Part 5 (1/2)
”Spaniards? That is impossible,” returned Cabrillo.
”They say that they are bearded, wear clothes like yours, and have white faces,” answered the boy, simply.
”They must be mistaken, or perhaps you did not understand them fully,”
said the master. ”At another time we will question them further. Now, give them this present of beads and hurry back, for it is late.”
That night some of the men from the s.h.i.+ps went on sh.o.r.e to fish. While they were drawing their nets, the Indians stole up softly and discharged their arrows, wounding three. The boy Juan had the most serious injury, an arrow being so deeply embedded in his shoulder that it could not be removed until they reached the s.h.i.+p. There the padre, who, like most priests of that day, knew something of surgery, drew it out, and bound up the shoulder in soothing balsams.
On the second day of their stay in port the wind began to blow from the southwest; the waves grew rough, and Cabrillo ordered the s.h.i.+ps to be made ready for the tempest, which soon became violent. Meantime, Juan lay suffering in his hammock, which swung backward and forward with the motion of the s.h.i.+p. Suddenly he heard a step beside him and felt a cool hand on his forehead.
”How goes it, lad?” said Cabrillo, for it was the master himself. ”You are suffering in a good cause. Have courage; you will soon be well.
Remember, you have helped to discover a harbor, the like of which is seldom found. This storm is a severe one. I can hear the surf booming on the farther sh.o.r.e, yet our s.h.i.+p shows no strain on the anchor. Good harbor though it is, I am sorely disappointed, as I had hoped it was the entrance to the strait, the strait that seems a phantom flying before us as we go, drawing us onward to we know not what.” The sadness of the captain's voice troubled Juan.
”Master,” he asked earnestly, ”what is the strait? I hear of it often, yet no one can tell me what it is, or where it lies.”
”Because no one knows,” answered the captain, rising. ”I am needed on deck, but I will send old Tomas to tell you its strange story.”
”The secret of the strait,” said old Tomas, as he seated himself beside Juan, ”has led many men to gallant deeds and also many a man to a gallant death. Always, since as a lad I first went to sea, the merchants of many lands have been seeking a safe and speedy way of reaching the Indies, where are found such foods, spices, and jewels as one sees nowhere else in the world.
”My father and grandfather used to travel with caravans overland to and from India. There are several routes, each controlled by some one of the great Italian cities, but all have somewhere to cross the desert, where the trains are often robbed by wild tribes. Sometimes, as they come nearer home, they are held by the Turks for heavy tribute, with such loss that the merchants have been forced to turn to the sea in hopes that a better way might be found. It was while searching for this route that Columbus discovered the new world, and when the news of his success was brought back to Europe there was great rejoicing, because it was thought that he had reached some part of India. Magellan's voyage, however, destroyed these hopes. He sailed for months down the eastern sh.o.r.e of the new land, and discovered, far away to the south, a strait through which he reached the great South Sea, but then he still sailed on for nearly a year before he came to the Spice Islands and Asia.
”Now every one believes that somewhere through this land to the north of us there is a wide, deep sea pa.s.sage from the North Sea [Atlantic] to the South Sea [Pacific], by which s.h.i.+ps may speedily reach India. This pa.s.sage is called the Strait of Anian.
”The great captain, Hernando Cortez, the conqueror of New Spain [Mexico]
spent many years and a large fortune seeking for this water way. Four different expeditions he sent out to explore this coast: most of them at his own cost. In the second one his pilot, Jiminez, led a mutiny, murdered his captain, and afterward discovered, accidentally, the southern point of this land we are now exploring. But it was not the good fortune of the n.o.ble Cortez to discover the strait. Our captain is the next to take up the search, and may G.o.d send him success.”
After a stay of nearly a week in the bay of San Diego, Cabrillo continued his voyage up the coast, sailing by day, anchoring at night.
He touched at an island which he named San Salvador, but which we know as Santa Catalina. Here, by his kind and generous treatment, he won the friends.h.i.+p of the natives. From this beautiful spot, he sailed, one Sunday morning, to the mainland. Entering the Bay of San Pedro, he found it enveloped in smoke.
”It seems a fair port,” said the commander, ”but go no farther inland.
Drop anchor while we can see our way. We may well call this the Bay of Smokes.” The fires, they found, had been started by the Indians to drive the rabbits from shelter, so they could be the more easily killed.
Sailing on, the s.h.i.+ps anch.o.r.ed off a thickly settled valley, where the town of Ventura now lies. Here, on October 12, 1542, Cabrillo and his company went on sh.o.r.e and took solemn possession of the land in the name of the king of Spain and the viceroy of Mexico. Here, and along the channel, the people were better-looking, more comfortably lodged and clothed, than those farther south. They also had good canoes, which the natives of the lower coast did not possess. Pus.h.i.+ng on, the explorer saw and noted the channel islands and rounded Point Conception. From here he was driven back by contrary winds, and toward nightfall of a stormy day found himself near the little island now named San Miguel.
”We will call it La Posesion and take it for our own,” said Cabrillo, ”for, if we can but make it, there seems to be a good harbor here.” The storm, however, grew more severe. The sea rose until occasionally the waves swept over the smaller s.h.i.+p, which was without a deck. Here occurred a most unhappy accident. Something about the s.h.i.+p, a spar probably, loosened by the storm, fell and struck the brave commander, breaking his arm. Although severely injured, he would not have the wounds dressed until, after a long period of anxiety, the two s.h.i.+ps entered in safety the little harbor of San Miguel.
Here, stormbound, they remained for a week. When they ventured forth, they again met with high winds and bad weather. Cabrillo, who in spite of discouragements never forgot his search for the strait, pushed close insh.o.r.e and kept much of the time on deck looking for some signs of a river or pa.s.sage. One morning at daybreak, after a rough night, they found themselves drifting in an open bay.
”It is a fine roadstead,” said Cabrillo, coming on deck, as the sun rose over the pine-covered hills. ”Were it smaller, it would be a welcome harbor. We will name it from those majestic trees La Bahia de Pinos, and yonder long projection we will call the Cabo de Pinos.” That bay is now called Monterey, but the cape still bears the name given it by this first explorer.
Anchoring in forty-five fathoms of water, they tried to go on sh.o.r.e, in order to take possession of the land, but the sea was so rough that they could not launch their boats. The next day they discovered and named some mountains which they called Sierra Nevada, and, sailing on, went as far north as about 40. But this winter voyage was made at a great sacrifice. The exposure and hards.h.i.+ps, following the wound he had received, were too much for even the hardy sailor Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo. After weeks of struggle with storms, the s.h.i.+ps were forced back to their old shelter at San Miguel. Here Christmas week was spent, but a sad holiday it was to the explorers, for their brave leader lay dying. n.o.bly had he done his duty up to the last.
”Juan,” he said, to his young attendant, on Christmas Eve, ”how gladly the bells will be ringing in Lisbon to-night. I seem to hear them now.
They drive out all other sounds. Call Ferrelo and let no one else come but the padre.” Very soon Juan returned with Cabrillo's first a.s.sistant, the pilot, Ferrelo, a brave navigator and a just man.
”Ferrelo,” said Cabrillo, faintly, ”Death calls me, and the duty I lay down you must take up. I command you to push the expedition northward at all hazards, and to keep such records as are necessary in order that fitting account of our voyage shall be given to the world. Will you promise me to do this?”
”I will, my master,” said Ferrelo, simply. ”To the best of my ability will I take up your work.”