Fr. Phil and I went for a walk this morning. It was the first time we have ever done that, and was probably the last. At least one priest is supposed to be at the rectory every minute of the day and night in case someone is at the point of death or in urgent need of confession. Fr. Houdek is usually somewhere else, so Fr. Phil and I rarely have a chance to go out together.
Today was different, because Fr. Ed Cole has come to take collections for the missions. He said he planned to spend the rest of the morning reading, so off we went, a couple of young priests on a sunny Monday-morning stroll.
While we walked, we talked about a good many things. Fr. Phil is eager to get a parish of his own, but thinks it will be years. I know I may get one in the next few weeks, and am not at all eager-which is not what I said to Fr. Phil.
One of the things we talked about (maybe the only important thing we talked about) was what it means to be a priest. He is focused on the priest as leader of a little community of believers. That is what he wants from his priesthood, though he did not put it like that. I am more focused on the sacred nature of the calling. "After all," I said, "a priest living alone on a desert island far away remains a priest. Does God think less of him because he has forsaken the world of men for God?"
"You ought to say, the world of people," Fr. Phil told me.
I have used the word importance, but none of this was important at all. The subject is certainly important, but we had nothing of importance to say about it. And we were both right, and both quite willing to concede that both of us were right. If Fr. Houdek had been with us, he would have focused on something else, I am sure, though I am not sure what it would be. Raising money for a new school, or administering the sacraments, or any of a dozen other things.
One thing I am sure of, now that I have had a chance to think our conversation over, it is that the thing we should focus on depends on where we are. My priest on a desert island is not in a parish. Fr. Phil's priest in a parish is not alone on an island. Fr. Luis was in a third place, and so on.
I started writing about this because of what happened at the end. Fr. Phil said something I ought to have said, and felt something I ought to have felt. We were out of character (as an actor would say), both of us. But life is not a TV series, and this was a salutary reminder of it.
We were returning to the rectory when Fr. Phil stopped and pointed to the spire of the church, raising its shining gilt cross to the clear blue sky. "Look at that, Chris! Isn't it inspiring? Every time I see it, I want to cheer."
I did not feel that way. I knew I should have, but I did not. Still, there was a little tickle of memory there for me, and I knew there had been a time when I had felt like that about something. It took me hours to recall what it was. Eventually I realized that it had hit me so hard because I am at that point in this private and probably worthless chronicle-in this, the true story about me that I tell myself each evening at the hour when all or most of the kids have gone home from the Youth Center and we are about to close. It meant a great deal to me then, as it still does. It did not speak in words, however, and I know that no words of mine can make anybody-no, not even this man in black who writes it-feel what I felt then.
When Novia and I went aboard the Castillo Blanco, we did not set out to look for the hidden woman or the hidden gold straight off. My first concern had to be for the ship itself-how well Bouton had been handling her, and how well she handled.
He was full of praise for her, though he had less for the crew Rombeau had given him.
"You don't have a pistol," I said.
"Mine are in my cabin, Captain. I did not feel one was necessary."
"You're right. You need two. Two at least. Go to your cabin and get them. Three would be better."
When he had gone Novia said, "I have mine, Crisoforo," and I told her I hoped she would not have to use them.
"First we'll explain things to them," I told Bouton when he came back with his pistols. "If we do it right, we won't have to worry about their ganging up on us. If you see anybody goofing off, smack his ass with the flat of your cutlass. If anybody hits you or pulls a knife-or if anybody even tries it-kill him. I'll be with you, and I expect you to be with me. We kill him quick, throw him over the side, and get them back to it. Capeesh? We don't give them time to talk it over."
He got the watch up to the quarterdeck rail for me. This is more or less what I said, only I said it in my second-rate French:
"Friends, we're on our way to Port Royal to sell the Rosa and her cargo. When we do there will be plenty of money for everybody."
Some of them cheered.
"We're not going to sell this ship, though. She's fast, and we're going to make her faster. Handled right, she'll bring us ten times more than she'd fetch at auction. The thing is, she's got to be handled right. We can't slug it out with a Spanish galleon, not even with the Magdelena doing most of the fighting. So we've got to be able to run, and we've got to be able to catch. Anybody want to argue with that?"
Nobody did.
"Fine. We're going to put her through some maneuvers now. Me and Bouton are going to be jumping around yelling at you, trying to get everything better and faster. If you don't like that, I don't blame you. I've been yelled at a lot, and I never liked it for shit. But those officers who yelled at me were trying to save me from drowning. If the ship wasn't handled right and fast, we were all going to drown. That's true here on the Castillo Blanco, too. We handle it right or we drown. Or hang. I'm a pirate, so I've got a noose around my neck right now. You've got a noose around yours, too, every man of you. Feel it?
"Stations now! Stations, everybody!"
After that we tacked, wore ship, and so on. We took in canvas, and we let canvas out. At first we had to yell at the men to get down when she gybed, but they caught on faster than I expected. We kept them at it until the watch was over, then we went to it with the next watch while they stayed out of the way and jeered. One of the good things was that we did not have to kill anybody.
Another good thing was that I took the wheel for the last hour or so of that second watch. I wanted to see how she answered her helm, and she drove like a sports car. What a ship! I had been shouting out the maneuvers, stand by to go about and all that. Finally I called, "Mister Bouton! Run up the black flag!"
Although he was a big, solid man, he was back up on the quarterdeck and into the signal chest like a boy, and had the flag climbing its halyard almost before I caught my breath. We had a good breeze by then, and I stood there at the wheel looking up at that flag snapping at the masthead while the whole crew cheered. I was as happy right then as I have ever been in my life.
We ate at eight bells, Bouton, Novia, and me messing together at the little table Don Jose had talked about. It was a lot better food than Novia and I had been getting, and we enjoyed it. There is nothing like warm sunshine, salt air, and a stiff breeze to give you an appetite.
Looking at all that good food, I happened to think of the fat woman back in Spain who had told me to take a walk. I asked Novia whether she had been a good cook and easy to work with. Novia said no and no, but did not want to talk about her. I would not mention it here if it had not been for what happened that night.
After dinner, Bouton and I went down for a look in the sail locker. There were studding sails for every sail on the ship, sailmaker's supplies, and a lot of spare canvas. Everything was new. As I said, I had already fallen for that ship, and just looking at her stuff made me feel good. When I went back up on deck, I got a couple of men started on a jib for one of the forestays.
Maybe here I should explain that both masts were raked. That means the foremast slanted forward and the main backward, so their tops were farther apart than their bases. Raking the masts like that meant that each could carry more sail, and that the main was less liable to kill the wind for the fore with a following breeze. It also meant that there was more rigging and more complicated rigging, and things were more likely to go wrong with it. The foremast had a stay running to the top of the lower mast and another running to the top of the topmast. We bent that first jib sail on the fore topmast stay.
After that, I took the keys to the cabins and let Bouton drill the men at the guns while we searched. The first place we looked was the cabins that had belonged to de Santiago and his wife, and Guzman and his. It seemed to me that those were the most likely places for them to have hidden their money, where they could keep an eye on it.
I know I have written before about the smallness of the cabins on ships. These were smaller than that. There are rich people with walk-in closets that are bigger than those two little cabins under the quarterdeck. I had to walk bent way over in them. Novia could stand up straight, but it always looked to me like the top of her comb was going to hit the deck beams.
There were two doors, both locked and very small and narrow, down a few steps from the main deck. One went straight into the tiny cabin that had been the Guzmans'. The other went into a hall a few steps long that was so tight my shoulders rubbed both walls. It led into the back cabin, the one that had been the de Santiagos'. That cabin was a shade bigger and had two windows. (The Guzmans' cabin only had one.) When she saw it, Novia said very firmly, "This is where we sleep, Crisoforo."
I said, "Yeah, sure," and sat down, which was a big relief after all the bending over. The little table was in that cabin, with two chairs, chests, a cabinet, and two tiny little bunks. The Guzmans' cabin had not had anything beyond bunks, a matching cabinet, and four chests, and it had been crowded just with those. "When we get to Port Royal," I told Novia, "I'm going to have that wall torn out and make one cabin for us back here."
"One door, too, Crisoforo."
"Right. One door, twice as wide as those two little ones. They must go crazy getting this table out of here."
"It folds." She showed me how, and while I did it myself she went back to looking up between the deck beams. Finally I asked what she was looking for.
"A box. A wooden box for the money and fit between the beams. It is dark up there in the spaces, no? A box the same color, not so deep as the beams. Open it, and the money is in a bag so it will not scatter. That is what I would do."
"Okay," I said, "but Senora Guzman couldn't hide up there."
"We say there is a woman. I say it, too. What if we are wrong? Suppose there is not a woman?"
"Suppose there's no box, Novia?"
"You are not helping. If there is no box, the money is elsewhere. We must burn the feet of Don Jose." She got up to feel in a corner. "You say the woman hides where the money is. Why a hiding place so large?"
"So a lot could be hidden there, I guess. Silver bars, maybe. Or silver and good dinnerware. Something like that."
Novia kissed me. "I love you, mi corazon, but you are wrong. He would put such things in a chest."
"Then let's look in those chests," I said. We did, and found a lot of clothes and a little jewelry. After that we looked in the bunks. There was a cabinet on the blank wall between the two cabins, high and wide but very shallow, a place where you could hang a few clothes out of sight, and maybe put a spare pair of shoes.
"Senora Guzman left hers out for everyone to see." Novia was holding up a necklace. "So were we told. Did you see it?"
I shook my head.
"Nor I. One of your buccaneers took it, perhaps."
I promised to ask Bouton.
If I were to detail all the places on that ship we searched, I would be sure to leave some out. Let me just say that we searched every place we could think of, and looked in a lot of them twice. We found no woman and no money.
We did not find a ghost, a curse, or a monster, either.
The wind died toward evening, and we held a little meeting in the captain's cabin of the Magdelena-Bouton, Rombeau, Novia, and me. I explained that I was going to keep the Castillo Blanco as a second ship for us, arming her with bigger guns and more of them at Port Royal and making a few other changes. Rombeau was captain of the Magdelena now, and Bouton first mate of the Castillo Blanco. I was going to be captain of the Castillo Blanco, at least until we found the woman and the money, and maybe after that.
When everything was settled, we ate, drank some wine, and sat around yarning. Novia gave Rombeau and Bouton a little Spanish lesson, and we taught them a Spanish song.
So it was way dark when we collected our sea chests, got into the tender again, and started back to the Castillo Blanco. The sea was glassy by then, and you felt you could have touched the stars with the boat pole. Bouton took the tiller, and Novia and I sat in front of him with our arms around each other.
Back on board, we said hello to Boucher, who was being officer on, and went down to our cabin for serious kissing. We were undressing when it hit me, and I froze.
"What is it, Crisoforo? You have thought of something."
Maybe I should have told Novia everything right then, but I was not sure enough to do it. What I said was "Right. I'd meant to ask Bouton about the jewelry, the stuff Senora Guzman left out. Only I forgot."
"He is asleep now, perhaps."
"Yeah. But Boucher might know."
I pulled my pants back on, told her to get back into her dress, and stuck my head out the window. "Boucher! Come down here when you've got a minute. Bring a lantern."
By the time I had run my fingers through my hair and rubbed some of Novia's cosmetics off my face, there was a knock at the door. I opened it expecting Boucher, but it was Bouton. "Someone ought to be on the quarterdeck," he said. "I heard you and came myself."
I told him he was right, which he was, and that he would be better and asked him about the jewelry.
"I did not take it."
"Okay, I believe you. Do you know who did?"
He shook his head. "No one was to touch it, although some of us touched it when we found it. That was Rombeau's order. He was sure there was something in these cabins we had not found, and locked them until they could be searched with thoroughness."
"I've got it."
"He searched them, but he found nothing and locked them again. I gave you the keys, Captain. They were locked when you came?"
Novia said, "Oui, but no jewel." She was lighting candles from the one in the lantern.
"So we've got another mystery," I said, switching to Spanish. "But the main reason I called Bouton was that I want you to try out those little brass pistols you wear. You loaded them quite a while ago, and the charges may have gone bad. Salt spray and so forth." Back to French. "You know how that is, Monsieur Bouton?"
M. Bouton looked mystified, but he nodded.
"It's the same for me. I don't think mine have been loaded quite as long as hers, but mine may not work either. We're going to use this wall between the cabins for practice-it looks solid enough. Then we'll all have some more of that wine. Go tell Boucher not to worry when he hears a few shots. Then come back down here. You can have another drink and help us test."
While he was gone, I told Novia in Spanish what I had told Bouton in French, although I knew she had probably understood just about all of it. I did all that pretty loudly, but when I had finished I got a lot closer and whispered in French: "When I leave, count to ten, not loud, before you fire."
"As you say, Crisoforo." She looked as puzzled as Bouton.
When he came back, I had her draw one of the little guns hooked to her belt. When she started to cock the hammer, I made her turn and pointed her gun out the open window. After that I left. I was barefoot already, and I tried to make it as quiet as I could. Before that little gun banged, I had the key in the lock of the other door.
The only light in there was the starlight coming through the window. I could see her just the same, a dim black shape a lot smaller than I was. I grabbed her as quick as I could, figuring she might have a gun or a knife and might use them if I gave her a chance.
As soon as I got my arms around her, I knew she was a woman, like Senora de Santiago had said, and a young one. As I hustled her out of the Guzman cabin, down the tiny hall, and into ours, I was getting all set to explain to Novia and Bouton how smart I had been.
Then Novia screamed and the woman I had been hustling along burst into tears. Her legs went limp and I let her go until she was crouched in a sad little ball in front of Novia, whimpering and sobbing.
I had slipped up once already, and that was when I slipped up again. Novia had her other pistol out, and she cocked and fired it before I could stop her. I hit her arm, though, and the bullet went wide and into the deck. The shot made the girl she had been shooting at look up, and I saw her face in the candlelight.
Even so, it took me a good minute or more to really get it through my head. This was Estrellita.
When I sort of woke up from that, I had opened a bottle and was pouring myself a glass of wine. I took it to Estrellita instead, and told Bouton-he was standing between them by then-to get her into a chair. He did, and I got Novia into the other one with a lot more trouble.
Between sobs Estrellita said, "I am sorry, Senora. So very, very sorry. God has punished me."
"I have not even begun!" I had forgotten about Novia's big folding knife, but it was in her hand.
I made both of them shut up. "I think I understand all this by now," I told them. "Maybe I even understand more than the two of you do. We'll see."
I switched to French and told Bouton, "You don't understand any of this. There's no way you could."
He shrugged the way only a Frenchman can. "An affair of the heart? I will go."
"You will stay," I told him. "I'm not sure I could manage both of them alone, and you've already seen a lot. Are you going to talk about it?"
He shook his head violently. "Not I, Captain."
"Good. We'll explain it to you. That might be the best way."
Novia's French was not bad, she could understand most of what anybody said, although she had a lot of trouble sometimes when she tried to speak it. But Estrellita did not speak a word of French, which meant I had to translate for her until I got Novia to do it. Whenever Estrellita talked, I had to translate it into French. All this stuff would get old fast, so I am not going to write it when I get back to this.