~~
The dawning of the new morn brought no improvement over the previous day and night. The warmth that followed the sunlight took the chill away; but the damp never left. The moist cold was replaced by the humid heat. There was no recognition of the change, as there was no hesitation 'twixt the two extreme conditions. The result was the same: discomfort in the extreme.
The light and the heat caused bodies–once clustered for warmth–to separate and start groping and groveling around. Some were depressed, many were disoriented–all were hungry. We'd nothing to eat in a day and a half! The rumble in the stomach became a grumble in the throat. This was expressed in a clamouring for food. The pit seemed to vibrate with the roar from hungry mouths and angry hearts.
The commotion brought Spanish faces to the barred porthole. I don't know their tongue, but it would've been evident to a deaf man that they were just cursing us out, in the Spanish. A couple of our lads who could speak the Spanish were moved forward and encouraged to stress our need–our demand–for food. They babbled back and forth with the faces at the porthole for a significantly long time. When Annalea asked how we were doing, she was told, "not so well."
The Spaniards thought to mock our hunger and thus amuse themselves. I took up Orke's pike and smashed it hard against the metal bands of that porthole–nearly slashing a Spanish ear. "If I don't see food for all of us here, 'pronto,' I'll drive this pike through any Spanish face that shows at that opening! Tell the bastards that! And tell it just as I said it!"
Not long after, food and water arrived. 'Twas not palatable, but 'twas plentiful–vermin free, and edible. And the water was heavenly cool, 'though a mite brackish. The Spaniards did not open that gate; so service was annoyingly slow, as necessarily small pans of food and water were gradually slid through the opening in the porthole and passed 'round to all. And for dessert? About an hour after the "feast" had ended, we heard a clamour outside the gate–for a change. There was a rattling of wood and metal as the gate opened, stubbornly. The opening was immediately filled with the bodies of armoured Spanish soldiers, all pointing pikes into the pit. They stood, thus–stoically–for a few moments, probably awaiting our reaction. Then a figure pushed and muscled his way through this glut of Spanish military and presented hisself. 'Twas Estaban!
I stepped forward to greet the lad, commenting to him that I'd not witnessed such rigamarole since I'd been present–on one memorable occasion–for the king's entrance at the French court. But Estaban seemed not to hear me words. The lad was aghast to find us in such a condition: most buried 'neath the city walls!
"Dearest friends... I... I... I most humbly apologize for this treatment. I never imagined.... I cannot imagine.... Annalea!"
When the young lovebirds broke from their caress, Estaban looked to me and shouted, "This will not do! This will not do!"
With his arm wrapped in Annalea's arm, he moved back to the gate, and the mob of Spaniards guarding it. He attempted to shuffle through them, but they would not let him pass. Estaban shouted some Spanish at them, and they shouted some Spanish back to him!
Looking frazzled–and overheated past a boil–he returned Annalea to me side, and said, "I tender a thousand apologies for the misconduct of my people. I shall go right away, and straighten this out with the majistrado. Please be patient; I am certain it will be alright."
Me arm lunged out–as if by an instinct–and me hand clasped his throat, "Don't ever say those damned words again!"
Then I pulled him to me in an embrace and said–for his ears only, "Do what you can for Annalea, boy."
He was exasperated, and he seemed near to tears. He turned and hurriedly made his way through the Spanish soldiers: passing 'twixt and 'tween those unyielding pikes. The Spaniards–and their pikes–withdrew, and the gate slammed shut! Me eyes had come accustomed to the vast spread of sunlight that shone through the open gate. Now, 'twas instant darkness; and I was blind to me surrounds for some moments. When me eyes adjusted to the dim light from the porthole–a faint echo of what was before–I could see me people were more agitated than afore Estaban's visit.
'Twas not a considerable stretch of time afore Estaban returned. The same rigamarole ensued as when last he appeared. Eventually, he made his way through and rejoined us. By God, he looked more pale than afore! I could bear no suspense. "Lad, you've got something stuck in your craw; spit it out!"
Apologetically, Estaban related the results of his petition to the Spanish administrator. No, that Spanish administrator would not budge. He was still uncertain of Estaban–and his fantastic story. Having presented hisself as who he was–with some documents to prove it–he fabricated a story of attack and capture by pirates, and rescue by good, honest English settlers (meaning us). He enhanced this yarn with the fable about how we put ourselves through peril and storm to secure him from the clutches of the British military and navy. Apparently, the administrator found all of this ludicrous–and told him so.
As for us, he'd no doubt we were English pirates and scum–not saints and pilgrims. He told Estaban he could sense our animosity towards Spaniards, as surely as he could smell the stench of our English blood. And he would not have such English roaming about in his city–nor even polluting his jail cells. He'd be happier to fill over the pit–with us still in it!
It took awhile to settle the consternation this caused our people, to a point where Estaban could continue. He told of heated argument with the administrator: making demand after demand, and being declined time after time. He protested that his right as a Spanish subject, his family name, his father's contributions to the crown–as well as his own–and his position in the king's service entitled him to better treatment. His protests were dismissed out of hand. Finally, he insisted that if we should not be released, he must join us in the pit!
"I told him I cannot remain in a comfortable abode while mis amigos dwell in the dirt!"
I had to interrupt him. "Comfortable abode?"
"Uh, s... yes." He stammered from embarrassment. "When they separated us–and after my meeting with the majistrado–they took me to a hacienda a few miles west of here. The family who owns the property has treated me cordially, as a welcomed guest–'though I've been kept there under house arrest. I have so much shame. I had no...."
"Calm yourself, lad. No one is blaming you for any of this." And I was sincere about that. "Pray, continue. Where do we stand?"
"Well, he would not hear of me joining you in this hole. He told me he did not know whether I was a foolish young Spaniard–kidnapped and still intimidated by the English–or a Spanish traitor–who had gone over to the 'cursed' English for money, or some other recompense–but I was obviously Spanish and he would not have me consorting with the English 'scum.' Things shall remain the same, he told me, until he has reviewed everything and made his final decision about our fate."
Estaban said he was only allowed to come to us upon his promise that he would not attempt to stay there with us. He was told that if his word proved worthless, the soldiers would come into the pit and hack their ways through the English "scum," to retrieve him! He said there was, however, one consideration offered. He was told he might take "his woman"–meaning Annalea–out of there, to abide with him at the "hacienda."
"Aye, by Jesus, aye!" I could barely contain meself. "Good work, lad!"
A chorus of "ayes" filled the pit as well-wishing supporters of me girl made known their approval.
The only discord came from Annalea, herself. "Absolutely not!" She turned on Estaban. "You... you who has said he loves me: how little you know of me! Did you think that I would consider, even for a moment, leaving me people–me papa and me family–in conditions like these? Are you a fool, or just a most selfish man?!"
The tears were flowing from her eyes and she was slapping him on the chest. From behind, I reached under her arms and pulled her back. She turned 'round to me, sobbing, and I cradled her in me
arms.
Mam' began stroking her hair, and we both tried reasoning with the girl. We told her none would think the less of her for going. 'Twas, in fact, what we all wanted for her. I told her this might well be her last opportunity to be with Estaban, regardless of how events turned out.
"And... and, pet... and...." I gave her to know not to interrupt 'til I'd finished. "If the worst comes to pass, 'twould all've been for naught–meaningless, 'less one of us should survive and carry on, for all the others."
Annalea gave me a kiss, and she gave Mam' a kiss, and she turned and gave Estaban a kiss.
"None of you understand me," she informed us. "When I am separated from Estaban, I shall be heartbroken–and I shall hurt, inside. But should I be separated from me family, I would die inside. I'd rather die, completely, than to carry on–a hollow shell with no heart and no soul, and no comfort on this earth."
Those words put a number of us to weeping. Then discourse erupted about what to do–and more arguing 'bout whether Annalea should go, or Estaban should stay, or we should all make a mad rush at the Spanish guards, to gain our freedom or end this episode, once and for all! 'Twas then the captain stepped forward. Having found his voice, he put it to proper use. He stepped into the midst of the throng and commanded all to be quiet. He told us there'd be no suicidal rush on the guards. Annalea would not be forced to act against her will–or her heart. And Estaban would not attempt to remain with us.
Then he spake directly to Estaban. "Lad, you are the only device I have to get me people out and away from here, safely–with body and soul still intact. You must go back with them, regain and retain their good graces, and work diligently to establish your identity, and to convince them of your position and your honour. Only then will you be able to help us; and I shall expect you to do so. In the meantime, do not come to see us. Don't even ask about us–not even about Annalea. Feign indifference towards us. That may increase your esteem in their eyes."
Then the captain took Estaban aside, to speak privately. I could catch but fragments of their conversation.
"I have looked deep into me soul... considerations to be selfish... futile."
"But sir, this meant so much for all... the life... the community...."
"No... a different mission... for the better... in England!"
Estaban returned to Annalea. "I must go, now."
They looked upon each other as do two people in love, who realize they might never see one another again, in this lifetime. They fell into embrace. The rest of us moved away in silence, to give them their peace.
Not long after Estaban departed, it fell to darkness. Another night was spent huddled and cuddled together against the cold and damp. The captain had not wished to share with me his discussion with Estaban. But he did not return to the isolation of his thoughts, either. This time when I looked up and about for him, I spied him scrunched down 'twixt the sisters for warmth–and comfort, no doubt. He'd returned to the fold. This was a good sign.
The next few days were spent comforting one another, as best we could, and amusing ourselves, as best we could. I know it befuddled our guards to hear us chatting lively, joking and even singing. We were just glad to be alive, and–most important–still together. We even made up jokes about our own hanging, and little ditties to sing on the way to the gallows! Of course I was concerned for us all–and most fearful for Annalea. But she seemed quite mellow and content, just being with her "family."
Chapter XXIV
Vaya con Dios, Amigo