“The Secret of the Strait”
Cabrillo
One afternoon in September, in the year 1542, two broad, clumsy ships,
each with the flag of Spain flying above her many sails, were beating
their way up the coast of southern California. All day the vessels had
been wallowing in the choppy seas, driven about by contrary winds. At
last the prow of the leading ship was turned toward shore, where there
seemed to be an opening that might lead to a good harbor. At the bow
of the ship stood the master of the expedition, the tanned, keen-faced
captain, Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo. He was earnestly watching the land
before him, which was still some distance away.
“Come hither, Juan,” he called to a sturdy lad, about sixteen, who,
with an Indian boy, brought from Mexico as interpreter, was also eagerly
looking landward. “Your eyes should be better than mine. Think you there
is a harbor beyond that point?”
“It surely seems so to me, sir,” answered the boy; “and Pepe, whose
eyes, you know, are keener than ours, says that he can plainly see the
entrance.”
“I trust he is right; for this thickening weather promises a storm, and
a safe harbor would be a gift of God to us weary ones this night,” said
the captain, with a sigh.
Since the fair June day when they had sailed out of the harbor on the
west shore of Mexico, they had been following first up the coast line of
the Peninsula, then of Upper California. No maps or charts of the region
showing where lay good harbors or dangerous rocks, could be found in
Cabrillo’s cabin. Instead, there were maps of this South Sea which
pictured terrible dangers for mariners--great whirlpools which could
suck down whole fleets of vessels, and immense waterfalls, where it was
thought the whole ocean poured off the end of the land into space. A
brave man was Captain Cabrillo, for, half believing these stories, he
yet sailed steadily on, determined, no matter what happened to himself,
to do his duty to the king under whose flag he sailed, and to the
viceroy of Mexico, whose funds had furnished the expedition.
California has ever been noted for its brave men, but none have been
more courageous than this explorer, who was probably the first white
man to set his foot upon its soil. As the ship approached land the crew
became silent, every eye being turned anxiously to the opening of the
passage which appeared before them. The vessel, driven by the stiff
breeze, rushed on, almost touching the rock at one point. Then, caught
by a favorable current, it swept into mid-channel, where it moved
rapidly forward, until at length it rode safely in the harbor now known
as San Diego Bay.
“It is a good port and well inclosed,” said Juan Cabrillo, with great
satisfaction, gazing out upon the broad sheet of quiet water. “We
will name it for our good San Miguel, to whom our prayers for a safe
anchorage were offered this morning.” Then, when the two ships were
riding at anchor, the commander ordered out the boats.
“We will see what kind of people these are, dodging behind the bushes
yonder,” said he. As the Spaniards drew near shore they could see many
fleeing figures.
“What a pity they are so afraid,” said Cabrillo. “If we are to learn
anything of the country, we must teach them that we mean them no harm.”
“Master,” said Pepe, “there are three of them hiding behind those
bushes.”
“Is it so, lad? Then go you up to them. They will not fear you.” So the
Indian boy walked slowly forward, holding out his hands with his palms
upward, which not only let the natives see that he was unarmed, but in
the sign language meant peace and friendship. As he drew near to them an
old man and two younger ones, dressed in scanty shirts of rabbit-skins,
came from their hiding places and began to talk to Pepe, but, though
they also were Indians, they did not speak his language. Some of their
words were evidently similar to his, and by these and the help of signs
he partly understood what they said. Presently he returned to the group
on shore.
“They say there are Spaniards back in the country a few days’ journey
from here.”
“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 ships went on shore 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 ship. 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 ships 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 ship. 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 shore, yet our ship 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
shore 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 passage from the North Sea [Atlantic] to
the South Sea [Pacific], by which ships may speedily reach India. This
passage 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 noble Cortez to discover the strait. Our captain is
the next to take up the search, and may God 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 friendship 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 ships anchored off a thickly settled valley, where the
town of Ventura now lies. Here, on October 12, 1542, Cabrillo and his
company went on shore 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. Pushing 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 ship, which was without a deck. Here
occurred a most unhappy accident. Something about the ship, 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 ships
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
inshore and kept much of the time on deck looking for some signs of a
river or passage. 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 shore, 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 40¼. But this winter voyage was made at a great
sacrifice. The exposure and hardships, following the wound he had
received, were too much for even the hardy sailor Juan Rodriguez
Cabrillo. After weeks of struggle with storms, the ships 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. Nobly 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 assistant,
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.”
“Always looking for the strait, Ferrelo?”
“Always, senor.”
On the 3d of January, 1543, the brave man died and was buried in the
sands of Cuyler Harbor on San Miguel Island. His men called the island
Juan Rodriguez. This name was afterwards dropped, but California should
see to it that the island is rechristened in honor of the great sailor
who sleeps there.
Ferrelo later succeeded in sailing as far north as Cape Mendocino and
perhaps as far as 42¡, but, though he kept as close to the shore as
possible, he failed to discover the great bay whose waters, spreading
like a sheet of silver over sixty miles of country, lay hidden just
behind the Golden Gate. Near the Oregon line he was driven back by
storms, and returned to Mexico, where he published a full account of the
voyage.
Drake
In the town of Offenburg, Germany, there is a statue of a man standing
on the deck of a ship, leaning against an anchor, his right hand
grasping a map of America, his left, a cluster of bulbous roots. On
the pedestal is the inscription, “Sir Francis Drake, the introducer of
potatoes into Europe in the year of our Lord 1586.”
While it is doubtful whether this honor really belongs to Drake, an
Englishman, seeing the statue, would be inclined to say, “Is this all
that Germany has to tell of the great captain who led our navy against
the Spanish Armada; the first Englishman to sail around the world;
the most daring explorer, clever naval commander, expert seaman, brave
soldier, loyal friend, and gallant enemy of his time?” A Spaniard, on
the contrary, might well exclaim, “Why did Germany erect a statue to
this terrible man whom our poets call Dragontea [Dragon], this greatest
of all pirates, this terror of the sea?” All this, and more, might be
said of one man, who began life as a ship’s boy.
At the time Drake first went to sea, England and Spain were by no means
friendly. Henry the Eighth of England had ill-treated his wife, who was
a Spanish princess. In addition he had drawn the English people away
from the Church of Rome. These things were most displeasing to Spain,
but there was still another reason for disagreement. The interests
of the two countries were opposed commercially, and this was the most
important cause of contention.
Spain claimed by right of discovery, and gift of the Pope of Rome, all
the land in the new world except Brazil (which belonged to Portugal),
and held that no explorers or tradesmen, other than her own, had any
rights on her waters or in her ports. English seamen denied much of this
claim, and so frequent were the disputes arising upon the subject that
the English sailors adopted as a maxim, “No peace beyond the line,”
meaning the line which was, by the Pope’s decree, the eastern boundary
of the Spanish claim.
The favorite prey of the British mariners was the treasure ships
carrying to Spain the precious cargoes of gold and silver from the rich
mines of the new world. With the far richer ships of the Philippine and
Indian trade, sailing on unknown waters, they had not, up to Drake’s
time, been able to interfere.
Drake, when a very young man, had joined a trading expedition to Mexico.
While there the English were attacked by the Spanish in what the former
considered a most treacherous manner. Drake’s brother and many of
his comrades were killed, and their goods taken. After the battle he
solemnly vowed to be revenged, and so thoroughly did he carry out his
resolution that he was for years the terror of the Spanish seamen,
and, by many of the superstitious common sailors, believed to be Satan
himself come to earth in human form.
Shortly after this unfortunate expedition Drake engaged in a marauding
voyage to Panama, where he captured rich stores of gold and silver and
precious stones. He gained such renown for his bravery and seamanship
that upon coming home he found himself famous.
Queen Elizabeth knew that Spain was opposed to her and her religion, and
was not in her heart displeased when her brave seamen got the better of
their Spanish rivals. She received Drake privately, and help was offered
him secretly from people who stood high in the government. With this
encouragement he resolved to embark on a most hazardous and daring
adventure. While in Panama he had seen, from a “high and goodlie tree”
on a mountain side, the great Pacific, and was immediately filled with
a desire to sail on its waters and explore its shores. He therefore
determined to cross the Atlantic, pass through the Strait of Magellan,
up the Pacific, and to plunder the Spanish towns along the coast of
South and Central America, until he should reach the region traversed by
the richly laden Spanish ships coming from India and the Philippines. It
is said that the queen herself put a thousand crowns into this venture.
One thing is certain, that he received sufficient help to fit out five
small vessels, with one hundred and sixty-four men. With these he sailed
from Falmouth, England, in December of 1577. With the exception of
perhaps one or two of the rich men who had helped him, no one, not even
his men, knew of his plans.
After a long and interesting voyage in which one vessel was lost and the
others, though he did not know it, had deserted him, he found himself
with but one ship beating his way up the coast of Lower California. This
was his flagship Pelican, which he had rechristened the Golden Hind.
It was then so laden with rich booty, that it was like a hawk which
had stolen too heavy a chicken, driven this way and that by the winds,
scarcely able to reach its nest.
In addition to a good store of Chile wines and foods of various kinds,
there were packed away in the hold of the Golden Hind, twenty-five
thousand pesos of gold, eight thousand pounds of English money, and a
great cross of gold with “emeralds near as large as a man’s finger.”
From one vessel Drake had taken one hundred-weight of silver; from a
messenger of the mines, who was sleeping beside a spring on the Peruvian
coast, thirteen bars of solid silver; off the backs of a train of little
gray llamas, the camels of the Andes, eight hundred pounds of silver;
and besides all these were large quantities of gold and silver that
were not recorded in the ship’s list, and stores of pearls, diamonds,
emeralds, silks, and porcelain.
The last prize taken was the Spanish treasure ship Cacafuegos. Drake had
transferred its cargo and crew to his own vessel and, for a time, manned
it with some of his men. Its noble commander, St. John de Anton, who
had been wounded in the attack, received every possible attention on
the English vessel, and in the report which he afterwards made to
the viceroy of Mexico, he told of the perfect order and discipline
maintained on the Golden Hind, and of the luxury which surrounded its
commander, who was treated with great reverence by his men.
Before sailing on to the northward, Drake restored St. John and his crew
to their vessel. Then, because he feared that they might fall into the
hands of his fleet (having no suspicion that the other captains had
returned home), he gave the Spaniards the following letter, which shows
the great Englishman to have been more honorable than he is oftentimes
represented:--
“To Master Weinter and the Masters of the Other Ships of my Fleet:
“If it pleaseth God that you should chance to meet with this ship of
St. John de Anton, I pray you use him well according to my promise given
him. If you want to use anything that is in the ship, I pray you pay him
double value for it, which I will satisfy again. And command your men
not to do any harm and what agreement we have made, at my return unto
England, I will, by God’s help, perform, although I am in doubt that
this letter will ever come to your hand, notwithstanding I am the man I
have promised to be.
“Beseeching God, the Saviour of the world, to have us all in his
keeping, to whom I give all honor, praise, and glory,
“Your sorrowful captain, whose heart is heavy for you,
“Francis Drake.”
How to get home was the problem which this daring man had now to solve.
There was no possibility of returning by the way he had come. He well
knew that the news of his departure had reached Spain, and that her war
ships would be waiting for him, not only at the eastern entrance of the
Strait of Magellan, but at the Isthmus and in the Caribbean Sea.
If by sailing northward he could find the Strait of Anian, then his
homeward journey would be safe and short; but if he could not find that
illusive body of water, then there was left to him but the Pacific for
a highway. However, this did not daunt him, as he felt that what the
Portuguese Magellan had done, Drake the Englishman could do.
Keeping well out from shore, the Golden Hind now sailed northward for
nearly two months. Drake passed just west of the Farallon Islands, never
dreaming of the great harbor which lay so short a distance on the other
side. He traveled as far north as latitude 42¡ or possibly 43¡, and
perhaps he even landed at one point, but he failed to find the strait.
According to Fletcher, the priest of the Church of England who kept a
journal of the expedition, they were finally forced by the extreme cold
to turn southward. “Here,” says Fletcher, “it pleased God on this
17th day of June, 1579, to send us, in latitude 38¡, a convenient fit
harbor.” This is now supposed to be Drakes Bay, which lies thirty miles
northwest of San Francisco, in Marin county.
“In this bay we anchored, and the people of the country having their
houses close to the waterside showed themselves unto us and sent
presents to our general. He, in return, courteously treated them and
liberally bestowed upon them things necessary to cover their nakedness.
“Their houses are digged around about with earth and have for the brim
of that circle, clefts of wood set upon the ground and joined closely
together at the top like the spire of a steeple, which by reason of this
closeness are very warm. The men go naked, but the women make themselves
loose garments knit about the middle, while over their shoulders they
wear the skin of a deer.”
These people brought presents and seemed to want to offer sacrifices to
the strangers as gods, but Drake, hastily calling his men together,
held divine services, “To which, especially the prayers and music,” says
Fletcher, “they were most attentive and seemed to be greatly affected.”
The Bible used by Drake in this service is still to be seen in Nut Hall
House, Devonshire, England.
Presently a messenger came, saying that the king wished to visit them
if they would assure him of their peaceful intentions. Drake sent him
presents, then marched his force into a kind of fort he had had made in
which to place such parts of the cargo as it was necessary to remove in
order to careen the ship for repairing. The coming of the chief is thus
described:--
“He came in princely majesty. In the fore-front was a man of goodly
personage who bore the scepter whereon was hung two crowns with chains
of marvelous length. The crowns were made of knit-work wrought with
feathers of divers colors, the chains being made of bony substances.
“Next came the king with his guard, all well clothed in connie skins,
then the naked common people with faces painted, each bearing some
presents. After ceremonies consisting of speeches and dances, they
offered one of the crowns to Drake, who, accepting in the name of
Elizabeth, allowed it to be placed on his head.”
While the men were busy cleaning and repairing the ship, the commander
and his officers made excursions into the interior, visiting many Indian
towns and passing through wide plains where vast herds of deer, often
one thousand or more, all large and fat, were feeding on the rich
grasses. They also saw great numbers of what they called connies, which,
from their description, must have been ground squirrels, or else some
variety of animal now extinct. The country Drake named New Albion,
partly from its white cliffs, which resembled those of his native land,
and partly in belief that it would be easier to lay claim to the country
if it bore one of the names applied to England.
“When the time came for our departure,” continued Fletcher in his
journal, “our general set up a monument of our being here, so also, of
her majesty’s right and title to the land: namely a plate nailed upon
a fair great post, whereon was engraved her majesty’s name, the day and
year of our arrival, with the giving up of the province and people into
her majesty’s hands, together with her highness’ picture and arms in a
sixpence under the plate, whereunder was also written the name of our
general.”
Fletcher seemed not to know of Cabrillo’s voyage, for he claimed that no
one had ever discovered land in this region, or for many degrees to the
south; while in fact Ferrelo with Cabrillo’s ships had sailed as far
north as latitude 42¡, although we have no reason to think that he
landed in a higher latitude than that of Point Conception and San Miguel
Island.
Once again solemn religious services were held by the Englishmen on the
hospitable soil that had been their home for over a month. Then they
went on board the ship, accompanied to the shore by the grieving
Indians, who would not be comforted when they saw their new friends
forsaking them. It was near the last of July in 1579 that Captain Drake
with his brave men began his wonderful homeward voyage.
It was a triumphant return they made in September, a year later. Crowds
flocked to see the famous ship and its gallant commander.
Some of the queen’s statesmen strongly disapproved of Drake’s attack
upon Spanish towns and vessels, and felt he should be arrested and tried
for piracy; but the common people cheered him wherever he went, and as a
crowning honor, in the luxurious cabin of his good ship Golden Hind, he
was visited by the great Elizabeth herself. When the banquet was over,
at the queen’s command, he bent his knee before her, and this sovereign,
who, though a woman, dearly loved such courage and daring as he had
displayed, tapped him on the shoulder and bade him arise “Sir Francis
Drake.”
Galli and Carmenon
In 1584 Francisco Galli, commanding a Philippine ship, returning to
Mexico by way of Japan, sighted the coast of California in latitude 37¡
30’. He saw, as he reported, “a high and fair land with no snow and many
trees, and in the sea, drifts of roots, reeds, and leaves.” Some of the
latter he gathered and cooked with meat for his men, who were no doubt
suffering from scurvy.
Galli wrote of the point where he first saw the coast as Cape Mendocino,
which would seem to imply that the point had been discovered and named
at some previous time, of which, however, there is no record.
In 1595 Sebastian Carmenon, commanding the ship San Agustin, coming from
the Philippines, was given royal orders to make some explorations on
the coast of California, probably to find a suitable harbor for Manila
vessels. In doing so he was so unfortunate as to run his vessel ashore
behind Point Reyes, and to lighten her was obliged to leave behind a
portion of his cargo, consisting of wax and silks in boxes. There
is only the briefest record of this voyage, and no report of any
discoveries.
Vizcaino
Almost sixty years after the voyage of Cabrillo, came a royal order from
the king of Spain to the viceroy of Mexico which, translated from the
Spanish, ran something like this:--
“Go, search the northern coast of the Californias, until you find a good
and sufficient harbor wherein my Manila galleons may anchor safe and
protected, and where may be founded a town that my scurvy-stricken
sailors may find the fresh food necessary for their relief. Furthermore,
spare no expense.”
The destruction of Spanish shipping by Drake and other English seamen
who followed his example, had caused great anxiety to the Spaniards and
was partly the reason for this order.
“Send for Don Sebastian,” said the viceroy. “He is a brave gentleman and
good sailor. He shall carry out the order of the king.” But it took time
to fit out such an expedition, and it was not until an afternoon in
May, 1602, that Don Sebastian Vizcaino, on his flagship, the San Diego,
sailed out of the harbor of Acapulco into the broad Pacific. Closely
following him were his other ships, the San Thomas and Tres Reyes.
There had been solemn services at the cathedral that afternoon. Officers
and men had taken of the holy communion; and now their wives and
children stood on the island at the entrance of the harbor, watching the
white sails as they grew fainter and fainter and at last disappeared in
the haze of the coming night.
Then the watchers returned to their lonely homes with heavy hearts,
for in those days few came back who sailed out on the great South Sea.
Storms, battles with the natives, and scurvy made sad havoc among the
sailors.
Early in November Vizcaino entered “a famous port,” which he named San
Diego, finding it, as Padre Ascension’s journal says, “beautiful and
very grand, and all parts of it very convenient shelter from the winds.”
After leaving San Diego, the next anchoring place was the island named
by Vizcaino for Santa Catalina, on whose feast day his ships entered the
pretty little harbor of Avalon.
The Spaniards were greatly pleased with the island and also with the
people, whom they described as being a large-figured, light-complexioned
race; all, men, women, and children, being well clothed in sealskins.
They had large dwellings, many towns, and fine canoes. What struck Padre
Ascension most strongly was their temple, of which he says: “There was
in the temple a large level court, and about this a circle surrounded
by feather work of different colors taken from various birds which I
understand had been sacrificed to their idols. Within this circle was
the figure of a demon painted in color after the manner of the Indians
of New Spain. On its sides were figures of the sun and moon.
“It so fell out that when our soldiers came up from the ships to view
the temple, there were in the circle two immense ravens, far larger than
ordinary. When the men arrived, they flew away to some rocks that were
near by, and the soldiers seeing how large they were, raised their
arquebuses and killed them both. Then did the Indians begin to weep and
make great lamentation. I understand that the devil was accustomed
to speak to them, through these birds, for which they showed great
respect.”
There were in the island quantities of edible roots of a variety of the
yucca called gicamas, and many little bulbs which the Spanish called
“papas pequenos” (little potatoes). These, the padre said, the Indians
took in their canoes over to the mainland, thus making their living by
barter. This certainly must have been the beginning of commerce on the
coast.
Vizcaino entered and named the Bay of San Pedro. To the channel islands
he also gave the names which they now bear. Sailing on, he discovered
a river which he named “Carmelo,” in honor of the Carmelite friars who
accompanied him. The same day the fleet rounded the long cape called
“Point Pinos” and came to anchor in the bay formed by its projection.
From here the San Tomas was sent to Mexico to carry the sick, of whom
there were many, and to bring back fresh supplies. The men who remained
were at once set to work. Some supplied the two ships with wood and
water; others built a chapel of brush near the beach, under a large oak
at the roots of which flowed a spring of delicious water. In this chapel
mass was said and the Te Deum chanted. For over one hundred and fifty
years this oak was known, both in New Spain and at the court of the
king, as the “Oak of Vizcaino, in the Bay of Monterey.” From here
Vizcaino wrote to the king of Spain as follows:--
“Among the ports of greater consideration which I have discovered is
one in 30¡ north latitude which I called Monterey, as I wrote to your
majesty in December. It is all that can be desired for commodiousness
and as a station for ships making the voyage from the Philippines,
sailing whence they make a landfall on this coast. It is sheltered from
all winds and in the immediate vicinity are pines from which masts of
any desired size could be obtained, as well as live oak, white oak, and
other woods. There is a variety of game, great and small. The land has
a genial climate and the waters are good. It is thickly settled by a
people whom I find to be of gentle disposition, and whom I believe can
be brought within the fold of the Holy Gospel and subjugation to your
majesty.”
This enthusiastic praise of the harbor of Monterey by a man who was
familiar with the port of San Diego, caused much trouble later, as will
be seen in the study of the founding of the missions.
Not waiting for the return of the San Tomas, Vizcaino with his two ships
soon sailed northward, and reached a point in about latitude 42¡, which
was probably the northern limit reached by Cabrillo’s ships and only a
little lower than the farthest explorations of Drake. Although Vizcaino
was looking for harbors, he yet passed twice outside the Bay of San
Francisco, the finest on the coast, without discovering it. After his
return to Mexico, Vizcaino endeavored to raise an expedition to found
a settlement at Monterey, even going to Spain to press the matter; but
other schemes were demanding the king’s attention, and he would
give neither thought nor money to affairs in the new world; and so,
thoroughly disheartened Vizcaino returned to Mexico.
From this time for over one hundred and fifty years there is no record
of explorations along this coast, either by vessels from Mexico or by
those coming from the Philippines. California seemed again forgotten.
This is the story of the few voyages made to the coast of California
previous to its settlement. The first, under Cabrillo, was sent out by
the viceroy Mendoza, who hoped to gain fame and riches by the discovery
of the Strait of Anian, and by finding wealthy countries and cities
which were supposed to exist in the great northwest, about which much
was imagined but nothing known.
Drake planned his voyage largely in pursuit of his revenge upon Spain,
partly for the plunder which he hoped to obtain from the Spanish towns
and vessels along the Pacific coast of America, and partly because of
his desire to explore the Pacific Ocean.
Vizcaino also was expected to search for the strait, but he was
especially sent out to find a good harbor and place for settlement
on the California coast. This was intended in a great measure for the
benefit of the Philippine trade, but also to aid in holding the country
for Spain.