Narrator: In 1519, a Spanish ship arrived from the Americas, carrying not just plundered treasure, but people. A group of Totonac ambassadors from Mexico, adorned in magnificent feathered capes and cotton shifts, embarked on a grueling journey across Spain to meet the young King Charles V. They presented him with gifts of stunning artistry, including intricate goldwork and containers of whisked chocolate, a beverage unknown to Europe. As European observers debated whether these visitors were powerful envoys or rescued captives, the Totonacs asserted their own status, with their leader famously refusing to bow before the king, stating that he, too, was a king. This single, powerful moment shatters the familiar narrative of European discovery. It reveals a forgotten history, a reverse angle on the age of exploration where the shores of Europe were the strange new world. In her meticulously researched book, On Savage Shores, Caroline Dodds Pennock uncovers the lost stories of the thousands of Indigenous Americans who journeyed to Europe, forcing us to reconsider who was discovering whom.

Narrator: The traditional story of the Age of Discovery is one of European ships sailing west, forever changing the Americas. But this is only half the story. On Savage Shores reveals that from the very beginning, the Atlantic was a two-way street. Thousands of Indigenous people—men, women, and children—traveled eastward to Europe. They were not merely footnotes in a European story; they were diplomats, enslaved laborers, artists, scholars, and family members who integrated into the very fabric of European society.

Their experiences were incredibly diverse. While many were brought in chains, others came as emissaries of their people. One of the most remarkable stories is that of Essomericq, the son of a Carijó chief in Brazil. In 1505, his father agreed to let him travel to France with a sea captain, hoping he would return with knowledge and alliances. The voyage was perilous; Essomericq fell gravely ill and was baptized by the French crew, who believed it saved his life. After his ship was wrecked by pirates, the captain, unable to return him home, adopted him. Essomericq, now known as Binot Paulmier, married into a French family, became a successful businessman, and established a noble lineage that continues in France to this day. His story, and others like it, prove that Indigenous peoples were not just confined to the Americas; they were active participants in the dawning of a new global age.

Narrator: While the horrors of the African transatlantic slave trade are widely known, the book uncovers what historian Andrés Reséndez calls "the other slavery"—the enslavement of millions of Indigenous Americans. This practice was not an afterthought of colonization; it was a foundational strategy. From his very first voyage, Christopher Columbus viewed the Taíno people as commodities. In 1495, he initiated a mass enslavement, capturing 1,600 people on Hispaniola and shipping 500 of the "best" to the slave markets of Spain. The journey was so brutal that 200 died en route, their bodies cast into the sea. This set a horrific precedent, and for decades, European ships returned from the Americas laden with not only gold and spices, but human beings.

Yet, even in the face of this brutality, Indigenous people demonstrated incredible agency. The story of Francisco and Juana, a Guatemalan couple, shows this resilience. Enslaved and branded as children, they were brought to Spain. After the Spanish Crown passed the "New Laws" in 1542, which theoretically outlawed Indigenous slavery, they fought for their freedom in court. Their lawyer cleverly argued that the brand on Francisco's face, meant to mark him as property, was actually proof of his illegal enslavement, as he was too young to be legally captured in war. After a long battle, they were declared free in 1549 and granted passage home—a bittersweet victory, as they returned to a homeland that had been decimated by European diseases.

Narrator: The popular myth that Indigenous peoples mistook Europeans for "white gods" is a colonial invention that masks a more complex reality. From the start, both sides were actively trying to understand each other, and this was only possible through go-betweens—interpreters and cultural mediators who stood in the liminal space between worlds. While Europeans often kidnapped people to train as translators, these individuals were far from passive tools.

No one exemplifies the power and complexity of this role more than Malintzin, the Nahua woman also known as La Malinche. Given to Hernán Cortés as an enslaved woman, her fluency in both Maya and Nahuatl, and her quick grasp of Spanish, made her indispensable. She was not just a translator but a cultural advisor, diplomat, and strategist who was central to Cortés's ability to forge alliances and conquer the Aztec Empire. In the north, the story of Manteo and Wanchese reveals the divergent paths these go-betweens could take. Brought to London from the coast of North Carolina in 1584, they were meant to serve English colonial ambitions. Manteo chose a path of collaboration, learning English, helping create the first Algonquian alphabet, and eventually being baptized and named "Lord of Roanoke." Wanchese, however, grew deeply distrustful of the English and returned home to become a leader of Indigenous resistance. Their opposing choices show that Indigenous people were not a monolith; they were active agents making strategic decisions in a rapidly changing world.

Narrator: At its heart, the encounter between the Americas and Europe was a collision of two profoundly different worldviews. Europeans arrived with what Cortés famously called "a disease of the heart that could only be cured by gold." They saw the natural world as a collection of commodities to be extracted, owned, and sold for profit. This acquisitive mindset was incomprehensible to many Indigenous cultures, whose philosophies were often built on principles of reciprocity, balance, and communal well-being.

This clash is perfectly captured in a conversation from the 1550s between a French pastor and a Tupinambá elder in Brazil. When the pastor explained that the French endured great hardship crossing the sea to acquire brazilwood to sell for profit, the elder was baffled. He asked why they would labor so hard "just to amass riches for your children," when the earth that nourished them would surely nourish their children as well. He concluded that the French must be "great fools." This powerful critique reveals an Indigenous worldview based on sufficiency and trust in the earth, a stark contrast to the European drive for endless accumulation. This difference was a constant source of misunderstanding, as European gestures of trade were seen as theft, and Indigenous acts of hospitality were misinterpreted as surrender.

Narrator: The history detailed in On Savage Shores is not confined to the past. For Indigenous communities, the displacement of their people and the removal of their sacred artifacts and ancestral remains is an "open wound" that continues to affect them today. For many Indigenous beliefs, a person’s spirit cannot find rest unless they are buried in their homeland with the proper ceremonies. The thousands of Indigenous people who died and were buried in Europe left a spiritual rupture that their descendants are still working to heal.

This healing takes the form of cultural reclamation and repatriation. A powerful modern example is the story of Mahomet Weyonomon, a Mohegan chief who traveled to London in 1736 to petition the king for justice. He died of smallpox and was buried in an unmarked grave. For centuries, his mission was incomplete and his spirit unrested. But in 2006, Mohegan leaders, joined by Queen Elizabeth II, dedicated a memorial at his burial site. They performed a traditional smudging ceremony and symbolically completed his mission by presenting a copy of his original petition to the Queen. This act of remembrance, bridging centuries and cultures, was a way to "return to wholeness as a people." This ongoing fight to honor ancestors and reclaim heritage demonstrates that the stories of these transatlantic travelers are not just history; they are a living, breathing part of contemporary Indigenous identity and survivance.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from On Savage Shores is that the history of the Atlantic world was never a monologue delivered from a European ship. It was a complex, often brutal, and deeply interconnected dialogue. Indigenous peoples were not on the margins of this story; they were central actors—as diplomats, enslaved people, family members, and intellectuals—whose journeys to Europe fundamentally shaped the modern world. Their presence challenged European ideas, their knowledge transformed European culture, and their resistance complicated the colonial project at every turn.

The book leaves us with a profound challenge: to "look harder" for the traces of these forgotten lives. It asks us to question the narratives we've inherited and to listen to the voices of descendants who continue to live with this legacy. What happens to our understanding of history when we stop seeing the Americas as the "New World" and start to imagine, just for a moment, how an Indigenous traveler might have looked upon the strange customs and insatiable greed of 16th-century Europe and seen, for the first time, a truly "savage shore"?