The commander knew not what to think. What should be a great port,
protected from all winds, was but an ensenada; what should be the Rio
Carmelo was but an arroyo; what should be great lakes were but
lagunillas; "and where, too, were the people, so intelligent and docile,
who raised flax and hemp and cotton?" Costanso says that in their entire
journey, they found no country so thinly populated, nor any people more
wild and savage than the few natives whom they met here. It is not
strange that Portola failed to recognize, in the broad ensenada,
Vizcaino's Famoso Puerte de Monterey.
The situation of the command was becoming very grave. The food supply
was almost gone. They had killed a mule, but only the Indians and the
Catalonians would eat it. The commander called a council of officers, on
December 6th, and told them the condition of affairs. They had not found
the port they had come in search of, he said, and had no hope of finding
it or the vessel that should have succored them; they had but fourteen
half sacks of flour left; winter was upon them, the cold was becoming
excessive, and snow was beginning to fall in the mountains.
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