That was not all. It would be Cartagena’s job to “see to it carefully that the bartering and trading of said fleet is done to the greatest possible advantage to our estates.” He would have to check every entry in every book, and once it met his approval, sign off on it. At every step, he was to exercise “much care and vigilance.” And it was certainly in his interest to do so, because he had invested his own funds in the expedition. This provision made Magellan responsible to Cartagena for all commercial decisions. The wording (“to the greatest possible advantage to our estates”) enabled Cartagena to step in at any moment and prevent Magellan from enriching himself, even if he believed he was entitled to do so under his own contract with King Charles. Implicitly, these new instructions to Cartagena took precedence over the prior arrangement.
There was more. Cartagena was to function as the eyes and ears of the king throughout the voyage. “You will advise us fully and specifically of the manner in which our instructions and mandates are complied with in said lands; of our justices; of the treatment of natives of said lands; . . . [and] how said captains and officers”—meaning, especially, Magellan and Faleiro—“observe our instructions, and other matters of our service.” If the co-commanders were negligent in any way, Cartagena was to report their behavior to the Casa de Contratación in writing. The instructions were so thorough that a Spaniard predisposed to mistrust Magellan and Faleiro could conclude that he, and not they, had the final say on the conduct of the entire voyage.
And that was exactly the conclusion to which Cartagena came.
Even as he undercut Magellan’s authority, King Charles remained concerned about the possibility of open conflict between Spain and Portugal and tried his hand at personal diplomacy. Writing to Manuel from Barcelona in February 28, 1519, Charles confessed, “I have been informed by letters which I have received by persons near you that you entertain some fear that the fleet which we are dispatching to the Indies, under the command of Ferdinand Magellan and Ruy Faleiro, might be prejudicial to what pertains to you in those parts of the Indies”—which was putting it mildly. Charles continued. “In order that your mind may be freed from anxiety, I thought to write to you to inform you that our wish has always been, and is, duly to respect everything concerning the line of demarcation which was settled and agreed upon with the Catholic king and queen my sovereigns and grandparents.” And he vowed that “our first charge and order to the said commanders is to respect the line of demarcation and not to touch in any way, under heavy penalties, any regions of either lands or seas which were assigned to and belong to you by the line of demarcation.”
On May 8, 1519, amid frenzied preparations for departure, King Charles delivered his final instructions for the voyage to Magellan and Faleiro, instructions so detailed that the two commanders might have thought the king would be coming along with them in one of the ships.
Magellan and Faleiro were ordered to record every landfall and landmark they attained, and if they came across any inhabited lands, they were to “try and ascertain if there is anything in that land that will be to our interest.” They were also to treat humanely any indigenous peoples they happen to find, if only to make it possible for the fleet to assure its supply of food and water. Magellan could seize any Arabs he found in the Portuguese hemisphere—an implicit admission that he might violate the Treaty of Tordesillas, after all—and, if he wished, sell them for slaves. In contrast, if Magellan came across Arabs in the Spanish hemisphere, he was to treat them well and to make treaties with their leaders. Only if they were belligerent could Magellan subject them to punishment, as a warning. But this was not in any sense a slaving expedition. Magellan was to go in search of spices and lands, and nothing else, and when he reached the Spice Islands, his instructions were to “make a treaty of peace or commerce with the king or lord of that land” before he attempted to load the goods onto his ships.
Although the king warned Magellan to be careful in his dealings with Indians (“Beware you do not trust the natives because sometimes, on account of going unarmed, disasters happen”), the orders insisted that Magellan treat them fairly. “You shall not cheat them in any way, and . . . you shall not break [the deal]. . . . You shall not consent in any manner that any wrong or harm be done to them . . . ; rather, you shall punish those who do harm.”
And on a sensitive point, Magellan and Faleiro had to see to it that the crew members had no contact with local women. “You shall never consent to have anyone touch a woman . . . the reason being that in all those parts the people, on account of this thing over and above all, might rebel and do harm.” That order would prove impossible to enforce, as would another clause prohibiting the use of firearms; members of the expedition were forbidden to discharge them in newly found lands lest they terrify the Indians on whose goodwill they would depend. It was another well-intended but impractical edict; if the men had weapons, they would use them.
The orders spelled out what Magellan should do in the event that one of the ships became separated from the fleet: “They should wait a month at the place agreed before and leave a sign which will consist of five rocks put on the ground forming a cross on both sides of the river, and another cross of sticks. You will also leave something written in a receptacle buried in the ground indicating the time and date the ship came by.”
The orders also covered minor, but important matters. Sailors, for instance, had permission to write whatever they wished in their letters home; fortunately for future historians of this voyage, there was to be no censorship. Blasphemy, on the other hand, was forbidden aboard ship (Magellan found it impossible to enforce this directive), as were card and dice players. Since these items were ubiquitous aboard the ships of discovery, it is unlikely that Magellan bothered to discourage games of chance, but he may have succeeded in preventing professional gamblers and cardsharps from enlisting in the crew and fleecing the other crew members during the voyage.
In addition to Magellan and Faleiro, the co-commanders of the expedition, a copy of these orders was sent to Cartagena, in his capacity of inspector general. And it is possible that Cartagena, with his exalted impression of his role, took these orders to mean that the king of Spain now considered him equal in rank to Magellan.
King Manuel made one more attempt to subvert the Armada de Molucca. He sent his agent, Sebastián Álvares, a factor, to Seville, with orders to undo Magellan’s resolve. On July 18, 1519, Álvares secretly reported that the officials at the Casa de Contratación “cannot stomach” Magellan. The artful spy spoke vaguely but provocatively of disputes between the Casa de Contratación and Magellan concerning the sailors’ salaries. And he recounted his own efforts to persuade Magellan to call off the expedition: “I went to the lodgings of Magellan, where I found him arranging baskets and boxes with victuals of preserves and other things”—delicacies to be enjoyed by the expedition’s leaders rather than the crew. Álvares began a carefully rehearsed argument to persuade Magellan to abandon his nefarious scheme. I wished to recall to his memory how many times, as a good Portuguese and his friend, I had spoken to him, and opposed the great error he was committing. . . . I always told him . . . that he should see that this road has as many dangers as a St. Catherine’s Wheel.” According to the oft-repeated legend, Emperor Maxentius, a fierce pagan, captured a young convert to Christianity named Catherine in A.D. 305. It was said that fifty philosophers tried to persuade her that her belief in Christianity was foolish, but Catherine, despite her youth, confounded their arguments and converted them to the faith. Maxentius ordered those unlucky philosophers put to death, and Catherine was sent to prison, where the emperor’s wife visited her and also converted to Christianity. At that, the emperor decided that Catherine herself must die. He ordered a wheel embedded with razors to be constructed; Catherine was bound to its rim, but instead of slicing her to pieces, the wheel shattered, and its splinters and razors injured the onlookers. In despair, the emperor finally ordered Catherine beheaded. If Magellan did not desire to suffer the fate of Catherine, Álvares urged him to “return to his native country and the favor of your Highness, where he would always receive benefits.”