The fact that the Omaguas had been able to defeat a Spanish company in open battle gave that tribe a great reputation. So strong in numbers and in bravery, it was naturally supposed that they must also have metallic wealth, though no evidence of that had been seen.

Driven from its home, the myth of the Gilded Man had become a wandering ghost. Its original form had been lost sight of, and from the Dorado had gradually been changed to a golden tribe. It had become a confusion and combination of the Dorado and Meta, following the curious but characteristic course of myths. First, a remarkable fact; then the story of a fact that had ceased to be; then a far-off echo of that story, entirely robbed of the fundamental facts; and at last a general tangle and jumble of fact, story, and echo into a new and almost unrecognizable myth.

This vagabond and changeling myth figured prominently in 1550 in the province of Peru. In that year several hundred Indians from the middle course of the Amazon--that is, from about the heart of northern Brazil--took refuge in the eastern Spanish settlements in Peru. They had been driven from their homes by the hostility of neighbor tribes, and had reached Peru only after several years of toilsome wanderings.

They gave exaggerated accounts of the wealth and importance of the Omaguas, and these tales were eagerly credited. Still, Peru was now in no condition to undertake any new conquest, and it was not till ten years after the arrival of these Indian refugees that any step was taken in the matter. The first viceroy of Peru, the great and good Antonio de Mendoza, who had been promoted from the vice-royalty of Mexico to this higher dignity, saw in this report the chance for a stroke of wisdom. He had cleared Mexico of a few hundred restless fellows who were a great menace to good government, by sending them off to chase the golden phantom of the Quivira--that remarkable expedition of Coronado which was so important to the history of the United States. He now found in his new province a similar but much worse danger; and it was to rid Peru of its unruly and dangerous characters that Mendoza set on foot the famous expedition of Pedro de Ursua. It was the most numerous body of men ever a.s.sembled for such a purpose in Spanish America in the sixteenth century, but was composed of the worst and most desperate elements that the Spanish colonies ever contained. Ursua's force was concentrated on the banks of the upper Amazon; July 1, 1560, the first brigantine floated down the great river. The main body followed in other brigantines on the 26th of September.

The country was one vast tropical forest, absolutely deserted. It soon became apparent that their golden expectations could never be realized, and discontent began to play a b.l.o.o.d.y role. The throng of desperadoes by whose practical banishment the wise viceroy had purified Peru, could not be expected to get along well together. No longer scattered among good citizens who could restrain them, but in condensed rascality, they soon began to suggest the fable of the Kilkenny cats. Their voyage was an orgie entirely indescribable.

Among these scoundrels was one of peculiar character,--a physically deformed but very ambitious fellow, who had every reason not to wish to return to Peru. This was Lope de Aguirre. Seeing that the object of the expedition must absolutely fail, he began to form a nefarious plot. If they could not get gold in the way they had hoped, why not in another way? In short, he conceived the audacious plan of turning traitor to Spain and everything else, and founding a new empire. To achieve this he felt it necessary to remove the leaders of the expedition, who might have scruples against betraying their country. So, as the wretched brigantines floated down the great river, they became the stage of a series of atrocious tragedies. First, the commander Ursua was a.s.sa.s.sinated, and in his place was put a young but dissolute n.o.bleman, Fernando de Guzman. He was at once elevated to the dignity of a prince,--the first open step toward high treason.

Then Guzman was murdered, and also the infamous Ynez de Atienza, a woman who bore a shameful part in the affair; and the misshapen Aguirre became leader and "tyrant." His treason was now undisguised, and he commanded the expedition thenceforth not as a Spanish officer, but as a rebel and a pirate. As he steered toward the Atlantic, it was with plans of appalling magnitude and daring. He intended to sail to the Gulf of Mexico, land on the Isthmus, seize Panama, and thence sail to Peru, where he would kill off all who opposed him, and establish an empire of his own!

But a curious accident brought his plans to nought. Instead of reaching the mouth of the Amazon, the flotilla drifted to the left, in that wonderfully tangled river, and got into the Rio Negro. The sluggish currents prevented their discovering their mistake, and they worked ahead into the Ca.s.siquiare, and thence into the Orinoco. On the 1st of July, 1561 (a year to a day had been pa.s.sed in navigating the labyrinth, and the days had been marked with murder right and left), the desperadoes reached the Atlantic Ocean; but through the mouth of the Orinoco, and not, as they had expected, through the Amazon. Seventeen days later they sighted the island of Margarita, where there was a Spanish post. By treachery they seized the island, and then proclaimed their independence of Spain.

This step gave Aguirre money and some ammunition, but he still lacked vessels for a voyage by sea. He tried to seize a large vessel which was conveying the provincial Monticinos, a Dominican missionary, to Venezuela; but his treachery was frustrated, and the alarm was given on the mainland. Infuriated by his failure, the little monster butchered the royal officers of Margarita. His plan to reach Panama was balked; but he succeeded at last in capturing a smaller vessel, by means of which he landed on the coast of Venezuela in August, 1561. His career on the mainland was one of crime and rapine. The people, taken by surprise, and unable to make immediate resistance to the outlaw, fled at his approach. The authorities sent as far as New Granada in their appeals for help; and all northern South America was terrorized.

Aguirre proceeded without opposition as far as Barquecimeto. He found that place deserted; but very soon there arrived the maestro de campo, (Colonel) Diego de Paredes, with a hastily collected loyal force. At the same time Quesada, the conqueror of New Granada, was hastening against the traitor with what force he could muster. Aguirre found himself blockaded in Barquecimeto, and his followers began to desert. Finally, left almost alone, Aguirre slew his daughter (who had shared all those awful wanderings) and surrendered himself. The Spanish commander did not wish to execute the arch-traitor; but Aguirre's own followers insisted upon his death, and secured it.

There were many subsequent attempts to discover the Gilded Man; but they were of little importance, except the one undertaken by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1595. He got only as far as the Salto Coroni,--that is, failed to achieve anything like as great a feat as even Ordaz,--but returned to England with glowing accounts of a great inland lake and rich nations. He had mixed up the legend of the Dorado with reports of the Incas of Peru,--which proves that the Spanish were not the only people to swallow fables. Indeed, the English and other explorers were fully as credulous and fully as anxious to get to the fabled gold.

The myth of the great lake, the lake of Parime,[18] gradually absorbed the myth of the Gilded Man. The historic tradition became merged and lost in the geographic fable. Only in the eastern forests of Peru did the Dorado re-appear in the beginning of the last century, but as a distorted and groundless tale. But Lake Parime remained on the maps and in geographical descriptions. It is a curious coincidence that where the golden tribes of Meta were once believed to exist, the gold fields of Guiana (now a bone of contention between England and Venezuela) have recently been discovered. It is certain that Meta was only a myth, but even the myth was useful.

The fable of the lake of Parime--long believed in as a great lake with whole ranges of mountains of silver behind it--was fully exploded by Humboldt in the beginning of the present century. He showed that there was neither a great lake nor were there mountains of silver. The broad savannas of the Orinoco, when overflowed in the rainy season, had been taken for a lake, and the silver background was simply the shimmer of the sunlight on peaks of micaceous rock.

With Humboldt finally perished the most remarkable fairy tale in history. No other myth or legend in either North or South America ever exercised such a powerful influence on the course of geographical discovery; none ever called out such surpa.s.sing human endeavor, and none so well ill.u.s.trated the matchless tenacity of purpose and the self-sacrifice inherent in the Spanish character. It is a new lesson to most of us, but a true and proved one, that this southern nation, more impulsive and impetuous than those of the north, was also more patient and more enduring.

The myth died, but it had not existed in vain. Before it had been disproved, it had brought about the exploration of the Amazon, the Orinoco, all Brazil north of the Amazon, all Venezuela, all New Granada, and eastern Ecuador. If we look at the map a moment, we shall see what this means,--that the Gilded Man gave to the world the geography of all South America above the equator.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] p.r.o.nounced Wow-pess.

[18] p.r.o.nounced Pah-_ree_-may.

III.

THE GREATEST CONQUEST.

PIZARRO AND PERU.

I.

THE SWINEHERD OF TRUXILLO.

Somewhere between the years 1471 and 1478, (we are not sure of the exact date), an unfortunate boy was born in the city of Truxillo,[19] province of Estremadura, Spain. He was an illegitimate son of Colonel Gonzalo Pizarro,[20] who had won distinction in the wars in Italy and Navarre.

But his parentage was no help to him. The disgraced baby never had a home,--it is even said that he was left as a foundling at the door of a church. He grew up to young manhood in ignorance and abject poverty, without schools or care or helping hands, thrown entirely upon his own resources to keep from starving. Only the most menial occupations were open to him; but he seems to have done his best with them. How the neighbor-boys would have laughed and hooted if one had said to them: "That dirty, ragged youngster who drives his pigs through the oak-groves of Estremadura will one day be the greatest man in a new world which no one has yet seen, and will be a more famous soldier than our Great Captain,[21] and will divide more gold than the king has!" And we could not have blamed them for their sneers. The wisest man in Europe then would have believed as little as they such a wild prophecy; for truly it was the most improbable thing in the world.

But the boy who could herd swine faithfully when there was no better work to do, could turn his hand to greater things when greater offered, and do them as well. Luckily the New World came just in time for him. If it had not been for Columbus, he might have lived and died a swineherd, and history would have lost one of its most gallant figures, as well as many more of those to whom the adventurous Genoese opened the door of fame. To thousands of men as undivined by themselves as by others, there was then nothing to see in life but abject obscurity in crowded, ignorant, poverty-stricken Europe. When Spain suddenly found the new land beyond the seas, it caused such a wakening of mankind as was never before nor ever has been since. There was, almost literally, a new world; and it made almost a new people. Not merely the brilliant and the great profited by this wonderful change; there was none so poor and ignorant that he might not now spring up to the full stature of the man that was in him. It was, indeed, the greatest beginning of human liberty, the first opening of the door of equality, the first seed of free nations like our own. The Old World was the field of the rich and favored; but America was already what it is so proud to be to-day,--the poor man's chance. And it is a very striking fact that nearly all who made great names in America were not of those who came great, but of the obscure men who won here the admiration of a world which had never heard of them before. Of all these and of all others, Pizarro was the greatest pioneer. The rise of Napoleon himself was not a more startling triumph of will and genius over every obstacle, nor as creditable morally.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ATAHUALPA'S HOUSE, CAXAMARCA.

_See page 260._]

We do not know the year in which Francisco Pizarro, the swineherd of Truxillo, reached America; but his first importance here began in 1510.

In that year he was already in the island of Espanola, and accompanied Ojeda[22] on the disastrous expedition to Uraba on the mainland. Here he showed himself so brave and prudent that Ojeda left him in charge of the ill-fated colony of San Sebastian, while he himself should return to Espanola for help. This first honorable responsibility which fell to Pizarro was full of danger and suffering; but he was equal to the emergency, and in him began to grow that rare and patient heroism which was later to bear him up through the most dreadful years that ever conqueror had. For two months he waited in that deadly spot, until so many had died that the survivors could at last crowd into their one boat.

Then Pizarro joined Balboa, and shared that frightful march across the Isthmus and that brilliant honor of the discovery of the Pacific. When Balboa's gallant career came to a sudden and b.l.o.o.d.y ending, Pizarro was thrown upon the hands of Pedro Arias Davila, who sent him on several minor expeditions. In 1515 he crossed the Isthmus again, and probably heard vaguely of Peru. But he had neither money nor influence to launch out for himself. He accompanied Governor Davila when that official moved to Panama, and won respect in several small expeditions. But at fifty years of age he was still a poor man and an unknown one,--an humble _ranchero_ near Panama. On that pestilent and wild Isthmus there had been very little chance to make up for the disadvantages of his youth.

He had not learned to read or write,--indeed, he never did learn. But it is evident that he had learned some more important lessons, and had developed a manhood equal to any call the future might make upon it.

In 1522, Pascual de Andagoya made a short voyage from Panama down the Pacific coast, but got no farther than Balboa had gone years before. His failure, however, called new attention to the unknown countries to the south; and Pizarro burned to explore them. The mind of the man who had been a swineherd was the only one that grasped the importance of what awaited discovery,--his courage, the only courage ready to face the obstacles that lay between. At last, he found two men ready to listen to his plans and to help him. These were Diego de Almagro[23] and Hernando de Luque.[24] Almagro was a soldier of fortune, a foundling like Pizarro, but better educated and somewhat older. He was a brave man physically; but he lacked the high moral courage as well as the moral power of Pizarro. He was in every way a lower grade of man,--more what would have been expected from their common birth than was that phenomenal character which was as much at home in courts and conquest as it had been in herding beasts. Not only could Pizarro accommodate himself to any range of fortune, but he was as unspoiled by power as by poverty. He was a man of principle; a man of his word; inflexible, heroic, yet prudent and humane, generous and just, and forever loyal,--in all of which qualities Almagro fell far below him.

De Luque was a priest, vicar at Panama. He was a wise and good man, to whom the two soldiers were greatly indebted. They had nothing but strong arms and big courage for the expedition; and he had to furnish the means. This he did with money he secured from the licentiate Espinosa, a lawyer. The consent of the governor was necessary, as in all Spanish provinces; and though Governor Davila did not seem to approve of the expedition, his permission was secured by promising him a share of the profits, while he was not called upon for any of the expenses. Pizarro was given command, and sailed in November, 1524, with one hundred men.

Almagro was to follow as soon as possible, hoping to recruit more men in the little colony.

After coasting a short distance to the south, Pizarro effected a landing. It was an inhospitable spot. The explorers found themselves in a vast, tropical swamp, where progress was made almost impossible by the mora.s.ses and by the dense growth. The miasma of the marsh brooded everywhere, an intangible but merciless foe. Clouds of venomous insects hung upon them. To think of flies as a danger to life is strange to those who know only the temperate zones; but in some parts of the tropics the insects are more dreadful than wolves. From the swamps the exhausted Spaniards struggled through to a range of hills, whose sharp rocks (lava, very likely) cut their feet to the bone. And there was nothing to cheer them; all was the same hopeless wilderness. They toiled back to their rude brigantine, fainting under the tropic heat, and re-embarked. Taking on wood and water, they pursued their course south.

Then came savage storms, which lasted ten days. Hurled about on the waves, their crazy little vessel barely missed falling asunder. Water ran short; and as for food, they had to live on two ears of corn apiece daily. As soon as the weather would permit they put to a landing, but found themselves again in a trackless and impenetrable forest. These strange, vast forests of the tropics (forests as big as the whole of Europe) are Nature's most forbidding side; the pathless sea and the desert plains are not so lonely or so deadly. Gigantic trees, sometimes much more than a hundred feet in circ.u.mference, grow thick and tall, their bases buried in eternal gloom, their giant columns interwoven with mighty vines, so that it is no longer a forest but a wall. Every step must be won by the axe. Huge and hideous snakes and great saurians are there; and in the hot, damp air lurks a foe deadlier than python or alligator or viper,--the tropic pestilence.

The men were no weaklings, but in this dreadful wilderness they soon lost hope. They began to curse Pizarro for leading them only to a miserable death, and clamored to sail back to Panama. But this only served to show the difference between men who were only brave physically and those of moral courage like Pizarro's. He had no thought of giving up; yet as his men were ripe for mutiny, something must be done; and he did a very bright thing,--one of the small first flashes of that genius which danger and extremity finally developed so conspicuously. He cheered his followers even while he was circ.u.mventing their mutiny.

Montenegro, one of the officers, was sent back with the brigantine and half the little army to the Isle of Pearls for supplies. That kept the expedition from being given up. Pizarro and his fifty men could not return to Panama, for they had no boat; and Montenegro and his companions could not well fail to come back with succor. But it was a bitter waiting for relief. For six weeks the starving Spaniards floundered in the swamps, from which they could find no exit. There was no food except the sh.e.l.lfish they picked up and a few berries, some of which proved poisonous and caused tortures to those who ate them.

Pizarro shared the hardships of his men with unselfish gentleness, dividing with the poorest soldier, and toiling like the rest, always with brave words to cheer them up. More than twenty men--nearly half the little force--died under their hardships; and all the survivors lost hope save the stout-hearted commander. When they were almost at the last gasp, a far light gleaming through the forest aroused them; and forcing their way in that direction they came at last to open ground, where was an Indian village whose corn and cocoanuts saved the emaciated Spaniards. These Indians had a few rude gold ornaments, and told of a rich country to the south.

At last Montenegro got back with the vessel and supplies to Puerto de la Hambre, or the Port of Hunger, as the Spaniards named it. He too had suffered greatly from hunger, having been delayed by storms. The reunited force sailed on southward, and presently came to a more open coast. Here was another Indian village. Its people had fled, but the explorers found food and some gold trinkets. They were horrified, however, at discovering that they were among cannibals, for before the fireplaces human legs and arms were roasting. They put to sea in the teeth of a storm sooner than remain in so repulsive a spot. At the headland, which they named Punta Quemada,--the Burnt Cape,--they had to land again, their poor bark being so strained that it was in great danger of going to the bottom. Montenegro was sent inland with a small force to explore, while Pizarro camped at a deserted Indian _rancheria_.

The lieutenant had penetrated but a few miles when he was ambushed by the savages, and three Spaniards were slain. Montenegro's men had not even muskets; but with sword and cross-bow they fought hard, and at last drove off their dusky foes. The Indians, failing there, made a rapid march back to their village, and knowing the paths got there ahead of Montenegro and made a sudden attack. Pizarro led his little company out to meet them, and a fierce but unequal fight began. The Spaniards were at great odds, and their case was desperate. In the first volley of the enemy, Pizarro received _seven wounds_,--a fact which in itself is enough to show you what slight advantage their armor gave the Spaniards over the Indians, while it was a fearful burden in the tropic heats and amid such agile foes. The Spaniards had to give way; and as they retreated, Pizarro slipped and fell. The Indians, readily recognizing that he was the chief, had directed their special efforts to slay him; and now several sprang upon the fallen and bleeding warrior. But Pizarro struggled up and struck down two of them with supreme strength, and fought off the rest till his men could run to his aid. Then Montenegro came up and fell upon the savages from behind, and soon the Spaniards were masters of the field. But it had been dearly bought, and their leader saw plainly that he could not succeed in that savage land with such a weak force. His next step must be to get reinforcements.

He accordingly sailed back to Chicama, and remaining there with most of his men,--again careful not to give them a chance to desert,--sent Nicolas de Ribera, with the gold so far collected and a full account of their doings, to Governor Davila at Panama.

Meanwhile Almagro, after long delays, had sailed with sixty men in the second vessel from Panama to follow Pizarro. He found the "track" by trees Pizarro had marked at various points, according to their agreement. At Punta Quemada he landed, and the Indians gave him a hostile reception. Almagro's blood was hot, and he charged upon them bravely. In the action, an Indian javelin wounded him so severely in the head that after a few days of intense suffering he lost one of his eyes.

But despite this great misfortune he kept on his voyage. It was the one admirable side of the man,--his great brute courage. He could face danger and pain bravely; but in a very few days he proved that the higher courage was lacking. At the river San Juan (St. John) the loneliness and uncertainty were too much for Almagro, and he turned back toward Panama. Fortunately, he learned that his captain was at Chicama, and there joined him. Pizarro had no thought of abandoning the enterprise, and he so impressed Almagro--who only needed to be _led_ to be ready for any daring--that the two solemnly vowed to each other to see the voyage to the end or die like men in trying. Pizarro sent him on to Panama to work for help, and himself stayed to cheer his men in pestilent Chicama.

Governor Davila, at best an unenterprising and unadmirable man, was just now in a particularly bad humor to be asked for help. One of his subordinates in Nicaragua needed punishment, he thought, and his own force was small for the purpose. He bitterly regretted having allowed Pizarro to go off with a hundred men who would be so useful now, and refused either to help the expedition or to permit it to go on. De Luque, whose calling and character made him influential in the little colony, finally persuaded the mean-hearted governor not to interfere with the expedition. Even here Davila showed his nature. As the price of his official consent,--without which the voyage could not go on,--he extorted a payment of a thousand _pesos de oro_, for which he also relinquished all his claims to the profits of the expedition, which he felt sure would amount to little or nothing. A _peso de oro_, or "dollar of gold," had about the intrinsic value of our dollar, but was then really worth far more. In those days of the world gold was far scarcer than now, and therefore had much more purchasing power. The same weight of gold would buy about five times as much then as it will now; so what was called a dollar, and _weighed_ a dollar, was really _worth_ about five dollars. The "hush-money" extorted by Davila was therefore some $5,000.

Fortunately, about this time Davila was superseded by a new governor of Panama, Don Pedro de los Rios, who opposed no further obstacles to the great plan. A new contract was entered into between Pizarro, Almagro, and Luque, dated March 10, 1526. The good vicar had advanced gold bars to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars for the expedition; and was to receive one third of all the profits. But in reality most of this large sum had come from the licentiate Espinosa; and a private contract insured that Luque's share should be turned over to him. Two new vessels, larger and better than the worn-out brigantine which had been built by Balboa, were purchased and filled with provisions. The little army was swelled by recruits to one hundred and sixty men, and even a few horses were secured; and the second expedition was ready.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] p.r.o.nounced Troo-_heel_-yo.

[20] p.r.o.nounced Pee-_sah_-roh.