Puerto Rico lay across the wind's mouth of the Caribbean Sea like a long slab of emerald. It stretched roughly 180 kilometers east to west and 65 kilometers north to south, with more than 500 kilometers of coastline and a total area of 9,100 square kilometers. Its terrain ran from north to south: first coastal plains, then a belt of hills, then the central mountains and inland plateau, and finally the lowlands of the south. Seen from above, the whole island looked like a mango, high in the middle and low on all sides.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!..."
The howling Northeast Trade Winds brought the strength for sailing. Two caravels of the Castilian Expeditionary Force followed the northern coast of the "mango" all the way back to naturally embraced San Juan Bay.
Hundreds of strong Taino men had been fitted with ropes and iron chains. Under the pressure of the colonists' spears, they had already built four or five wooden houses and were now laying the foundation for a stone fortress. Four long-barreled 10-pounder guns had already been installed at the natural harbor of the North Bay village, serving as the first "light fortress cannons." Five Caravels, eight caravels, and supply ships were moored in this narrow bay, their tall masts raised high, their cannon muzzles glinting coldly.
"Lord above! Is this... the expeditionary force launched an armed attack on the Natives?..."
By the time De La Cosa returned, San Juan Harbor had become just such a cold and cruel sight.
The strong Taino men looked desperate and numb. From time to time someone collapsed from exhaustion, only to be met by the overseers' whips. Their hoarse pleas carried sobs, quickly turning into feeble cries that could not rise, until finally a sharp sword chopped down and the wails stopped short. Bright