Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (28 page)

As the sailors neared the cave, their eyes were drawn upward some ninety feet to the pointed peak of the entrance. Ages of weathering had carved the rough face of the rock into a diverse collection of primordial shapes that included demonic beasts, gaping skulls, and ragged daggers. The haunting realism of these images caused one seaman to mutter, “Them rocky walls could rival the gates of hell itself.” Such a comment was enough to set the more superstitious among the men to shifting uneasily. As the cave's shadow began to engulf the boats the rowers peered over their shoulders with increasing frequency, and Cabrillo ordered, “Light the lamps.” Wicks were swiftly ignited and lamps held high.

Breaching the mouth of the cavern, a stench hit them with such force that several men coughed as their lungs fought for cleaner air while others cursed under their breaths. And as their noses were being assaulted, their ears picked up a low and indistinct sound, a grumbling that grew louder with each stroke of their oars. This and the intensity of the smell temporarily held the rowers in check, and the limited reach of their lamplight did little to dispel the unknown. Cabrillo ordered them slowly forward and around a pair of opposing curves. A bombardment of roaring and barking suddenly erupted, ricocheted off, and circled the cave walls with such concussiveness that at first it was difficult to determine whether they were surrounded. Ahead, at the point Cabrillo now guessed the roaring of the bull sea lions to be loudest, lay in complete blackness. When the men started voicing their disquiet Captain Correa shouted his sailors to silence with a string of profanity. Captain Ferrelo, true to his own nature, said in a voice just loud enough to be heard, “Steady, men.” The captain-general commanded, “Hold here and raise the lamps.”

Listening intently and staring into a bleakness little improved by the elevation of the lights, it was impossible for Cabrillo to measure a safe distance from the bulls. “Captains Ferrelo and Correa, two men in each boat are to take up spears, but they are to release them only in defense. Keep your boats in line behind mine.”

Oars gently maneuvered them forward, which immediately increased the challenging tone and volume of the sea lion barrage. Very gradually, shiny dull-brown coats could be perceived shifting back and forth along the ledge that fringed the cave. Some of the bulls tossed their heads and necks in ferocious defiance of this intrusion. Both walls and barking drew closer as the cavern narrowed in front of them, and Cabrillo sensed more than saw that forward progress would deliver the boats into the very heart of the sea lion stronghold, well within range of an attack. What lay beyond the beasts guarding the gap was completely concealed by a curtain of black.

He knew that a bull sea lion could weigh up to a ton and had the strength to overturn boats and injure men. Enraged, they could easily kill. There was no choice but to smother his desire to investigate the inner chambers of the cavern and to call over the din, “No farther, men. Ease back.”

Perfectly willing hands turned the boats back toward the entrance and pulled hard toward cleaner, quieter air. When they rounded the second curve of the cave its mouth reappeared, and Cabrillo was captivated by the scene before them. Framed by the rough triangular opening their three ships rested on a sea of gray glass beneath a profoundly blue sky, forming as tranquil, proud, and lovely a portrait as he had ever seen.
Ah
, he uttered in silence,
such a view is worth troubling to stop at a hundred caves
.

When they reached the entrance and passed through, each man took great gulps of the fresh sea air, and one or two of the younger hands allowed themselves a tremor of relief. Cabrillo, however, had enjoyed the darkness and the danger, and looked back with a sense of appreciation. That kind of thrill, he believed, never failed to make a man more intensely alive.

Once back aboard the
San Salvador
, he cast a last longing gaze at the cavern, decided they'd seen enough of the island, and ordered the ships to return to the mainland.

The sun had nearly set, with clouds at both horizons brightly afire, when they glided to a snug anchorage that lay about twenty miles up the coast from Pueblo de las Canoas. Seeing few natives, they slept quietly that night, and Cabrillo dreamed of endless caves.

In the morning they'd sailed only a couple of leagues up the coast before coming upon a valley of grand beauty, which the native people had wisely chosen for their settlement ages earlier. The village that spread before them was large and lively, and at the appearance of the ships it burst into a flurry of excitement. Before the fleet had come to rest, native canoes had already reached the vessels. Smiling, gesturing Indians held up fish of every variety to barter as they sought means of climbing onto the decks.

At the sight of the crowd, Master Uribe hurried to his captain-general and asked, “Sir, do we let them board?”

“Yes, Master Uribe. Make them welcome but keep them on the main deck.”

“Very good, sir.”

Turning to Father Lezcano, Cabrillo said, “They appear to be Chumash, and undoubtedly have heard from Wocha. Bless the man, we shall have no shortage of fresh fish.”

It wasn't long before Cabrillo came to question his order to welcome all comers. The new arrivals were so fascinated by every sheet, line, and block that the men had a devil of a time getting the anchors settled and the sails furled. Even after the ships had been secured the Indians kept coming. At last, Cabrillo decided his best alternative was to lead a party ashore in the hope of luring their guests back home. Fortunately this plan proved so successful that only a handful of Indians remained aboard when his boats pushed away from the fleet.

His meeting with the village leaders, though gratifyingly cordial, was kept brief by Cabrillo. With the fall season's advancement he was feeling a stronger sense of urgency to push on, and he told the disappointed chief that they must depart in the morning. Attempting to lessen the sadness that sprang from this announcement, he distributed many outright gifts and generously traded for the goods they desired.

Making true their captain-general's word, his men had sails up before the sun had dispersed the last of the coastal fog. It took little time for the wind to find them and blow the ships northward. As they paralleled a shore reaching sharply westward Cabrillo enjoyed a warm sense of satisfaction watching the Chumash canoes gliding along with them; their occupants waving and crying out now-familiar words in tones of universal salutation. When the first paddlers tired and faded away, others group replaced them, and then others. Sailing on, progressing up nearly twenty-five miles of coastline, their entourage of canoes continued to keep them company.

Often a canoe approached near enough for an Indian to request to board, and Cabrillo had his men lift a paddler or two to the main deck. Sometimes a small gift but more frequently nothing at all was needed to acquire the names of the towns that appeared, such as Casalic, Tucumu, Alloc, and Xocotoc. Their passengers provided descriptions of neighbors living farther inland as well as. When questioning one fellow, Cabrillo and Father Lezcano learned that two villages lay within a three-day journey where the inhabitants harvested great crops of maize and hunted huge animals they called “cae.”

Intrigued, Cabrillo said, “Ask him to describe the beasts, Father.”

In answer, the native stood tall on his tiptoes and spread his arms wide, then shaped the outline of a four-legged body with his hands. He then lowered his head, with his arms outstretched and arced in a manner suggesting curved horns, and pawed the deck with his feet. Amazed, Cabrillo muttered to Father Lezcano, “Surely he exaggerates the size. What kind of animal could stand so tall?”

When asked for clarification, the Indian precisely and insistently repeated the pantomime indicating the incredible dimensions of the animal.

“Ask if he has seen such a beast with his own eyes, Father.”

The inquiry was politely made, and the response delivered with resolve. “Many cae, many times.”

Cabrillo and Father Lezcano stared at one another, and then the captain-general concluded, “Perhaps they are some kind of monstrous cattle.”

“They may be, sir, and wild as wolves if they roam loose over these vast lands.”

As had occurred during so many earlier encounters, their native visitors eagerly shared the rumors of men who wore beards and clothing like Cabrillo and his crewmembers, and they solemnly explained how these travelers had menaced their people farther inland.

Although Cabrillo listened politely to this information, he was suddenly far more interested in learning about the large island that had just appeared some fifteen miles to the southwest. Shifting the topic with care, he was told of several Chumash villages located on the isle. Quickly evaluating the distance, current, and weather conditions, he pointed as he gave the order, “Draw us closer, Master Uribe, perhaps halfway. The hour is late and I have no intention of landing there, but we may still discover something of the lay of her shore and people before nightfall.” He shaded his eyes and scrutinized the sky as an artist might study the face of a restless model. “We must keep an eye on the heavens,” he added. “I sense a change in the weather, and not for the better.”

“Toward the island it is, sir,” said Uribe.

The flagship altered course, and her two companions followed with the proficiency gained during months of close proximity. The fleet drew to within several miles of the island but only near enough for Cabrillo, his captains, and pilots to make rough notes of the coastline and to estimate the island's length to be forty-five miles. Since the coast pointed away from them, these recordings were little more than guesses backed by long experience. Briefly holding their position before turning back to gain the protection of the mainland, Cabrillo thought he could detect pathways and dwellings. These he continued to try to bring into focus even as his men turned the ships away, complying with his command to head in for the night.

The sky was growing dim by the time the fleet came to rest at a small mainland harbor, and the heavens were bright with glittering stars when at last Cabrillo ordered the few Indians who had come to meet them back to shore. The final hour of his watch was nearly spent, and he began to look fondly forward to the comfort of his bunk when Father Lezcano approached him on the stern deck. They stood in companionable silence for a bit, content to let the water and shoreline hold their attention. Taking a deep, slow breath, and releasing it even more slowly, Father Lezcano said, “A quiet night, though perhaps our last for awhile? I have heard that you sense a change in the wind.”

Taking time to absorb the hush beneath the moon and stars, Cabrillo said, “I hope my eyes and nose are mistaken, and from the look of present conditions, they are. We have been very fortunate thus far, traveling so great a distance without major mishap, but we have learned nothing to dispel the possibility that we are still far from China. We must reach it and take what refuge that land offers before harshly cold weather finds us. Have you felt the bites of chill in the last few dawns?”

“A little perhaps, but I do not have your reputation for reading nature, sir.”

He smiled. “I would be much happier to have winter come very late than to see that part of my reputation enhanced. We are only moderately equipped to deal with the cold. I find myself sleeping more fitfully than usual, thinking of the men suffering in light clothes. Before I let that happen, I will have layer upon layer of clothing sewn from our trade goods.”

“Surely it will not come to that, sir. Those goods are the property of the governor.”

“And there would be hell to pay, I know. I pray it will not be necessary. The condition of our ships must also be considered. These brief landings do not allow for the thorough repairs they will need before long, and need badly.”

Father Lezcano said gently, “Forgive me, sir, but have you ever considered that you worry more than necessary?”

Cabrillo let out a short, quiet laugh, “I have been asked that too many times.”

“We are in God's hands, sir. We must trust in Him.”

Another silent pause held them before Father Lezcano again stirred the stillness. “It is strange, sir, after being at sea for so long now but I still find it hard to forego the celebration of Mass on Sunday.”

“I must confess that I had nearly forgotten that today is Sunday.”

“It has been a very full day, sir. A good day, despite missing Mass. Still, I must ask God once again to allow us a little extra share of forgiveness, given the ways of seamen.”

Cabrillo cast a glance at Father Lezcano and his twitching mouth. “We seamen can never have too many prayers offered on our behalf, Father. Still, have you given thought to the fact that sailors name so many places after Him and his saints? Do we not, in a small way, spread his word? Wicked as we are, perhaps we deserve a little additional forgiveness.”

“If so,” he said, letting his smile show, “today we have earned a small share of absolution, now that San Lucas has a fine island named in his honor.”

Chapter 15

M
ATIPUYAUT
'
S SHORE

“Captain-General, they've surrounded us!” cried Mateo, dancing from foot to foot and pointing from the railing. “Thousands and thousands of them!”

T
he sea itself had erupted with life. Everybody aboard the
San Salvador
stared, shouted, grinned, or hooted as the incredibly massive pod of skimming, leaping, racing forms wrapped the ship within its embrace and vibrantly animated acres of ocean around her. The boisterousness of the flagship's men quickly spread to the two ships trailing behind as they too were entwined within the jubilant upheaval. Glinting in the early sunlight, the glossy gray backs and black dorsal fins streaked across intersecting wakes in every direction, daring any pair of human eyes to keep up with their countless movements. The many acrobats of the throng leaped high enough to flash their white chests at the bedazzled onlookers.