Dawn and the Dons/A "NOBLE HARBOR"
CHAPTER II
A “NOBLE HARBOR”
UNDER a spreading oak, on the crescent shore of an uncharted sea, eighteen years before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, Church and State united in a solemn ceremony that added a rich and distant land to the Spanish Empire. The brilliant rays of a December sun were reflected by the waters of a newly discovered harbor, bordered by the flora of an eternal spring. Back of this harbor, interspersed with green meadows and picturesque canyons, lay undulating hills, crowned with towering pine and sturdy oak, embellished with a rare and beautiful cypress, and ornamented with ever blossoming flowers. It was the Harbor of Monterey. It was Sebastian Vizcaino who unfurled Spain’s banners, and Father Ascension said mass. The day was December 16, 1602.
Spain had for some time felt the need of a frontier guard for her Pacific possessions. Cortes had invaded the land of the ancient Aztecs, and had presented the rich and broad domain of Mexico to his sovereigns of Leon and Castile. Magellan had sailed across the Pacific and had added the Philippine Islands to the Spanish Dominions. Cabrillo, in a vain search for the Strait of Anian, had discovered and given Spain the far flung shore line of California. These were Spain’s Pacific jewels, to guard which she desired to advance her frontier northward along the Californian coast to a point where Spanish settlement and occupation would afford some measure of protection against the movements of rival nations.
The need for just such protection had become abundantly apparent. Sir Francis Drake, with at least the tacit consent of his British sovereign, sailed across the Atlantic, through the Straits of Magellan, and into the Pacific in 1579. Drake’s ship, the Golden Hind, was most sump DRAKE tuously and luxuriantly fitted out and supplied, and Drake himself, clad in gorgeous dress, assumed a lordly air. This was largely to impress the people he should encounter.
Drake’s purposes were two-fold; to prey upon Spanish commerce, and to lay the foundation for British territorial expansion. After plundering Spanish towns and ships, and filling his own ship with accumulated treasure, he sailed northward along the Californian coast, and on June 17, 1579, landed at what is now known as Drake’s Bay, some twenty-six miles north of San Francisco Bay. Here he tarried thirty-six days, and on foot, explored much of the adjacent country.
He made friends with the natives, called the country he visited Nova Albion—New England—and set up a monument claiming it for Queen Elizabeth. He sailed from Drake’s Bay on July 23, 1579, and on the following day stopped at the Farallone Islands, leaving after a day’s stay, without discovering, or even suspecting, the presence of San Francisco Bay. Then he sailed for home, through the Straits of Malacca, and around the Cape of Good Hope, reaching England September 26, 1580.
Drake’s representations to the Queen were such that Elizabeth determined to add his Nova Albion to her territorial possessions, and to that end, a royal document was drawn up in hername, conferring the governorship of this newly discovered country upon Drake, allowing him a tenth of the profits from commodities taken thence to England, and reserving to herself a fifth of all gold and silver found in this New England.
Again the lure of gold, and the lust of Empire.
There were other contributing causes to Spanish awakening, such as Dutch and F rench gestures toward the Pacific. But Spain was especially aroused by Drake’s buccaneerings, and by England’s contemplated colonization of California. England’s designs had leaked out in London, and had been transmitted to Madrid by the Spanish representatives at the English Court. Because of political complications in Europe, and impending war with Spain, Queen Elizabeth abandoned these plans, for a time, but this was not immediately known at Madrid,
and after much discussion and delay, Philip III, then King of Spain, issued in 1599 an imperative order that the coast of California should be explored, and a suitable point found for a settlement and colonization. Another consideration moving Spain was a desire for a harbor of refuge on the Californian coast for her Manila galleons. Once each year, a lone galleon made its way across the Pacific from Mexico to the Philippines, to return rich laden with the products of those tropical isles and the nearby lands of the Orient. Spain very much desired to foster and encourage this infant child of commerce as an aid in uniting and developing her distant possessions on the Pacific, or South Sea, as it was
then called. The better mentally to picture the situation, it must be remembered that in those days, aside from the lone, annual galleon, and at rare intervals, some adventurous piratical craft, the great ocean never bore a sail.
These galleons, on their homeward journey from the Philippines, because of prevailing winds and the ocean current now known
as the Japan current, sailed some-
what northerly from the Philippines and reached the American
coast far north of their Mexican port, some-
times as far as our present Cape Mendocino, which is ‘some distance above San Francisco Bay. The Spanish authorities wanted to find a safe and suitable harbor of refuge for these galleons in this northern latitude. Still another, and by no means minor, consideration
that moved Spain to renewed California activity was her desire to find the elusive Strait of Anian. Spain knew of England’s energetic search for a northwest passage across
the American continent, and feared the Pacific
rivalry that might ensue from its discovery. Hence her desire to anticipate such a discovery by herself finding a direct waterway across America to her Pacific possessions. Moved by these combined considerations, and acting
under an imperial order from Spain, the Viceroy of Mexico fitted out an expedition to sail up the California coast in search of the Strait of Anian, to find a harbor of
refuge for returning galleons, and to search out a point suitable for settlement and colonization. This expedition consisted of two hundred picked men under the command
of Sebastian Vizcaino, a man of rather superior
native ability, who had risen in a few years from a humble pearl fisher to a bold and successful navigator. With him were associated several Carmelite friars, the leader of whom was Father Antonio de la Ascension, for
in those days in all Spanish undertakings, Church and State went hand in hand. The adventurers sailed from — Acapulco, on the west coast of Mexico, May 6, 1602, in
two small sailboats, and two smaller adjunct boats, and made their way slowly up the coast, stopping at intervals to inspect the shore. On these occasions they met many natives, whose astonishment and curiosity were aroused by these strange, white visitors and their odd craft.
They met with no hostile demonstrations, however, and while passing through what is now known as the Santa Barbara Channel, encountered a tribe of Indians that appeared to desire friendly relations. An old Indian chief came out from shore in a primitive sort of boat, and tried to persuade Vizcaino and his men to visit his, village. As a great and final inducement, the old chief said he would give each of the men ten women. Vizcaino, however, could not see his way clear to the acceptance of this generous hospitality, and sailed
northward until, on December 16,
1602, he discovered what he char-
acterized as a “Noble Harbor. Here they made a landing, and under a large oak that stood near the water’s edge—an oak destined to play an important part in later Californian history—the ceremonies were performed that gave the new land to Spain, and placed an enduring name on the harbor and its bordering country. To honor the Viceroy. of
Mexico, the Count of Monterey, Sebastian Vizcaino called his "Noble Harbor” Monterey.
Vizcaino spent nearly three weeks exploring the region round about, and he became highly enthusiastic over his newly discovered harbor and its beautiful background. He found that his “Noble Harbor” was on the northern side of a peninsula that projected seaward several miles, and whose delightful climate, scenic beauty, fertile soil,
and rich verdure he described in glowing terms in his report to the Viceroy of Mexico. He referred to the ‘‘infinite number of very large pines, straight and smooth,
fit
for
masts andspars,” and to “oaks of a prodigious size, proper for building ships.” Those were the days of the small, wooden
sailing vessels. He referred to the abundance of beautiful flowers. He spoke of shell fish, water fowl
and a variety of wild game. He seemed greatly impressed with the friendly attitude of the natives. He was enthusiastic about the climate. The month was December, but the days were those of balmy spring. In his local explorations, Vizcaino discovered a beautiful valley some five miles distant from the harbor where his ships lay anchored, through whose verdant and flower-bedecked meadows ran a stream that poured its clear waters into the Pacific, on the southern
side of
the peninsula. He named this stream Rio Carmelo— Carmel River—in honor of the Carmelite friars who had accompanied him, which name it still retains, and near
which, in the beautiful Carmel Valley, the great Serra
later established the Mission that became his headquarters—where he now sleeps. Vizcaino sailed back to Mexico elated with his success. He made an elaborate official report to the Viceroy of Mexico,
in which he dwelt with much detail upon the maritime advantages of the newly discovered harbor and the _ resources of the adjacent country. In the meantime, however, the Count
of Monterey had been succeeded as Viceroy by the Marquis de Montesclaros, and it was to the latter that Vizcaino made his elaborate and enthusiastic report. Now it happened that the new Viceroy had some plans of his own by which he expected personally to profit, and which were not in harmony with the Monterey project. Montesclaros forwarded Vizcaino’s report to Madrid, where it created a favorable and a profound impression, but exercising his power as Viceroy, and justifying his course by plausible representations to his home government, he proceeded to carry out his own selfish plans. This he was able the more easily to accomplish because of political and war clouds that were then hanging over Europe, to which the Spanish government was giving grave and earnest attention. Thus Monterey went to sleep, to be awakened a century and a half later by the imperial pronunciamentos of Gaspar de Portola, and the pious prayers of Junipero Serra.