"Vaffanculo! What's going on?! Why are the natives here completely different from the ones in the Bahamas? The natives in the Bahamas were so warm, peaceful, and friendly... Damn it! This is our first meeting, so why are the natives of Cuba so hostile? They won't even accept the gifts we sent over... How are we supposed to resupply food and water now?... Merda! Damn savages!..."
On the Santa Maria, Columbus cursed under his breath, staring at the wary native village on the shore, his expression rather grave. His eyes bulged, his long face tilted as he carefully studied those native spearmen bristling like hedgehogs, judging the strength of the village. These native spearmen were very clearly divided into two types.
The first were the able-bodied tribesmen standing bare-bodied at the very front of the palisade, carrying Stone Spears. These men were split into several groups, each numbering anywhere from dozens onward, and there were a great many of them, a dark mass of bodies. The second were elite spearmen in crude Leather Armor, carrying longer spears and standing farther back. There were only about thirty or forty of these leather-armored spearmen, lined up like a Supervision Squad. And right in the middle of them were two officer-chiefs in white-gold armor, who were also gazing carefully toward the fleet.
Columbus watched closely for a while, then suddenly paused and asked the pilot Pedro.
"Merda! Pedro! You've got the best eyes. Take a good look for me! Those natives farther back, the ones in Leather Armor—are those shining long spears in their hands Copper Spears? And the armor those two native chiefs are wearing, is it bronze armor?!..."
"Huh? Let me see... Chief! Some of the natives' long spears really are blue-gold, like bronze. Some others are black-gray, and they look