Authors: Don Coldsmith
Follow the Wind (2 page)
There was much
grumbling in the kitchens and stables of the Garcia estate. The newcomer was viewed with suspicion at first, then distrust, and finally scorn and ridicule. The servants quickly recognized Sanchez for the scoundrel that he was. There was much wonder that such a charlatan could so completely sway the usually keen judgment of Don Pedro.
grumbling in the kitchens and stables of the Garcia estate. The newcomer was viewed with suspicion at first, then distrust, and finally scorn and ridicule. The servants quickly recognized Sanchez for the scoundrel that he was. There was much wonder that such a charlatan could so completely sway the usually keen judgment of Don Pedro.
For his part, Sanchez did little to endear himself to the household staff. He was swaggering, demanding, and insolent, strutting in his new finery and assuming the affected mannerisms that he believed belonged to the rich. He was aware that the lowliest of the Garcia servants laughed behind his back and this only made him more arrogant and disagreeable.
He was especially piqued at Don Pedro's attitude. The old man firmly demanded that the household maintain an appearance of respect for the guest. Just as firmly, however, he refused to give Sanchez free rein where money was concerned. He doled out small amounts to the infuriated scoundrel, whose hatred grew daily. Still, Sanchez was determined to swallow his pride in the hope of something bigger.
The two clashed repeatedly over the planning and equipage of the expedition. Sanchez had grandiose ideas as to the size, type, and expenditures appropriate for the venture. He had suggested a battery of at least two small cannons. Don Pedro had no particular aversion to cannons, though he considered them unnecessary. His main objection was that transportation over long distances would be slow and difficult. To his experienced mind, it seemed that cannons would merely impede the progress of the expedition. He well remembered fighting forces in the campaigns in southern France, encumbered by artillery mired in the mud. In the end, he refused to consider such equipment.
Similarly, Sanchez had envisioned a prestigious, heavily armed force of foot soldiers. They would need, he insisted, a platoon of arquebusiers. Here Don Pedro flatly refused to even consider such a thing. The old soldier had no use for such newfangled nonsense. There was something of black magic about the sulfurous-smelling troops with their smoldering matches. Besides, the entire scheme seemed somehow heretical to the old don. He could not have explained why he felt no objection to the burning of gunpowder in a cannon, but felt the same principle almost immoral in a small shoulder arm. A man should, by Christ, be able to fight like a man, not stand back at a safe distance and throw tiny projectiles at his enemies. He flatly forbade such a thing for this expedition.
As a compromise, however, Don Pedro did agree to a squad of crossbowmen. He had seen such units deployed with deadly efficiency against poorly organized foot troops. In addition, a single skilled marksman could use the accurate weapon to incapacitate the enemy by striking down their leaders. The old don suspected that even this was not quite a legitimate and manly device, but it was occasionally practical and useful. And above all, Don Pedro was a practical man.
The main force of men-at-arms would be mounted lancers. Mobile and effective, the platoon of lancers would give the impression of strength as well as offering real protection to the expedition. They would be uniformed, well trained, and mounted on the finest of the great Garcia Andalusians.
Don Pedro had already selected his lieutenant to command
the lancers. He was Ramon Cabeza, son of an old comrade. The young man had distinguished himself at the Academy and showed much promise as a leader.
the lancers. He was Ramon Cabeza, son of an old comrade. The young man had distinguished himself at the Academy and showed much promise as a leader.
To round out the company, there were a number of foot servants. While all the Garcia servants had some training in the use of weapons, their major function would be as baggage carriers.
And there would be much baggage. Don Pedro had studied all the information he could find about New Spain when his son had departed for the area. He had since talked to a number of acquaintances who had taken part in such expeditions. It was not without some background of knowledge that he began plans for this journey.
Previous expeditions had not been able to deal effectively with the savages of the plains. Don Pedro would use an entirely different approach. Where others had relied on coercion, even torture, to gain information, Don Pedro proposed to buy it with gifts. He was not necessarily opposed to force as a method, but it had been demonstrated that with these natives it had been ineffective. Therefore, reasoned the old don, why not try the other method? In his experience, there was little that could not be achieved with either force or bribery. Many situations were eased by the greasing of a palm with silver.
With this in mind, the expedition would carry trade goods. Knives, mirrors, and ornaments of metal should be acceptable, he believed. In addition, there was a small chest with bags of coinâgold and silver to be used for expenses along the route.
Sanchez did little to conceal his contempt for the idea of trading goods as gifts in exchange for information. He would have spent the money involved for more military strength. Repeatedly, Don Pedro stubbornly planted his feet and refused to listen. At least twice, he found it necessary to call the attention of his unsavory guest to the fact that it was, after all, he, Don Pedro, who was the leader and financier of the expedition.
Once this occurred with servants present, embarrassing Sanchez before those he now considered beneath him. This
added to his smoldering resentment and he dreamed of the day when he might exact vengeance. He had not decided what form it might take, but when the time came, he would know.
added to his smoldering resentment and he dreamed of the day when he might exact vengeance. He had not decided what form it might take, but when the time came, he would know.
Meanwhile, as preparations continued, Ramon Cabeza selected and proceeded with the training of his lancers. Don Pedro was pleased with the young man's judgment, both in choice of men and of horses. His troop worked hard, becoming efficient quite rapidly. Cabeza, demonstrating that he was willing to work as hard as his men, earned immediate respect.
The young man viewed the entire project with mixed emotions. The prospect of a command in an expedition to New Spain was most enticing. It would be well financed, well equipped, and under the command of his father's old friend Don Pedro, long respected as a great warrior.
On the other hand, there was an element of doubt as to the purpose of the expedition. He had known Juan Garcia at the Academy, although they had not been close friends. He had been somewhat younger than Garcia. Now he, Ramon, was to be involved in a venture to search for the missing son of Don Pedro. Such a search in the vastness of the unexplored continent was surely a doubtful goal at best. And when there was added the element that the party's guide would be the insufferable Sanchez, the doubt tended to broaden.
After much soul-searching, Ramon finally mentioned his fears to the ancient Garcia family retainer who supervised the stables.
“Pablo, what do you think of this plan to search for the young Garcia?”
The old man looked keenly at his questioner for a long moment, then spread his hands in an exaggerated shrug.
“
Quién sabe?
Don Pedro has often been right.”
Quién sabe?
Don Pedro has often been right.”
There was one slight incident during these weeks of preparation, nipped in the bud by Cabeza. He happened to overhear a couple of his lancers in conversation in the stable after practice. One was chuckling at the futility of the expedition and the other responded with a partly heard remark about the “crazy old man.”
Cabeza, furious, descended on the two like a whirlwind.
“Don Pedro,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “was a great soldier when you still wet your beds at night!”
He dismissed them both, adding a comment for the benefit of a few who overheard.
“If you take a man's silver, you owe him allegiance, not ridicule!”
In the dark shadows of a stall, old Pablo smiled to himself. This young man would be a fitting lieutenant to serve Don Pedro.
BILL OF LADING
One gray mare, 5 yrs., well reined (personal mount of Don Pedro Garcia).
One brown mare, 6 yrs., 4 white feet, white face.
Three gray mares, jennet-bred.
Eleven roan or gray stone-horses.
One black stone-horse, white left rear foot (property of Ramon Cabeza).
Don Pedro Garcia, patron.
Ramon Cabeza, Lt. of lancers.
Sixteen lancers, with arms.
H. Sanchez (who states that he is the guide).
Six crossbowmen, with arms.
Seven men.
Supplies of maize and hay for the crossing.
Six boxes of trade goods.
Two chests of personal effects of Sr. Garcia and party.
Don Pedro, Ramon, and Sanchez stood at dockside and watched as the cargo was lifted or hauled aboard the
Paloma
. The newly fitted galleon, with snowy white sails furled on her masts, appeared most satisfactory for the journey. The horses, along with their grain and hay, had been stowed in the spacious belly of the ship.
Paloma
. The newly fitted galleon, with snowy white sails furled on her masts, appeared most satisfactory for the journey. The horses, along with their grain and hay, had been stowed in the spacious belly of the ship.
There had been a bit of trouble about the horses. The royal decree prohibiting export of horses was still in effect and Oliviera, the Portugee who commanded the vessel, became balky. Cabeza suggested that perhaps they might take only their personal mounts and buy more for the lancer platoon in Santo Domingo.
Ultimately, the prestige and the gold of Don Pedro Garcia paved the way and he was able to present a letter signed by local port authorities to the ship's master. The horses were quickly loaded.
Sailors scampered aloft and the
Paloma
spread her white wings to the sea breeze to begin the journey.
Paloma
spread her white wings to the sea breeze to begin the journey.
During the voyage, Don Pedro became fast friends with the ship's captain. He and the Portugee, an aging seaman and man of the world, recognized each other for contemporaries. Each could respect the other as a professional in a slightly different realm, related indirectly to his own.
There were long talks over the excellent wine carried in the cabin of Oliviera. Don Pedro, at length, confided the exact nature of his mission.
“Ah, my friend, I too had a son.” The old seaman poured more wine and a tear glistened in his eye. “He was lost at sea off Hispaniola on his first voyage.”
They drank to the memory of Oliviera's son and to the hope of finding Garcia's.
“Wait!” the host suddenly exclaimed. “I have something to show you!”
He stepped unsteadily across the cabin and unlocked a lacquered box. Carefully, he drew forth a rolled parchment and spread it on the table. Don Pedro's eyes lighted with interest. It was a map, one of great beauty and detail, executed in full color. Well-drawn sketches of caracels and galleons ornamented the oceans and a whale spouted in the southern sea.
Don Pedro knew something of maps from his long experience in the military and he recognized this as the latest in charts of the Americas. The Latin inscription modestly proclamedâA NEW WORLD, NEW DESCRIPTION.
“You see,” Oliviera was pointing, “this is the new Mercator projection. The map is done by Ortelius. The straight lines are compass courses.”
This was beyond the knowledge of Garcia, but he could see that the upper and lower portions of the map were elongated laterally. He was vaguely aware that global maps were a problem to sea navigation. A problem, representing a picture of something round on a flat surface. Oliviera was obviously impressed with this latest advance and extremely proud of his map. He warmed to the subject, but at last realized he was boring his guest.
“Ah, forgive me, my friend! This is of no matter. Here is what I wished to show you!” He poked a gnarled finger at a spot north of the area marked HISPANA NOVA. “There is where you are going!”
Don Pedro studied the chart for a long time. The ship rocked gently and a timber creaked. In the ship's belly, a horse stamped nervously.
“But, my friend,” Garcia protested, “there is nothing there!”
“Exactly! Little is known of the area to the north.”
Along the coast of the great gulf, as yet unnamed, from the projection labeled LA FLORIDA to that on the southwest called IUCATAN, there were charted the mouths of streams. These streams wandered inland in no particular fashion and stopped.
Suddenly, Garcia understood. The coast had been largely explored by ship. Landmarks were mostly those that could be seen from the sea. Further inland, very little had been charted. There was simply a large white space representing most of the continent, made even larger by the distortion of the new map's technique. Here and there were clusters of mountains, apparently placed at random by the artist, because nothing was known of the area. For the first time, Garcia realized with dread how fully he was dependent on the memory of the untrustworthy Sanchez.
“We will stop at Matanca on the north coast of Cuba,”
Oliviera was saying. “There we take on supplies and water. Then I will put in here,” he pointed to an indentation on the coast of New Spain marked BAIA DE CULATA. “There is a good harbor and you can follow the river northward. I will return to this harbor for you a year from now.”
Oliviera was saying. “There we take on supplies and water. Then I will put in here,” he pointed to an indentation on the coast of New Spain marked BAIA DE CULATA. “There is a good harbor and you can follow the river northward. I will return to this harbor for you a year from now.”
So it was arranged. Garcia made a rough sketch of the area in question, knowing that it would be of practically no use once they left the coast.
The
Paloma
dropped anchor in the deep sheltered bay on the coast of New Spain. Horses were pushed over the side to swim ashore. Supplies and men were rowed ashore in the longboat and kegs of fresh water were returned from the river for use on the ship.
Paloma
dropped anchor in the deep sheltered bay on the coast of New Spain. Horses were pushed over the side to swim ashore. Supplies and men were rowed ashore in the longboat and kegs of fresh water were returned from the river for use on the ship.
Camp was established near the beach, under the whispering palms, and the expedition bedded down for the first night in New Spain. Don Pedro walked alone to the edge of the darkness to gaze northward. He observed the constellation Ursa Major pointing to the Pole Star. Strange, how their appearance seemed the same here in strange foreign skies as in the land of his birth.
And what lay ahead in the vastness of the uncharted land? Would they be able to locate his son? Why, if Juan were still alive, had he not returned to his own people?
The old man listened to the unfamiliar voices of unknown creatures of the night in the dark canebrakes along the river. For the first time, he began to doubt the practicality of his mission. How could they find any trace of a missing individual in a continent so huge as that stretching before him in the starlight? Even the map makers had very little idea of the size or shape beyond the coastal areas.
Then there was Sanchez. Don Pedro knew the man could not be trusted. He had known from the first, but had grasped at the possibility that the little man might be able to guide him to the area where his son Juan had disappeared.
Perhaps he still could. After all, they had come this far. Maybe, just maybe, Sanchez would make good on his boast to guide the expedition. Something about the warm earthy smell of the river calmed the old man and created a feeling of optimism and confidence.
Don Pedro heaved a deep sigh and turned to his blankets. Why should the venture not be successful? He had fought against greater odds and won. The fact that he was alive today was proof.
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