Angelina's Oak

by Jesse Reiss

Los Angeles: November 15, 1542

  The Tongva fishermen had spotted something new and strange, far off on the distant ocean horizon. It was approaching the shore, appearing first as a small speck that danced with the sunlight on the ocean’s waves and then it slowly grew larger.

  Tyoo-Rut stood up in his canoe, transfixed, watching it come closer and closer. He was a young hunter in his village, adept at setting traps for small game like rabbits and at fishing in the ocean. Straining his eyes the best he could, he now saw the approaching object was three shapes, not one, and from the distance he could see that though these objects were as large as whales, they rode on top of the water with long straight poles out of the tops with many white sheets hanging from them.

  “What are they?” he turned and asked his brother, Fulnoog, who was shading his eyes and trying to discern details.

  “I cannot tell,” Fulnoog answered, shaking his head.

  They gathered their nets and paddled back to the shore where other villagers who had come to the shoreline for various chores had gathered in silence, watching the strange leviathans appear.

  Thousands of years of tribal legends, myths and traditions hadn’t spoken of anything like this. The Tongva were the first and only known humans to occupy this land. All across the basin from one mountain range to the next, they had grown to thirty villages and five thousand inhabitants. It was a prosperous and productive community that lived peacefully — if somewhat indolently — off the land. They mostly lived near rivers and in the proximity of oak trees, which provided all they needed to survive. They hunted small game and could navigate the coastal waters in their canoes, fishing and trading with other tribes who lived to the north and south. They had lived in this area for at least 2,500 years, shielded from outsiders by the inland mountains and deserts.

  “It might be a message from Qua-o-ar,” Tyoo-Rut said, watching from the shore as the objects approached closer. Qua-o-ar was the single God and “Giver of Life” who created the Earth and the first man, (Tobohar) and first woman (Pabavit) and lived in that glorious place where all souls go when they die.

  “Maybe and maybe not,” Fulnoog said, looking at his brother and his mate, Chukit, who had come over from where she had been collecting seashells. She stood next to them in the sand, squinting to try to get in all the detail she could.

  “It is large ti’at’s!” Chukit said with a beam on her face. “And there are strange people on them as well!” She had the best eyesight and was proud to have been able to identify these objects before anyone else. Tyoo-Rut and Fulnoog smiled at her. Tyoo-Rut and Chukit had become inseparable and were arranged to marry in the spring. Today, Chukit had shunned her duties leaching acorns in the village to accompany them on a fishing trip, as she was finding it harder and harder to stay separated from her chosen mate despite being lightly admonished by her father for what was seen as childish behavior.

  Other children on the shore, now seeing the same thing, started to jump up and down and chatter, describing to their elders all their sharp young eyes could see.

  “We shall greet them and share with them the pleasures of the Earth and bring them to the village to meet the shaman and celebrate,” Tyoo-Rut said, signaling to other men and women nearby to gather around.

  An hour later two canoes, with eight men in each, plus Chukit, who insisted on going because she was the first to identify them, walked into the ocean and began wading out, fighting against the waves. When they were up to their necks in the water, they climbed aboard their ti’ats and began to paddle towards the strange objects, which had now weighed anchor a few hundred yards out.

  The canoes had been devised by their ancestors, fixing together wood planks and sealing the joints with tar, which was found in one sacred place in the region. They brought acorn meal and fruit to give to the strangers and the weapons they used to hunt with, mostly out of habit and not with any thought of self defense as they saw no reason to expect danger to come from people who looked similar to them.

  From the lead ship, Juan Cabrillo peered through his spyglass and took in the two canoes heading towards his ships. He was a Spanish conquistador and amongst the richest in all Mexico. The Viceroy of New Spain, Antonio de Mendoza, had commissioned him to lead an expedition up the Pacific coastline, expecting it to lead to a coastal route above the Pacific to the Orient in the west and possibly a route to the Hudson Bay. Such discoveries would fulfill the quest for a western route to the Orient that Columbus had searched for. A northern route to the Hudson Bay would open up an alternate route for trading with Europe that didn’t entail sailing around South America. But his primary purpose for his travels was the search for the legend of the Seven Cities with all its precious metals and jewels. With these he could amass an even greater fortune. He had a few months earlier stopped to resupply his ships and was coming ashore, for further exploration and fresh supplies.

  He snapped the spyglass shut and came down from the fo’c’stle with a spring in his step. Sailors of various sizes and nationalities awaited his orders. “Gentlemen, these natives have canoes and they are coming out to meet us. We’ll assess their intentions and hopefully make peace and trade to replenish our supplies.” He had a few natives from Mexico aboard and ordered them above deck as possible translators, should the natives be able to understand each other.

  As the canoes approached the anchored ships, Tyoo-Rut stood up at the fore to examine the mighty Spanish vessels before him. They had to be made by God he thought, for he couldn’t see how humans could construct anything this size. Yards and spars with intricate rigging arrangements seemed to balance themselves in the air above the ships, like a spider’s web connecting itself between branches. He took in the curving bow with the nude forming the prow, wondering if it was an effigy possibly to honor or maybe dishonor someone. The largest ship they approached had the words “SAN FERNANDO” in bold letters on its front, which meant nothing to him. Even more interesting were the people looking down from the deck: white skinned men with shaggy beards, long coats, strange shaped hats and shiny buttons. He noticed a few black men and a couple that had dark skin and broad faces that looked similar to his own tribal members.

  He raised his hands in a symbolic gesture and a Juan Cabrillo’s voice boomed down: “Welcome aboard, natives!”

  He didn’t understand the words spoken, but the voice was friendly and the man was smiling and waving his hat in the air. A Jacob’s ladder was flung over the side as the canoes approached and Tyoo-Rut took it as a peaceful gesture and an offering to climb aboard.

  Tyoo-Rut was the first to reach the top deck and was greeted by these oddly dressed strangers in a half circle with Juan Cabrillo in the middle, extending a hand for him to shake. He took it precariously, unsure how to act in the presence of these men who were smiling at him and speaking in sounds he didn’t even know the tongue was possible to make. Clearly they had far superior technology to his people and were from another world. He smiled back and that brought cheers from the crowd. They were indeed peaceful people.

  Cabrillo was displeased to see that the native that came aboard only had on a reed skirt and carried a thin fishing spear. He didn’t have any jewels or precious metals adorning him, like he was used to seeing with the Mayans. This was an indication that there were no precious metals in this land.

  Tyoo-Rut called down to his people in the canoes and, leaving a couple behind to keep them from drifting off, they slowly climbed aboard and similar hands were clumsily shaken as a peace sign. The fresh fruit and acorn meal they brought aboard was handed forward and eagerly grabbed up by the men.

  As this was happening, a native from Mexico, emaciated and scared, was thrust before him. With a few prods and shouts from Cabrillo he started to speak in a garbled version of Tyoo-Rut’s language. He tried speaking back to the man and the two looked at each other confused, unable to come to a comprehension. After a few minutes they were able to establish that Tyoo-Rut’s people weren’t hungry, but did have food in
their villages that they would trade for.

  Cabrillo appeared annoyed with the two being unable to understand each other and he thrust the native aside, stepping forward to take over negotiations. He pulled a gold nugget from his pocket and held it up a few inches from Tyoo-Rut’s face, raising his eyebrows in a questioning and suggestive manner. Tyoo-Rut studied the nugget closely. He could see it was something shiny and was intrigued, but it wasn’t something he was familiar with.

  As Tyoo-Rut stood there studying the nugget like a foreign object, Chukit pulled herself over the railing and the mood changed. They looked over at her, dropping their jaws and widening their eyes. Some started to whistle and point. She looked at them, confused and nervous, not understanding the attention she was demanding. A pockmarked man stepped over to her and with his tongue wagging from his mouth, ran his hand lightly up her open chest. She backed away, scared and offended by the gesture.

  Cabrillo let out a shout and the man stepped back smiling, unabashed by his lewd behavior. The other men continued to stare at her and whistle. Chukit stepped back to the railing and Fulnoog stepped in front of her with a protective stare.

  Looking among them, Tyoo-Rut began to understand the cause behind their reaction to her: There were no women aboard this vessel. Clearly there must be women somewhere, he thought, for in order for there to be men there must be women. Unless, these weren’t normal men and they weren’t born as he knew it to be done and maybe this was the first female they had ever seen. He was puzzled by this whole experience. The chatter among the men was confusing, the ship, its size and dimensions and grandeur was too much. He started to get dizzy and panicky and dropped the gold nugget and stepped back.

  Sensing things could get messy, Cabrillo quieted the men and had a small chest pulled forward and opened. Pulling out several small glass mirrors, he offered them to the natives closest to him, smiling and nodding his head with approval repeatedly. They took the mirrors and looked at them with surprise and wonder. They could see themselves in them, like they could see themselves in still water, only this was clearer. They tried putting their finger through the reflection and turning it over and seeing how it worked, but could only surmise it was magic. The mood began to change.

  When they understood that the strangers wished to trade the next day for more mirrors and trinkets, they rowed their canoes back to the shore, excited and eager to show other tribe members at the village what they had received. Tyoo-Rut and Chukit rowed back in silence.

  Word had spread to the other villages in the area and each one was abuzz about the gossip of these strangers that had arrived. Rumors started to spread about their strange clothing that hid their white skin from the sun and their large ships that could float high above the water. That night the Tongva’s held a celebration of thanks to Qua-o-ar for bringing them these strangers who possessed powerful boats and magical gifts. Around the campfire the encounters were played out in dances with festive songs.

  The next morning at the first light, villagers arrived to the beach with their arms laden with items to trade with the visitors. They carried beads, baskets, obsidian rocks, tar, acorn bread and fruits. A buzz ran through the group as they speculated on what magical items these strange visitors might bring ashore for them.

  The first two boats from the ships arrived, docking against a rocky prominence that would allow them to come and go without having to fight the waves that crashed onto the shore.

  And so it happened that the first white man set foot in Los Angeles.

  The village chief led the party along the shore and down to where the strangers had docked. They arrived and though they could hardly speak through the translators, they were able to amicably engage in trade for the white man’s mirrors, clothing articles, metal tools and tobacco. Each item’s usefulness was demonstrated to the natives, who marveled in delight.

  Negotiations continued peacefully, until the man who had offended Chukit, Ivan Salto, pointed to her with a demanding gesture. The friendly atmosphere dissipated. The man was an officer on the ship and used to getting his way. He was ornery looking, bearded and only just recently recovering from a smallpox infection. He stood half a head taller than the natives and his stench indicated he hadn’t bathed in many months.

  Ivan placed in Tyoo-Rut’s hands several silver coins, which the native had admired but didn’t know what they were for. He reached out and yanked Chukit beside him and indicated with his hands that this was a fair trade. Chukit pulled back in fear, understanding now what the man was intending by thinking he could buy her. His smell repulsed her, like a dead animal’s rotting entrails. She felt his firm grip cutting off the blood flow in her arm as he smiled lustfully at her.

  Tyoo-Rut shook his head and shouted something at Ivan that he couldn’t understand and the natives stepped forward, threateningly. He threw the silver coins at Ivan’s feet and motioned with his hands that there was no trade.

  “We’re not taking her back to the ship, Ivan,” Cabrillo said calmly in Spanish. “And we’re not going to upset these natives by taking their women.”

  “Aye Captain, but I’ve made a fair trade here with this savage and I intend to have this one as mine, even if it’s for only a few minutes.”

  The village chief stepped forward and placed a hand on Tyoo-Rut’s trembling shoulder. “If it is Chukit they want, they can have her. These people with their superior sailing and technology are clearly messengers from Qua-o-ar and we don’t want to offend them.” Tyoo-Rut stepped back slowly with anguish on his face, staring at Chukit, who was shaking in fear. “Come,” the chief said again, “we are done trading for the day.” He motioned for the other villagers to turn around and return and they slowly did so. He pulled on Tyoo-Rut’s arm and slowly got him to start walking backwards.

  Chukit twisted her arm, trying to wrestle free from the stranger’s grip, but he had too firm a grasp on her. She began talking to him defiantly in her native tongue with hatred in her eyes. Pulling her along, he began to walk away from the other men who were heading back down the rocky slope to their boats. With a big smile on his face, he was headed to several large boulders fifty feet away where he could lay claim to his prize. Chukit saw where he was taking her and began to fight, swinging her free fist up to the man’s face. She clawed and punched at him, causing little effect. He became annoyed by this and stopped, grabbing her other arm so he had both forearms in his hands and pulled them together, locking both in one tight grip so he could free his other hand. He reached his arm around her waist to pick her up. She twisted and fell down, resisting his grasp. He ended up grabbing her reed skirt and it tore off. It fell to the ground, leaving her, except for her necklaces, nude from head to toe. His eyes went wide and he let out a crazy lecherous laugh, swinging her up and over his shoulder.

  Tyoo-Rut fought the urge inside to turn around and come to her aid, but defying the chief and disgracing his people would bring terrible consequences. He heard her distant cries and cursing as the white man dragged her away. He felt shameful and humiliated, knowing the woman who was supposed to be joined with him was being given up to a stranger who wanted nothing more than to use her. He gripped his spear and fought back the rage that grew within him with each sob and curse he heard her utter. “Qua-o-ar does not do this,” he said aloud to himself. Between the despairing wails, she screamed his name.

  Tyoo-Rut spun and in a flash was running at a full sprint down the promontory, towards the boulder the white man had pulled Chukit behind.

  The men, now waiting in the boats, had been watching the commotion and were laughing and hooting. Out of the corner of their eye they saw Tyoo-Rut running at full speed. Never had they seen a human being move so fast. Their cheering and hoots turned to warning shouts.

  Ivan had Chukit’s on the ground with a knife at her throat. He was on his knees and having trouble loosening his breeches with his one free hand. He heard the warning shouts and spun around to see the enraged Indian charging right at him with a spear
lowered. He pulled the flintlock from his waist and took aim.

  Tyoo-Rut was within ten feet of the man when he saw him point something towards him. There was a spark, a puff of smoke and a loud sound burst forth from the man’s hand. A searing pain tore through his left shoulder. He stumbled for a moment, but drove on, bringing the spear down and throwing all his weight behind the long shaft.

  Fear flashed in Ivan’s eyes before the spear drove between his ribs and out the other side. He fell back, gasping. His lungs failed him, as he choked on blood that began to bubble up from his mouth.

  There were shouts from the boats as sailors climbed out and began to pick their way between and over the rocks.

  Tyoo-Rut ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder and helped Chukit to her feet. She was shaking in fear, but began to profusely thank him. There were sharp explosions as the sailors fired bullets in their direction. Tyoo-Rut was alarmed and confused by the sounds. From the pain in his shoulder he sensed they were dangerous and pushed Chukit further along, away from the strange men and away from their own people who were watching in shock.

  There was a sharp cry from down by the boats as Cabrillo slipped on a wet boulder and fell, his leg jamming between two sharp rocks and snapping. Several of the sailors scrambled down to help pull their Captain up. They could see right away the leg was badly broken. They would need to get him to the ship doctor immediately.

  They yelled after the other men who by this time had reached Ivan’s body, calling them back to the boats. The men fired a few last aimless shots and gave up on the chase. They picked up Ivan’s limp body and dragged it back to the boats.

  Tyoo-Rut looked back and saw the strange men were retreating and he slowed up. They watched as the men climbed aboard the boats and began to row back to their ships, anchored far out in the harbor. The threat from these strange men was over. But he had disobeyed the chief and shamed their God. This, he knew, would bring grave consequences.

  Going back along the promontory, Chukit retrieved and refastened her skirt. They walked hand in hand back towards where the village chief and several hunters stood waiting for them. Tyoo-Rut was shaking from the adrenaline and blood loss. He could see the dismay on their faces but held his head high, not wanting to disrespect them, but wanting to maintain his honor.

  They stared at him, amazed at his bravery for saving her and foolishness for disobeying his chief. Clearly he was mortally wounded, and by what they couldn’t understand. Blood oozed from a hole in his shoulder, but there was no arrow or spear to identify what had caused the injury. Chukit attempted to wrap some material around it to stop the bleeding, but he gasped and groaned and his face distorted in pain each time she touched the shoulder. The others watching could only assume he had been cursed for his disobedience and dishonoring of Qua-o-ar. No more words were exchanged.

  Tyoo-Rut and Chukit were motioned forward and lead like prisoners along a familiar trail, their fate to be decided by the tribal council and a shaman who could possibly interpret for them what had happened.

  The party traveled on foot for the rest of the day, Tyoo-Rut becoming weaker and weaker as each hour passed. Several times Chukit had to give him a hand up steeper inclines and twice they stopped to rest under a tree. Tyoo-Rut was the fittest hunter and could have made this trip jogging in a couple hours. With his injury and weakened condition, it took all the energy and pride he could muster to keep his legs putting one foot before the other.

  At nightfall they arrived at a site of several large tar pits, where there was a large village. The tar had been being collected by the Indians for many hundreds of years. It was used to caulk canoes, create waterproof seals around homes and seal baskets. It was also used in ceremonies and in creating inlaid shells and stones for ornamentation. At this place they would find the shaman who would interpret the day’s events and decide Tyoo-Rut’s fate, something that was clearly already being determined by other forces.

  Rumors had arrived ahead and a crowd developed to watch Tyoo-Rut and Chukit arrive back to the village with their entourage. Everyone was silent, staring at Tyoo-Rut like they had never seen him before. Where he was once a popular and noble hunter, now he was an anomaly. Rumors and embellished stories were flying about the strangers and their mighty boats. Villagers feared, seeing Tyoo-Rut, that the curse of the strange man with the white skin and beard would return again and the peaceful world they knew would end.

  Chukit brought Tyoo-Rut to her small mud and tar home, laying his body down on a straw mat. He was exhausted and feverish. Her mother and sister deserted the home, afraid of the curse and consequences should they stay there. With hopeless desperation she instinctively gave him water and bathed his forehead and the area where the bullet had entered to try to cool the fever. It was hopeless, she knew. She had seen many other children and young men die from fractured bones and infested wounds. To live beyond twenty would be to exceed the average lifespan.

  She slowly stroked his face and chest, fighting back her grief. She had already thanked him a hundred times that day, but felt she had to do it again. “I wish I could repay you for saving me from that terrible man,” she said after some moments of silence.

  He took her face in his hand and stroked it. “And he is now taking my life,” he replied quietly.

  An idea that had come to her during the long walk back came to her again. “Then let me give you a new life,” she said, staring into his eyes. She didn’t know how to save him, but if a life could be taken from him, she could provide one back, the gift only she as a woman had. It would mean she would lose all honor, be ostracized and likely kicked out of the tribe. There were other tribes up and down the coast though and she felt confident she could rejoin one and restart her life somehow. She contemplated the consequences for a brief moment and dismissed them, pushing them from her mind. She had committed herself to this man in her mind as a young girl, long before the moon’s curse came to her. She knew she would live in misery if she couldn’t have him with her and as he was about to die, she could take something living from him and in that way, keep him alive.

  Tyoo-Rut forced a smile from his grimacing lips, understanding what she meant. The fever and pain was pushed from his mind and he felt a strong stirring inside. With his good arm he helped guide her slowly on top of him and with a muffled gasp, they became one.

  ◊

  Chukit had pulled him from the tent in the middle of the night, half dragging him. They had been lying together, arm in arm, his heart racing wildly from the mixture of fever, pain and pleasure when she decided it was now time to go. She had pulled and dragged him uphill for hours through the night, aided by the light of the moon. As dawn came, she continued to urge him on, deciding she would get him as high as he could go before he lost all consciousness. In this way he would be closer to Qua-o-ar and there would be a greater chance of him joining on with him in his afterlife.

  Tyoo-Rut kept himself moving with her, staggering and wavering, but somehow staying erect. He demonstrated remarkable strength for someone who had lost so much blood and was on the verge of death.

  She had eyed a large oak tree halfway up the mountainside and nearing midday they had reached it. He could go no further and she had no more energy to carry or drag him. From her vantage point she could already see the search party that was following them and estimated they would be there by midday. Tyoo-Rut wouldn’t last till then and she wanted to avoid capture. She had propped Tyoo-Rut up on the roots, kissed him longingly and set off on her own, heading west along the mountainside. She knew about a pass through the mountains that led to other tribes that her village traded with. There she would hope to start a new life.

  Delirious, sweating from fever and all energy drained, Tyoo-Rut lay on his back, resting on the oak tree roots. His heart pounded in his head, crying out to him. He tried to focus his sights upwards at its mangled boughs and branches, stretching out from a trunk that was mighty strong and impervious to anything nature threw at it. His peopl
e venerated the oak tree as the Giver of Life and he felt a calm wash over him from being under it.

  Visions from his life mixed in his mind with images of the tree. He saw himself hunting fish along the coast, Chukit laughing as he chased her up a mountain stream, flames from cooking fires and…the fear in the white man’s eyes and…the sad look and then pleasure in Chukit’s eyes. Images flashed in and out of his mind and then….

  There was silence. A peaceful silence accompanied by an absence of pain or illusion. Exhilaration swept over him as he effortlessly climbed the tree’s trunk and ran down a large bough, his face beaming and his arms stretched out wide.

  The search party followed the clearly made tracks to the tree and saw his blood and sweat on the roots, like he had lain there for a while, unmoving. They searched around, but there were no more tracks. This was where they ended.

  They saw with a calm acceptance that Tyoo-Rut had gone to be with the great oak.