Island of Cebu. San Lázaro Archipelago. April 28, 1521.
I can hardly bear to put pen to paper, but I feel I must write what has occurred in spite my grief. How could this have happened? And yet I knew the battle at Mactan was ill fated.
We sailed northwest through the channel between the islands of Cebu and Mactan and entered the bay near Silapulapu's village before dawn. But, strangely, the Admiral had failed to consider the tide. It was low, exposing a reef that extended a thousand yards seaward of the beach.
Seeing the obstacles that lay ahead, Rajah Humabon once again asked Magellan to reconsider. "I ask you again to allow my one thousand warriors to lead the attack as they are familiar with Silapulapu's defenses. Your men can be held in reserve; ready to join us when and where such support would be needed. Such strength would give my warriors great courage. Our victory would be assured."
"No! I forbid it!" Magellan replied angrily. "Keep your men in their canoes and off shore. We will show them how men of Spain fight!"
His words were final. We would have no assistance from Humabon's warriors. This fight would be ours alone.
At first light, the longboats moved as close to the shore as possible without risking being grounded on the coral. Most of us had armor, but we were forced to dispense with our leg guards. I, myself, wore a steel breastplate and a helmet. It almost felt like I was back in Cuba in the King's army. But this was another time and another commander.
The Admiral was the first to leap into the water followed closely by forty-eight handpicked men, his most loyal followers. We left the boat crews and the swivel guns behind as we waded the distance of two crossbow flights to the beach. I stayed close to the Admiral's left side with Antonio close behind me, while Cristovão and Enrique took their positions on Magellan's right.
To our great surprise, our landing on the beach was unopposed. "This is strange," Captain Cristovão growled. "Why do they not fight us here were the ground would be to their advantage?"
"Perhaps they thought better of fighting us," someone commented lightly. Enrique shook his head in disagreement, but said nothing.
"This could work to our advantage," the Admiral said thoughtfully. "If we can destroy their village, this battle and these islands will be ours. Move out!"
During the march to the village, a feeling of disquiet was growing in my mind. Silapulapu had seemed so determined and his threats sincere. The farther inland we traveled, the more sure I became that we were walking into a trap.
The village was deserted. Not even a dog roamed the streets as our torches lit flames in the palm huts. Hardly had we begun when a voice called out, "Beware, danger!"
Looking around quickly, I could see we were being attacked on each flank by two battalions of native warriors.
"Form up!" Magellan called out.
Quickly we were formed into two groups to counterattack, but the numbers and ferocity of the attacking natives forced us to regroup into one unit to maintain some defense. Time stretched on.
For hours the roar of the arquebuses and the twang of the crossbow resounded in our ears and kept our enemies at a respectful distance. But we couldn't keep this up forever. The powder and shot ran out at almost the same time as the crossbows began to fall silent. Our adversaries began to close in on us, hurling lances and firing poisoned arrows.
"Things are growing desperate," I heard the Admiral growl. "Men!" he shouted. "Begin to withdraw to the boats!" An involuntary gasp went up at the words. Retreat! We were being forced to retreat! At these words, many of the men broke ranks, running desperately back to the boats. "Keep in formation!" Magellan shouted as he limped back the way we had come. "More will be killed if you run headlong for the beach!" But few listened to our Captain General.
Our enemies, aware of their immanent victory, redoubled their efforts. They also realized that our legs were our one real vulnerable point and took careful aim at our retreating companions. In mere moments, only a small group remained with the lame Admiral. Myself, Antonio, Enrique, Cristovão, and a few others fought along side Magellan as we carefully retreated to the boats. The hail of spears and arrows continued while a brave few ran forward to meet our swords. We were hopelessly outnumbered! Eight against a thousand!
I silently cursed our retreating comrades as well as those out beyond the reef. Can they not see what is happening! I thought furiously. The Admiral's orders be damned! We need reinforcements! As if in answer to these thoughts, we heard the thunder of a cannon and my gaze shifted to our ships. To my horror I saw the cannon ball's destruction fall, not on our enemies, but among Humabon's canoes! What have they done! I watched the warriors of Cebu, who might still have helped us bring about a victory, paddle swiftly away.
Though I did not know it at that time, a drama had been unfolding out beyond the reef. Rajah Calambu had been desperately traveling between each of our ships, begging them to allow the warriors to help Magellan, but each commander refused. Magellan's allies were almost all fighting ashore and though I can somewhat understand what motivated Barbosa, still angry about his demotion, I cannot fathom why Serrano did not come to our aid. Why did he abandon his Captain? My old friend Carvalho, the navigator, took this treachery one step further as Calambu decided to take matter into his own hands. The rajah had ordered his men to aid us when Carvalho fired the cannon...right into their midst! It had the desired affect. We were on our own.
Though we fought desperately, the small number of men fighting along side our valiant Captain began to dwindle as one by one our comrades began to fall before the onslaught. We will die. I am still surprised how calmly I thought these words as my body continued to parry the lunges of my opponents. We are all going to die on this beach. I hope San Martín will take good care of the niño.
We continued to inch our way to the salvation of the sea. Only five of us remained. Antonio and I fought side by side, each guarding the other's back. Enrique and Cristovão fought on with Magellan. Despite his lame foot, the Captain fought valiantly beside his real son and the slave whom he had adopted as his son. These moments will forever be etched in my memory...but it could not last.
I wish that I could write that we fought so brilliantly that our foes, awed by our strength, hesitated to continue their assault. That my remaining companions, my friends, safely waded to the waiting longboats where we rallied our forces to defeat the natives of Mactan. I wish with all my heart that I could write this and have it be true. But it is not so.
Weary from constant battle, one by one we were wounded by the vicious blows of the opposing warriors. Our helmets had been knocked from our heads several times by the hail of weapons thrown by our foes and we were forced to quickly bend to retrieve them. Blood streamed down Antonio's face from a gash on his forehead and my breastplate hung by a single strap as the other had been severed by a slash that also cut the flesh beneath the leather. Enrique also bled and Magellan's right foot had been pierced by an arrow, making our progress became even slower. It was maddening! The water was so close but the Captain would never reach the sea if we broke and ran.
These thoughts were interrupted by a cry I will remember to my death. "Cristovão!" Magellan's voice. I hardly recognized it, so filled with rage and grief. I turned in time to see the young captain fall onto the sand. We watched in horror as Enrique dropped beside him, trying to help his friend. But it was too late. A poisoned arrow had struck Cristovão in the throat and his blood stained the ground red. Magellan stood as one turned to stone, staring down at the body of his son. With a cry of despair, he threw himself forward at the enemy.
"Captain!" I heard myself yell desperately as my two remaining companions and I leapt to his defense. But the Admiral fought like one possessed and, though wounded and lame, we three could not catch him. "Captain no!"
He was surrounded by the enemy warriors, bombarded by their stones and lances. As we watched helplessly, his helmet was knocked from his head and he could not retrieve it. "Go on!" he called despairingly. "Save yourselves!"
"No!" I continued to struggle towards him.
"Mendoza!" I threw off Antonio's grasping hands but it was a weak effort. "Mendoza!" He spun me around and struck me hard. His face was resolute though his eyes were filling with tears. "Obey his last command, Mendoza!"
"We have to save him," I turned to Enrique for support, but he stood beside Antonio.
His whole body trembled as he also began to pull me away. "It is too late, Mendoza," he said, choking on the words. "Let him die knowing we are safe!"
All the attention of our enemies was focused on Magellan, realizing he was our leader. Antonio and Enrique were right. We could remain with him and die, or flee and live. With a cry of anguish I turned with them and continued on to the boats.
Magellan continued to fight bravely, but his adversaries were great in number. From the safety of the boats we watched helplessly as a Mactan warrior slashed the Admiral's leg and he fell helplessly to the ground. It was over quickly.
I felt hot tears running down my face as the oarsmen pulled for the Trinidad. Enrique had collapsed into the bottom of the boat, unable to look at the grisly scene. Antonio's eyes were fixed on the same place as my own and he whispered softly, "They have slain our mirror, our light, our comfort, our one true guide."
Barbosa met us on the deck of the Trinidad. "Magellan?"
Antonio was the only one who could face him. "Slain!" The crew murmured in shock and disbelief.
"We must retrieve his body," I heard myself insist.
Barbosa shook his head. "That is impossible."
"But sir, if we rally our forces we can still..."
"Enough, Señor!" Barbosa cut me off, his eyes cold. "We will not go back!"
Antonio stared in disbelief. "But we cannot retreat like cowards leaving the Captain's body in their hands!"
"Not another word!" The former Captain's eyes blazed with fury. "Prepare to sail back to Cebu!" The crew stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. "Prepare to sail!" The seamen reluctantly moved to carry out his command and the Concepcion and Victoria were likewise employed. But I could not move. I remained where I was, on my knees on the main deck.
Two days have passed since the battle and we have returned to Cebu as Duarte Barbosa ordered. He has also informed Humabon of Magellan's death. The Rajah wept openly at the news and indeed most of the crews have been overcome with grief. But the positions left vacant by the deaths of Magellan and Cristovão had to be filled.
Duarte Barbosa was elected captain of the flagship, but no one trusts him with the sole leadership of the fleet and Captain Serrano is his co-commander. As for the Victoria, a Portuguese supernumerary named Luis Alfonso de Goes was appointed her Captain. Despite the circumstances, I could not help but be pleased when, once again, Carvalho and del Cano were overlooked for the positions they so desperately wanted.
The new captains sent a delegation to Mactan to buy the Captain General's remains. It was pathetic. Mere days ago we were lords of these islands and now, like cowards, we are reduced to offering to buy back the body of our commander. Of course, Silapulapu refused to part with his trophy and his fame as the destroyer of the White Lords of Thunder and Lightning is spreading across the whole archipelago.
The new captains have also closed the factoría and have asked for a guide to lead us from Cebu. It seems they now wish to continue on to the Spice Islands. Lo, how the mighty have fallen!
I fear for Enrique. He has not left his bunk since returning from the battle. When we leave these islands, what will become of him? And what of the niño? Without the Admiral's support and protection, how will I care for him?
I can see only darkness in the days ahead...