Río de los Temblores
by
David L. Farebrother
U.S. Copyright TXu 1-973-661 © 2015
David L. Farebrother
All rights reserved
Río de los Temblores
The Spanish Explorers
The earthquake struck as the Spanish explorers emerged from a shady oak forest and were entering a sunlit, grassy plain. The horses sensed the rock fracturing far beneath their feet before the men became aware. The horses' ears pricked up and their eyes darted. They tossed their heads about, seeking the source of the unseen menace. Their steps became short and quick as they pranced frantically across the grass. They would have all fled from the impending danger surging up at them, but were unable to decide which path might take them to safety. The mules balked and tugged at their lead ropes, braying loudly. Then the mastiffs began to bark and howl, except for the youngest dog which cowered and whimpered in the grass.
The Indians following behind the horses all stopped suddenly in mid-step. Fray Guillen was walking with the Indians, reciting the rosary in a loud voice. He had hopes that the Indians would begin learning the Latin prayers with the constant repetition. He was on the fifth bead of the third decade when Viejo Mateo, who had been walking in front of him, came to a halt. Fray Guillen, who was concentrating on the beads of his rosary, collided with Viejo Mateo and lost his balance. He fell on his side in the tall grass. Viejo Mateo turned to assist him when the earth heaved beneath his feet, knocking him over as well.
The energy unleashed by the earthquake kicked up rocks and pieces of deadwood as it reached the earth's surface. Dust roiled into the air. Immediately following the initial thud came a loud roar, sounding like a tremendous landslide. The oak trees in the forest which the Spanish explorers had just left behind began to wave about as if a great hurricane was blowing.
Capitán Alvarez, who had experienced earthquakes in Mexico, was able to control his nervous mount. The other soldiers struggled with their horses but managed to stay in their saddles except for Privado Martinez, who had dozed off. His horse leaped sideways when the jolt hit and Privado Martinez wasn't prepared. He fell heavily to the ground, landing on his knees. This startled the horse even more and it began to buck and kick out as the earth moved beneath its feet. The mule tethered to Privado Martinez' mount tried to back away from the kicking horse and broke the lead rope.
Gradually the shaking subsided and the Spaniards coaxed their horses back into marching formation. Martinez jumped to his feet, although his knees were numb from the fall. He rushed to take hold of his horse's bridle and get it under control. The horse stopped bucking. It paced and pawed nervously while Martinez remounted.
As soon as the ground ceased moving, the mule which had been tethered to Martinez' mount turned and ran back toward the oak forest. This mule was the sickest and slowest of the mules and had been given the lightest load, consisting of the capitán's tent, the royal standard and some of the soldiers' bedding. But now the terror-stricken mule had found new energy and was intent on galloping the entire distance to Guaymas and the last safe stall it had known. As it ran, the pack ropes began to loosen. Bed rolls and tent poles fell by the trailside. Capitán Alvarez shouted an order to Martinez, who kicked his horse into a gallop in pursuit of the runaway mule.
Viejo Mateo helped Fray Guillen to his feet. The monk felt as if some of his ribs had been broken by the pounding of the ground against his body as he lay prone in the grass. He was unsteady and gasping for air as he leaned against Viejo Mateo for support. Capitán Alvarez rode to the back of the column to see if Fray Guillen had been injured.
"Brother Guillen, are you hurt?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," answered Fray Guillen, checking his ribs. "I think I will be able to continue as soon as I catch my breath. What happened?"
"Fue un temblor fuerte. A powerful earthquake," said Capitán Alvarez. "Would you like to ride for a while? I can order one of the men to dismount."
"No, no," said Guillen. "Just give me a little time to regain my composure. I would prefer to walk with these Indians and continue praying. Have there been any casualties? Has the shaking stopped?"
"For the moment," replied the capitán. "Sometimes earthquakes come in series. There seems to have been no harm done except for a mule which ran off. Brother, can you send some of the natives to gather the items which have fallen from the mule's pack?"
Fray Guillen spoke to Viejo Mateo in a mixture of Spanish and Tongva. Viejo Mateo turned and motioned to several Indians who went running into the forest after the mule.
The mule was able to gallop some distance before the pack saddle slipped around under its belly and began to hinder its movements. In its panic it had gotten off onto a side trail and was lost, still wanting to get to Guaymas. It wandered aimlessly among the twisted oak trees, wheezing and sweating.
Martinez had gone galloping down the main trail, completely missing the side trail which the mule had taken. He rode for nearly an hour before giving up. He was reluctant to return without the mule and face the wrath of Capitán Alvarez. Alvarez would be furious about the lost mule and the time wasted looking for it. But there was no other alternative. Martinez started back toward the clearing, where the rest of the company would be waiting.
Capitán Alvarez gave an order to Teniente Aguirre, sending him off specifically to retrieve the royal standard. He did not want any of the Indians to be in possession of the banner of the King of Spain. After Teniente Aguirre left, Capitán Alvarez returned to speak with Fray Guillen.
"Brother Guillen, can you ask this Indian what he knows about earthquakes in this area?" said the capitán. "He seems to be the oldest and most intelligent of them all."
Viejo Mateo listened as the monk spoke to him. Viejo Mateo had learned some Spanish and was patient in teaching Fray Guillen his language. He realized that the capitán and the holy man expected him to explain to them why the world had just shaken and moved so violently.
Viejo Mateo did not reply immediately. He wanted to relate to the monk and the chief of the soldiers the story of the two brother gods, Jewe and Bala, who had ruled the earth in harmony for many ages until Bala, the youngest and stronger of the two, determined to change the order of the world as he thought best. But Jewe would not allow the changes. Bala resented this and became impatient to have the world as he envisioned. He bided his time until he saw an opportunity to overthrow Jewe and rule the earth by himself. But Jewe, being older and wiser, had been able to foresee the plans of his brother. He had secretly prepared a path to a safe place, hidden from Bala and his followers. Thus began the current age of the world in which the struggles of the brother gods overshadowed all else and the peace was destroyed. The brothers battled intensely for a time, but neither could overcome the other. Then they retired to their refuges to rest and heal their wounds. Soon enough, the fighting would begin anew as one brother felt threatened by the other. Sometimes the brothers would wrestle beneath the sea. Great storms and huge waves would come out of the ocean. The waters would be violent and confused. Any people who were foolish enough to venture out in their tomols would be tossed about and drowned. Other times the brothers fought on the mountaintops. Lightning and thunder would frighten the people below. Fires would rage in the hills. All the trees and plants would be destroyed and the animals driven out. Smoke and ash would descend upon the people. Sometimes the gods used the people themselves to fight their battles. In those times there would be rapes and murders and strife among the tribes. The people of Bala, although stronger and fiercer, could never prevail because they were not united and sometimes fought each other with little provocation. The people of Jewe joined together to drive off their enemies and protect their homes. Then the gods would resume fighting elsewhere. At times Jewe and Bala battled each other deep beneath the earth and the whole world would convulse from the violence of their struggles. These battles seldom terminated in a day and the earth might continue shaking for several days.
Viejo Mateo considered telling the Spaniards these things but he knew that Fray Guillen would be upset to hear him speak of the gods of the Indians. Finally he said simply, "A giant sleeps beneath the earth. When he awakens, the earth moves."
Fray Guillen translated for Capitán Alvarado. Alvarado, who had been expecting a more detailed description of tremors in the region, looked at the Indian in disgust, as if he had been personally responsible for the earthquake. The capitán rode his horse back to the head of the column.
After a while, Capitán Alvarado ordered his men to dismount, realizing that it might be some time before Privado Martinez returned with the mule which had escaped. The men got down and walked about, nerves on edge from the shock of the intense shaking of the earth. The horses and mules were skittish as well. There was plenty of forage in the clearing but the animals were too alarmed to graze.
As they were waiting, Teniente Aguirre returned bearing the royal standard.
"Did you see Martinez?" asked Capitán Alvarado.
"No, Capitán," replied Aguirre. "I didn't see him or the mule, either. Four of the Indians have gathered up the bedrolls and tent poles. They should be here soon. I saw three other Indians run off into the forest on another trail. I don't know where they are going."
"Probably returning to their village," said Capitán Alvarado. "Maybe the earthquake scared them off. Martinez will be back, though. He has no other place to go."
The three Indians who had disappeared down the side trail had not fully understood Fray Guillen's instructions as relayed to them by Viejo Mateo. They ran in pursuit of Privado Martinez and the runaway mule until they came to the place where the mule had blundered off in one direction and Martinez had blindly kept to the main trail. They knew instantly what had happened. After a brief exchange, two of the natives went after the mule and the other ran to catch up with Martinez. The two found the lost mule fairly quickly. One of them timidly approached to grasp the loose end of the lead rope. The mule tried to move away, pulling the rope out of the Indian's hand. The mule would have resumed its flight to Guaymas but it still couldn't run because of the pack saddle dangling around its belly. The Indians and the mule eyed each other suspiciously as they stood beneath the huge oaks.
The third Indian, the one the Spaniards had named Lucas, continued running down the trail after Martinez. He eventually encountered Martinez as the soldier was ambling dejectedly up the trail toward his inevitable confrontation with Capitán Alvarez. Lucas spoke eagerly to Martinez, gesticulating and pointing, but Martinez didn't understand a word the Indian was saying. Martinez urged his horse to a trot and Lucas ran after him effortlessly until they came to the fork in the trail. Martinez was about to keep going toward the clearing where Capitán Alvarez would be waiting for him with fire in his eyes when Lucas ran around in front of his horse, waving his arms and pointing. "Mula, mula!" he said loudly as he jumped about. 'Mula' was one of the few Spanish words Lucas had learned. Martinez reined in his horse and looked in the direction Lucas was indicating. He turned and followed Lucas down the side trail.
Lucas led him to the place where the mule and the other two Indians were studying each other. Every time the mule tried to move, the Indians got around in front of it to keep it from fleeing. The mule had its ears laid back, waiting for an opportunity to lunge at its tormentors.
Martinez got off his horse and approached the mule, speaking softly. The mule calmed down a little. One of the Indians grabbed the mule's rope in a show of bravado and presented it to Martinez. Martinez begrudgingly thanked him. He tied the mule securely to a tree trunk while he removed the pack saddle. He spent some time untangling the ropes and untying the knots while the Indians watched. Then he replaced the pack saddle on the mule's back. He jerked and tightened the cinch somewhat more than necessary to relieve some of his anger at the mule. He fastened the mule's lead rope to his saddle and they all headed back toward the grassy clearing.
When they reached the main party, Privado Martinez dismounted and saluted Capitán Alvarez, prepared for the unavoidable tongue-lashing. Alvarez released all of his pent-up fury on the defenseless Martinez, who could only stand at attention while the capitán addressed Martinez' faults and defects as a Spanish soldier in full hearing of his fellows. Beads of sweat formed on Martinez brow and his stomach began to churn as he rigidly stood there.
Alvarez was considering a suitable punishment, but his options were limited. He couldn't demote Martinez because he was already at the lowest grade. He couldn't withhold his pay because none of them were going to receive their pay for many months, until they returned to Mexico. It would not be possible to conduct a court martial in this uncivilized wilderness. Finally, he told Martinez that he would be sent back to a training camp as soon as their assignment had been completed. Just then a strong aftershock jolted the meadow. All the soldiers straightened up and looked around in alarm. The horses whinnied and paced. When the shaking stopped, Capitán Alvarez gave the order to load up Martinez' mule and move out.
The Spaniards marched onward. They were able to follow a game trail leading through the grassy opening, skirting the oak forests which covered the slopes on both sides of the meadow. The air was hazy with suspended dust. Before the great quake had hit, jays and magpies could be seen flying from oak tree to oak tree, screeching loudly at the intrusion of the Spanish horsemen. Now all was quiet. Only vultures and hawks could be seen sailing silently overhead.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat increased notably. The soldiers were glad when the grassy meadow came to an end and the trail took them back into the shade of the oak forest. The trail became steeper and they began to climb some high hills.
The hills and valleys and forests and meadows which they had been traversing for many days seemed to repeat endlessly as they marched northward. Their only guide was the compass needle, as there were no charts for this unexplored territory. So far the compass had pointed them in the right direction and allowed them to make good progress toward Monterey. But God only knew how long it would take to reach Monterey, if indeed it was possible to march overland to the port and locate it in the vast wilderness.
As the company marched through the oak forest, the only human voice to be heard was Fray Guillen, who was walking with the Indians singing Latin hymns. Fray Guillen possessed a beautiful, angelic singing voice. The Indians were fascinated with his melodic songs. Although their understanding of the lyrics was limited, they did perceive the majestic and inspiring sentiments of the music. Some of the soldiers riding ahead found Fray Guillen's singing to be comforting. Others regarded it as an annoyance. Capitán Alvarez rode silently in the lead.
After several hours of marching uphill, the Spaniards came to a ridge where the trees thinned out a little, allowing them to view the terrain which lay ahead. Before them was another valley. There seemed to be a line of tall trees running down the middle of the valley. The valley floor was punctuated here and there by a few knolls crowned with oak trees.
Capitán Alvarez spoke with Teniente Aguirre.
"Aguirre, do you have your glass handy?" said the capitán. "Look at those mountains on the far side of the valley and tell me what you see."
Aguirre reached into his saddle bag and got out a small telescope. After studying the steep slopes in the distance he answered, "It appears that the entire face of the mountainside has been sheared off by the earthquake. I think I can make out a huge pile of rubble at the base of the mountain, but it is hard to tell with all the dust in the air."
"I hope to God that we do not have to go across that mountain," said Alvarez, "or even near it. I fear that there will be more earthquakes. We wouldn't want to get caught in a landslide. What about that line of trees in the center of the valley? Is there water nearby?"
"Yes, Capitán," replied Teniente Aguirre. "There is a small river flowing beneath the trees the entire length of the valley."
"Good," said Alvarez. "That will be our destination. Give the orders."
The column resumed its march, descending a steep grade. The horses and mules struggled to keep from sliding on the loose rocks. The soldiers took precautions to ensure that the mules followed at the proper distance. Every rider had to allow ample space between his mount and the rider in front of him. They were forced to make many switchbacks in order to find a more navigable pathway, blazing a trail through the thick undergrowth. The descent was much more tiring than the climb up to the ridge. By the time they reached the valley floor, they were all exhausted, soldiers and horses alike. Capitán Alvarez ordered the men to dismount and rest for half an hour.
The soldiers rested in the shade of some oaks and drank from their water skins. They nibbled on hard biscuits. The horses and mules grazed. Green grass was plentiful but the soldiers knew that the animals were thirsty and would have to be watered soon. Fray Guillen sat a little distance away with the Indians, reading aloud from a book of devotions. The Indians listened solemnly, although they could only understand a few of the words. The dogs lay panting nearby.
Some of the men had fallen asleep by the time Teniente Aguirre called out the order to resume the march. Late that afternoon, the Spanish explorers reached the line of trees which they had discerned from the ridge top. The tall trees were found to be huge sycamores growing on both sides of a stream which cut across the valley. The water was good and even though there were several hours of daylight left, Capitán Alvarez decided to make camp for the night. He was unhappy with the progress they had made that day and would have preferred to continue the march, but it was impossible to determine how much farther they would have to travel to reach good water again. Teniente Aguirre issued the orders and the men unsaddled their horses and unloaded the mules.
Capitán Alvarez located a site for his tent under the sycamores. The men pitched the tent and posted the banner of the King of Spain nearby. Some of the soldiers watered the horses and mules, and a couple of others started a fire. Privado Corduño, the company cook, filled a pot with water and added some dried beans from a sack. He hung the iron kettle over the flames.
When the Indians saw that the Spaniards would not resume marching until the following morning, they began to look for another campsite for themselves. They went upstream because they knew that the soldiers and horses would quickly foul the waters of the creek. They found a grassy hummock next to the river and settled in. Two of the natives began to excavate a fire pit. Some of the others found digging sticks and waded to a swampy area to look for tubers.
Viejo Mateo motioned to Lucas and another Indian, who the Spaniards had named Pedro because he was taller and more robust than the others, to join him a little distance down the road they had just traveled. Viejo Mateo had noticed a herd of about twenty deer resting in the shade of some oak trees atop one of the knolls they had passed not long before. Apparently the Spaniards hadn't seen the deer, although they were on horseback and had a better vantage point. Viejo Mateo told Lucas and Pedro that they should hunt the deer and bring meat to their camp. They determined that it would be necessary to kill three deer because the Spaniards would keep the first one for themselves and feed the second one to their dogs. If the Indians hoped to eat meat, they would need to kill three. They discussed their plan to approach the deer from downwind and decided who would shoot the first arrow.
Viejo Mateo then called over another young Indian. The Spaniards had named him Joven Mateo because they thought the two Mateos were father and son. Viejo Mateo and Joven Mateo belonged to the same clan but they were not closely related. Such distinctions were not very important to the Tongva, so they did not attempt to correct the Spaniards' mistaken assumption. Viejo Mateo told his clansman of their plans to bring meat to the camp and asked Joven Mateo to tell Corduño, the cook, to come after them so that he could butcher the deer with his steel knives. The three older Indians set off for the hill.
Joven Mateo ran to the Spanish camp and timidly grabbed Privado Corduño by the sleeve. Once Joven Mateo had gotten Corduño's attention, he motioned as if he were biting a piece of meat. He pointed to the hill where Viejo Mateo and others had gone to hunt. Joven Mateo touched Corduño's big knife in the mess kit and acted like he was cutting off pieces of flesh. Corduño was puzzled at first but then grasped the idea the Indian boy was trying to convey. He took up the knife and followed Joven Mateo.
Viejo Mateo, Lucas and Pedro ran quickly to the downwind side of the hill and began to work their way up, taking advantage of the brush to stay out of sight of the deer. They were halfway to the crest when Viejo Mateo detected a different scent in the air. A bear was apparently on the other side of the hill, probably stalking the same deer.
The deer caught the scent of the bear at the same time. The deer, which had been lying down in the shade of the oaks, quickly got up on their feet, ears twitching, noses working, trying to pinpoint the source of the danger. One frightened deer jumped sideways and then simultaneously all the deer bounded rapidly down the slope away from the bear. The fleeing deer ran directly toward the concealed Indians. Viejo Mateo reacted quickly, with the instincts of a hunter. He notched his arrow and drew, the arrowhead following a big doe which, in a couple of long bounds, had come close to him. Viejo Mateo loosened his arrow and it buried itself in the deer's body, right behind the shoulder. The doe made a couple of awkward leaps and then collapsed, legs quivering. Pedro had hit his deer in the haunch. The deer was crippled but still able to run. Now Pedro would have to pursue it until he could get another shot. Lucas missed his deer completely. He retrieved his arrow and ran after Pedro in pursuit of the wounded deer. Viejo Mateo quickly pulled his arrow out of the doe's shoulder. He glanced up the hill. He could see the back of a huge bear, which was sniffing the ground where the deer had been resting. Viejo Mateo dragged the doe down the slope as fast as he could, trying to keep a screen of brush between himself and the bear.
Joven Mateo and Privado Corduño arrived at the bottom of the hill at the same time Viejo Mateo got there with his deer. Corduño quickly and efficiently gutted the deer. He inserted the point of his big Spanish knife between a couple of vertebrae in the neck and pried the bones apart. Then he cut off the head. Viejo Mateo whispered urgently, "Oso!" and pointed up the hill. Corduño turned to see. The bear he beheld was easily twice the size of any bear he had ever seen before. It seemed to glow with a golden-reddish aura. Powerful muscles rippled under its hide. It didn't look anything like the lanky, mangy black bears they had seen in the oak forests. The bear was slowly walking down the hill in their direction, sniffing as it came. Corduño tried to pick up the deer and carry it to the camp, but it quickly became evident that the bear would soon overtake them. Viejo Mateo took the carcass away from Corduño and slung it over the shoulders of Joven Mateo. Even though Joven Mateo was much smaller than Privado Corduño, he was able to carry the deer at a full run down the trail. Corduño was hard-pressed to keep pace even though the only burden he bore was his big knife.
The bear came to the heap of deer entrails and sniffed around. He found a few tasty organs and swallowed them. It merely whetted his appetite. He picked up the deer's head in his mouth and brought his big teeth down on the skull. The skull split into pieces and fell to the ground. The bear licked up the still-warm brains and then began sniffing for more. The smell of deer blood was strong. The bear headed off, following the scent.
Privado Corduño and the two Mateos ran into the Spanish camp and dumped the deer on the ground by the fire. Corduño ran on to his capitán's tent and began shouting without any formalities, "Oso! Un oso tremendo! Viene para aca!" Capitán Alvarez knew that Privado Corduño was not a man to become easily agitated. Whatever the situation was, it must be urgent. Alvarez took his musket out of its carrying case. He primed the chamber, checked the flint and rammed a shot down the barrel. He emerged from the tent, looking for danger. Privado Corduño was standing before him, bloody knife in hand. Capitán Alvarez gruffly asked the private to state his business. Corduño gathered his senses and remembered to salute his superior. He attempted to explain what had happened, but he stumbled over his words when he tried to describe the bear. Capitán Alvarez walked briskly to the fire and saw the deer carcass lying there. He looked toward the hill that Privado Corduño had mentioned but he didn't see any bears.
The soldiers gathered around the fire, perplexed. They had never witnessed Corduño lose his composure before. They thought that maybe their companion was having some sort of delusion. At that moment all the mastiffs rose to their feet, growling. Then the horses and mules began tossing their heads and stamping on the ground. Even though they were hobbled and tied together, they were frantically trying to bolt from the camp. The soldiers started to go after them to calm them down before they broke their ropes. The Indians had heard all the commotion and came running to the Spaniards' fire.
Then the bear came into view where the trail rounded some bushes. Nobody moved. None of the Spaniards had ever seen anything resembling the nightmarish monster approaching them. The Indians were familiar with the grizzly but this beast was surely the grandfather of all grizzlies. The mastiffs went after the bear like shots of lightning. They surrounded the bear, barking and growling with fury. They tried to get in to bite the back of the bear's legs. The bear wheeled and caught one of the mastiffs with its huge claws. The bear threw the big mastiff, yelping, off into the brush. The other mastiffs continued to worry the bear even more intensely, but were careful to keep outside of the radius of the swinging arms. The barking of the dogs and the roaring of the bear was deafening. The horses and mules were absolutely screaming in their desperation to get away from the terror.
The bear rose up and stood on its hind legs. It was taller than a man on horseback. It sniffed the air. There were many strange smells and sounds but the scent of deer blood dominated his attention. The bear lowered itself and started walking toward the fire and the deer carcass.
The Indians stood at the periphery of the Spanish camp, observing the scene with dread. They had no intentions of interfering with the bear's pursuit of a meal. They knew that it would do no good to shoot their arrows at the bear. That would only infuriate the beast and make it more unpredictable. The Spanish soldiers were moving backwards in fear, ready to scatter and run. Only Capitán Alvarez stood his ground next to the deer, musket at the ready.
The bear stopped and sniffed the air once again. This bear was accustomed to taking whatever it wanted and right now he wanted deer meat. He intended to take the deer despite the insignificant human standing before him. He lowered his head to charge.
In the instant that the top of the bear's head was exposed, Capitán Alvarez discharged his musket. The shot impacted on the thick skull. Bone shattered and fragments of lead penetrated into the bear's cranium. The bear grunted and then dropped like a sack of grain falling off the back of a wagon. There was a dead silence. The mastiffs stopped barking, puzzled by their enemy's behavior. The horses, which had been trained in warfare, instinctively knew that the sound of gunfire meant that their masters were in control. They ceased tugging at their ropes, awaiting directions from the soldiers. The mules also settled down, reassured by the horses' demeanor.
Some of the Indians fell to their knees, shocked by the loud report of the musket and the instantaneous destruction of the most fearsome beast to walk the hills of their lands. The smell of gun smoke was thick in the air. The Indians had heard tales of the Spaniards' fearsome weapons but they had never actually seen one in action. Several Indians covered their ears and ran off. One had fallen into the grass with his arms wrapped around his knees, shivering and rocking back and forth. Even Viejo Mateo had collapsed and sat with his back against a tree trunk, tears running down his cheeks. Fray Guillen, who had been praying the rosary when the bear appeared, accidently broke the string of beads when the capitán fired off the shot. Now he was bent down in the dust, trying to recover the blessed beads.
The soldiers were astounded by the bravery of their capitán and the accuracy of his shot. But they still weren't entirely certain that the monstrous bear was completely dead. Teniente Aguirre cautiously walked over to the bear's head and prodded it with his foot. The eyes were already beginning to go opaque. The tongue was hanging out between the huge teeth. Blood was soaking into the ground. He turned to face Capitán Alvarez and raised a loud cheer. All the soldiers joined in. They surrounded their leader, praising his marksmanship. Capitán Alvarez, having been raised an aristocrat, did not directly acknowledge the compliments. Instead, he calmly ordered his men to see to the horses. He returned to his tent to clean the musket.
With the threat of the bear gone, a sense of normalcy returned to the Spanish camp. The soldiers stood around the body of the huge bear, commenting on its strength and ferocity. One of the soldiers asked Corduño if he knew how to make bear stew.
"I've never cooked bear before," said Corduño, who had somewhat recovered from his shock. "There must be enough meat here to feed the entire troop for a week. Should I butcher him?"
"You can prepare us a good meal of bear meat, of that I am certain," replied the soldier. "I remember the time you fed us a dead mule and told us it was beef. Nobody could tell the difference."
"Well, let me get busy cutting him up then," said Corduño. "I'll wager that a meal of hot bear stew would do us all some good."
Corduño set about butchering the bear. First he made cuts along the backbone from the tail up. Then he peeled back the skin. He cut out the loins and sliced them up into chunks which he put into the pot with the beans. He added a couple of the precious dried chiles which he had brought from Mexico, a little salt and some crushed sage leaves. He had harvested the sage from some wild plants he encountered in the desert they had crossed before entering into Alta California. It didn't begin to compare with the sage which flavored the food Corduño had eaten at his father's table as a boy. Still it would suffice, considering the circumstances.
After Corduño brought the pot of stew to a simmer, he returned to the bear to cut off flesh to feed to the mastiffs, which had been watching him intently the whole time, licking their chops and drooling. He skinned the hind legs and severed the paws, which he threw aside. The dogs sniffed at the paws and turned away, waiting for fleshier morsels. Corduño went to work on the leg muscles, cutting off slices and throwing them to the mastiffs. The dogs eagerly pounced on the bloody meat, growling and fighting over the larger pieces. Corduño continued cutting until all the mastiffs were satiated.
The smell of cooking bear meat wafted through the camp. The soldiers stood around the fire, watching the stew boil. The Spaniards had forgotten about Viejo Mateo's deer, so the Indians reclaimed it and carried it to their camp upriver. They cut the venison into thin strips which they skewered on sticks and cooked over their own fire while the tubers roasted underneath. Lucas and Pedro eventually came back with the other deer but now there was no need for it. The Indians eagerly related to their two companions how the chief of the Spaniards had killed the great bear. Lucas and Pedro had heard the report of Capitán Alvarez' musket from the other side of the valley where they had tracked the wounded deer and wondered what the sound portended.
The Indians ate their fill and began talking about the huge bear which had wandered the hills alone for many ages and now lay dead and desecrated at the feet of the Spanish strangers. Several of them commented that they would like to have the long claws of the bear to wear around their necks as decorations of valor. They persuaded Joven Mateo to go ask Corduño for the bear's paws. Joven Mateo wandered over to the soldiers' fire. The magnificent bear was lying there, skinned and butchered, already swarming with flies. The Spanish soldiers were gathered around the fire, eating bear stew and biscuits. The mastiffs had all gorged themselves and were sleeping soundly, except for the bitch mastiff which had been thrown by the bear. A large patch of skin had been torn from her side and was hanging loosely. Some of her ribs were exposed. Blood seeped from the wound. The big dog lay by the fire, licking her sores. None of the soldiers or dogs took any notice of Joven Mateo picking up the two large bear paws and carrying them back to the grassy hummock upstream.
Joven Mateo placed the paws by the Indians' fire. The Indians admired the curved claws, which were almost as long as a man's forearm. Each Indian wanted to have a claw but then they began to quarrel over who should have the longest. After an animated discussion, they asked Viejo Mateo to decide for them. Viejo Mateo had been sitting quietly by himself a little distance from the fire. He stood and told the others that he would not wear a claw from a bear killed by the Spaniards, that he would only wear a claw from a bear which he had killed himself. He told them to decide among themselves as he did not want to have anything to do with the matter. He walked away from the fire, toward the hillock where he had seen the deer resting earlier.
None of the other Indians seemed to care how the bear had been killed. They used their flint knives to cut out the claws. Pedro and Lucas had not been present when the bear came to the Spanish encampment, so it was decided that they would not be included in the division. Pedro and Lucas in turn were offended and upset. They went to the Spaniards' camp to find the bear's carcass. They cut even longer claws from the bear's front feet. Darkness was settling in as they returned to the Indians' fire, proudly demonstrating the bloody claws. Insults were traded and Pedro and Lucas left to sleep by themselves under a tall sycamore away from the Indians' fire.
Viejo Mateo climbed to the top of the knoll and stood under the gnarled oak trees as the fiery glow of the sunset faded in the west. His entire existence was unravelling. The coming of the Spanish explorers had unsettled the ageless patterns of life as surely as the great earthquake had shaken the world to its foundations. The Spaniards seemed to possess unlimited power. They would soon bend every living thing in the Tongva lands to their service. They would dominate all the peoples and demand conformance to their ways. Everything Viejo Mateo had learned since childhood had suddenly become irrelevant. He knew that he would never again be in control of his own destiny. He wondered if the Spaniards had been guided to the Tongva lands by Jewe or Bala.
Teniente Aguirre had been in the commander's tent conferring with Capitán Alvarez for some time. Corduño brought them their plates of stew before the other men were permitted to eat. Privado Martinez had just sat down by the fire with his meal when Teniente Aguirre emerged from the tent and called him over. Privado Martinez set aside his plate and ran up to the tent. He came to attention and saluted Aguirre. Teniente Aguirre told him that he had been assigned the first watch. Martinez had been expecting to be given extra duty as he knew that he was no longer in his capitán's good graces. He was not surprised by the teniente's order, but he was hoping to be allowed to finish eating before reporting for duty. Teniente Aguirre's attitude left no doubt that Privado Martinez was to begin patrolling immediately and that there should be no untoward incidents. He would be relieved at midnight. Martinez was issued a musket and dismissed.
Privado Martinez began his rounds as the other men ate. The soldiers were relaxed, sitting around the fire. The unnerving terror of the earthquake had been largely forgotten. The most terrible challenge the wilderness could throw at them, the huge bear, had been conquered and was now served up for their dinner. There was joking and loud conversation with much laughter. When they had all finished eating, one of the soldiers began to sing a song about Catalonia, where he had been born. According to the song, flowers bloomed all year around in Catalonia and were worn by the fairest girls of Spain. A couple of other soldiers joined in, singing the praises of the women of Catalonia. There were a few more songs and then the soldiers unrolled their blankets and lay down to sleep around the fire. Privado Corduño, before retiring, refilled the cooking pot with water and added a few more beans and several pieces of bear meat so that Martinez would have something to eat when his sentinel duty ended.
Fray Guillen stayed up a little longer, reciting his evening prayers. He also was from Catalonia and recalled fondly the beauty of the countryside. More importantly, the songs had brought to mind the grandeur of the great churches of Barcelona and the libraries with shelves of books of Christian learning. He truly missed reading the works of St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas. As he lay on his blanket, he looked up to the heavens and gave silent thanks to God that he was being permitted to save the souls of the natives of this savage land despite the sacrifices to be made. He envisioned a mission church built in this very valley, near the banks of the small river. The soil was good and the source of water seemed to be reliable. Fray Guillen could picture the vineyards in his mind. A grove of olive trees. Cattle grazing contentedly. A bell tower standing against a blue sky. A chapel and a small library. The cross of Christ above all. Many souls redeemed. Then he, too, fell asleep.
Privado Martinez was determined that nothing should go wrong on his watch. He checked and double-checked the ropes and knots of the horses and mules to ensure that they were all properly hobbled and tethered. He re-tied a couple of knots which weren't quite tight enough. He shortened up the tether of the mule which had run away from him. His main concern was that some wild Indians might try to steal a horse or a mule. There was also the danger of another bear or a puma approaching the camp looking for food. He set his perimeter and walked it more frequently than was really required. Martinez was on edge. Something wasn't quite right. He could feel it. Normally there were sounds associated with the darkness – owls hooting, coyotes howling, night birds calling. Right now it was too quiet, only an occasional breeze rustling the leaves of the sycamores. Even the frogs and crickets seemed subdued.
When his rounds took him downwind of the fire, Martinez could smell the stew cooking. His hunger further agitated his nerves. Even though the night was cool, Martinez was perspiring. He felt like he was wound tighter than a guitar string. The soldiers were all snoring soundly by the fire. The mastiffs, full of bear meat, lay stretched out on the grass. Martinez, wishing for some company, kicked one of the sleeping dogs. The big dog merely looked up at him and then went back to sleep. Martinez gazed at the starry sky. The moon had not risen. He couldn't even detect a glow on the horizon. It was still early. His watch would not end for some time yet.
Several hours passed. Nothing unusual had happened. The half-moon cleared the distant hills, silhouetting the twisted oaks growing on the peaks. It would soon be time to wake his relief, Privado Faustino, and turn the musket over to him. Suddenly the horses and mules began tossing and snorting. The mastiffs all sprang to their feet, barking loudly. The earth rumbled. The impact of the first wave nearly knocked Martinez over. He stumbled but managed to keep his balance. The cooking pot was upset into the fire. Sparks flew. The soldiers sat up, startled out of their sleep, looking in all directions for attackers. Those who tried to stand found themselves unable because of the shaking of the ground. This quake was even stronger than the one they had experienced the previous morning. The tall sycamores growing next to the river began swaying violently. Several of them shattered and huge limbs fell from the canopy. The tree next to the tent of Capitán Alvarez broke halfway up the trunk. The top of the tree hit the ground with a tremendous crash. The water in the river sloshed across the sandbars and up the banks. Gradually the movement subsided.
Privado Martinez made his way to the horses. Fortunately, none had broken loose in their struggles. Although hobbled, none had fallen either. They were trembling and neighing with fear. Martinez tried to soothe them, speaking reassuringly and stroking their necks. Several soldiers managed to get to their feet. Capitán Alvarez crawled out of his tent in his underwear and stood up. He saw the tree trunk which had narrowly missed smashing his tent with him inside. He crossed himself. Then the shaking started again. The soldiers staggered and swayed like drunken men. Many of them had come through storms on the passage from Spain to Veracruz. Standing on the deck of a storm-tossed ship was an easier task than keeping one's footing in an earthquake like this. The horses were lurching back and forth. Martinez found himself being jostled around in the midst of the animals, in danger of being trampled or crushed beneath a falling horse.
The quaking finally ceased and the ground stopped moving. The soldiers and officers made their way to the fire. They were all fully alert now. The air was filled with smoke and dust and steam from the spilled stew. Some of the soldiers were swearing loudly and others were praying quietly, invoking the protection of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Capitán Alvarez, normally in control of all situations, glared about. He would willingly face a thousand foes on the field of battle but the instability of the very ground beneath his feet caused him a sensation of rising panic. He could feel the goose-flesh on his arms and legs. He took a deep breath. He remembered his position and brought his emotions under control. He could not let the men sense his self-doubt and nervousness. He shouted for Martinez.
Martinez ran to the fire. "Sí, Capitán!" he said and saluted.
Capitán Alvarez demanded to know the status of the horses and mules. Martinez reported that they were all still hobbled and tied, although very skittish. Alvarez immediately dispatched six soldiers to tend to the animals.
"Muy bien, Privado," he said to Martinez, relieving him from sentinel duty. The musket was turned over to Privado Faustino, who was assigned the next watch.
Privado Martinez, although feeling extremely fatigued with his frayed nerves, remembered his hunger. Using a stick, he prodded the cooking pot, which was lying on its side in the embers. He raised it to an upright position and dragged it to the edge of the fire. There was still some liquid and beans left inside. He ladled that out onto his plate and let it sit for a few minutes. He managed to recover some pieces of bear meat from the fire and brushed off the ashes. It was a bit burnt on the outside but still edible. As soon as his food had cooled a little, Martinez sat on a rock and gulped it down. The other soldiers were standing around the fire looking out anxiously into the darkness, expecting more tremors at any moment.
Capitán Alvarez and Teniente Aguirre stood off to the side and quietly talked over the situation. Shortly afterwards, Capitán Alvarez returned to the fire and spoke with his men. "We break camp at first light," were his orders. "I want to leave this cursed place behind us, and the sooner the better. You men try to get some rest before dawn. We have a long march ahead of us tomorrow."
Privado Martinez was the only soldier who managed to get any sleep during the remainder of the night. Some of the other soldiers tried to rest on their blankets but jerked awake at the slightest noise. A couple of small aftershocks added to their tension. Martinez slept through everything.
At the first hint of grayness on the horizon, Teniente Aguirre shouted out the orders for the company to form ranks. The men who had been tending the horses and mules returned to the camp. Privado Faustino came in from guard duty and surrendered the musket to Aguirre. Faustino went over and roused Privado Martinez, who was still asleep. All the soldiers came to attention in a line near the capitán's tent where the standard of Spain was posted. Sycamore limbs littered the ground nearby. Capitán Alvarez, smartly dressed in his uniform, spoke to his men briefly as the sun rose behind him. He stated his intention to make up for the time lost during the previous day's march. The Indians straggled over while he was talking. They all looked tired and frightened. Fray Guillen led the morning prayers. The soldiers knelt with bowed heads and crossed themselves. Most of the Indians also knelt and crossed themselves in imitation of the soldiers' motions. Viejo Mateo hung back and stood behind a tree. Capitán Alvarez, who had been kneeling beside Fray Guillen, looked up and noticed that the old Indian was not participating in the prayers. He jumped to his feet and put his hand on the pommel of his sword. "You there!" he shouted at Viejo Mateo. "You shall pray as well, by God!" Everybody, Spaniards and Indians, turned to look at Viejo Mateo. He timidly got down on his knees and awkwardly made the sign of the cross on his chest. Fray Guillen resumed the prayers.
When the prayers were terminated, Capitán Alvarez gave the orders to water the horses and mules as quickly as possible and then load them up for the journey ahead. The stream had ceased to flow during the night and the animals had to find water in the few stagnant pools left in the watercourse. A couple of soldiers dismantled the capitán's tent and folded it up, to be loaded on the sick mule tethered to Martinez' horse. In less than half an hour the troop began its march. No food had been served to the soldiers. They would have to eat biscuits as they marched and drink from their water skins.
Not long after the Spaniards departed from the encampment, a great condor glided out of the sky and landed beside the carcass of the huge bear. The condor surveyed the site for signs of danger. Satisfied that it was safe, the condor began to tear off large pieces of bear flesh with its strong beak. Several other condors descended to join in.
The Spaniards continued on in silence, across the valley floor to the wooded slopes. The soldiers shared their capitán's desire to leave this treacherous part of the territory far behind them. The march progressed at a good pace all morning, over the hills and down into another grassy valley. The wounded mastiff could not keep up and eventually lay down beside the trail, where it died. The Spanish explorers continued north, searching for the port of Monterey and marking the trail for the others coming after them.