Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (25 page)

Under the scrutiny of the chieftain Cabrillo felt suddenly gratified that he had allowed Paulo to have his way when insisting that he wear some of his finer clothing for this meeting. The captain-general, however, had not been willing to relinquish his polished chest plate or trade his helmet for a plumed hat. He hoped his armor now gave a good impression as it flashed brightly in the morning sun.

Allowing an instinctive nudge to compel his feet farther forward, Cabrillo walked up to the Indian, spread his arms wide, and embraced him. Surprised but quickly recovering, the chief returned the stranger's hug. Each man released the other but only to clasp forearms and take a moment longer to evaluate the mind and soul of the man before him. With their close gazes meeting on a level plane, Cabrillo hid nothing of his own curiosity or desire for friendliness. The chief's face became just as open and hopeful as he studied the foreigner.

When at last they relaxed their grips, Cabrillo stepped back and relayed through signs and words, “We greet the people of this land and wish to trade with you in peace.”

Father Lezcano interpreted the chief's reply, saying, “We welcome you, men of the sea. Come, and we will trade.”

Following the chief's lead, Cabrillo, his men, and the entire village made their way along a sandy path between large dome-shaped houses covered with woven thatch. Knowing his disappearance from the beach would cause uneasiness among his shipboard officers but sensing very little danger and enjoying a great thrill to be entering the village, Cabrillo took in every human, canoe, dwelling, plant, basket, tool, and fire pit he passed. His fingers began to itch for his quill.

In front of a house big enough to accommodate fifty people, the chief stopped and signaled for Cabrillo to be seated near the center of an immense rectangular mat that had been placed on the open ground. He complied, with Father Lezcano and Manuel taking flanking positions on each side. The chief sat down facing Cabrillo and his entourage settled around and behind him. Once the shifting of bodies began to still, Cabrillo ordered Vargas' men to bring forward a chest of trade goods and place it nearby. But before the bartering activities commenced, however, the chief raised one of his hands and began to speak.

Listening and watching attentively, Father Lezcano waited for the chief to pause and explained in undertones to Cabrillo, who had already understood much of what had been communicated, “He says his people live on this coast and on the islands that lie northwest of here, sir. I can not be sure, but I believe his name is Wocha.”

Since the chief patiently awaited a reply from Cabrillo, the captain-general pointing at the native leader as he asked, “Wocha?”

“Wocha!” he said firmly as he placed a hand upon his chest.

Cabrillo nodded and repeated the name with much respect. Then the captain-general said, “Cabrillo!” using the same tone and patting his own chest.

Wocha pronounced his name accurately, and both men smiled in satisfaction at this small victory.

Now that the initial formalities had been conducted, Wocha, a word Cabrillo would later learn meant only “leader” in the Chumash tongue, told them with evident sincerity that the bearded men who had landed by the big river could be reached in seven days.

Confronted anew by this recurring issue and reminded of his orders to offer aid to Coronado, Cabrillo asked, “Father, can you discover anything more specific, such as the name of their leader or where these men might now be found?”

The priest tried, but the chief had evidently provided them with all that he knew.

Torn between sending a couple of his men on what could well be a fool's errand or worse and failing to attempt a connection with someone that might need their aid, Cabrillo heeded Master Uribe's urgings for caution. He said to his priest, “Tell him, father, that I will write words upon a paper that can be taken to the bearded men. I will tell them of the friendship of Wocha and these people. If I do this, ask if two of his runners will deliver it to the men at the big river?”

The terms “write” and “paper” challenged the priest's translating skills, but soon the idea of their purpose was roughly conveyed.

Fascinated by such wondrous claims, Wocha wished to know more before consenting, and Cabrillo had Manuel pull from his pouch the writing materials he'd brought for his master's use. Wocha learned forward and villagers gathered closer for a better look as Cabrillo spread a parchment sheet atop his writing board, dipped his quill, wrote the word “Wocha” and handed the sheet to the chief. Pointing to the word, Cabrillo pronounced it slowly and then aimed his finger at the chief.

Wocha's brows lifted in wonder as he examined the curling, looping line. Giving the paper back, he said, “Cabrillo,” and motioned for that designation to be written. When the new word rested beneath Wocha's title, Cabrillo again presented the sheet to the chief. So impressed was Wocha with this magnificent process that he began to point at people, both red and white, and then inanimate objects, telling Cabrillo the native names and then watching absorbedly as the captain-general wrote each of these down. Whenever he could, Father Lezcano helped provide a Spanish translation to a name, until Cabrillo, nearly as delighted as his host, had filled the first page of a primitive lexicon.

Pleased as he was at this excellent exchange, Cabrillo had not forgotten the issue at hand. After having Manuel carefully store the filled page in his oversized pouch, he again wrote the word Wocha on a clean sheet of parchment. This time, he made the letters as artistically decorative as his talents allowed and handed the page to the chief as a gift.

Wocha took the parchment from Cabrillo with gravest gratitude.

Cabrillo said to Father Lezcano, “Please ask him if he will now agree to send runners with a written message to the bearded men, the ones he calls Taquimine.”

Father Lezcano translated this and then conveyed the chief's careful response, “What will your message say?”

Nodding his approval of this query, Cabrillo spoke as he wrote, “I, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, on this the tenth day of October in the year of Our Lord 1542, have landed with my ships in a bay along the coast of California that lies at 35 1/3°. Here, we have met native people who have shown us welcome and friendship.

“If you are Spanish, or friendly to the Spanish realm, we are willing to assist you if such aid is within our power and the scope of our mission. Please send us word of your location and intentions.” Intentionally omitting specifics about their own mission and course in case the letter was delivered into enemy hands, Cabrillo closed and signed it.

Wocha had attentively observed the creation of the missive and now listened to its translation by the priest. He appeared to find nothing objectionable, so Cabrillo rolled his letter within a waterproof oilskin and tied the bundle securely closed. He then handed the dispatch to Wocha, who accepted it with a satisfied bob of his head. Calling a youth to his side, he ordered the runner to take one companion and carry the message with all haste to the Taquimine who had traveled north up the great river.

As Cabrillo watched the young man choose a friend and the two trot away, he fervently hoped the letter wouldn't fall into English or Portuguese hands. In the unlikely case that it did, he was determined that his ships and men would be ready. Wherever the letter might land, its result would lay far ahead of today.

To repay Wocha's kindness, Cabrillo presented him with two empty sheets of parchment, a quill, and a small, lidded bottle of his ink, all of which pleased the chief immensely. Responding to a small voice from behind, Wocha turned to briefly face the group of seven women, of varying ages but notable beauty, who had been watching the proceedings from a discreet distance. Cabrillo had not failed to notice that the youngest of these had seemed deeply interested in his writing, and she now approached and softly asked Wocha if she could hold the paper with the chief's name upon it, which he allowed her to do.

Facing Cabrillo again, Wocha said with understated pride, “These women are my wives, these and two others. Cabrillo, do your wives travel in your great canoe?”

Withholding any hint of amusement, Cabrillo said, “I have one wife, Wocha, and she is at our home far away.”

Visibly concerned by such news, after a moment's thought Wocha gave a quick order to one of his wives that Cabrillo and Father Lezcano did not catch, and the woman moved away to drift quietly among the listening crowd. While Wocha evidently awaited her return, Cabrillo offered him two matching goblets of etched brass. The chief was still expressing his satisfaction when his wife reappeared accompanied by four attractive women, all of them under what Cabrillo guessed to be the age of sixteen. The girls stood in their short skirts with their eyes cast downward and their thick hair draping their chests from shoulders to waists, their manner as demure as any virginal noblewoman of Spain.

As Wocha spoke magnanimously to Cabrillo, Father Lezcano hesitated a second or two in awkward discomfort before finally explaining, “Sir, he says that these women...agree to be your wives.” The priest fought to keep his features blank as shuffling and mumbling started circulating among the sailors.

Cabrillo had caught an inkling of Wocha's intentions without the need of his priest's assistance, and he stilled his men's muttering momentarily by saying, “Please thank him for me, father, and explain that it is not our custom to take more than one wife.”

But before the priest could comply, Wocha forestalled any declination of his gift with an assertion that Father Lezcano was compelled to convey, “A great man like Cabrillo, a man who comes from faraway lands in great ships and makes magic messages on dried skins, such a man must have many wives.”

The insistence in Wocha's voice gave Cabrillo a moment's pause, but in a respectful tone he tried again. “Father Lezcano, please tell Wocha that his women are beautiful and his gift generous, but that this is not our practice.”

Recognizing Cabrillo's hesitation, a realization seemed to suddenly cross Wocha's mind. Father Lezcano had barely finished translating before the chief nodded in acceptance and understanding, then he gazed over the crowd, spotted the one for whom he was searching, and beckoned that person forward. A moment later the most spectacular looking man Cabrillo had ever seen stood directly in front of him.

The muttered words, “Holy Mother save us,” escaped from Father Lezcano. Several of Cabrillo's men shifted uneasily. Manuel snapped his gaping mouth closed and kept still.

The slender young man's features were stunningly fine and his feet and hands were small to the point of daintiness. His effeminate appearance was greatly enhanced by the fact that he wore the clothing and adornments of their women. His hair feathers were even more flamboyant than those worn by Wocha, and his many strings of tiny shells hung almost to the ground. He was beautiful, and he stood just as the girls had, submissively awaiting the chief's command.

Father Lezcano whispered, “Captain-General, I believe the chief is offering—”

“I know what he is offering, Father,” Cabrillo said evenly. “Thank him kindly, but tell him our customs and our God strictly forbid a man from taking pleasure with another man.”

Forcing his expression and voice to a calmer state, Father Lezcano relayed this message.

The priest's words were first met with confused disbelief, and then Wocha's friendly manner grew guarded, even suspicious.

Making an attempt to keep things from growing threatening, Cabrillo said quickly, “Your offers are most kind, Wocha. But I must follow the wishes of my king and my God. I must lead my men by my own actions.”

Mollified only somewhat by this explanation, the chief let his gaze drift to Manuel, as it had several times during the meeting. He pointed to the black man and asked, “Is this man a leader among you?”

Cabrillo responded with, “He is not, but he is a strong and faithful friend.”

Wocha grunted once in acknowledgement and said, again causing Father Lezcano to translate with reluctance. “Since he is no leader, your other men need not follow him. It would please me if he stays in our village tonight. I will give him strong, healthy women. In the new year they will bear his children, and his blood will add life to our people. This will make our friendship strong.”

Momentarily amazed, Manuel managed to say a little too readily, “I am willing, sir. For the sake of the fleet.”

“The fleet indeed,” Cabrillo muttered with an eyebrow cocked. Seeing no other way to avoid offending Wocha and much to the disappointment of his other men for having been excluded from the offer, Cabrillo accepted on behalf of Manuel.

This seemed to satisfy Wocha greatly. He spoke to the girls still standing nearby in a manner that suggested he was bestowing a great privilege. All four of the young women came cautiously forward to sit near to Manuel, occasionally glancing at him as if he were a newly arrived god who had just chosen them as consorts.

Under his breath, Cabrillo said to Manuel, “Just one night. Tomorrow I expect you to be at the beach for the claiming ceremony. And if you value your hide, not a word of your exploits to the other men.”

Manuel hoped his tone held the contriteness of a smuggler standing before a hanging judge as he replied, “Of course, sir.”

Cabrillo noticed Father Lezcano suddenly stiffen as Wocha's speculative attention moved from Manuel and fell upon him. The priest sat very still and avoided meeting the chief's gaze. Much to Father Lezcano's relief, Cabrillo spoke up and agilely turned everyone's thoughts to the less sensitive practice of trading goods rather than sexual favors.

The next hour was spent exchanging as many ideas as goods, with Cabrillo having Father Lezcano record many of Wocha's words. In addition to a large quantity of fish, the Chumash had maize, furs, nets, thread, shells, fine twisted rope, and seal meat with which to barter. After much lively bargaining that had replenished food stores for his crews and horses, Cabrillo ordered his men to receive what newly acquired merchandise could be gathered quickly. Wocha would have the rest brought to the boats the following morning.