The New World

The New World

    The ship sped through the waves , cutting a clear white path amidst the blue sea. It complained while fighting against the raging waters of the high seas , a creation of man against the force of nature. Its ropes stretched almost to breaking point , its sails filled with the uncontrollable wind of the Atlantic , ready to burst and its wooden masts creaked under the pressure. Yet it held. It had held through storms that would put fear into the hearts of even the bravest captains , it had bested the brute strength of the sea and now it waded triumphantly through the watery mass. 

    El Amigo , that was its name. They could have tried to name it something more impressive and intimidating like La Venganza or the name of a saint , like San Juan. But no , its captain , a man called Hernan de Lorenzo wouldn’t have it any other way. “El Amigo , that’s the name. I can imagine it already , here on the side.” , and that was that , one sunny day back in the port of Sevilla in Andalucia. Nobody knew the story behind the choice of the name but they’d all accepted it without much thought. So , El Amigo had battled against the unforgiving Atlantic for almost five weeks and in doing so it had become their Amigo , their friend. From the first time the vessel almost toppled over , they all knew that their fortunes were tied to the fortune of the Amigo. 

    Their journey to the New World was nothing more than a simple transportation of goods and supplies to a colony off the coast of Jamaica. Nothing like the legendary expeditions of the renowned conquistadors that had braved the wild lands almost half a century before. Some of those gentlemen travelled with them on El Amigo. They wore their armors proudly , their swords hung lightly from their waists while they held on firmly to their halberds and lances. They were all silent , gazing forward into this new land they were called upon to conquer. Their helmets shone in the sun , sea water dripping from the sides. These were the warriors of the King and of God Himself , they would bring order and religion to this wild land , they would tame the savages that roamed it. 

    Giraldo took his eyes off the conquistadors that were beginning to notice his indiscreet glance and focused on the sea. His thoughts , as their ship , travelled to the New World. What was this land like ? He’d only heard it through stories and the drunken ramblings of sailors in the inns of Sevilla. “The devil’s garden !” , a man had shouted , “You’re more likely to die in the jungle before the savages get to you..” With an aggressive gesture he ordered another drink under the curious sight of young Giraldo. After he drank , he continued his vivid description of the “devil’s garden”. “Oh and my friends , even the sea is unwelcoming , storms that tear whole fleets of galleons apart !”

    “As if..” , he took a quick sip , “As if God does not want us good Christians travelling to this Hell on Earth. He strikes in anger and the seas are filled with fire from the skies and unearthly winds !”. His words certainly had an effect on his small , rather intoxicated , audience as everyone shifted uneasily on their seats , their drinks grown cold long past. “And if one manages to pass through the ship-swallowing sea and through the man-killing jungle , he’ll come face to face with the savages….”. He put extra effort on the last word. “Ungodly beings , more beastly than human , they prey on good men and smear their hands with Christian blood. Whoever dares enter their jungles , whoever dares to cross their plains , is met with savage aggression and an inhumane death.” The fire which burned steadily in the fireplace somewhere close , shone a golden light on the man’s face making his drunken eyes light up , adding to the dramatic description. 

    It certainly was an interesting evening for everyone. In the end , however , it turned out that the man had been a sailor that remained on the ship while his comrades simply traded with some savages. Now , as the ship came even closer to its destination , the drunk’s words echoed in Giraldo’s ears. Was this New World truly as he’d presented it ? Was it this Hell on Earth he’d so energetically described ? 

    “Capitan ! Capitan ! Land ! Land !” , the shouts of Jacopo , an Italian , interrupted the thoughts of Giraldo. Everyone turned to the front of the ship.Everyone but the conquistadors. They remained still while their faces seemed to have lost their color. Their silent eyes could barely hide their fear. For they knew that theirs was a different journey , a journey in which they could all die. But Giraldo hadn’t the time for that. He rushed to Lorenzo’s side and stepped on his toes to better see the New World. 

     The water below them slowly lost its deep blue color and was replaced by a lighter one. They were greeted with green shores as far as the eye could see. White sand covered the beaches while there was no other ship to be seen. A place unburdened by the touch of man, unreached by the firm grip of civilization. This was not a Hell, this was an Eden. Swarms of seagulls flew over the ship, their calls ones of welcoming. The sky devoid of clouds and the wind , a warm caress on the cheek of every man. The sails furled gracefully as they had now completely entered the Caribbean archipelago. Every island they passed was a virgin piece of land , small monuments to natural beauty. They were bathed in the sun’s life giving light while their smiles –for almost every man smiled at the sight of this beauty- shone white under the sunbeams. On the shores , big trees with large leaves moved lazily to the wind’s liking , a slow dance of celebration as this land commemorated their arrival. The sound of the waves as they hit the ship’s side , the only sound in this magical land , served as a calming melody to everyone’s ears. How could this be even compared to the noisy port of Sevilla , a city bustling with activity and commerce ? This was something better , something different. This was no Devil’s garden , this land belonged not to Lucifer. God dwelled in this land. Hidden beneath the azure waters , lying on the white sands , hanging from the trees , travelling with the warm wind , watching all of them with the watchful gaze of the sun. A Paradise on Earth , God’s garden. 

     The sun had set in the sky by the time they reached their destination -a humble port barely able to accommodate their ship- its amber colors painting the sparkling waters with a fiery shade. As they entered this port , Giraldo could not stop thinking about the drunken man’s words.

He was right about one thing , Giraldo thought , man had no place in this land.