The sun is high in the sky when Angelina finally places my hat on my head with a hard push. “There, it is finished. Do you like it?” she asks.
I feel how the hat keeps the sun off my shoulders and neck. “Yes,” I say. “How do I look?”
Angelina giggles. “You look funny.”
I reach out and tickle her. “And how will you look when yours is finished?” I ask.
“I will look beautiful,” she says, wiggling and laughing on top of the coconuts until I stop tickling her.
As Angelina works to finish her own hat, I keep carving holes. I space the holes the length of my opened hand apart. It is hard to work with the machete and also steer the cayuco. “I am almost done,” I tell Angelina.
She still does not understand what I am doing, but she is excited because she knows it is something important for her. She watches with big eyes as I take the plastic rope I have found and push it through all the holes. Soon the plastic guard is tied to the deck. I know that now I will have to crawl over the guard to raise the sail. I slap the piece of barrel and push on it with my arms. It does not move. What I have done is good, but the next storm will be the true test.
Around me the waves build for the afternoon storm. Quickly I pull the bag of candy from my pocket. I give one to Angelina and I eat one myself. “Look, Angelina,” I say. “We have played our game very well today. Now I can lower the sail without crawling over the deck. If a wave washes across the boat, it does not come inside. And you have made very good hats.”
“And today I did not let any pigs into the cayuco,” Angelina tells me.
“No, you did not let pigs into the cayuco,” I say, laughing.
15
PIRATES
IT IS THE MIDDLE of the afternoon when the storm begins to build. A faint shoreline appears to the west. Also there is an island two kilometers north and east of me as I will sail into this storm. I am tired, but I will be even more tired when I cross the Gulf of Mexico. There, the waves and winds will be much stronger. It is important for me to know if the cayuco is strong enough. Also I need to know if I am strong enough.
Angelina crawls under the deck and pulls both hats under with her. The ropes are ready to take the sail down. I am tired but I, too, am ready.
Soon the rain begins. The wind blows strong, kicking water off the tops of the waves. The piece of plastic barrel I have tied in place works. The spray hits the barrel guard and flows around the side into the ocean again. Always I must fight with the paddle to keep the cayuco straight. “Do not crawl very far under the deck,” I tell Angelina. “You must be close to me if we tip over.”
Today the waves are bigger than before. I leave the sail up as long as I can, but soon hard gusts of wind grab at the sail and tip the cayuco almost on its side. I reach quickly to undo the knot around the seat. The knot is wet and tight and will not pull loose. The next wave hits me and another gust of wind catches the sail and turns the cayuco sideways. I paddle with all my strength to get straight. Again I fight to loosen the knot. The knot is so tight that my fingers cannot pull it apart.
Now the wind makes a sound like a cat wanting to fight. I brace myself for the next wave and pull at the knot with both hands. A very big wave rolls toward me, throwing patches of foam into the wind. Rain blows sideways past me. I know this wave will tip the cayuco if I cannot lower the sail.
I grab the machete and swing the blade down hard on the seat. The rope breaks loose, and the sail crashes into the water. The cayuco tips and rocks. Quickly I pull at the heavy sail and the sail pole to bring them onto the deck. Now the big wave hits us. A wall of water lifts the cayuco like a strong hand. As we go up, the ocean comes over the front of the boat and explodes against the barrel. I am protected. The barrel guard I have made has saved my life.
When the cayuco reaches the top of the wave, I am scared that I will fall down the other side, but the wave passes behind us as we rush toward the next wave. I know I must always keep the cayuco straight. If we turn sideways, we will roll down a wave like a log rolling down a hill.
I fight hard to wrap the tie ropes around the cloth so the wind cannot blow the sail back into the water. It is easier this time because the tie ropes are already hanging from the sail pole. When they are tied, I paddle into the next wave.
This storm is strong and does not grow tired quickly. Even after the dark clouds pass behind me, the waves stay big and angry. But I know now that the cayuco can survive big waves. I also know I must tie the lifting rope with a knot that can be pulled loose when it is wet and tight. When the wind loses its anger, I scramble to the mast and pull up the sail. This time when I tie the rope to the seat, I leave a loop in the knot.
I think I am beginning to understand the ocean. It is not like a person who is always this way or that way. No, the ocean is always a stranger. One day it is kind and lazy, the next day maybe it is angry or cruel. The ocean does not care how it treats a young boy and his sister in a cayuco. This is something that I must remember.
The waves and the wind stay strong the rest of the afternoon, so I look for an island where we can spend the night. A big one appears ahead of me, and I pull in the sail until the nose of the cayuco aims toward a small shore on the west side.
When I sail close, there is no sign of anybody. Still I am careful. This is not a mangrove patch. The wind pushes me closer. Ahead of me now, there is a small inlet. This will better protect us from the wind and the waves, so I pull the sail down and paddle the last hundred meters through a narrow opening into a protected bay.
I paddle next to a sandy shore. There is a place where a fire has been started, but it does not look new. At both ends of the sandy beach, there are thick trees that hang out over the water. Yes, this will be a good place to stay. What luck it is to find such a place in the middle of the ocean.
But then I think again. What if somebody else does come here tonight? What will they do if they find two children from Guatemala sailing a cayuco? No, now is not a good time to be lazy or foolish. Instead, I paddle the cayuco under the trees at the end of the sand. This will hide us if anybody comes.
Angelina is excited to get out of the cayuco. Her feet have not touched land for three days and three nights. “Stay very near the trees,” I warn her as the cayuco scrapes the sandy shore.
Angelina climbs forward over the deck. When she jumps into the shallow water, she falls down. I, too, almost fall over when I step into the cool water to wade to shore. Our bodies have become used to the rocking of the cayuco. Now the sandy shore feels like it is also tipping and turning.
“Look!” Angelina calls with a giggle. She looks up at the sky and falls over again in the sand.
I try looking straight up myself, but must look back down before I also fall. As Angelina plays this new game she has discovered, I turn and look at the sky. The sun is almost down, and I know that soon it will grow dark. I am glad. Even if the trees hide us well, still I am scared somebody will see us. Angelina runs in and out of the water, splashing her hands and laughing. She finds sea-shells on the shore and brings them to me. She screams, “Look, Santiago! Look!”
“Yes,” I whisper. “They are very pretty.” I put my finger to my mouth, and she remembers she must be quiet. I know shells are something she has never seen before.
When Angelina is tired from playing, I take out the fruit and tortillas. I give Angelina one tortilla and half of one orange. I eat two tortillas and eat the other half of the orange. We have some dried fish, but I will save that for when I need to be strong crossing the Gulf. Also we have carrots, but I save them because they do not grow old so fast. Soon I must try to catch fish.
Because I do not know when we must leave the island, I make sure the cayuco is ready before I take the petate and lay it on the sand. Behind the trees, Angelina goes to the bathroom. This is something she has done many times today. I think that maybe the coconut milk is giving her diarrhea.
I tell Angelina to come and lie down beside me. “I will tell you a s
tory,” I say. “But you must close your eyes.”
She is obedient and she closes her eyes.
“A long long time ago,” I begin, “there was an island where children could fly—even little girls.”
“An island like this one?” Angelina asks.
“Yes, like this one,” I say. “And on this island, there lived a big lion who wanted to eat the children. So he told them they could not fly anymore because it was hard to catch them. The children all flew high into the sky and laughed at the lion. They teased the lion. ‘We can fly if we want,’ they said. ‘What will you do, fly after us and catch us?’
“‘No,’ said the lion. ‘I will wait here on the ground. Soon you will have to come back.’”
I look at Angelina, and already she is asleep. This is good, because I do not know what the children will do next in my story. I close my eyes and am asleep before more thoughts come to my head.
I do not know how long I have slept when a buzzing sound fills the air. At first I think it is a dream, but when I awake, there is a boat without lights coming through the narrow opening into the bay. The dark shape motors toward the beach in the dim moonlight. The sound of laughing and yelling and cursing comes over the water.
Now Angelina is awake, too. I put a finger to her mouth, and we watch from under the trees. The boat comes to the shore on the beach. Five or six men crawl from the boat. They speak Spanish, and I can hear some of their words. They say something about the gringo boat they have robbed.
I am very glad now we are under the trees. I reach for the machete that is beside me. As we watch, the men start a fire. They have bottles in their hands and are drinking. I hope they cannot see us. We are close enough to throw a stone at them. One man stumbles toward us in the dark, and I am ready to run with Angelina when the man stops and goes to the bathroom. Then he turns and stumbles back to the fire.
I want to run and jump into the cayuco and paddle as fast as I can from the bay, but I make myself wait. The men are drinking very much and are still dangerous. Soon they will be even more drunk and tired. When they fall asleep, that is when we will leave.
Angelina understands some Spanish, and she hears the men curse and say things that are very bad. They brag about all the boats they have robbed. Two of the men talk about killing people. Tonight I wish that I did not understand Spanish. These are some of the pirates that Enrique warned me about.
Our sleeping mat is on the sand, and as we wait quietly, I scratch my skin. Angelina scratches, too. The longer we lie there, the more we itch and scratch. Something is biting us in the dark, but there is nothing we can do but wait.
It is a long time before the pirates fall asleep around the fire. By now Angelina and I scratch madly and our skin burns like fire. Finally I decide it is time. I hold a hand over Angelina’s mouth and lead her down the beach. We wade into the water, and I lift her into the cayuco. Again I put a finger to my lips, and Angelina nods. I point, and she crawls under the deck.
I am very careful when I untie the cayuco and push it out from shore. I keep the machete in my hand as I crawl in. Every move is slow because the pirates can see us if they look. I hope they are all very drunk and asleep.
I paddle close to the trees and stay where it is dark. When I look back, the fire flickers on the shore. Angelina and I, we must get away from this island. I know that during the storm today, we survived because I built the barrel guard for the cayuco. Now, again, we are alive because I have been careful.
At last I paddle from the shore and away from the trees that hide us. We have almost left the bay when I hear somebody by the fire shout. Then there is more shouting, and I see men pointing and running around the fire toward the boat. They have seen us.
My breath catches. I have only two choices: we can go back to shore, or we can raise the sail and try to escape onto the dark ocean. I think the ocean is our only hope. If the pirates captured the cayuco on the island, they would soon find us. The island is not big enough to hide us for long.
Like a mad man, I paddle the cayuco out of the bay into the wind. Angelina sticks her head out from under the deck. “What is happening?” she asks.
“Hide under the deck,” I say, letting my voice sound angry. “Do not come out unless I tell you.”
She disappears.
Now the pirates have crawled into their boat, and I hear the engine start. At the same time, I feel the breeze in my face. If I raise the sail, it will be easy to see us, but if I paddle, they will find us even more easily. Quickly I raise the sail as I hear the pirates’ boat speed up. In the dark, I cannot see the boat, but I can hear the engine screaming toward us. I reach down and pick up the machete. I grip it hard.
Now the sound of the motor is very loud, and I know that soon the boat will come through the narrow opening from the bay behind us. The motor becomes so loud in the night that I think it will hit us. Then there is a loud crash. Branches break, and the night becomes silent. The pirates’ boat has hit the shore while coming through the narrow opening from the bay.
I feel the waves lift and drop the cayuco again as the island disappears behind us into the black night like a big shadow. I cannot swallow because my mouth is so dry from fear. I know that luck has saved us. For this I am glad, but I know that luck is not a friend that should be trusted.
Angelina again pushes her head out from under the deck.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Are the men gone?” she asks.
“Yes, the men are gone,” I say.
“Who were they?”
“Pirates,” I say, whispering as if I am scared.
“Like in a very scary story?” she asks, whispering back.
“Yes, like in a very scary story.”
16
TWO SHORES
I SAIL NOW into a very black night on a dark ocean filled with angry waves. The wind is loud, but the North Star hangs in the sky, waiting for us. It is good to look at something that is so far away from the ocean and the pirates and the cayuco.
I do not know what time it is. I see the moon, but I am not sure where the moon should be when it is early or when it is late.
Angelina is awake. “I itch,” she tells me, scratching her skin.
“So do I.” I reach down and pick up a coconut. I hit it with the machete until the shell cracks. “Here,” I say to Angelina. “I will put coconut milk on your skin.” As I rub the milk over Angelina’s thin arms and legs, I feel her bones and dry skin. She has already lost much weight. She looks up at me. “Will this help?”
“Oh, yes,” I say, even if I do not believe that my words are true.
“Do you itch, too?” she asks.
I nod and rub coconut milk on my own skin. And maybe I did not lie. The coconut milk feels good. But my hands still shake from escaping the pirates.
Angelina keeps scratching at her bites.
“The coconut milk will only work if you do not scratch your skin,” I tell her.
She nods and keeps scratching.
As we sail, the night is long once again, lasting until my arms grow tired and I fight to keep my eyes open. Always I must look into the darkness and be ready for the next wave. Above me, a thousand stars remind me that morning still waits over the horizon. I spit at the black waves. To answer me, the wind blows spray hard in my face.
I have discovered that the first sign of morning is not a light that I can see in the sky. It is when the stars grow dim and begin to disappear. That is what I finally see this night. As I wait for the sky to become light, I take the machete and I make another notch in the side of the cayuco. I have four notches now. Another night has let me live.
In the daylight, a second shore appears to my right. I blink hard because my mind is mixed up. I still travel north with the wind and the current. This I know. The cayuco has not turned. But there are two shores now. One is still the shore far to my left. The second is closer to my right. Both shores reach as far as I can see to the north and as far as I can see to the south. br />
I think at first that I am sailing into a big bay and that we should sail south again. But I am not sure of this. Suddenly fear makes me breathe faster. I pull out the map and stare at it with big eyes. Then I look up at the ocean. No, this is not a bay. To the north there is only open water. I move my finger north along the shore on the map and I try to think where I am. Halfway up the coast of Belize I see many islands, but I do not think that is where I am. The islands are smaller than this land and too far away from shore.
My finger stops at the north end of Belize where a long island drops for many kilometers south from Mexico. At the north end of the island, the map shows a narrow opening that escapes to open ocean. But where am I? If I am south of this opening, I still need to sail north more. If I have already missed the opening, sailing farther north will take me into a big inland bay that will trap me. That would be a very big and dangerous mistake.
I see more boats now and this scares me. Will a military boat see us and know we do not have papers? As I think, I turn the cayuco and sail toward the big island until the west shore behind me disappears. I am sure now that I am someplace very bad because there is no current. Still I do not know what direction to sail. North? Or south?
Because the wind is from the south, I take a big chance and sail to the north. As I turn the cayuco, I look again at the map. I do not think I understand maps very well. Each time I look, my thinking changes. First I think I am right. Then I think maybe I am wrong. I know I cannot sail up to a big white tourist sailboat and say, “Hello. Please tell me, where is the United States of America?”
I sail all afternoon, looking for the narrow opening between the Belize island and Mexico. With little wind and no current, I do not sail fast. The hot sun makes me feel like an ant crawling across a desert. On the shore, there are only fishing camps. I pass small islands and bays, but still there is no place where the water opens to the ocean. Maybe I am not where I think I am. Maybe I am someplace the map does not show. Inside of me, fear pulls my stomach tight like a great knot.