Diego Velázquez was a handsome, rather stout man, well off and easy going. As the subordinate of the Viceroy of the Indies, he was not free to discover new lands and settle them himself without reference to his superior. If he made a discovery, he had to report it, when the Viceroy or the King of Spain could appoint him its ruler or, if they pleased, give the appointment to someone else. Velázquez, however, believed that if he made a worthwhile discovery, he had enough interest at the Court of Spain to keep it for himself.
In January 1517 a certain Hernández de Córdoba came to see him, accompanied by a hundred and ten young Spanish residents of Cuba. Córdoba was a rich man with a big estate, but the rest had not had lands allotted to them and were soldiers of fortune, who were anxious to go further afield and find some place where they might settle and grow rich. Among them was Bernal Díaz del Castillo, a needy young gentleman of twenty-five, who when an old man wrote Tie True History of the Conquest of New Spain, the most delightful, detailed and reliable of all the books written about Cortés and the conquest of Mexico. Córdoba explained to Velázquez that his companions had elected him their captain and that he was ready to put up money for a voyage of discovery, if Velázquez would authorize it and make a contribution. An agreement was reached: Velizáquez promised to provide one ship and provisions, if Córdoba supplied two ships.
The expedition left Cuba in February 1517. The course set was West. The central American mainland which had so far been discovered (and had been disappointingly poor and savage) lay southwards of the islands. The explorers had therefore no idea what, if anything, they would come upon to the westward. ‘Trusting to luck,’ writes Bernal Díaz, ‘we steered towards the setting sun, knowing nothing of the depth of water, nor of the currents, nor of the winds that usually prevail in that latitude.’
The west point of Cuba is only 150 miles from the top of Yucatán, the thick peninsula which forms the southern arm of the Bay of Mexico. But the Spaniards did not know this and when, after surviving a dangerous storm, they descried Catoche, its northern cape, they were relieved, though of course they could not tell whether the place was an island or part of the mainland. On coming close in, they saw in the distance a large town, and were astonished to perceive that many of its buildings were of stone, which was never used by the native inhabitants of the West Indies or the mainland further south. It must be a rich place they thought. There might be gold there.
What they had actually discovered was one of the civilized races of America, the Maya, a people who from the fourth century A.D. had developed a high culture. They were the greatest astronomers and mathematicians in the world of their time. As architects, potters, painters and sculptors, they had produced many great works of art. And they had developed a picture writing. They lived in large and beautiful stone cities. But Córdoba and his men saw nothing of this.
Bernal Díaz has described what they did see. When the ships were anchored off shore, ten large canoes put out full of men. The Spaniards beckoned to them to come aboard. About thirty of them did so. They were clothed in cotton jackets and loincloths. It was impossible to converse with them except by signs. But they seemed very cheerful and friendly. A string of green beads was given to each one. On leaving they intimated that they would return next day, take the Spaniards ashore, and let them have water and provisions. They returned as promised. The hundred-odd Spaniards landed in their own boats, taking their arms as a precaution. Fifteen of them were crossbowmen and ten musketeers. The beach was crowded with a multitude of spectators. A man, who appeared to be the governor of the place, received the visitors. His expression and gestures denoted, apparently, the utmost goodwill as he invited them to the town, which was a few miles distant. Marching in a compact body, the Spaniards set out with him. He led them, however, into an ambush. Suddenly they were attacked with great fury by a large force of soldiers in quilted armour, who discharged arrows, stones from slings, and javelins by means of throwing sticks. In the first few moments fifteen Spaniards were wounded, but the main body stood firm, fired their muskets and crossbows, and used their steel swords, weapons superior to any carried by the enemy. The Maya soldiers, who had never seen fire-arms, crossbows, or steel, lost their nerve and ran, leaving fifteen dead and two prisoners.
Nearby was a courtyard and three houses of masonry, which were found to be oratories and to contain images of gods. These sculptures seemed very hideous to the Spaniards, who could not appreciate an art which was different from that of the Renaissance. Moreover, since it was an art devoted to a religion alien to theirs, they were the further prejudiced. Indeed, not until quite recently have Europeans been able to admire pre-Columbian American art. But what Córdoba and his men could admire were things they found in some boxes in the temple—golden necklaces and diadems, and fish and ducks of gold. These they took and hurriedly retreated to their ships.
After the wounded were bandaged, the party decided to continue westwards and explore the Yucatán coast. They had made a wonderful discovery, though the glimpse of it had been tantalizingly short. Perhaps they would have better luck further on. Their two prisoners were taught some Spanish, so as to become interpreters. After a while the coast turned south-west. Days passed and, when the drinking water was very low, another large town was sighted, known afterwards as Campeche. There the Spaniards had an experience, which it was difficult to make sense of. Going ashore with their water casks, they filled them at a pool near the town. Hardly was this done when some Mayas of the upper class, dressed in smart cotton mantles, approached and asked by signs whether they came from the sunrise, repeating several times a word which sounded like ‘Castilan’. On the Spaniards saying they came from that quarter, the Mayas invited them to enter the town. After their experiences at Catoche they hesitated, but, on talking it over, decided to go. They were taken straight to a large stone building which was evidently a temple. The interior was frescoed with pictures of deities and large serpents. In the centre was an altar covered with fresh blood, as if sacrifices had just been made on it. The Spaniards were disturbed by the sight of the altar, though many women moved laughing among them. Presently some men in ragged mantles, who looked like slaves, piled up reeds for a fire and two squadrons of archers drew up nearby. Then suddenly there emerged from an oratory to one side a number of sinister figures. They wore white cotton cloaks, reaching to their feet, their faces were painted black, and their long hair was matted with blood. These priests, for that is who they were, carried pottery braziers in which a copal incense was smoking. They approached the Spaniards and fumigated them, as a Catholic priest might incense a holy thing. Having done so, they drew attention to the prepared fire, lit it, and intimated that the Spaniards should leave before it went out. The archers, and other soldiers who had crowded near, now began to whistle and sound their drums in so threatening a manner that it was deemed prudent to return immediately to the ships.
The meaning of this encounter was not understood by the Spaniards until they became better acquainted with that part of the world.
Fifty miles further down the Yucatán coast the voyagers came in sight of Chanpoton. A river flowed into the sea three miles from this large town and they thought the water casks could be filled there without attracting much attention. But they rashly stayed the night on land and at dawn found themselves surrounded by Maya troops who outnumbered them two hundred to one. A fierce battle followed in which the Spaniards lost fifty men killed. The remaining fifty or so, all wounded, some desperately, regained the ships with the greatest difficulty, having to abandon their casks. There was nothing to be done but return to Cuba. Soon after reaching it, Córdoba died of his wounds. It was a catastrophe.
However, Velázquez, the Governor, was much impressed by the news they brought of a civilization in advance of any met with since Columbus had discovered the Indies. The sight of the gold ornaments taken at Catoche delighted him. He decided to send another expedition. This left in April of the following year, 1518, under the command of Juan de Grijalva, a relative of his. Velázquez provided a larger share in the expenses than on the previous occasion, but the provisions were paid for by some young landowners of distinction who joined the expedition. Altogether 240 Spaniards went, each bringing his own arms, among them Bernal Díaz del Castillo again, this time with the rank of ensign. Velázquez told them to take the same route as Córdoba and go beyond Chanpoton, his furthest point. If feasible they should make a settlement. Above all they should try to get gold, either by barter or seizure. After they left, he wrote off to his friends at the Court of Spain to inform them of his discovery of a new rich country and to ask them to work for his appointment as its Governor. In this he was intriguing behind the back of his superior, the Viceroy of the Indies, who claimed the right of adding to his existing jurisdiction whatever discoveries his subordinates might make. It is necessary to note this manœuvre, because later it suggested to Cortés how to go over Velázquez’s head and appeal direct to Charles, nephew of Ferdinand, who in 1518 had become King of Spain at the age of eighteen.
Grijalva and his 240 companions failed to make Cape Catoche and were carried south by currents to the island of Cozumel, a short distance down the east coast of Yucatán. On seeing the ships the islanders fled. Failing to induce them to return, Grijalva left and, passing Catoche and Campeche without landing, arrived at Chanpoton where Córdoba had met with disaster. The Spaniards had more fire-arms on this occasion and going ashore drove off the Maya soliders who resisted them. After staying three days in the town, which was deserted and where they could find no gold, they continued their voyage along the coast. At Tabasco, a coastal area between the Maya country and Mexico, they managed, with the help of the two Maya captives taken by Córdoba who were by now able to interpret a little, to persuade the inhabitants to barter gold for coloured glass beads; glass, not being known in America, was mistaken for jade, a stone which was much prized. Continuing westwards along the coast, they passed without knowing it the Mexican border. The landscape changed; it became more mountainous and they beheld far inland a great snow peak, an astonishing spectacle in the sweltering heat of June in the tropics. (This was the volcano of Orizaba [18,700 feet] behind which on a plateau, 7,000 feet high, stood the fabulous city of Mexico.)
Soon they were to have a curious experience. At the mouth of a river about fifty miles short of the future Vera Cruz they saw a number of people carrying white flags on long poles, which they waved to the ships, as if inviting them to stop. An armed party was sent ashore to investigate. On return they reported to Grijalva that they had found some well-dressed men seated in the shade with mats before them, on which were spread fruit, fowls and maize cakes. The Spaniards were invited by signs to sit down and eat. As their hosts did not speak the Maya language, the interpreters were useless. Censers were brought and the Spaniards were fumigated.
On hearing this report, Grijalva went ashore himself. He was received with the greatest respect. After distributing some of his glass beads, he managed to make it understood that he would give more, if they brought him gold. This they did and during the next few days the Spaniards got in exchange for beads gold jewellery worth sixteen thousand pieces of eight. Owing to the language difficulty, Grijalva could not ascertain why he had been beckoned ashore and entertained, and who precisely his hosts were.
Later on, the full meaning of these events will be given. Suffice it at present to say that the men at the river mouth had been told by Montezuma, the King of Mexico, to watch for the Spaniards’ arrival and invite them ashore. He had already been informed of Grijalva’s landings at Chanpoton and Tabasco. He thought the strangers might be the people of the god Quetzalcoatl, whose return he was expecting. As this was a matter of the greatest importance for him and his kingdom, he had instructed the watchers to send him a full report in the Mexican picture writing.
Grijalva left the river and continued his voyage a little further westwards, sure that he had made a great discovery, overjoyed at the gold, but unable to find a clear explanation of what had happened. At the few places where he landed, nothing of note was observed, except that at an island he called San Juan de Ulúa he found the bodies of two boys who had just been sacrificed in a temple. Their bleeding hearts were in a receptacle below an image. This was his first glimpse of the Mexican religion, with which the Spaniards were afterwards to become so familiar.
It was now July and Grijalva decided to return to Cuba. He might have tried to settle, but thought it too risky. As he had no Mexican interpreter, he could not negotiate with the local lords. His two Maya interpreters must have known they had reached Mexico and told him so. They may also have known and told him that there was a great king living beyond the mountains. But that was all very vague. Accordingly he sent ahead his lieutenant, Pedro de Alvarado, one of the paladins of the future conquest, in the fastest sailer to tell Velázquez the news and deliver the gold, while he himself returned more slowly with the other three ships. They reached Cuba in November after an absence of seven months.