At last the captain-general stilled the fork he’d been teetering between his fingers, slowly set it down, and said gravely, “Gentlemen, our present situation must be faced and dealt with.” Folding his hands together on the tabletop, he went on, saying, “There would be great risk in asking our ships to withstand the heavy storms of open sea without comprehensive repairs, which require an adequate harbor and significant time. Here, the weather is getting much colder and food sources are likely scarce and hard to obtain. Although wood surrounds us in abundance, gathering as much as would be necessary from those heights would expend much energy, and collecting enough water may also pose difficulties. For these reasons this harbor will not meet our needs for full repairs. We are left with the choice of turning back or pushing ahead. But even if every man of us was willing to accept the hazards of making hasty repairs and sailing on toward China, foremost among our reasons for yielding this position we have fought to reach is that there may be survivors behind us, men that we can aid. I will not abandon them without a thorough search.”
Although everyone in the room had known these harsh truths and not one of them disagreed with their commander’s intentions, hearing the words fall with such finality from his lips, understanding what surrendering this attempt meant to him, to all of them, was enough to cause sharp pain. Cabrillo gave them a minute: time to voice an objection. None came.
Their solidarity touched his battered spirit deeply, and his tone weakened as he said, “Our new course, to the south, is decided, then. Tomorrow, we will turn back.” He briefly met their individual gazes. “For all that each of you has given to our mission thus far and to me, I am profoundly grateful.”
At this last word his voice faltered and his gaze fell.
No one could speak, and as silence reigned over the group Mateo turned his face to the wall to hide his tears. It was Father Lezcano who dispelled the quiet by saying, “The captain-general has asked me to remain and pray with him, gentlemen. Will you kindly excuse us?” With a deliberation and deference that expressed what was left unsaid, the officers stood and bowed to their commander as they filed out, and as Pilot San Remón left the chamber he gently closed the door behind him.
Manuel went to Mateo and drew him to a far corner of the cabin. Paulo slowly rolled the cloth from the table and then stood with his back against the door, holding the bundle as if it were a swaddled baby, his head down and his eyes closed. Pulling one of the four holy books he possessed from his robe, Father Lezcano glanced at Cabrillo’s drawn face and lowered eyelids, and began to read.
Chapter 20
HOPES SURRENDERED, HOPES FULFILLED
Wearing a weary expression that seemed almost calm, Cabrillo stood before the gathering men with his back turned to a golden sunrise. During the lengthy hours of the night he’d beaten back the personal demons that had still hovered after Father Lezcano’s departure. Now the time had come to voice his decision to the crews, though word had undoubtedly spread to many of them already. The San Miguel floated close by, holding her position and awaiting the coming words from the fleet’s commander.
“Men,” he called out in a loud, clear voice, “during the storm you fought with the courage of lions, believing as you struggled that we would sail on to reach our goal in the East. But by every sign nature has given us, that end still lies far from our grasp, farther than we can hope to reach before the worst of winter arrives. For now, we must head for a warmer harbor and make repairs. This will postpone any reward for our labors but we will sail north again when the weather allows. Also, and certainly most important to us all, by retracing a portion of our previous route, we will seize the best chance of finding La Victoria.”
Little more than a sigh was heard in reaction to his announcement. Though the expressions of a number of men showed relief, most faces reflected the same disappointment their leaders were trying to conceal. Only a few, a handful of rowers aboard the San Miguel, bent their heads together and muttered in disgust.
Cabrillo went on, his voice gaining power with each phrase. “As we sail southward each man and boy must keep a sharp watch. We must find that ship. Hear me, men! If she carries but a single survivor, we must find her!”
Shouts and raised fists demonstrated their willingness to accept Cabrillo’s challenge, no matter how unlikely the prospects for success. One seaman stepped forward and avowed, “If she’s still afloat, sir, we’ll spy her out!”
Another cried, “Nary a floating stick will get by us, sir!”
Cabrillo watched them, silently praying their faith wouldn’t be crushed.
As the crews retook their stations the captain-general called out the new course to his helmsman, and the two ships turned their bowsprits away from the land of their ambitions. Everyone on the decks glued his gaze to what lay before and around them in search of a sail, barrel, mast, or body.
Through the early hours they sailed swiftly on, covering many leagues along the coast. As the day aged, men who had strained their vision in the hope of being the first to notice anything unnatural now let their gazes stray. And they began to wonder, “Shouldn’t we have seen something by now, some token of La Victoria’s survival or destruction?” Many in the crew began to believe what they had refused to accept earlier; that the storm had overwhelmed La Victoria as it had countless other ships, and the sea had claimed those aboard for its own. When mile after additional mile revealed nothing they occasionally turned toward Cabrillo, attempting to guess his thoughts and anticipate his mood. Father Lezcano and Manuel kept a determined watch and prayed for an unlikely sighting, not only for the sakes of their sailing companions but also for the well-being of their captain-general.
Cabrillo would not leave the decks, not even to eat, and his probing glances swept the sea and shore with an intensity that only seemed to grow as the hours of remaining daylight diminished. Watching him, a few of his men wondered if he hoped to raise his lost ship from the depths by the sheer force of his will. The sun had been lowering for several hours, and its beams were breaking through a canopy of uneven clouds when Mateo approached Cabrillo with tentative steps. The captain-general did not stir, but Mateo said, “Sir?”
Cabrillo did not take his gaze from the sea.
“Sir,” Mateo tried again, “Paulo asks that you come to your table. You have eaten nothing but a little cheese today, sir.”
When no answer came Mateo was about to speak for the third time when Cabrillo said, “Tell Paulo I am not hungry, Mateo.”
Sucking in a strengthening breath, Mateo said, “Sir, uncle, please.”
“Uncle, is it?” At last Cabrillo looked at him and saw the worry and affection reflected there.
Momentarily stripped of a layer of emotional armor, Cabrillo allowed himself to feel his own exhaustion, his hunger, and even a small portion of his anguish. These sensations were not enough, however, to slacken his scrutiny while there was still sunlight. “Soon, Mateo,” he gave the boy. “Tell Paulo I will come soon, and then I will eat my fill.”
Mateo recognized this as a dismissal, but he could not bring himself to leave him yet. Cabrillo reached out and laid his hand on the boy’s weather-tangled hair in a gesture that looked like a benediction. Father Lezcano, who had approached them quietly, stepped closer and said, “Come, Mateo.”
As the boy reluctantly began to turn away his head lifted and his body went suddenly rigid. His eyes bulged, and he began to gasp, “Uh, uh, uh!” in such strident tones that many turned toward him. Cabrillo grabbed his shoulders, but Mateo jerked away and aimed a flailing arm toward the coast. Before the boy could utter an intelligible word the lookout screamed, “Captain-General, a sail ahead! A point off the port bow! A sail! A sail!”
Cabrillo’s gaze flew in that direction, where it found and clung to white patches of canvas hugging the coast at least six miles ahead. Wild cheers burst from his men, and Cabrillo’s haggard face shone with the overpowering sense of gratitude and relief that swept through him. She was safe. La Victoria was
safe. After the initial moments of elation, however, Andrés de Urdaneta’s cautioning words suddenly stung the captain-general’s memory, and his expression abruptly wavered. Before their departure from Navidad his friend had said, “If you spot a Portuguese ship, beware.” He had been advising Cabrillo to keep poison close at hand in the event he was captured during the voyage, a suggestion that had never been seriously considered. Now, with the ship ahead still too far away to clearly distinguish, he realized that she could be Portuguese, or even English. If so, given their weakened condition, what trials might await them?
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.
Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon Page 29