I am looking so hard for the ocean, I do not see a big sailboat that catches up to me from behind. A loud horn blows, and I turn. I think my heart stops. The boat is close enough to hit me if it turns only a little. The boat has a great sail and a mast that is the size of a tall tree. Standing on the deck are many white people who wear swimsuits and sunglasses. They are waving. One takes pictures of my small cayuco with her camera. I do not know why these people look at us and take pictures. Maybe they think Angelina and I look funny with our big hats. I keep my head down and tell Angelina to hide under the deck.
The sailboat does not slow. Soon it is far ahead of me. Still moving fast, it turns and sails east. I think it will hit the island, but it disappears beyond the island, still sailing east.
“Angelina,” I say, letting my voice be loud. “Maybe we have found the ocean again.”
Angelina crawls out from under the deck and looks around. “There is no wind and waves,” she says.
“They wait for us out on the ocean with the current,” I say.
“I do not like wind and waves,” she says.
I smile. “Sometimes they are friends,” I say. “They take us to the United States of America.”
The small cayuco sails until I can see around the north end of the island. At first I want to cry because I see only land. The big sailboat is stopped in a bay. But then I see a fishing cayuco going behind the trees into what looks like a big river. I look at the bay and I look at my map. I do not see any big river on the map where I think I am. And I do not think a fishing cayuco goes to a river to fish.
I know what I do now is very dangerous, but I follow the other cayuco. There is no wind, so I let the sail drop. Soon I am paddling along a narrow channel of water that is very shallow and only thirty meters wide. Below the cayuco there is green seaweed and sand. Soon I see other small boats. Some have motors and pass by me. I keep paddling and do not look up at them.
I am almost ready to give up and turn around when the channel bends. Ahead of me, water reaches all the way to where it meets the sky. Happiness explodes inside me. It is ocean as far as I can see. I paddle faster. Angelina knows that something makes me very happy, and she claps her hands.
Much more time passes before I have paddled through the opening and the cayuco lifts and drops with the ocean swells again. When the winds pick up, I raise the sail. Again the current comes with an invisible hand and pushes us to the north. I realize that I have changed in only four days. When I first sailed from the Río Dulce, winds and waves scared me. Now I am happy to find them again. I only hope they do not become angry with me.
I know now that the land to my left is Mexico, so I sail east until the shore is once again only a thread resting on the water. The spray of salt water wets my skin, and the cayuco pushes through the waves. The other fishing boats do not come this far away from shore. Once more I sail alone.
Soon it will be night, and we have not eaten all day. Still I am happy to be back on the ocean. We did not escape trouble today with thinking or with bravery. Today luck rode with us again in the cayuco. I do not like this because maybe next time luck will not be so kind.
“Are you hungry?” I ask Angelina.
She nods. “I want something different.”
“We have dry beans,” I say. “But we cannot cook them. Maybe we can soak them in water before we eat them. Do you like beans?” I ask.
Angelina shakes her head. “I want hot chicken.”
“Okay,” I say. “Go catch the chicken, and I will start the fire.”
“You cannot start a fire in the cayuco,” she says.
“And you cannot catch a chicken on the ocean,” I answer. “We will eat tortillas and fruit again tonight, but we will soak beans in water for tomorrow. They will be hard, but I think it is something we can eat.”
With an angry face, Angelina brings the tortillas. “Tomorrow I will look for chickens,” she says.
I smile. “Okay.”
Tonight, for the first time, we eat tortillas that are not salty. Angelina likes this, but tonight she does not smile. I think all four-year-old children have nights when they do not smile. When we finish, I cut a papaya in half and we eat all of it because it will be soft by tomorrow.
Angelina finishes before me and quietly brings the bag of beans from under the deck. To help her, I take a bottle of water that is half empty and pour dried beans through the top. In the morning we will see how beans taste when they are not cooked and can only be soaked in water. I think that tomorrow will be a good day to begin fishing, too. Raw fish does not seem so bad now.
After Angelina falls asleep under the deck, I begin the next long night. Tonight, as I stare at the waves, the water passing beside the cayuco glows green like a dim candle. The glow dances and flashes. I do not know why this happens, but tonight I do not care because my mind is numb.
Since the night of the killing, my mind has asked many questions. How do I escape the soldiers? How do I find the home of Uncle Ramos? How do I sail a cayuco? What do I eat? How can I live in a storm? Will the pirates see me? How do I take care of my little sister? And what if I am lost? These are only some of the questions that my mind has needed to ask. This is why my mind has grown more tired than my body.
Tonight my mind does not care where I am or where I go. I do not care if there are more soldiers ahead or if there is not food to eat. Tonight my mind is too tired to worry. I think only of sailing the cayuco.
I stare up at a sky filled with stars. After I stare a long time, I see one star fall into the ocean. It is so bright I think it will land in the cayuco. I think that this trip is only a dream that will end when I wake up.
17
I AM STUPID
MY MACHETE makes a loud sound when I cut the fifth notch in the side of the cayuco. The sound wakes Angelina.
“I am hungry,” she says, even before she rubs sleep from her eyes.
“I am, too,” I say, but I know that we have only three tortillas left, and they have green mold. Still, we must eat them. I smile. “This morning we are lucky,” I say. “We can eat tortillas and beans.”
Without being told, Angelina brings the tortillas and beans. I push my machete into the top of the bottle and use the blade to lift beans from the water. I put some in my mouth and chew. The beans are not hard, but I cannot say they are soft. They are like a carrot or coconut. They can be chewed but are hard to swallow. Water helps.
Angelina watches me scrape mold from a tortilla. I fill the tortilla with beans and give it to her. She does not complain, but her face tells me she does not like what she eats. As she chews, she stares out across the ocean. Her eyes blink to hold back tears. I think maybe her little stomach hurts because she is so hungry. She stares the same way a stray dog stares when it eats garbage.
I also chew on a tortilla with beans and say to Angelina, “This will help us to win our game.”
“Staying alive,” Angelina says.
I nod. “When we win, we will be able to eat chicken and hot tamales. There will be fresh tortillas with lime and salt and garlic. We will even have soup made from lamb like when there is a wedding or a child is born in the village.” When Angelina does not answer me, I say, “Angelina, today we will catch a fish.”
Angelina stares across the waves as if she does not hear my words. She looks at me only when she needs more water to help her swallow the dry tortilla and beans.
“I do not like our game,” she says suddenly. When I do not answer her, she asks, “Can I have coconut milk?”
I shake my head. “I think that is what gives you diarrhea.”
As I eat, I look at the ocean and try to think about what I can do to make sailing tomorrow easier. I know I need to make a rudder with the paddle or I will never dare to sleep. Carefully I use the machete to cut a notch behind me in the back of the cayuco. I make the notch only big enough to hold the handle of the paddle. Now I can put the paddle in the notch and steer the boat without always lifting and pushing.
Already the sun climbs higher and brings more heat. Today the waves are like small rolling hills that follow the cayuco from behind. The wind lets me swing the sail wide. I put the paddle in the notch and lean against the handle to keep the cayuco straight.
I know I must find rest today, but I must also be able to wake up. “Angelina,” I say. “I need sleep. I will sit in the seat, but today you must sit between my legs and be my eyes. Wake me up if you see other boats or big waves or if we start to turn. Okay?”
Angelina takes another drink of water and nods. She pulls on her hat then stands and pushes mine over my head. Quietly she sits on the floor between my feet.
I am very proud of Angelina. She is only four, but already she knows what she must do. I think maybe she knows that this is not really a game. I think there are many things Angelina knows but will not speak of.
Before I let myself sleep, I pull out the fishing line from the plastic pail under the deck. The line is wrapped around a small chunk of wood. There is only one hook on the line. I rip off a piece of dried fish and push it over the hook. I am not a fisherman, so I do not know what fish want to eat.
Carefully, I drop the hook into the water and unwrap the line until the hook pulls under the water about ten meters behind the cayuco. I am too tired to hold the line, so I tie it around my waist. “Angelina,” I say, “if a fish moves or pulls the line, wake me up.”
Angelina nods.
With the paddle wedged in the notch, the cayuco sails straight. I look around me once more before I close my eyes and fall asleep. Soon the sleep of the dead captures me. I sleep until I relax and fall to the side. This jerks me awake from my heavy sleep.
I look down and find Angelina asleep also, her head resting on my legs. The cayuco still sails well, so I do not wake her. Little sisters do not make very good sailors or fishermen. I turn and find that the fishing line still pulls straight behind us. Again I fall asleep.
I am sleeping hard when a little hand wakes me. It is Angelina jerking on my ear. “Fish,” she says. “Look at all the fish.”
I wake up fast because I think we have caught something.
Again Angelina says, “Look, fish!”
What Angelina sees is many dolphins swimming around the cayuco. Their backs roll above the water, and they look like they are playing. Sometimes they jump high out of the water. One comes up very close beside the cayuco. Angelina reaches out and tries to touch it.
“Why are the fish here?” Angelina asks.
“These are dolphins,” I say. “They are not fish. Uncle Ramos has told me they breathe air and play like dogs.”
“Why do they jump beside the cayuco?” she asks.
“Because they know we are on a very long trip and they feel sorry for us. They know we feel lonely and they want us to laugh. See how they smile?”
Angelina nods. When she turns to look at me, she is smiling. “The dolphins make me smile,” she says.
As the dolphins play, I smell a bad smell. I do not have time to think about it because suddenly I feel a heavy pain in my stomach. It is like I have swallowed a coconut without breaking the shell. I need to go to the bathroom almost faster than I can pull my pants down. “Angelina,” I say, “look at those dolphins.” I point to the front of the cayuco.
When she looks forward, I pull my pants down. The cayuco has a flat back where I have made the notch for the paddle. I lean my bottom over the back. It is like a firecracker exploding inside of me, and Angelina turns to see what the noise is.
“Look at the dolphins,” I say with an angry voice.
Angelina looks again to the front, but I hear her little voice giggle.
“What is so funny?” I ask.
“When you went to the bathroom, you made the same sound I made.”
“Did you go to the bathroom when I was sleeping?” I ask.
She nods.
I am finished, so I reach under the seat and use the dirty sleeve from the shirt to clean myself. “Did you go into the water?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I tried but I almost fell into the ocean. I went there.” Angelina points under the deck at the bottom of the cayuco.
Now I know what the bad smell is. I am very angry. The bottom of the cayuco is not dry. Because there is water under the coconuts, now all the coconuts are dirty and will have to be washed before we can eat them. I want to be mad at Angelina because I am very tired, but I ask her in a patient voice, “Why did you not wake me to help you?”
“I kicked you, but you did not wake up.”
“Did you clean yourself?” I ask.
She nods.
“How? The sleeve was behind me.”
Angelina will not look at me.
“How?” I ask, my voice louder.
Angelina points her finger at the leg of my pant.
I look down. My pant leg is smeared with brown. I shake my head and hold my breath to keep back my anger, then I smile a tired smile. “I need more sleep,” I say. But first I swing my leg into the ocean and wash the leg of my pants. “Next time, use your dress.”
Angelina shakes her head. “I do not want a dirty dress,” she says.
I point at the coconuts that are the most dirty. “Hand me those and I will wash them.”
Angelina shakes her head.
“If you do not hand them to me, I will clean them with your dress,” I say. “The same way that you have used my pants.”
Angelina crawls forward quickly and picks up the dirtiest coconut. She pinches her nose with one hand, and gives me the coconut with a stiff arm.
When I finish cleaning the coconuts, I take the bottle with the beans and tie it near the mast on top of the hot deck. Maybe sitting in the hot sun all day will make the beans better for our stomachs.
“If you have to go to the bathroom, you must wake me up,” I say.
“I think I will hit you on the head with a coconut,” she says.
I do not laugh because I know she will.
I look down now and find only a short piece of fishing line waving from my waist. The line is broken where it has rubbed over the back of the cayuco.
I am angry at myself. I know I have done something very stupid today. I had only one hook, and now it is gone. Did I think the cayuco would fish for me because I was tired? Big tears come to my eyes to tell me that I am stupid, very stupid. Maybe this one mistake will kill us.
Carefully I wrap up the broken fishing line. I blink my eyes to hold back the tears as my tired thoughts float above the waves with the wind. This is how I sail the rest of the day. I try to sleep, but thoughts keep me in a world that is someplace between awake and asleep. As long as I can see the faraway shore, I do not worry.
In this part of the ocean, there are only a few islands, but I know I sail close to a reef because once, during the afternoon, I look down into the clear water and see the bottom. Also the current has slowed.
As night comes to the sky, I sail near the floating balls from a fisherman’s net. I do not think anyone can see me from shore, so I lower the sail and paddle beside one of the balls. What I do is very wrong, but maybe it is okay because I am only a young boy who has lost his only hook and is trying to feed his little sister.
The net is heavy, but I pull it up until I find a silver fish tangled by its head. The fish is still alive, so I hold it with my hand and chop the head off with my machete. The net drops back into the water with a loud splash. Quickly I raise the sail and keep sailing. I do not want someone to catch me.
As I sail, I cut the fish apart. Angelina does not wait. She reaches out and grabs a piece of meat before it is cut away from the fish.
“Wait,” I say, smiling. I know her little stomach is very hungry. Five days ago, she would not eat a fresh tortilla wet with salt water. Now I must tell her to wait before she can eat a raw fish covered with blood.
18
NOTCH NUMBER SIX
I REMEMBER WELL the night when Angelina and I sailed from Guatemala with the moon small and the night
dark with rain. Tonight the sky is filled with stars and the moon is bigger. The waves roll north and east to my right. If I am going to sleep during this night, I must sail with the waves. They will take me away from shore, but I know that tomorrow I will find the shore again. Land does not move.
I am not so afraid of being away from the shore now because I am learning more about the ocean. The winds and the waves east of the Yucatán are more kind to me than the waters near Belize. But I know this is something that can change, so I will not be foolish.
My hands and my backside are sore. Because the wooden seat is always wet with salt water, my skin is raw from sitting. Sometimes I kneel so I do not have to sit, but then my knees become red and sore. I even stand sometimes, but that is dangerous.
I worry about Angelina because her skin, too, is becoming very burned and cracked. Her skin is not thick and hard like mine, and she does not understand why it hurts. Sometimes big silent tears wet her cheeks because her backside is so sore from diarrhea. I do not know if she is sick or if the food or coconuts make her this way. When rain comes, I will wash her again.
Angelina is brave and does not cry very much now. She sits quietly under the deck. Sometimes she scratches at her dry skin. Sometimes she picks at her nose. I give her coconut and sugar cane to chew. This helps her to forget the hunger she feels.
Yes, Angelina is a brave girl, but I think her silence also tells me that something is wrong. She does not talk about Mother or Father, or about our brothers and sister. I know that she carries memories of them and of home and of the night the sky turned red. I reach out and give her a big hug the way Mother once hugged her. She pushes me away. She is a very sad girl.
I know that this trip is killing Angelina a little each day. That is why I must sail through the coming night. Also tonight I must sleep when I am sailing. This is dangerous, but if I do not sleep, maybe tomorrow I will fall asleep when the winds and the waves are even stronger.