Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (40 page)

The health of his crews had become a constant worry, but the next day another grave problem arose. The
San Miguel
had begun to leak profusely and the caulkers could do little but seal the ruptures for short periods. Their urgency to find a port was growing by the hour.

After valiantly managing to sail a little over forty miles, they at last beheld the welcome sight of smoke rising from manmade fires. Cabrillo drew the ships to a hasty anchorage and accompanied a landing party to the beach. With joy and gratitude he was able obtain some wood and water, and the natives were even willing to trade some of their own precious food supplies that included a little acorn meal and maize, but the manner of the Indians was noticeably guarded. The captain-general sensed that this limited willingness to interact was due to concern over their own limited winter stores. Troubled, he returned to his flagship.

That evening he met with his officers and, after much discussion, decided that the fleet's best choice for wintering now lay 130 miles southward on the island of Posesión, which had sheltered them once before.

When his companions had left, Cabrillo undressed wearily, crawled into his bunk, and pondered the choice that seemed to have been unanimously made by all gathered at his table. Now, however, he asked himself uneasily how much that decision might have been swayed by him, and by his memory of a dark-skinned woman with eyes as daring as any warrior's. He immediately chided himself for the thought, recalling the enthusiastic agreement of his officers, the protectiveness of the harbor, the cordiality of the chief, the adequacy of the water supply, and the abundance of sea life all around the island. It was the logical choice, the best choice. But later that night, while in sleep's deepest embrace, he awakened suddenly, muttering the name “Taya.”

Chapter 21

P
OSESIÓN REVISITED

U
nder long, gauzy clouds that were spreading a blush across the westward sky Cabrillo's ships entered the familiar harbor of Isla de Posesión only to face an unexpected and uneasy sight. Chumash warriors were drawn up on the beach as if they'd anticipated the fleet's arrival for days. The chief and his sons stood a little in front of the rest, their spears laid well within reach before them, their stillness revealing neither outright challenge nor welcome. As the ships maneuvered to a close-fitting anchorage, not one canoe came out to greet them.

“They look unwilling to accept us, sir,” said Pilot San Remón with a scowl.

“The
San Miguel
can sail no farther,” said Cabrillo. “We have little choice.” He continued to watch them, weighing the risks of landing. “They are a wary people, and with reason. I must try to reassure them.” He ordered the boatswain to ready his launch, sent word to the
San Miguel
and
La Victoria
for each to lower a boat, and signaled to the master gunner to prepare his weapons. “While I am ashore, pilot, keep to our plans.”

Cabrillo, Father Lezcano, Manuel, and their contingent took to the boat as the fleet's guns were being primed and aimed where they could provide the best defense. A moment after his launch left the
San Salvador
his other ships' boats pushed off to join him.

As they rowed nearer, Cabrillo observed the natives' recently donned fur capes with interest. Even here, though the chill was much less severe than where they'd come from, late November made its presence felt. He wondered if beneath those capes the warriors were clasping bows, but as their space of separation diminished no weapons were lifted. When he was a few yards from the sand he leapt from the boat, waded out of the foam, waited for the others to land, and walked toward Matipuyaut, but the chief and his sons did not come to meet him. Cabrillo's guards formed a protective box around him, and he could sense Vargas' gauging the prospect of danger with each step they advanced. The captain-general halted several paces in front of Matipuyaut, who did not speak.

By signs and words that Cabrillo had learned over the past weeks, and for which Father Lezcano's assistance was no longer necessary, he hailed the chief. “It brings me joy to see you again, Chief Matipuyaut.”

Now Matipuyaut spread his arms wide and said in a ringing voice. “I greet you, Cabrillo.” In his tone less ceremonial, he added, “My people ask why you have returned.”

From the corners of his eyes Cabrillo could see uneasiness, and in some cases resentment, on the faces of the Chumash men. “We did not look to return so soon. A storm at sea and the cold winds have forced us to return to your island. We wish to sail on to the distant shore as soon as the weather warms.”

Matipuyaut considered for a moment. “That is a long time, Cabrillo, a long time. We must speak together of many things. For our talk, you are welcome in my lodge.”

Acutely aware that leaving the beach meant relinquishing the security of the fleet's guns, Cabrillo nevertheless bowed in acceptance of the invitation. He gave no indication of disquiet as he and his small delegation followed the chief's group up the path toward the village.

Along the way he began to feel slightly reassured by the presence of more and more women and children, who paused in their work or play to stare at them as they passed. They showed less apprehension and mistrust than their men had, perhaps because they better recalled the peaceful nature of their prior visit. His covert glances repeatedly swept the gathering crowds but failed to locate the particular female face he sought.

When he reached Matipuyaut's lodge without having seen her, he told himself she would be inside. Upon entering, however, he found only the chief's wives, small children, and shaman. Kipomo, seated in front of the women, gave no greeting when Cabrillo entered, and he had barely had time to recognize this breach in manners when Taya appeared at the door of the house, stepped with a respectful nod in front of Father Lezcano, and approached Cabrillo. Ignoring the disapproving grumbles of the warriors as well as the stares of the soldiers, she came close, raised her face to him, and said, “I welcome you, my husband.”

He took her hand. “Your welcome brings me pleasure, Taya.”

A great harrumph from Matipuyaut recaptured Cabrillo's attention and sent Taya two steps backward. But rather than joining the other women at the edge of the round chamber, she seated herself not far behind Father Lezcano, who had settled down at Cabrillo's side. The scowl her father aimed at her caused no apparent discomfort and resulted in no alteration of her preferred perch.

Choosing to give her no more of his notice, Matipuyaut said, “You are thinner than when I saw you last, Cabrillo. Eat with us.” Matipuyaut motioned to his wives, and they quickly added water and acorn flour to a hot fish soup cooking in the massive stone bowl over the fire. Matipuyaut seemed disinclined to start the discussion before his visitors had been served, so they exercised their patience until bowls of the thick, hot chowder were placed in the hands of Matipuyaut, his sons, and his guests. His warriors, though the soup could not stretch far enough to serve them as well, sat silent and stoic. While the fortunate ones ate the tasty meal, meaningful communication was limited to body language, and Cabrillo forced his face and posture to convey a level of confidence in the present congregation that was considerably higher than reality. As the bowls emptied Matipuyaut laid his aside and opened their conversation by asking, “Did you find signs of the land you sought, Cabrillo?”

“Not yet, Matipuyaut. We sailed far to the north, a land white with much snow, but winter sent us back to you. We will try again.” He decided not to reveal the sad condition of the bergantine, at least not yet.

Matipuyaut nodded thoughtfully as his people exchanged speculative glances. Cabrillo continued, saying, “While we are here we will hunt in the seas for our food. We will trade for water and any other food you can spare. As before, we will help your people defend themselves against any attack from your enemies.”

Glancing at each of his sons, reading their expressions, Matipuyaut said, “We have had many rains. Water is plentiful. The sea around our island yields much food even though fishing and hunting are harder in the cold times. I have seen that your men are hard workers, so there should be enough water, fish, and meat. We have not stored enough acorn flour or dried berries for my people and your men to have plenty, and we do not visit the main land to buy more after the winter storms come, but we can trade for a little of what we have.”

“We will be happy with what you can spare.”

The chief fixed his glance on Cabrillo and asked him searchingly, “What else will you wish of us while you are here?”

Cabrillo told him. “We must repair our ships, Matipuyaut. One, the smallest, must be brought ashore, but we will keep our men near the beach. We seek rest and shelter until the weather turns.”

“And women?”

The abruptness of the question caught Cabrillo unprepared. He and his men had been offered women on the mainland, but he was still uncertain of acceptable customs. Judging from the unrest caused during their earlier stay, married women were forbidden from sharing favors other than those clearly granted by their husbands. Although it was true that Matipuyaut had given Taya to him, he was unsure of the permanence of even this arrangement. He feared that it would take little to raise trouble with these islanders, and he intended to avoid trouble like he would the plague. Cautiously, he answered, “Whatever pleases Matipuyaut and his people will please my men and me.”

At this response, the shrewd eyes of the chief revealed curiosity. “One of our women is already yours, Cabrillo. Do you want more?”

“No, chief, no more.”

Matipuyaut studied Cabrillo a moment longer and then turned his perusal to the soldiers. “A man is not happy for long without a woman to share his furs. If your ships stay until the warm days come, your men may grow uneasy.”

What could Cabrillo say to this? They were already starved for sexual comfort. Before he could think of some reassuring reply, the chief said decisively, “We will allow your men to visit some of our unmarried women, but only those we choose and only at a house we make ready for them near the beach.” He held up both hands and extended all of his fingers. “This many women will stay at the house, and this many of your men may come to the women each day, but they can not stay there. They must be back on the ships before the sun sleeps. Only you, your black friend, and your two holy men may remain among us when darkness comes.”

Sensing the tightness that had seized Father Lezcano's body, for a split second he considered what refusing might trigger, and then he nodded appreciatively, but he was already feeling the weight of how such an arrangement could best be governed. “This is a fine gift, Matipuyaut. Your heart is big to share your people with mine. Now, tell me what you wish from us while we are here?”

“Keep all enemies from approaching our village, do not take food from our stores, and trade fairly with your goods.”

The captain-general bowed over his crossed legs. Using words similar to those spoken earlier by Matipuyaut, he asked, “What else do you wish?”

“Cabrillo, I would also greet and sit upon your horse. And my sons and I wish to stay one day and one night aboard your great canoe.”

At this, at last, Cabrillo allowed himself a smile. “You are most welcome, Matipuyaut. Is there anything more?”

The chief hesitated before making his final request. “I have seen your...” it took him an instant before he remembered the word he sought, “guns, and I have heard that you can make them roar like a whale and shoot fire like lightning. Will you show me this magic?”

“Yes, chief, I will show you how to make the guns roar. You will do this with your own hand, if you wish.”

Surprised, a sudden anxiety mixing with his pleasure, the chief quickly recovered and bobbed his head once in confirmation.

Now that the initial terms of their stay had been agreed upon, Cabrillo, greatly relieved, steered the conversation toward lesser yet still practical matters such as how he and his men might interfere least with the daily practices of the islanders. He hoped that learning more about their ways would increase the chances for peace between their cultures, so he paid acute attention to all that was explained. Their talk lasted until the sunlight had faded and more wood was tossed onto the fire.

When Cabrillo finally left the chief in front of his house, he and his men made their way carefully along the dimly lit path and Taya fell into step beside him. These two walked slowly and spoke softly of small things, allowing the others to pass by. At last only Vargas, Father Lezcano, and Manuel lingered at the tail of the group, awaiting their commander.

Taya stopped and faced the man she claimed as her husband. “My house is very near. Will you stay with me tonight?”

Cabrillo glanced at his expectant men. “No, Taya, tonight I must go to my ships. I will try to come ashore again tomorrow.”

She didn't try to hide her regret. “I am your woman, Cabrillo. I wish to please you.” Taking a step nearer, so close that her breasts brushed against his chest, she asked, “Can you not find pleasure in a woman of my kind?”

With her body this temptingly and generously offered, it took a significant effort for Cabrillo to keep from responding with his own. Summoning a briskness he hoped would hide this inner struggle, he said, “I could find much pleasure, Taya, but I must leave you now.” He sidestepped around her and led his men down the path at a pace not much slower than a trot.

In the later hours of evening the captains, pilots, and shipmasters gathered inside Cabrillo's cabin and conversed about Matipuyaut's offer of women until long after all trace of blue had leached from the sky. The fleet's two priests had not been invited to the assembly and their absence, conspicuous as it was, made the matter easier to discuss frankly. Even so, the logistics of safeguarding such a potentially explosive gift created a delicate challenge for the officers. Difficult questions sprouted like weeds, and one by one these were vigorously attacked. Should the women be available only to the officers? Should they be offered to some of the men as rewards for good behavior or performance? Should certain women be allotted for specific periods in a given day? How long an interlude should each man be allowed during a single shore leave? As these issues and others were posed and dissected the conversation rose and fell with extraordinary energy. At one point Captain Correa suggested that each captain should be allotted two women, the pilots each one, and the shipmasters could share a single female, leaving only one for all of the soldiers and low ranking sailors. This was met by a stone-cold silence from Cabrillo as well as the shipmasters, and it gave birth to a whole new round of conjecture.