless and rounded in shape, with a flattened nose.

When he was a few paces distant from me, he stopped, and we both examined each other closely. I saw that both his spear and his arrows were tipped with bone or stone, and that he had a stone knife tucked into the belt that held his cloak in place around his body. I learned later that he was most intrigued by the fact that my clothes covered the whole of my body and that a wispy beard sprouted from my chin, although at the age of 15 I had not yet grown a full beard.

At length, putting his right hand on his chest, he spoke. “Beothuk” was what he repeated several times. I understood that he was telling me his name, so I replied in similar fashion “Juan.”

Later, I discovered that he had been telling me the name of his tribe or people and not his own name. However, contact had been made, and we had exchanged some information about each other in spite of not really understanding what had been said.

Seemingly satisfied with our first verbal exchange, the man placed his spear on the ground, and sat cross-legged on the ground and indicated that I should do the same. When I had done so, he began to speak at length. I listened intently, but I could not understand any word that he spoke. Finally, he paused, and I began to explain to him who we were and how we had come to be living in our small cabin. He did not indicate that he had understood what I had said in Euskara, so I repeated my information in Castilian, then in Galego and Portuguese, and finally in Arabic. However, he gave no indication of understanding any of these languages.

We were not left alone for long as another man left the cabin to check on the progress of the food that had been prepared earlier and that was cooking for our midday meal. On seeing me and the stranger sitting facing each other, he returned to the cabin and immediately reappeared accompanied by the captain and one other man.

The captain spoke to the others to reassure them that what they were seeing did not present any danger to our group. Later, he explained that when he saw that the stranger and I were sitting on the ground it was obvious to him that this was a sign of a peaceful encounter, as it would have been almost impossible for either of us to successfully attack and overcome the other.

Motioning to the men with him, the captain slowly and carefully approached me and the stranger. He held his hands up with the palms facing towards the stranger to show that he was not carrying any weapons. Finally, when he reached where we were sitting, he slowly lowered himself to the ground beside me.

Again, the stranger went through the same ritual of placing his right hand on his chest and saying “Beothuk” several times. The captain replied in the same fashion with his name “Juan.” Naturally, this reinforced the mistaken idea that our group was a tribe called ‘Juan’ since the captain and I shared the same name, and that the stranger’s name was ‘Beothuk.’

Soon, ‘Beothuk’ signalled to his two companions who had remained vigilant at the edge of the tree line and indicated that they should join us. They also placed their spears on the ground and sat cross-legged beside their companion. At this, our captain, Juan de Hondarribia, indicated that the two men who had remained near the cabin should join us.

Now we were four from our group facing three from the strangers, but in a very short time the remainder of our group returned to the cabin from carrying out their daily tasks. One by one, they joined our group sitting on the ground which caused the three strangers to peer closely at each man in turn as if trying to decide if we were all really human in spite of our strange clothes and bearded faces.

At last, they seemed to be satisfied, and our captain instructed the cook and two other men to fetch some food to share with the strangers. At first, they were reluctant to accept the bowls of fish stew that were presented to them, but after they had seen that we also ate the same food, they began to dip their hands into the hot liquid to search for some pieces of fish.

As we all used wooden spoons to eat our food, we were surprised at how the strangers could bear to immerse their hands into the hot food without flinching or showing any signs of pain. Even when they were given spoons, they did not seem to have any idea of what to do with them, but after seeing how we used the spoons to scoop up fish and liquid together, they soon began to imitate us and clumsily undertook the task of eating in our fashion.

When the meal was finished, we all smiled at each other, and then our guests rose to their feet together as if at some invisible signal. Having picked up their spears, they turned in the direction of the trees but waited before entering the wood. The first man, who we assumed was their leader, turned towards our group, and pointing to me, indicated that I should accompany them.

Naturally, I was reluctant to leave the safety of my friends and of our cabin, but the captain told me that I should go with them, and that I should not fear as they seemed to be a peaceful people especially as they had twice presented us with birds to eat, and we had just finished a meal together.

So, hesitantly, I left my companions and walked to where the trio was waiting for me. When I joined them, they entered the wood, and I followed. They walked in single file through the trees, following some paths that had been made by animals coming to the stream to drink. They walked at a brisk pace, without hesitation, in a direction that was clearly familiar to them. I had to hurry to keep pace with them for fear of dropping behind and becoming lost in this unknown country, although as the first man I had met turned back to check that I was following from time to time, I knew that they would not leave me alone at the mercy of whatever wild animals lived in this forest.

We had walked for less than a league (3 miles or almost 5 kilometres) when we suddenly came on what was obviously their camp near a river. There were a number of conical tents made of animal skins clustered around a central space where there was an open fire burning brightly. Some women and young girls tended the fire, and I could see that meat was being roasted on skewers of wood. Children and dogs ran around chasing each other, and the children seemed to be almost naked in spite of the cold weather, and certainly they were without shoes on their feet. There were no signs of animals such as cows or horses apart from the dogs, and it appeared that this was a temporary camp, as there were no buildings or anything more substantial like our log cabin.

As our small band approached the camp, several older men rose to their feet from where they had been sitting outside the largest tent. They were all dressed in the same fashion as the three men I had followed through the woods, and their faces were also stained red with clay. I could see that they had weapons nearby, but these all appeared to be tipped with bone or stone instead of iron. I later learned that these people had no knowledge of iron or other metal but depended on bone and stone to make spear and arrow heads.

I suddenly became acutely aware that I was alone and helpless as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me. The group of older men now approached me and spent time examining me intensely before turning to the men who had brought me there and breaking into speech probably asking questions about me and where I had come from. As they examined my garments with interest, their voices continued to let me know that they had never seen anyone dressed in a shirt, legs covered by stockings up to the knees, a skirt that reached from the waist to the knees, a sleeveless tunic with holes for arms that reached the hip, and over all a cloak open at the front. Perhaps they found the wool and linen that my garments were made from to be even stranger than the clothes themselves as it was apparent that both men and women dressed in a similar fashion with the top part of their bodies covered by a cloak of animal skin, leaving their legs bare. They did not appear to have any garments made from other materials, so they obviously had no concept of making clothes from anything apart from the pelts of animals. The few hairs on my chin also seemed to interest them as the men stroked and tugged at them as if expecting them to detach themselves from my face.

Yet again, I could not understand anything that they said, but at length the older men appeared to be satisfied with examining my clothes and with the answers that they received from my guide because they returned to sit outside the large tent. Following this, the leader of the trio who had brought me to this camp took my arm and led me to the fire where there was meat cooking on wooden skewers.

My mouth began to salivate at the smell of the cooking meat and my stomach indicated that it was desperate to eat something apart from fish. My guide and I sat facing each other again, and a girl passed each of us one of the skewers of meat. She smiled at me as she handed me the skewer. I had no idea what animal had supplied the meat that I was given, but that was the furthest thought from my mind as I tore at it with my teeth.

The meat was tender and juicy, with streaks of fat larded through it. The result was that my mouth was overloaded with the almost forgotten sensation of how meat tasted. In a matter of seconds, I had wolfed down the four chunks of meat that had been speared by the slender branch. The man and the group of women who seemed to be in charge of cooking the meat for everyone all burst out laughing at the sight of my evident hunger for meat, and the same young girl quickly offered me another skewer which I accepted with thanks. This time, I ate it less quickly and took my time to savour the juicy lumps of meat.

When we had finished eating, we rose, and my guide began to point and say individual words. I soon realized that he was trying to teach me some of their language. As I have always had a facility for learning languages, I was able to begin to understand some words. The word for arrow was ashooging and for spear it was amina.

But the one word that I learned easily because it was repeated many times was hewhine which meant knife.

The reason I heard that word so often was because as we walked around the camp, we stopped where a girl was cutting meat. She had spread an animal skin on the ground and had laid a side of meat from some large animal on it. It appeared to be from one of the many deer that we had often seen coming to the stream to drink, but that we had been unable to devise a way to trap or kill.

Whatever animal the girl was trying to cut into smaller pieces was not important. As she knelt on the ground, she grasped the side of meat with one hand and hacked at it with a knife held in the other hand. The meat was slippery, and the knife was made of stone, so the task of cutting such a large piece of meat into something more suitable to be cooked over the open fire was not easy.

The knife was also not very sharp because the stone was not flint, so she was struggling to cut the meat into smaller pieces. When I saw that this was the girl who had given me the meat at the fire, and who had smiled at me, I wanted to make her task easier. Without thinking that my gesture might be misconstrued, I took the small knife that I always carried in a loop of my belt and, extending it to her by holding the blade, indicated that she should take it.

At first, she seemed reluctant to accept the knife, possibly because of how the handle and blade were made from different materials, but when my guide spoke to her, she reached up and took the knife from my hand. She examined the blade carefully and ran her thumb along it as if to test its sharpness. She soon discovered how sharp it was when she nicked her thumb a little. However, the blood on her thumb did not deter her from her job of cutting the meat, as she returned to her work with this new tool.

With the new sharp steel blade, she was soon able to cut the meat into smaller pieces in about 10 minutes. With her original knife, she might have spent at least 90 minutes doing the same job. As she was cutting, she and my guide spoke to each other excitedly. Clearly, such a sharp blade was something they had never seen before.

When she had finished cutting the meat, she handed the knife to him. He examined it closely and tested its sharpness for himself. That is when he repeated the word hewhine many times as he pointed at the knife.

From his reaction, and from what I had seen of their weapons, steel was unknown to them. However, in my home country, the towns of Bilbao and Toledo were famous for their knives and swords made of steel, so we did not think that a steel knife was anything extraordinary. But for these people, it was as strange as if a fish had spoken to them.

The discovery of this new type of knife soon became known to the whole village as my guide took the knife to show it to the village elders who had resumed their position outside the largest tent. After they had inspected the knife and tested it for sharpness, it was reluctantly returned to me. While I valued this knife in our present situation shipwrecked far from home, I also knew that our group could benefit if I presented this knife to the tribe.

The decision was made easier when I realized that we might be given more meat in exchange for the knife. So, when the knife was once more in my possession, I turned to the group of village elders, and holding the knife in both hands, I offered it to them. The meaning of my gesture was clear, and the offer was quickly accepted and the knife returned to their possession once again to be carefully examined by each of the village elders before being passed around for all to examine it and to test the sharpness of the blade and finally taken inside the tent for safekeeping.

Chapter 4

Making a gift of that small, commonplace knife was the act that sealed the friendship between our two groups. The knife was a normal tool for me, but for them it was like a gift from heaven. However, there was one fear that I could not remove from my mind. That was that these people might discover the other tools, and the cooking vessels made of iron, and feel that they could take them from us by force. However, I need not have worried as the elders gave some commands and meat, both dried and fresh, was loaded into a basket woven from small tree branches and laid at my feet. I was relieved to see that these people valued the knife so much that they were willing to share their supply of food with us.

By now, the sun was low in the sky as the days were shorter at that time of year, so I felt that it would not be wise for me to attempt to return to our cabin in the dark when I was not familiar with the land. I could easily lose my way or fall into a hole or even be attacked by some wild animal, so I decided to ask if I could spend the night in their camp and return to my companions in the morning when I could see clearly.

Of course, I was not able to converse with them, but by using sign language, I was able to make them understand that I wanted to sleep among them for the night. When the elders understood what I wanted, they spoke to the man who I believed was named Beothuk and he led me to a tent. Lifting the flap, he indicated that I should enter and when I did, he followed me inside.

The shape of the tent was conical as I had noted earlier. Now, I was able to see that the animal skins were draped over long poles that were positioned around the bottom of the structure and leaned at an angle so that they met and supported each other at the top. In the centre of the tent there was a small fire burning in a hearth fashioned from a rough circle of stones. The smoke from the fire escaped through an opening at the top of the tent, so the air was less smoky than that in our cabin which did not have any means of letting smoke escape apart from opening the door if the smoke became too much to bear. To one side of the fire, there was a supply of dried branches to replenish the fire if necessary. There was also a heap of animal skins and Beothuk motioned for me to lie on them. It appeared that this would be my bed for the night. Apart from the fire, the wood, and the skins, the tent was empty of any other articles.

I had eaten well, and now I had a soft bed for the night. This was going to be the most luxurious and comfortable night that I would spend for many years. In fact, the night was made more special later.

First, when Beothuk had left, I exited the tent and looked for a place to piss. I had already seen that these people had no shame about pissing in public, but I was not sure how they would react if I did the same. So, I stepped behind the tent to conceal myself from view as much as possible. There, I was able to piss without drawing attention to what I was doing.

Then I re-entered the tent, and, after adding some dried wood to the fire, I went to examine the pile of skins. I discovered that they seemed to be from the same animal as the clothing and tents were made. When I sat on the pile of skins, I discovered that they were very soft – much softer than anything I had slept on in the past two years since my father had died and I had been forced to leave the comfort of my childhood home and begin to learn to be a sailor and fisherman.

With a sigh of contentment, I took off my boots and then lifted two of the skins from the top of the pile. Using them to cover myself like blankets, I stretched out on my new, comfortable bed. The warmth of the fire and the heat generated by my body soon had me almost asleep. Almost, but not quite, as the noise of the flap entrance to the tent being raised and let drop quickly had me awake and again fearful that someone was about to do me harm.

However, I soon realized that I did not have to be afraid of being murdered in my sleep. By the light cast by the fire, I saw that my nocturnal visitor was the young girl who had smiled at me and to whom I had lent my knife. I raised myself on one elbow as she approached my bed and watched in surprise as she lifted the skins that covered me and slipped into bed beside me.

I started to ask her what she was doing, but then I realized that she and I did not have any language in common, so I stopped talking and turned my attention to her body. She was short in stature, with a rounded face and a flattened nose. Her black hair was long, but it was braided and oiled, so it remained clear of her face which was also daubed with the red ochre that seemed to be traditional for both men and women. She was dressed in the typical clothes of animal skins that I had seen both men and women wearing.

Besides the strange colour of her face, I noticed her smell. It was a mix of woodsmoke from the cooking fire, congealed blood from the meat she had been cutting, and the animal skins she was wearing. But that first impression soon became less important as her body pressed against mine urgently, and her hand reached between my legs. I was 15, so in an instant I was aroused. I was not a virgin, but I had not been with a female for more than six months since we set sail from Getaria, so her hand on my male member swiftly had it straining against the cloth of the short skirt that covered my manhood.

We both fumbled with our clothing until I was able to turn to face her and she guided my member into her warm and slippery sheath. Our congress did not last long as I was unable to control myself and I deposited my seed deep inside her after only a few minutes of thrusting. I rolled off her soft body thinking that I would soon be able to resume our coupling, but she took me by surprise by leaving the warmth of the bed and, without a backward glance, exiting the tent.

I was confused but also contented and I soon allowed sleep to overtake me.

The sound of people going about their daily tasks woke me when it was barely daylight. The skins that covered me were warm and I was reluctant to leave the most comfortable bed I had slept in for many years, especially as the fire had gone out since I had not tended it, and I could feel a chill in the air. However, I knew that I had to face the task of leaving my hosts and carrying the basket of meat back to my companions who would probably be wondering whether I was still alive.

After pulling on my boots, I lifted the flap of the tent and looked outside at the early morning bustle of activity of people starting their daily routines. When I exited the tent, I looked for the young girl who had so willingly shared my bed and her body, but there was no sign of her. Instead, my guide from the night before, Beothuk, saw me yawning and stretching in the frosty air of the dawn. Smiling, he came to me and gripped my arm in greeting. Then he offered me some dried meat to eat. It was clear that I had been accepted as a trusted friend of their tribe.

Half an hour later I was on my way back to our cabin with the basket of meat strapped to my back. I also had a bundle of animal skins carried on my shoulder. These had been a gift from the tribe’s elders. My impulsive gesture of donating my knife to the tribe was being rewarded many times over it seemed.

The walk back to the cabin went smoothly as I was accompanied by Beothuk. There was mist rising from the frost on the ground as the sun began to warm up the earth. The light filtering through the trees that had mainly lost their leaves cast shadows on the trail we followed.

The atmosphere, the sounds of the birds in the forest, the light and shade on the path, the bundles that I carried, but most of all the recollection of what had happened the night before made me feel glad to be alive and to forget for some time that I was far from home with no assurance that I would ever see it or my family again.

And how my companions greeted me assured me that they were also glad that I had not only survived but also had returned with gifts that would make our lives easier.

The meat was taken away by the cooks, and the animal skins were examined, rubbed, felt, sniffed, and generally tested by all of my companions. At last, we would be able to stay warm if the weather became colder.

Beothuk left us silently and was soon lost from sight among the trees.

Then my friends began to bombard me with questions about what had happened after I had left them the previous day. As quickly as I could, I explained what had occurred in the camp, and how I had traded a small knife for the food and skins I had returned with.

Of course, I did not tell them about my night visitor and what we had done. That was not their concern, and besides I was the youngest crew member, so I knew they would tease me endlessly if I told what had occurred.

The subject of the natives and their treatment of me led to a discussion about the weapons and tools that they used. We were all surprised that they did not appear to have any experience of steel or iron but relied on stone to tip their arrows and spears and also to use as tools for cutting meat. At the same time, we admired their ingenuity and skill in using these rudimentary stone tools to kill and skin the large animals that we had often seen coming to the stream to drink.