Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (30 page)

Cabrillo could spot no weapon of any kind, yet the manner of the islanders was far from welcoming, and bows and arrows could easily be hidden in the sand or canoes. The situation brought to mind the favorite saying of a tutor who'd instructed him as a restless youth, and he muttered aloud, “Precautions are wise companions.” Without giving any sign of hurry or concern, he called out to Vargas, “Sergeant-major.”

“Yes, Captain-General.” Vargas said, his voice as calm as Cabrillo's.

“Discreetly distribute arms to ten of your men but have them held out of view.”

“Yes, sir. Should Cardenas bring up the war dogs?”

“Definitely not.” Turning slightly toward the next man he sought, he said, “Master Gunner, quietly ready the swivel guns.”

Pilot San Remón, Master Uribe, Father Lezcano, Manuel, and Mateo had joined Cabrillo one by one and had added their eyes to the staring match between the Indians and the men of the fleet. The captain-general surrendered his scrutiny long enough to glance toward his sister ships and happened to catch Captain Ferrelo's eye. His captain's expression showed the same evaluating supposition that tugged at Cabrillo. Then, Ferrelo moved his shoulders in a subtle shrug, and again their attention turned to the island.

Cabrillo began evaluating the turn of the tide, the break of the waves upon the beach, the location of potentially dangerous rocks, and many other variables that might affect landing. The ruggedly descending slopes came nearly to the water's edge, leaving only a short southerly beach that was flanked on its left side by a long sand dune about two fathoms high and on the right by a tightly wedged collection of large boulders. Visually following the curve of the bay around to the right and gazing beyond his prow, Cabrillo beheld the first sentinels of a sizeable sea lion herd that was noisily voicing its displeasure at the intrusion of the fleet. Again he reverted his consideration to the natives, who continued to reveal neither arms nor ill intentions.

“Well,” he said, “someone must be the first to offer an outstretched hand. Pilot, the watch is yours.”

Vargas, Father Lezcano, and his rowers accompanied Cabrillo as they headed to a fully armed launch. While Manuel handed their commander his helmet and boarded with the others, Vargas said quietly aside to the captain-general, “You have undoubtedly considered this, sir, but that sand dune could hide many warriors. Their arrows could easily reach us on the beach.”

“Yes, a perfect opportunity for an ambush.”

“The rest of your armor, sir...”

“Judging from the way the surf is breaking, we may have to swim a few strokes to reach the beach. As I have already told Manuel, today we will count on caution rather than armor.”

Theirs and two boats from the other ships pushed away together but Cabrillo's launch held the lead position. As was his practice, he had the two captains send chosen officers ashore rather than allowing all of the fleet's commanders exposed to harm at once.

“Watch closely, men,” Cabrillo ordered the rowers stroking with their backs to the island, “and pull for the ship if I give any sign.”

As the boats neared the beach an apparent leader of the group stepped forward and lifted his arm to slice the air in a cautioning rather than welcoming gesture. Several of his people repeated the signal. Cabrillo read no indication of direct challenge, merely a bold defensive warning, as if to say, “Beware! We can return whatever harm you might inflict.”

The captain-general stood slowly in the boat and offered the gesture he had learned for “friend.” The islanders lowered their arms but did not reciprocate the sign of goodwill.

Vargas, fearless during the deadliest of times, let his tone convey his mistrust of their circumstances as he muttered, “Captain-General.”

“Yes, sergeant-major, just a little closer. Slowly on, men.”

Vargas kept his hand on his musket as the boat nudged toward the beach.

Even as the sailors neared, the faces of the Indians revealed none of their intentions and very little of their concerns. But the islanders had held themselves back from the water line, and Cabrillo took this as a positive restraint. He now made his decision and, after ordering the other boats to hold their positions, said to his rowers, “Take me in, men.” From the corner of his eye he saw Vargas about to voice an objection, but a subtle gaze stilled it. His boat pulled forward.

Only a few hard strokes were needed to drive his boat within three yards of the sand. Still the Indians did not move. He ordered the men to steady the boat. Leaving his crossbow behind, armed only with the sword at his belt, and protected by no more than his metal helmet and leather breastplate, Cabrillo swung his legs over the side of the launch and fought the chest-high waves to shore. Immediately behind him, Manuel, Vargas, and six soldiers carefully held their firearms above the water as they and Father Lezcano leaped from the boat. The remaining rowers quickly pulled the lightened boat ashore and stood at its side, within an arm's reach of their crossbows.

Cabrillo now could see that light bows and quivers did indeed lie in the sand beside most of the native men. At his approach only two Indians picked up their weapons, but these men set no arrows to their strings. Locking his gaze on the Indian chief while maintaining an awareness of the others, Cabrillo, with Father Lezcano and Manuel a step behind him, walked forward until the space separating him and the natives diminished to fifteen feet.

The chief, flanked by two younger men who were likely his sons, studied Cabrillo keenly. This island leader gave no indication of his emotions, whether amazement, fear, or curiosity, but his natural shrewdness could not be hidden. As were most aboriginal chiefs that Cabrillo had met, this one was past middle age, yet he looked to be far from frail as he stood eye to eye with the captain-general. He wore his gray streaked hair tied up at the back of his head, giving his strong-boned face a roughhewn impression. His long loincloth and fur-skin cape had been decorated with the exquisite care generally shown only to those who are both loved and respected. The elaborate shell and stone beading that fanned his chest was the most beautiful Cabrillo had seen on his entire voyage.

There was palpable tension in the faces and bodies around them, a sharp narrowing of the eyes that gave Cabrillo pause, but he worked to hide his own disquiet. With great respect, and with Father Lezcano's assistance, Cabrillo addressed their ruler. “We greet you and your people, chief. I am Cabrillo, chief of these ships, and I have come in the name of our most honored leader, King Charles of Spain.”

After a curt nod of acknowledgment the chieftain said, using widely recognized Indian signs but another dialect unfamiliar to the seamen, “We have heard of you, Chief of the Great Canoes.” A few of his warriors shifted uneasily but the chief continued, his face communicating as expressively as his hands and arms. “It is said that you are a friend of the Chumash, but what is said is not always true.” There was a marked defensiveness in his voice, the tone of a man determined to protect his people. It suggested the possibility of recent attacks made against them, or of other hardships inflicted by outsiders.

Before Cabrillo could form a response, the young man on the chief's left slowly crouched down and withdrew a spear from the sand at his feet.

Sensing responding movements in his own men, Cabrillo halted any activity behind him by commanding distinctly, “Do not move.”

The chief stilled his son with a slight jerk of his hand, and the young man warily returned the wooden spear to the ground.

For several breaths the tension stretched tight as a straining muscle. Then the island leader took a single step forward and signed, “Have you joined with our enemies to war against us?”

“No.” Cabrillo signed for himself, his gesture conveying vehement denial.

“Why have you come here?”

“My ships must wait in the harbor until the wind lessens.”

The chief considered this and then asked, “What do you want of us while you are here?”

Cabrillo released a breath he hadn't meant to hold. “We will trade for food and water.”

After pausing again, the chief asked, “How long will you stay?”

“A few days, only until the wind changes. We bring many gifts and goods to trade.” Acting on instinct, Cabrillo added, “While we are here we will help protect you from your enemies.”

“Your men will help protect us?”

“Yes, if you will share this harbor.”

Perhaps because they perceived a reduction in the misgivings of their leader, discontented mutterings began to rise from his warriors. He silenced them by raising his hand and sweeping it in a wide arc above their heads. When the only thing still rumbling was the wind, the chief announced gravely, “I am called Matipuyaut.”

Cabrillo bowed, repeated the name, and said, “I am called Cabrillo.”

“Your name is known to me.” The Indian leader eyed him as he reached his decision. “If you do not bring war to our island, Cabrillo, you may take shelter here.”

Again Cabrillo bowed, this time with gratitude.

Many of Matipuyaut's men glowered with displeasure but he ignored them and let his glance wander to Manuel. With a note of admiration, he said, “We have also heard of your black man who possesses great...” Here, Father Lezcano faltered as he attempted to translate as precisely as he dared, “...potency. Now that my eyes have seen him, it is easier to believe what the storytellers said of his abilities.” The speculating gazes of the warriors rested a little too heavily on Manuel for his comfort.

In a voice that warned even as it sought understanding, Matipuyaut said, “So that my people do not fear your coming, your men should stay on the water tonight. At sunrise I will come to talk with you again.”

“My men will sleep on the ships, Matipuyaut,” Cabrillo promised. Before turning away, he unfastened a silver clasp in the shape of an encircled cross from the neck of his cape. He strode smoothly forward until he had closed half the space to Matipuyaut and held out a hand bearing his brooch.

The chief's pensive expression told Cabrillo he understood that by accepting the gift he would be taking his first step into a new trade relationship. He would also be answering something akin to a diplomatic dare. The slightest flicker of what might have been amusement illuminated the chief's face.

Signaling for his men to remain where they were, Matipuyaut walked up to the bearded man from the sea and solemnly received his offering. The clasp transferred from one strong hand to the other, and as their eyes met again Cabrillo sensed that he and the chief had gained a slight but valuable understanding of the other's tenuous position as the leader of his people.

Gently, Cabrillo and his men withdrew. They returned to his ship bone-tired and grateful for having been granted even a short reprieve from their long day's labors against the elements. Later that evening as the captain-general wandered the stern deck he noticed how unrelentingly Vargas stared at the beach. His sergeant major didn't give up his surveillance until the last of the Indians had climbed the hill that led to their village and disappeared from his sight.

Chapter 16

T
AYA

T
hroughout the night the wind showed no willingness to relent, and with the breaking of day the seamen renewed their gratitude for the harbor that kept them shielded from its probing reach. As light spread, Cabrillo stood upon his habitual plank at the railing, the detachment of men chosen and the launch standing by. He waited only for the island chief's entourage just now emerging from the protection of the dune and walking to the open beach. Wasting no more time, he took to his boat, now carrying no fewer armaments but many more trade goods. The two captains again remained aboard their respective ships, with their guns made ready for action.

Even before setting foot ashore Cabrillo sensed a lightening of tensions among the islanders, and it continued to ease reassuringly as the two leaders came together for their first attempts at communication and trade. Within minutes most of the natives were kneeling or sitting in the sand near Cabrillo and Father Lezcano, watching with fascination as goods were brought from the chest and bargaining advanced in rounds. Though both men did a fairly admirable job of concealing it, Cabrillo soon realized that he was enjoying the bartering session as much as Matipuyaut. As promises of fresh water, seal meat, and fish, and immediately delivered furs, stone bowls, and tools piled up for the captain-general, the contents of his large chest steadily dwindled away.

Glancing from the empty chest at last, he saw a fleeting look of desire cross Matipuyaut's face. He looked again at the wooden box, momentarily confused, and then smiled for the first time since their dealings started. He signed to the chief, “The chest is for you,” and handed it to him.

At this boon, the chief broke out a smile of his own.

Perhaps the most powerful breakthrough came an hour or so after the official trading had ended. They had spoken of other tribes, friendly and otherwise, and Matipuyaut had asked many questions about Cabrillo's people, his voyage, and his home far away. The subject had turned to weaponry when Cabrillo was suddenly inspired to present Matipuyaut with an unplanned but well-chosen gift. From his own belt, the captain-general withdrew an eight-inch knife along with its own small leather scabbard. When he passed it to Matipuyaut with a gesture asking him to accept it, the chief let out an, “Auhh,” and raised appreciative eyes. But almost immediately his lips pursed thoughtfully, and Cabrillo guessed that he was puzzling over how best to repay such a gift. After a moment or two his features cleared and he said, “Chief Cabrillo, come to my village, to my house. You may bring,” he scanned the gathered sailors and raised six fingers, “six men.”

Cabrillo stared lingeringly at the thirty or so braves near Matipuyaut and then said, “Ten men.”