Humanities Voyage

“Land! Land!” Rodrigo, a fellow sailor, shouted from the crow’s nest. Men started gathering to the front deck enthusiastically. I looked passed the crowd and there it was, the soft white sandy shores of the beach.

Our captain came out of his cabin hurriedly. “Men! Get ready to land!” ordered Christopher. The sailors rushed back to their posts.

As soon as we were close enough to shore Captain commanded, “Drop the anchor!”
There was a loud splash of water and the sound of chains sank quickly, then two slow thuds sounded rocking the boat as the anchor hit the bottom of the shallow ocean.

Everything went in a rush. By the time I could hear my own thoughts was when these strange naked people were swimming out at us while we were rowing up to the shore. We were closing in on the land and I could see hordes of people pointing at us and the ships.

As soon as we landed on the beach these tanned people stared at us. I looked around my surroundings taking in the scenery. I even saw some of the inhabitants watching us from a distance. Children ran around us or speaking words I couldn’t understand, but it sounded like questions. Women were offering us these strange foods that mostly consisted of fruits and berries while the men were holding up spears and daggers giving it to us.

I looked towards our captain. There was an odd glint in his eye as he smiled at these Indians. I followed his eye movements to realize that he was staring at the jewelry that some wore. They were gold and glittering in the light of the morning sun.

A light tug on my arm got me out of my scrutiny of Christopher. I looked down and there was a girl, looking the age of thirteen, held out a beaded necklace with a white feather as the pendant. I smiled at her and took the gift. She ran back into the shrubs.

“Jonathan, you lucky bastard,” my friend Raphael patted my on the back. “You‘ll win all these naked ladies hearts just because you‘re the youngest.”

I rolled my eyes and his absurd remark and placed this new accessory around my neck.

More of our men came onto shore with boxes for trading. Even more tanned skin men and women started trading us.

I heard oh’s and ah’s surrounding Christopher. I walked a bit closer to get a better look and his shiny sword had a small stain of blood. Was he attacking them? No. The Indians were in awe at the sword, like they’ve never seen iron before.

Afterwords, they led us through the jungle, lush with the life of animals, bugs, and greens. A man made a gesture looking like he was saying that we were close.

Emerging from the wilderness we were greeted with a small village who were living their everyday lives. I felt out of place and awkward around these villagers. All the children were following us with excited curiosity while the mothers looked up from their work in wonder.

The man took us to a large hut. He went in and after a few seconds and out with another man. He had an array of jewelry, all made of gold. Christopher, yet again, greedily eyed the gold ornaments the chief of the village wore.

“Do you know where the gold is?” Christopher asked slowly as if the chief was deaf. He pointed to the necklaces and multiple earrings the man wore. The man suddenly seemed to disappear back into his hut and came back out with a mask. A mask made of pure gold. The men, including me, behind Captain shuffled and stared at the mask in marvel.
Christopher repeated his question, “Where is the gold?”

The chief started saying incomprehensible words and making hand movements.

“Do you understand anything?” Raphael whispered to my ear. I shook my head no.

Our captain’s lips went thin and his breathing was heavy. All of this knew what this
meant. Christopher had little patience. He drew out his sword and put it towards the neck of the petrified chief, along with everybody else. The ruckus of daily life stopped. All was heard were the birds, the rustles of the trees, and the spontaneous crackles of the fire.

“What are you doing, Captain?” Everado, a soldier, asked in alarm to our captain hostility.

“Just take the strong looking men,” Christopher ordered.

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. He was planning on capturing these innocent people to find the gold. Greedy bastard.

“Do it. Now!” he commanded. We drew out our own swords and scrambled after the buff, tall, naked men that might serve a purpose to Christopher’s brutish plan.

Screaming of women and children commenced. The whole village was in an uproar. I saw a tall tough looking man huddled over his wife and child. I ran over to them and grabbed the man from behind taking him away from his family. His wife shrieked and ran towards me pulling at my hair and scratched at my face. I felt the sting of my cuts that were above my eye and another at my cheek. The little boy grabbed onto my leg halting my movements.

With a swift strike of my elbow, the mother is knocked back with shattered teeth and a cracked nose. She hit’s the ground, sobbing and gargling on the floor in a pool of her own blood. In a heightened stage of adrenaline, I grab the boys chin and swing his head back snapping his neck in a whiplash affect. The boy spurted blood over my hands. “Oh God, what have I done?” I think to myself. But before I could even finish the thought, the father suddenly slammed my own bayonet against the back of my head. I felt the smooth stinging sensation of blood flowing out of my skull. Laying on hands and knees, I hear nothing but blood flow, until I realized that I was bleeding out of my ears.

Laying on the ground now I feel nothing but numb pressure. Pressure that is slowly transforming into glorious pain. It feels as if I haven’t felt pain in years. Then the father begins stomping on my face and chest, until I feel a few cracks in my chest cavity. Then it happens again, I enter complete savage instinct. I stand up as fast as I can, pull out my dagger, and strike him. It must have been my lucky day, right into the heart, under the ribs. I shove the blade farther into him, and quickly move the blade in a zigzag motion causing the father to scream in agony. He grabs my hair in his last attempts to kill the man who had just murdered his family. And I pull the dagger out, and slice his fingers off.

I stand up and back away. The father is shaking uncontrollably, coughing up blood. I watch him until he bleeds to death.

I’ve lost enough blood to be dead already, yet God plays this sick and twisted game of keeping me alive to bare the fact I just murdered a whole family violently. As if I have been cursed, unable to die, living with my shame.

So I resort to fleeing, nothing else matters in my life anymore. I didn’t care about Christopher, Spain, or the gold. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I end up in a meadow, under the wondrous palm trees that inhabit these lands. A young man my age would see this perfect land. But even in this wonderful place I can only hear the screaming of the family. Their screams of pain and suffering. The pure blood splattering the floor, cracking of limbs, and the ominous sound of a humans last breath in this world. My bayonet on my side is my only comfort, for it has the answer to all of this.

I put the cold hard tip of the barrel to the inside of my mouth. Only one simple pull of a trigger could end my life that was less painful than the one I gave to that innocent family. Even us, the civilized can be savages. Is killing and using a whole ‘uncivilized’ village worth this expedition?

Click.