Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (42 page)

A few hours later, the fleet's guests sat down to dine with Cabrillo and their conversation turned to the near future dealings between the two cultures. Matipuyaut not only approved of Cabrillo's plan for the sailors' interactions with the ten native women, he informed him that the house was already available, complete with partitions, furnishings, and supplies. Ten women would be living there by this evening. Taya was not mentioned, and Cabrillo understood the omission to imply that his visits with her were expected to take place at her home.

The evening was still relatively young when Matipuyaut rose from his bench and announced, “It is time for rest.” With pleased anticipation, he proclaimed to his sons, “Tonight we sleep in the great canoe.”

Cabrillo stood and bowed, “You are welcome to my cabin. Paulo will soon make it ready for the three of you.”

At this, Matipuyaut looked deeply troubled. “Cabrillo must keep his own bed. We will sleep in a place that will not disturb you.”

It did no good whatsoever to assure him that Cabrillo didn't mind sleeping elsewhere, and it was finally settled that the natives would spend the night in the officers' cabin, tightly snug though they would be. Giving his pilot and shipmaster a moment to gather their few things, Cabrillo led the way. Matipuyaut entered these less lavish quarters, which he'd already seen during his tours of the ship, and smiled with satisfaction. He cast his clothing aside, lay down on a sleeping pad, and drew the cover over him.

Standing at their cabin door, Cabrillo took in the look of profound repose that spread over Matipuyaut's face as he reclined on the thin mattress, relaxing fully under the influence of the gently rocking ship. The chief closed his eyes for a moment, sighed deeply as if about to fall asleep, and then abruptly propped himself up on his elbows, saying, “It feels as I hoped it would, Cabrillo. While I sleep upon the water tonight, perhaps I will have a rare dream.”

Though their understanding of one another was still far from perfect, and the meanings of many words were yet assumed rather than known, at that moment Cabrillo felt an unexplainable kinship with the old chief, something that embodied the promise of real friendship. He stood aside to allow Matipuyaut's sons to enter and settle in around him.

“Sleep well,” he said in the Chumash tongue, and left them so he could attend to the remainder of his night watch.

At the railing, listening to the barking and growling of the sea lions and the occasional whickering of his horses while he watched the sky for comets, he wondered what Matipuyaut was dreaming. Father Lezcano soon came to join him.

“You look especially thoughtful tonight, sir.”

“Oh, I was just speculating that Matipuyaut might be dreaming about horses. It would be a fine dream, with him riding wild over his beloved island. Some day, there may be many horses on this mainland, but they would be difficult to raise here. We must be careful of our horses' feed even during this short stay.”

Their talk moved to other things, both practical and philosophical, but they delicately avoided the subject of women. For this, Cabrillo was thankful. The female visitation agreement carried the potential for more mischief than either man's comfort allowed. He didn't want it adding the burden of hard feelings between the two of them.

Chapter 22

T
HE WARMTH OF
T
AYA
'
S
L
ODGE

A
t the turning of the sandglass just after sunrise and shortly following the departure for shore by Matipuyaut's party, the
San Salvador's
boatswain lifted his voice in an official tone that halted the actions of every seaman and soldier. “Turn your attention here, men! Attention! Heed the words of our captain-general!”

Cabrillo stood on the quarterdeck with his back as lineal as the mast behind him, his chin high, and his countenance staid. “As each of your shipmasters has already informed you,” he said, knowing full well the men had initially heard the news from each other, “Chief Matipuyaut has provided a house and a selected number of women for our benefit.” Threatening glares from the shipmasters and boatswains kept the cheers clipped and muffled so Cabrillo could go on. “You have also been told that any man who has
unapproved
contact with a native woman will be dealt with harshly. The customs of these people will not allow unwanted advances to be made to their women, and
I
will not allow it. The penalty I would impose on any guilty man would be distinctly unforgettable.” As Cabrillo's grave eyes swept the decks, the grinning faces before him sobered significantly. In the Spanish realm the sentence for the rape of a white woman varied little. Death. Lately, however, murmurings had circulated that some Spanish captains and magistrates had adopted the Moorish custom of castrating rapists. Though such defilement of the body was greatly frowned upon by the Church, something in Cabrillo's tone and gaze brought these rumors to the forefront of his crewmembers' supposition, and most understood the inference that this kind of sentence might be carried out in a tryst with an island woman.

Seeing that the men had grasped his meaning, Cabrillo continued. “We are here seeking shelter and replenishment. We must repay the granting of these by respectfully honoring their traditions and mandates, by trading fairly, and, if necessary, by defending their safety. Mark these words, men. I do not deliver them lightly.”

Nods and muttered acquiescence climbed up to him.

“Work hard and step carefully, and our stay here may be both peaceful and agreeable. That is all, men. You may resume your duties.”

Fully comprehending how his own manner and behavior set the expectations of the men, Cabrillo didn't go ashore until after his morning watch had been fulfilled. Efforts on the ships were progressing well: water barrels were full again and newly caught fish were being salted and stowed. Already, their sick men were responding to the food provided by the island or brought here through trade with the mainland Chumash.

When Cabrillo's launch slid onto the sandy beach, Viento lifted his muzzle and neighed in salutation. Approaching his horses with Vargas beside him, Cabrillo saw that Matipuyaut's second son was brushing his mare's coat with obvious gratification as Manuel stood attentively nearby. Although other Chumash warriors watched the advancement of Cabrillo and his Sergeant Major they showed no sign of aggression. The captain-general greeted the natives in their own language and went over to Mateo, who had taken up residence in the horse shelter along with Manuel. His nephew said, “Oh, sir, the horses are quite well. They love the island.”

After enjoying several minutes among his equine soul mates, Cabrillo was interrupted when Matipuyaut's eldest son appeared with an invitation to come to the village, and they set off at once. Along the way they paused long enough to allow Cabrillo to inspect the house that had so recently been set up for the physical needs of his men. When he entered, six young women lowered their eyes respectfully. As he took in the well-ordered chamber, his eyes rested only momentarily on each of the maidens, none of whom appeared to be older than seventeen years, and he was impressed by Matipuyaut's munificence. They were all attractive. The other four of their number must be out attending to errands that would further feather this nest in preparation for the arrival of his men in a few days. Sensing the uneasiness caused by his unexpected arrival, he bid them a polite farewell and left.

It was clear that word of his coming had reached Taya since she was waiting for him at the edge of the village, her eyes eager and her mouth smiling. He had thought he'd been asked to the village to meet with Matipuyaut, but he now wondered if Taya's brother had escorted him here at her request. A glance at the young warrior's studied nonchalance was enough to strengthen this assumption, but when Cabrillo's eyes again found Taya his mind eased all other subjects to a more distant place.

The chief's son, noting the expression on Cabrillo's face, discreetly parted from them.

When Cabrillo and Taya had drawn close together, she said simply, “You have come.”

“I can stay...” he struggled to communicate the passing of numbered hours to one unfamiliar with the concept, and he finished by pointing to the sky and saying, “until the sun reaches there.”

She suppressed her dissatisfaction at so short a visit, turned, and led him to a small house not far from the dwelling of Matipuyaut. When Cabrillo entered, he saw Taya's sons sitting cross-legged before a young woman weaving a basket. At his arrival they all looked up, wide-eyed with curiosity and apprehension. He smiled to reassure them and said, “Greetings Muhu and Alow,” and they returned the welcome courteously. Wanting to avoid confusing which boy was which, Cabrillo made a mental note of the short striped owl feather suspended from a thong and hanging down Muhu's small chest.

Taya introduced the young woman as her sister, and, after a subtle signal that Cabrillo didn't detect, the boys were gracefully ushered out of the house by their aunt.

“Do you wish to eat?” Taya asked.

Still standing, Cabrillo declined her offer as he took his time admiring the cleanliness and comfort of her home. He turned back to find that she now stood directly behind him. He hesitated, unsure of the next appropriate step, but Taya was looking meaningfully at his sword, and she said, “You may remove your weapon now, Cabrillo. There is no danger here.”

Not altogether certain of the truth of this statement when all forms of danger were considered, he nevertheless unbuckled his belt and hung it from a wall peg. He then voiced something he'd wondered about many times. “Your name, Taya, what does it mean?”

“My full name is Tasin Taya.” She thought for a moment, and then went to a deep narrow basket suspended by its handle from the wall and withdrew a small skin that had been painted with red angular markings. She pointed to several of these symbols, and then to the red garnet imbedded in an amulet he wore at his breast. “Tasin.”

“Ah, red.”

She then went to the cooking stone near her fire and brought back a bowl shaped from an abalone shell. Running her fingertips around the vessel, pointing out to sea, and then pantomiming how she'd pried the shell from a boulder, she again held it up and said, “Taya.”

“Red abalone? Tasin Taya.”

Gladdened by his comprehension, she replaced the bowl near the fire. She motioned for him to sit beside her on the furs, and when he had done so said with a slight hesitation, “Our elders say that the unions of our women and your men will bless the people of our island, because you are gods.”

The shadow of a grin, insinuating that he was all too human, appeared at the corners of his mouth. “What do you say?”

Her eyes took him in, searching his face as if trying to discern the depth and texture of his soul. When she spoke it was with an intensity that moved him as much as her words. “I want a man.” She placed her hand on his chest for a moment, and then continued to speak and gesture. “This man, not a god. You chose me over other women who were not marked by shame. You were not afraid of me or my sons. You and your holy men brought honor and safety to our lives.” Dispelling the last of his unspoken questions, she said, “I want you, Cabrillo, only you.”

She reached up and gently removed his flat, round-brimmed hat, and then started unfastening the buttons at the chest of his long-sleeved doublet. He did not still her hands. His mind surrendered and softened as his eyes took in every aspect of her hair, shoulders, and breasts, and his nose inhaled her sweet, smoky scent. His scarred, thin, weary body absorbed and anticipated her questing touches at each of his many fastenings. When he made a movement to help her, she shifted his hands away, determined to gain proficiency through practice at this new task. As she worked, her glances constantly returned to his, observing his reactions and emotions. From her tightening concentration Cabrillo began to perceive a suspended hunger not wholly unlike that of a hunter nearing its prey, yet her agile fingers betrayed no outright sense of urgency as they moved steadily to his waist.

When the doublet was free she laid it aside and Cabrillo went to the bed of furs to remove his boots and hose. It didn't take him long. Standing once more, he would have untied his breeches, but here again Taya took over. She loosened the drawstring at his waist and her hands slid the breeches from his hips to the floor. His thigh-length shirt was now his only covering.

Casting one more glance at Taya, her beautiful features beckoning, he felt any lingering uncertainties crumble away. He pulled his shirt up and over his head with a single smooth motion. Under unabashed intensity he'd never before encountered in a woman, he held himself still as her eyes moved from his head to his feet, pausing where they would. Very soon, her fingers began to explore what her eyes had found.

His curiosity about what she was thinking and feeling quickly gave way to the hungers of his own body, and he pulled her nearer. Her cape and skirt fell away. Their bodies met in a feast of exploration and sensual acuteness that weakened their knees and lowered them to the bed.

The skilled workings of his mouth upon Taya's skin were new and enticing to her, and she responded with a fierceness of ardor that Cabrillo had not imagined possible. Here was neither the hesitant stranger giving her body in exchange for survival or reward, nor the virgin lady in love with him yet bound by doctrine and tradition to act chastely. No, Taya was different from any other woman he'd known.

As they moved upon the furs, as their bodies touched, and mingled, and tightened, Cabrillo vaguely sensed the depth of the emotion Taya was conveying with her body. She was offering herself freely, wildly, wholly, but this thought and every other was soon overtaken by the rising pitch of his passion. Neither of them uttered an intelligible word, and this only added force and intimacy as they reached and clung to the waves of their physical fulfillment.