History has preserved only dim outlines of the remarkable career of Juan
Rodríguez Cabrillo, who died in 1543 while attempting to complete the
first exploration of California’s coastline. Though he is generally
supposed to have been Portuguese, the evidence is too scanty to be
sure.[5] There is no firm agreement about the cause or place of his
death. He is variously reported to have used two, three, and even four
vessels on his great exploration. Even his name has invited speculation.
It appears on the few surviving documents he signed in the abbreviated
form _Juan Rodz_. (The Portuguese spelling would normally end in “s,”
the Spanish in “z.”) What then of _Cabrillo_, which means “little goat”?
Was it an affectionate nickname that he liked and used informally to
distinguish himself from numerous other Juan Rodríguezes, a name as
common in Hispanic countries as John Smith is in English-speaking
regions? In any event he should be known formally as Juan Rodríguez. The
name Cabrillo is, however, so firmly fixed in California history that it
will be used in this account.
Whatever his name and origin, Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo learned seafaring
in his youth. He arrived in Cuba in the second decade of the 1500s,
perhaps as a sailor or, because of his age, as a page. Yet he apparently
joined the Narváez expedition that was dispatched from Cuba to arrest
Cortés as a crossbowman. Like most of his companions, he deserted
Narváez and joined Cortés at Vera Cruz and afterwards survived the
grisly _noche triste_ when the Aztecs drove the Spaniards from their
capital at Tenochtitlán. Immediately thereafter his chance came to
display his nautical skills.
Cortés knew that if he were to recapture lake-bound Tenochtitlán, he
would have to control the causeways that linked the city to the
mainland. That meant building enough small brigantines to overpower the
Aztec war canoes that had harried the retreating Spaniards so
mercilessly during the _noche triste_. According to the
soldier-historian Bernal Díaz del Castillo, Cortés put Cabrillo in
charge of four “men of the sea” who understood how to make pine tar for
caulking ships. But was that all the younger warrior did? Seamen were
needed in all phases of the operation, beginning with the prefabrication
of thirteen brigantines 50 miles from the capital and then transporting
the pieces on the backs of at least 8,000 porters to the shores of the
lake, where they were reassembled.
Each brigantine was manned by a dozen oarsmen, who also handled the
sails. Each carried several crossbowmen and arquebus marksmen. The
little fleet was important enough that Cortés took charge in person. A
fortuitous wind enabled the brigantines to hoist sails and smash with
devastating effect into a massed gathering of Aztec canoes. Afterwards
they fought a dozen fierce skirmishes while protecting the footmen on
the causeway—opportunity enough for a good sailor and fighter to catch
the general’s eye, if indeed Cabrillo was in the fleet, as he well may
have been.
Tenochtitlán regained, the actual conquest of Mexico began. Small bands
of Spaniards, reinforced by numerous Indian allies, radiated out in all
directions. It is known that Cabrillo participated as an officer of
crossbowmen in the conquest of Oaxaca. Later he joined red-bearded Pedro
de Alvarado, cousin of Coronado’s officer, Hernando de Alvarado, in
seizing Guatemala and El Salvador. During those long, sanguinary
campaigns Cabrillo performed well enough that he was rewarded with
_encomiendas_ in both Guatemala and Honduras.
An _encomienda_ was a grant of land embracing one or more Indian
villages. In exchange for protecting the village and teaching the
inhabitants to become Christian subjects of the king, the _encomendero_
was entitled to exact taxes and labor from them. Most grant holders
ignored duties while concentrating on the privileges. What kind of
master Cabrillo was does not appear. Anyway, for the next 15 years his
Indian laborers grew food for slaves he had put to work in placer mines
on his lands and in the shipyards he supervised on Guatemala’s Pacific
coast. He traded profitably with Peru and meanwhile enriched his
personal life by taking an Indian woman as his consort. With her he
fathered several children. Later he brought a Spanish wife—Beatriz
Sánchez de Ortega—into his extensive and, for the time and place,
luxurious household.
Successful shipbuilding helped keep the excitement of the conquistadors
high, for if the world was as small as generally believed, China, the
islands of Indonesia, and the Philippines, discovered by Magellan in
1521, could not be far away. There might be other islands as well, ruled
by potentates as rich as Moctezuma or inhabited by gorgeous black
Amazons who allowed men to visit them only on certain occasions and
afterwards slew them. There was that mythical “terrestrial paradise”
called California in a popular romance of the time, _Las Sergas de
Esplandián_. According to the author, seductive California was ruled by
dazzling queen Calafia, whose female warriors wielded swords of gold,
there being no other metal in the land, and used man-eating griffins as
beasts of burden. What a spot to find!
The ships charged with searching for these places were built of
materials hauled overland (except for timber) from the Atlantic to the
Pacific by Indian bearers. The vessels were small, ill-designed, cranky,
and often did not have decks. Nevertheless, ships sent out into the
unknown by Cortés during the early 1530s discovered a strip of coast the
sailors believed was part of an island. They were the first, probably,
to refer to it as California, perhaps in derision since the desolate
area was so totally different from the paradise described in the
romance. The notion of nearby Gardens of Eden persisted, however, and
interest soared again when Cabeza de Vaca’s party reached Mexico in 1536
with tales of great cities in the north.
Cortés, who considered himself the legitimate _adelantado_ of the north,
tried to cut in on Mendoza’s plans to exploit the Vaca discoveries.
Rebuffed, he defied the Viceroy by dispatching three ships under a
kinsman, Francisco de Ulloa—one of the vessels soon foundered—to search
for a sea opening to the lands of Cíbola. Finding himself locked in a
gulf, Ulloa retreated along the eastern edge of the 800-mile-long
peninsula that we call Baja California, rounded its tip and continued
north to within 130 miles or so of the present U.S.-Mexico border. No
inlets. His ships battered by adverse winds and his men wracked by
scurvy, he returned to Mexico, only to be murdered, it is said, by one
of his sailors.
The only man remaining who could have saved Cortés’s dimming star was
his old captain, Pedro de Alvarado, then governor of Guatemala. Dreaming
of still more wealth in the sea, Alvarado, too, had built a pair of
shipyards on the Pacific coast and had put Juan Rodríguez Cabrillo in
charge of creating vessels out of materials dragged overland by Indians
from the Atlantic. In 1538 Alvarado went to Spain and returned with 300
volunteers and a license to conquer any islands he found in the South
Seas. By then he commanded 13 vessels, several of which had been built
by Cabrillo. In the fleet were three galleons of 200 tons each, one of
which, the _San Salvador_ was owned and piloted by Cabrillo; seven ships
of 100 tons, and three lesser brigantines. If Alvarado had thrown in
with Cortés ... but prudence dictated that he consult first with
Mendoza, who had already invested some money in the building of the
armada. So he took the fleet north to the port of Colima, due west of
Mexico City and left it at anchor there, under Cabrillo’s watchful eye,
while he went inland to dicker with the Viceroy.
In the end Mendoza and Alvarado agreed to share equally in the expenses
and profits of a double venture: they would send some ships west to the
Philippines and some north to Cíbola and then on to a strait called
Anian, which supposedly sliced through the upper latitudes of the
continent. The arrangements, which ignored Cortés’s claims, sent the
aging conquistador hurrying to Spain in 1540 in search of justice, as he
defined justice. He never returned.
Alvarado had no opportunity to exploit the newly opened field. When an
Indian revolt broke out in provinces of Jalisco and Michacán, the
viceroy called on Alvarado to bring in his volunteers as reinforcements.
During an engagement in the summer of 1541, a horse lost its footing on
a steep hillside, rolled down and crushed Alvarado to death.
[Illustration: Navigation was still in its infancy in Cabrillo’s
day. Mariners sailed by “dead” reckoning, a method of figuring
location by multiplying time by estimated speed over a given course.
The main instruments were the compass, the hourglass, and the
astrolabe. None of these devices was exact, and charts and
mathematical tables were often inaccurate. Hence mariners sailed as
much by instinct as by science. Skill often meant the difference
between a successful voyage and wreck.]
Onerous problems followed. Alvarado’s estate had to be put in order;
ships had to be refitted; the chaos of an earthquake at Santiago,
Guatemala, headquarters of Cabrillo’s holdings, had to be confronted. In
due time Mendoza acquired control of the fleet, including the use of
Cabrillo’s _San Salvador_, and in 1542 launched the major explorations
previously agreed on. Ruy Lopéz de Villalobos took ships to the
Philippines. On June 27 of that same year Cabrillo headed north with
three vessels: _San Salvador_, which he captained; _Victoria_, commanded
by pilot Bartolomé Ferrer (a pilot ranked just below a captain and was
far more than a mere guide); and _San Miguel_, a small brigantine used
as a launch and service vessel. It was commanded by Antonio Correa, an
experienced shipmaster. More than 200 persons were crowded aboard the
three vessels.[6]
[Illustration: Compass and astrolabe]
Because both Ulloa and Alarcón had reported that the Sea of Cortés was a
gulf, Cabrillo made no effort to follow the mainland north, but led his
ships directly toward the tip of the peninsula, calling it California
without comment, as though the name was already in current use. For
nearly three months they sailed along Baja’s outer coast, bordered much
of the way by “high, naked, and rugged mountains.” Because they were
looking for a river entrance to the interior and for a strait leading to
the Atlantic, they sailed as close to land as they dared, constantly
tacking in order to defeat the contrary winds and the Pacific’s erratic
currents.
About August 20 they passed the most northerly point (Punta del Engaño)
reached by Ulloa. A little farther on, where the land was flat, they
beached the vessels to make some necessary repairs and, while exploring
the neighborhood, found a camp of Indian fishermen. The native leaders,
their bodies decorated with slashes of white paint, came on board,
looked over the sailors and soldiers and indicated “they had seen other
men like them who had beards and had brought dogs, _ballestas_
[crossbows] and swords.” Since there was no mention of horses, the
strangers probably had come from ships. Ulloa’s men of 1539? Hernando de
Alarcón’s of 1540? Or a later party, for there had been talk of
Alarcón’s returning for another venture inland. Mystified, Cabrillo
entrusted the Indians with a letter for the bearded ones.
They relaunched the ships and another month dragged by—crosswinds,
headwinds, calms. Cabrillo took constant sightings of sun and stars with
his massive astrolabe, no small task for he had to stand with his back
braced against a mast for steadiness on the heaving deck while he called
out the readings that were to be recorded in the log. Speed was computed
by throwing a wooden float over the stern and counting the marks
flashing by as the line holding it unwound from its reel. Compasses were
used, but magnetic declinations were not well understood. All of
Cabrillo’s longitudes and latitudes were wide of the mark, but the fault
was not entirely his or his instruments. He began his reckonings at a
point inaccurately observed by others. Even the precise location of
Mexico City was unknown in 1542.
_San Salvador_, Cabrillo’s Flagship
[Illustration: The San Salvador]
Cabrillo himself built the ship he sailed up the California coast. It
was constructed between 1536 and 1540 at Iztapa on the west coast of
Guatemala. This region was something of a shipbuilding center, with a
reputation for better quality than the yards of Seville, Spain. Much
of the labor was furnished by Indians and black slaves, whole villages
of whom were conscripted to portage supplies, raise food, cut lumber,
trim timbers, and make pitch, rope, and charcoal.
_San Salvador_ was a full-rigged galleon, with an approximate length
of 100 feet, a beam of 25 feet, and a draft of 10 feet. The crew
numbered about 60: 4 officers, 25 to 30 seamen, and 2 or 3
apprentices, and two dozen or so slaves, blacks and Indians. On the
voyage to California, _San Salvador_ also carried about 25 soldiers
and at least one priest. The ship was armed with several cannon.
Ship’s fare was wine, hard bread, beans, salt meat, fish, and anything
fresh picked up along the way, all washed down by mugs of wine.
Officers, who probably brought along food of their own and servants to
prepare it, ate better. Slaves lived off rations of soup and bread and
scraps left by others.
[Illustration: The ship’s cannon probably resembled this Lombardo of
the period. It fired a stone ball about 3½ inches in diameter.
This illustration by John Batchelor is based on the research of
Melbourne Smith.]
On September 28, three months after leaving Mexico, the ships crossed
the future international border and put into a “very good enclosed port,
to which they gave the name San Miguel.” It was our San Diego.
The Indians there were afraid. That evening they wounded, with arrows,
three men of a fishing party. Instead of marching forth in retaliation,
Cabrillo sailed slowly on into the harbor, caught two boys, gave them
presents, and let them go. The kindness worked. The next day three large
men partly dressed in furs (the “Summary” says) came to the ship and
galloped around to illustrate horsemen killing Indians far inland.
Melchior Díaz, fighting Yumans during his crossing of the Colorado in
the fall of 1540? Or had word of Coronado’s battles at Háwikuh and on
the Rio Grande trickled this far west along the trade trails? In any
event, Europeans were no longer a mystery. On three more occasions
Cabrillo picked up rumors of Spaniards in the interior.
After easily riding out the first storm of the season in the harbor, the
ships sailed on, pausing at Avalon on Santa Catalina Island and later at
the island we call San Clemente. Along the way they remarked on the many
flat-lying streamers of smoke from Indian villages near San Pedro and,
later, Santa Monica Bays (warnings, unrecognizable then, of temperature
inversions and smog). Somewhere near modern Oxnard, they spent a few
pleasant days with Chumash Indians, admiring their big, conical huts and
their marvelous plank canoes. Tantalized by a fresh rumor of Spaniards
near a large river (the Colorado?), Cabrillo sent out a letter in care
of some Indians “on a chance.” But where the river reached the coast, if
it did, he could not learn.
[Illustration: A deadeye and a triple-purchase block of the type
used on _San Salvador_. Deadeyes and lanyards were employed in fixed
rigging, frequently to secure shrouds that supported the mast; on
the right is a typical setup, by which lines were tightened and
secured to the vessel’s frame. A block and tackle were essential for
hoisting heavy yards. Drawings by John Batchelor.]
The coast from Oxnard to Cabo de Galera (our Point Conception) runs
roughly east and west for nearly a hundred miles before bending sharply
north. This stretch was heavily populated. Many canoes traveled
alongside the ships, and there was a great deal of calling back and
forth and exchanges of gifts. A string of islands, also populated,
paralleled the shore, forming what is now called the Santa Barbara
Channel. On October 18 the Spanish ships endeavored to round Cabo de
Galera but were blown by strong winds out to the westernmost of the
Channel Islands, one the mariners had not yet explored. They named it
Posesión (it is now San Miguel) and remained in the shelter of Cuyler’s
Harbor for about a week.
The idyllic days were over—and so, in many critical ways, is agreement
between Juan Páez’s “Summary” of Cabrillo’s log and the testimony about
the trip given in 1560 to the _audiencia_ of Guatemala by Lázaro de
Cárdenas and Francisco de Vargas, both of whom told the court they had
been on the trip.
During the stay on Posesión, according to the “Summary,” Cabrillo fell
and broke his arm near the shoulder. In spite of that, he resumed the
journey, rounded Point Conception, was again driven back, tried once
more, and in mid-November succeeded. The fleet soon reached the rugged
Santa Lucia Range, in which William Randolph Hearst four centuries later
built fabulous San Simeon. For the mariners it was a heart-stopping
area—“mountains which seem to reach the heavens.... Sailing close to the
land, it appears as though they would fall on the ships. They are
covered with snow.”
They may have sailed as far as the vicinity of Point Reyes, a little
north of San Francisco Bay, or they may have gone no farther than
Monterey Bay, where they almost certainly anchored on November 16.
Whatever their northernmost point, they turned back, probably because of
bad weather, possibly because of Cabrillo’s sufferings. On November 23
they once again landed on San Miguel Island. There, sensing he was about
to die, Cabrillo made the pilot, Bartolomé Ferrer (or Ferrelo in some
accounts) swear to continue the explorations. On January 3, 1543, he
perished and was buried on the island.
Or was he? In 1901, an amateur archeologist, Philip M. Jones, found on
Santa Rosa Island, just east of San Miguel, an old Indian _mano_, or
grinding stone, into one of whose sides a cross and the fused initials
JR had been incised. The stone was stored in a basement at the
University of California, Berkeley, until 1972, when Berkeley’s noted
anthropologist, Dr. Robert Heizer, began wondering whether the curiosity
might have once marked Juan Rodríguez’s grave. So far extensive
examinations have determined nothing about this additional mystery.