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wondered. The woman wore a large faded T-shirt and jeans, and had a long braid of salt-and-pepper hair down to her waist. Cody wasn’t sure, but she thought they were the same two she’d seen when she’d gotten off the bus. As Cody walked by, she felt their eyes on her, and it creeped her out. She moved along quickly.
    As she reached the altar, she noticed the soft light from the stained-glass windows made the chapel appear to glow, giving the intricate Spanish artwork an iridescent look. She wondered who had carved the figures and created the paintings. Missionaries? Indians? Professional artists? She looked down andsaw a large rectangular slab in the stone floor, with a portrait at the far end.
In memory of Father Junipero Serra?
she wondered.
    The students were led past a tiny room with discolored adobe walls, a stone floor, and a lone shuttered window. Inside sat a hard wooden bed, a wooden desk, a chair, and little else. Cody wondered if this was where one of the missionaries lived. How difficult it must have been for them, without all the comforts she and her friends had today.
    Farther down the hallway they peered into another room, this one completely different from the one they’d just viewed. This room was twice the size and was filled with bookcases, chairs, a desk, artwork, and a fireplace. A simple candle chandelier hung from the wood-slatted ceiling. A colorful throw rug covered most of the tile floor. But Cody was most impressed by the number of books the shelves held. This had to be the mission’s library. A quick look at the sign confirmed her guess.
    Finally, they reached the main museum building. The room offered a glimpse into the past, withdisplays of rusty tools, tattered clothing, yellowed documents, broken beaded jewelry, and chipped cooking utensils. Cody found the jewelry especially interesting and wondered if the necklaces and bracelets were valuable. They had to be, securely enclosed in their cases.
    â€œAhoy, mates!” came an accented voice from across the room. Cody turned to see an older man with a red beard and sailor’s cap standing in an alcove at the back of the museum. She sidled up closer until she could see his freckled face clearly. He wore an antique-looking sailor’s uniform to match his cap, reminding her of the pirates she’d read about in
Treasure Island
.
    â€œHe looks like Popeye,” Matt the Brat said.
    â€œI heard that!” the old sailor man said. “I don’t likes me spinach!”
    The students laughed at the funny interpretation of the cartoon character.
    â€œGreetings, students from Berkeley Cooperative Middle School,” he continued in his odd accent. Cody guessed he was either British or Australian,with a heavy dose of pirate on the side.
    â€œMe name is Chad Bour—you can call me Chad. I’m an Aussie sailor from the land down under. This here uniform—we call it a naval rig, not a sailor suit—is a real imitation of an authentic replica of the ones made in the 1800s, and worn by all able rates and leading hands.”
    Cody enjoyed his funny way of talking. She studied the outfit, which resembled the modern sailor’s dress uniform—all white with a blue collar, three stripes on the lapels, and, of course, bell-bottom pant legs.
    Chad caught Cody staring at the hems of his pants. A pair of cowboy boots were sticking out from underneath.
    â€œLike my bell-bottoms, do ye, lassie? We wear our hems wide so we can roll them up when we have to scrub the decks.”
    Cody wanted to ask about the boots, but figured she couldn’t get a word in edgewise with this fast-talking character.
    â€œAnd this here is a lanyard.” Chad held up anintricately tied cord that was looped around his neck. A key dangled from the end of it. “Lanyards were used to hold things, like matches to fire the cannons and knives for defense. I keep a key to the museum in mine so I won’t lose it. Later