If you look on the map of South America, you will see up in the northeast corner the island of Trinidad, and close by, indenting the coast of the mainland, the Gulf of Para. Stretching west from about this point was what was called the Pearl Coast, and it was in this region that was situated the land that had been granted to Las Casas for his company of the Knights of the Golden Spur. Now while he was in Spain events had taken place in this territory that made the founding of a colony very difficult indeed.

Both the Franciscans and the Dominicans had been trying to do missionary work among the natives, as we know, and both orders had monasteries there. For a time all went well, until a Spaniard named Ojeda, engaged in the pearl fishery, had come over from the island of Cubagua, seeking slaves.

This pearl fishing was carried on by use of the Indians in a most heartless manner. The poor creatures were kept swimming about under water from early morning until sunset. When they came up with their nets, in which they put the oysters,—from the shells of which the pearls were taken,—if they stopped to rest, a man in a boat, who kept rowing about all day for this purpose, drove them in again with blows, sometimes seizing them by the hair and throwing them in. They were half starved, their only food being the oysters or fish and a very little bread. At night they were put in the stocks to prevent them from running away. The consequence of such treatment was that they did not live long, and it was necessary to supply the places of those that died with others. For this reason slave raids were very frequent.

This Ojeda, then, came over to the mainland to get more slaves, and carried off a large number of the Indians. Of course this made the natives very angry and they resolved to kill him and the white men with him.

Because Ojeda had stopped at the Dominican convent the natives supposed that the monks were his friends. And when the slave hunter came ashore again a few days afterward the infuriated Indians killed him and his men, and a week later they attacked the convent and killed the monks also.

When the news of this revolt of the natives was heard at San Domingo, the officers of the colony resolved to send an expedition to avenge the murder of the Dominicans, and a captain, named Ocampo, was placed in command of it. This force started at once, and had reached Porto Rico when Las Casas and his laborers landed. Perhaps you can imagine how the clerico felt when he knew that Ocampo and his soldiers were going to the very country that had been granted to him for his settlement and were to punish the Indians there, where he had hoped to set up a sort of city of refuge for them. He hurried to show Ocampo his papers ordering that no one should go to that part of the country except Las Casas and the monks, and that the natives were to be in his care and not enslaved.

But although the papers had the royal signature, Ocampo declared that he had had his orders from the officers of the colony at San Domingo, and that he must carry them out; that they would protect him if he was doing anything illegal. In vain did Las Casas storm and plead. It was all of no use. It seemed to him that there was nothing to be done but to go to San Domingo at once and get the officers to recall Ocampo. So he distributed his laborers by twos and threes among the citizens of Porto Rico, and hurried away.

Nobody in San Domingo was glad to see the clerico except his friends the Dominicans. All others were angry with him for what he had been doing at the Spanish court to obtain the freedom of the Indians. They knew, however, that Las Casas was in great favor with the King and his ministers, and so they were afraid to oppose him openly or to defy the royal authority; but they did everything they could to delay matters. They said they would consider; and they considered so long that it soon became useless to talk about recalling Ocampo, for it was too late to reach him. They discovered, also, another way to prevent Las Casas from going on. They found a ship master, engaged in the slave trade, who was only too glad to help them by declaring the clerico's vessel unseaworthy; and he was not allowed to use it. So there he was, helpless and at his wits' end to know what to do.

Meanwhile, Ocampo had reached the Pearl Coast, decoyed a number of the natives on board, and made slaves of them, hanging their chief at the yardarm. He also captured a great many others. Finally, by means of an Indian woman,—who had been taken from Cubagua to Hispaniola and could speak Spanish, and whom he freed for the purpose,—he made peace with the remaining Indians, and began to build a town.

The slaves Ocampo had captured were brought to San Domingo and sold under the clerico's very eyes; nor could he do anything to prevent it, although, as he tells us himself, he "went raging."

He became so angry now, however, that the authorities thought they had better do something to make peace with him. He declared he would go to Spain and tell the King how little attention they paid to the royal commands, and would have them all punished. They knew he was very likely to do just what he said and so at last they went to him with a plan which they hoped would pacify him. They wanted to go with him as partners. That is, they wished to form a company to go and settle the land, all of them contributing toward the expenses and all sharing in the profits. This was a long way from being the sort of colony Las Casas had meant to found; for these men did not care at all for the good of the Indians; all any of them wanted was to make money; but he had not found any men to become Knights of the Golden Spur, and unless he went in this way it looked as if he could not go at all, so he consented.

They fitted out two ships for him, and at last he sailed, stopping at Porto Rico to take on his laborers. But here he had another disappointment: not one of them could be found. They had grown tired of waiting, had heard such stories of the riches to be gained by mining or engaging in the slave trade that they had every one gone off either pirating or chasing Indians or something else equally bad; and Las Casas had to go on without them.

When at length Las Casas reached the land where he had hoped to do such great things for the natives, the Franciscans came joyfully to meet him, chanting Te Deums. Now, they felt, they had a friend and protector. They took him into their little convent,—which was only of wood, thatched with straw,—and into their little garden, where they had orange trees, vines, and melons, and there they talked together of what they should do.

Las Casas built a large storehouse for his goods, and sent word to all the Indians in that part of the country that he had been sent out by the new King of Spain, and that he was their friend and would protect them. They should not be ill-treated any more. He sent presents to them to show that he wished to be friends with them.

Ocampo and his men had had such a hard time that they were not willing to stay there, and all sailed away, leaving Las Casas with only a few servants and one or two helpers. It was not much like the way he had expected to begin his famous settlement. If it had not been for the Franciscans, he would have been lonely indeed.

All might yet have gone well if it had not been for the Spaniards on the island of Cubagua. They had no good water on that island, and this made an excuse for coming to the mainland very often. They brought liquor with them, which made the Indians drunk and unmanageable, and they taught them many evil ways. This was a great perplexity to Las Casas and the good monks. All the good they tried to do, all their teachings of the Christian religion, were made of little use by the evil example of these wicked men. Las Casas thought that perhaps if he had a fort at the mouth of the river, he could mount the guns he had brought with him and keep the unruly people in order. So he hired a mason to build one; but the people on Cubagua found out what was going on and bribed the man to stop work and come away, leaving the fort unfinished.

Things grew worse and worse, and all felt that something must be done. The head of the Franciscans kept urging Las Casas to go to San Domingo and get the officers there to help them. The clerico knew it was of no use at all to appeal to those men, who had already hindered him so greatly in his plans for the good of the Indians; therefore, for a long time he refused to go. Finally, however, not wishing to be obstinate, he agreed to do so, against his better judgment.

He appointed one of his men, Francisco de Soto, to take charge in his absence, instructing him particularly not to let both of their boats leave the settlement at the same time, as, if trouble arose with the Indians, these boats might be their only means of escape. This man, either because of stupidity or rebellion, did the very thing he had been told not to. As soon as the clerico's back was turned he sent one boat off one way and the other another; and sorry enough he must have been for it before long, for trouble came almost at once.

The pearl fishers of Cubagua had not ceased to molest the Indians, and it was hardly two weeks after Las Casas had sailed before the Franciscans detected signs of danger. The woman who had been used by Ocampo to make peace with the natives was still there, and the fathers asked her whether they were right in thinking that the Indians were planning to attack them. The woman, by name Maria, said "No" with her lips, because other Indians were near, but "Yes" with her eyes. The monks and the clerico's servants were very much alarmed, and a ship touching on that coast for some reason, they begged the captain to take them on board; but he refused, and they were left to their fate.

In the settlement great anxiety and terror reigned. The white men tried to find out what day had been set for the attack, and at last heard that it was to take place the next day. They began to fortify the monastery and the storehouse, and set up twelve or fourteen guns that they had; but discovered that their powder was damp. We wonder how they could have been so careless as to allow it to be in this state, when they had known for some time that trouble was likely to occur. Now, however, they took it out to dry it in the sun, as soon as it rose. They were too late, however; for the Indians came upon them with a rush, and they fled for the monastery building. A few of the clerico's servants were killed, but the rest of them and the fathers reached the shelter of the monastery. The Indians, however, set it on fire.

There was a door into the garden, at the rear, and a tall fence of cane hid it from the view of the Indians. The refugees ran out of this door into the garden and through another door out to the creek that ran nearby, where the monks had a boat of their own, which would hold fifty persons. All got in except one lay brother, who at the first alarm had fled and was hidden in a thicket of cane. He now appeared, high up on the bank, and the boatmen tried hard to reach him; but the current was too strong; all their exertions failed to bring the boat near enough to him. Seeing that all would be lost if they did not cease their attempt to save him, the brother signed to them not to make further effort; and they were obliged to leave him to his fate. Poor fellow! He was killed almost at once.

The Indians were not long in seeing that their victims were escaping, and hurried after them in a much lighter boat, so that they gained on the fugitives with every stroke. The Spaniards were obliged to drive their boat to land and hide in a thicket of cactus. Only those in fear of death could have forced their way into such a thicket. The Indians, with their naked bodies, could not push through the thorns, and the fleeing men therefore escaped and made their way to their countrymen's ships, thus getting in safety to San Domingo. De Soto, however, died before their arrival. He had been shot with a poisoned arrow while running to the monastery for shelter.

All this happened within two months after Las Casas' departure. He, meanwhile, through the ignorance of the sailors, had been carried a long way past San Domingo, and for all this time had been beating about with contrary winds, finally landing on another part of the island, whence he was obliged to proceed on foot.

He was traveling with a party of persons also bound for San Domingo, and one day at noon, as they drew near the city, while they were all resting in the shade of the trees, some people came up with them and told them that the news had reached the city that the Indians of the Pearl Coast had killed the clerico, BartholomÉ Las Casas, and all his household. Those who were traveling with Las Casas denied this, saying that he was with them; and while they were disputing he awoke and heard what they said.

Although he thought it might not be as bad as it was represented, he knew that something terrible must have happened to his little colony, and went on at once in great anxiety to find how much of the news was true. A short distance out some of his friends met him. Having heard that he was on the road, they had come to try and comfort him and to offer him money to start another colony. But at last the brave spirit gave way. He could not rally at once from such a grief, and he went, broken-hearted, to his friends the Dominicans, to hide his sorrows within the walls of their monastery.