The Sun Virgin
deserted for more than two years in a tropic wilderness of the South.
A strange plague of ulcers swept the little army with extraordinary
severity. Many died and received of their priests burial with the white
sands of the desert as their shrouds.
Pizarro halted at the Gulf of Guayaquil and received a deputation of
chiefs from the Island of Puna off the Bay of Tumbez. They invited him
to their shores and offered safe passage on their _balsas_.
In spite of the warnings of his interpreters Pizarro decided to accept
the invitation. He immediately dispatched all three of the ships back
to Panama with the treasure which he had taken, and a call for recruits.
His little army was embarked on the huge _balsas_ of the islanders
and safely landed. They camped on a good site selected by the chiefs
and every soldier was provided with comfortable quarters. He resolved
to remain till the end of the rainy season when the arrival of
reënforcements would make his descent on Tumbez in ships an easy task.
The _curaca_ of Tumbez no sooner heard of the arrival of the
friendly strangers who had visited their city two years before than
he sent a delegation of armed men and invited the Spaniards to the
mainland. The visitors, on the day of their landing, warned Pizarro of
the treachery of his hosts, having discovered a secret meeting of the
chiefs to organize an insurrection.
The Spaniard acted promptly. He surrounded the meeting, took prisoners
the chiefs and turned them over to the officer from Tumbez. He claimed
supreme authority over the island and its inhabitants, and immediately
put them to death.
The people, enraged by the act, armed themselves and attacked Pizarro
in thousands. The islanders rushed forward in confused masses and were
cut down by Hernando Pizarro at the head of his cavalry.
Francisco Pizarro refused to permit Teresa to expose herself in the
battle.
The sound of muskets did deadly work among the confused charging hosts.
They were thrown into a panic at the first roaring volley; and the wild
charge of Hernando Pizarro’s steel-clad horses completed the rout. The
islanders fled into woods and disappeared.
Four Spaniards had been killed and many wounded, among the wounded
Hernando Pizarro. The natives had been beaten, but remained ugly
enemies. They hung on the edge of the forests, cut off stragglers and
kept the Spanish camp in continuous alarm.
At this crisis Pizarro sighted two vessels from Panama. The ships
brought a new captain, destined to make history. They were commanded by
Hernando de Soto and carried a hundred volunteers with many horses.
The leader decided to embark at once for Tumbez. The interpreters had
informed him that the empire had been divided and exhausted by a bloody
civil war between the two brothers who were rivals for the throne. The
moment was opportune for his invasion. A small army of Spaniards might
accomplish a miracle under such conditions.
On landing at Tumbez, Pizarro was astonished to learn that one of his
_balsas_, which had preceded him, loaded with baggage in charge
of three of his men, had been captured by natives when it touched the
shore. All three of the soldiers had been dragged into the brush and
killed. Another _balsa_, loaded with his own effects, was barely
saved by Hernando Pizarro’s charge of cavalry through the mud of the
beach at low tide. The horses plunged in slime to the saddle girths but
drove the attacking party to cover.
Pizarro was dumfounded at his reception. He had left the place with
mutual expressions of high and friendly regard, promising a speedy
return. It seemed impossible that news of his first attack on a village
in the far north could have reached Tumbez.
He was still further amazed on entering the city to find it a complete
wreck. But four or five private dwellings were left standing. The roof
of the great Temple of the Sun had been burned. Only its walls remained
and the interior had been stripped of all treasure.
The invaders were dismayed. The scene of utter desolation brought to
the bold commander a moment of misgiving. What had happened? If he had
to march through such scenes of ruin, why march at all? Could it be
possible that the monarch of whom he had heard so much was a man of
military genius? The ruins of Tumbez pointed to such a possibility. Yet
the idea seemed preposterous. No ruler of millions could thus begin the
destruction of his possessions to starve an army whose strength he had
not tested. There must be another explanation. He hastened to find it,
and he had need of haste. Tumbez had been the cry of every man on the
way. He had never tired telling of its glories. His men began to throw
sullen looks and laugh in ways that were disturbing.
“God’s light!” he heard a grizzled veteran growl. “And this is the
glory of Peru! This the city of gold and silver, where even the trees
are made of precious metal! Give me a tavern in Panama with a good
drink of liquor. I can doze and dream there with less trouble.”
Pizarro dispatched scouting parties through the surrounding territory
and brought in a few captives. Among his prisoners he luckily found the
_curaca_ of Tumbez.
When arraigned and asked an explanation of the attack on his men, the
governor pleaded ignorance of the occurrence. It could only have been
the folly of desperate stragglers or army deserters acting on their
own initiative. During the civil war Tumbez had been stripped of its
defenders who were serving in the army of Atahualpa, now supreme lord
of all the empire. In their absence the fierce tribes of Puna, who had
lured him to their island to destroy him, had attacked Tumbez and laid
it in ruins.
The Spaniard was not sure of the truth of the explanation. There was
still a chance that the city had been destroyed to prevent its capture
by his men. The violence of his first attack in the north might,
after all, have inspired this method of accomplishing his ruin. The
_curaca_ offered his humble submission and promised the loyalty of
his people.
Pizarro accepted the surrender and determined at once on a new policy.
A people who could destroy a city and withdraw before an invasion were
a force to be reckoned with. His only sane policy in meeting such a
situation was to use strategy. He must advance with care. He must
disarm fear. He must make the natives his friends.
Urged by Teresa, the commander made of the governor the most searching
inquiries as to the fate of Alonso de Molina.
“The reports are contradictory,” the _curaca_ apologized. “Some
say that he died of the plague. Others that he died in battles of the
civil war. Still others claim that he lost his life in a struggle over
a beautiful girl. The truth we know not.”
“He’s lying, Your Excellency,” Teresa muttered.
“Perhaps so, my child,” he soothed. “We’ll yet find the truth, never
fear.”
The news of Molina’s death Teresa did not believe for a moment. Others
were more easily convinced, and the word spread quickly through the
camp. It was an ominous opening of the campaign. The golden city of
their dreams was a blackened ruin, the first three men who touched
shore had been killed, and now the news had come that the gallant
cavalier Alonso de Molina had perished somewhere in the depths of
Peru’s endless jungles.
The leader saw with clear vision that it would be impossible to make
his headquarters at Tumbez. There would be a mutiny. A curse was on the
place. He must move his men for new advances or lose control of them.
He left a small garrison to guard the sick, and boldly began to
reconnoiter the interior. His soldiers were instructed, under penalty
of death, that they should not lift a hand against a native unless
attacked, and in that case, to use every effort to make peace at the
earliest moment. They should neither attack nor rob. He would go always
as a messenger of peace and good will.
Keeping to the coast line with his main division he sent Hernando de
Soto with a troop of his horsemen to explore the edges of the sierras.
His new policy was a success. The natives met his friendly advances in
the kindliest spirit, and the fame of his genial temper spread far and
wide. The people were consumed with curiosity to see the strange beings
of whose prowess they had heard so much. They now welcomed him with
open hospitality. They quartered his troops in their houses or in the
royal post stations and provided them with the best food.
At every stop the invaders issued a proclamation, in the name of the
Holy Vicar of God, and his emperor, Charles V, requiring the obedience
of the people as vassals to his royal master.
As the natives had no idea what he was talking about, they received his
announcements with good humor, and their submission was duly recorded
by the notary.
The invader selected the site of his first settlement in the rich
valley of Tangarala on the banks of a river that opened on the sea.
Here he concentrated all of his forces, built a church, an arsenal,
a storehouse, a courthouse and fortress; and a town government was
organized with a full staff of officials.
When the fortress had been completed and his power established he used
for the first time a clause of his charter which established chattel
slavery. Under the right of _repartimiento_ he allotted to each
colonist a number of the natives needed to assist him in his work. The
land had been staked out before this provision for labor had been made.
Here, Pizarro waited in vain for further reënforcements from Panama and
finally made the bold decision to invade a kingdom of twelve million
people with an active force of less than two hundred men. There were
dangers ahead, and dangers in further delay. His men were growing
restless and the younger blades were ready for mischief if not employed
on bold adventures. He could not afford to wait for more men.
He left fifty to garrison San Miguel. With them remained the royal
treasurer, the inspector of metals, and all the officers of the Crown.
Antonio Navarro was made commander of the fortress.
Pizarro then struck boldly into the heart of the country in the
direction of the reported camp of the Inca. If his army was too small
to fight he still counted on his powers of strategy. He could at least
meet the sovereign and offer his men in the service of the imperial
army.
He had been informed that the Inca was at Caxamalca beyond the first
_cordillera_ of the Andes. He inquired at every stop for news of
Molina.
Five months had passed since the day of his ill-fated landing at
Tumbez and he was still unable to gain an adequate idea of the number
of people in the empire or the positions of the main units of the
native army. From his interpreters he had learned that more than three
hundred thousand men were enrolled in the standing army. This might be
a gross exaggeration, or it might be an underestimate of the truth. The
only way to find out was to march into the camp of the ruler.
Only the bravest of adventurers, the conquerors of the sixteenth
century, could have conceived or dared to execute this move. Pizarro
was a gambler first and last. All he asked was half a chance, and he
played for the highest stakes. Dangers and difficulty spurred him to
the greatest reach of achievement. His faith in the fulfillment of
his mad dream had become, after seven years of toil, struggle and
disappointment, an obsession. His confidence now was supreme. The odds
against him were overwhelming, but the fact only spurred him to greater
daring.
As his little band advanced through the foothills it became entangled
in a jungle almost impenetrable. Shadows steamed with poisonous vapors,
mingled with the perfume of gorgeous flowers. Hundreds of parrots
mocked from the trees. Monkeys chattered and squealed. Snakes slipped