 Ports of Call! Invite you to join us now on another voyage to Ports of Call. Come sail with us in fancy while you sit comfortably by your fireside. Our steamer has just weighed anchor and heads for Peru, our Port of Call. Just below the equator on South America's Pacific coast is Peru, land of the ancient Incas, cradle of one of the world's great civilizations, scene of the blackest treachery in new world history, land of the towering white Andes, and the green inferno of the steaming Amazon jungle. Sailing along the Pacific shores of South America, our steamer swings into the harbor of Call! Peru's principal port. A brief ride of a few minutes brings us to Lima, the capital of Peru, a city of white wall red tile buildings set in the middle of the green Remark Valley, beneath the eternal purple and white of the towering Andes. Here in Lima, during the days of the Spanish reign, was the cultural center of the new world. Here in the city of the kings, already old 300 years ago, was Sebelia transplanted to the western hemisphere. Across its wide streets strode Spanish cavaliers, lace-flounce wrists always close to their thin blades of Toledo steel. Here sat the grim-lipped priests of the western Inquisition. Under the barred windows of thick-walled Baroque palaces, love-sick youths strummed soft guitars to dark-eyed Castilian beauties. Gayety, romance, wealth. Spanish Peru danced light-heartedly through the 17th and 18th centuries, danced on the broken bodies and the crushed souls of a conquered race. The courtly minuet of the Spaniard was a dance macabre for the once-proud Inca. At a time when Europe slumbered in the ignorance of the Dark Ages, the Incas achieved an incredible civilization, as they extended their empire north beyond the equator, south to include Chile, east to the jungles of the Amazon, a territory of more than a million square miles. Without the aid of machinery or beasts of burden, other than a gentle dharma, the Incas built a system of roads eight feet wide throughout the empire. Magnificent palaces, the walls of which were built without mortar, yet constructed so carefully that a knife blade cannot be inserted between the stone block. The first suspension bridge in the world's history, so strong that an army of 12,000 men passed over it. An irrigation canal 12 feet deep and 400 miles long, causing the desert to bloom by the water brought from the snowfields of the Andes, 16,000 feet above sea level. Poetry, similar to the Japanese Tanka in effect, and as lyrical as Keats or Shelley. Drama is tremendous in its climaxes as the Greek tragedies. Government, which operated for centuries upon the fundamental basis of social concept, which is today called a modern experiment in Russia. All these the Incas had, and one thing more. Wealth, untold wealth from the minds of the Sierra. Copper, silver and gold. Gold in fabulous quantities, brought into platters of amazing thinness, worked into magnificent jewelry set with precious stones. Gold, the symbol of their god, the sun. The curse of that other god who called it the root of all evil. The industrious, peaceful Incas knew nothing of that other side of the world where gold was considered not the symbol of god, but of the devil. Knew nothing of Christopher Columbus, nor of the horde of gold seekers who followed him to New Spain. Knew nothing of the plight of Montezuma in Mexico. And nothing of the faith that was in store for them, when in 1532 they hospitably welcomed to their country a little band of Spaniards under Captain Pizarro. Upon his arrival in Peru, Pizarro learned that the Inca Atuafa was but 10 days ride away, and throwing caution to the winds determined to travel into the interior to pay his respects to the emperor, at the same time observing his chances of conquering the land. Unmolested by the natives, Pizarro led his band of 180 soldiers to narrow defiles where an ambuscade would have meant death. Led them up into the high mountain passes, on into the green valley of Cajamarca, where Atuafa was enjoying the baths. Holding within the town, Pizarro sent his lieutenant, Fernando de Soto, ahead to announce his arrival to the Inca. Emperor and adventurer met in the magnificent encampment of the Inca. A comrade emperor bearing the salutations of Captain General Pizarro, soldier of the great king of Spade. You are welcome to our country white and bearded foreigner, and we hope that your stay will be a pleasant one. A captain Pizarro would be privileged if the great emperor would honor him with his company at dinner this evening. We are observing it fast today, but tomorrow if the captain pleases, we will attend him. The captain will be the most happy of men. I shall convey your imperial majesty's message to him, I read your permission and I'm tired. Well, Fernando? Captain Pizarro, it is impossible. Impossible? Why impossible? The man is a bodyguard of a thousand soldiers armed with lances of copper and bows and arrows. I care not for lances of copper. Did you see any gold? See, gold, huge gold buckles, gold plates, gold through dazzle the eyes of the king himself. And did he accept my invitation? For tomorrow he is observing a fast today. But I assure you, Captain Pizarro, your plan is impossible. A small troop will be as nothing against those fighters. You talk with the tongue of a woman, Soto. We came for gold and we will get it. But, of course, tested in Mexico we can do here. But you dare not touch this man, he is a god to his people. That is just why I dare touch him. Once we make him prisoner, half the battle is won. The people will respect us once we show them that their god is powerless against us. Then we can claim the gold of this land for the king and ourselves. I think it is a full-hearted plan, Captain. You may think what you like, but you will obey my orders. See, Captain. Here is the plan. We place our cannons at opposite sides of the plaza. Hidden in the small side streets will be cavalry and detachment of foot soldiers. At the signal of Santiago and at them, we attack the bodyguard from all sides, kill them and capture the income. But should we be overpowered? We will not be overpowered. These heathens have never seen a horse. They have never heard a cannon or a musket. They will be too frightened to resist. Not so hasty, my son. What is it, Father Valverde? You're forgetting your loss for gold. Our mission is to convert these children to the teachings of the church. That is your duty, not mine, Father. And I insist that I be permitted to perform it. I refuse to allow you to massacre these poor souls. But Father Valverde, I am here to conquer these lands for the king of Spain. And I am here to save these souls for Almighty God. Very well, Father. You may attempt to convert to here. The following day, a little before sunset, the royal procession of Atualpa entered the gates of the city, unarmed, as evidence of their hospitality and friendliness. The entrance of the Inca was accompanied by more regal pomp than the Spanish adventurers had ever witnessed. A band of menials came first, removing all obstacles, even the smallest sticks and stones from the path of the emperor. Then came the heralds announcing the approach of the Inca. Then the nobles and princes of the royal blood, glittering with gold ornaments and jewels. Finally came the royal palanquin, studded with plates of silver and gold and lined with the feathers of tropical birds. Seated within upon a throne of solid gold was the Inca atualpa, magnificently attired in a rich purple garment of the finest bicuna, wearing a collar studded with huge emeralds. As he approached the Spanish quarters, Father Valverde, crucifix in one hand, Bible in the other, came out to greet him, began without ceremony to acquaint him with the basis of Christianity, the story of Jesus, the doctrine of the Trinity. And Father, my son, understand that my Holy Father, the Pope, has given to the great white king of the land of Spain across the distant sea the right to conquer the lands of this new world and has sent me to convert the natives to the way of the truth and delight. We are here now to accomplish this mission. Captain Pizarro to claim these lands for his king and I, to convert you and your people to the one true faith. My son, walk not further in the darkness and scene of the event. I have shown you the light. Come, follow me, pledge your spirit to Christ and your allegiance to the great king and Holy Roman Emperor Charles of Spain and he will ever after aid and protect you in this life just as Christ Jesus will greet you in the life year after. Enough, I have heard enough. Are you asking me to be the vassal of another? Of Charles the Holy Roman Emperor. I am the greatest prince on earth. I will be vassal to none. But your soul too. Peru is mine. I am the Inca. I am the child of the son. You tell me your God was put to death by the human beings he created. My God lives here above us in the heavens and watches over his children. I would not exchange a kind and powerful God for one who cannot control his own creatures. Where did you learn these ridiculous things? Here in this book, in the Holy Bible. Let me see it. A holy Bible. It is a book of lies. An illogical trumpery if it teaches what you have said. I want none of it. My son, it is a grieve of sin to desecrate the Bible. The Inca to Alper is above sin. The Inca to Alper is God himself. Go to your Pizarro and tell him and his henchmen to leave my domain at once. And I forbid you to speak of this God of yours to any of my subjects. You have had your turn. Now it is ours. Wait, my son! Wait! Screaming their battle cries, the Spaniards fell upon the Indian host, slaughtering right and left as they struggled toward the litter of the Inca. Stunned by the sudden bedlam of the noise, by the never-before-heard rattle of musketry and roar of cannon, heroically the nobles of the Inca's court defended the person of their lord with their naked breasts. As quickly as they were cut down, new ones took their place. In half an hour it was all over. The tropical twilight quickly deepened to night, drawing a merciful curtain of darkness across a scene of horrible carnage. Ten thousand Indians had been massacred, though not a single Spaniard was so much as wounded. That night, Atahualpa kept his appointment with Pizarro. He dined with the conqueror, not as a welcoming potentate, but as a prisoner, a stunned, uncomprehending prisoner who understood but one thing clearly that his captors coveted his gold. You seem to admire the golden goblet from which you drink white Christian. It is very beautiful. For my freedom, I will pave the floor of this room with gold. What say you? Do you have this great room with gold? Perhaps it is not enough. Very well. I stretch my hand as high as I can above my head. I will fill the room with gold to that height in exchange for my freedom. Accept it, Captain Pizarro. Look, the room is fully 17 feet broad and 22 feet long. Agreed, worthy Inca. When you have filled this room with gold you shall go free. To the farthest parts of his empire Atahualpa sent demands for his ransom. Slowly the porters filed back to Cajamarca bearing their precious burdens. Gold floors were ripped up. Golden cornices pulled off temples. Bases, bowls and goblets were sent. Slowly, week after week, the booty grew. Finally Pizarro melted down the ransom and distributed it among his men. A ransom of 15 million dollars. The highest sum ever paid kidnappers in the history of the world. But Pizarro broke his pledge to Atahualpa. Still the emperor remained imprisoned. Pizarro fearing for the safety of his men where he released. Then came a rumor of the native uprising. Pizarro sent Hernando de Soto to investigate. But the soldier to investigate. But the soldier to investigate. But the soldier to investigate. But the soldier to investigate. But the soldier to investigate. But the soldiers were growing restive. They demanded Atahualpa's life to ensure their own safety. A travesty of a trial is he. A travesty of a trial is he. A travesty of a trial is held presided over by Pizarro and father Valverde in which Atahualpa is accused not only of fomenting a rebellion against the Spaniards but of such irrelevant charges as having more than one wife. The court is quick to reach a verdict and Pizarro himself brings it to the Inca's quarters. Inca at Atahualpa, the court has reached a verdict. Yes, they have found me innocent. They have freed me. No, they have found you guilty. Guilty. And sentenced you to be burned at this stake. Is this the civilization of which you boast to burn an innocent man at this stake? There is one choice. If you will embrace Christianity and be converted, your sentence is to be commuted to death by strangling. A much less painful method. What have I done to you white Christians that I should meet such a fate and at your hands to you who have received nothing but friendship in my land, with whom I have shared my wealth? I can do nothing. You are found guilty. Guilty? But of what? Foughting a rebellion against me and my command. That is not so. Of that I am innocent. When your lieutenant Disoto returns, he will tell you there is no such rebellion. You are also found guilty of immorality. Immorality? What is that? You have more than one wife. But that is the ancient custom of my people. How can you try me for that? And we have found you guilty. Furthermore, the court has found you an improvident ruler and has decided that for the good of the people, you must be put to death so that the people may receive without interference the benefits of civilization under the rule of the king of Spain. But how have I been an improvident ruler? My people have been happy. They have had food, clothes and shelter. Since we have arrived, your people's condition has been deplorable. There is not enough food. Their riches have been removed from their storehouses and treasuries. But only removed that I could pay you for my freedom. In the opinion of the court, it was inconsiderate of you to treat your subject so. I cannot understand. You do not speak clearly. You are putting me to death for a crime which you yourself have committed. The court's opinion is final. My people need me, white Christian. Give me my life. I am innocent. I swear it. Give me my life. And I will pay you double the ransom. I can do nothing. Tomorrow evening at sundown you will be put to death on the stage. No, no. Don't burn me. It is our custom to burn heretics. However, think it over. The garat is quicker. If you will permit yourself to be baptized, you may die by strangulation. Bewildered, confused, helpless, Otto Alfa at last chose the less painful death. And on the afternoon of August 29th, 1533, he was baptized by Father Valverde as one Otto Alfa. And at sundown of the same day he was executed. And the following day, as Mass is being said over the Spaniards' first South American convert, hard-riding Hernando de Soto returns from his scouting expedition. Capitan Pizzoro! Capitan Pizzoro! What is this I hear? Otto Alfa was executed last night. But why? The court found him guilty of treason against the king of Spain. It was not guilty, Capitan Pizzoro. There was no uprising. The natives are peaceful. I am relieved to hear that. But why? Why didn't you wait for my report? We are safer, Fas. Inco was a great man. And I've been here. I should have defended him with my life. Your remarks are insubordinate, de Soto. You are a murderer, Capitan. The end sometimes justifies the means. Never when honesty is met with black treachery. We will pay for this, Pizzoro. All of us someday will answer for this hideous deed. The Soto spoke the words of a prophet, for there was not a single member of that cutthroat crew of conquistadores who did not sooner or later meet with a violent death. For the next 200 years, Peru was the mint of the Spanish Empire, sending across the ocean galleon after galleon of gold and silver bars, mined by the conquered and enslaved Incus, whose number during this period was reduced by five million the cruelty and hardships imposed upon them by their captors. But a new era was dawning. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Voltaire and Diderot had left their impression on the world. In 1778, the American colonies to the north heeded the voices of these political prophets and dumped English tea into Boston Harbor. In 1789, the Sankulat bourgeoisie of France tore down the Bastille and erected the guillotine. Liberty was a word with a new meaning. South America heard the joyous chorus of freedom from across the seas, heard the multitudes marching to independence, singing Yankee Doodle and Marseillais. One by one, the colonies revolted, proclaimed themselves independent nations, but still in Lima the viceroy of the king of Spain, Rue Supreme, quelling the patriots with the cunning tricks known to the Inquisition. Then from Chile, General San Martín marched at the head of the Liberating Army of the South and in Ecuador, Bolivar, the Liberator, planned his attack from the north. Events moved rapidly. The viceroy fled for his life and on July 28, 1821, General San Martín faces the population of Lima in the Plaza Mayor. From this moment, Peru is free and independent by the will of the people and by the justice of their cause, which God defends. On the islands off the coast of Peru and on the cliffs along her desert shoreline, roost millions of seagulls. For untold centuries, these birds have been manufacturing the basis of Peru's national economy and the source of one of the bitterest wars in the Western Hemisphere. Their product is guano, a fertilizer rich in nitrates. The conquering Spaniards knew nothing of the value of this material, did not realize in their avaricious hunger for gold that these deposits, some of which covered the islands and the cliffs to the depth of 50 feet, would someday yield a fortune beside which their golden loot would seem the small change falling from a child's china bank. Peru first came to know the importance of its guano deposits shortly after she gained their independence. Vast shipments were made to Europe. Here for the digging was to be found material which sold for as high as $100 a ton. The nation went wild. Wealth that could be scraped from the earth's surface. Wealth so prodigious that the citizens were relieved from the payment of taxes. For a score of years, Peru lived on the mortgage income from her guano deposits. It was a lot of contracts given to foreign extractors of the precious stuff. But just as the Andean mines have been gutted by the wastage of exploitation, so the guano deposits diminished. Attacks of 10 thin towels was placed upon the guano. The powerful shippers refused to pay it. Nitrate deposits had been found in Tarapacá, the southernmost province bounding upon Chile. Shrew, the nitric magnets dangled this prize before the ambitious eyes of Chile. Cozy belly were trumped up. Latin American patriotism whipped to a fever heat by the guano capitalists. And in 1879, Chile and Peru went to war, a war which started as a war of the 10 thin towels, and which soon came to be known as the War of the Pacific. From the first, Peru was badly beaten. Antofagasta, the Pacific province of Bolivia, fell in time to the marching beat of Chilean soldiers. Tarapacá was soon occupied. Tacna capitulated. And the last stand of the Peruvian army was made on the Moro of Arica, which stands in the bay of Arica. Here, the badly decimated Peruvian force receives its last orders from Colonel Boliñeci, the gallant commander. Soldiers of Peru, the Chileans have sent me an envoy under a flag of truth. They demand that we surrender. No, we'll never surrender. We'll never surrender. Ah, my comrades, that is what I wanted to hear. That is what I told the Chileans that we would fight to the last cartilage. Hold the flag up high, Manuel, so that the others may see it. That's all very well, but what a way to do. Colonel said we would fight to the last cartilage, but I have but three left, and I have but six. Never surrender to Chile. Here, take my carbon. Use it. That is useless, Manuel. Look, the Chileans have gained the top of the Moro. We must surrender or be cut to pieces. Never. They shall not take the flag of Peru. What are we to do? They are upon us. We are but a handful, Manuel. Give the flag. Let them know that we surrender. Never. Don't, idiot. Here, give me the flag, then. I'll signal no one shall disgrace the flag of Peru. Manuel, where are you running? Where you've fallen to the sea and been drowned? What is the matter? I shall not have surrendered the flag. Manuel, come back! Come back! Thus, the great legend of the War of the Pacific, Manuel L. L. Arte, the color sergeant who preferred death in the sea to surrendering his country's flag to the enemy. Thus, the stuff of which Latin American patriotism is made, the dry tinder of hatred which lies dangerously under the hot equatorial sun. The War of the Pacific settled nothing. Chile, victorious, took her nitrate fields in Tarapacá and also the two provinces of Tacna and Arica. And by the terms of the Treaty of Antón, agreed that the population of these two provinces would, at the end of ten years, conduct a plebiscite to determine whether they remain Chilean or return to Peru. But the plebiscite was never held. And for fifty years, the Tacna-Arica question was a running sore in the side of South America's body politic. Only to be solved in 1929 when, after countless discouraging attempts, President Hoover achieved an amicable settlement between the two enemies, whereby Chile was to retain Arica and Peru was to regain Tacna. So, after half a century of ill-feeling, the road was finally opened toward a brighter future for these two neighbors under the equator. Our visit to Peru is drawing to a close. From Lima, we take the railroad across the Andes, climbing tortuously upward, winding through tunnels, crossing deep gorges until our train reaches the highest point on the highest railroad in the world, 16,500 feet above sea level, where it enters a tunnel underneath a mountain which rises thousands of feet further. Down the western slope of the Andes, we roll, passing mining towns constructed of solid mahogany logs dropping to Timberline, on down to the Montana of eastern Peru. Gradually, the flora and fauna change. On this damp, eastern slope of the Andes grow great stands of mahogany, the monkeys chatter from the deep-bind matted jungle, and gay topical birds screech their outrage of the intruder. As we approach the world's greatest river, through groves of rubber trees, we are passing through one of the wildest topical jungles in the world. Finally, the jungle gives way to a bustling modern city, Iquitos, Peru's Atlantic Seaport, a deep-water harbor 2,000 miles into the center of South America. For to Iquitos, one of the world's great rubber ports, come ocean vessels all the way up the Amazon from the Atlantic Ocean, and here we board our steamer, which will take us back home once more. We have enjoyed our visit, Peru, and in the spirit of your famous and splendid hospitality, we say, Hasta la vista. We invite you to come with us again next week at this time, when we journey far from home to another of the world's exotic ports of call.