Chapter 5: Between Here and There
The first order of business was to find food. Sebastian searched around the hut and found ingredients to make a fresh pot of soup. He fairly gorged himself on fresh bread – the first soft bread he had tasted since leaving Spain – and felt much better, if not a little overly full. When he could eat no more, he wrapped several loaves in a cloth.
I’ll need something to carry that in, he thought. But when saw a knapsack on a shelf in the hut and reached for it, he realized that he would have to dress the knife wound in his shoulder before gathering anything else. He found clean water, but no bandages or wraps. At least it was a shallow cut; he prayed against infection.
Then came the problem of what to do with nine pirates and two traitors. He sat and stared at them for a long time, first looking at one pirate, then another, then at the Santa Clara still anchored at the dock, and then at all the items they had brought ashore. It was obvious that they were expecting somebody, perhaps a buyer for their stolen goods. More pirates? When would they arrive?
He decided to get rid of the nine pirates by loading them into the other dinghy from the Santa Clara. Was it possible for one boy to captain a ship all alone, especially the sort of boy who hadn’t really paid attention to what the sailors were doing? If not, was there any other way to get his furniture and livestock all the way to Asunción?
He would keep the oars and push the dinghy into the bay. It would be hours before they woke up, and it might give him time to escape with his furniture and livestock. He boarded the Santa Clara and easily dropped the dinghy to shore.
After hauling the smallest, skinniest of the pirates into the dinghy, however, he knew he would need help loading the rest. Especially the pirate cook, who weighed as much as three men.
“Santino, Rodrigo, I need your help,” he announced, walking straight to the tree where the men were securely bound.
Both of them looked exhausted. They had been beaten severely and were bleeding from their wounds. Neither looked as if they had any fight left in them.
“I need you to do some work for me. In exchange for your labor, I’ll give you some water and some soup.” He pulled the gags off their mouths and waited for their words.
Santino licked his parched lips. “The soup has the sleeping potion in it.”
“I know,” he replied. “It’s your choice. I’m leaving this area soon and I don’t think you’ll survive alone, tied to a tree.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to help load the pirates into the little boat. When they’re all in, you two can join them. Then I’ll give you the water and soup.”
“But we’ll fall asleep! That doesn’t help!”
“Like I said, it’s your choice. You’ll all be in the boat, sleeping, and chances are that when the pirates wake up, they’ll kill you. Of course, they could let you live and make you pull their boat by swimming. Weren’t they going to kill you anyway?”
Neither Santino nor Rodrigo answered.
“This way, you can at least jump overboard when you wake up. But I can’t have you following me.”
“Sure, we’ll help you,” said Santino, and gestured for Rodrigo to agree.
Sebastian guessed their intentions. “No, don’t try to escape.” He patted a belt filled with two pistols he had collected from the pirates. “I’ve grown up in the last two days. I’m not afraid to use these.” He stooped, picked up a large shell, and threw it in the air. He aimed one of the pistols and pulled its trigger. The seashell exploded into a white puff of dust against the brilliant blue sky. “Well?”
“Lucky shot,” said Santino.
Sebastian shrugged. “This is a multi-shot, wheel-lock pistol, which makes it self-igniting so it only takes one hand to shoot. That’s new technology, and expensive, even for the military. Which means you probably stole it off some captain or admiral somewhere. Which means you’re not only traitors, you’re probably murderers, too. If I didn’t need your help, I’d serve justice on you right now. But I’m giving you a choice. So?”
Santino saw that the boy was deadly serious. He hesitated, then nodded. “You’re in charge.”
Sebastian untied them, then tossed them the key to their chains. “Unlock yourselves,” he said, pointing his weapon at them.
They did so, and then began the difficult task of loading the remaining pirates. It took all their effort – and split open some healing wounds – to load the cook into the tiny boat, but they managed. When they were done they waited for Sebastian to tell them what to do next.
“Climb in,” he said, “and I’ll bring you water and soup.” He backed away slowly, never taking his eyes from them for an instant, and filled one bowl with soup and one pewter mug with water. He placed the water and bowl several paces away from the boat, then backed up again. “One of you come get it. Share with the other one.”
Santino, figuring that Rodrigo might drink all the water without sharing, got out of the boat and walked toward the food. As he did so, Rodrigo jumped into the shallow water and ran away. Sebastian took careful aim at Rodrigo’s leg and fired his pistol, surprising himself with his controlled calmness.
Rodrigo dropped, clutching his leg in pain and howling like an angry wolf.
“Go help him into the boat,” said Sebastian, gesturing with other pistol, which was still loaded. “And don’t try anything.”
Santino nodded, new respect in his eyes.
Rodrigo’s wound barely tore the muscle, although the blood made it seem much worse. Still, Sebastian had not been aiming to kill, only to disable. He hated the thought of killing anything – even the livestock his family raised for food. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and he kept the gun trained on them while they ate their stew.
Just before they nodded off to the land of slumber, Santino looked directly at Sebastian. “Thank you,” he said.
Sebastian’s aim wavered. “I should have just killed you. You’ve stolen everything I own, and there’s no way I can get it all to Asunción now.”
“It’s what I do,” Santino said, offering no apologies. “But thank you for sparing my life. If ever I can do you a good turn…” His words became slurred and then his eyeballs rolled back in his head.
Sebastian shoved the pistol into his belt. He made sure, just one more time, that the pirates had some flasks of water, and then he kicked the boat as far as it would go. The waves rocked the boat further and further away from the shore.
By the time he finished securing the pirates, he realized that there were only a few hours left until nightfall. He panicked at the thought of other pirates on their way to take the plunder on the beach. But what he had told Santino was true; there was no way he could carry it all to Asunción without the ship.
He wished now that he had paid closer attention to Captain Ramirez’s words about how to sail the Santa Clara, but it would have done no good anyway. One person, especially a sea-ignorant lad, could not sail the caravel. It took a minimal crew complement of three. The furniture would have to stay.
But the animals? They could walk, couldn’t they? They should be able to go where Sebastian could go, provided that he went slowly enough and was able to feed them decent food. The horses would have no trouble; they were used to walking long distances in harsh conditions. But the bull and the pigs and goats had always lived in a comfortable, grassy area. Now they would be traveling over uneven terrain and through the jungle. Anything could happen to them. And of course the chickens would have to be carried. Could he do it? Could he get them all safely to Asunción?
Tonight, no. Tonight he had to rest, and eat, and rebuild his strength. Although new pirates could well be on their way, Sebastian knew that he would not be able to continue his journey if he did not take care of himself. He felt powerless without the sleeping potion; if the new pirates captured him, he had no tricks left to use. It was a nagging thought, one that caused him nightmares, until he finally drifted into such a deep slumber th
at not even the violent thunderstorm that night could wake him.