Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (39 page)

The desperate hope that the ship within their sight was indeed
La Victoria
now tangled with the dread that it was an enemy vessel that could pose the worst kind of threat. With pumps and caulkers still working diligently to keep the
San Salvador
and
San Miguel
seaworthy, they could neither maneuver nor fight at their best. There might also be more ships in the vicinity beyond their view. A battle could swing against them. Still, he ordered no sails shortened. He must discover who she was as quickly yet as carefully as possible.

While his men watched him, most of them confused by his withheld joy, they began to understand his concern. Their boisterous mutterings died away, their apprehension building. The reason for their commander's disquiet was confirmed when he gave the order, “Prepare to engage, Master Uribe, and pass the word to the
San Miguel
.” Men dispersed to their stations as officers barked to hurry and adjust them, guns and ammunition moved into position, and smaller weapons appeared on deck. Manuel brought Cabrillo's armor and strapped on the breastplate.

When all was ready the ship they pursued still lay too far ahead to recognize, yet a few of the fleet's men leaned out over the railing as if those few extra inches would help them confirm their hopes sooner. Every face was aimed at the waters ahead, searching the shape and movement of the masts, hull, and stern that slowly grew larger.

Cabrillo stared until his eyes burned, and it seemed to him that the ship, already running under full sails, was taking precautionary measures by keeping her distance, yet they were closing the gap with her. She was slower than they, which gave encouragement to the likelihood that she was his lost ship. If not, she might be less of a threat than he had feared. He knew every line and board of
La Victoria
and as moment after moment passed he began to allow himself to believe it was his beloved ship. When only two miles separated them, he did not need the lookout's shout to confirm his conclusion. “
La Victoria! La Victoria!
It's truly her, sir!”

Dozens of voices strengthened the cry, and Cabrillo took in her intact hull, unsplintered masts, and filled sails like a starving man gulps down his first bites of food. Although a joyful bedlam reigned over his men, at first Cabrillo whispered only, “Praise God, they are alive. And we need not fight today.” His eyes continued to confirm beyond any doubt what he was beholding, and when the shouts from
La Victoria's
madly elated crew reached across the water to him, he let out an answering cry of his own. Exhibiting a profound lack of discipline, Father Lezcano clasped the approaching Pilot San Remón by the upper arms and danced him around in a circle before the flustered officer could disengage himself. Cabrillo grabbed Mateo, lifted him to his chest, and nearly squeezed the life out of the happy boy. When he set him down, Mateo finally managed to declare, “I found her for you, sir.”

“Indeed you did, nephew.”

Cabrillo's brimming eyes met those of his priest. “After we clear these decks, a prayer of thanks would certainly be in order, eh, Father?”

The commands were given and weapons disappeared in record time. Sails were shortened for their approach to
La Victoria
, whose sails had already been struck, but well before the ships came together the captain-general and his men lowered themselves to their knees and bowed their heads. Father Lezcano's prayer was brief but abundantly heartfelt, and his words compelled tears to fall unashamedly from the eyes of a number of the men. Mateo knelt at Cabrillo's side, and as he prayed the captain-general's large, protective arm wrapped around the boy's shoulders.

The quiet offering of gratitude had just concluded when the attention of all was abruptly captured by a double roar from
La Victoria's
two swivel guns, causing the
San Salvador's
men to rush to the railing and renew their riotous salutations, waving, leaping, and pounding together hands and any other objects that made noise. Watching it all, Cabrillo shook his head and smiled from cheek to cheek.

Following form rather than necessity, he gave the order that adjusted their course to meet
La Victoria
. They would be side by side before the arrival of a quickly falling dusk.

Mateo beamed up at him. “Now, sir? Now will you come and eat the soup that Paulo has saved for you?”

Cabrillo actually laughed, provoking smiles from all who heard him. “I suddenly find myself famished.” He glanced again at
La Victoria
, estimating that he had at least ten minutes to spare. “Pilot, will you take the watch?”

“With pleasure, sir. With immense pleasure. Uh, perhaps, sir, you would like the ship's priest to accompany you? A mere monk, one who never eats very much, might easily feel overcome by recent events. His remaining on my, I mean, our quarterdeck might be ill-advised.”

Feigning offense at this jesting by flashing a great scowl at the pilot, Father Lezcano nevertheless then turned a hopeful glance toward Cabrillo.

Again their commander laughed and gestured for the priest to follow him as he left for his cabin. Eat, they did, and they reveled in those quiet moments, but nothing could keep Cabrillo in the cabin for long.

As they sailed closer, he could see the pump handle being worked without stopping and other evidence of the battering the storm had inflicted. Unweathered sections of wood and unstained patches of sails revealed that Captain Ferrelo had already taken care of some of
La Victoria's
most desperate needs. And there was the good captain now, standing high on his stern deck, waving at Cabrillo and grinning as largely as any of his men. The captain-general returned his salute and a joyous clamor rose from the fleet yet again.

Even the sky seemed to rejoice at the reunion of the ships, dispatching its clouds to places far to the southwest and clearing the way for a brilliant sunset. When they had drawn as near as safety allowed, Cabrillo cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted across the gold-tinged water, “God bless the men of
La Victoria
!”

Echoes and answers burst out loud and strong and took awhile to settle down again. At last Cabrillo was able to ask, “How do you fare, Captain Ferrelo?”

“Not a man lost, sir! And we rejoice to see you all safe!”

At this distance Cabrillo could read the fatigue in the bodies of their men, but they were alive and whole. “And the ship?”

“Well enough, sir, though the storm took the cargo we had on deck, and the pump has never seen so much action. We will need to heal her soon.”

This then clenched his resolve to continue southward. There was no wisdom in changing his earlier decision. His expression sobered slightly as he announced, “We will continue south day and night while weather permits, Captain. At the nearest bay possible we will make repairs and seek a warmer shelter for the winter.”

While this news didn't appear to surprise Captain Ferrelo, his face showed resolve rather than relief, and his men accepted it almost as stoically as their leader. “We will follow you with as much speed as we can, captain-general. May God keep us together in the days to come!”

“Do you need a few more hands or any supplies?”

Ferrelo swung a questioning glance over his crew, who straightened and wiped the fatigue from their faces. Ferrelo answered with unveiled pride, “Not today, sir, but I thank you.”

“Do not hesitate to signal us if assistance is needed, Captain.”

“Very well, sir.”

With her sails lifting, the
San Salvador
eased away and
La Victoria
turned to fall into position behind her. As the old formation became reestablished Cabrillo sensed that more than his fleet was again intact. His spirit, too, had been made whole once more.

For the first time since the storm had struck, the raw beauty of the coast could attract his attention, and it did so with insistence. Deep snow cloaked the peaks of the paralleling mountain range, sharpening the vividness of both sky above and slopes below. The land near shore was lavishly forested, though not a single inhabitant or puff of smoke appeared from amid the trees.

When the early stars began to emerge that evening, sails were shortened so that Captain Ferrelo and several of his men could take to their boat and be warmly welcomed aboard the
San Salvador
. In return, Cabrillo sent several of his stoutest men to
La Victoria
to help patch her seams and man her pump, providing a slight reprieve for the spent but stolid sailors. Though fresh provisions were awfully sparse and their future hopes and prospects were undeniably delayed and uncertain, the meal in Cabrillo's cabin was as festive as he could make it. This particular dinner was livened by the freedom with which the wine was encouraged to flow.

They sailed southeastward throughout the night, and daybreak delivered an expansive bay so tempting that despite the weakened condition of the ships Cabrillo ordered them in for a closer look. The rest of that day and part of the next were spent searching for a river and an anchorage that would allow a convenient access to shore, but not only did they fail to discover a means of filling their water barrels, they were also prevented from landing by the violence of the surf crashing against coast. Holding a steady position while performing the noontime calculation of the sun's elevation, Cabrillo and his pilot soon agreed with their finding and the captain-general scratched 39º into his record book. They both gazed at the number, thinking that they still had many leagues to sail before attaining the warm latitude they required.

Darkness threatened at an ever-earlier hour these days, and when it did so tonight they lowered their anchors in unusually deep water. From a safe distance offshore Cabrillo claimed this huge bay in the name of God and king, again recognizing the abundance of trees by calling it Baia de los Pinos.

Once more deprived by the waves and cliffs of the possibility of gathering on shore, the higher officers were called to meet aboard the flagship in order to discuss their needs and accept the prioritization of the commander. Though the relief and joy roused by the reunion with
La Victoria
had been intensely felt by all, the realities of relinquishing any hope of reaching Asia this year had become increasingly burdensome. Glumness was as visible on their faces as the redness branded by the sun and wind. After their meal had been consumed and conditions of the ships and men had been shared, Cabrillo could do little to lift the mood before dismissing them.

Dawn found him again evaluating the challenges of their surroundings only to affirm that no parties could be dispatched in search of wood, food, or fresh water. These could wait for yet a little while, but the most needed repairs to
La Victoria
could no longer be delayed. Many hands were set to work, and the temporary overhauling was completed efficiently enough to allow each man a few hours of precious rest. As their crews relaxed, chatting in small groups or napping, Cabrillo and Ferrelo were at liberty to enjoy an uncommon hour of relative solitude in the captain-general's cabin, where they exchanged greater details about their experiences during the storm and made plans for the days ahead. After spending some time bent over Cabrillo's charts, discussing the currents and winds, speculating about the predictability of these forces and how they might be harnessed during their return voyage in the spring, Cabrillo veered the discussion by asking, “How are your men today, Bartolomé?”

Ferrelo set down his wine glass and stared into it. “Two more are showing the early symptoms, sir; loose teeth, dark gums, purple spots below the waist. The storm alone would have weakened them, but without fresh food and water to help restore them, things are progressing quickly. And your crew? How many are suffering?”

“None severely, not yet, but perhaps five are losing strength.”

Ferrelo lifted his glass and took another long sip before saying, “Things are a little worse aboard the
San Miguel
.”

Cabrillo nodded.

“I heard, sir, that you lost a tooth today, a molar, I believe.”

They exchanged a studied gaze into each other's lean faces, but neither man spoke another word about how exhaustion, dried food, and stale water were also taking their toll on the captains of their ships. Instead, Cabrillo said, “Let us discuss more fully which ports might offer the best refuge during an extended stay.”

Captain Ferrelo refilled his glass and obliged.

At the sun's rising the growing need for fresh supplies induced the men of the fleet to fight through the mighty swells that met them near the southern rim of Baia de los Piños and helped them to seize the forceful breeze for their own purposes. As they rounded the tall rocky sentinel guarding the westernmost point of the bay, Cabrillo shivered against the chill as he took in the panorama of snow-dusted hills and chose to name this stretch of land Cabo de Nieve.

The dampness in the icy air made it painfully effective in gnawing through multiple layers of clothing and reaching deep into bones, and every man suffered. Glances inland seemed to heighten the chill as eyes fell upon white-clad mountains towering high enough to disappear into snow-heavy clouds. The peaks jogged along with them down the coast, acting as a constant reminder of how far winter's outstretched fingers had already reached, and how little time they had to outrun their continuing extension. At times massive waves broke against the bases of the frosty mountains with such roaring brutality that men crouched and threw their arm over their heads, reflexively protecting themselves in case the cliffs came crashing down. Even as Cabrillo pushed his men to sail beyond the potential danger represented by these mountains, he could not help marveling at their majesty, and he named them simply the Sierra Nevadas.

By the end of Cabrillo's night watch the fleet sailed well over sixty miles, yet in all that distance they'd seen no sign of humanity ashore. They found a little bay to shelter them through the hours of deepest darkness, naming it Cabo de San Martin, and by the North Star they gauged their recent progress by calculating the latitude to be 37½º, but they dared not linger here. That day Cabrillo had watched with helpless dread as scurvy continued to spread its malice among his men. Another handful of his crewmembers now fought the telltale pain that was triggered at the slightest touch. One man's teeth were so loose that he could no longer eat anything that had not been ground to pulp or liquefied. The captain-general had seen this disease torture other men to death and he was grimly determined not to lose one of his.