Their pathetic inability to resist the Spanish invaders made their eventual submission in the hands of the conquistadores an inevitability. But it wouldn’t be today. Maybe tomorrow they would start to fall, one by one, to disease, suicide and the sword. Today they glided away from harm, knowing that their continued life in paradise was only an indulgence. A luxury such as this verdenture could only be afforded to them for so long in these devolving times. For perhaps the first time they stole quick glances of one another and saw a cherished for the last time.
To these indigeness people, the pain of living incorporated death. For their pursuers death was usually a destiny for the conquered. Because these gentle people were not even considered human, there was no atrocity too great, no slaughter too grand. The reports of wealth and the unloading it at the Royal docks far off were the only objectives. A ledger of body count to booty bound would sicken the hardest of hearts, if only there were one among the violators, including the accompanying padres,