In October 1495, four more Spanish ships arrived at Isabela. Ferdinand and Isabela had meanwhile heard numerous complaints against their Admiral, especially from Pedro Margarit and his band, and they had finally decided to send out a royal commissioner to investigate these complaints. It did not take Juan Aguada very long to prepare his report to the Sovereigns: the Spanish population on Hispaniola counted barely 600 people, and everyone of them was either ill or off somewhere in the countryside, robbing and plundering the Indians. All the people were unhappy and longing to return home. But worst of all, in this rich and fertile land with its beautiful climate, the entire enterprise would always remain dependent on support from Spain, because no one there would trouble to plant or sow since all were too preoccupied with hunting for slaves and gold.
Columbus well realized that it had become most urgent for him to return to Spain and salvage his reputation. It was no secret that Margarit’s stories had caused serious problems for him, and Commissioner Aguada’s report would certainly not improve the situation. Naming his brother Bartholomeo as lieutenant-governor in his absence, the Admiral prepared the trusty Nina and another caravel, and on March 10, 1496, the two ships, loaded with 225 Spaniards and 30 Indian slaves, set sail for Spain.
Columbus was prepared for the worst in royal displeasure. From the average Spaniard’s point of view, the entire enterprise of Cathay and Cipango had never been much more than the fantasy of some impractical dreamer, and now even the settlement of Isabela, instead of being a rich trading post, had proven to be little more than a fever-ridden dump. Instead of the promised gold mines of Cibao, gold was found in the smallest of quantities and could be obtained only by slave labor. Instead of being simple, peaceful and cooperative, the Indians of Hispaniola had suddenly turned into rebellious fighters who preferred death to servitude. There was not even the small consolation that those Indians who had been killed had been Christianized and thus been assured eternal life. And even though he had the sworn statements of his men that Cuba must be part of the Chinese mainland, Columbus was well aware that many of these same men were skeptical. All these problems, combined with the loud and angry cries of returning Spaniards, had the Admiral deeply worried that the Sovereigns would now dismiss their Governor-General of the Indies and simply abandon the entire project.
But Ferdinand and Isabella were only too familiar with intrigue and slander to give much credit to the tales of renegades like Margarit. They were disappointed to read in Aguada’s report that their viceroy and governor seemed to have difficulties in maintaining peace and order on the island, but they also recognized that Columbus was bound to have problems with the proud Spaniards. There were many who resented him as a foreigner, and many who resented his pride and arrogance. There also were many more who envied his success and prominence, and the Spanish rulers realized that the moment he failed at anything, the vultures would be ready to tear him apart.
Thus, when Columbus arrived at the Bay of Cadiz, he was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the Sovereigns, reassuring him and instructing him to attend at Court in Barcelona. His small procession of half-naked Indians and the curiosity of their country was indeed courteously received, and after presenting his story and the gold he had managed to squeeze out of Cibao, Columbus had recovered enough courage to plead for the support of a third voyage. Five ships he asked for this time, laden with provisions for Hispaniola, and three more for himself to explore the continent, the existence of which had been confirmed by the Indians.
The Sovereigns again promised their Admiral everything he asked for, but this time he was to have a long wait before he could sail again. A war with France was about to begin, and Ferdinand and Isabella were busy arranging marriages for their children. Dona Isabela was going to marry Emanuel of Portugal, who had meanwhile succeeded his father, John II. Dona Juana was to marry Emperor Maximillian’s son, Philip of Hapsburg, and Crown Prince Don Juan was to marry the Emperor’s daughter Margarita. And their 11-year old daughter, Dona Catalina, better known as Catherine of Aragon, was to be betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, eldest son of Henry VII of England; they were actually married in 1500, when both were only 15 years old, but Arthur died the following year. To avoid repayment of her dowry, the thrifty Henry VII then arranged for Catherine’s betrothal to his second son, and at age 23 she entered into a troubled marriage as the first of the six wives of Henry VIII. In the midst of all these activities, Christopher Columbus and the somewhat disappointing Indies were all but ignored for nearly two years.