El Estado Dorado

Part 1, Chapter 1
1.

Late Summer 1579

Eastern Pacific (Off modern-day Astoria, Oregon)

The wind was shrieking through the rigging as the ship fought its way in a northerly direction against the tide. Rain swept the deck which was awash in foam as the bow crashed through waves higher than the forecastle.

The Golden Hind had gone farther north even after being becalmed in fog days earlier. The crew had seen it as an omen but Captain Drake had wanted to proceed in hopes of finding better winds for the Pacific crossing that they were planning. That had been merely the latest of the ill omens that had plagued this voyage since the start. They had lost ships in the Atlantic crossing, then there was the execution of Thomas Doughty and the passage around Cape Horn. Only the Pelican, renamed the Golden Hind had made it into the Pacific.

Things had gone well for a while. They had captured a pair of Spanish treasure ships and with them a staggering wealth but that was when they had the classic privateer’s problem, getting back to port to spend it when port was half a world away. Drake had attempted to find one last Spanish ship but had turned north when it failed to materialize. They had landed on a wild shore somewhere north of the area claimed and controlled by the Spanish where they had been able to careen the ship, do necessary repairs and take care of the provisioning.

Then the good time had ended with the fog. The crew was aware of the nearby coastline, that it was a dark and oppressive with trees growing down nearly to the tideline and the storm which had sprung up nearly without warning and the visibility around the ship vanished.

“Land Ho!” Came a cry a cry from the crow’s nest. The crew became aware of the sound of surf crashing ahead of them where it had been to their right before. The heading had not changed, so that meant that the unknown coastline had played a surprise on them. The helmsman attempted to bring the ship about but the wind and tide perversely pushed her in the direction that she had been attempting to make headway in before. The crew fought a desperate battle to save the ship as it skewed around sickeningly in the troughs between the waves. Inch by inch they worked before rounding a cape as the jagged rocks sent sprays of water skyward just a few hundred yards away.

No sooner than they had breathed a collective sigh of relief then the next danger presented itself. The ship was blasted with the full force of the Pacific gale and they were in irons. The wind and current drove the Golden Hind aground in a place that would one day be called Cape Disappointment with the crash of breaking timber as the hull buckled and the masts snapped.

In the hours and days that followed Captain Drake was able to gether as many of his men as he could and as much as he could salvage from the wreck. The issue was that you cannot eat the tons of silver that the ship had been using for ballast and an eighty-pound golden crucifix was worthless so far from civilization. Ironically their best hope was to make their way south through the land they had attempted to claim as Nova Albion just weeks earlier to the Spanish Colonies far to the south, Nueva España by walking overland. They buried the treasure against the day when they might return. A day that never came.

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It was just one more foot note in history. An expedition that disappeared in the New World that was one of many. The Spanish forgot the man who they had dubbed the pirate El Draque. But still rumors persisted that somewhere in the far north, in the land known as California there was fortune in gold and silver that was just there for the taking. While the treasure was never found, that and the English attempt to claim the land inspired several expeditions north into what would one day become California. Behind them came an unknown number of fortune seekers, hoping to find what Spanish military could not. While none of would find pirate treasure they would find a land with wide fertile valleys and a kind climate. That this would lead to the wholesale slaughter of the natives in the region was the sort of thing that happened, no one ever claimed that these men were saints.

While it looked for a time that the region would remain a sparsely populated backwater with an agrarian economy a chance discovery in a place called Calluma changed everything…
 
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I do not understand the POD, sorry. I'm not very well versed in West American history. Still seems interesting.
 
Part 1, Chapter 2
2.


May 1729

Royal Presidio of San Diego, California

For Jesús de Santiago California was both totally alien and familiar at the same time. The place was defined by the tension between the secular and sacred as embodied by the Presidios on one hand and the Missions on the other. The power struggle that went on between the various factions of each and against each other was just one more reminder that Madrid and Rome were very far away. Jesús had already learned that if he wanted to survive he needed to remain aloof until such time as one of the powerful factions made him an offer that didn’t include getting his throat cut by another. Until then he was too small a fish to be bothered with.

As a son born on the wrong side of the sheets to a Spanish nobleman Jesús had been run off by his half-brother only hours after the death of his father. With his education and aristocratic bearing, he would still have been able to make his way in the Army of Spain as a middling Officer. But crossing the Atlantic to New Spain had had seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. And when the chance to go one step further presented itself he’d taken that as well, one of many lured by the romance that had brought so many to California over the prior century. Everyone knew the stories of the English pirates and lost treasure. Indians somewhere in the far north of California who’d been supposedly seen wearing a small fortune of silver pesos sewn onto their clothes as mere decoration.

Those stories had always come up empty but they had drawn adventurers into the region for more than a century. Everyone had been convinced that they would be the one to find that fortune but eventually got the consolation prize of land that might one day prove profitable or as Jesús learned, California was truly the far edge of the chessboard. A Teniente like him had about the same authority as a General back in Spain might.

Jesús heard the sound of the heels of his boots on the plank walkway as he strode from the Colonel’s office to the right of the Capitán. Like seemingly everything else in this country, the buildings were made of mud brick covered in plaster with deep overhangs to prevent the buildings from dissolving during the rainy season. Finally, it was good news, the Capitán had gotten orders sending them north of Alta Vista to Sonoma to establish a military garrison. It was a move that would diminish the power of Mission San Francisco Solano which was already entrenched in the region. It was rumored that the Bishop was furious about this but not even he was powerful enough to challenge the Governor General of the Provence. The expected result would be a new round of Mission building and always the military would be right behind.

The hundred odd men were waiting in the dusty parade ground doing what soldiers always did when they thought no one was looking. As little as possible. Most of them, even the Capitán himself, were third or fourth generation Mexicans or Californios. To them Spain was the distant place that their Grandfather might have come from but might as well be on the moon, the odds of them ever going there were about the same. It had been a surprise when Jesús had learned that the men referred to him as a Spanish Gentleman, he knew that he was anything but that. It was his first clue that no one cared what he’d been before he’d arrived in California. The Capitán had told him that one day he would own a massive spread of land and have a Casa that would put anything his half-brother had to shame if he didn’t get himself killed first. That was the truth of this place, there were fortunes to be had here. One just had to be willing to work for them. But there were other considerations in the meantime…

Jesús watched as the men scrambled to get into formation as the Capitán came into view. The Sargentos yelling at them to get in line. They were irregulars for the most part, only the Sargentos or the odd Cabo having actual uniforms. The rest wore clothes of the rough undyed homespun that might as well have been.

When the Capitán announced that they were headed north to Sonoma they were understandably excited. It was said that the region the settlement was located in was a lot like Northern Spain and would be easy duty aside from Indians and Priests. Jesús doubted that they would be nearly so eager when it sunk in that it would mean several days at sea followed by many more walking with a pike or musket slung over their shoulder.
 
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Oh my, that's got staggering implications given just how much that benefited the English treasury.

One wonders if Protestantism is much weaker ITTL, especially since England has far more debt.
 
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