Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon (26 page)

As their negotiations were drawing to a close he asked the chief a question that had been nagging at him for some days, “Why do your people burn the earth?”

To this uneducated question, Wocha replied tolerantly, “We burn the grass so many acorns can be gathered. During the next moon we will find acorns enough to last until the following harvest. Burning also brings animals to eat the new grass and we hunt them.”

Both Wocha and Cabrillo posed many other questions, and all were answered to the best of their limited communication skills. As their meeting drew near its conclusion Cabrillo formally introduced Father Lezcano and did his best to explain his role among their people. Wocha grasped the priest's position at once and brought forth his own holy man.

Father Lezcano, showing the shaman diligent respect, explained the basic tenets of the Christian faith. As the descriptions became more clearly understood, the shaman's face revealed cautious fascination. The priest then placed a rosary in Wocha's hand, explaining with the beautiful simplicity of a faith-filled man, “When you pray to Our God, he will hear your words. He loves all people.”

Accepting the rosary deferentially, Wocha distinguished this gift from the many others he'd received by placing it around his neck and allowing the crucifix to rest among his shells upon his bare chest.

Not entirely comfortable with so sacred an object being used for personal adornment, especially prior to the baptism of its owner, Father Lezcano had the good sense to keep his misgivings to himself.

Judging that the appropriate moment had come, Cabrillo rose to his feet, followed by his men. With numerous good wishes exchanged they took leave of their host, his people, and Manuel. Before starting back toward their boats Cabrillo said in parting to Manuel, his mouth twitching, “You have your musket but use it only if these women threaten to wear the very life out of you.”

Father Lezcano asked uneasily, “Do you think there may be any real danger to him, sir?”

“I do not, or I would not leave him here, but we will keep watch throughout the night.” To Manuel, he said, “If we hear a shot, you will have us beside you very quickly.”

“Yes, sir. I know I will. Thank you, Captain-General.”

“You realize that every man of the fleet will be cursing your name tonight.”

He grinned a little ruefully, but only a little. “I know that too, sir.”

“You had better be off. Your women are waiting.”

As Cabrillo passed the last of the native homes, he said in speculation, “Look at the size of these houses, Father. At least four dozen pairs of eyes will likely watch every move Manuel makes tonight. Somehow, that offers a bit of comfort to the rest of us.”

Chapter 13

D
ELICATE
A
FFAIRS

C
abrillo's landing party climbed to the flagship's main deck and Pilot San Remón asked with concern, “I do not see Manuel, sir. Is he remaining ashore?”

Motioning his pilot to the less crowded quarterdeck, Cabrillo said, “Their chief wanted him to stay the night.”

“Indeed, sir? What for?”

“To add strength to their people, physically as well as spiritually, I believe, in the form of future offspring.”

Both surprised and amused, the pilot said, “And he was willing to do his utmost to satisfy this lofty responsibility, I presume?”

“More than willing.”

“How good of him to avail himself.”

Spotting Father Lezcano surreptitiously watching, Cabrillo said, “Yes, well, our good priest does not wholly approve of the arrangement.”

“Well, sir, he is a priest.”

They both smiled and soon drifted off to see to their duties.

Word of Manuel's mission ashore spread with the rapidity of the plague from man to man and ship to ship, and throughout the long hours of darkness many a sailor conjectured about his activities. Cabrillo was heartened that no musket shot rang out to disturb the quietness.

The next afternoon just prior to conducting a formal rite of possession in the village the natives called Xucu, and which Cabrillo would christen Pueblo de las Canoas, Father Lezcano entered the captain-general's cabin and asked casually enough, “It has been some time, sir, and I was wondering if you wish to confess prior to claiming this land in the name of Our Lord?”

Cabrillo tossed back a look that implied Father Lezcano was sorely trying his tolerance and said, “I do not relish the position of having a priest aboard my ship, a priest young enough to be my son, whom I have already had flogged, no less, and who has since developed such an admirable nature that his friendship has become quite valuable to me. Yet there you stand, feeling perfectly free to use heavenly authority in an attempt to modify my behavior beyond all appropriate bounds!”

Not the least ruffled, Father Lezcano replied, “It is only my objective, sir, to modify your behavior so that it falls
within
appropriate bounds.”

“You are toying with my words, Father.”

“Only to serve God, Captain-General, and you. Do you wish to confess now, sir?”

Cabrillo cast an unconvincing glower. “I should say no, to remind you of your place.”

Father Lezcano answered him with a saintly smile.

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Cabrillo did so with such a degree of helpless acquiescence that it delivered the same response as a nod.

Concealing his satisfaction, the priest said, “We should have just enough time before heading ashore for the ceremony.”

“Time enough to confess my sins, perhaps, but far from long enough to save my soul. Oh, very well, you brigand of a priest.”

Afterward, not that he would have admitted it to Father Lezcano, Cabrillo discerned a closer sense of peace; a forgiveness he felt he did not deserve but wanted to grasp just the same. The weight of his responsibility to his God, his king, and even his men felt slightly lightened.

Heading ashore, he found Manuel waiting, as previously ordered, and his ex-slave fell into step beside him. His black face and body looked as if he'd been chained to oars in a three-day tempest, but Cabrillo had little time to question him before the ritual began. Manuel stood close by his commander and refrained from glancing toward the crowd of natives.

While presiding over the claiming of Puebla de las Canoas the captain-general was touched by the splendidly mild, sunny morning that wrapped them all in its benevolence. He would have loved to delay leaving, scaling the nearby hills, trekking up the river's course, swimming in the nearby lagoon, and learning more of the Indians' ways. But that was not to be, not now. At the rites' conclusion, he added a silent prayer that the future would allow him to come back and take all the time he wished here.

The others began to disperse, and Cabrillo found a moment to eye Manuel again. “Heaven help you, man. If you were a horse I would say you have been ridden nearly to death.”

“That is not so very far from the truth, sir. I'm bone tired.”

“You are not trying to say you regret last night?”

“Well, no, sir, I can't say such a thing as that. I
am
sorry if what I did was sinful, but a man could have no pleasanter duty on earth.” Glancing up at the group of Indians that seemed unable to shift its attention away from him, Manuel added, “I must admit, sir, being watched by so many while... while a man is... well, it makes things more uneasy than it ought to be.”

“Uneasy. Yes, I am sure it would. Still,” he nodded toward Manuel's clustered admirers, “all signs point to your having performed admirably under trying conditions.” Cabrillo's devilish tone pulled an embarrassed smile from Manuel.

“Come, there will be no rest for anyone today, especially not you. The men must be given no excuse to foster their envy of your exploits. There is work enough for all if we are to finish repairing the ships before we can depart. And, Manuel, do not let the day pass without confessing before Father Lezcano. Our priest particularly desires to perform absolutions today.”

Manuel's smile dissolved into an expression of dread. “Yes, sir, I'll confess everything, but that may take quite a little time.”

Cabrillo chuckled softly and clapped Manuel on the back as they went to join their men.

The routines of scraping, caulking, washing, sealing, oiling, patching, carving, trimming, and knotting continued in earnest with every hand put to good use. Manuel was so constantly bombarded with prodding and questioning by his fellow crewmen that Cabrillo finally decided he'd had enough. At mid-afternoon he set off with Dr. Fuentes, Father Lezcano, Manuel, two village healers, and a small contingent of guards to scout the surrounding area for native foods and medicinal herbs. As they hiked along well-worn paths Cabrillo listened attentively to the descriptions of a valley many miles inland where maize and game were plentiful. Farther still, he was told, a tall mountain range divided the landscape, and he recorded these along with every other discovery made during their frequent stops to collect plants.

To Dr. Fuentes and Cabrillo's fascination, plant life here was almost limitless in how it provided medicinal benefits to the Indians skilled in their use. They saw only a few species that the natives described along their track, since much of the medicinal flora was acquired by trading with tribes to the north and east. But upon their return to the village, they were shown many more curatives in their dried state. Cabrillo and his physician learned that the leaves of maple trees, wild ginger, giant hyssop, ragweed, columbine, the roots and leaves of yarrow, the twigs of greasewood, the leaves and bark of alder trees, the needles and bark of fir trees, the roots and juice of angelica, the blossoms of cottonweed, the juice of milkweed, the roots of balsam, as well as the parts of seemingly countless other plants held medicinal secrets. By the time they returned to the ships, Cabrillo's notes and drawings filled five pages of his parchment.

Upon his arrival at the beach he could plainly see that the other officers had done a fine job of keeping the men to their tasks. Already the ships presented themselves more respectably. If the work continued at this pace, they should be able to set sail the day after tomorrow.

Espying Cabrillo, Captain Ferrelo approached him and said eagerly, “Captain-General, I have been studying the construction of the native canoes, and I would like to share a discovery. Will you come with me, sir?”

They walked with a few Chumash men to the side of a plank canoe, where Captain Ferrelo crouched down and pointed to the seams. “Look at the sealant, sir. If I understand the natives correctly, they call it
yop
and it is a mixture of pine pitch and an ingredient called
chapopote
. The quality seems extraordinary, sir, much better than pitch alone.”

Cabrillo ran his hands over the tightly joined lines, noting with fascination the tough flexibility of the black sealant. “Where does the second ingredient come from, Captain Ferrelo?”

“I will be happy to show you, sir.”

They didn't have far to go before stopping beside a pool of smelly, shiny, thick, black goo. Cabrillo asked in amazement, “It just seeps from the ground?”

“It does, sir. There are a number of these springs nearby.”

Cabrillo bent down and touched the tip of his fingers at the edge of the pool, then rubbed the warm tar-like substance between them, evaluating its elasticity and strength. “This is a marvel, Captain Ferrelo. A true marvel.”

He stood and questioned a native about the durability of the sealant, and the response was enthusiastic gestures meaning, “Strong! Good!”

“I have noticed that they use the yop to seal more than canoes, sir,” said Ferrelo. “They turn large abalone shells into bowls and tightly woven baskets into drinking bottles. It seems to be highly serviceable.”

“Then it is worth investigating further. Attempt to trade for a number of barrels so we can test it thoroughly, Captain. Use it on a launch first. If it withstands the sea well, as it appears it will, we will seal the ships with it.”

To Cabrillo's caulkers' delight, the people of Wocha's village willingly accepted several pairs of scissors in exchange for the asphaltum and helped load two barrels aboard each ship.

Hoping to repay a portion of Wocha's magnanimity, Cabrillo invited the chief and two men of his choosing to dine with him, his captains, and his priests that evening. So large a company crowded the snug cabin and makeshift table but all who gathered proved themselves most congenial, especially his officers after taking up their small glasses of wine. At Wocha's first taste of the deep crimson liquid, Cabrillo could see that the chief was trying politely to hide his unfavorable reaction. Much more to his liking was the salty smoothness of Cabrillo's esteemed olives, as well as the sweet crustiness of a baked dessert filled with spiced ground almonds. Wocha had contributed to the feast by bringing maguey, fresh clams, and fish aboard. And although Cabrillo had noticed that the natives generally ate their fish raw, the chief was cordial enough to allow his catches to be cooked by Paulo. He even made a show of approving of the garlic-flavored outcome. Having no appreciation for how to cook the maguey leaves in anything like an impressive manner, Paulo tactfully placed these out of sight.

More fascinating to the chief than the food were the dishes and trays it was served on. He fingered and eyed each piece of silver, glass, and china within his range, especially his delicate glass wine chalice. Much to the chief's delight, Cabrillo offered him this goblet for his small collection. To reciprocate, Wocha removed the finest of his shell necklaces and handed it to his host.

“Here, now,” said Cabrillo, truly moved, “this is something I shall indeed treasure. I shall think of you, Wocha, every time I look at it.” Pleasing the chief even more than the sincerity of his words, Cabrillo tied the decoration around his neck and patted it proudly.