Mission Santa Barbara
1830
– Return to The Sea
The
eight leagues from Misión
San Buenaventura to
el
Presidio del Santa Bárbara passed
quickly. Wide beaches in many places provided respite from the dust
of the highway and they found many spots
to water their mounts from streams winding their way down from the
gentle hills. Chumash often made their homes along those streams and
always offered what little they had to the travelers. In each, at
least one large Tomol
was either being worked on or laid upside down on the sand.
Unlike
the other presidios,
el
Presidio del Santa Bárbara
was set well back from the shore line. Even from a distance, they
could see the lack of maintenance, except for small building outside
the walls clearly belonging to families of the soldiers. Two
artillery emplacements sat between the shore and the main fortress,
but they also showed a distinct lack of care. No one manned the guns
and they saw one solitary artilleryman lolling under the shade of a
jacalón
with open sides. The sentry at the main gate barely recognized their
presence and both wondered if he even possessed powder and ball for
his aged musket. The patches at his elbows and knees spoke of has
lack of clothing – and probably other supplies.
“And
with these, Mexico plans to defend this territory from the Russians –
and Americans,” James muttered.
A
listless flag hung atop a pole in front of a building appearing to be
the headquarters of the company. The lack of a sentry did not
surprise them. After looping
the reins of their mounts over the hitching post, they entered to
find a clerk sleeping in a chair leaned against the wall.
“Where
is your commandant?” James growled after kicking the chair to rouse
the soldier. “Is this a military post or the local saloon?”
Fear
in his eyes, the soldier leapt to his feet and stammered, “The
lieutenant is not here, Señor.
He is, uh, occupied with military affairs.”
“More
like sleeping,” Teresa muttered loud enough for the fearful soldier
to hear. His face reddened and they both guessed she had come close
to the mark.
“And
who
asks for the commandant?” The gruff-voiced question came from an
older soldier entering the office. From the insignia, both knew him
to be a sergeant.
James
introduced themselves and explained they were on a journey of the
territory. “We wish to inform the commandant of a warning on
bandits preying upon travelers on the highway from Misión
San Buenaventura.”
“We
well know of those rumors, Señor
and have learned to pay them no heed.” He told them he was Sergeant
Salazar, further explaining that Captain de
la
Guerra y
Noriega was nominally the commandant. “As there are few duties to
perform, he utilizes
his time seeing to various endeavors here and at his rancho.
Lieutenant Domingo Carrillo is acting in his place.”
“Lieutenant?
I thought Don
Domingo was an alférez.
As well as his brother, Anastasio.”
“You
know the lieutenant, Señor?”
He
then intently listened as they told him of their presence at the
wedding of Don
José Raimundo those many years ago at Misión
San Carlos.
His jaw then dropped when he heard them tell of being but babies
during the daring trek in which the elder Carrillo had been a part.
“Jaime!
Teresa Marta! It is so good to see you again.” Lieutenant Carrillo
bustled through the main door, still making adjustments to his
hand-tailored uniform. “We had no idea you were coming.” He then
turned to Salazar and ordered him to have someone see to the animals
of their distinguished guests.
“Oh
no, Domingo, that is not necessary. We but stopped to pay our
respects before continuing on to the mission. The animals are quite
well where they are.”
“You
will at least come to my humble home, will you not?”
They
agreed and walked with Domingo through a small gate in the garrison
wall to an adobe
building somewhat larger than the others. A woman came to the door
and was introduced as Conception, the sister of Pio Pico. Several
children played in the yard and Domingo explained they were but a few
of his. His daughters, ranging from a near toddler to a girl of about
12 years, worked around the house and they learned their names to be
Maria, Angela, and Antonia.
They
could not refuse the refreshments, a Sumac tea with sweet rolls
covered with vanilla fresh from the oven in the corner of the
kitchen. Conception took Teresa off somewhere so she could refresh
herself.
Domingo
listened intently as James explained their trip – and mission. “Ah
yes, the demand for secularization of the missions. A most serious
folly.”
Those
words surprised James. “You consider it to be a folly, Domingo?”
“Of
course. Los
Indios
are in no way prepared to take over the responsibilities for mission
industries by themselves. The land will go to ruin and they will sell
themselves into peonage.”
The
ladies soon rejoined them and Conception tried her best to have them
remain with them. She was not pleased at their insistence of going on
to the mission.
“We
have also been given a task by the father prefect and that means we
must visit the mission.”
“Well
then, you will meet our presidio
chaplain, Father Mendez of the Order of Preachers.”
Both
had heard that a Dominican was serving at the presidio,
mainly due to the lack of Franciscan
friars
to perform the function.
The
mission dominated the hillside, its single tower seeming to touch the
low clouds. Unlike the presidio,
the mission shone bright with a coat of white stucco and red roof
tiles. Gardens grew profusely and they saw several orchards, some
vineyards on the hillsides, and what had to be the famous irrigation
system constructed by Reverend Father Paterna. Disciples were
everywhere in their clean white clothes and it was clear to anyone
that passed by they were happily going about their various tasks. As
it was nearing time for Vespers, James and Teresa knew them to be
caring for their own personal lives.
A
man wearing the sash designating him as mayordomo
hurried up and offered to have their animals taken to the stables. He
just grunted when they told him they would care for them but did send
two young disciples to ensure they had fodder and fresh straw.
The
Vesper bells rang and they followed the gathering moving into the
chapel. The interior was equally as beautiful as all the others they
had seen. Shrugging off the request that they take a place in the
front pews, they stayed at the back of the chapel underneath a
balcony where disciples sang the appropriate verses during the rite.
Padre
Jimeno led the prayers with the Dominican priest kneeling in an
alcove dedicated to Saint Barbara.
They
did go forward to enter the sacristy after prayers at the invitation
of the friar. He knew them both and greeted them with blessings and
hugs. He then showed them to the communal dining area where they had
a filling meal.
“The
father prefect wishes to know our feelings on secularization?” When
James showed him the scroll, Padre
Jimeno shook his head. “I cannot be clearer to Reverend Father
Sarria. It is a very bad idea and our children are not ready to
assume the duties required to keep this land
bountiful.”
During
the evening's musical interlude, they also talked to several
representatives of the mission village, to include several elders,
all of whom repeated what Padre
Jimeno had told them.
“Is
there any way the governor can be dissuaded from this course of
action?”
“I
do not believe so, husband. As Don
Domingo
told us, those in Mexico are determined to take the mission lands
from the friars. I also believe they well know the disciples are
unready and cannot do what is necessary.” Seeing Teresa's
questioning eyes, he added, “It is but a ploy to turn mission lands
over to those who support the new government and strengthen Mexico's
hold upon the territory.”
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