again.
He would not take it. 'Keep the guitar, my son. My father wanted me to give it to my own son. I do so now.'
It just about had me crying, too. I swore that when I had enough to buy a good guitar for myself I would return his, and that was where we left it.
After that there is not a lot more to tell about the time I spent in Spain, and I do not enjoy telling what there is. Every morning I played the organ for morning mass, and I generally brought along the padre's guitar so he could see it was okay. (I was also afraid that it would be stolen if I left it in my room.) Then I would go back to the inn and sleep awhile like everybody did, because I would have been up late the night before playing in cantinas. A little after sundown I played for the girl I have been telling about. After a while she started talking to me through a first-floor window, and we held hands through the grille. I told her I was a sailor and I used to live in Havana. One night she came outside to talk to me. She danced when I played-she was a really good dancer-and we kissed and so on.
The next night the fat cook came out. 'Master's been screaming to the sky, and Senora has been beaten to a rag because of you. Estrellita, too! Worse, and she can hardly walk. Get out!'
That was that. In the morning I gave the padre his guitar back and went down to the quay. The Santa Charita was out of dry dock and fitting out, and the captain took me back like he said he would. I was glad of it, because I knew that if I went back to my room in the inn I was going to jump. It was four floors up and cobblestones down below, so it would probably have killed me. I had needed a knife before, and I bought a regular sailor's knife with the money I had left-a big folding knife with a straight edge for cutting rope and a folding marlinspike. Every time I looked at the wooden handle of it, I would think of the padre's guitar. They were not really the same, but I did. I lost it when they chained me up on the Weald.
It took us another ten days to finish fitting out and load cargo. The cargo was mostly tools for carpenters and blacksmiths and so on, but there was a lot of classy stuff too, bolts of China silk and good clothes.
We felt pretty classy ourselves, with fresh paint on all over, the ship recaulked, new sails, and new rigging. We shook out for a couple of days to make sure everything worked. I got seasick in the forecastle and got knocked down for it, and when I felt better I had it out with that guy. I was younger and faster, I had more reach, and I meant to kill him. He was stronger and maybe forty pounds heavier, and he just about killed me. Eventually I got him down, and pretty soon he begged for mercy. When he did, I let him up. It takes a lot to make a sailor beg.
5
Pirates!
About halfway across the Atlantic we ran into a storm. Some of the other guys said they had been in worse, and my guess is they were telling the truth. That one was plenty bad enough for me, and I know the captain thought it might sink us. For three days and three nights, it bounced us around and rolled us like a ninepin. One time there was green water three feet deep in the waist. We lost a man overboard, and just about lost another one-the other one being me. Nobody could have slept on that ship, we just passed out when we got into our hammocks. We were dripping wet, but it did not matter because the weather deck was leaking water onto us anyway. Sometimes we got an hour or two of sleep before somebody yelled, 'All hands!' Most often it was more like fifteen minutes.
We were under bare poles, but things kept breaking or blowing loose. Whenever a sail came loose, we had to try to furl it again before the storm tore it up. Sometimes we got it in, and sometimes we did not. All the standing rigging got soaked, which made it longer. That meant all the stays were loose, and we might lose one or both our masts when she rolled. We had to try to tighten everything up, working in the dark even when it was daytime, with the rain driving in our faces and breakers coming over the rail. I do not know how hard that wind blew, but when it got hold of anything you just saw it for an instant before it disappeared forever.
I did not pray then-I was too busy and too tired. I would have let the storm kill me, if it had not been for the other men in our crew. I did not like most of them, and those I liked I did not like much. But there was no time to think about that. We were us, and if our ship went down we would die.
When the storm finally ended in warm weather, blue skies, and sunshine, it was half a day before any of us had energy enough to bring out our hammocks and spare clothes so they could dry. We just slept on deck. That evening we got the first hot food we had seen in four days. It was the best the cook could do, a hash of fresh beef, salt pork, ship's bread, onions, and tomatoes, with a lot of garlic. There was wine, and I remember old Zavala grinning at me over his. He had lost about half his teeth.
A lot of things may have happened between then and the next time I remember, but they cannot be important things or I would be able to think of them. We worked on the ship all watch, every watch, trying to fix up as much of the damage as we could.
One night somebody shook me awake and yelled at me to get out on deck. There was another man with him who had a cutlass in one hand and a lantern in the other, and I did not know either of them. All I could think about was where they might have come from.
Outside, they made us line up. Like I said, I have forgotten a lot that happened between the storm and that night, but I remember that night as well as anything that has ever happened in my life. It was overcast, no moon and just one or two stars peeping though tears in the clouds. A little swell to the sea and the Santa Charita rolling to it just enough to feel alive. Five or six or maybe eight or ten lanterns lit, one run halfway up the mainmast and one on the quarterdeck railing and looking like it was going to slide off any minute. Pirates holding the rest, a lantern in one hand and a cutlass or a pistol in the other.
I had gotten into line and everything before I saw there were two bodies on the deck. One was old Zavala. I kept staring at the other one, trying to figure out who it was. His face was turned away from me, and he was not wearing anything but a long shirt.
Somebody-a voice I did not know-said, 'Let's have another light over here,' and I kind of jumped. That was because it seemed to me that I should know it, and because the words were in English.
'There's many a one would cut your throats,' the man who spoke English said. Then another man said the same thing in Spanish and louder.
'You've been lucky. Very lucky. You've fallen into the compassionate hands of Captain Bram Burt. Any man who disobeys or lies to me will lose his life a damned sight quicker than a court would kill him. But the ones who obey and tell me the truth will live, and some of them will even get a chance to grow rich while they're still young enough to enjoy it.'
When the Spanish translation came, all of us were looking at each other. Before that I had been looking at him, trying to remember where I had seen that round face and long blond mustache before. If you read this far, you will have gotten it a lot quicker than I did.
He pointed to the dead man in the long shirt. 'This was your captain. I know that because he came out of the captain's cabin. What other officers are there on this ship? Watch-keeping officers.'
Senor took a step forward. He looked scared enough to faint, but he sounded brave when he said, 'Only I.'
Capt. Burt unhooked a pistol from his belt, cocked it fast and easy, and leveled it at Senor. 'You had better call me 'Captain.''
Senor touched his forehead. 'Si, Capitan.'
'You can navigate?'
'Si, Capitan.'
'Who else can?'
Senor's mouth opened, but nothing came out.
I raised my hand and said in English, 'I can, a little bit, sir. Nobody else.'
'En verdad, Capitan. Nadie.'
Capt. Burt was looking at me and paid no attention to Senor. 'You-put down your hand.' He raised his voice.
