This was not the first time Cabrillo had heard of a mother of twins being considered the victim of a curse. Perhaps such superstitions had arisen during years of starvation. Even in times of plenty the islanders knew their prosperity could change greatly within a few seasons, so the superstition persisted. But the precautionary measure for survival was merciless and wrong. He let his eyes meet those of the young mother. She and her children undoubtedly lived in harsh ostracism. An idea started to form, and he grew more certain of his next move as it firmly took hold. Here was a case by which his faith could bless these people while peace was maintained.
“Matipuyaut,” he said earnestly, “our God is all good and all knowing. He can take away such curses. He can make every child holy, even these children.” Matipuyaut attended to his signs with thoughtful vigilance, so Cabrillo went on. “I am happy to choose this woman to serve me. We will teach her the ways of our God. He will wash the curse away from her, and her children, and your people.”
This was followed by quiet hopeful gasping from the other women, muttering amongst the warriors, and speculative silence from Matipuyaut. Kipomo shifted impatiently and seemed on the brink of speaking, when Matipuyaut said with genuine concern, “Chief Cabrillo, your words are powerful, but there is more you must know. This woman is not only unholy, she is also disobedient. Our customs allow widows to marry only widowers, and there have been three such men who have come for her. Even with the curse she carries they were willing to take her as a wife, but she refused them all.”
To the astonishment of everyone in the room the woman stepped forward, eyeing Cabrillo intensely, and said, “I will not refuse this man.”
The quiet, courageous assertiveness of her words and delivery impressed Cabrillo greatly. In the gaze she held unwaveringly upon him, he sensed a plea to protect her children, and in return she offered anything, everything he might ask. As he again took in her exposed beauty, Cabrillo knew he might have asked much if their circumstances had been different.
Matipuyaut glanced at Kipomo, each of his elder sons, and then at the rest of his audience to assess their reactions before saying, “You may take her, Cabrillo. If your god can remove the darkness from her spirit it will do much good. If she does not please you, the others will.”
Cabrillo said, “While she is in my care Father Lezcano will also watch over her and teach her the ways of our faith.” He hoped his priest’s involvement would not only help the woman but also quell the envy of his crews by providing her with a chaperone. It appeared that Father Lezcano sensed his motives when he gave an approving nod, and Cabrillo went on. “She will then teach what she learns to the rest of her people. At dawn we will come to the beach and place this island under the protection of our earthly and heavenly kings. We will mark it with a symbol of the son of our God so that all here may come to honor and love his goodness. Father Lezcano and Father Gamboa will ask our Mighty God to bless this woman and her children.”
Matipuyaut took all of this in with an expression of apprehensive hopefulness, evidently willing to ignore the disapproval of his shaman. When Cabrillo had finished, the chief asked in confirmation, “Then, you wish only her to care for you?”
“Only her.”
Looking next at Manuel and perhaps recalling the stories that had reached him from the mainland, he asked, “Do you need women for any of your men?”
Cabrillo cut the hopes of his sailors by repeating with finality, “Only her. We will stay just until the wind changes, and my men have much work to do. The land we seek is far across the sea. We must reach it before the cold season comes.”
“We will watch for you when the sun awakens,” said Matipuyaut. “I wish to learn more of your God and your journey.” With a slight hesitation, he added, “Chief Cabrillo, I have heard the strange sounds from your ships. I have also heard that your people ride on the back of a great beast. Do you have such beasts with you?”
“Yes, Matipuyaut. They are called horses.”
“Horses. Would these horses be harmful to us?”
“They are trained to obey their masters, and if we are with them they will harm no one who is gentle.”
“I wish to see these creatures. Will you bring horses tomorrow?”
Subtly sweeping his gaze over the warriors, he found looks of distrust on several faces, yet they seemed willing to follow Matipuyaut’s commands. If all went well in the morning, this would be a welcome solution to Cabrillo’s ever-present concern over the confinement of his horses. Cabrillo decided to risk landing them under the watchful eyes of his men. “We will bring horses ashore. We will also bring more goods to trade.”
“Good!”
“Now, Matipuyaut, we must return to our ships.”
The chief rose with the captain-general and his companions. At Cabrillo’s signal, Vargas led the men outside and onto the path that would return them to the beach. Cabrillo and Father Lezcano followed them to the entrance but paused before the young woman newly placed under their care. Remembering that the Chumash were hesitant to use their proper names except under very private or official circumstances, Cabrillo asked her only, “What are you called?”
She placed a hand on the abalone birds that decorated the valley between her breasts, and said, “Tasin Taya.” Although uncertain whether the sound referred to the abalone or the birds, Cabrillo plainly understood the hope and gratitude that had been expressed with the word. He wondered if everything spoken by the mouth and body of this young female held meaning beyond what was necessary for mere communication. There was something here, something complex, exquisite, and compelling that would have been difficult to mask if she had tried, and she made no attempt to conceal anything from his scrutiny.
Sensing the silent interplay between the woman and his commander, Father Lezcano stepped close to Taya and placed his palms upon the top of her head. She lowered her chin as he quietly prayed, “Heavenly Father, please watch over this girl and keep her from harm. Help her become a blessing and a light among these islanders.”
When his hands were drawn away and the woman looked up, her eyes sought and found only Cabrillo. With an effort beyond what he would have comfortably admitted, the captain-general left her and soon joined his men as they marched back toward the waiting boats.
The rowers held their tongues to an unusual stillness as they pulled toward the San Salvador, and their hush was severe enough to keep Cabrillo and Father Lezcano from discussing many plans for the ceremony to be held the next day. One telling exception occurred when one of the younger men asked a little too hopefully, “Do you think this wind will hold, Captain-General?”
“We must pray it does not. Our need to reach Asia grows more pressing every day.”
With this, the silence of the men became complete.
Chapter 17
CHRISTENING
“Father Lezcano, you look as anxious as I am to get the horses ashore.”
The young priest grinned as he said, “Why would I not be, sir, with your promise to let me ride?” He stood at Viento’s head scratching the restless stallion’s lower jaw.
“Not until after the baptismal ceremony, remember. And, though all looks calm enough, you might ask God to protect them while within reach of the islanders.” Cabrillo gave a parting wave as he threw his leg over the railing and boarded one of the two launches that would deliver Viento and Seguro to the beach. The two male horses were being landed before the mares since they had been trained in the art of war and could better protect themselves if the need arose.
He’d already taken the precaution of visiting Matipuyaut at first light to check the mood of the natives. Since no trouble seemed to be brewing, with only a small contingent he’d had a wooden cross constructed and planted and hastily claimed the island, naming it Posesión but intending to find a more unique name in the days to come. He’d then left Vargas and an attachment of soldiers ashore to await his return with the horses.
As if Viento understood that the landing would be ha
stened by his cooperation, he quieted when the canvas sling was brought under his belly and lifted up his sides. His handlers attached the looped lines of the sling to a connecting line hanging from the cross arm and then carefully swung him up and out over the sea. Cabrillo stood in the bow of a launch and Manuel in the other, each holding one of Viento’s long lead lines as the stallion was lowered into the water. His legs began churning before his body was fully buoyant, and the sling was quickly eased free. Encouraged by Cabrillo’s voice and bracketed by the pair of launches, Viento swam with powerful strokes through the waving water, lessening the stiffness of his muscles before needing to use them on land. The captain-general’s pride swelled at the lack of fear in his great stud as he swam with nostrils flared and ears high, straight toward the sand dune.
Cabrillo and Manuel leaped from the boats and aided Viento out of the waves. To loud exclamations from the Chumash, Viento trotted onto dry sand shaking his head and snorting with gusto. As the captain-general replaced the transport halter with a bridle, he noted that very few natives carried weapons and that their expressions held utter astonishment rather than hostility. Most promising of all, women and children were beginning to trail down the path from the plateau above to the shore. Many of the women turned uneasy eyes toward their leader and shielded their smaller children with their bodies, but Kipomo reassured them by his complete enthrallment with Viento’s movements and personality.
Cabrillo handed the reins to Manuel and carefully examined his stud’s legs and hooves. Finding them sound, and with Viento impatiently tossing his head and flinging water from his long mane, Cabrillo retook the reins as he stole another glance at the islanders. They were keeping their distance. So with growing pleasure Cabrillo slowly walked his stallion up and down a small stretch of beach as his men rowed back to the San Salvador for Seguro. The equestrian landings from La Victoria were to begin at Cabrillo’s command, but he wanted to weigh the islanders’ reactions a little longer before issuing that order.
He spoke softly to his horse as they paced along the sand, and often Viento nickered lowly in response. Patting the sleek neck, Cabrillo said, “There are many watching today. We must be on our best behavior, eh?” After several short trips he stopped in the sand, and when Viento nudged his back Cabrillo faced him with a quiet laugh. “I know what you want, but you must regain your land legs gradually.” Viento nosed his master’s chest, huffed, and pawed the sand. Cabrillo could not hide his grin. “Very well, but only for a very short distance, and no faster than a walk.”
He brought the reins to the top of Viento’s withers, threw his right leg over his back, and sat tall and commanding upon the prancing horse. An excited hum arose from the Indians that only encouraged Viento’s restlessness, but Cabrillo kept his stud in place to let his muscles adjust a little longer.
Before the snorting mount and his seemingly supernatural rider, some of the Chumash withdrew a few steps. Most, however, began to inch closer. Having committed to keeping his people at a safe distance, Matipuyaut halted them with a commanding motion.
Cabrillo patted his stallion, bent down low over his neck and whispered, “Well, Viento, are you ready?”
No more than his master’s measured tone was needed to set Viento in high-stepping motion but Cabrillo restrained him from surging forward. Commanded by the captain-general’s strong hands and legs to maintain a deliberate stroll, Viento cow-hopped to test the firmness of his resolve and then obeyed. Up and back he paraded, with the joy in his master’s company, this fresh open space, and even so gentle an exertion reflected over every dappled-gray inch of him. Approaching the crowd for the second time, Cabrillo brought him to a halt seven yards in front of Matipuyaut, whose wonder seemed to have taken years of responsibility from his shoulders. He shouted, “Fine horse! Mighty horse!” which incited cries of approval from all around.
Cabrillo let his eyes skim the cheering islanders, and he spotted Taya standing slightly apart from the rest with two small boys at her sides. He noticed that neither she nor her sons, young as they were, displayed any fear. Their faces revealed only awe and admiration.
When Cabrillo leaped down, patted Viento, and led him to Matipuyaut, the chief found the courage to stand his ground even when his sons took a step or two back. Cabrillo halted and said, “This is my horse, Matipuyaut. He is called Viento.”
The chief nodded gravely. “Viento, fine horse.”
Cabrillo ran a soothing hand over his horse’s neck as he beckoned Matipuyaut closer. The chief approached to within inches of Viento as his people looked on with varying degrees of apprehension.
“You may touch him,” Cabrillo signed.
With eagerness and hesitation battling for dominance, Matipuyaut asked, “Will your god be offended?”
“Our God will smile.” And so did Cabrillo.
This was sufficient encouragement. Matipuyaut reached out, his eyes locked on Viento’s, and gently touched the velvety nose of the great stud. His face lightened at the extraordinary newness of this bonding with an animal so enormous and strange, and he muttered a very soft, “Ahhh!” As if trained for such a moment, Viento whickered a deep response that Matipuyaut appeared to understand.
Unfortunately the horse’s mild response drew an excited howl from the crowd, and this snapped his head up and set him to prancing again. It took a little more quieting from Cabrillo before Matipuyaut tried to communicate with his horse once again. When he did, Viento shifted his feet and sniffed at the slightly familiar hand, and then allowed the chief stroke him from forelock to muzzle.
When Cabrillo felt that the time had come, he asked Matipuyaut by hand signals, “Would you like to sit on him?”
This question provoked another round of murmuring from the natives, and Matipuyaut took an instant to muster a fresh level of bravery before accepting the invitation.
Glancing skyward and offering a silent prayer to all the saints for Matipuyaut’s protection, Cabrillo held Viento’s bridle and ordered Manuel to form a makeshift stirrup with his hands. The chief placed his foot within the locked fingers, pushed upward, and lifted his right leg over Viento’s back as he had seen Cabrillo do. With his master still standing at his head, Viento took only a step or two as he adjusted to the stranger on his back.
At first Matipuyaut sat low and tense with his eyes locked on the back of Viento’s head, yet he accepted with impressive quickness this completely foreign sensation of having a twelve hundred pound animal shifting between his legs. He straightened slowly and looked around from this new vantage point. Cabrillo showed him how to take Viento’s mane in his hands, then led his horse forward several strides. As soon as they stopped Matipuyaut motioned his head forward in an obvious request to go farther. Inwardly smiling, the captain-general set off down the beach. The chief clung to the mane, his eyes and teeth gleaming as he punctuated the ride with short outbursts of, “Ayee, ayee.”
When they returned at last Matipuyaut bent down and said something to Viento that Cabrillo had no means of comprehending, but the soft, respectful manner in which the chief smoothed his hands over Viento’s neck expressed both gratitude and respect. Matipuyaut gazed at Cabrillo, his face betraying that he would have liked his ride to be extended even longer, but he did not ask, and the captain-general chose not to tempt either fate or Viento’s tolerance further. Dismounting, Matipuyaut said and signed with emphasis, “He is a friend of high value, Chief Cabrillo. One day horses will be the friends of my people also.”
Perhaps so, thought Cabrillo, watching the earnestness of the chief, and he suddenly apprehended that Matipuyaut was voicing some kind of prophetic vision rather than a wish. Yet there was no indication of threat or warning in what the chief had said, so Cabrillo brushed aside his sensation as foolishness. His horses were safe, and men couldn’t see beyond today.
By now Seguro had reached shore, and Cabrillo soon gave the order to land the mares as well. At low tide they and Viento would be taken slightly northwest to makeshift corrals at
a curve in the rocky embankment where both grooms and soldiers would assure their safekeeping. Any further Chumash and equine interaction would have to wait until after the baptismal ceremonies.
The island men, women, and children followed the sailors as they climbed up and gathered around the knoll near the head of the sand dune. This was where Cabrillo’s men had set the five-foot cross and where they had already performed the quiet and sparsely attended claiming ceremony. Now, the mound was as crowded as an anthill, and the wind could reach them with enough force to toss their hair and clothing and carry away their voices.
When all were ready Father Gamboa, with Father Lezcano by his side, called Taya forward. She came with each of her hands tightly gripped by an identically handsome three-year-old. Standing before them, she studied the two priests and the wooden cross.
In a loud, rich voice Father Gamboa said as Father Lezcano signed, “Today, this woman will become a child of our most holy God. He is a loving father, who gave his son to the world so that we could learn how to turn from ways that harm others, so we could better love our brothers and sisters. He gave us his Holy Spirit to help us find the strength to do what is good, so that all of us may one day live in his holy kingdom in heaven above.” At these words many of the Chumash followed his uplifted arms and face and glanced speculatively skyward.
Father Gamboa bent down and drew the largest of three linen drapes from the top of a wooden box brought from the ship. He wrapped the cloth around Taya’s shoulders and signed for her to tie it closed over her chest. The two boys were then cloaked just as their mother. He took a small bottle from inside the chest, held it up, and performed the rite as he described, “This is holy oil. With it I trace the sign of the cross of Jesus upon this woman, and now her sons. It will forever be a symbol of their new life as children of God.” Next he picked up a pitcher of water, and Father Lezcano gestured for Taya to kneel down and bend her head forward. When she had obeyed Father Gamboa continued, quietly reciting the prescribed prayers, and then addressing the gathering in a compassionate voice as he placed a gentle hand on Taya’s shoulder and poured a trickle of water over the front of her bowed head. “This woman will now be blessed by the waters of baptism in the name of our Heavenly Father, and of his Son, Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Spirit. This water, touched by God’s grace, will rinse away any evil that has ever touched this woman. It will make her clean. In Christ’s name, she will henceforth be known as Sarah.”
Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon Page 24
