Read Online Aboard Cabrillo's Galleon by Christine Echeverria Bender - Free Book Online Page A

brow and smiled at his imagining that the vessels were as impatient as he to be off. A priest would almost certainly deem such personifications of a fleet heretical in nature.
    He turned away and wove his way slowly along the beach, letting his thoughts turn to the vigorously working crews. With recent injuries being light and few and any with signs of fever being kept far from their activities, the men were in first-rate condition for their departure. Last evening while aboard the San Miguel , Cabrillo had noticed with satisfaction that the men who had been involved in the fight two weeks earlier were working with healthy vigor. Their lightly marred backs affirmed that Captain Correa’s boatswain had followed his orders to use the lash sparingly.
    The same sort of leniency, he uneasily reflected back, had not always been extended to the Indians pressed into labor in order to complete the building of the ships. Much of the heavy equipment and materials had been carried on their bare shoulders from interior provinces over backbreaking terrain to reach this port. Even here the men had nearly revolted due to working and living conditions, so Indian women were gathered from the nearby countryside and marched to Navidad to calm the men by serving them both sexually and domestically. Some of those same Indians would sail with them tomorrow, and a number might even be utilized to build a settlement in the strange lands they would encounter.
    Cabrillo was pulled from his reverie when Sánchez pointed back toward the San Miguel and said, “Captain Correa is approaching us, sir.”
    Before his launch reached the sand near their feet, Correa called out, “How goes the morning effort, Captain-General?”
    â€œWell enough, Captain Correa.” When Correa dropped from his boat and strode up to them, Cabrillo confided, “There is but one thing that devils my peace of mind, Captain, and it grows worse with every passing hour. Where is our second priest? He should have been here days ago.”
    â€œIf he fails to arrive, will our sailing be postponed, sir?”
    â€œYou know our orders as well as I, Captain,” Cabrillo grumbled. “We would have no choice but to wait. We must have two priests aboard. To think that the majority of our efforts in preparing for departure could be wasted because of a single individual...” He gave Correa a sidelong glance and lowered his voice to the level of mischief. “If it were left to me I would be tempted to ask Father Gamboa to perform a peremptory ordination, even of your rowers.”
    Correa choked back his laughter. “One of my men! What a thought, Captain-General! The heavens would weep.”
    The officers swung around at the sudden crash of pottery followed by volleys of accusation between an olive merchant and a sailor, both standing over a three-gallon, pointed-bottomed clay jar that lay in pieces amid its spilled contents.
    â€œBilbao!” Cabrillo raised his voice toward the nearest sailor. “See that that vessel is replaced. I want no shortage of olives.”
    â€œYes, sir!” the young seaman responded smartly, as aware as every other crewman that the captain-general’s weakness for the small salty fruit was nothing to be ignored.
    â€œSince all is going well here, Lope,” Cabrillo said to his supply officer, “I will leave things in your hands. Captain Correa, will you join me while I check on the horses?”
    â€œWith pleasure, Captain-General. Since my little mare has never been to sea I am anxious to confirm her fitness.”
    Over the past three weeks Cabrillo had kept the horses stabled a little longer each day and had seen that their feed was gradually changed in order to more closely imitate their future conditions on board. The ships were taking with them what Cabrillo deemed a generous supply of dried carrots, maize, grain, and chopped hay. He was fairly confident that they would be hugging the