"Bohio! Bohio!" But when we came there, its own inhabitants called it Hayti and Quisquaya.
The Admiral paced our deck, small as a turret chamber, his hands behind him, his mind upon some great chart drawn within, not without.

At last, having decided, he called Juan de la Cosa.

"We will go to Bohio." So it was done whereby much was done, the Woman with the distaff spinning fast, fast! As this island lifted out of ocean, we who had said of Cuba, "It is the fairest!" now said, "No, this is the fairest!" It was most beautiful, with mountains and forests and vales and plains and rivers.
The twelfth day of December we came to anchor in a harbor which the Admiral named Concepcion.
On this shore the Indians fled from us.

We found a village, but quite deserted.

Not a woman, not a man, not a child! Only three or four of those silent dogs, and a great red and green parrot that screamed but said nothing.