Colonial Contact: Pigafetta’s Report on the First Voyage Around the World as Travel Narrative

Illustrated by Maja Kobylak.

In 1519, Magellan undertook a monumental feat of exploration that would last three arduous years, eventually resulting in the first circumnavigation of the world. During that time, mutinies, maroons, diseases, wreckages, battles occurred — clearly material for an untapped Hollywood blockbuster. Fuelled by a tenacious desire for spices, this Spanish expedition established new routes across the Pacific, but also proved, once and for all, that the earth was indeed spherical. Remarkably, of the original five ships and 270 men that embarked the journey, only one ship, El Victoria and eighteen men returned, one of which was the Venetian chronicler Antonio Pigafetta who documented the whole escapade in his journal: Relazione del primo viaggio intorno al mondo. This important document, copies of which were presented to eminent personages such as Pope Clement VII, could be one of the very first examples of a truly global travel narrative. 

As a piece of travel writing, the account bears lines that describe a topic that continues to fascinate me: first contact with an indigenous people. In this sense, 2021 is also an important year for the Filipino. March marked the quincentennial of Magellan arriving in the Philippines, exactly 500 years since Europeans first made contact with Visayans. As a historical source, the report not only describes a timeline for the events that took place in the Philippines, but it also gives us a glimpse into pre-colonial life in the Far East and of the cultures and languages thereof—the report is also credited for being the first European record of the Visayan dialect. But what is the legacy behind this expedition and of Pigafetta’s narrative? And does it speak to the significance of indigenous people in the wider history of the Orient? 

Before delving into the particulars of Pigafetta’s report in the Philippines, it is important to understand the nature of the expedition’s emergence. Stipulated in the Treaty of Tordesillas (1494) which placed an imaginary border down a meridian, Spain controlled the western trade routes of the globe while  Portugal controlled the east. This meant that Portugal had a navigable passageway to the Moluccas—the Spice Islands—in present-day Indonesia, and whoever dictated this passage ultimately had access to unimaginable resources of wealth since spices were worth many times their weight in gold. Oddly enough, Magellan himself was Portuguese but had promised the then King of Spain, Charles V, that there was a way to get to the Moluccas via a western route. With the help of a captured slave from Malacca called Enrique from a previous expedition, Magellan made preparations and amassed funding. In many ways, Magellan’s crew, in their indomitable search for a different passage to these islands, sowed the seeds for globalisation as they brought the Pacific spaces into European view for the very first time, spaces that would eventually be exploited through rugged mercantilism by an imperial enterprise. The expedition inaugurated a turning point in the Philippines’ narrative, placing the country on this crossroads for the next 333 years. Magellan’s significance needs to be reassessed within that narrative.

Our saga begins with Magellan’s crew leaving Seville in 1519. After anchoring in what is now Rio de Janeiro, the expedition proceeded to traverse down the coast, attempting to find waterways that would connect east and west. This journey presented a number of problems for the fleet which included a mutiny against Magellan, a perilous storm destroying one of the ships, and one ship deserting the whole expedition entirely in an act of rebellion. Magellan pressed on, however, and eventually found a series of straits down the tip of Chile. At long last, he had discovered the fabled western sea route and entered what he called the Mar Pacifico—the Pacific (peaceful) ocean. Despite the tranquility of the Pacific, the crew underestimated its sheer size, and after 98 days, riddled with famine and scurvy, the crew eventually landed in the Philippines on the island of Homonhon on March 16th, 1521. 

Our story really starts here. After finding fresh provisions on the uninhabited Homonhon, the crew eventually made contact with fishermen on boats who gave ‘signs of joy because of our arrival’, Pigafetta writes. Enrique was able to speak with these fishermen and it proved that the crew was close to the Spice Islands. Pigafetta also noted that ‘They presented fish, a jar of palm wine … [bananas], and two coconuts’ in exchange for ‘red caps, mirrors, combs, bells, ivory, bocasine, and other things’. The first exchange between these two different people paved the way for subsequent trade in the region. Magellan continued to sail further into the Philippines.  

Crucially, Pigafetta’s account also describes Philippine Christianisation and records the very first Catholic mass which occurred in Limasawa on March 31st. Magellan made a blood compact and converted the Rajah of that island, Kolambu. After receiving gifts, Magellan decided to convert the indigenous people into Christians, persuading them to do so because of his perceived invincibility, demonstrated by the strength of his armament and canons— ‘immediate reverence was made’, Pigafetta writes. At this point, the expedition seemed not so much a quest for spices as a civilising mission. Armed with his cross, Magellan continued to baptise, subsequently claiming lands he set foot on in the name of the Spanish Crown. After his conquest in Limasawa, Magellan went in search of the Moluccas, and was guided by Kolambu who advised him to collect supplies in another island called Cebu. There, he was warmly greeted by Rajah Humabon, a close ally of Kolambu. In Cebu, Pigafetta writes about ornate death ceremonies, eating customs involving ‘gongs’, and the prevailing dress codes of ‘palm-tree cloth’ and tattoos. Magellan would baptise and convert Humabon and his people, making them pay tribute to the King. Pigafetta notes that ‘Counting men, women, and children, we baptised eight hundred souls’. 

Despite his ardent evangelising, Magellan’s demise was soon to come. Overtaken by the confidence of his fleet, he became embroiled in a dispute with Datu Lapu-Lapu (Chilapulapu in Pigafetta’s account) of the neighbouring island of Mactan which would prove to be fatal. Rajah Humabon persuaded Magellan to attack Lapu-Lapu’s kingdom on his behalf. After several warnings went unheeded, Magellan sought battle but hugely underestimated the skill of the Mactan islanders, believing that his weaponry and fine armour would be enough to subdue the men. His quest to reach the Moluccas would end here at the ‘hands of one thousand five hundred persons’ who stabbed him with lances made of bamboo. Pigafetta praised Magellan in his journal; noting his nautical expertise, his zealous pride got the better of him. Today, Lapu-Lapu is not much heard of outside of the Philippines but continues to be a symbol of resistance to foreign rule in the country and should be reconsidered as an important figure within narratives about European exploration. The victory at Mactan is still commemorated every year as part of fiestas in the region, and Magellan’s legacy endures in the form of a cross he planted which is now a shrine in Cebu. 

Magellan may be known as the first circumnavigator, but he never completed the voyage (it was Elcano who did), and his encounters with the natives of the Philippines receive little attention in the West. Pigafetta’s journal, albeit from a non-Filipino perspective, is the only written account of these events and one of the very few records of pre-Hispanic life. 

As I am writing this, a replica of the ship that completed the journey is now sailing the seas in pursuit of Magellan’s trail. It recently landed in the Philippines and was welcomed with celebrations, exactly 500 years after the events that occurred. Refocusing attention away from Magellan’s crew towards depictions of the Philippines provides a refreshing perspective on the nature of the Age of Discovery, and the shifting narratives of conquest and power. The expedition itself may have been a success in terms of exploring uncharted territories, but those who are aware of the voyage do not recall Lapu-Lapu’s heroism. 

Today, Pigafetta’s journal is a sorely underrated text, but it is now gaining renewed enthusiasm, primarily as it reveals how travel narratives can shed light upon the darkest issues. The National Historical Commission of the Philippines now has digitised copies of the text. When writing history, people recognise the need to ask questions. In making such a valuable resource accessible, historians can find answers in the past to solve the problems of the present. In reconnecting with this text, Filipinos can discover—indeed, are still discovering—their own ancient roots.