"Spaniards? That is impossible," returned Cabrillo.

"They say that they are bearded, wear clothes like yours, and have white
faces," answered the boy, simply.

"They must be mistaken, or perhaps you did not understand them fully,"
said the master. "At another time we will question them further. Now,
give them this present of beads and hurry back, for it is late."

That night some of the men from the ships went on shore to fish. While
they were drawing their nets, the Indians stole up softly and discharged
their arrows, wounding three. The boy Juan had the most serious injury,
an arrow being so deeply embedded in his shoulder that it could not be
removed until they reached the ship. There the padre, who, like most
priests of that day, knew something of surgery, drew it out, and bound
up the shoulder in soothing balsams.

On the second day of their stay in port the wind began to blow from the
southwest; the waves grew rough, and Cabrillo ordered the ships to be
made ready for the tempest, which soon became violent. Meantime, Juan
lay suffering in his hammock, which swung backward and forward with the
motion of the ship. Suddenly he heard a step beside him and felt a cool
hand on his forehead.

"How goes it, lad?" said Cabrillo, for it was the master himself. "You
are suffering in a good cause. Have courage; you will soon be well.
Remember, you have helped to discover a harbor, the like of which is
seldom found. This storm is a severe one. I can hear the surf booming on
the farther shore, yet our ship shows no strain on the anchor. Good
harbor though it is, I am sorely disappointed, as I had hoped it was the