In addition, the giant Indians provided a welcome source of companionship and distraction for the crew members from the bleakness of the empty landscape. Everything about their customs and appearance fascinated Pigafetta. “Verily those giants stand straighter than a horse, and are very jealous of their wives,” he observed. “They wear a cotton cord around their head, to which they fasten their arrows when they go hunting, and bind their member close to their body by reason of the very great cold.”
There was more: “When these giants have a pain in the stomach, instead of taking medicine, they put down their throat an arrow two feet or thereabout in length, then they vomit [matter] of a green color mingled with blood. And the reason they bring up this green matter is that they eat thistles.”
And still more: “When they have a headache, they make a cut across their forehead, and the same on the arms and legs, to draw blood from several parts of their body.”
Most of all, their belief system fascinated Pigafetta, who recorded a vivid glimpse into the inner lives of the Tehuelche Indians. “When one of them dies, ten or twelve devils appear,” he came to understand, “and dance around the dead man. And it seems they are painted. And one of these devils is taller than the others. And from this the giants took the fashion of painting themselves on the face and body.” Pigafetta learned a few words of their language to better understand these concepts. The big devil, they told him, was called Setebos, a name to be reckoned with, and the little ones Cheleule.
Eventually, Magellan gave the Indians a name—Pathagoni, a neologism suggesting the Spanish word patacones, or dogs with great paws, by which he meant to call attention to their big feet, made even larger by the rough-hewn boots they wore. So these were the Bigfeet Indians, according to Magellan, who later gave the name to the whole region, known ever since as Patagonia.
Now that they had a name, the giants came to seem even more human to Magellan and his crew, who, as Pigafetta describes, made friends with one in particular. “This giant,” he wrote, “was of better disposition than the others, and was very graceful and amiable, loving to dance and leap. And when dancing he depressed the earth to a palm’s depth in the spot where his feet touched. He was with us for a long time, and in the end, we baptized him, naming him John.”
In this instance, the solemn rite was undertaken as a sign of kinship rather than of conquest. “The said giant pronounced the name Jesus, the paternoster, Ave Maria, and his own name as clearly as we,” Pigafetta related. “He had a terribly loud and strong voice.” What these incantations meant to John the Giant can only be imagined, but he no doubt associated them with the lavish gifts he received from Magellan. “The captain gave him a shirt and a cloth jerkin, and seamen’s breeches, a cap, a mirror, a comb, bells, and other things, and sent him away whence he had come; and he went off very joyous and happy.” The new convert returned the next day, bearing precious guanacos, and received still more gifts in trade, but then he was not seen or heard from again. “It is to be supposed that the other giants killed him because he had come to us.”
This was pure conjecture. The crew found no evidence that John had been killed or ostracized for fraternizing, but their fear that he had been harmed for this reason betrayed how wary they were of the Indians, friendly or not. Relations with the Patagonian giants deteriorated when a European scouting party unearthed a cache of Indian weapons. The discovery suggested that an ambush might be in the making. All thought of further baptisms were forgotten as the crew members feared for their lives and sought the safety of the ships. For two weeks, no giants were seen, and Magellan decided it was time to change his tactics.
On July 28, four Patagonian giants, two men and two boys, appeared at the water’s edge, signaling to the fleet that they wished to come aboard. This was just the opportunity Magellan had been awaiting. A longboat was dispatched to bring the four unsuspecting Indians aboard Trinidad. Magellan bestowed presents on his guests—“knives, scissors, mirrors, bells, and glass”—and while the four held them and marveled at them, “the captain sent for large iron fetters, such as are put on the feet of malefactors.” Two of the giants were shackled. Even Pigafetta recoiled at the sight, disdainfully remarking that Magellan had resorted to a “cunning trick.” For once, the expedition’s official chronicler found it painful to watch Magellan’s scheme unfold.
Instead of resisting, “The giants took great pleasure in seeing these fetters, and did not know where they had to be put, and they were grieved that they could not take them in their hands.” The two giants who were still free tried to undo the fetters, but Magellan refused to allow them to interfere. Still naïvely trusting the cunning stranger in their midst, the giants “made a sign with their heads that they were content with this.” Magellan saw to it that their bellies were full, offering them “a large boxful of biscuit, and unskinned rats, and . . . half a pailful of water at a time.” At this point in the journey, the rats were nothing more than a nuisance to the sailors. Whenever they caught one of the little beasts, they tossed it into the sea. Seeing this waste of perfectly good food, the giants begged to have them, and devoured them whole.
Magellan then proceeded with his plan. “Forthwith the captain had the fetters put on the feet of both of them. And when they saw the bolt across the fetters being struck with a hammer to rivet it and prevent them from being opened, these giants were afraid. But the captain made signs to them that they should suspect nothing. Nevertheless, perceiving the trick that had been played on them, they began to blow and foam at the mouth like bulls, loudly calling on Setebos (that is, the great devil) to help them.”
Confusion engulfed both parties. Magellan underwent a sudden change of heart and decided against imprisoning the giants. He ordered a detachment of nine guards under the command of Carvalho, Concepción’s pilot, to escort two of the giants ashore, and to reunite one of them with the woman assumed to be his wife “because he was greatly lamenting her.” As soon as his feet touched dry land, this giant managed to escape, “running with so much nimbleness that our men lost sight of him.” Carvalho’s detachment feared he would tell others about the trick that had been played on them, and the tribe would return, seeking revenge.
The downward spiral of brutality continued. “The other giant who had his hands bound made the utmost effort to free himself, so that to prevent him one of our men struck him and wounded his head, at which he was violently angry.” In an effort to calm him, the crew members led him to the huts where the women had taken refuge, but this gesture failed to bring about peace between the Indians and the sailors.
That night, Carvalho, still in charge of the detachment, decided they would sleep ashore. In the morning, the giants’ huts were deserted; all the Indian men and women had fled into the interior, perhaps for good, perhaps to regroup for a surprise attack.
Their intentions became clear when arrows began whizzing from the dark forest. Suddenly nine Indian warriors appeared. Each carried three quivers of arrows held in leather girdles. With fluid movements, they fired off one deadly arrow after another. “Fighting thus, one of these giants pierced one of our men in the thigh, who died immediately. Whereupon seeing him dead they all fled.” The fallen crew member was Trinidad’s Diego Barrasa. The suddenness of his death suggests that the arrow carried a poisoned tip.