J Mari Arch (2013) 8:101138

DOI 10.1007/s11457-013-9110-8
REVIEW PAPER

Seafaring Capabilities in the Pre-Columbian Caribbean

Scott M. Fitzpatrick

Published online: 11 June 2013

 Springer Science+Business Media New York 2013

Abstract At historic contact Europeans remarked on the skill and proficiency of native
Caribbean Amerindians to build and travel in dugout canoes. While archaeological
examples of these have been recorded throughout the circum-Caribbean, very few exist in
the Antillean chain of islands. Despite this deficiency, indirect evidence of seafaring along
with archaeological data has suggested to many that the sea was an artery that linked
prehistoric communities together between islands and continents through exchange networks and settlement lifelines. It is clear that frequent interaction was taking place
prehistorically in the region, but examination of seafaring capabilities and the general lack
of hard archaeological evidence for contacts in many places suggest this was largely
restricted to interaction between the islands and with South America. The fact remains that
seafaring in the Caribbean, as one of the smaller aquatic realms inhabited by humans in the
past, was highly influenced and largely structured by oceanographic and anemological
effects that limited the development of various watercraft designs and navigational techniques which are seen in many of the other worlds seas and oceans. In this paper I:
(1) synthesize what is currently known about the antiquity and development of early
seafaring in the Caribbean; (2) highlight debates about the level of technologies found in
the region; (3) discuss how environmental conditions likely influenced seafaring capabilities and settlement patterns; (4) outline the possible evidence for connections between the
different surrounding mainland areas; and (5) provide a comparison with seafaring technologies found in the Pacific to help contextualize the Caribbean into the broader context
of global seafaring.
Keywords

Prehistoric watercraft
Canoes
Maritime interaction
Antilles
West Indies

It was with a happy heart that the good Odysseus spread his sail to catch the wind and used his seamanship
to keep his boat straight with the steering-oar.
*Homer

S. M. Fitzpatrick (&)
Department of Anthropology, University of Oregon, Eugene, OR, USA
e-mail: [email protected]

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Introduction
When Europeans arrived in the Caribbean beginning in the late 1400s they often remarked
on the seafaring abilities of native Amerindians. Historic chroniclers and explorers,
including Christopher Columbus himself, commented on the proficiency of these groups in
building and using canoes and their ability to move freely between islands (e.g. Columbus
1932; Mendez 1933; Loven 1935). In fact, the word canoe derives from the native
Amerindian term canoa (or canoaoa; kenu) (Dodd 1972: 67) that Columbus and other
sailors encountered during his first voyages that impressed them greatly with their speed
and manueverability. However, it is still debated as to whether more advanced technologies such as the sail and planking were present (McKusick 1960; Callaghan 2011a, b,
2013) and if larger canoes, estimated to hold more than 100 people, were actually used
prehistorically or are a case of exaggeration. These issues are amplified when one considers
that very few archaeological examples of watercraft have been recorded in the Antilles in
contrast to other parts of the circum-Caribbean such as the Southeast United States (e.g.
Newsom and Purdy 1990; Wheeler et al. 2003) and Mesoamerica (McKillop 2010) with
which to examine ancient seafaring capabilities.
More than 50 years ago, McKusick (1960) tackled the question of how aboriginal
canoes in the Caribbean were constructed and their probable seafaring capabilities. Using
primarily ethnohistoric evidence, he remarked that:
There is no evidence that ocean voyages were undertaken directly across the central
Caribbean. Although voyages frequently took place beyond site of land, these were
between the islands or between islands and adjacent mainland areas. The picture that
emerges is one of considerable maritime activity in the fringes of the Caribbean
where the islands furnished landmarks and landings with relatively short channel
distances to be crossed (McKusick 1960: 3).
With numerous advances in analytical procedures and a half century of archaeological
research since McKusicks (1960) review, it is worth reexamining whether his original
perspectives were valid or not, particularly in light of recent efforts to develop more
extensive radiocarbon chronologies (e.g. Fitzpatrick 2006; Cooper 2010a, b; Rodrguez
Ramos et al. 2010) and investigate possible instances of trade and exchange systems within
the Caribbean (Hofman et al. 2008, 2007; see papers in Curet and Hauser 2010). In a recent
review of the evidence of Pre-Columbian maritime interaction, Hofman et al. (2010: 1)
state:
The highly variegated pre-Colonial Caribbean (is)landscape, always [emphasis
added] had a dynamic, inter-connected character thanks to the maritime orientation
of its native (Amerindian) inhabitants and the regionwide interaction networks they
maintained. It is now commonly accepted that human islanders were never socially
isolated except in very extreme cases, but rather that the sea likely functioned as an
aquatic motorway, a plane that the islanders would have traversed frequently,
despite its occasional unpredictability. Seen from this perspective, the Caribbean Sea
actually linked communities instead of separating them, encouraging (micro-)regional
mobility and exchange.
Hofman et al. (2010: 4) go on to argue that the:
Archaeological evidence suggests that we need to view the wider Caribbean or
circum-Caribbean region as potentially one large arena within which Amerindians

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could have established and maintained local and regional circuits of mobility and
exchange as they traversed water passages and islands, without downplaying their
cultural, social, biological, or linguistic particularities. This pan-Caribbean approach
demands a pan-regional, diachronic, multiscalar and cross-culturally comparative
perspective on mobility and exchange between manifold communities with varying
forms of socio-political organisation.
This perspective, while perhaps true for much of the Greater and Lesser Antilles, at least
during certain points in time (especially as it relates to South American connections during
the last 2,500 years), neglects some anomalous features of Caribbean prehistory in terms of
settlement patterns. It also presupposes that seafaring technology and navigational techniques were sufficient to always (sensu Hofman et al. 2010: 1) initiate and/or maintain
connectivity to communities throughout the circum-region. As Anderson (2004: 264)
adeptly notes, however:
Island colonization and post-settlement relationships are seen as driven implicitly by
demographic, social, or economic imperatives to which seafaring is just a passive
platform for the delivery of people and commodities.[but] boats were active and
decisive agents in island life and fundamental mechanisms in the production of
diversity in insularity.
Callaghan (2011b: 72), in a recent seafaring simulation analysis of Caribbean island and
mainland connections, noted that contacts were certainly not limited by technology or
environment, suggesting that some of the disparate patterns of colonization and interaction visible in the archaeological record must have been primarily due to social factors.
There is no doubt that personal relationships played a role in structuring exchange
behaviors. But, the archaeological data, when combined with other lines of evidence,
suggest that Caribbean Amerindiansthough proficient at making dugout canoes and
moving between islands (e.g. Cooper 2010b), as well as traveling to some of the continental margins (particularly, and perhaps almost exclusively, South America)never
developed a higher level of seafaring technology or navigational expertise as was seen in
the worlds other seas and oceans prehistorically. But, they essentially did not need to
given the relatively smaller size of the Caribbean Basin, biogeographical arrangement of
the islands, prevailing oceanographic and anemological conditions, and local or South
American accessibility of a wide range of desired raw materials and other resources such as
precious stones and exotic plants and animals. Nonetheless, the lower level of seafaring
technology found in the region does seem to explain anomalous patterns of settlement and
the paucity of interaction with other parts of the circum-Caribbean despite claims that
interaction was essentially universal through time.
I agree that if we are to seek out a pan-Caribbean approach to mobility and exchange
that is indeed diachronic (sensu Hofman et al. 2010: 4; also Hofman et al. 2011), all
lines of evidence should be carefully examined and this includes capabilities associated
with seafaring. To shed light on these and other issues, in this paper I attempt to:
(1) synthesize what is currently known about the antiquity and development of seafaring in
the Caribbean using various lines of evidence (linguistic, ethnohistoric, archaeological);
(2) highlight debates about the level of technologies found regionally; (3) discuss how
environmental conditions, including currents and winds, likely influenced seafaring
capabilities and settlement patterns through time; (4) outline the possible evidence for
connections between the different surrounding mainland areas, including North America,
Mesoamerica, and South America; and (5) contrast seafaring capabilities found in the

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Caribbean with those of the Pacific to better contextualize why there were major differences between the two regions and why it is then difficult to make parallels as some
scholars have previously suggested.

Research Background
Environment
The Caribbean Sea, just slightly larger than the Mediterranean, covers an area of more than
2.75 million square kilometers and is the worlds second largest sea and seventh largest body
of water (Fig. 1; Table 1). The sea lies adjacent to the Gulf of Mexico, which at 1.5 million
square kilometers, is a little more than half the size, but extremely influential as far as
oceanographic conditions in the Caribbean Basin are concerned. The sea stretches 1,700 km
northsouth from Florida to Panama and 2,300 km eastwest from the Antillean chain of
islands fringing the eastern margin of the Caribbean to the Yucatan Peninsula in the west.
Geographically, the Caribbean is comprised of several major island chains that are
typically divided into the Greater Antilles (Cuba, Hispaniola, Puerto Rico, and Jamaica),
the Lesser Antilles, and at least culturally, the Bahamian Archipelago (including the Turks
and Caicos), though it is technically situated in the Atlantic Ocean. Geologically, the

Fig. 1 Map of the Caribbean. Inset at upper right hand corner shows generalized direction of major
currents. See Andrade and Barton (2000), Callaghan (2010: figure 6.2), Murphy et al. (1999), and Gyory
et al. (http://oceancurrents.rsmas.miami.edu/caribbean/caribbean.html) for more detailed patterns of winds
and currents in the region

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Table 1 Size comparison of the
worlds major oceans and seas

105

Order

Name

Area (sq. km)

Pacific Ocean

165,200,000

Atlantic Ocean

106,400,000

Indian Ocean

73,556,000

Arctic Ocean

14,056,000

South China Sea

2,974,600

Caribbean Sea

2,515,900

Mediterranean Sea

2,510,000

Bering Sea

2,261,000

Gulf of Mexico

1,507,600

10

Sea of Okhotsk

1,392,100

11

Sea of Japan/East Sea

1,012,900

12

Hudson Bay

730,100

13

East China Sea

664,000

14

Andaman Sea

564,900

15

Black Sea

507,900

16

Red Sea

453,000

17

Caspian Sea

371,000

18

Baltic Sea

415,000

Lesser Antilles form an island arc resulting from subduction of the North American Plate
beneath the eastern edge of the Caribbean Plate (e.g. Speed et al. 1993) with other divisions
defined throughout, including those in the southern Lesser Antilles such as the forearc
region (e.g. the Barbados accretionary prism), the arc platform and volcanic chain, and the
backarc (the Grenada Basin and the Aves Ridge) (see Speed et al. 1993). The arc itself is
750 km long and extends from Grenada in the south (140 km north of Trinidad and South
America) to Sombrero just north of Anguilla. The Lesser Antilles are volcanically active.
Seventeen volcanoes have erupted within the last 10,000 years, including Kick-em Jenny,
a submarine volcano located between Carriacou and Grenada, St. Catherine on Grenada,
and Mount Soufrie`re on St. Vincent (Robson and Tomblin 1966). Hofman et al. (2011: 75)
describe the Lesser Antilles as a second land bridge connecting South and North
America, though this a misnomer for even during times of lower sea level, neither the
southern nor northern islands in the chain, from Grenada up to the Bahamas and Greater
Antilles, were connected to the continents.
There is also a scattering of islands that skirt the South American mainland such as
Trinidad and Tobago, the Dutch ABC Islands (Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao), along with
Marguerita and Los Rocques that are politically part of Venezuela. Because of their closer
proximity to the mainland or connection during periods of lower sea level (e.g. Trinidad),
these islands are considered somewhat distinct in terms of both the composition of biota
and prehistoric colonization patterns. There are also numerous smaller islands in the
western Caribbean such as the San Andres archipelagocomprised of San Andres,
Providencia, Santa Catalina, and several atolls and cays that are politically part of
Colombiathough none of these appear to have evidence for Pre-Columbian settlement.
Other islands located between 30 and 55 km off the coast of Honduras include the Bay

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tila that were settled prehistorically from Mesoamerica

Islands of Roatan, Guanaja, and U
by at least the Late Post-Classic Period (A.D. 9001500) (Goodwin 2011); the Cayos
Cochinos and Swan Islands that lie adjacent to Honduras remain under-investigated.
Further divisions commonly used in the Caribbean to describe island sub-regions
include those known as the Leeward and Windward islands, the former of which
generally refer to those situated east of Puerto Rico down to Dominica, and the latter, to
those south of Dominica to Trinidad, including those that skirt the margin of northern
South America (Fig. 1). Geologically, the larger islands of the Caribbean are a mixture of
both limestone and volcanic material while nearly all of the Lesser Antilles are much
smaller and volcanically youthful with mountainous topography. Other islands such as the
Caymans, Bahamas, and Barbados are predominantly limestone (see Bouysse et al. 1990).
The regions climate is tropical and as a result of its oceanographic conditions and
proximity to various physiographically distinct land masses, the Caribbean is extremely
diverse ecologically with a high level of endemism. As noted by Conservation International, the Caribbean is home to 2.3 % of the worlds endemic plant species
(n = 13,000?) and 2.9 % of endemic vertebrate species, including more than 600 bird
species. Nearly all (95 %) of the 500 reptilian and amphibian species are endemic, as are
all 170 species of frogs. In addition, there are over 1,500 species of fish, 25 coral genera,
630? mollusc species, and numerous echinoderms, crustaceans, sea mammals, sponges,
birds, and reptiles in marine, freshwater, brackish, and terrestrial environments (see
Newsom and Wing 2004). Given that the Caribbean contributes only 0.15 % of the Earths
surface, these are enormously significant percentages.
Clarke (1989: 44) and Callaghan (2001, 2011b) have discussed the general weather
patterns found in the Caribbean which are summarized below and an important consideration when examining ancient seafaring in the region (see also Hall 1971). In general, the
weather is fairly stable year round (apart from hurricanes) and more warm and humid in the
summer and fall than in the winter and spring. The region lies within the Northeast Trade
wind belt (Amador 1998) with prevailing winds that are easterly, and that between
December and May are relatively steady in the south, lending them the name Windward
Islands. The Northeast Trades have a northern limit of around 28N latitude (crossing
Nassau, The Bahamas) which is reached between July and September. It is during this time
that the strongest and steadiest winds pass through the middle of the region, while near the
northern limit, they tend to be more variable. This limit then shifts south to about 24N
(across the center of Cuba and the Turks and Caicos) between February and April. On
average, the winds blow between 11 and 15 knots from the east-northeast. The northern
part of the Bahamian Archipelago (north of 24N) is beyond the trade winds during the
winter and as such, they experience occasional strong winds from the north and lighter,
more variable winds. The winds shift east to southeast in the summer as the Northern
Trades return. During the summer and fall there is an increase in cloud cover, rainfall,
thunderstorm activity, and hurricanes, with winds often becoming lighter and more variable. The steadiest winds in the summer months are found in the northern Lesser Antilles,
while those islands in the south and along the South American coast are steadiest in winter
as a result of the central portion of the trade wind belt shifting south (Clarke 1989: 44;
Callaghan 2001, 2011b). See http://www.windfinder.com for monthly average wind speed
and prevailing directions from monitoring stations in the Caribbean and elsewhere.
The movement and circulation of water in the region is most heavily influenced by the
Caribbean Current which moves westward from the Atlantic and funnels through the
islands (Murphy et al. 1999; Andrade and Barton 2000; Hernandez-Guerra and Joyce 2000;
Alvera-Azcarate and Barth 2009; see also Gyory et al.: http://oceancurrents.rsmas.miami.

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edu/caribbean/caribbean.html). Because islands that form the Lesser Antilles Island Arc
system have relatively steep bathymetry and are spaced closely together, this creates a
bottlenecking of sorts, which when coupled with the prevailing trade winds, creates rapid
transport of water through the channels (see Bouysse et al. 1990 for descriptions of local
bathymetry; also Alvera-Azcarate and Barth 2009: fig. 1). This is particularly true in the
southern third of the island chain (Gordon 1967; Kinder 1983; Richardson 2005) between
the St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and Grenada Passages that are comparatively swifter and where
the surface flow of water can reach 70 cm s-1 or more between Grenada and the coast of
Venezuela up to the Dutch ABC islands (Fratantoni 2001; Centurioni and Niiler 2003;
Hernandez-Guerra and Joyce). This was also readily observed by the French archaeologist
Benoit Berard who, as part of an effort to reenact Pre-Columbian modes of travel and
revitalize interest in island connections and seafaring in the Lesser Antilles, undertook a
voyage in 2010 from Martinique to the southern Caribbean in a 60 foot long canoe with
more than 25 paddlers who were accompanied by another modern vessel holding other
participants. While their trip through the islands went generally as planned, with stopovers
on most of the major islands, Berard (personal communication, 2013) ran into difficulty
when attempting to cross the 30 km passage heading south from Carriacou to Grenada and
had to stop off at the intervening island of Ronde 20 km away because they could not make
headway. This was the only unintended stopover they had to make during their trip. I have
also talked to many local sailors who have traveled between the two islands and had similar
experiences, even with sailboats.
The Caribbean Current is also strong (60 cm s-1) along the Colombian and Panamanian
coasts (Fratantoni 2001). In general, it is typical for the Caribbean Current to flow west at a
speed of between 1.5 and 2.0 knots, with inter-island channels flowing at twice that speed,
something that sailors and recent experimental voyages have documented well. The
Caribbean Current also intensifies seasonally around 14N partly due to the influx of
freshwater plumes from the Orinoco and Amazon after Andean spring melts reach the
ocean (Chrubin and Richardson 2007).
The Caribbean Current eventually moves in a northwest direction toward the Gulf of
Mexico where it turns into the Yucatan Current. Here, near-surface velocities can reach up
to 80 cm s-1 (Coats 1992) and reportedly even higher to 150 cm s-1 (Nowlin and
McLellan 1967). The Yucatan Current then joins the Florida Current to form the clockwise
flowing Loop Current that can reach as far as 29 north in close proximity to the Mississippi river delta. The Florida Current then moves through the straits between Cuba,
eventually forming the powerful Gulf Stream that forcefully discharges warm water up the
coast of the Southeast United States and into the Atlantic. It should be noted that there are
also numerous eddies (primarily anticyclonic in the Caribbean Current) that form within
the Caribbean Basin as a result of various oceanographic, atmospheric, and seasonal
influences (e.g. Richardson 2005; Alvera-Azcarate and Barth 2009), some of which have
advection speeds of 2030 cm s-1 (Andrade and Barton 2000).
Prehistoric Migrations
Apart from those islands that border the coast of South America such as Trinidad and
Tobago which were connected to the mainland during the Early Pleistocene/Early Holocene and settled around 6000 B.C., the first archaeological evidence for prehistoric colonization of the Antilles is found in Cuba and Hispaniola. These groups, often referred to as
the Lithic or Casimiran Casimiroid peoples, are generally thought to have originated
from somewhere in Mesoamerica between 50003000 B.C. based primarily on perceived

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similarities with lithic assemblages in Belize (Wilson et al. 1998; see Cooper 2010a for
comprehensive list of 14C dates from Cuba).
However, Callaghan (2003) in his analysis of seafaring simulations and the examination of lithics between the two areas, suggested that while it would have technically
been feasible for peoples to reach the Antilles from any of the surrounding mainland
areas during certain times of the year, the greatest chance of success was actually from
South America. Callaghan (2003) further notes that chance discovery of the Greater
Antilles was much greater from the Venezuelan coast than anywhere else given the sheer
size of the staging area, the low level of navigational skill and knowledge required, and
the need to only head in a general northward direction. Departing from northern Central
America would have also required some foreknowledge of changing course. In addition,
the lithic assemblages from Belize that Wilson et al. (1998) suggest is reminiscent of
those found in Cuba and Hispaniola is discounted by Callaghan (2003: 335) who notes
that the diversity of tools from those sites in Belize (Sand Hill and Orange Walk) is
much greater, with no known counterparts in the Greater Antilles. Essentially, we
should be cautious about making a connection between the Yucatan Peninsula and the
Greater Antilles on the basis of manufacturing technology and chronology alone
(Callaghan 2003: 335). Instead, a northern South American origin for these Lithic groups
seems more likely based on similarities in stone tool assemblages (e.g. Kozlowski 2004;
Veloz and Martin 1973; Veloz and Vega 1982), the fact that some of the densest
concentration of sites are found in southern and western Hispaniola and eastern Cuba,1
and seafaring simulations demonstrating the ease of travel northward and back (Callaghan 2003).
About 5001,000 years later between ca. 3000 and 2500 B.C., Archaic or Ortoiroid groups ventured into the northern Caribbean, occupying parts of Hispaniola,
Puerto Rico, and many of the islands throughout the Lesser Antilles, though they are
primarily focused north of the Guadeloupe Passage (Keegan 2000; Rouse 1986; Fig. 1).
Later, these Archaic groups were followed by ceramic-making horticulturalists known
as Saladoid around 500/400 B.C. who are widely known for their decorative pottery
and focus on horticulture, particularly the cultivation of manioc (cassava) and a host of
other plants (see Keegan 2000; Newsom and Wing 2004). Both of these latter two
groups are clearly related in some fashion to peoples in northern South America. While
there were several major pulses of Amerindian groups into the Caribbean islands, it
was likely much more complex, with multiple minor movements of peoples between
islands, and islands and the continental margins. In sum, of the three major migratory
movements seen prehistorically in the Caribbean (Lithic, Archaic, and Saladoid), all
seem most likely to have originated from South America. Though connections to other
mainland areas such as northern Central America and the Gulf Coast, may have taken
place, it was likely on a much more sporadic scale, at least based on current
archaeological evidence.

Coopers (2010a: 104) review of 140 radiocarbon dates and other archaeological data from 1,061 prehistoric sites in Cuba shows that there is a propensity for the earliest sites (ca. 63004450 cal BP) to be
found along the northern coast of the island, though the number of dates is small (n = 7). Interestingly, the
earliest dates for occupation of an offshore island in Cuba are from Punta del Este, Isla de la Juventud (Isle
of Youth) at Cave 4 (1290740 cal BP) and Cave 1 (970680 cal BP). Given that this island is one of the
largest in the Caribbean (*2,200 km2), this could suggest that seafaring traditions had either waned since
initial colonization, or did not develop until much later in time.

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Evidence for Seafaring in the Caribbean

Canoes
That humans actively colonized and permanently settled the Caribbean Islands in prehistory, and were able to maintain connections with groups on other islands and mainlands
as evidenced by similarities in ceramics and other artifacts (e.g. Keegan 2000; Hofman
et al. 2007, 2008, 2011), certainly point to capable seafaring strategies. However, there are
very few archaeological examples of watercraft in the islands that would testify to the level
of technological sophistication available at different points in time. As such, ethnohistorical accounts provide much of the description of canoes and seafaring present in the
region. This is in contrast to other parts of the circum-Caribbean such as Mesoamerica
(McKillop 2010) and the Southeastern United States (e.g. Newsom and Purdy 1990;
Wheeler et al. 2003) where the archaeological evidence is comparatively more robust.
The few cases of watercraft that have been found are dugouts constructed from single
trees. These include two fragments (1.5 and 2.0 m in length), each with a rim edge of what
appear to be the same vessel that were found in 1999 and 2004 eroding from the shoreline
at the partially submerged Tano (Late Ceramic Age) site of Los Buchillones site in Cuba
(Cooper 2004: 94) (Figs. 2, 3, 4). Their exact provenience and age, however, is currently
unknown. Remnants of a larger oceanic canoe was also reported to have been found on
islands further west of Los Buchillones near Marti in northwest Cuba by archaeologists in
the 1980s, though its dimensions and shape have not yet been reported (Jago Cooper,
personal communication, 2011). Other examples of dugouts include the Stargate canoe
from a blue hole on South San Andros Island in the Bahamas reportedly made from
mahogany (Fig. 5; Callaghan 2001: Fig. 2; Keegan 1997: 58) that is similar to those used
by groups along the Upper Orinoco river basin of Venezuela such as the YeKwana
(Callaghan 2001). As Callaghan and Schwabe (2001) note, the canoes observed archaeologically do not readily resemble those which were reported by Spanish chroniclers.
Instead, they more closely align with ones used currently by native South Americans.
There are, however, some platform-style canoes used by peoples today in Venezuela and
Belize that do resemble those recorded by the Spanish (Callaghan 1993).
Paddles
Unfortunately, there is also a dearth of evidence as to how paddles were constructed. Du
Tertre (1667, in McKusick 1960: 6) provides a basic description:
Their paddles have a handle like a spade, with a small crosspiece of wood across the
top. This is held with one hand while the other hand grasps the paddle near the blade,
the latter being 2.5 feet long. They paddle very differently than we row for they face
the bow, pushing the water behind to drive the pirogue ahead.
Limited direct evidence of seafaring in the Caribbean Islands comes from wooden
paddles of which nine are currently known: four from the Bahamas, two from Cuba, one
from Haiti, one from the Dominican Republic, and one from Grand Turk Island (De Booy
1913: 25; Harrington 1921: 208; Loven 1935: 417419; Ostapkowicz 1998: 118122; see
also Loven 2010: 417). Unfortunately, most are not reported in detail. The specimens
include a nearly complete blade of a lancet-shaped paddle recovered at the limestone
sinkhole site of Manantial La Aleta in the Dominican Republic (Conrad et al. 2001:
figure 2), one made from cedar recovered in a cave on Mores Island in the Bahamas

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Fig. 2 Canoe fragments (top) from the site of Los Buchillones, Cuba shown in a local museum (photo
courtesy of Jago Cooper)

Fig. 3 Canoe fragments from the site of Los Buchillones, Cuba (photo courtesy of Jago Cooper)

(De Booy 1913: 25), one from a cave near Monte Cristo in Cuba (Harrington 1921: 208),
and another from the Coralie Site on Grand Turk made from wild lime (Zanthoxylum sp.)
(Newsom and Wing 2004: 183). Those from Mores Island and Monte Cristo have carved
designs decorated on the paddle which led Ostapkowicz (1998: 119) to suggest that these
may have been a reflection of a persons (owners?) status.
Though the general paucity of paddles found in archaeological sites in the Caribbean
precludes a better assessment of how they were used, a repeated pattern observed with
Pacific Islanders is the use of varying types of paddles (Haddon and Hornell 19361938)

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Fig. 4 Canoe fragments from the site of Los Buchillones, Cuba (photo courtesy of Jago Cooper)

depending on the kind of canoe being used (and henceforth, for different purposes such as
fishing, ceremonies, or raiding) (Holmes 1993). In general, paddles used in still water or
less turbid rivers are typically shorter (Haddon and Hornell 19361938), with such shapes
associated with dugouts having been found in Scotland, for example (Mowat 1996). In
open water, speed is often required for ceremonial or war canoes, and sharp bladed patterns
like the lancet-shape described by Loven (2010: 417418), are typically used to allow for
quick retrieval and rapid stroking in waves to achieve maximum speed.
Conversely, a broader bladed paddle can also be used as a weapon (Best 1976). The
distinction of paddle shape is critically important when we look at long sea voyaging in
open waters using large canoes. It should also be noted that small dugouts used along the
South American coast were usually paddled standing up (Edwards 1965a, b) in contrast to
larger canoes that were paddled from a kneeling position. This had the effect of increasing
stability by lowering the center of gravity in open water situations (Holmes 1993; see also
Haddon and Hornell 19361938).
The Sail
There is also the question of whether Amerindians in the Caribbean had knowledge of the
sail which would have allowed them to travel more quickly and efficiently using the steady

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Fig. 5 The Stargate canoe from South San Andros Island, The Bahamas (photo courtesy of Richard
Callaghan; see schematic for this vessel in Callaghan 2001: 180; figure 2)

prevailing winds as a harness. A number of scholars, including Edwards (1965a, b) and

Callaghan (2011a) have addressed this issue by examining multiple lines of evidence,
ranging from linguistics, historical documents, and vessel form and use. One of the primary
sources of historical evidence for the use of sails comes from de Oviedo Valdes (1851:
170171) who stated that Amerindians navegan con velas de algodon which was
interpreted by Thompson (1949: 71) as meaning they sail (or navigate) with sails of
cotton. Callaghan (2011a, b), however, noted that this could also be taken to mean they
move about with awnings of cotton and is supported by de Las Casas (1875: 108111)
accounts of encountering canoes with awnings or shelters being used, a feature that
would not be outside the realm of possibility when one considers the tropical climate and
the need for added protection from the elements. A better appreciation of late fifteenth
and early sixteenth century Spanish usage of both toldos and velas is necessary before
the passage is taken as proof of sails (Callaghan 2011a, b: 2). In addition, Valdes remarks
on the use of velas, as Callaghan (2011a, b) notes, are based on personal observations
written in 1514 which was well after contact.
There is also a story recounted by John Stoneman who was the pilot of the ship Richard
of Plimoth. In 1606, Stoneman rescued Friar Blasius from Dominica after an Island Carib
uprising and noted:
And that hee [Friar Blasius] had beene there sixteene moneths a Slave unto those
Savages; and that other two Friars which were of his company thye had murthered

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and throwne into the Sea. We demanded of him then, how he go so much favour to
preserve his life, his Brethern being murthered: Hee answered, because hee did shew
the Savages how to fit them Sayles for their Cannoas, and so to ease them of much
labour often in rowing, which greatly pleased the Savages as appeared, for wee saw
them to use sayles in their Cannoas, forwhich hath not been seene before. Then we
demanded of him where they had this Linnen Cloth to make those Sayles, That about
two yeeres before that, three Gallions coming to the West Indies were cast away on
the Ile of Gwadalopa [Guadeloupe], where abundance of Linnen Cloth and other
Merchandise was cast on shoare (Stoneman 1965: 285286, after McKusick 1960:
5; Callaghan 2011a: 2).
Based on his analysis of these and other factors, Callaghan (2011a; see also McKusick
1960) suggested that while sails would have been feasible, there is a distinct lack of
historical and linguistic evidence to support this claim. As I suggest below, there may have
been good reasons for why the sail was essentially unnecessary.

Canoe Construction
The sparse evidence available of actual canoe construction in the Caribbean suggests that
they were constructed from a single log (Loven 1935: 417) and that many were capable of
holding one or a few individuals in smaller fishing canoes (Figs. 6, 7), with many more
larger ones able to carry as many as a few dozen people or so that would have been ideal
for both inter-island travel and crossing lengthier passages. There are reports by historical
chroniclers of canoes that were much larger, however, including ones that could hold
between 50 and 60 people (Fig. 8) and even an apparent sighting of one near Jamaica that
held in excess of 100 people (McKusick 1960: 7; Stevens Arroyo 2006: 46).
They [Amerindians] have more canoes than in any other part of those regions, and
the largest that yet been seen, all, as had been said, made each from a single tree
trunk. In all those parts, every cacique [chief] has a great canoe, of which he is proud
and which is for his service, as here a caballero prides himself on possessing a great
and beautiful ship. So they have them decorated at the bow and stern with metal

Fig. 6 A dugout canoe used by the Tano as shown by Benzoni (1563)

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Fig. 7 Reconstruction of a five person canoe based on surviving and contemporary examples of dugout
canoe construction from Amazonia and the Caribbean (drawn by John Swogger)

Fig. 8 Illustration of a larger, generic dugout canoe capable of holding around 5060 people (drawn by
Leslie Hazell)

bands and with paintings, so that their beauty is wonderful. One of these large canoes
which the admiral measured was ninety-six feet long and eight feet broad (Bernaldez,
in Jane 1988, II: 124; McKusick 1960: 7).
During his first voyage, Columbus reported on the general use of canoes by Caribbean
Amerindians.
They have in all these islands very many canoes like our row-boats; some larger,
some smaller, but most of them larger than a barge of eighteen seats. They are not so
wide, because they are made of one single piece of timber, but a barge could not keep
up with them in rowing, because they go with incredible speed, and with these
canoes they navigate among these islands, which are innumerable, and carry on their
traffic. I have seen in some of these canoes seventy and eighty men, each with his oar
(Columbus 1870: 910; McKusick 1960: 8).
During his first encounter with native Amerindians on 13 October 1492 after reaching
the Bahamas, Columbus recorded (translated by his son Fernando and published in 1571)
that:
.many of the natives returned on board the ships in their boats or canoes, which
were all of one piece hollowed like a tray from the trunk of a tree; some of these were
so large as to contain forty or forty-five men, while others were so small as to hold
one person, with many intermediate sizes between these extremes. These were
worked along with paddles formed like a bakers peel, or the implement which is
used in dressing hemp. These oars or paddles were not fixed by pins to the sides of

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the canoes like ours; but were dipped into the water and pulled backwards as if
digging. Their canoes are so light and artfully constructed, that if overset they soon
turn them right again by swimming; and they empty out the water by throwing them
from side to side like a weavers shuttle, and when half emptied they lade out the rest
with dried calabashes cut in two, which they carry for that purpose (Columbus 1824:
57; see also McKusick 1960: 8).
On 27 November 1492 during Columbus first voyage he reported seeing a large Tano
trading canoe along the northeast coast of Cuba. According to de Las Casas (who translated
a portion of Columbus ship logs over a century later), Columbus stated that he found a
handsome dugout or canoe, made of one timber as big as a fusta of twelve rowing benches,
drawn up under a shelter or shed made of wood and covered with big palm leaves, so that
neither sun nor water could damage it (Beckwith and Farina 1990: 133; Dunn and Kelley
1989: 187; Jane and Vigneras 1960: 78). According to Peck (2002), the European fusta of
a size to accommodate twenty-four rowers amidship plus passengers or cargo space in the
ends, would have been about forty feet long.2
On 30 November 1492, Columbus also reported that while still skirting the coast of
Cuba, they ventured near a large river emptying into the sea where they found a handsome dugout or canoe ninety-five palmas in length, made of a single timber, and in it a
hundred and fifty persons would fit and navigate (Peck 2002: 2; quotes derived from
Beckwith and Farina 1990: 137 and Dunn and Kelley 1989: 189). According to Kelley
(1987: 122123), the length of a Mediterranean palm (palmas) was about 10 inches which
would have made the canoe close to 80 feet long. However, Peck (2002: 2) regards this
estimated length and the number of people the canoe could carry to be an exaggeration,
noting that most Spanish chroniclers reported that the larger canoes could only carry
around 30 people.
There was also a report by Stoneman (1625; see McKusick 1960: 7) of a canoe near St.
Lucia that held 4050 Caribs. It is worth mentioning too that along the coast of Florida, the
Spanish came into contact with the Calusa who had apparently fashioned a variation of the
double-hulled canoe. Within two hours [came Caalus], with as many as twelve canoes,
and two of them fastened one to the other, with decks covered with awnings of hoops and
matting (Sols de Meras 1965). This vessel type is not reported in the Caribbean islands.
There is also the question of whether Amerindians used planking in all or part of the
design such as a wash strake to form the gunwale and raise the freeboard. This is an
effective strategy that increases the height of a canoe and reduces bailing and capsizing. Du
Tertre (1667, translated by McKusick and Verin; see McKusick 1960) states the following:
The barbarians make two kinds of boats in which they go to sea. Their boats are very
different from our skiffs and sloops. We call their biggest boats pirogues, although
the savage word for them is canoua. The smaller boats, which we call canoes, are
termed by them couliala. Both types are made from whole trees which they trim, dig
out, and then complete, with implements bought from Europeans such as axes, adzes,
and other tools. Prior to the trade with Europeans they spent entire years making their
boats. They felled trees or burned them at the base. They hollowed out the log with
stone axes and with a small fire, which progressed a little at a time all along the log
hull until it had reached the desired shape.

This is actually close to the estimated length of some Polynesian double canoes (Doran 1981).

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Pirogues appear to be nothing more than two great planks joined to a base [which is
the hollowed log], and these boats have a width across the gunwales of 6 or 7 feet.
Where the planks join at each end of the boat, the opening is closed up with pieces of
plank. This is especially true with the stern, which is almost always slightly higher
than the bow.
Long poles are lashed, half a foot below the gunwales on both sides of the pirogue.
They lash thwarts upon these poles, set at 2-foot intervals, which serves as benches
whey they paddle. These pirogues are usually 40 feet long and 7 to 8 feet wide. The
rudder is only a plank set into another piece of wood without iron or nails. The
pirogues sometimes carry 50 people and all their luggage, and run by sails or
paddles.
Ordinarily, the pirogues are not high enough with just these first side planks, and so
they raise and build up the sides from one end to the other with some planks 1516
inches wide. Without using nails they lash and fit theses planks upon the pirogue
with cordage made from mahot fiber. They next caulk the joints with oakum made
from the beaten bark of mahot. Over this caulking they bind small sticks with mahot
cordage [to keep the oakum in the seams]. This is indeed very watertight, but it does
not last long and must be done over and over again.
The coulialas, which we call canoes, never exceed 20 feet in length and have a beam
of 3 to 4 feet. They are pointed at both ends, making it difficult to distinguish bow
from stern. The canoes are seldom built up with side planking, and are paddled in the
same way as pirogues. There are many kinds of canoes, some so small that they can
only carry one man and solely used for fishing. They have no compasses, magnets, or
sundials. Therefore, they do not go too far from land. When they lose sight of land,
they steer at night by the stars and by day from the course of the sun.
During Columbus fourth voyage, he had to beach his two ships in Jamaica after they
became unseaworthy and dispatched Diego Mendez to Hispaniola for assistance. As
McKusick (1960: 9) reports:
In order to make the trip, Mendez modified a medium-sized Jamaican canoe. He
attached a false keel, pitched and greased the hull, and nailed boards upon the bow
and stern, because the gunwales had little freeboard above the water. Finally, he
added a mast and sail. Even with these modifications, the passage was very difficult
and gives an insight into the deficiencies (as seen through European eyes) of
aboriginal boats.
Given that canoes observed historically in the Caribbean were dugouts and never
appeared to have: (1) used planking to actually build the canoe itself (in contrast to a
dugout made from a single hollowed-out log), though at least in some cases it seems
probable that they used planking (as a wash strake) to form the gunwale and raise the
freeboard; (2) outriggers (Fig. 9); (3) a double-hulled configuration; or (4) the sail, the
question remains as to whether these larger varieties actually existed and would have been
feasible for long-distance voyaging given the available resources and weight/draft ratios.
To use a sail without some mechanism for stabilization can easily result in capsizing
(Doran 1981). To achieve stability, the length to beam ratio of about three and beam to
depth ratio of about two gives stability for sailing as noted by Doran (1981). The actual
configuration and its effectiveness will depend on prevailing winds because some sail

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Fig. 9 Illustration of a typical outrigger dugout canoe with sail from the Bonin Islands (drawn by Leslie
Hazell). There is no historical, linguistic, or archaeological evidence to suggest that Caribbean Amerindians
ever developed these two technologies

forms can only be used downwind which is the case for various Hawaiian (Holmes 1993)
and Maori (see Best 1976) canoes for example, depending on mast and lashing strength.
Downwind sailing means not having to tack, and for large canoes, tacking was a problem
that required either a centerboard, keel arrangement, outriggers, or a technique known as
shunting, whereby the entire sail, along with the boom, rudder, and mast or lofting spar,
are moved to the opposite end of the boat. While this technique may on the surface appear
to be laborious and ineffective, in reality it was an ingenious strategy that allowed sailors to
maintain heading, reduce the chance of capsizing, and maintain speed (Doran 1981: 36).
The examples known from the Caribbean have none of these characteristics or capabilities.
Establishing maximum stability for canoes in Oceania was required for long distance
voyaging that ultimately led to the development of the outrigger. Later, double-hulled
canoes with large, central platforms (Hornell 1945) (the precursor to modern day catamarans) that provided greater carrying capacity allowed the farthest reaches of the Polynesian Triangle (Hawaii, New Zealand, and Easter Island) to be colonized (Anderson
2004). Dugouts seen in Ecuador or Columbia, if sailed, were not considered to be particularly handy to windward (Edwards 1965a, b). Generally for large canoes, it is only
their beam and seamanship that maintains stability for longer distances. Nevertheless, with
suitable materials and skilled manpower, these larger dugout canoes are an option in the
Caribbean, even if less sophisticated than those found in Oceania.

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In terms of resources, there are several larger families of trees that would have been
suitable for construction of a variety of different sized canoes (Little and Wadsworth
1964), despite McKusicks (1960) claim to the contrary. These include woods of the
mahogany family (Meliaceae) (e.g. Cuban mahogany [Swietenia mahagoni]) that can reach
heights of 3035 m, and the ceiba family (Malvaceae) such as Ceiba pentandra that will
grow up to 6070 m tall. The latter for constructing Tano canoes was described by Las
Casas as ceyba (sensu Loven 2010: 420). Loven (2010: 416) reports that at Baracoa,
Columbus saw a Tano canoe made from cedar, possibly Cedrela odorata (commonly
known as Spanish Cedar or Red Cedar) which can often reach up to 40 m in height and in
ideal growing conditions in South America, up to 60 m high. It is moderately light weight
with a specific gravity of 0.4 and is termite and rot resistant. All of these trees are found
throughout the circum-Caribbean and known to have been (and are currently) used for
making canoes. They all have a suitable length/height and growth diameter width, as well
as the requisite specific gravity that with standard manufacturing techniquesincluding
steaming to expand the width and the use of cross wise beams (athwarts) to spread a green
trunk even widercould have theoretically carried 80100 persons.
Loven (2010: 417) proposes that while the Tano were exceptional paddlers, with the
Spanish remarking on the high speeds at which they could travel, the canoes were only
seaworthy in a limited sense.
They took in water easily and had to be bailed out with calabashes. Because they had
such flat bottoms, they turned over easily. But the crew very quick of hand, reversed
the boat and bailed out the water with their calabashes, while swimming along
outside (Loven 2010: 417).
While Loven (2010) indicates that the canoes were flat bottomed, Richard Callaghan
(personal communication, 2013) notes that most found in the Caribbean were U shaped
instead. This hull shape would give them a very different righting moment than a flatbottomed canoe. It is easy to get Caribbean canoes to roll, but the last few centimeters
necessary to capsize is more difficult. In a flat bottomed canoe it is harder to initiate a roll,
but easier to pass the capsize threshold (Richard Callaghan, personal communication,
2013). However, the absence of any known stabilization components or techniques such as
an outrigger would have made a canoe of this size tenuous to maneuver and keep afloat in
open sea, particularly given an increase in wetted area for the canoe when loaded with
passengers, paddlers, and cargo that reduces speed and maneuverability. It should be noted
that during a trip to Venezuela in 1996, Callaghan (2005) reported seeing a skeg (fin) being
used on smaller canoes that would have helped when maneuvering through more turbid
waters and prevent capsizing, suggesting to him that this particular technology may be an
indigenous Carib development, though at which point in time it developed is unknown.
Given the lack of archaeological or historical evidence of this technology, it is probably a
post-contact development.
If we consider the size of an average adult to be around 70 kg (*155 lbs)3 9 100
persons, this equals out to be 7,000 kg (15,430 lbs) or seven metric tons. A canoe of this
size estimated to be at least 80100 feet (2530 m) long used for voyaging of any length in
open ocean would also need to include provisions, paddles, and various associated tools
(e.g. containers for bailing, weaponry, etc.). A canoe of similar dimension as those seen in
the Pacific made from mahogany, which weighs around 15.5 kg (34 lbs) per cubic foot (see
3

Doran (1981: 63) actually uses an estimate of 180 lbs per crew member in his analysis of canoe weights in
the Pacific.

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Doran 1981: 66), would equal out to be around 24,000 lbs (10.8 metric tons), requiring
dozens of people to move and launch and having a combined weight with people, supplies,
exchange items, and provisions of around 1819 metric tons. As Doran (1981: 6667)
notes, increased cargo weight will actually aid the overall stability of double canoes like
that in the Pacific, but not for single outriggers (or simple dugouts). So, while a larger
canoe was feasible to build given the resources available, it is quite probable that if they
were used, it was for ceremonial purposes or coastal raiding within sight of shore as was
seen in Hawaii and New Zealand at contact (Best 1976: 60). The main difference between
the Pacific and Caribbean varieties being that in the latter, there were no apparent stabilization techniques used (e.g. an outrigger), and given the sheer weight involved with this
single hull design, it would have been impractical for both everyday use and long-distance
voyaging.

Maritime Activities, Seafaring, and Mainland Connectivity

As Broodbank (2006) noted in his review of maritime activities in the Mediterranean, an
analysis on how the use of watercraft for transportation shifted over time requires the
recognition that the processes of moving from land to sea is cumulative, and that peoples
gradually move from the first tentative seagoing to more adept seafaring, and ultimatelyultralong-range, ideologically charged voyaging (Broodbank 2006: 200).
Through trial and error, and presumably the borrowing and adaptation of existing technologies developed over time for riverine and near shore environments, Caribbean
Amerindians began the first seagoing stage by venturing out to the islands closest to the
mainlands first, including Trinidad around 6000 B.C. (though humans were possibly there
earlier given its proximity to South America and associated, but not well-dated, artifactual
assemblages), Curacao ca. 3000 B.C., and Cuba, Hispaniola, Barbados, and Puerto Rico
between c. 53004800 B.C.
Interestingly, despite the close proximity of Cuba and the Bahamas to Florida, there is
currently no unequivocal archaeological evidence yet for prehistoric contact between the
Southeast United States and the Caribbean. Many scholars (e.g. Helms 1988; Marquardt
1990; Rouse 1986) have suggested that it may have occurred based on various lines of
evidence, including geographical proximity and similarities in agricultural practices, language, burial customs, general cultural behaviors, and artifacts such as ceramics and shell
gouges (see Siedemann 2001: 45 for a list of more complete references). Purdy (1988)
argued that shortly after post-contact in 1492, Caribbean Amerindians retreated to Florida
in the wake of incursion, suggesting they knew of land and people to the north. Callaghans
(2011b) seafaring simulations also demonstrate that the southeastern part of Florida and
some of the islands in the Bahamas could be reached in as little as 6 days from northern
Cuba, suggesting that contacts could have occurred from the Caribbean periodically.
It would have also been extremely risky for vessels leaving the Florida Keys or South
Florida and heading westward. Given the prevailing currents and winds, this would have
required paddling at an intense (and likely unsustainable) pace. The average speed of the Gulf
Stream is 4 miles per hour (6.4 km/h), though surface speeds can reach in excess of 5.5 mph
(9 km/h) which is the fastest in the world; the current gradually slows as it veers northward
past Georgia and the Carolinas (e.g. see Auer 1987; Sato and Rossby 1995). It is also
noteworthy that the current moves four billion cubic feet of water per second which is 150
times more than what is carried by the Amazon and overall, exceeds that transported by all
of the worlds rivers combined (http://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/gulfstreamspeed.html).

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As a result, there is the distinct possibility of vessels being swept up the coast of Florida and
into the Atlantic via the Gulf Stream if sufficient paddling speeds are not maintained. Callaghans (2010) simulations confirm this, with multiple landings in South and Southeast
Florida from Cuba. It would have also been possible to travel from Florida back to Cuba if
conditions were suitable during certain parts of the year.
The evidence for an AntilleanMesoamerican connection is also fraught with uncertainty, despite Callaghans (2011b) analysis of simulated voyages which show the relative
ease of drift voyages reaching this mainland from various origin points in the northern
Caribbean. As noted previously, similarities in lithic assemblages between parts of Central
America and the Greater Antilles led Wilson et al. (1998) to suggest early (Lithic) linkages
between the two regions, though the presence of architectural features and plazas such as
ball courts (batey), elbow stones, and stone collars found on some islands in the northern
Antilles during the Late Ceramic Age (post-A.D. 500) are the most commonly cited
evidence for this (Loven 1935; Rouse 1992: 112115; Fewkes 2009: 159163; 167173;
also Curet 1996).
In terms of bateys, there is disagreement about whether this was an indigenous
development or resulted from connections with northern Central America/southern Mexico
or the Isthmo-Colombian region (see Rodrguez Ramos 2011: 185186). Loven (2010:
633) stated that [s]tone collars are definitely a pure Tainan element. Roe (2005) in his
analysis of rock art in Puerto Rico argues that while some scholars may explain the cultural
transformations taking place through time on the islandseen through the lens of pictographs and petroglyphsas evidence of diffusionism from Mesoamerica, he remarks that:
While some contact is probable, the iconography and symbolism of the rock art argue
strongly against direct diffusion from Mesoamerica (along with the purported borrowing of the ball park and ball game phenomena). It points, instead, to the retention
and elaboration of cultural traits and institutions from the ancestral jungles of Guiana-Amazonia (Roe 2005: 291292).
Some similarities in language between northeastern Hispaniola and Honduras (Granberry and Vescelius 2004), and the discovery of plant remains in the Greater Antilles and
Virgin Islands (Rouse et al. 1990: 2930; Newsom and Wing 2004: 120121; Rodrguez
Ramos 2011) are also suggestive of a Central American connection. There are other
possible instances of connections between northwestern South America and southern
Mesoamerica (the Isthmo-Colombian area). Readers are referred to Rodrguez Ramos
(2011) who provides a good summary of these, including various cultivars, architectural
similarities, tools, prestige items, personal adornments, raw materials, and so on that are
suggestive of linkages between the Antilles and this area through time, yet by which
cultural modes or directions they took, and whether this was constant or waxed and waned
through time, is presently unclear.
The increasing number of sites in the Caribbean with evidence for maize consumption
(Mickleburgh and Pagan-Jimenez 2012) as well as other plants such as beans (Leguminosae/Fabaceae), zamia (Zamia portorricencis), sapodilla (Manilkara zapota), avocado
(Persea Americana), and yellow sapote (Poutevia campechiana) Newsom and Wing
(2004)coupled with widespread cultivation across parts of Mesoamerica and South
Americasuggests that these cultigens were making their way into the Antilles at some
point in time from somewhere, but their exact origin is also currently unknown. Maize, for
example, was first domesticated in Mexico, but spread rapidly to other parts of the
Americas (Staller et al. 2006). The earliest evidence for the introduction of maize into
South America has been the subject of debate (Bush et al. 1989; Freitas et al. 2003; Staller

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2003; Pearsall 2002, 2003; Pearsall et al. 2004), but it seems fairly clear that this cultigen
entered the Ecuadorian Amazon by at least 6000 B.P. Blakes (2006) review shows relatively few directly dated specimens of maize in South America, but reports indirect dates
for Colombia ca. 50006700 B.P. (coeval with early Central American chronologies) and
Venezuela Amazonia ca. 2500 B.P. Stable isotope signatures greater than -15 % from
human remains in Venezuela dating back to between 500 and 1000 B.P. are also suggestive
of maize consumption. While well-dated evidence of maize in the Caribbean is relatively
scant, it seems clear that it was being cultivated primarily post-1800 B.P. (Mickleburgh and
Pagan-Jimenez 2012), though maize pollen and phytoliths from the Dominican Republic
and Puerto Rico could possibly push the introduction back even earlier to ca. 3500 B.P.
(see review in Newsom 2006). Ultimately, not only will chronologies need to be resolved,
but genetic associations established to better discriminate from which direction (and when)
maize was introduced into the Caribbean. The possibility that it was introduced from
multiple locations should not be readily dismissed, though at this stage, it is premature to
suggest that the Caribbean served as a vector for the introduction of this cultigen into the
Southeastern United States as some earlier scholars suggested (Lathrap 1987; Sears 1977).
Perhaps the most intriguing argument for a MesoamericanAntillean connection in
recent years was the study by Harlow et al. (2006) who mineralogically analyzed a small
number (10) of jadeite axes from the island of Antigua. They suggested that the most
plausible source was Guatemala, though they noted that there may be as yet unknown
sources in a similar geological terrane (serpentinite-matrix melange) on Cuba, Hispaniola
or Jamaica [that] cannot be ruled out. However, shortly after this study was published,
Garcia-Casco et al. (2009), found a new jadeitite source in Cuba, while Schertl et al. (2012)
discovered another similar outcrop in the Dominican Republic, demonstrating for the first
time that there are indigenous sources of the material. Rodrguez Ramos (2010; see also
Knippenberg 2006) provides a summary of various green stones that have been found in
Caribbean archaeological contexts, including jadeite/jadeitite and serpentinite axes/celts,
pendents, amulets, and beads. While he argues that likely sources of these materials
probably originate from Central Americain part because there are no known sites in
Cuba or Hispaniola with finished jadeitite artifacts,4 but also that the dates for these
artifacts precede an Arawakan presence on these two islandsRodrguez Ramos (2010)
acknowledged that there was a lack of petrographic and geochemical data to currently
support this.
That other sources of jadeitite had been found in the Greater Antilles (Knippenberg
2006) seemed a much more parsimonious explanation than long-distance voyaging to
Guatemala or Mexico and one that Harlow et al. (2006) even predicted might be found.
Building on the earlier mineralogical analysis of jadeitite artifacts from the Caribbean by
Harlow et al. (2006), Garcia-Casco et al. (2013) examined in detail four jadeitite artifacts
from St. Eustatius dating post-A.D. 600 using various techniques to try and determine the
4

The absence of artifacts or manufacturing debris near an outcrop or even on the same island should not
necessarily be seen as a lack of evidence for exploitation of a resource. History is replete with examples
from island environments in which people ventured to a location (often smaller outcrops on another island)
to extract tool quality stone, but did not process the material on site. For example, Torrence (1986: 206,
214216) found that the majority of Melos obsidian from the Aegean was removed as unworked nodules and
that it was not necessarily a high value material; instead, it was the crafting of blades by specialists which
gave obsidian its value. This is also seen in the Pacific where most of the obsidian found on Santa Cruz
Island was brought in unmodified, including one cobble that was of such poor quality that it was never flaked
(Sheppard 1993). The point being is that the modification of a resource is what can actually give it value,
along with the social links forged by exchange, and the acquirers of a resource are not necessarily the ones
who modify it.

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best potential source location (i.e. Guatemala, Cuba, the Dominican Republic) and compare these findings with the artifacts previously studied from Antigua. While they noticed
considerable variation within the same geological localities, they propose that the most
plausible source is from the Motagua Valley in Guatemala. The authors acknowledge
though that the sample size is small and that other, yet undiscovered deposits of jadeitite
from the Caribbean and South America, could have also been used prehistorically.
Nonetheless, this type of detailed mineralogical and compositional study of lithic material
is a step in the right direction that will help establish the extent of interaction that occurred
between Antillean groups and their mainland neighbors and how these networks of
acquisition and exchange were structured through time.
In short, there has been much less archaeological survey in Cuba and Hispaniola
compared to the rest of the Antilles, and I would argue that further research is likely to
provide evidence of these and possibly other local sources from northern South America
being used prehistorically. The fact that there is a long history of local use and regional
exchange of prized greenstone, semiprecious stones (e.g. amethyst), and other less exotic
rocks dating back to the early Ceramic Age (500/400 B.C.A.D. 500) for manufacturing
(micro)lapidary items (Hofman et al. 2007; Knippenberg 2006)along with guann
(known as tumbaga in the Isthmo-Colombian region) a goldcopper alloy that was only
accessible from the mainlandSouth America, according to Bray (1997) and Oliver
(2005: 242), and Central America according to Rodrguez Ramos and Pagan Jimenez
(2007)point to a strong South American affiliation culturally, or simply geographically.
Rodrguez Ramos (2011: 182) also notes a fragment of a tumbaga artifact dating to A.D.
100 in northern Puerto that he interprets as deriving from Colombia. Hofman et al. (2011: 78)
note, however, that greenstone frog-shaped pendants and other exotic rock materials point
to connections with the tropical lowlands of South America, suggesting that guann may
have followed the same pathway.
As regards other stone resources, Rodrguez Ramos (2007, 2010: 29) states that obsidian
found on Puerto Rico likely has a Central American or an Andean origin. While the former
is certainly plausible given that there are no indigenous sources of obsidian known in the
Antilles (and the relative abundance of this material elsewhere, particularly Mesoamerica),
it is also quite possible that it came from a lowland South American source. Bellot-Gurlet
et al. (1999a, b, c, 2008) report on sources of obsidian from Ecuador and Colombia, and if
this resource had made its way into the Antilles, it would make more sense that it came
from here versus Mesoamerica. The possibility that this one particular flake made its way
to Puerto Rico naturally should also not be ruled out, given that obsidian is sometimes
associated with pumice which can float and disperse long distances over open ocean
(Bryan et al. 2012). Pumice floats have also been reported for the Caribbean (Donovan
1999).
Given that many of the ceramic styles, exotic stone and minerals, motifs, symbols,
numerous plants, and all of the animals known to have been translocated into the Caribbean originated from South America as well [including the Ceramic Age introduction of
agouti, opossum, armadillo, peccary, and guinea pig,5 the latter of which has its origin in
the Andean region (Giovas et al. 2012) and dates post-A.D. 500 (LeFebvre and deFrance
5

The geographical patchiness and early presence of some translocated animals found in the northern
Caribbean (Giovas et al. 2012) may point to introductions that were direct from the South American
mainland. For example, the earliest dates for guinea pig are found in Puerto Rico around A.D. 600
(LeFebvre and deFrance 2013), with other occurrences in the southern end of the distribution on Carriacou
occurring at least 300400 years later.

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2013)]not to mention a myriad of other objects or pendants made from the remains of
animals that originated from the same area (e.g. a polished and incised red brocker deer
mandible [Giovas et al. 2012]; perforated jaguar teeth)point to fairly consistent South
American connections through time.
Furthermore, the shared mainland iconography emphasizing jaguars, king vultures,
peccaries, caimans, manatees, possibly rodents like hutias6 (Indian coneys, Isolobodon portoricensis), and snakes on Saladoid ceramics, micro-lapidary work, and
ceremonial paraphernalia underscores the affiliations with the South American
mainland (Hofman et al. 2011: 78).
Nonetheless, the obsidian in question is from only a single blade found at Maruca
(Febles 2004) and is not sufficient enough to establish a direct connection given that it
could have traveled through various places first before reaching Puerto Rico and not
necessarily straight from the source. Given the ubiquity of obsidian use in Mesoamerica
(e.g. Saunders 2011), and its prized nature to peoples worldwide due to its various
physical, symbolic, and ritual properties, it would seem odd that if Caribbean Amerindians
had come into frequent contact with peoples in Mesoamerica using this resource, that they
would not have exploited it more fully through trade and exchange networks as is seen in
other world regions, including the Pacific, Mediterranean, Mesoamerica, Russian Far East,
and western North America. Ultimately, additional mineralogical and geochemical
sourcing efforts will help to resolve questions of where this and other lithic materials found
in Caribbean Pre-Columbian sites derived from (Knippenberg 2006). What the archaeological evidence shows is that most, if not all, lithic and other exotic rocks were exploited
from sources within the Antilles or South America. In addition, the fact that it is extremely
difficult to paddle eastward in the northwestern part of the Caribbean Sea given the
prevailing winds and currents (Callaghan 2003) further argues against a close direct
relationship with Central America in terms of guann, jadeites, or other exotic materials,
lithic or otherwise.
During the Archaic Age, which spans from ca. 5000500 B.C., many of the islands in
the Greater and Lesser Antilles were colonized, though the vast majority were located in
the Leeward Islands north of the Guadeloupe Passage (Callaghan 2010). Interestingly,
Jamaica and the Bahamas do not appear to have been settled until post-A.D. 600, and
neither the Caymans nor the San Andres archipelago currently have evidence for prehistoric occupation (Scudder and Quitmyer 1998; Stokes and Keegan 1996). Isla de la Juventud, the seventh largest island in the Caribbean, located only 50 km off of the
southwestern coast of Cuba, also appears to have been initially settled around the same
time. In the case of Jamaica, Callaghan (2008) suggests that a combination of maritime
conditions [i.e. higher than normal seas and unfavorable winds and currents] not experienced to the same degree elsewhere in the Antilles, and cultural needs and organizations
not conducive to the building of large canoes may be the underlying reasons why the
island, despite its relatively close proximity to Hispaniola, was not settled until much later
in time.

All known extant and extinct species of hutia are native to the Caribbean islands, primarily the Greater
Antilles (e.g. Woods 1989; Wilkins 2001). Hofman et al. (2011) may be confusing the hutia with the agouti
(Dasyprocta sp.), another rodent which was brought into the Caribbean Islands from South America prehistorically. See Giovas et al. (2012) for a recent summary of Neotropical animal introductions into the
Antilles.

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A Pacific corollary to this in terms of oceanographic conditions hindering seafaring is

the Palauan archipelago in the Western Caroline Islands of Micronesia. Palau is comprised
of hundreds of islands, the largest of which is Babelbaob at 330 km2. At its widest point,
the archipelago is 25 km across and stretches for over 160 km, making it a fairly visible
target for seafarers. Palau is 800 km equidistant from the Philippines to the west and Irian
Jaya to the south, and lies 400 km south of Yap; the islands of Yap and Guam lie
approximately 400 and 800 km north/northeast of Palau, respectively. What is interesting
is that all of the islands within 800 km of Palau in every direction, including atolls and reef
islets, were recorded and/or contacted by the Spanish in the early to mid-1520s, yet Palau
remained isolated from Europeans until the British packet the Antelope wrecked off of
Ulong Island in 1783. In fact, the Spanish referred to Palau as the Enchanted Islands
after trying numerous times to locate the archipelago after hearing from Jesuit missionaries
in the Philippines who in 1664 alone had recorded some 30 Carolinian canoes that had
accidentally drifted there and who spoke of inhabited islands to the east. Hezel (1972)
notes that between 1697 and 1711 there were eight recorded Spanish attempts to locate the
archipelago. Of these, only the Santissima Trinidad was successful, although they never
actually set foot on land due to unfavourable conditions. Computer simulations supported
the Spanish reports of their difficulties, demonstrating that adverse winds and currents
around Palau were highly influential in limiting contact (Callaghan and Fitzpatrick 2007).
What this example shows is that even direct attempts by very capable and long-distance
voyagers to find a known island or archipelago can be limited or unsuccessful due to
prevailing and seasonally fluctuating winds and currents.
There is also little evidence of Archaic settlements in the Lesser Antilles south of the
Guadeloupe Passage (Fitzpatrick 2006; Callaghan 2011a, b). To date, only the Heywoods
(Port St. Charles) site on Barbados has any chronological evidence for an early occupation
in the region, with six radiocarbon assays from secure contexts dating between c.
31002000 B.C., possibly making it the oldest Archaic site between Trinidad and Puerto
Rico (Fitzpatrick 2012). Later in time, ca. 500/400 B.C., the phenomenon of Saladoid
pottery showing up in the archaeological record on Puerto Rico and most islands
throughout the Lesser Antilles, but not further north or west into the Bahamas and the
remaining islands of the Greater Antillesand the fact that Jamaica and the Bahamas are
not settled until ca. A.D. 600 (the so-called long pausesee Keegan 2010)could point
to both social and environmental variables restricting movement.
Given the patterns of colonization and settlement that are currently visible archaeologically in the Caribbean islands through time, it appears that movement was certainly
influenced and even hampered by oceanographic and anemological conditions. This is
suggested by the known pattern of settlement during the Archaic and Ceramic Ages in
which the northern Antilles were, with the exception of Barbados,7 settled earlier than the
southern islands (e.g. Fitzpatrick 2006). The fact that Jamaica is less than 150 km from
Cuba, and various islands in the Bahamas Archipelago are within 100 km or so of both
Hispaniola and Cuba (with visual distances being even closer), but were settled so much
later in time (and the Caymans apparently never), points to seafaring conditions around the
northern Caribbean that were not conducive to the type of watercraft available and/or a
7

Barbados is somewhat anomalous in terms of Archaic settlement as it is the only island in the Lesser
Antilles south of the Guadeloupe Passage (comprising six major islands and many smaller ones across
several hundred kilometers) currently known to have evidence for a pre-500 B.C. settlement (Fitzpatrick
2012). Callaghan (2010) suggests that the high frequency of volcanism may have been a deterrent to
settlement; that Barbados is relatively flat and limestone in origin may lend credence to this theory (Fitzpatrick 2012).

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lack of more sophisticated navigational expertise (Callaghan 2008). However, the close
proximity of, and visual connectivity between, islands within the Lesser Antillean chain
from Grenada up to Anguilla, and from the Virgin Islands to Puerto Rico and the rest of the
Greater Antilles (as was demonstrated by Torres and Rodrguez Ramos [2008] in their GIS
analysis examining interisland visibility), are likely one major reason why smaller to midsize dugout canoes were satisfactory and did not necessarily need to be improved upon.
Some scholars have made comparisons between the Caribbean and Pacific, with Torres
and Rodrguez Ramos (2008: 25) suggesting that as with Polynesians, it is almost certain
that the peoples of the [Caribbean] islands were able to circumvent these [oceanographic,
environmental] constraints by their extensive knowledge of spatial referents in the physical
world that formed a network of related places between seascapes, landscapes, and human
action. It is still intriguing, however, why some patterns of expected settlement have not
yet emerged (e.g. late colonization of Jamaica and the Bahamas, the propensity for the
earliest Archaic and Saladoid sites to be in the northern Antilles, and the lack of connections seen archaeologically to other islands in the Caribbean, Florida and the rest of the
Gulf Coast). Torres and Rodrguez Ramos (2008: 25) also remark that [y]et as Polynesians were able to travel across distances that covered around a fourth of the circumference
of the globe even in very difficult seafaring conditions, it might have been possible for preColumbian navigators of the Caribbean to travel across large stretches in the open sea.
Hofman et al. (2011) also suggest that the movement of Saladoid groups from South
America into the Antilles might be compared to Lapitas colonization of Remote Oceania.
The extremely fast movement from the Bismarck Archipelago all the way to Polynesian Samoa, some 4,000 km to the east, resembles the Caribbean situation in
which approximately 1,500 km were bridged in a similarly short time span commencing around 400 B.C. (Hofman et al. 2011: 7677).
While Hofman et al. (2011) and others (e.g. Watters 1982) have argued that Saladoid
groups are similar to Lapita in that they likely needed to establish lifelines between
mother and daughter communities to help ensure survival and maintain important
trade connections (which was almost certainly the case for many island societies), it is
important to note that there are major differences in the oceanographical, geographical, and
environmental conditions involved, as well as the distances which needed to be covered
across open ocean. First, Hofman et al.s (2011) figure of 1,500 km for Saladoid migration
presumes that the Lesser Antilles were settled in a northward stepping-stone fashion from
somewhere along the Venezuelan littoral, not in a direct jump to the northern Antilles
which is only about half the distance (700800 km). As Callaghans (2001, 2003) seafaring
simulations have shown, the northern Antilles can be easily reached from Venezuela while
drifting in less than a week and vice versa, depending on the time of the year. In the former
scenario, if Saladoid groups followed a direct pathway through the Lesser Antillean arc by
hopping from island to island from the northern South American mainland to Puerto Rico,
the distance would indeed be 1,500 km, but only if reaching the eastern coast of Hispaniola
were the objective. The distance is actually closer to 1,0001,300 km to and across Puerto
Rico where Saladoid migration seems to have stopped. And, this does not take into account
that intervening islands would have been convenient stopovers, most of which (with the
exception of the far eastern island of Barbados) are only 5060 km apart at most until one
reaches Anguilla.
Even if this migration strategy was followed, it would have meant that Saladoid peoples
could continually see one island from the next (or multiple islands at midpoints in between)
and quite easily gain their bearings as they pushed north. However, the archaeological

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chronologies (Fitzpatrick 2006, 2013; Fitzpatrick and Giovas 2011; Fitzpatrick et al. 2010)
and seafaring simulations (Callaghan 2001, 2003) suggest that Saladoid groups may have
bypassed much of the Lesser Antilles c. 500/400 B.C., and instead, made a direct crossing
from South America to Puerto Rico or somewhere close to that vicinity. As Callaghan
(2001) demonstrated, this would have been a very plausible scenario considering that
winds and currents flow westward from the Atlantic into the Caribbean, essentially bottlenecking through the islands and making northward and eastward progress a difficult
endeavor (Callaghan 2001). The survivability rate of even drift voyagers from South
America would have been high too, considering that the trip would have taken canoes to
near or around Puerto Rico in less than a weeks time during many parts of the year.
This is in stark contrast to Lapita groups who left island Melanesia around 3,400 years
ago, about 1,000 years before Saladoid is thought to have ventured north from South
America. In this case, Lapita voyagers had to cross a minimum of 350 km to reach the
nearest large island of Ndeni, or a direct jump from the Solomons to Vanuatu involving
a crossing of more than 600 km. From Vanuatu to Fiji entails a trip of over 800 km, and
from Fiji to Samoa another 750 km. Current radiocarbon chronologies suggest that the
earliest stages of Lapita began on the island of Mussau around 34703250 cal B.P. and
then progressed through the rest of the Bismarck Archipelago between 3360 and 3240 cal
B.P. About 130290 years later, Vanuatu was settled 32503100 cal B.P., Fiji by
31303010 cal B.P. (Denham et al. 2012), and Tonga 28502900 cal B.P. (Burley et al.
2010) and followed shortly by (or contemporaneous with) Samoa 28802750 cal B.P.
(Petchey 2001).
While these Euclidean distances between major island groups are comparable to a direct
South America to Puerto Rico crossing (if that is what indeed occurred), the major difference is that voyaging eastward in the Pacific to first colonize islands in Remote Oceania
requires sailing against the prevailing winds and currents (Irwin 1992)or perhaps in
some cases, awaiting suitable shifts in wind direction that arise periodically occur as occurs
during ENSO events (Anderson et al. 2006) or other anomalous westerlies (Finney 1985).
This would have required sailing technology with some form of stabilization such as an
outrigger (Doran 1981; Irwin 2008), not to mention very sophisticated navigational
techniques (e.g. Finney 1977; Irwin 1992; Lewis 1970, 1994). The proposed 1,500 year
long pause evident between the colonization of East Polynesia from the west is suggestive of a delay due to a lack of adequate voyaging and navigational technologies such as
the double hulled canoe and different sail configurations. Combined with the need for
enhanced oceanographic and environmental knowledge to settle some of the most remote
islands on earth (Hawaii, Easter Island, New Zealand), the late but rapid settlement of East
Polynesia ca. A.D. 10251290 (Willmshurst et al. 2011) is a testament to the need for a
suite of technological and navigational capabilities to move across this seemingly endless
ocean. In addition, it is important to remember that the figures for distance listed above are
straight line distances and do not factor in the zig-zag pattern of voyaging required when
tacking or shunting against the winds, making the distances covered and time involved
much longer. Essentially, the Lapita movement does not resemble the Saladoid migration
at all in terms of distance (either 700 km or so from South America to Puerto Rico or
1100 km from Grenada to Puerto Rico in a stepping stone movement, versus 2800 km
from the Solomons to Samoa, with few intervening islands, for example) or seafaring
technologies required, though the number of years it took to occupy islands across each
respective realm was roughly the same (700800 years).
The seafaring capabilities of Caribbean Amerindians clearly allowed them to colonize
islands in the Antilles as early as 7,0008,000 years ago, and many islands in the Leewards

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between 4000 and 5000 B.P. They also probably did so at various points in time using
direct sea crossings from South America to the Greater Antilles. However, these movements could have easily been done repeatedly by groups in smaller canoes that held
relatively few people using very basic navigational techniques and over a fairly short
period of time (days, not weeks or months) as was demonstrated by Callaghan (2001, 2003,
2011b) in his seafaring simulations. Although the Pacific Basin contains thousands of
islands, most of these are small and low lying atolls such as the Tuamotus, Kiribati, the
Marshalls, and the Carolines which are more difficult to see and require a suite of navigational skills to (re)locate such as island looking, sea knowing, dragging, schematic mapping, and most importantly, the sidereal (celestial) compass (e.g. see Dodd 1972;
Lewis 1970, 1994; Irwin 1992). Given the sheer size of the Pacific too, which comprises
1/3 of the worlds surface area (larger than all of the continents and other land masses
combined), at 165.2 million km2 is 66 times the size of the Caribbean Sea and more than
40 times the size of the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico combined (Fig. 10)and that also
contains islands which define the terms small and remoteit is difficult, if not
impossible, to equally compare Lapita, Polynesians, or other Pacific Islanders with
Amerindians in the Caribbean. There is also an extremely high likelihood that drifting
boats would make landfall in a matter of days or weeks, whereas in the Pacific, there are
numerous historical and modern cases demonstrating that this could take months, with
many never making landfall and instead, being rescued by merchant ships.
But, it is these variablessize, remoteness, oceanography, island configuration, among
othersthat influenced the level of seafaring technologies required in each of these

Fig. 10 Map of the Pacific Basin with inset of the Caribbean Sea showing the contrast in size. Cuba is
roughly the same size as Luzon in the northern Philippines

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respective aquatic realms to reach other islands and mainlands. As Anderson (2004: 264)
cogently noted, sailing was a well-developed technology in the Mediterranean and to a
certain degree, in Celtic Western Europe. But islands in the North Atlantic do not seem to
have been colonized until much later in time when there was a sudden increase in several
important seafaring technologies, namely an increased keel depth and deadrise angles
which was then soon followed by the sail (Anderson 2004: 264). As Anderson (2004: 266)
also surmises, it was likely the arrival of the sail three millennia ago in island Melanesia
that allowed Lapita peoples to first venture into Remote Oceania. That the colonization of
the Pacific appears to have taken place in several major pulses suggests that the development of the larger double-hulled canoes and various technological innovations such as
the crab claw sail seen in Polynesia at European contact (see Doran 1981), outfitted with a
central platform lashed over the top of crossbeams, allowed them to travel exceptionally
long distances with two dozen or more people along with their provisions, including
various plants and animals such as pigs, dogs, and chickens. Combined with a sophisticated
knowledge of the stars for navigating, recognition of smaller landforms such as atolls vis-a`vis reflections in the clouds and changing wave patterns, among other skills, their ability to
traverse the oceanic realm was virtually unmatched in the ancient world (Doran 1981;
Finney 1977; Irwin 1992, 2008; Lewis 19948).
Given these various issues, it is clear that these technologies were all developed and
required to settle islands that were in general so much smaller and remote than the islands
of the Caribbean, and that were not bordered on all sides by relatively close land masses. In
the Caribbean, where many of the islands are intervisible from one another (or a point in
between), and where even drifting from the South American mainland to the Greater
Antilles or back could take place in as little as six days (Callaghan 2003), it is not
surprising that anything more than dugout canoes would have been needed for much of the
maritime movement and exchange activities that took place. While Hofman et al. (2010)
contend that an aquatic motorway was always present, the archaeological and historical
evidence instead suggests the presence of well-worn maritime pathways that were on the
one hand extremely effective when moving between islands and venturing to South
America and back, but on the other, limited in scope and lacking solid connections to other
mainland areas as evidenced by the disparate chronologies of settlement throughout the
region and lack of stronger affiliations in terms of exotic resources, plants, animals, and
iconography. That three of the seven largest islands in the Caribbean (Isla de la Juventud,
Jamaica, and Andros in the Bahamas) appear to have been settled between 3,500 and
5,500 years after other nearby islands such as Cuba, Hispaniola, and Puerto Rico, is telling
indeed.
What Callaghans (2011b) simulations demonstrate quite clearly is that two way
movement between the northern Antilles and South America was relatively easy (except
for perhaps Jamaica and the Caymans), depending on the time of the year, but that drifting/
paddling to Mesoamerica, at least, was predominantly a one-way affair in terms of ease and
likelihood of travelheading in the opposite direction across the open sea against the
prevailing winds and currents would have been largely untenable based on known propulsion capabilities. That westward currents are strong along the northern South American
coast suggests that this would have also been a challenging endeavor.
Current archaeological evidence suggests that connections between the Antilles and
mainland areas were taking place across time and space, but at which points in time, and
how these were spatially structured, are in many ways unknown and still under
8

For a useful reference guide on Pacific navigation and voyaging, see Goetzfridt (1992).

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investigation. Edwards (1969: 910) suggested four possible scenarios to explain these
occurrences and how exchange relationships may have been structured:
1. Non-stop voyaging in open sea;
2. Fairly rapid coastwise voyaging without trading at way ports;
3. Extensive coastwise trading areas, but with restricted individual trading areas, the
goods being passed from one culture to another for final acceptance near the end of the
network; or
4. Leisurely coastwise trading voyages, with cultural preferences for the artifacts in
question only near theend(s) of the trading area.
Of these options, it seems clear that any two-way interaction with Mesoamerica or the
Isthmo-Colombian region would have likely been initiated from the Antilles (Callaghan
2010), with subsequent trips back having taken place by skirting the northern South
American littoral. While the mechanisms for the exchange of various items around the
circum-Caribbean are still under investigation, a coastal hopping or terrestrial down-theline exchange model of movement of animals, commodities, knowledge, etc. both within
and external to the Antilles seems as if it would have been the most likely strategy for
interaction taking place apart from the direct crossing to and from the South American
mainland made possible by the prevailing winds and currents (i.e. best demonstrated by
scenarios 3 and 4 in Edwards [1969]). More intensive archaeological investigations in
northern Colombia and Venezuela may prove fruitful in finding evidence for this
occurring.

Conclusions
While prehistoric seafaring in the Caribbean was not as sophisticated as that found in the
Pacific or other seas and oceans of the world such as the Mediterranean (Broodbank 2006)
and North Atlantic, their expert use in building dugouts, some of which probably exceeded
20 meters in length and could have transported dozens of peopleand which were also
used for harvesting pelagic resources such as tuna (Scombridae) and flying fish (Exocoetidae) (e.g. Newsom and Wing 2004: 51)are a strong testament to their adaptation to a
wide array of marine environments which was crucial for their long-term survival. The
dugout canoe for ancient Amerindiansmany of whom were concentrated in coastal
villages and along river drainageswas an important and vital tool for subsistence,
exchange relationships, communication, and daily travel. It was also pivotal in establishing
and maintaining interaction between individuals and groups on islands throughout the
Caribbean as well as between the Antilles and mainlands, primarily, and perhaps almost
exclusively, South America.
Edwards (1969), in examining possible Pre-Columbian connections and contacts
between societies in the New World, noted that the difficulties the Spanish encountered in
traversing the Caribbean should not necessarily be imposed onto Amerindian canoes. Yet,
as Callaghan (2011b: 71) and other scholars have shown in the Caribbean and Pacific
(Horvath and Finney 1976), paddling against the prevailing currents and (westerly) winds
is extremely challenging and limited by the level of human endurance given that paddling
was the sole form of propulsion. This is why seafaring technologies in the Pacific,
including the outrigger and sail, were developedthe winds could be harnessed to take
advantage of their power, regardless of the prevailing or seasonal directions they took. As
such, limitations in seafaring technologies, particularly the lack of the sail, stabilization

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techniques (e.g. outriggers), planking (versus the ubiquitous dugout construction found in
the region), double-hull configuration, and the suite of navigational skills seen elsewhere in
the world such as the Pacific, seems to have been the direct result of oceanographic and
anemological conditions which allowed travel to be a far easier endeavor to and from
South America and between most of the islands in the Caribbean once they were reached
than what is seen in the Pacific. As can clearly be seen in Fig. 11, the timing of the sail is
strongly correlated to lengthier passages seen archaeologically in the North Atlantic and
Pacific.
Minimum passage distance (km)
1000

2000

3000

1
2

Farmers

OCEANIA Double-hulled canoes?

SAIL / Outrigger?

5
100

Minimum passage distance (km)

300

400

500

600

700

SAIL
2

12

5
6
7

100

1
2
3

20

21

22

10

23

200

300

Farmers

10

Minimum passage distance (km)

Years x 1000

Years x 1000

11

NORTH ATLANTIC

Farmers

Foragers

200

Foragers

Years x 1000

CARIBBEAN

Archaic Foragers

24
25
26

Fig. 11 Changes in minimum passage distance in Oceania and the North Atlantic before and after the
development of sailing technology which illustrates how effective this was at extending open ocean
voyaging. This can be compared to the Caribbean where sailing was absent and which restricted longdistance movement (adapted from Anderson 2004: 262; figure 13.1). It should be noted that passage
distances shown for the Caribbean in the range of 100200 km are not reflective of the greater
(500700 km) distances traveled if direct passages had been made between the northern South American
mainland to the Greater Antilles or northern Lesser Antilles as is surmised by seafaring simulations
(Callaghan 2001, 2003) and radiocarbon chronologies (Fitzpatrick 2006). This is a function of prevailing
winds and currents, however, and not related to enhanced seafaring technologies

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The visibility of many of the Antilles was also enhanced by the geologically young
nature of the Lesser Antilles arc, which are characterized by high mountainous peaks that
greatly increase the intervisibility of islands as was demonstrated by Torres and Rodrguez
Ramos (2008). This is in contrast to much of the Pacific Basin where a vast majority of the
islands are low-lying atolls that require a completely different set of skills to (re)locate.
But, these environmental constraints also had the effect of reducing connections or landfalls in many parts of the Caribbean through time. This ranges from the much later dates of
colonization of the Bahamas and Jamaica compared to other nearby islands, to the chronological disparities for when Archaic and Saladoid groups settled the Antilles, the
apparent absence of occupation on the Caymans and San Andres Archipelago, and the
general lack of archaeologically visible connections to Mesoamerica and the Gulf Coast of
the United States. As Anderson (2004: 266) notes, [t]echnical variation in seafaring,
within its climatic context, largely created the pattern of Oceanic settlement; the same
could also be said for the Caribbean.
In a volume by Curet and Hauser (2010) entitled Islands at the Crossroads Migration,
Seafaring, and Interaction in the Caribbean, many of the chapters emphasize the possible
connections that Antillean groups had with mainland areas. Rodrguez Ramos (2011: 183)
remarks that [f]or those of us working in the insular Caribbean, [the] evidence underlines
the need to open our eyes to areas beyond northeastern South America for understanding
the cultural relationships of the peoples that migrated to the area during this period and
their reasons for doing so. While there are tantalizing reasons to believe this, the clear
connections that Antillean groups had through time still seem to be largely centered on
northern South America. There is obviously no reason to think that connections (as
opposed to interactions) were exclusively limited to this part of the circum-Caribbean, but
establishing whether interaction was occurring between the Antilles and other mainland
areas will require a more rigorous regime of geochemical and mineralogical sourcing
studies of lithics and pottery, aDNA recovery from human and animal remains, genetic
determination of plants, and stylistic analyses of artifacts that are not simply subjective
judgments of similarity, coupled with high resolution radiocarbon chronologies from well
stratified deposits. Of equal importance is sorting assumptions about modes of exchange
(e.g. direct acquisition versus down-the-line) which is as much needed for animal translocations as it is for lapidary objects or ceramics.
Curet & Hauser (2010: 231) suggest that archaeologists should concentrate on identifying cases of interactions first and boundaries second, the inverse of what has traditionally
occurred in the Caribbean when attempting to examine exchange behaviors. In general, I
am in agreement, considering that from a theoretical perspectivethis approach views
boundaries as static and passive objects (Curet and Hauser 2010: 231), which can certainly limit our understanding of culture change and the mechanisms responsible. But, as I
have demonstrated with the examination of Pre-Columbian seafaring capabilities in the
Caribbean, we should also be cautious in not considering the sea as an aquatic perimeter
(sensu Fitzpatrick and Anderson 2008) or boundary that needed to be breached and that
was in many ways a limiting force for various Pre-Columbian peoples at different places
and points in time. It is clear that more intensive archaeological investigations along many
parts of the circum-Caribbean such as the Florida Keys, northern Venezuela, and the
Ithsmo-Colombian region will be key to understanding how and when the transfer of
commodities, ideas, and knowledge took place between Antillean groups across time and
space.
In sum, McKusicks (1960) general assessment of Caribbean Amerindian seafaring
lacking open ocean capabilities still seems to be the case more than fifty years later. These

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groups were in fact very capable seafarers. But, they do not appear to have been ultra-long
distance and ideologically charged voyagers (sensu Broodbank 2006). If this were the case,
we would expect to see a much different compendium of maritime skills, colonization
events, and interaction spheres than is currently visible in the archaeological record.
Acknowledgments A shorter version of this paper was originally presented in a symposium at the 2011
Southeastern Archaeological Conference in Jacksonville, FL on prehistoric canoes. I thank the organizers,
Donna L. Ruhl and Phyllis E. Kolianos, for the kind invitation to participate in the session. Thanks also go to
Leslie Hazell and John Swogger for drafting illustrations of several of the figures used in the paper, as well as
Leslie Hazell, John Cherry, Christina Giovas, Robin Torrence, Richard Callaghan, and an anonymous reviewer
for providing useful comments and suggestions that improved various aspects of the paper. I also acknowledge
the mentoring and friendship of Peter Drewett who recently passed away in April 2013 and was responsible for
first introducing me to Caribbean archaeology on the island of Barbados over 20 years ago.

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