University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE FATE OF DIEGO DE NICUESA.

The overthrow of Enciso was the signal for new commotions
in the colony. Colmenares insisted upon their
recognition of Nicuesa, as they were within his jurisdiction;
but, though this argument had been the pretence for
withholding allegiance from the Bachelor, and for denying
his authority, there was yet a strong party, to whom the
lofty character, generous sentiment, and great skill and valour
of Vasco Nunez, appeared conclusive reasons in favour
of appointing him to the chief command. His own
friends were active in promoting this end; and the fond
predictions of the astrologer, who dwelt learnedly upon the
certain prosperity which dwelt beneath his star—now certainly
rising, more and more bright, from beneath the
clouds which had so long obscured it—added force to those
suggestions which accorded with the common prepossession
in his favour. They succeeded in their purpose, in
spite of the efforts of Colmenares, and appointed Vasco
Nunez, in conjunction with one Zamudio, their chief magistrate.
But when they waited upon the cavalier, who had
kept aloof from their controversies, with the annunciation
of his appointment, to their great surprise they were received
with a positive rejection of the power which they
had thus conferred upon him; nor could all the arguments
and entreaties of his friends dissuade him from a resolution
that seemed no less suicidal than strange. But the cavalier
had good reasons for his rejection of an authority which
had no promise of stability.

“The fruit is not ripe,” he said to the astrologer, in private,
when the other, more warmly than his wont, reproached

him for a decision which denied himself the very
power which he had seemed so long to desire above all
things else.

“The fruit is not ripe. These people know not yet
what they want, and are just in that condition of mental
insobriety, when they would quarrel with any authority,
and obey none long. They need to be schooled by new
dangers and troubles, and nothing but a sheer conviction of
their own incapability—which will come in time—would
bring them to that state of docility, without which, in the
labours I propose, nothing could be done. Were I to accept
this offer which they make me now, I should have
them in rebellion the moment Nicuesa makes his appearance.
His name would be for ever sounded in my ears, as
much as a warning as a model, and no law that I should
enact, calculated to restrain their passions, and make them
subordinate to service, but would make them greedy for
any change, particularly if one was at hand, like Nicuesa,
armed with legal powers, and not less armed with the weapons
of war, and ships filled with artillery. Were I to be
tempted to-day with this green fruit, Micer Codro, it would
stick in my throat, and strangle me before the morrow
were well over. I am not impatient, and the fruit must
ripen.”

With such cool reflections the ambitious cavalier calmly
beheld the people who had proffered him so great a trust,
despatch a deputation in the vessel of Colmenares in search
of the Señor Diego de Nicuesa, inviting him to return with
them, and to assume the government of Darien. As we
have given a brief summary of the fortunes of Ojeda,
though not absolutely essential to our narrative, it may be
only proper to bestow a like notice upon the progress
hitherto of his more accomplished rival; in which it will
be found that, however unlike he may have been in character
to the hapless Ojeda, the fate which attended his adventures
was scarcely more indulgent; and leaves us to the
conviction that mere valour, grace of deportment, or accomplishment
in any of the arts, whether of the court or camp,
are of little avail in the day of peril, without that calm,
overruling, and reflective judgment, which sees, as from an
eminence, far above the passions, the hopes and the fears
which are for ever skirmishing below, and with a prescience,—the
strict result of its own forbearance to take part

in the conflict, but which seems like a divine instinct,—
deliberately chooses its course, by which to avoid all the
dangers of the melée, and reach the haven which yet lies
along the direct route where the strife is carried on. It
was the lack of this divine quality of mind, and not of any
deficiency of valour or of fortitude, that destroyed the seductive
superstructure of hope which Ojeda had raised up, not
less in the imaginations of his followers than of his own;
and a like defeat, it will be seen, had, up to the period of
our story, almost brought the fortunes of Nicuesa to the
same ruinous condition. The reader will no doubt remember
the timely rescue which the courteous cavalier brought
to his rival, and the prompt vengeance taken by the two
warriors in conjunction upon the savages of Carthagena.
Leaving Alonzo de Ojeda after this event, Nicuesa proceeded
on his voyage to the coast of Veragua. The weather
grew stormy; and, apprehensive of the dangers from the
coast, the commander stood out to sea with his squadron,
which was separated in the night by tempests. At the
dawn of day, not one of his companions was in sight.
Fearing that some accident had befallen his brigantines,
commanded by one Lope de Olano, his lieutenant, Nicuesa
stood in for the land, until he came to the mouth of a large
river, which he entered and came to anchor. Here his
evil luck still attended him—his vessel grounded by the
sudden subsiding of the stream, which had been swollen by
freshets, and himself and crew had scarcely left it and
gained the shore, before it went to pieces. Their situation
was almost desperate. Without provisions or arms and
half naked, they found themselves on the shores of a remote
and savage nation. With a heavy heart, dreading the
desertion of his lieutenant, of whom evil things of the same
sort had been already spoken, the hapless cavalier, with
many forebodings, took his way westward along the seashore
in search of the seat of his intended government.
They had been able to save a boat from the wreck of their
vessel, with which four of their number kept beside them
in their weary progress along the coast, the perils, pains,
and privations of which journey were utterly beyond expression,
as they would be found utterly beyond the conception
of the reader.

Many of them were without shoes and almost naked—
their route lay through unbroken forests, interlaced with

thorns and beset with brambles. Sometimes they were
compelled to wade through fen and morass, swim deep
and rapid rivers, and clamber over sharp and rugged rocks.
Their food, gleaned in their progress, consisting of herbs
and roots and shell fish, scarcely pacified hunger, and did
not supply the required strength for their toilsome march.
At length they reached a bay that ran far inland, and were
taken by the boat, in small numbers, to the opposite shore,
which, when they had traversed, to their great consternation,
they discovered to be an island separated from the
main by a great arm of the sea. Their boat with the
mariners had disappeared and they were left to the horrible
dread of utter desertion by those who could have relieved
them, and of final starvation in the desolate island where
they were left. It was in vain that they toiled in the construction
of rafts with which to cross the main. The currents
swept their rafts, one after another to the sea, and
the effort was given up in despair. Meanwhile their only
food consisted of the scant herbs, the meagre product of
the soil, and the supply of shell fish, the precarious tribute
of the surrounding sea. Days and weeks elapsed in this
manner, each day thinning the number of this miserable
company; the survivors were reduced to such debility,
that they could no longer procure the wretched food that
sustained life, but by crawling in search of it on hands and
knees. But relief came to them at last in the shape of one
of the lost brigantines of Lope de Olano. The boat that
put off to their relief contained the four seamen who had
so cruelly deserted them. When the fleet was again
brought together it appeared that each division had its own
equal tale of misery to relate—a tale that no fiction could
well exaggerate, since of seven hundred effective men with
which the armament had sailed from Santo Domingo, four
hundred had already perished. Sailing eastward after
some delay, Nicuesa proceeded to Puerto Bello, a spot to
which he was guided by an old sailor who had made a
voyage with Columbus; but here his men were encountered
by the savages and defeated with considerable
slaughter. This determined Nicuesa to continue his voyage
yet farther, which he did until he reached another port
to which Columbus had given the name of Puerto de Bastimientos,
or Port of Provisions. “Here,” said he, “let
us rest, en el nombre de Dios.” The phrase by the superstitious
sailors was immediately adopted as the name of the
place—a name which to this day it retains. But the good
omen which they had fancied to find in the name thus
given, was soon renounced for others in better accordance
with its real characteristics. The aspect of fortune
remained inflexible and without corresponding change with
that of their habitation. They were beset with Indians, and
obtained no provisions except at the price of blood. Labour
and pain and death seemed their only allotment, and
while his men daily perished around him, the survivors did
little else than invoke imprecations upon the head of their
miserable commander. Famine so rapidly lessened his
discontents, that when he mustered his forces, there were
found, of the once brilliant armament of the noble Hidalgo,
whose strains of syren music had beguiled so many ears
in San Domingo, not one hundred dejected and emaciated
men.

It was in this condition, and on this spot, so full of disheartening
and painful associations, that Nicuesa was
found by the deputation sent with Colmenares from the
colony at Darien. The highest point of misery had been
reached before their arrival, and they could scarce recognise
in the dejected and squalid man before them the once
accomplished cavalier. His followers were reduced to
sixty, and looked like men who had taken their last farewell
not only of hope but life. But the intelligence brought
by Colmenares, and the presence of the deputation from
Darien, was like an exhilarating draught from heaven to
these despairing men. The buoyant spirit of the cavalier
recovered all its elasticity at this grateful intelligence, and
he commanded a banquet for the ambassador from the
stores of the ship, in the indulgences of which he gave
free vent to the joy with which their tidings had inspired
him.

“And you tell me, Señor Albitez,” he said, as he
quaffed his wine, to one of the envoys—“you tell me that
you have already collected gold in quantities—what then
are the sums which you deem to be at this time within the
treasury of the Government.”

The question somewhat confounded the person addressed,
and it was after the fashion of one who would
rather be excused from making any answer at all, that he at
length replied.

“Of any sum within the treasury I can say nothing, for
of this I know nothing; but there are many individuals
whose spoils were great at the sacking of Darien. There
was Valdivia, who had seven anklets of massive gold,
and as many medals, and the Bachelor Enciso, himself—”

“Ha! How! What is this that I hear, Señor Albitez?
Dost thou tell me of the servants of the king presuming to
sack towns within the government of Veragua, and carry
the treasure which they take into their own coffers. This
is a flagrant trespass upon the monopolies of the crown,
and must be looked into. These men must refund what
they have taken, and it will go hard with me, but I shall
punish them severely for this most audacious practice
against all law and authority. Give me to know the
names of these persons, that I may proceed against them
without unnecessary delay.”

The envoys did as they were bidden, but manifested no
little reluctance in doing so. The high tone of Nicuesa,
and the threats which he had so freely uttered, alarmed
them for themselves no less than for the rest, and their
feelings towards him underwent a most singular and rapid
change from the moment that his imprudence had suffered
him to disclose the policy by which he proposed to govern.
He had committed the very error which, more than his
lack of legal right, had unseated the Bachelor Enciso in
his rule, and the envoys were now cautious of all that they
themselves would utter, and as narrowly watchful of the
speech and deportment of Nicuesa. They adopted a sudden
policy the first moment they could compare their views
in secret—hurried their departure for the return to Darien
before Nicuesa—and, when arrived, they did not
soften, in their narrative of the interview with that Cavalier,
any of the harsh threats which he had thrown out, of punishment
against individuals, or the vigorous laws by which
he intended to prevent such abuses of the laws in future.
The people of Darien were confounded as they heard this
intelligence.

“Truly,” said they, “this is calling in King Stork to
devour us. What are we to do?”

The Bachelor Corral—a subtle lawyer who had been the
associate of Albitez in his mission to Nicuesa, answered
the question.

“Do! we must undo what we have done, and that is

an easy matter. You have been simple enough to send
for king stork, but there is no good reason why you should
be so simple as to receive him when he comes. I, for one,
say, set him adrift, and let him go back to `Nombre de
Dios,' en el nombre de Dios.”

The remedy was instantly resolved upon, and when the
unconscious Nicuesa approached his supposed government,
with a spirit which had forgotten all its past sufferings
in the proud prespect which he conceived to lie before
him, what was his surprise to hear himself warned from
the shore, and commanded peremptorily by the public
procurator not to disembark. The cavalier was utterly
confounded.

“What can this mean, my friends? I came here at your
own request.”

“Ay, but we have thought better of the matter, Senor
Diego,” cried a swaggering, noisy fellow, named Benitez,
“and now you may go back. We cannot think of troubling
you to govern for us.”

His words were promptly echoed by the multitude, and
their clamours drowned every attempt which the unhappy
cavalier made to entreat their pity, or to affect their sense
of justice.

“At least,” he cried, in despair, “suffer me to land for
the night, that we may come to a fitting explanation.”

Even this was denied him. Night coming on, he was
obliged to stand out to sea, but he re-appeared with the
morning and renewed his entreaties and arguments. He
was suffered to land, but this indulgence was the result of
a plan among the more active of the conspirators to
get him in their power. No sooner did he set foot on
shore than a troop of them set forward to seize him. Fleet
of foot to a proverb, the unhappy cavalier was compelled
to resort to a most undignified flight, and running along the
shore, closely pursued by the rabble, he soon distanced his
pursuers, and found shelter in the neighbouring woods. It
was at this stage of the affair that Vasco Nunez, who had
been blamed by some who have not done full justice to his
position, for remaining so long quiescent, threw off the
lethargy which seemed to hang about his actions, and interposed
to protect the fugitive. It pained him to the soul
to behold a highbred cavalier subjected to the rude treatment
of such a base rabble, and suddenly throwing himself

upon the path of the pursuit, he seized the most active and
noisy of the crew, the fellow Benitez—already remarked for
the insolence of his reply to Nicuesa the evening before—
and availing himself of a stout stick which was at hand,
he inflicted upon him without a word, a smart and deserved
chastisement. This sudden and summary interposition had
the effect of bringing the rest to a stand; and sternly rebuking
them for the brutality of their conduct, he advanced
to the spot where the fugitive had taken refuge, bade him
come forth, and pledged his own life for his protection.
This gallant conduct was not without its effect upon the
rabble; and, without relaxing in their resolve to admit Nicuesa
to no authority among them, they at least forbore
any farther physical display of hostility. It was now that
the unfortunate Nicuesa put in exercise all of his former
grace and courtesy of manner, and all of his most persuasive
forms of eloquence, in order to produce some change
in the disposition of the multitude. Through the medium
of Vasco Nunez,—for they would not suffer him to approach
them in person, and, indeed, in spite of the countenance of
that cavalier, it might not have been safe for him to have
done so,—he strove to impress upon them the numerous
claims which he had to be their leader. He reminded
them that he had come at their own supplication, that he
was by royal appointment the governor over the country of
which they occupied a portion, and that they were, in fact,
in direct treason in thus opposing his authority. But he
pleaded in vain. They were too strongly impressed with
the imprudent threats which he had uttered to the envoys,
and were too generally obnoxious to punishment by the
vigorous enactments which he had sworn to make, to suffer
them to give ear to any arguments, however sweetly expressed,
and however strong in themselves. They had
toiled too strenuously, and through too great peril, for the
gold which they had won, to be willing, while they had
the power to withhold it, to refund it to any treasurer of
the king. They rejected with noise and uproar the pretensions
which he had not the power to enforce, and when
he threatened them with the royal indignation, they commended
him with bitter jeers to the king and council of
Castile. Finding argument and expostulation vain, the
hopeless cavalier assumed the language of entreaty, and
baffled and driven about by fortune as he had been, and
looking with a sentiment of horror which was ominous, at
the prospect of being compelled to return to Nombre de
Dios, he prayed them that they would suffer him to come
among them as a companion, if not as a commander. This
also was denied by the ruthless rabble.

“Let me be a prisoner among them—let them put me
in irons, Vasco Nunez—plead to them even for this fate—
which would be far preferable in my eyes to the necessity
which would drive me back to the shores which I have
left, the famine and the poisoned arrows which await me
there.”

In this wise did the unfortunate Hidalgo plead for the
meanest boon which it was in their power to grant; and no
art or argument of Vasco Nunez was withheld to persuade
them to the required concession. They received his arguments
with scorn, and answered his prayers by contemptuous
clamours; and the struggle closed with the final expulsion
of the wretched cavalier in a miserable vessel, the
worst in their harbour, which they allotted, and in which,
with a heart bowed down, if not broken by his repeated
misfortunes, he proceeded to sea, attended by only seventeen
followers, chiefly his personal attendants and fast
friends. But the crazy vessel never reached her port. She
steered across the Caribbean sea for the island of Hispaniola,
and was never heard of more. But the grave of her
hapless captain was found many years after upon the shores
of Cuba, which the vessel may have reached or a surviving
boat with the baffled cavalier. A band of wandering Spaniards
found the spot, above which stood a tree, containing
a carved inscription informing them of his fate—