The fleet remained anchored off Brunei for six peaceful days, allowing the men to recover, at least partially, from the violence that had marked the last few weeks. From the decks of their ships, the men could see an assortment of elevated houses constructed over a complicated series of waterways, piers, and boardwalks. Behind the city, tall palms stood as sentries. At night, dim fires flickered in the distance and sent slender plumes skyward. If the sailors listened carefully, they could hear faint voices from the shore echoing across the surface of the water, or even a kind of primitive music consisting of gongs and bells and chanting. It was a scene of domestic tranquillity transplanted to an exotic setting, but the men were afraid to leave their ships and explore the unknown.
The fleet’s isolation ended when their benefactor dispatched a convoy of proas to beguile and seduce them. Arriving “with great pomp,” Pigafetta wrote, they “encircled the ships with musical instruments playing and drums and brass gongs beating. They saluted us with their peculiar cloth caps which cover only the top of their heads. We saluted them by firing our mortars without stones [bullets]. Then they gave us a present of various kinds of food, made only of rice. Some were wrapped in leaves and were made in somewhat longish pieces, some resembled sugarloaves, while others were made in the manner of tarts with eggs and honey. They told us that their king was willing to let us get water and wood, and to trade at our pleasure.”
The king’s messenger promised to help them with all their needs. “The messenger was an old man,” de Mafra recalled, “handsome and well-dressed. He wore gold jewelry on his fingers, neck, and ears.” He wanted to know where they were going, and when they spoke of the Moluccas, he scoffed; there was nothing there but cloves, he advised, but if they were determined to go, he would supply a pilot for each ship. “For this our men thanked him, and then asked whether there was in that land any pitch with which to caulk the ships.” After months in tropical water, the hulls badly needed reconditioning. The messenger explained that “they caulked their own boats with a pitch they made with coconut oil and wax, for which they could send out some people to town, where they could find many things to buy.” And again he invited the men to stay awhile and sample the pleasures of Brunei.
The repeated entreaties from the mysterious island ruler eventually had their intended effect, and the crew members reciprocated by sending a delegation consisting of Gonzalo Gómez de Espinosa, the master-at-arms, still on the job; Elcano, the would-be Captain General; two Greek sailors; Carvalho’s illegitimate Brazilian son; Pigafetta; and one other sailor. The delegation transferred from Trinidad to the proa, bearing gifts salvaged from the wreckage of the fleet: “a green velvet robe made in the Turkish manner, a violet velvet chair, five brazas of cloth, a cap, a gilded drinking glass, a covered glass vase, three writing books of paper, and gilded writing case.” The crew thoughtfully brought along separate tributes for the queen, should there be one: “Three brazas of yellow cloth, a pair of silvered shoes, and a silvered needle case full of needles.”
After a short trip over water, the delegation reached an elaborate city “entirely built in salt water,” said Pigafetta, “except the houses of the king and certain chiefs. It contains twenty-five thousand fires”—that is to say, hearths indicating family units. “The houses are all constructed of wood and built up from the ground on tall pillars. When the tide is high, the women go in boats through the settlement, selling the articles necessary to maintain life. There is a large brick wall in front of the king’s house with towers like a fort, in which were mounted fifty-six bronze pieces, and six of iron.” The gunpowder for these weapons was likely imported from China, where it was invented. After months of drifting among more primitive (though none the less dangerous) tribes, the armada had finally reached a civilization at least as advanced as their own.
After waiting in the proa for two hours, Pigafetta, Elcano, and the others were rewarded with the spectacle of “two elephants with silk trappings, and twelve men, each of whom carried a porcelain jar covered with silk in which to carry our presents.” The members of the delegation were invited to mount the elephants, and from their swaying eyries, they surveyed the landscape. Their grins can be readily imagined. The elephants lurched forward, carrying the members of the armada toward the dwelling of the “governor,” while “twelve men preceded us afoot with the presents in the jars.”
Reaching their destination, the elephants knelt, discharging their astonished passengers, who immediately sat down to a great feast. After they ate and drank their way into a state of pleasant stupefaction, they were treated to “cotton mattresses, whose lining was of taffeta and the sheets of Cambaia.” It was the first night the men had slept on mattresses and linen since they had left Seville, but few remained awake long enough to savor the sublime comfort, because they fell into a deep sleep. As they slept, servants constantly tended large candles fashioned from white wax and oil lamps, adjusting the wicks and finally snuffing them when the sun rose.
At noon the next day, the men awoke and remounted the elephants and proceeded to the king’s palace, while onlookers treated them with a respect reserved for great dignitaries. “All the streets from the governor’s to the king’s house were full of men with swords, spears, and shields, for such were the king’s orders.” Dismounting, they passed through a courtyard to a “large hall full of many nobles,” perhaps as many as three hundred, and came upon an extraordinary scene: “We sat down upon a carpet with the presents in the jars near us. At the end of that hall there is another hall higher but somewhat smaller. It was all adorned with silk hangings, and two windows, through which light entered the hall . . . opened from it. There were three hundred foot soldiers with naked rapiers at their thighs to guard the king. At the end of the small hall was a large window from which a brocade curtain was drawn aside so that we could see within it the king seated at a table with one of his young sons, chewing betel. No one but women were behind him.” They were cautioned not to speak directly to the king. Should they wish to say anything, they were to inform a servant, who would pass it on to a functionary of slightly higher rank, who would then tell the governor’s brother, who would in turn whisper the message through a “speaking-tube” passing through the wall, where another servant would intercept it and relay it to the king. As if that were not sufficiently off-putting, they were instructed to kowtow. “The chief taught us the manner of making three obeisances to the king with our hands clasped above the head, raising first one foot and then the other and then kissing the hands toward him, and we did so, that being the method of the royal obeisance.”
Once they had completed these formalities, Pigafetta explained that they wished only to make peace and to trade. The king, through his intermediaries, happily cooperated. Take water and wood, he offered, trade as you wish, and he ordered his minions to place a cloth made of gold and silk brocade on his visitors’ shoulders. For a moment, they resembled their hosts, “all attired in cloth of gold and silk which covered their privies,” and carrying “daggers with gold hafts adorned with pearls and precious gems,” but then the ornamental cloth was quickly and mysteriously removed. Of greater importance, the king conferred samples of cinnamon and cloves, the spices his guests had been seeking for nearly two years. It appeared they were now on the Spice Islands’ doorstep.
“That king is a Moro,” or Muslim, Pigafetta observed, “and his name is Rajah Siripada. He was forty years old and corpulent. No one serves him except women who are daughters of the chiefs. He never goes outside of his palace, unless he goes hunting.” No less than ten scribes wrote down his every action “on very thin tree bark.” These people also had a written language, another indication of how advanced they were.