Let’s
bring things up to date - at has been almost a month.
Julián
de Mayorga, having left a privileged family in
Toledo, Spain, finds himself far away in Loreto, the center of
Antigua California,
as it will someday be known. He is now a missionary of the Society of
Jesus in that furthermost frontier of New Spain. Never of strong
health, he has suffered months on a creaking, leaky ship sailing back
and forth as it struggled north from Acapulco to Loreto with
much-needed supplies.
Canyon
to San Javier
He
meets the priests who will lead him in his new calling and, in spite
of his illness, is set to work assisting Brother Coadjutor Bravo in
inventorying and sorting
the much-needed supplies brought on the ship. And then, he receives
the shocking news that Father Visitador
[Inspector] Salvatierra, the head of the missions, is sending him
with supplies to Misión San
Francisco de Viggé.
The time ashore, a
few meals he is able to keep down, and working in the storehouse
restores some of Father Mayorga's strength. Although shaken to the
core by seeing naked native females, he is resigned to seek guidance
from The Lord in helping him carry out his calling.
One of the
converts, un ganadero, or
drover, prepares six mules to carry packs of supplies through the
wilderness. A young soldier, Francisco
María
José de Castro, is assigned by Captain Rodriguez to escort he and
the mule train to the mission.
“How old are you,
my son?”
The
youth braces himself and replies, “I am seventeen years of age,
reverend father. I was born in Villa
de Sinaloa
and my father is a soldier. He taught me what he knows and supported
my desire to come here and serve The Lord in this land.”
Mayorga
sighs, crosses himself, and begins to finger his prayer beads in a
Rosary after mounting a mule. The soldier rides a horse, a second one
tied to the last mule in the train. He is well-armed with a tall
lance, a sword, a musket, and two pistols. Mayorga instantly wonders
why such a show of arms is necessary. Did not Brother Brave tell him
the natives were not hostile? And certainly did not possess weapons
to be feared by he or the soldier?
There
is no road. Not even a trail he can recognize. They ride in the
middle of a dry riverbed until rocks make them move up the hillside
into plants with thorns and stickers everywhere.
Having
suffered greatly from the heat in his heavy wool cassock, he
appreciates its thickness as it protects him from plants reaching out
to draw blood. He also notes the heavy leather protector of the
horse's neck and forelegs ridden by Francisco Castro. He also notes
the long leather leg coverings he heard called chaparreras.
They
ride. And ride. Up and down hillsides. In and out of the riverbed
that appears as if never a drop of water ever flowed in it.
He
is surprised when he comments on that, how quickly the young soldier
responds. “Reverend father, in this land, one must always look
ahead at the sky. It may happen many leagues from here, but a heavy
downpour will cause the riverbeds to fill beyond the height of a
horse.” He then points to markings along the wall of the riverbed,
explaining that is how high the water flows – faster than a horse
can run.
“If
one does not climb to a safe height, death is certain in the flood.”
What
other terrible dangers does this land hold? Mayorga crosses himself
and continues his Rosary with an intensity he has not felt for some
time.
They
leave the riverbed as the sun lowers in the west and the soldier
indicates where they are to make a dry camp. Mayorga notes that the
Indian drover has led the mules to some low trees and bushes,
surprised when they happily munch on leaves and strange balls of
plants.
“It
is called ball moss for its shape, reverend father. And the trees are
acacia, something they also enjoy eating.” He then turns to
gather dry wood, forming a pit by surround it with rocks that the
priests helps him gather. With flint and steel, Castro quickly starts
the fire. As the only water they have is carried on their animals,
there is no thought of brewing anything. As it turns out, the fire is
simply to heat tortillas
brought from Loreto to eat with dried beef strips.
“This
charki de carne de vaca
is something you will become very tired of, reverend father. These
strips of dried beef are our staple in the field – and at the
missions.”
It
grows late and Mayorga has no idea where he is going to bed down for
the night. The ground is nothing but rocks, pebbles, and thorny
plants. So, it is with great interest that he watches Castro carry
his bed roll, saddle blanket, and saddle down to the river bed.
Taking
it as a cue, Mayorga follows and copies the soldier as he digs a
shallow hole in the sand still hot from the sun. The saddle blanket
goes over the hole and he places the saddle at one end of it. The bed
roll is to cover him during the night. “It becomes unusually cold
at night, reverend father, and one must cover up.”
They
return to the fire and Mayorga sees the driver sitting with his back
to one of the towering saguaros,
his wide-brimmed sombrero
over his eyes, his serape
wrapped around him.
“This
can be a cruel land, reverend father. There is little water and we
have not yet learned the tricks the Cochimi use to quench their
thirst. Few plants are edible and a wide variety of creatures roam
the land that bite and sting.”
“It
is what The Lord calls us to do, my son. There is a path He has set
before us and we must gird ourselves to follow it.”
Castro
crosses himself and, after adding several more sticks to the fire,
continues his Rosary.
It
is only when the sun kisses the hills to the west that Castro
carefully covers the fire with rocks and walks down to the river bed.
Mayorga follows and discovers the reason for the shallow hole. It is
to accommodate his shoulder. He tries not to sleep, spending every
hour in prayer and contemplation. But, the day has been most
difficult and his eyes close against his will.
They
crest a pass and Father Mayorga looks down to see an unusual sight. A
church of sun-dried bricks with white stucco
on the walls and thick thatch upon the roof sits near what appears to
be a small creek. He also spies a ditch carrying water to a garden
and some trees next to the chapel.
Drawing
nearer, the priest realizes the buildings are not of sun-dried bricks
but stone held together by adobe
mud. That makes sense as the entire countryside is covered in rocks
and stones and boulders.
A
man in a black robe is bending over in the garden with two others in
white plants and blouses. When someone spies the supply train and
calls out, the priest stands erect and slaps his hands together to
remove the dirt. He shades his eyes and then waves.
“Welcome,
brother. I am Juan de Ugarte. You are new to this land.”
It
was clearly not a question. Mayorga quickly introduces himself and
tells how he was assigned to accompany the supplies.
“You
and young Castro are most welcome here. We badly need these
supplies.”
The
mules are led to a stone building next to the chapel. One is clearly
where Father Ugarte lives and Mayorga wonders where his escort is.
When he asks, Ugarte explains his soldier is in the hills seeking
cattle run off by a band of unconverted Cochimi. “I do not expect
him to return for several days.”
The
mules are unloaded and Mayorga discovers that one half of the
building is a storehouse with a big lock on a door to which Ugarte
has the key tight to the belt around his middle. The sun stands high
in the sky when they finish unloading and setting the supplies
inside. Castro speaks of returning to Loreto right away but Father
Ugarte denies it. “You will spend the night here and start off in
the morning. That way you will not have to make a dry camp on your
return.”
Mayorga
clearly notes the absolute subservience the soldier shows the padre.
Mayorga
spends the afternoon assisting Ugarte sort the supplies, not failing
to note a surprising number of bolts of white cotton. All the while,
he pays careful attention to the man responsible for the California
Pious Fund and who had come to Loreto in 1701. When he tells about
driving off the Cochimi who had forced Father Piccolo to flee,
Mayorga easily believes it as his impressive size strikes fear into
the heart of any foe.
During
a meal of beef roasted on a fire with the usual frijoles y
tortillas, he is surprised when
Father Ugarte spoons some small green cubes onto his plate. “It is
nopal, brother. The
leaves of a cactus we call a prickly pear for the fruit it produces.
It keeps the escorbuto
away.”
Mayorga
assists at the evening prayers and then spends several turns of the
hour glass kneeling before la Virgen María, seeking
forgiveness for his sins and weaknesses. When he prepares to bed down
for the night, he finds his saddle, blanket, and bedroll on a cot.
Castro already asleep while Father Ugarte busily makes notes at a
small table with a candle lighting the page of his mission journal.
His
eyes close once again against his will.
