Portuguese portraits

by Aubrey F. G. Bell

The King of Cochin was so greatly impressed by this exploit that he henceforth held Pacheco in the highest esteem. He little knew at the time how intimately their fortunes were to be linked. Before Affonso and Francisco de Albuquerque left for home it was known that the King (the Samuri) of Calicut was about to attack Cochin with his entire forces by land and sea. None of the Portuguese captains evinced any alacrity to be left behind in its defence, and when Pacheco accepted with a good will, but “rather to serve God and the King than for any hope of profit,” those who knew how great was the might of Calicut said: “God have mercy on Duarte Pacheco and those who remain with him,” scarcely expecting to set eyes on him again. As it proved it was Francisco de Albuquerque who perished, on his way home, while Pacheco died many years later, in peace and on dry land.

Whatever Pacheco’s thoughts may have been at the prospect before him, he knew that to instil confidence into his men was half the battle; he said little, but showed by his demeanour that he was perfectly satisfied, and asked for not a single man beyond those whom the Albuquerques had found possible to leave him. Thus he remained alone in India, still an unknown country to the Portuguese, with his own ship and three even smaller vessels, and, in all, ninety men.

It was little wonder that even the faithful and resolute King of Cochin began to despair when it was known that the host, or horde, from Calicut consisted of 60,000 men. He himself could provide about half that number, but of these three-quarters were actively or passively hostile. The Moors, moreover, who supplied Cochin with provisions were minded to abandon the city, and would have done so had not Pacheco intervened.

He at first determined to hang the ring-leader in this treachery, but the King declared that, should he do so, the rest would rise in mutiny, and he accordingly assembled the “honest merchants,” and addressed them in a speech of such vigour that for the moment he had no further trouble from the Moors. Purple with rage and speaking so loud that he seemed to be actually fighting, he offered them his friendship, but should they thwart him he promised to be a crueller enemy to them than any King of Calicut. Their respect for Pacheco was further increased by his astonishing energy, for, after working all day at preparations against the coming invasion, he spent the nights in forays into the Repelim country.

Pacheco’s task was to defend the city of Cochin, and the Portuguese fort recently built by the Albuquerques. The territory of Cochin was separated from that of Repelim by salt-water channels, and the preparations of the Portuguese were directed to the defence of the principal ford, which was only passable at low tide, with deeper water at each end. With this object stakes were made ready to be driven in all along the ford in a serried stockade. By the time the King of Calicut reached Repelim, Pacheco had put a salutary fear into the hearts of the citizens of Cochin, so that when the news of his arrival came their first impulse to abandon the city was immediately checked.

The better to inspire them with his own fearlessness, he made his usual night expedition into Repelim and set fire to one of the villages. He experienced some difficulty in returning, and five of his men were wounded, but when the King of Cochin expostulated against this foolhardiness he merely laughed and said that all he wished for was that the King of Calicut should advance to attack him.

The first attack at the ford occurred on the last day of March 1504 (Palm Sunday), and the period that followed may well claim to be one of the most brilliant Hundred Days in history. The enemy on this Palm Sunday, relying on their overwhelming numbers, crowded down to the ford at low tide, but the sharp stockade confronted them and the artillery from the boats stationed in the deep water on both sides of the stockade cut them down. Their own “cannon” were not very formidable, for we are told that they did not propel their projectiles with greater violence than that with which one might throw a stone, and at the end of the day the Portuguese had but a few injured and none killed. Their danger was nevertheless great, for although the enemy had suffered considerably in this first assault they were so numerous that they could continually renew the attack, and sleepless vigilance, with intervals of terrific exertion, was necessary to defeat them.

But Pacheco had succeeded in imparting something of his own spirit to his men. Undeterred by the flight of the Nairs who should have supported him, he took advantage with his usual energy of the breathing-space secured by this first victory, ordered his men to make a show of revelry at intervals during the following night in order to impress the enemy, and next day with forty men set out and burnt a village. The enemy’s attacks were repeated on Good Friday and Easter Sunday and Easter Tuesday, and in the intervals of victory Pacheco kept on burning villages, to the delight of those in Cochin.

The endurance of the defenders was tested to the utmost when the King of Calicut attacked on the same day in two places, at the ford and in a deep water channel. He seems to have made a mistake in not waiting to attack with his fleet until low tide enabled the infantry simultaneously to assault the ford, or, at least, the plan did not work out well, and Pacheco was able to deal first with the numerous fleet of boats, said to have been two hundred and fifty in number.

The four little Portuguese ships seemed almost lost in the multitude of the enemy. The darts and arrows, says one of the early Portuguese historians, were in such quantity that they cast a shadow over the ships, and so loud were the shouts and cries that it seemed to be the end of the world. Again and again the enemy’s boats, chained together, came on to the attack, but they never succeeded in boarding the Portuguese caravelas, although many of the Portuguese were wounded.