The Historian's Hut Articles: Conquistadors

Showing posts with label Conquistadors. Show all posts

Thursday, March 7, 2019

The Tale of Gonzalo Guerrero, The Conquistador Adopted Into Mayan Society

In March 1517, the expedition of Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba reached the native Yucatan town of Campeche. What happened there was a surreal experience for the Spaniards—only days earlier the conquistadors had suffered thirteen casualties from an ambush, yet at Campeche, the natives peacefully invited the Spaniards to take a tour of the town. Bernal Díaz del Castillo was one of approximately one hundred explorers who walked into the town that day, and he would later write about his experiences in his text, The Conquest of New Spain. According to his account, the priestly leaders of Campeche set up large pyres and then explained through gestures that the Spaniards had safe passage in town until the fires burned out. With the pyres lit, the Conquistadors spent some time admiring the local fashion, architecture and culture before hurrying out of the town as soon as the fires began to die down. After they left, the conquistadors reflected on their experiences in the town and many of them thought they heard the natives use several Spanish words and labels. Bernal Díaz, himself, remembered the locals of Campeche asking if he was “Castilan,” which he thought was a reference to the Spanish region of Castile or the former Castilian kingdom in Spain (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 3). The possible use of the Spanish language by the locals in Campeche was odd, as the expedition of 1517 was the first official Spanish incursion into the Yucatan Peninsula.

In 1519, Hernán Cortés became the leader of a new expedition with eleven ships and over 500 conquistadors. By then, the Spaniards had formulated some theories as to how fragments of the Spanish language had disseminated through the Yucatan. Bernal Díaz del Castillo was once again present on the voyage and he later recorded the thoughts of the Conquistadors. Hernán Cortés was apparently convinced that there were Spaniard captives in the Yucatan Peninsula from whom the natives were learning some Spanish words. It was not a far-fetched assumption—Bernal Díaz had personally seen two of his comrades be captured alive by natives during the earlier expedition of 1517.

The theory of Spanish captives was still on Cortés’ mind when he reached the island of Cozumel, located near the northeastern tip of the Yucatan Peninsula. By that time, the Conquistadors had hired translators, and Cortés specifically tasked his translator to ask the natives of Cozumel about the existence of any Spaniards living in the Yucatan. The population of Cozumel, reportedly an important religious and commercial hub, indeed did know of some captives on the mainland. When he learned of this, Cortés hired some locals and sent them on a mission to the peninsula with beads and other trinkets with which to ransom the captive Spaniards.

After around twelve days had passed, a large canoe appeared at Cozumel. Seven people disembarked from the canoe, and the Conquistadors, after some double-takes and closer inspections, realized that one of the seven new arrivals was Spanish. Bernal Díaz described the man’s state: “He wore a very ragged old cloak, and a tattered loincloth to cover his private parts; and in his cloak was tied an object which proved to be a very old prayer-book” (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 29). Upon reaching the Conquistadors, the man loudly exclaimed in Spanish a prayer to God and “the blessed Mary of Seville,” which convinced Cortés and the explorers that the man was truly a Spaniard.

After giving the man new clothes, Hernán Cortés debriefed him for information. The man claimed that he was a priest named Jeronimo de Aguilar and that, in 1511, his ship had run aground on a sandbar or shallow water somewhere between the colony of Darién, Panama, and Hispaniola. Aguilar stated that he and seventeen other people on the shipwrecked vessel loaded themselves into a rowboat and attempted to paddle to Cuba or Jamaica. Yet, storms and strong currents forced the small boat to a Yucatan beach, where a local Mayan chieftain captured the stranded Spaniards. Most of the captives reportedly suffered horrible fates. Some were said to have been killed in ritual sacrifice, and others were worked to death as laborers. Yet, Aguilar and other survivors eventually escaped and found shelter in more lenient Mayan communities.

By 1519, only two of the original eighteen captives were still alive—Jeronimo de Aguilar and another man by the name of Gonzalo Guerrero. The two apparently kept in close contact, for when Hernán Cortés’ ransom payment was brought to the Mayan town where Aguilar was staying, the now-free priest decided to personally bring the rest of the ransom to where Gonzalo Guerrero was living. Interestingly, Guerrero reportedly refused to accept the ransom and decided to stay behind in the Yucatan Peninsula with his adopted community. Therefore, when Jeronimo de Aguilar arrived in Cozumel to meet Hernán Cortes, he arrived alone.

Unfortunately, no written autobiography of Gonzalo Guerrero was ever found, and even Jeronimo de Aguilar never took the time to write down his own life story. Therefore, the account of Aguilar’s debriefing as recorded by Bernal Díaz del Castillo, who would have met the newly freed Aguilar in person on the island of Cozumel, may be the closest thing to a first-hand account of Guerrero’s supposed life among the Maya.

Bernal Díaz recorded what Aguilar reported about the other surviving captive: “When questioned about Gonzalo Guerrero, he said that he was married and had three children, that he was tattooed, and that his ears and lower lip were pierced, that he was a seaman and a native of Palos, and that the Indians considered him very brave” (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 29). Aguilar elaborated that Guerrero’s wife was the daughter of a prominent native and that Guerrero’s tattoos and piercings were done as an act of assimilation. In addition, Gonzalo Guerrero reportedly had started teaching his adopted town new tactics and strategies for warfare, eventually going as far as acting as a general for his community in military campaigns. Aguilar claimed that Guerrero had personally told him, “they look on me as a Cacique [military chief] here, and a captain in time of war” (The Conquest of New Spain, chapter 27). Whether or not the debriefing was accurate, the Spanish perception of Gonzalo Guerrero was formulated solely from Jeronimo de Aguilar’s testimony—no other Spaniards spoke to Guerrero while he was alive.

The legend of Gonzalo Guerrero skyrocketed in 1526 or 1527, when two Spanish leaders, both named Francisco de Montejo (senior and junior), began a campaign of conquest against the Yucatan Peninsula. The Spaniards were shocked to find that the Mayans were mounting a stout and powerful resistance. Instead of a quick conquest, the campaign against the Yucatan Peninsula would last for around two frustrating decades.

Many Spaniards could not reconcile the stark difference between the speedy collapse of the Aztecs in Mexico versus the dogged resistance of the Mayan communities in the Yucatan. Unable to bring themselves to attribute the strength of the native Yucatan war effort to anything homegrown, a great deal of Spaniards became convinced that all of their problems in the Yucatan theatre of war stemmed from none other than Gonzalo Guerrero. This belief that Guerrero was a leading figure in the Yucatan resistance became even more solidified in the 1530s, when Conquistadors began making reports of enemy corpses that seemed to have Spanish physiological features. By the time the Spanish conquest of the Yucatan was completed around 1546, Gonzalo Guerrero had become a legend regardless of his role in the native resistance.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Gonzalo Guerrero statue in front of a relief of captives presented to a Maya Ruler; c. A.D. 785; Mexico, Usumacinta River Valley, Maya culture; both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Thursday, February 14, 2019

The Costly Battle of Champoton

In early 1517, over one hundred Spaniards on three ships set out from Cuba to explore the Yucatan Peninsula. The expedition, led by Francisco Hernandez de Cordoba, was met with mixed receptions whenever it made landfall. In some regions, the natives attempted to ambush the explorers when they came ashore. Yet, in other locations, locals received the conquistadors in peace, allowing the foreigners to tour their communities for a limited amount of time while under supervision. All in all, the expedition must have seemed lackluster—they had suffered casualties in the ambush and had found very little gold. Nevertheless, they were still making progress, if only in mapping the shores of the Yucatan Peninsula and learning about the local population.

Around early April, 1517, the Spaniards had traveled a fair distance down the western shore of the Yucatan Peninsula. In a fateful decision, the explorers decided to anchor their ships and paddle their rowboats to shore in order to gather water from some freshwater pools that they could see further inland. There were approximately one hundred conquistadors that were healthy in the expedition at the time, and all of them went ashore with their weapons. When they reached the freshwater pools, they saw signs of life—there were some small buildings nearby, and enough corn was planted there to make the Spaniards believe it was a local plantation.

Before the Spaniards could gather their water and leave, an army of natives arrived from a nearby city that the Spaniards later identified as Champoton. The approaching masses were armed for war, carrying bows, spears, slings and shields. Many of the native warriors also were described as wearing cloth armor and had their faces painted in red, white and black. Even though the two groups were armed and mistrustful, peace was maintained. Neither side had a translator, so they communicated as best they could through hand signals. The awkward attempt at sign language continued until night began to fall. As the sky darkened, the natives started heading back to Champoton. In an unwise move, the Spaniards decided not to return to their ships, but to instead camp by the beach.

When the dark of night arrived, it did not take long for the conquistadors to realize something was wrong. Rustling and voices reverberated from every direction around the Spanish camp. Although no native archers or slingers launched any projectiles into the camp during the night, the Spaniards soon came to believe that hostile and armed forces were amassing outside.

Bernal Díaz del Castillo, a conquistador and historian, was present in that camp and later wrote about his experiences. The Spaniards in the camp were in disagreement about what to do. Some wanted to launch an attack that very night against the forces they could hear rustling in the dark. Others wanted to flee to the boats immediately. In the end, however, the conquistadors just held their ground and waited until morning. When light returned, the Spaniards discovered that what they had been imagining in the dark of night was all true. During the night, several nearby towns and cities had sent warbands to besiege the conquistadors. Thinking back on the situation, Bernal Díaz felt that he and his companions were “outnumbered by two hundred to one” (The Conquest of New Spain, Chapter IV). The Spaniards were surrounded and it did not take long for the battle to commence.

According to the account by Bernal Díaz, it was the besieging native army that made the first move. After arranging themselves around the outside of the camp, the besiegers loosed a vicious barrage of projectiles with their bowmen and slingers. Bernal Díaz vividly wrote, “they assailed us with such a shower of arrows and darts and stones from their slings that more than eighty of our soldiers were wounded” (The Conquest of New Spain, Chapter IV). After the opening volley, native infantry charged forward against the camp while the archers provided support. By now, the conquistadors still standing were returning fire with their muskets and crossbows, yet they could not stop the momentum of the oncoming wave. When the charging native warriors reached the threshold of the camp, the Spaniards fought back with their swords. After a brief melee, however, the native infantry apparently became frustrated by the Spanish armor and weaponry and they decided to withdraw back to their original position with their archers.

Although they had won the melee, the Spaniards were far from winning the battle. In fact, they were on the verge of destruction. In assessing the state of the conquistadors after facing the opening barrage and the infantry charge, Bernal Díaz wrote, “All our soldiers had received two or three arrow wounds, three of them had their throats pierced by lance-thrusts, and our captain was bleeding from many wounds” (The Conquest of New Spain, Chapter IV). With many Spaniards dead and all other survivors wounded, the conquistadors decided their only option left was to flee for the rowboats. After packing tightly together, the ragged force pressed their way through the besieging natives and did not stop running until they reached their boats. With the enemy on their trail, the Spaniards did not take time to consider weight distribution and consequentially their rowboats began to take on water. Luckily, the vessels did not completely sink and the damp conquistadors eventually reached their ships.

The battle was reportedly only about an hour in length after the opening volley. Yet, although short in duration, it was incredibly costly in lives. According to Bernal Díaz, over fifty-five of the approximately one hundred men at the camp died of wounds sustained in the battle. Upon returning to the ships, the injured conquistadores immediately decided to return to Cuba. The captain of the expedition, Francisco Hernandez, was said to have suffered ten arrow wounds, but he lived long enough to lead his ships home. Tragically, he died of his wounds soon after successfully anchoring in Cuba.