The Jesuit Warrior

By Clint Bennett

Two men of God left Spain for the new world. One of them was a fully ordained member of the elite Jesuit society, and the other was his protégé. The faith of the Jesuit was deeply ingrained and unwavering, while the faith of his student was weak and questionable at best. They each left Spain with different goals. The goal of the Jesuit was to save the souls of the pagan tribes thought to occupy west central Florida, while the goal of the youth was exploration and adventure. The apprentice had witnessed horrific events as a child, events that were approved and encouraged by the church and the inquisition. He would later witness events that would destroy his fragile faith and turn his life in a completely different direction. He became a realist. Although he still searched for truth and honor, he was convinced he would not find it in the teachings and actions of the Jesuits or the Spanish. He renounced his heritage, and the teachings of the Jesuits became irrelevant. He would find his truth and honor in the most unlikely of places, among the so-called pagan savages called the Calusa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647011017

Book preview

Chapter 1

July, Year 1700

The warrior trotted effortlessly down a well-marked and well-traveled trail. He was barrel-chested, long-legged, and slightly taller and heavier than the average warrior. He traveled at a pace he could maintain all day if needed and had done so many times. On his back, he carried a short strong bow made from a straight second-growth hickory sapling. In a deerskin quiver, he carried six war arrows. The arrows were fletched with turkey feathers and decorated in the red and black design favored by the Calusa.

He was dressed for running long distances. On his feet were short deerskin boots that came over his ankles. The soles were made of the belly skin of an alligator and were tied to the deerskin upper with narrow strips of deer sinew. The boots were lined with rabbit fur on the inside. For his breechcloth, he wore a rectangular piece of deerskin that was between his legs, wrapped and tied around his waist. This garment kept his genitals held firmly against his body as he ran. A wide deerskin belt held his weapons.

Securely held in his wide belt was a short razor-sharp steel knife. The knife had a short handle firmly fastened to the steel with pine resin and rawhide. He also carried a steel hatchet with a hickory handle as long as his forearm. The steel weapons were rare and considered very valuable. On his shoulders, he wore a short deerskin vest that ended well above his waist. His hair was jet-black and shoulder-length. His only adornment was a single eagle feather entwined in his hair.

He had earned the feather by killing a Timuca warrior when he was sixteen years old. Because of his ability to move rapidly and quietly through the marsh and woodlands, the people in the village called him Panther. As was the Calusa custom when reaching warrior status, he chose the name Panther for himself. His chosen name was deemed suitable by the Calusa and readily accepted. His facial expression could be described as confident and slightly arrogant. He was twenty-four years old.

He lived in King Town with relatives and friends. He had no hut of his own. He had been staying with a widow woman in Aripeka for two weeks, fishing and hunting manatee. The village was used as a temporary fishing camp during the early fall months. The tide levels were unusually low in the fall and the area around Aripeka was the only high ground that provided access to the nearby Weekiwatchee River. Manatees were plentiful in the river and were easily killed.

That morning, the unusual quiet from the village had disturbed the warrior from a sound dreamless sleep. Normally, he awoke to the sound of the children playing and the women busy with the preparations for the morning meal. As he left the small hut, he was aware of a slight disturbance from the normal awakening village routine. Osprey, the chief of this particular village, was waiting for him near the firepit, where a small smokeless fire was burning. No one was busy with the morning routine; they all seemed to be waiting for him.

Osprey spoke, addressing the entire village. This morning, he began, two of the tall white ships were sighted on the horizon. One is large, as long as fifteen canoes, the other much smaller, as long as two canoes. The larger one was well offshore and was not moving. The smaller ship seemed to be searching the shoreline. They were spotted by Watana and his two sons, who were checking their fishing nets. Watana and his sons hid behind a mangrove island, and they were not seen by the ships. Someone must go to King Town and tell Chief Kele.

As expected, Panther stepped slowly before the old chief and announced that he would go. He then bragged briefly about his bravery and skill as a runner, warrior, and hunter. He described in detail how he had buried his hatchet in the face of the Timuca warrior. The villagers had heard this story before but still listened with interest. Panther embellished each new account, and the villagers accepted each new version as fact. They urged him on and agreed he should carry this important news to the chiefs at King Town. Panther had no wife, and he was popular with the village maidens. He often slipped away into the woods with the unattached women of all the villages. Before he left, Panther filled a small deerskin pouch with some roasted deer meat and some of the freshly boiled heart of palm, which was a staple part of the Calusa diet.

The next small Calusa village was at Weekiwatchee Spring, north and east of Aripeka. Panther reached the village after a difficult three-hour run. The two villages were only ten miles apart; however, most of the trail wound through the coastal cypress swamp and wetlands. Several times, he removed all his clothing and carried his weapons and clothes above his head as he waded through shoulder-high water. The water here was brown and muddy from a recent storm. The trail wound through virgin cypress swamp, and the trees towered like ancient proud sentinels. The river maples and hickories were dark and gray from the oppressive Florida midsummer heat. The swaying of the Spanish moss was the only movement in the swamp. The air was stagnant—no wind, no cooling breeze—and filled with the scent of dead and decaying thick brush. Even the water had a dead smell; there was no current here to keep it alive.

The Weekiwatchee village was small and temporary, used for the same purpose as the village of Aripeka, the hunting of the manatees. The village had no chief, and consisted of only four related families. Panther stopped long enough to drink from the crystal clear spring. All the villagers gathered around him and listened to the disturbing news about the sighting of the ships. The ships had occasionally been seen before but never this close to the shoreline.

At Weekiwatchee, the land became higher and more open pine-and-oak forest, and the trail was much easier to follow. The low swampy marshland trail between Weekiwatchee and Aripeka opened, and Panther resumed his normal rapid pace. All along this part of the trail, the palmettos were head high and even taller in some of the clumps. Panther trotted at a brisk, mile-eating pace although constantly alert for any danger.

At this time, the Calusa were not at war with any of the neighboring tribes; however, he was cautious. He was ten miles from the small Calusa settlement at Homosassa and would easily reach it in two hours. Panther would spend the night visiting with friends and relatives at the Homosassa village. Had he been in a hurry, he could have easily reached King Town before nightfall.

Longbow was the chief of the Homosassa village. He was sixty years old and a respected member of the entire Calusa community on Florida’s west coast. Panther knew the location of Longbow’s lookouts and began shouting Ho ho ho! long before he reached their location hidden among the palmettos.

Ahead of him, a young Calusa warrior stepped slowly out of an oak thicket. The warrior removed an arrow from his bow as he recognized Panther. The two warriors clasped each other’s forearm in the accepted Calusa friendly greeting. The warrior’s name was Small Bear.

Small Bear, you are becoming a large bear, Panther said in jest to the eighteen-year-old warrior.

Why are you here? replied Small Bear. Have the jealous husbands thrown you out of Aripeka?

Panther laughed and joked with Small Bear for a few minutes, then briefly discussed the reason for his visit. I have news for your chief, and it is not good. There are two of the white ships moving north. One of the ships is traveling near the shore. They are probably looking for deep water and slaves, and they may find your village or King Town.

Looking seriously at Panther, Small Bear asked if he knew why they were called the stinking men. Panther’s answer did not satisfy the young warrior. His was the same answer he had heard all his life.

Panther smiled at Small Bear as he answered, I have never seen one or smelled one. Jason, the black warrior, says they wear all the clothes they own, they sweat constantly, and they never wash. Some of them wear the iron shirts and hats we have heard about. I have heard they are noisy and can’t move quietly in the woods. I have also heard they are easy to track and kill. We will have no fear of them.

The Calusa village at Homosassa was not impressive. There were five small huts built around a high area adjacent to the spring. Longbow and his two wives occupied the largest. Most of the members of this village lived in huts scattered down river from the spring. There was a large Calusa village on Tigertail Island five miles downriver from the spring itself. The land around the spring was low and marshy, unsuitable for the location of a central village.

Longbow welcomed Panther as a good friend and respected warrior. His wives prepared an evening meal of baked river turtle and boiled heart of palm as the two men discussed the sighting of the strange ships. Longbow had traded an otter skin for some tobacco, and the two men talked and smoked until the mosquitoes drove them inside Longbow’s hut. They slept on a thick bed of fresh green pine needles covered with a soft doeskin.

Rising with the sun, Panther ate hot corn bread prepared by Longbow’s wives, drank from the spring, borrowed tobacco from Longbow, and left for King Town, an easy three-hour trot.

Without ceremony or any disturbance of normality, Panther strode proudly into King Town. The warrior was well-known in the village and posed no threat. The smoldering remains of a large fire were visible at the top of the massive earthen mound, the smoke dancing lazily in the light wind. The fires on top of the mound were kept burning all night as a beacon when the men were hunting the manatee. The mound was fifty feet high and one hundred feet across the bottom. No one knew who built the mound; it was there when the Turtle clan settled the site six generations ago.

Thirty canoes lined the riverbanks pulled up high on the riverbank past the high-tide levels. Six of the canoes had been lashed together with cypress saplings and could be called catamarans. They were used for carrying fish, manatee, porpoises, turtles, or whatever was killed or netted. They were the workboats of the Calusa. Three long cypress logs sitting on stumps were being made into canoes. Small fires were burning in the center of two of them, and an Indian craftsman was hollowing the inside of the other log with a large steel axe.

Four small cooking fires were burning with iron pots sitting on flat rocks near the fire. One of the fires had a green bamboo structure positioned over some coals raked into a corner. Six turtles and the skinned carcass of a five-foot-long shark were being roasted. The turtles were being roasted in their shells. The younger women were preparing the morning meal for their families. The Calusa traded with the Timuca for corn, and it was a staple part of their diet. The Indians had no structured time for their meals; they ate when they were hungry, and slept when they were tired. The village was active day and night when the hunters were killing manatee.

The central structure would have been called a fort by the Europeans. The structure was built in the center of the village. The walls were made from palm tree trunks buried in the ground and lashed together with grapevine. The tree trunks were eight feet high, with bamboo scaffolding built around the inside. In the event of any attack on the village, Calusa archers could stand on the scaffold and quickly fire their arrows from behind the barricade. The land had been cleared for three hundred feet around this structure. This was done to destroy any cover an enemy could hide behind. There were over one hundred huts circling the fort.

The population of King Town at this time was four hundred. One hundred twenty of them were warriors, and twenty of the warriors were women. Woven palm-frond sacks containing corn were stacked neatly on a raised platform in one of the larger huts. The huts were built of cypress saplings buried in the ground, with a sleeping platform built of more saplings raised off the ground. The roofs and low sides were made of palm fronds.

Near the river, three older warriors were making flint tools and weapons. They were working near a small fire, where they were heating small pieces of flint. The hot flint was easier to work and shape. Two of the toolmakers had a deer hide apron across their knees and were shaping the heated flint with sharp pieces of deer antler. There were two doe deer carcasses hanging from a wooden structure, and two women were carefully separating the hide from the carcass.

Bowman, his chosen name, was scraping a long straight length of river maple, putting the final touches on a fishing bow. The maple bows were faster than the hickory, although the hickory would shoot an arrow much farther. A hickory war bow, sixty to eighty pounds of pull weight, would drive a war arrow halfway through a grown man’s chest at close range. They were formidable weapons. Most of the warriors had several of each type and were proud of their skill with them.

Panther laughed at six children splashing naked in the river. The sight of the children reminded him of his own childhood, spent playing in the river. King Town was a busy and happy place. It was soon to change.

The Spanish Inquisition began in 1478 and ended in 1834, with the approval and blessing of the Pope and his entourage. For reasons unknown, the Inquisition in Spain was more horrendous than in other European countries. In most cases, the tortured people, particularly the women, were a little smarter than their accusers. If a midwife knew how to ease the pain of childbirth or a nurse developed a concoction to help heal a wound without infection, they could be accused of practicing witchcraft. If someone did not obey the rigorous rules established by the church, they could be accused of being a heretic. Even talking about the church negatively could result in being charged with the crime of heresy, the definition of which had never been interpreted by the Vatican. Depending on the personality and brutality of the judges, the punishment for the above offenses could be a public beating, confiscation of property, or being burned alive at a stake in front of the townspeople.

Mateo Alvero was born in Rota Spain in 1682 to a loving mother and an uncaring father. Mateo’s mother was imprisoned when Mateo was ten years old, and he spent over two years in the brutal Spanish orphanages. Before his birth, Mateo’s mother, named Lorena, worked as a tutor for several different families in the Spanish aristocracy. Well educated, pretty, and bright, she was popular with the children and the parents. She was a solid member of the Catholic Church, a requirement if one wanted to be successful in the existing faith-based society.

Lorena’s mother had been a nurse. She received her initial training at the prestigious medical university in Rota. She received her real training working as a nurse in the military hospitals at Rota during the almost continuous wars between the European maritime powers. After twenty years of working as a nurse, Lorena’s mother opened her own small clinic. Lorena’s mother tutored Lorena and groomed her to follow in her footsteps.

Lorena and her mother developed techniques that would have been called witchcraft if the Catholic Church had become aware of them. They discontinued the popular procedure of bleeding patients. They burned the clothing of their patients and kept their patients clean. Their crude little clinic was kept clean. The infestation of rats, so common in Europe, was kept to a minimum. Of course, they had no knowledge of microorganisms or parasites, but their techniques worked. The survival rate of their patients was much higher than the nearby Rota hospitals.

The problems they faced from the church were minor. The main concern of the clergy was that Lorena’s mother kept the church’s involvement to a minimum and her procedures were kept secret from the church because of their probable disapproval. Lorena and her mother had discovered that the chants and incantations of the local clergy were useless. Lorena worked with her mother and continued tutoring the children of wealthy and prominent Spaniards. She prospered in her two endeavors and lived a comfortable, if not prominent, life.

Chapter 2

In October of 1690, Lorena was falsely accused of stealing by the jealous wife of an important and wealthy member of the church. She had neither defense nor acceptable alibi and was subsequently blacklisted by all her former clients. She was also excommunicated by the Catholic Church and then publicly beaten in the town square. Her punishment was mild because of her status in the community prior to her being accused. Lorena became a full-time assistant to her mother.

Being an attractive woman, though blacklisted by the church, Lorena slowly became what we would call today an escort or courtesan. Her clientele were some of the same men whose children she had tutored. She was well-known and popular and the wealthy Spanish men would display her proudly at the numerous social events occurring in Rota. If money was offered, she would sleep with her clients. She enjoyed participating in the social atmosphere of the Spanish affluent, and her client list included many wealthy Spaniards. Her reputation as a companion and a healer grew rapidly.

Late at night, a girl child came to Lorena in tears, accompanied by her mother. The girl and her mother told Lorena a pathetic story. The girl was thirteen years old. She had been raped by a Catholic priest repeatedly for a period of over a year. The priest had been a trusted family friend and was, in fact, the girl’s godfather. The perverted priest had convinced the girl child that the rape was a holy expression of love between Jesus, the girl, and himself. The mother and child had gone to the local authorities with their story. The local magistrate had dismissed her story as being a complete fabrication from an obvious slut, pregnant by a suitor. He did not want to upset the church under any circumstances.

She was now three months pregnant with the priest’s child. The girl and her mother had confronted the priest, who denied everything. When the girl and her mother told the priest they did not want the child of rape and would consider an abortion, the priest vehemently told the girl her pregnancy was the will of God and the girl would burn in eternal hell if the child was aborted. The girl and her mother went to the monsignor, who accused her of lying and being a little whore. He repeated the priest’s warning about the fires of hell.

Lorena counseled the distraught girl, convinced her she was an innocent victim, and agreed to perform an abortion. The girl, somewhat consoled by Lorena, agreed to the abortion. The abortion was performed the next day. Lorena kept the girl for observation for three days. There were no complications, and the girl was released to her family. For her own safety, Lorena insisted that the abortion remain a sacred secret among the three. The vow was solemnly accepted by the mother and her daughter.

The monsignor added this situation to a long list of believable accusations against the priest, and in spite of his claims of innocence, the priest was required to spend a week of fasting and prayer for forgiveness, a ridiculously minor punishment for the heinous crime of raping a child. He was then unceremoniously moved to another parish. The monsignor at the priest’s new location was not informed of the priest’s behavior, and the priest resumed his perversions with the children at his new parish.

In spite of the vows of secrecy taken by the mother, the child, and Lorena, a friend of the mother approached Lorena with a similar horror story. She had been raped and impregnated by her stepfather, a prominent merchant and respected member of the tight-knit Spanish elite. The stepfather admitted to the sexual encounter and blamed it on the girl, claiming she had enticed him. He refused to call it rape. The abortion was performed without incident. Again vows of secrecy were exchanged and sworn to.

The vows were basically ignored. Lorena’s reputation grew. She was very strict. Only in cases of rape or incest would she perform her procedures. She would not perform the abortions after the third month of conception. Lorena required sworn witnesses to support the story’s authenticity, with no exceptions. Her motivation was not necessarily the money. She had seen unwanted newborn babies bobbing with the current in the Rota canals. Being a kind and compassionate woman, she convinced herself the newborns were dead before they were thrown in to the canals.

In 1682, Lorena had given birth to a son she named Mateo. The father, whom she had cared for, would not recognize the child. He avoided Lorena and his son. When Mateo was ten years old, the wife of Mateo’s father discovered the infidelity. She also discovered the existence of Mateo and the occupation of Lorena. In a fit of jealousy, she falsely accused Mateo’s mother of witchcraft. The charge was substantiated by several paid witnesses. Three of the witnesses were women who had obtained abortions from Lorena.

Abortions under any circumstances were illegal as proclaimed by the church. There were no exceptions. The girls or women could have been gang raped, impregnated by incest, or had life-threatening complications associated with the pregnancy, but it made no difference to the clergy. Lorena was pronounced guilty by a Catholic priest. The priest was sanctioned by the Vatican to support the laws of the Inquisition, and he carried out his responsibilities with enthusiasm. Lorena was arrested and dragged to prison.

Burning at the stake had become unpopular in the larger Spanish cities, so Lorena was spared that agony. She was also not hanged in pubic, which was popular with the Spanish. She received a much harsher punishment; she was sentenced to life imprisonment in the brutal Spanish prison system. Mateo’s father, showing some small degree of compassion for the boy, had him taken to a Catholic orphanage where his mother’s reputation was known; and for a large fee, the orphanage accepted the boy. The father paid the orphanage yearly, and the son was treated a little better than the other children who had no sponsor.

The orphanage was a cruel and sometimes dangerous institution. Mateo was beaten badly by two of the older orphans on the first day of his arrival at the orphanage. He was different. He had nice clothes, and he had shoes. His shoes and nice coat were stolen from him by the two that had beaten him. They took turns wearing Mateo’s shoes and coat and tormented him without mercy. Mateo was different in other ways. He had enjoyed his childhood with his mother and had never had to beg and steal to survive, unlike most of the other children.

The classes were difficult. The priests enthusiastically taught the churches version of history, theology, and philosophy. They were not interested in the conflicting opinions of unwanted children. Mateo had argued with the priests until he convinced himself the priests were not interested in the truth. The punishments were severe and handed down for any infraction—real, perceived, or invented. Mateo was beaten often by the priests and spent many days confined to a small cell and fed bread and water.

The boy did learn something that was useful to himself but caused heartache for the priests. Mateo learned that he had a hidden but violent temper. One week after he had been in the orphanage, he confronted the two larger boys that had beaten him and stolen his shoes. Mateo approached the two who were smiling in anticipation of giving the new boy another good beating. Without saying a word, Mateo hit the larger boy in the throat with his balled-up fist. The boy, gasping for air, went down on his knees, holding his throat. The other boy turned sideways to help his friend, and Mateo hit him in his right kidney, knocking him to the ground in severe pain.

Not satisfied with what he had accomplished so far, Mateo repeatedly kicked both boys in the stomach and kidneys. As he was kicking them, he was seen by one of the more inhumane priests. The priest grabbed Mateo from behind and dragged the boy away from his victims. Mateo had attacked the two boys without threatening, yelling, or screaming. This had been a cold and calculated attack by Mateo. His countenance was quiet and controlled as he walked calmly beside the priest, who led him to the headmaster’s offices.

Mateo was deemed a troublemaker and restricted to a small cell and fed bread and water for a month. Upon his release, he discovered he had broken two ribs in the second boy he had attacked and the first one’s throat had swollen almost closed. The priests had prayed for the boy’s life. Mateo had almost killed him.

As soon as he was released, Mateo went to the two and calmly told them he wanted his shoes. They were in the dining hall when Mateo confronted them. There were close to fifty children in the dining hall, and they were being monitored by three priests. The boy wearing Mateo’s shoes refused to give them up, not wanting to appear cowardly in front of the other children. Mateo grabbed the boy’s cheap tin dinner plate with both hands and smashed it into the boy’s face edgewise, breaking the boy’s nose. The blood poured from the broken nose and soiled nearby children.

Mateo spent another month confined and starved. When Mateo was released from confinement, he found his shoes and coat sitting on his cot. The headmaster would have put Mateo out on the streets if not for the allowance given to the orphanage by Mateo’s father, some of which made it down to the benefit of Mateo. The boy developed the reputation of being a quiet loner, more content to read by himself than play with the other orphans, but not one to bully. Mateo protected the weaker younger children just by his presence and a soft-spoken word of warning to the bullies.

Mateo and his mother had been very close. They lived a modestly comfortable life in a small apartment near the ocean. Mateo went to sleep every night, listening to the soft murmur of the restless Atlantic Ocean. The boy spent many nights alone and was not uncomfortable. He had his books. His mother had read to him from the time he was an infant. Mateo’s favorite subject was history. They read about the Persian Wars, the Egyptian pharaohs, Genghis Kahn, and his unbelievable conquests. Mateo loved to read about the fierce Vikings, who had terrorized Europe just a few centuries before.

Mateo absorbed information like the desert would absorb a brief rain. His mother, aware of the boy’s unique intelligence, pushed him, encouraged him, and argued with him.

You will study Latin, she would insist.

Who was Plato? she would ask.

Tell me about Socrates and his contributions to the study of medicine.

You can’t read about the Persian Wars until you have read a chapter of the Iliad.

Lorena was a busy and popular woman; if she was not busy, she educated her son.

Diego Lucca was an ordained Jesuit priest. His father had also been a priest, and as a child, Diego had no ambition to do anything other than to follow in his father’s footsteps. He was a small, thin, almost emaciated-looking man with lively, sometimes twinkling brown eyes. He was forty-two years old. Diego’s father had completed his Jesuit training at the prestigious Catholic Church in Rota, Spain, and Diego went through the same rigorous process at the same church. Diego’s faith was ingrained and unshakeable.

Mateo was living at the church orphanage when he was observed by Father Diego Luca in the courtyard, reading a large heavy text. Mateo was surrounded by children his own age, who were playing and laughing as children did. The boy looked strong and healthy, and Diego wondered why he was not playing with the other children. Mateo was twelve years old when his life was changed by Diego Luca.

Diego approached the boy and began a conversation. What are you reading? the Jesuit asked, his manner and question showing genuine interest.

Mateo, looking mildly afraid, answered meekly in the cracked and soft voice of puberty, I’m reading about the travels and adventures of Marco Polo.

Are you enjoying the book?

Yes, I have read the book several times, but I always find something new.

May I see your book?

Mateo marked his place and handed the volume to Diego. Mateo was still apprehensive. He had never been approached by a Jesuit other than his teachers, and most of those encounters were not pleasant or friendly and did not end well.

Why are you not playing with the other children?

Mateo looked to where the other children were. I would rather just read, he answered weakly, in the voice of a child.

What other books interest you?

Mateo, realizing he was not in any trouble, became a little more comfortable with the priest. He answered as a young boy would, I like to read about the Vikings and the Crusades.

Ah, the Crusades. I love to read about the Crusades. Who is your favorite character? The boy’s answer surprised the Jesuit but grew his interest in continuing their conversation.

Saladin, the boy answered without hesitation.

But Saladin was a Muslim and slaughtered the Christians in Jerusalem.

Yes, he did, but the Christians tortured and slaughtered the Muslims first. Saladin got the Muslim tribes together to take Jerusalem back from the Christian Crusaders. The Crusaders were more vicious and ruthless than the Muslims. Saladin negotiated a truce with the Christians, led by King Richard, which resulted in the saving of the lives of many Crusaders. Saladin and the Muslims remained in control of Jerusalem as part of the truce.

I am getting a history lesson from the boy, thought Diego, impressed by the detail of the boy’s grasp of the Crusades’ history.

Diego had no argument, knowing the boy’s words were true. The Jesuit was fascinated by the fact that the church did not teach the real story, yet Mateo had just outlined it to him. But what really impressed the Jesuit was that the book Mateo was so engrossed in was written in Latin. Their conversation continued for another hour. They discussed the writings and beliefs of Aristotle, Socrates, and the transition toward reasoning and evidence outlined by Plato.

The brief encounter left a very favorable impression on Diego. As time permitted, Diego would seek out the boy. Soon their conversations become more often and more lively. The boy presented Diego with theology questions Diego soon had to answer with input from the monsignor and reference to the extensive library maintained by the church. Diego became the mentor for Mateo Alvero. Right after Mateo’s twelfth birthday, Diego sought out the monsignor, and they discussed the boy’s tragic background. The monsignor knew the harsh details of the boy’s brief childhood. Within two months, the boy was adopted by Diego.

Diego had taken his vows of chastity and poverty. However, he lived in a spacious expensive villa in the verdant hillside near Rota. His conscience was not bothered by his affluent lifestyle, because the villa had not been provided by the church. He had servants, housekeepers, cooks, and groundskeepers who were eager to tend to his every whim. He had no slaves.

Mateo was given a room in the villa of Diego. The Jesuit Diego mostly followed the strict rules of the Catholic society and had no wife. Diego was chaste within reasonable boundaries acceptable by the monsignor and the church. The monsignor enjoyed the same gray boundaries. Diego’s housekeeper—a prim, lively woman in her forties—took to Mateo as her own son. Her name was Maria. Sometimes she would sleep with Diego. Mateo took no notice or had no qualms about this lifestyle; he enjoyed his new circumstances and was glad to get away from the prisonlike conditions of the orphanage. Diego was from a wealthy shipping family, and he gave the boy a generous allowance, thinking the boy would share his good fortune with the poor of Rota.

When the boy was thirteen, Diego convinced him to become a Jesuit. Mateo began the arduous Jesuit training in the summer of 1695. He was not dedicated. Jesus had not found him, although the boy looked for him everywhere. He had not been called by God. Mateo was not what one could call devoted to the church. He was sincere enough to maintain a barely passable acceptance by the Jesuit hierarchy. The Jesuits’ training program was tedious at times. Mateo listened, with little or no interest, to the motivated Jesuit teachers when they discussed philosophy, religion, and theology. He could barely stay awake and was punished by the Jesuits for his lack of interest and zeal. But Mateo thrived on the historical and medical lectures.

The historical lectures were not entirely accurate; they were obviously biased to stress the goodwill of the church. Any information detrimental to the church was not taught or was briefly mentioned as if it had no significance. The bias and falsehood were barely noticed by most of the other students. Mateo had studied history with his mother for years and knew when the Jesuits were not being entirely truthful and when they were lying. Mateo was considered a mediocre, if not poor, student.

Mateo thrived on the medical lectures. He was fascinated by the human body and its complexity. The Jesuits were well trained in medical procedures. They were all expected, at some time in their career, to become missionaries and spread the Word of God to the pagans. As he grew older and more mature, the training became more detailed. At sixteen, Mateo was introduced to the use of cadavers, readily available from the poor and unwanted deceased residents of Rota. The fresh cadavers, male and female, were obtained from the hospitals and prisons of Rota. Some of the cadavers, male and female, were missing their heads. Beheading of prisoners was becoming a popular public spectacle again.

Mateo grew. At sixteen, he was a large youth. His shoulder were broad, his waist narrow. He was not what one would call muscular. His arms, legs, and chest were large but soft. The soft life of the Jesuits was not conducive for developing muscles. Mateo, from some unknown genetic accident, had been born with eyes of a deep blue. The color of his eyes was striking and unusual for the dark Spanish. He had the dark Spanish complexion and an embarrassing amount of hair on his body. Mateo enjoyed the soft life of the aristocracy; he dressed well, in the woolen and silk garments customary in Rota.

Chapter 3

When he was seventeen years old, the boy began to frequent the bustling Rota waterfront. He would wander along the piers and warehouses, sit in the dark smoky bars of Rota, and listen to the sailors’ tales of their adventures in the New World. The boy was fascinated. Rota, Spain, was a popular destination for the French, Spanish, Portuguese, and even some occasional Italian merchant ships. Dozens of ships were tied alongside the worn and tilted pilings, their rigging creaking and slapping with the movement of the tides and winds. Live horses, cattle, and pigs were noisy at their marketing stalls, terrified at the surrounding din. The sailors yelled their obscenities and orders to the stevedores, who would reply just as vigorously. There was an unspoken truce between the warring nations when the ships were in port.

Open-air market stalls displayed the chickens, ducks, and geese hanging upside down with their throats slit, the owners unsuccessfully keeping the flies off them. The huge draft horses pulled their burdens through the narrow street, their sheer size opening the crowded path ahead of them. The alleys were lined with open urinals for the men to piss in, and the ladies were provided with a hole where they could squat, gather their skirts around them, and relieve themselves with what passed for privacy. Open sewers ran alongside the backstreets, and the smell of shit was overwhelming. Horse shit, cow shit, pig shit, and human shit—all were mingled from their own particular smell into one unique breathtaking shit smell.

Sometimes Mateo would take his pint of rum outside the bars just to watch the people from the different countries. The Arab traders wore their colorful turbans as they bustled about, always in a hurry, always busy with some important business. Their language was a great mystery to Mateo. The vibrant colors of the clothing of West African visitors were a sharp contrast to the drab grays and beiges of the Europeans. The Rota waterfront was a busy, noisy, colorful, and sometimes dangerous place. Mateo spent all his free time near the busy wharves and bars, fascinated by the never-ending activity.

The Catholic Church ran the city of Rota. Most of the businesses in Rota were owned or financed by the church. The merchant ships paid a percentage of their profits to the church as their cargoes were loaded or unloaded. Representatives from the church were there, waiting as the transactions occurred, making detailed accountings of money that changed hands. Two-story hotels with bars below were owned or controlled by the church. The hotels charged the whores a percentage of their profits. In retrospect, the Rota whores reluctantly paid a percentage of their income to the monsignor at Rota. The church hierarchy publicly denounced the whores as hopeless sinners, but privately welcomed their contributions. The Spanish police were encouraged to ignore the girls unless they became unruly or troublesome.

Soon Mateo was a welcome patron of the Whaler’s Inn, a popular waterfront bar. He would pay cash for his tankard of rum, sit quietly in the back, and cause no trouble. The owners of the bar welcomed Mateo; he brought a more subdued atmosphere to the rough and dangerous establishment. There were fewer fights, less killings. Even the most vicious and drunken sailors were reluctant to cause any trouble with a priest present.

The youth always wore the thick drab woolen garments of the Jesuits. He did not wear them to display his status as a Jesuit; he wore them for reasons of his safety. Most of the rough and dangerous sailors were Catholics and would never consider robbing or fighting with a Jesuit. The sailors, with good reason, were very afraid of the church and the potential wrath that could fall upon them if a Jesuit should be harmed in any way. Mateo was always invited to sit with the sailors. His presence made the rough crowd more serene, almost holy.

The whores of Rota were famous throughout Europe, not for their beauty and intelligence, but because of their diversity. There were whores from almost every European country. They came from West Africa, from Ireland; the blondes from the North Atlantic were especially popular. Belly dancers from the Muslim countries were the standard entertainment. They all enjoyed a thriving business. The whores proudly displayed their breasts to anyone who looked to be over twelve years old. They bragged about their sexual expertise with any and all who showed interest. Many of them lived above the busy bars, in small and smelly rooms convenient to take their clients.

On one of his excursions, a pretty young whore caught Mateo’s eye, and they would talk occasionally. She was a talented actress. When a potential client arrived, she would go to them; laugh at their worn, filthy jokes; let them fondle her; and eventually take them upstairs. She knew the exact time to moan and shiver with feigned orgasm. Her name was Lucia.

Lucia was a pretty girl. Her ancestry was Basque, and she had inherited their dark and mysterious beauty. She was petite and thin, with ample breasts and a small waist. Her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and she could make her eyes sparkle and her white teeth show at any filthy joke or crude attempts to grope her. Unusual for the whores, Lucia kept herself very clean. She did not smell like cheap wine and leftover sex and sweat as most of the other girls did.

The young girl was intrigued by Mateo; he had never touched her or made any attempt to seduce her. He was always polite and treated her with a respect she found refreshing and unusual. He did not stare at her barley hidden breasts or undress her with his eyes, but he watched her. She had caught him watching her several times. When Lucia was not busy, she would sit near Mateo, and they would talk.

On one such occasion, Lucia asked Mateo, Do you not think I am pretty?

Mateo answered her honestly, I think you are beautiful, especially your eyes. You have beautiful eyes.

Lucia had been told this many times. Like most attractive women, her beauty came at a high price. She had fought off the advances of men since she was twelve years old. She had been raped twice and beaten badly by a drunken Portuguese naval officer who professed to love her as he was beating her.

The compliment from the priest seemed more meaningful and more truthful. She was very pleased by his response. She became more comfortable with Mateo and moved closer to him, their knees almost touching.

She asked him, Why are you so sad and quiet?

I am not sad. I am just quiet. I am interested in the New World, and like to sit with and listen to the sailors talk about their adventures.

Do you have a wife or girlfriend?

No, I am training to be a Jesuit, and I can have no wife or girlfriend.

Lucia did not tell him that some of her best customers were priests and Jesuits. Her Jesuit and priest clients had their own special concealed entrance in the back of the bar; they were never seen in the company of the regular patrons. She was very discreet about her relationships with the clergy and wished to continue them.

Would you like to make love to me? I can make you happy. Have you ever been with a woman?

Lucia was surprised by Mateo’s response. Most men lied to her, wanting to impress her with the number of women they had seduced.

I have never been with a woman. As a Jesuit, making love to you would break the vows I have made to the church and the brotherhood of the Jesuits.

He is a virgin, she thought to herself. How interesting. Lucia noticed the young priest becoming embarrassed, so she changed the subject.

Do you want to see the New World? Are you not afraid?

I’m not afraid. I would like to see the New World, and to me, it is fascinating.

Do you have family here?

I have no mother or father. I live with a Jesuit priest. My mother and father are dead, Mateo lied, not wanting to discuss the details of his mother and father with his new friend.

Lucia saw a potential customer enter the bar, and she decided to leave Mateo for the meantime. As she was leaving, she asked him, Will you come see me again soon?

I enjoy talking to you. I’ll be back soon, and we will talk more.

Mateo left to wander the Rota waterfront. For some reason, he did not want to watch Lucia go upstairs with her drunken client.

Mateo was back at the Whaler’s Inn three days later. Lucia was with a table full of Portuguese sailors newly arrived from Lisbon. They had been buying her the watered-down drinks and wanting to take her upstairs for free. Lucia had grown irritated at them and went to Mateo’s table. To avoid any jealousy or problems from the Portuguese, she told them Mateo was her priest and he would hear her confession. The Portuguese, being devout Catholics, accepted her departure with no hard feelings. The Portuguese left the Whaler’s Inn to find a cheaper whore.

Mateo treated her differently today. He watched her closer, his eyes stayed on her breasts, and he watched her sit. Lucia, recognizing the signs from Mateo, deliberately exposed more of her pretty legs as she sat near him.

They made small talk for a few minutes, and then she told him, Take me upstairs. I want to make love to you.

Lucia was twenty-five years old and proud to take the virginity of the handsome, well-built youth. After weeks of frequent visits, Mateo and the girl forged a special relationship. He would pay her. Then they would pray and ask for forgiveness for what they were about to do. Then they would make love. Afterward, they would kneel at the foot of her bed and ask for forgiveness again. They held hands and performed this quiet ritual with the solemnest devotion, as if they were in the sanctity of church.

Soon her quiet moans of sexual pleasure were not forced or faked. Mateo, being a healthy and virile young man, spent most of his allowance on Lucia. The girl accepted their unusual ritual with no hesitation and participated eagerly. In her brief career, she had seen and participated in much worse. Lucia saw no future in the relationship; she was content to continue her friendship with no expectations.

The girl did take the time to teach him something priceless: she taught him how to arouse a woman. She taught him where to touch her, where to kiss her, where to linger with his hands or tongue, how to gently caress and hold her. She loved to lie on her stomach with her legs spread and have him slowly stroke her from her neck to her calves. Mateo could make her wet and eager for him to enter her. After they were both sated, Mateo would hold her tightly and continue to caress her. They never spoke of love.

One memorable afternoon, they lay together in her bed after two hours of ardent lovemaking. The weather was cold and rainy, and the normal hustle and bustle of the Rota waterfront was quiet. Lucia reluctantly informed Mateo, I must wash and leave you soon. I have business with a rich client.

To the delight of Lucia, Mateo rose from her warm bed, went to her washbasin, and dampened a soft cloth. After warming the cloth at her small charcoal stove, Mateo washed her. He started at her face and neck then moved down to her soft breasts and stomach. He then had her open her legs for him, and he washed the wetness from her still-sensitive groin, legs, and thighs. He then had her roll over on her stomach, and he washed her neck, shoulders, and the back of her groin, thighs, and legs. Lucia became wet again, wanting Mateo back inside of her. Lucia had never before felt such a sensuous or erotic sensation.

The gentle loving touch of Mateo had warmed the heart of the young whore. Lucia loved him a little. She would daydream about a possible life together with Mateo. Her daydreams were brief and had no happy ending. He was a Jesuit; she was a whore. They would have no life together. She knew Mateo loved her a little, but he shared the same reality as she did. They had no realistic future, and they would share the moment.

Lucia’s prices were reasonable. Like all commodities, her prices changed depending on demand. Her rates would double when the larger warships arrived, filled with men who had spent months at sea. After she and Mateo had a month-long relationship, she no longer asked Mateo for money. He always left her with money, and she would accept it, but she kept it in a hidden place in her small apartment. She thought of Mateo’s gifts of money as special, as if they were gifts from a lover or husband.

Mateo would leave the bar after he had made love to Lucia. It hurt him to see her with another client. The youth was a welcome change from the drunken, smelly sailors who were Lucia’s normal clientele. Diego knew of the boy’s adventures and said nothing, not wanting to appear hypocritical because of his own relationship with his housekeeper.

There were not very many slaves in Rota. The city was completely out of the slave routes. There was no auction block or slave’s warehouse. The few slaves were treated well; they were owned by the wealthy Spanish aristocracy and displayed as proof of wealth and status. They were dressed well in clear bright colors meant to attract attention. Many had been born into slavery and knew no other life; they were called dandies. Some were even proud to be owned by the wealthier families and bragged about their owner’s success as if they themselves were family members. They enjoyed a special status among the slave community. Being young and somewhat naive, Mateo thought all slaves would be treated as they were in Rota.

Diego Lucca was one of the descendants of a wealthy shipping family. Diego had no interest in the business and was content to enjoy the wealth and status with very little input to the success. The church was his life. Diego’s brother ran the business. The family owned numerous ships. Most of them were large brigs, and two of them had been modified to transport slaves. The two ships and competent, experienced captains and crew made the run from Rota to the castle in Havana regularly, making huge profits. The large Spanish fort in Havana was the auction house for the Caribbean slave trade. From Cuba, the ships took their human cargo to Charleston, where the demand for slaves was insatiable. Cotton was loaded in Charleston and delivered to Rota and Valencia, where the demand for cotton was also insatiable.

Diego’s brother’s name was Alfred. Diego and Alfred were good friends as well as brothers. Alfred knew the protégé of Diego and also knew of their interest in the New World; in February of 1700, Alfred sent a messenger to Diego and invited his brother and Mateo to dine with him. After they had eaten, Alfred discussed the purpose of his invitation. There is an opportunity for both of you to travel to the New World, specifically to the Spanish possession called Florida. I have obtained a shallow-draft brigantine for the purpose of exploring the central west coast of Florida. The ship will sail for St. Augustine in April of this year.

Immediately interested, Diego asked, Why so early in the year?

Alfred elaborated, The Caribbean storms usually don’t form until July or August. The ship is smaller and faster than the brigs but may not handle the rough seas as well. I don’t want to risk losing a ship.

Diego asked, Why will the ship go to St. Augustine? The fort has just been completed.

Alfred answered, I know the fort is still under construction, but they have facilities to replenish our ships.

Mateo asked, How long will the voyage take?

Alfred answered, If you want to go, there is space for you. You can expect to be gone for two years at least. If the new captain, Martine, successfully captures slaves in west Florida, the ship will sell its cargo of slaves in New Orleans, sail to Havana and obtain more slaves, take them to Charleston for sale, then pick up a cargo of cotton, and return to Rota. Depending on what Martine discovers, we may send more ships to west Florida. The captain will have three challenges—map the west central Florida coast, establish a fort, and capture slaves from the unknown savage tribes.

Diego commented, I must discuss this with the monsignor and the bishop, and I will need their approval.

Alfred quickly replied, I would expect that, and I also expect the church to wholeheartedly agree.

Mateo asked Alfred, How far is it to St. Augustine?

Alfred replied somewhat reluctantly, Four thousand miles, with favorable winds, a six-week voyage.

After a brief discussion, the Jesuit and his protégé both accepted the generous offer. They left Alfred’s spacious villa with different priorities: Diego was delighted at the prospect of saving souls and continuing gods work. Mateo was delighted at the prospect of adventure and exploration.

The following day, Diego formally met with the bishop and discussed their proposed voyage. The bishop wholeheartedly gave his approval and blessing. After the discussion, the bishop wrote a discrete, wax-sealed letter to his cardinal and told him about his new glorious ideas for expansion of the church in the New World. The cardinal was delighted at the bishop’s ideas and promised the full support of the church.

The Luca family owned many ships. One of the newest and smallest was the brigantine Mary Ann. The ship had been purposely modified by Alfred for exploration and the transfer of a small number of slaves. The ship was 120 feet long with a 28-foot beam. The brigantine normally carried a crew of 30 to 40. The ship had been modified to contain 80 slaves, which was a very low number; some of the larger brigs could carry hundreds. The crew consisted of 7 officers; a drunken self-proclaimed doctor, who did have some documented medical training and experience; 30 experienced sailors; and most importantly, 20 trained Spanish mercenary soldiers.

The soldiers had been recruited from the infamous Spanish prisons. Most of them were serving long sentences for minor perceived crimes against the church, such as heresy or blasphemy. They were promised forgiveness of their crime, absolution from the church, and a share of the profits. Their task would be to establish and maintain a small fort and buy or capture slaves from the local savages. The brigantine had a draft of twelve feet and could sail in much shallower water than the larger brigs. She carried ten small cannons, five on each side. She also carried two swivel guns—one located on the bow and the other on the stern.

Chapter 4

The captain of the Mary Ann was named Martine. Martine had the reputation of being a well-respected and admired second officer on numerous successful slave ships. He was thirty-five years old, was a graduate of the famed Spanish merchant marine academy, and had been at sea for twenty years. He had begun his career as a midshipman when he was fifteen years old. He was eager and anxious to have his own command.

In April of 1700, they left on their great adventure. His Eminence, the bishop, was there with an entourage of Diego’s colleagues from the church. The bishop kissed Diego on both cheeks and wished him godspeed. Mateo and Lucia had said goodbye the night before in their special intimate way. She did not embarrass him by seeing him off at the waterfront. She had grown fond of the boy and would actually miss him. She had shed genuine tears after their last night’s romance. More important than seeing Mateo depart, a large Spanish man-of-war had docked in Rota that morning with over one hundred lonely sailors and soldiers aboard. The Rota whores would be busy for weeks; Mateo would understand. There was no one there at the docks to watch Mateo leave. He had made few friends and had no family. Mateo had been told about his father but had neither feeling nor interest in him.

Mateo’s mother had languished in the Spanish prisons for three years and died of what they called consumption, which was really tuberculosis. Mateo visited her every week without fail and gave her all his allowance. She could purchase food at the prison commissary, and Mateo’s gifts prevented her from starvation. He watched her health deteriorate and was helpless. The boy was fifteen years old when Diego had told the boy of the death of his mother. The boy had grieved and been inconsolable for weeks.

The distance from Rota to St. Augustine was over four thousand miles. Martine had been given very explicit orders by Alfred. The ship would resupply at the Spanish fort at St. Augustine. They would then follow the well-known east coast of Florida to Key West. From Key West, they would sail north to Tampa Bay and start exploring the west coast of Florida from Tampa to Tallahassee. They were to avoid any conflict with any of the other maritime powers, establish and maintain a deep-water port somewhere north of Tampa, and capture slaves from the unorganized indigenous tribes of savages thought to inhabit the west coast of Florida.

Without formal declaration of war or a royal decree from the French or Spanish bureaucracy, the two countries had been attacking and slaughtering each other for years, especially on the high seas. Slave ships were especially vulnerable and attractive targets. Most slave ships carried very few cannon and would give up their human cargo and ships without a fight. Normally, the ships and their crew would be pressed into the service of the victor.

And so they left Spain for St. Augustine. They sailed early in the morning to catch the outgoing tide and soon cleared the small harbor of Rota. They carried live pigs, chickens, geese, and ducks to be consumed during the voyage. The ship was a noisy, smelly craft. The Atlantic was fairly calm with a brisk westerly wind on the day they left. The brigantine could sail much closer to the wind than the larger ships, and they made good time. Three days out from Rota, they were spotted by three Portuguese men-of-war bound for Lisbon. They were approached and inspected by one of the Portuguese ships and were allowed to pass without incident. The Mary Ann carried ten small cannons and posed no threat to the well-armed Portuguese.

The trip from Rota took five weeks, a little faster than a normal crossing. Ten days out of Rota, they had caught the north end of an early tropical storm. The center of the storm had passed through Cuba and done some minor damage to the Havana harbor. Unaware of the storm’s location or intensity, the captain wisely decided to head northwest to escape the building winds. They rode the high wind for four days, causing no damage other than most of the passengers, including Mateo and Diego, staying seasick for the duration of the storm. As the winds died and the sea calmed, Martine turned his ship back to a west-southwest course.

Diego Luca had traveled extensively. Having free access to the ships owned by the family business, Diego had visited many of the European ports frequented by his brother’s ships. He had no illusions about how the slaves were captured and treated. Gibraltar was one of his favorite European ports. Being near the Atlantic and fairly well immune to the constant maritime wars, Gibraltar