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¡¶the right eye of the commander¡·txtÏÂÔؼò½é:

THE RIGHT EYE OF THE COMMANDERThe year of grace 1797 passed away on the coast of California in asouthwesterly gale. The little bay of San Carlos, albeit shelteredby the headlands of the blessed Trinity, was rough and turbulent;its foam clung quivering to the seaward wall of the Mission garden;the air was filled with flying sand and spume, and as the SenorCommandante, Hermenegildo Salvatierra, looked from the deepembrasured window of the Presidio guardroom, he felt the saltbreath of the distant sea buffet a color into his smoke-driedcheeks.The Commander, I have said, was gazing thoughtfully from the windowof the guardroom. He may have been reviewing the events of the...