You'll try an encomienda

After a few days of deep thought, you return to the governor. He greets you happily, eager to hear your choice. "I've considered it, and I think I would most like to manage an estate." The governor smiles. ""An excellent choice! As a representative of the Crown, I am entitled to grant you lands for your estate, which will be held by you and your heirs into perpetuity." He begins rifling through his desk again, pulling out papers. "I'll have one of my assistants scout out a good piece of property, then we'll procure you some Indians to work it. They will help to construct the necessary buildings and et cetera. If you want any guards or the services of a priest however, that must come from your own pocket unfortunately. Your first few years will be without tax as you found your operations, then you will make your payments to my office." He takes out the law book again from before and hands it to you. "Take this, I have other copies. You'll need to know it for the management of your estate. I wish you the greatest success my friend!" You part from the governor's office an hour after sharing a few drinks and light conversation, satisfied that you made the right choice.

After a few weeks of sitting around at the inn, the basics of your encomienda have been established and you have received the deed of ownership from the governor. A nice piece of farmland has been found and cleared, and the fields only await your guidance for planting. Simple huts have been built for your workers, to be eventually replaced with more permanent, Spanish-style housing. Before you go to your property, you think it will be wise to get a few trustworthy Spaniards into your service. Under recommendation from Sancho, you look for a friend of his named Diego.

You follow the directions Sancho gave you, and see a small, worn-down shack. You knock, and a small, pot-bellied man comes to open the door. "Yes Senor?" he asks politely. "I'm looking for Diego, I was told by a certain Sancho that he would make a good servant." The little fat man brightens immediately. "That is me, Senor. I would be happy to enter the service of a fine gentleman such as yourself." Diego bows respectfully. He may not look like much, but already like him much better than scatter-brained Sancho. "What skills do you have?" you ask, still unsure about hiring him. He straightens back up and looks upward and counts off on his fingers, apparently searching his memory. "Well, as you may see Senor, I am not a man well-suited to fighting, though I can aim an arquebus adequately if needed. I've lived here longer than just about anyone else here, so if you need to know anything about the island, I'm probably your best choice, unless you speak Taino." Sounds useful. "Taino?" you ask, looking to test his knowledge. "Oh, the language of the Indians. I know a little of their language; the locals', at least. You know of the warlike tribes from the other islands I take it? Those raiders are different, called Caribs. Different language, different looks, different character. Anything else you need to know, sir?" Yes, a man like this would be very helpful. "No more questions Diego. Pack your things, we have an estate to get to."