Free To the Indies by C. S. Forester Page A

spears, against which ordinary clothes — leaving leather coats out of account — would be adequate protection. He took off his helmet.
     
    “We are here,” he announced, forcing his voice down into quiet conversational tones, “in the name of Their Highnesses the King and Queen of Castile and Leon.”
     
    The Indians smiled, with flashing white teeth, chattering to each other in their high-pitched voices.
     
    “The woman there has pearls!” said García at Rich’s shoulder.
     
    Round each arm above the elbow she wort a rope of pearls, each pearl larger than any they had obtained before.
     
    “Look at them, by God!” said Tarpia.
     
    The Indians noticed their gestures and turned to see what it was which was attracting so much attention; it was obvious enough to them that it was the pearls. They chattered and laughed to each other, the wearer of the pearls — a fine handsome woman of early middle-age — laughing as much as any of them, a little bashfully. The wrinkled old man beside her — husband or father, it was not apparent which — laughed and clapped her on the shoulder, urging her forward. She approached them modestly, eyes cast down. She stripped the pearls from her arms, stood hesitating for a moment, and then thrust one rope into García’s hand and the other into Tarpia’s, scuttling back to her companions with a laugh. The Spaniards eyed their treasures.
     
    “We must give them something in exchange,” said Rich. The Admiral’s orders had been very strict on the point that all treasure should be bartered for and never taken.
     
    “I know what I should give her,” said García, eyeing her nudity.
     
    Rich tried to ignore him; he sheathed his sword — a simple art which yet caused a new outburst of piping comment from the Indians — and fumbled through his pockets. He had two silver coins and a handful of copper ones, and he walked towards the Indians and dropped a coin into each hand as long as the supply lasted. The Indians looked curiously at the money. One of them suddenly spied the Queen’s head on the coin, and pointed it out to the others. Instantly they were all laughing again. To them it appeared to be the greatest joke in the world that someone should represent human features on an inanimate object — such an idea had never occurred to them. The wrinkled man presented Rich with his spear — a mere cane with the point charred with fire — and made a gesture embracing all his fellows and the encampment. There was an inquiring look in his face; clearly he was anxious to know if there was anything else the Spaniards would like. It dawned upon Rich, remembering also the interview with the other Indian’s in the canoe, that the first instinct of these people on meeting strangers was to give them presents. He smiled and nodded pacifically, a little embarrassed.
     
    A fresh idea suddenly struck the wrinkled man, and he turned and cried out to the others. His suggestion was greeted with obvious acclamation. The Indians laughed again, and clapped their hands. Some ran towards the huts, some came and took the Spaniards’ hands and led them towards the space between the huts and the fire, skipping like children at the new prospect. There was a fallen log near the fire. From the huts the Indians dragged out a few more blocks of wood, and most of the Spaniards found seats in this way. To tempt the others to sit down the Indians patted the earth invitingly. The women ran in and out of the huts, all a-bustle, while the men took sticks and began to open the earth near the fire.
     
    A girl put a big leaf on Rich’s lap; another girl brought him a flimsy basket filled with lumps of strange bread and offered it to him.
     
    “Cassava,” she said; Rich remembered the word as occurring in the depositions of survivors returned from the Indies.
     
    The men had by now completed their task. They had laid open a hole beside the fire, and from it arose a savory steam which smelt delicious,