Fifty years of Spanish rule end the Taino as a people

Mocombe opens his historical chapter with Columbus claiming the island for Spain and the Spanish exploiting its gold mines with Taino labour. He puts the pre-contact Taino population at between three and four million and states that after fifty years of Spanish rule they had been destroyed by the hardship of enslavement, organised massacres and imported disease. He calls this one of the most brutal exterminations on record. The mechanism he then traces is the substitution that followed. A Spanish priest protested against the massacre of the indigenous population and demanded an end to the injustices against them, and advocated importing Africans to work the mines and plantations as a way of ending Indian slavery on the island. Mocombe treats the two populations as directly linked by that argument rather than as separate chapters. Where this account departs from the standard one: Mocombe adopts a pre-contact Taino population of three to four million, at the very top of a range where most current estimates for Hispaniola are far lower.

Vasco da Gama's voyage around Africa to Asia, following Columbus, forced Rome to decide in a hurry who controlled the church in newly reached lands. Pope Leo X settled it for Portugal in the brief Praecelsae Devotionis of 1514, granting the crown authority over the church overseas greater than the authority it held over the church at home. At the time there was almost no organised Catholic missionary work anywhere, so the grant may have looked harmless. It was not. For the next two centuries Lisbon used it to keep missionaries of other nations out of every coast it claimed, and Rome, which rarely admits an error, lived with a weakened version of the arrangement into the twentieth century while chipping away at it. When Italian and Spanish friars finally reached the Kongo in the seventeenth century, they got there because the Dutch had temporarily taken Angola and Spain and Portugal were at war.

Spanish vessels began the traffic in African people to the Americas in 1501, selling their captives in the Greater Antilles. Those put ashore had already been enslaved on the Iberian peninsula, where a domestic slave population had existed for generations through Portuguese voyages down the African coast after 1441. What happened in 1501 was the extension of a working European institution across an ocean. That matters for how the Atlantic system should be understood. Slavery in the Americas arrived with precedents, contracts, a body of law and merchants who already knew how to value a human being. The scale changed beyond recognition once sugar took hold, and the racial doctrine hardened over the following century into something the medieval Mediterranean would not have recognised. The machinery, though, sailed west in the first years of the sixteenth century, fully assembled, and it came ashore on this island first.

By 1502, when Nicolas de Ovando arrived as governor, Xaragua was the only part of the island still outside Spanish control. Ovando sent word that he would pay a visit. Anacaona, who had ruled since her brother's death, called in everyone her kingdom could muster and prepared the ceremonial welcome for which she was famous. The Spanish turned the gathering into a killing. The massacre carried out by an officer named Alcantara spared neither women nor children nor the old, and the chiefdom was burned. Anacaona herself was taken by trickery, put in chains, subjected to every kind of humiliation and dragged to Santo Domingo, where she was tried for conspiracy, condemned and hanged in 1503. Her daughter Higuenamota lived a little longer. A Spanish officer named Fernando de Guevara paid with his life for loving her. Contemporaries who wrote about Anacaona, among them Las Casas and Oviedo, called her a very noble person and a great lady.