Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (22 page)

“I believe not, sir.”

“Perhaps that is even better. Those two boys, God bless them, spread a kind word last night. Let us greet our new visitors properly, eh, pilot? See what the cook has prepared that we can offer them, and have Manuel choose several finer pieces from our trade merchandise.”

“Very good, sir.”

Paulo appeared at the cabin door with his master's bucket of water. Beckoning his servant inside, Cabrillo said in parting to their pilot. “I will be on deck shortly.”

It took few moments before he joined his pilot, Master Uribe, and Father Lezcano just as the men from the canoe were being helped aboard. From their appearance and manner Cabrillo guessed that these three Indians, each taller and broader-chested than the average Spaniard by a couple of inches, had prepared themselves for this encounter with as much understanding of its potential importance as their hosts.

Their waist-length cloaks, the finest specimens of clothing Cabrillo had seen during the voyage, still brandished the beauty of the animals that had provided skins for their construction. One cloak had been made from the fur of foxes, one from rabbits, and the last had originated from what Cabrillo guessed to be sea otters. From waist to knee they were covered by skirts of woven plant fibers overlain with long eagle feathers. Their hair was also adorned with feathers, the largest array worn by their apparent leader, who also bore the longest cloak. Tied at the throat but spread open across the chest, the cloaks framed wavy horizontal rows of white body paint. Beautifully delicate multicolored shells had been artfully strung to form necklaces and bracelets. Each warrior carried a fur-wrapped bundle secured by a strap slung over his shoulder and resting against his back as he stood before the officers.

Cabrillo bowed cordially, gestured for them to be seated, and soon had them all arranged in a conversational oval upon the deck. Unlike the previous exchanges with coastal Indians, the speaker of this group attempted communication without any encouragement. It was made clear that the villagers on the beach the day before had discussed their first encounter when their leader hailed the fleet's commander with, “We greet Chief Cabrillo.”

Cabrillo bowed, returned the gesture of salutation, and said, “Father Lezcano, will you please use your skill to determine his name?”

His priest tried, but he received such a lengthy and confusing verbal reply that he had to make a second attempt, and a third. Even then it was quite impossible to divine which syllables were to be used as a polite address. The chief at last simply moved the dialogue along to the topic uppermost in his mind. Using vocalization sparingly, his hands introduced the story now becoming familiar to the seafarers. Father Lezcano managed to gather the following. “They have heard of men like us, sir, from their people in the east. These bearded men, whom they called Guacamal, wore clothing similar to ours. They were also armed as we are with swords and crossbows.” Now the Indian stood and motioned as if he were lifting a lance and thrusting it through an enemy. He then pantomimed a man riding on horseback. Cabrillo nodded his understanding. After sitting down again, the chief observed Cabrillo keenly as he explained through Father Lezcano, “As these warriors made their way inland they kill a great number of our people.”

Cabrillo's expression indicated a disapproval of the slayings as he said to Father Lezcano, “Again, I can only guess this was Coronado. Ask him to continue, Father.”

The Indian went on signing, “These stories made my people fearful. But I have also heard of your visit with the two boys. You offered gifts rather than war, after my men shot arrows at your men. That is not the way of the other bearded ones.”

Cabrillo nodded in appreciation for this distinction. “Tell him, Father, that we seek his friendship. We invite him and his men to eat with us and to accept our gifts as a sign of this new understanding.”

These wishes were relayed but the Indian objected, and Father Lezcano explained uncertainly, “He seems to be saying that his people must first make us an acceptable offering.”

“For what, Father?”

After several questing exchanges the priest said, “I believe, sir, that he wants to give you something in payment for the men who were wounded last night. He is evidently trying to determine the compensation that must be paid to you. He asks whether the men died.”

Concealing his surprise, Cabrillo called forward Vargas and the other two men who had been wounded, and Father Lezcano told the chief who they were. The three Indians stood up and closely inspected each man to confirm that the arrows had not inflicted lasting harm. Satisfied, the chief now brought forward his bundle and with obvious reverence withdrew the meticulously tanned skin of an albino deer. He held it out and gravely offered it to Cabrillo.

Highly impressed by its beauty and rarity, the captain-general accepted the skin by bowing with a formal grace that needed no word of interpretation. He was about to declare the debt between them fully forgiven, but paused. He perceived something in the native's manner that betrayed an expectation of further bargaining, countering the silent implication that a perfectly adequate compensation had just been offered. This, and the fact that the bundles of the other Indians still rested against their backs, led him to exhibit a look of deep concern. When he spoke, his tone emphasized his wrestling with a dilemma. “Tell him, Father, that we thank him for this uncommon and valuable gift, but the welfare of my men is of greater worth to me than one skin, regardless of its beauty.”

It was evident from the accepting, even approving, expression of the chief that Cabrillo's response had been anticipated. Like two duelists the native leader and the captain-general now began to maneuver, making one bartering thrust and parry after another, all the while taking in the character and strength of the other. Their expressions began to warm with mutual respect. When at last Cabrillo paused to make a tally of the furs, shells, flint knives, soapstone bowl, and bow and arrows before him, he said to the chief. “Since my men will live, these gifts make me satisfied. The incident of last night will be forgotten.”

Pleased with this conclusion, the chief bowed in perfect imitation of Cabrillo's earlier gesture.

“Now,” said Cabrillo, “I ask that you accept the items we offer from one friend to another.” Not wanting to disturb the balance of fairness that had been established between them, Cabrillo was careful to select only those articles that might be esteemed in reciprocal measure. He had Father Lezcano hand the goods out and watched the wonder and delight of his guests unfold. In moments the Indians stood draped in bright fabric cheerfully ringing small hawk's bells. The Indian chief approached and embraced Cabrillo, and this well-meaning gesture ignited a round of hugging by his two companions that didn't ease until the shoulders of every officer and many of the men had been warmly clasped. Manuel bore it with tolerance when he was pulled into the affable clutches of native fingers that slapped and rubbed his black skin with particular fascination.

At this time the captains of the other ships were invited to join them on the
San Salvador
for a meal of fried fish flavored with garlic, bean soup, fresh flat bread, and honeyed almonds, all of which the natives seemed to enjoy. During their repast Cabrillo had his scribe record the exchange of basic native words such as “fish,” “boy,” “wood,” “rope,” “knife,” and “hand.” One word,
ikuch
, seemed to mean leader, man, or warrior. When Cabrillo tentatively referred to the Indian chief by this term, he seemed pleased and was thereafter referred to as Ikuch by the captain-general. As the meal progressed, good-natured banter, both verbal and manual, flowed across the deck with increasing frequency.

The cabin boys were just gathering the trenchers and cups when the wind began to rise.

Cabrillo lifted his face and studied the sky. “A devilish storm may not be far off. Father Lezcano, we must induce our guests to return to their village.” But the Indians were already getting to their feet without encouragement, eyeing the far-off clouds and sniffing the air in their own evaluation of nature's changing mood. They made their way to the railing where their leader halted and turned back to face Cabrillo. He gestured the “farewell” sign of his people and then bowed to the captain-general in a manner so polished it would have fooled many at the Spanish court. The captain-general returned this salute and said with his hands, voice, and eyes, “Well met, my friend.”

When the rain started it fell lightly enough but Cabrillo was not fooled. Although the fleet had been unusually fortunate to avoid facing anything more threatening than strong headwinds during their voyage thus far, the captain-general had been forced to fight storms at sea in previous years. His gut sensed what was to come. As the thunder strengthened from growls to explosions and the rain thickened from sprinkles to torrents, Cabrillo repeatedly gave thanks for this blessedly snug harbor. They felt little more than soft reverberations of the ravaging wind and waves that might have crushed them on the open sea.

Seven hours later, the storm gentled and faded away to the southeast, leaving behind a cleansed and flower-scented evening of stunning, sparkling beauty. Cabrillo stood at his stern rail facing shore and pulled in a doublet-stretching breath, and then another. His pilot joined him, and they looked with admiration at a land that the last two days had enhanced with such promise.

“We must maintain our vigilance,” said Cabrillo, “but there is magic in the air tonight, eh, pilot?”

“Be it magic or, as Father Gamboa would maintain, God's majesty, this harbor is magnificent, sir.”

“Judging from the health and size of its people, they lack nothing in the way of food or medicine.”

“No, indeed, sir. Once we learn their language, perhaps they will share some of their secrets.” San Remón added with a grin, “I would not mind adding a few inches to my own stature.”

Cabrillo returned his smile, and their conversation wandered from the mysteries of the bay to the needs of the ship and the men, and what lay in the waters and lands ahead. At last they stilled their voices and surrendered to the quiet realm of the sleeping harbor.

Though the following day was a Sunday, Cabrillo didn't want to chance unsettling the natives again by landing a large party, even to attend a Mass. He did allow two small groups to gather firewood, but these men had strict orders to remain very near the shore, and two other boats were kept ready to come to their aid in the event a call was raised. The precaution proved unnecessary and his men returned to their ships without espying a single Indian.

The next day, while the ships awaited an agreeable change in the wind, Cabrillo hoped that peaceful natives would make an appearance, but all remained hidden. Yet the sense of being watched never left him. These people may have moved to what they felt to be a safer distance from their intruders, he thought, but some had remained behind to keep watch over the bay. He longed to visit their village but knew he dared not. Small streams of smoke rose from deep within the lush greenery, greatly tantalizing Cabrillo's curiosity about the ways of these people. Were the customs measurably different from those of the Aztec and Maya? What idols did they worship? What skills did they teach their young? What were their houses like? Were their women attractive? His musings recalled Beatriz' fear that his voyage would lead him to meet the legendary Calafia, and he smiled inwardly before his thoughts were reclaimed by the Indians of this bay. He remembered their favorable impression of Manuel. The blacks aboard his ships must be the first of their kind seen by these natives. He hoped the novelty of the blacks, horses, clothing, weapons, and trade goods would work to their peaceful advantage in the days to come.

When the light of early dawn shone brightly enough to allow one last sweeping gaze over the deserted beach, Cabrillo committed all that he could see to his memory. He delayed no longer the weighing of anchors or setting of sails, and soon the
San Salvador
led the way to the mouth of the harbor. His men were hale and willing after their stay here, and those who had been wounded were healing without complication. Asia and duty beckoned with a renewed will.

Glancing back at the landscape, Cabrillo said, “I leave this place with yearning, Manuel. I hope we will return.”

“Perhaps so, Captain-General. Perhaps many times.”

“I would dearly love to wander at will in those hills and valleys. Their beauty entices a man to venture closer, with a draw almost as powerful as a striking woman.”

Chapter 11

I
SLAND ENCOUNTER

R
enewing speculations over why men might repeatedly set their world ablaze, the crews watched great billows of smoke rolling upward to mingle with an older, broader layer hanging over the landscape to the east. Since leaving the port of San Miguel they'd been generously favored with three days of fair weather, but as they'd sailed up the coast the fires that generated the gray haze had grown in number and size, signaling a dramatic increase in the number of inhabitants and bringing the seamen to a heightened level of alertness.

As Mateo and Cabrillo also concentrated on the smoke hovering above the coastal hillsides and hollows, the boy asked, “Are they not destroying their land, sir?”

“Fire is not always destructive, Mateo. It can clear and cleanse the earth. Perhaps they are encouraging a crop to grow, but which crop I do not know.”

“Then they are farmers, sir?”

“They may not till the land, but they evidently harvest what they can. They hunt too, or they would not have the skins they wear.”

“And they fish, sir. There were piles of clamshells on the beach at San Miguel.”

“So there were. We have learned a few of their ways, but we still have many questions in need of answers.”