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February 7 - February 11, 2022
In contrast, if Magellan came across Arabs in the Spanish hemisphere, he was to treat them well and to make treaties with their leaders. Only if they were belligerent could Magellan subject them to punishment, as a warning.
And on a sensitive point, Magellan and Faleiro had to see to it that the crew members had no contact with local women.
The orders also covered minor, but important matters. Sailors, for instance, had permission to write whatever they wished in their letters home; fortunately for future historians of this voyage, there was to be no censorship. Blasphemy, on the other hand, was forbidden aboard ship (Magellan found it impossible to enforce this directive), as were card and dice players.
He ordered a wheel embedded with razors to be constructed; Catherine was bound to its rim, but instead of slicing her to pieces, the wheel shattered, and its splinters and razors injured the onlookers. In despair, the emperor finally ordered Catherine beheaded.
Of all the problems Álvares recounted, the most serious was Ruy Faleiro’s fragile mental state. Since leaving Portugal, and perhaps even before, the brilliant cosmographer had exhibited signs of instability.
The evidence, fragmentary though it is, suggests that Faleiro was suffering from bipolar disorder or some form of extreme depression. Magellan remained silent on the subject of his colleague’s condition, but all around him Spanish officials commented on the danger of taking Faleiro in his unstable condition on a long and trying voyage.
In reality, the architect of Faleiro’s removal was probably Fonseca rather than King Charles. As head of the Casa de Contratación, Fonseca had long been looking for a way to alter the arrangement whereby two Portuguese commanded the expedition, and Faleiro’s illness provided just the excuse he needed.
The removal of Faleiro opened the way for Cartagena, the inspector general, to take his place. From Fonseca’s point of view, the promotion contained a certain numerical logic because the expedition would now have one Spanish and one Portuguese leader, but Magellan did not view matters that way. He considered himself the sole Captain General, and Cartagena simply the inspector general, not a co-admiral.
Although he had no experience at sea, Juan de Cartagena found himself leading one of the largest maritime expeditions mounted by Spain.
Cartagena was considered Fonseca’s nephew, but as everyone realized, that term was a euphemism: In reality, Cartagena was Fonseca’s illegitimate son. Nor was he the only example of this peculiar brand of nepotism.
Not surprisingly, all three captains appointed by Fonseca—Cartagena, Quesada, and Mendoza—despised and looked down on Magellan from the moment they came on board.
No matter what the contract said, Fonseca had managed to stifle Magellan’s authority, and, potentially, his share of the proceeds of the expedition, by appointing his natural son and his close allies to virtually all the important positions in the armada. Collectively, they, and not Magellan, would have the final say over the disposition of the fleet and its finances.
The arrangement made it impossible for Magellan and his captains to make decisions in the best of circumstances, even if they felt goodwill toward one another. And if they lacked mutual trust and respect, which was far more likely to be the case, it set the stage for endless challenges to Magellan’s authority, in other words, for mutiny.
Fonseca launched an investigation in Juan de Aranda’s business arrangements with Magellan and Faleiro; all three were interrogated separately. Under oath, Magellan described the fees Aranda had received for the services he rendered to the explorers, and the signed agreement to distribute a portion of the proceeds to Aranda. On June 15, 1519, Aranda himself went before the Supreme Council of the Indies, and by all accounts acquitted himself well. He had served the interests of the Spanish crown in his dealings with Magellan and Faleiro, and as for his personal stake in the expedition, it was
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During the long months of preparation, Magellan’s five ships were tied up at a dock known as the Puerto de las Muelas, because it was paved with millstones. It was here, at Millstone Dock, that the ships took on all the sailing gear, arms, provisions, and furnishings that they would bring on the voyage.
Magellan approached the task of provisioning with as much attention to detail as he did the outfitting of the ships, and with good reason. The food represented a considerable investment: 1,252,909 maravedís, nearly as much as the cost of the entire fleet, and that figure covered just enough food to see them through the first leg or two of the voyage. It was expected that the sailors would be looking for additional food at almost every port, and in the ocean itself.
Of the food that Magellan took on at Seville, nearly four-fifths consisted of just two items, wine and hardtack. Wine was considered the most important; it was tax free, and an official was required to come aboard and make certain it had not soured or become contaminated.
Hardtack, the other staple of the sailor’s execrable diet, consisted of coarse wheat flour, including the husk, kneaded with hot water (never cold), and cooked twice. The result, a tough, brittle biscuit known as biscocho, was stored for up to a month before it was sold. Inevitably, the hardtack degraded in the humid conditions at sea, and when it became soft, and rotten, and inedible, it was called mazamorra; the sailors boiled the stuff until it turned into a mush known as calandra, said to be so vile that even starving sailors refused it.
Barrels of cheese, almonds in the shell, mustard, and casks of figs were also loaded on board the ships. As unlikely as it sounds, Magellan’s fleet carried fish—sardines, cod, anchovies, and tuna—all of it dried and salted. In expectation of catching fresh fish along their route, the ships’ holds included a generous amount of fishing line and a plentiful supply of hooks.
The officers brought with them a delicacy in the form of preserved quince, carne de membrillo, a jam made from the small, hard, applelike fruit. As the voyage wore on, quince jelly would play a crucial role in the lives of the sailors, and Magellan’s as well.
sugar was scarce. It was administered to sailors who had fallen ill, but not used in food. Honey, far cheaper, served as the universal sweetener.
These provisions made for an unhealthy diet, high in salt, low in protein, and lacking vitamins that sailors needed to protect themselves against the rigors of the sea. Given the inadequacy and volatility of his food supply, it was no surprise that Magellan’s first thought on arriving at ports of call was replenishing his stock, and, along with it, his sailors’ health and morale.
Three of his Spanish pilots demanded to be paid as much as the more experienced Portuguese pilots Magellan had retained, but King Charles refused, reminding them that they had already been richly rewarded with a full year’s pay in advance, free lodgings in Seville, and the prospect of knighthood.
Magellan was suspected of packing the roster with his countrymen, but the reality was that experienced Spanish seamen willing to enlist on the voyage were scarce, and so he was forced to include many foreigners.
The Casa de Contratación decreed that Magellan must limit his entire crew to 235 men, including cabin boys. If he did not obey this constraint, the Casa sternly warned, the resulting “scandal or damage” would be blamed on him, “as it would any person who chooses to disobey a royal command.” When the armada’s roster, bloated with well-connected Spaniards, exceeded...
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Magellan was summoned from his frantic last-minute preparations to testify that he had made every effort to hire Spanish officers and crew members rather than foreigners. He had, in fact, gone to great lengths to comply, and he swelled with pride as he delivered his sworn statement.
Qualified sailors were rare in Seville, and qualified sailors willing to risk their lives on a voyage to the Spice Islands rarer still.
Although he did not say so, few Spanish seamen wanted to sail under a Portuguese captain.
To guarantee this voyage, he had sacrificed his allegiance to his homeland, his partnership with Ruy Faleiro, and a considerable amount of his authority as Captain General, but he had kept his essential mission intact. After twelve months of painstaking preparation, the Armada de Molucca was at last ready to conquer the ocean.
During the ceremony, King Charles’s representative, Sancho Martínez de Leiva, presented Magellan with the royal flag as the Captain General knelt before a representation of the Virgin. This marked the first occasion that Charles had bestowed the royal colors on a non-Castilian.
Nevertheless, Pigafetta decided he had to go along. Although he lacked experience at sea, he did have funds and impeccable papal credentials to recommend him. Accepting a salary of just 1,000 maravedís, he joined the roster as a sobrasaliente, a supernumerary, receiving four months of his modest pay in advance.
Magellan, who left nothing to accident, had an assignment for Pigafetta; the young Italian diplomat was to keep a record of the voyage, not the dry, factual pilot’s log, but a more personal, anecdotal, and free-flowing account in the tradition of other popular travel works of the day;
Making no secret of his ambition to take his place in letters beside them, Pigafetta readily accepted the assignment. His loyalties belonged to Magellan alone, not to Cartagena or to any of the other officers.
From the moment the fleet left Seville, Pigafetta kept a diary of events that gradually evolved from a routine account of life at sea to a shockingly graphic and candid diary that serves as the best record of the voyage.
Of the handful of genuine chronicles of foreign lands available at the time, only Pigafetta’s preserved moments of self-deprecation and humor; only his betrayed the realistic fears, joys, and ambivalence felt by the crew.
Pigafetta was not the only diarist on the voyage. Francisco Albo, Trinidad’s pilot, kept a logbook, and some of the surviving sailors gave extensive interviews and depositions on their return to Spain, or wrote their own accounts from memory. The plethora of firsthand impressions of the voyage, combined with the fantastically detailed Spanish records, make it possible to re-create and understand it from a variety of perspectives,
An important limitation governed all the accounts, varied as they are. They provide only the European perspective on a voyage that affected nations and cultures around the world, often profoundly.
Occasionally, we can glean disturbing hints of the reactions of those whom the armada would visit, and what they thought of the intruders in their black ships, the men who had come from a great distance, men bearing gifts but also guns.
His wife, Beatriz, pregnant with their second child, lived quietly in the city under the protection of her father. She received a monthly stipend, as specified in Magellan’s contract, but she was, in fact, a hostage to the Spanish authorities. If word should reach Seville that Magellan had done anything untoward during the expedition, or exhibited disloyalty to King Charles, she would be the first person the king’s agents would seek out.
In the will, Magellan left thousands of maravedís to various churches and religious orders, all of them in Seville, which he designated as his permanent home in this life and the next:
Magellan made certain that all acknowledged family members and retainers would be well taken care of. He specified that Beatriz’s entire dowry of 600,000 maravedís be returned to her; that his illegitimate son, Cristóvão Rebêlo, whom he called “my page,” receive a legacy of 30,000 maravedís; and that his slave, Enrique, be freed.
Magellan envisioned leaving behind a great empire. He left to Rodrigo, “my legitimate son,” along with any other legitimate male heirs that he might have with Beatriz Barbosa, all the rights and titles King Charles had granted to him for the voyage to the Spice Islands; in other words, these children might grow up to find themselves the rulers of distant lands, administered by Spain, and very wealthy rulers at that.
The will covered every eventuality that might befall a great explorer such as Magellan—except what would actually occur once he set forth from Seville.
Abandoned, the Sabrosa estate fell into disrepair, and another house rose on the site. The stone that once held the Magellan escutcheon met with a special fate: It was covered with excrement.
To reach the Atlantic, the five ships, their colors set, negotiated the sinuous Guadalquivir River, whose hazards immediately tested the pilots’ abilities. Fed by rainwater in winter and melting snows in spring and summer, the Guadalquivir empties into the Gulf of Cádiz. The last forty miles, traversing a seemingly endless stretch of tidal marches known as Las Marismas, presented special perils.
Hidden sandbanks, the hulls of shipwrecks, and shallow areas lurked beneath the river’s turbid waters, and occasionally these obstacles visited disaster on an expedition even before it reached the open sea.
The Guadalquivir derived its very name from the Arabic original, Wadi al-Kabir, meaning “great river,” as the Arab rulers of the region designated it.
A week after leaving Seville, the fleet reached the snug coastal town of Sanlúcar de Barrameda, the final point of departure for the Ocean Sea. “You enter it on the west wind and depart from it on the east wind,” said Pigafetta, repeating the lore he recently learned.
Over the centuries, Sanlúcar de Barrameda had witnessed a succession of conquerors, from Roman to Arab to, most recently, King Alfonso X, who claimed it in 1264. In 1498, Christopher Columbus chose it as the departure point for his third voyage to the New World, and Magellan might have chosen the same port to announce that he planned to build on and outdo Columbus’s accomplishments.