Infinite Devotion (28 page)

He turns, and the captain translates, “The Bishop O’Gallagher wants us to follow him.”

“Why is he dressed like a savage?” Andres asks under his breath.

“Because the English are searching for a bishop,” the captain says with a smirk.

The bishop takes us to a room up the narrow dark stairs, where a dozen more Spaniards sit in front of the fireplace, eating their supper. They jump to their feet at the sight of us, and one says, “Friends!”

But the bishop steps in and, with great emphasis says, “
Captain!
”

The men seem ecstatic at this and one says, “We’ve been waiting for a captain to get us off this cursed island.”

The captain appears both flattered and confused by this welcome.

“You see,” the leader of the group starts, “the bishop has acquired a pinnace to get to the safety of Scotland, but none of us are sailors, all worthless soldiers.” They all laugh at this.

The captain puts his hands on Alvaro. “Not only am I a captain, but I have here my commander and two brave sailors.” I almost tear at his compliments to us; I forgive him completely for his “little ones” comment before.

The men clap, and the bishop says, “If you ask, then you shall receive,” and he looks up with his hands clasped toward the ceiling.

“Which ship did you captain?” the leader asks.

“The beautiful
San Pedro
,” the captain says, sitting by the fire, and some of the men rush to get him bread, butter, and wine. “And all of you?”

“We came from the
Trinidad Valancera
.” He looks at his companions.

“Only twelve survive?” Alvaro asks.

He pauses a moment. “Our ship started to sink when we rounded Scotland, but we made it to the Irish shore before she finally sank. Three hundred men made it to the shore alive, and we were immediately helped by the kind Chieftain O’Doherty, who took us all to Bishop O’Gallagher, who harbored us in his castle.” He takes another moment. “English troops came on horseback, came with muskets pointed at the surrounded castle. They promised fair treatment if we would surrender. So we trusted this deputy’s promise and came out with our hands up. They marched us up to a field and stripped us of our clothing, then herded us in the center and began shooting us!”

His voice rises and his face turns red. The other men look either to their feet or to the fire. The speaker takes a breath to calm himself and his voice lowers. “In the bloody confusion, some of us managed to escape, and we ran back to the bishop for help. He took us all in again at the risk of his own safety, and we’ve been waiting for someone who can take us across the channel.” He spreads his hands out to the twelve of them. “This is all that is left of three hundred.”

“The same thing happened to me, friend,” Alvaro says.

The captain says sternly, “We must gather supplies and leave as soon as we can, then. The deputy will come here again and we’ll all be damned.”

Andres and I, tired after our long journey and full belly, curl up with Bella and fall asleep to the sounds of the men planning the escape to Derry. Although it seems much colder without Pepe coiled up with us.

Chapter 18

The next morning, the bishop comes to take the captain to survey the pinnace. Alvaro’s allowed to come, but both of them have to dress in savage clothing. They’re gone for two hours, and when they return, the captain has his brows pinched together in what I’ve learned to be a look of great concern.

“So tell us of the pinnace?” a Spaniard asks.

The captain looks up to choose his words wisely, another bad sign. He begins slowly, “Well… I think she could get us to Scotland.”

“Could?” the leader asks.

Alvaro jumps in. “She’s in bad shape.”

The bishop says, “I asked some of the lords in the area, and this is all that was offered.”

“No, bishop, this is more than we could hope for.” The captain is quick to say. “Once Alvaro and I do some work on her, we’ll be sitting pretty, sailing off to salvation. We couldn’t have asked for more.”

The bishop blows out a relieved breath. “I have no doubt you can repair her, Captain. Let me start collecting your supplies.”

The captain makes sure he leaves before he whispers, “Men, I’ll do all I can, but we might be better off floating in a barrel to Scotland.”

Alvaro chimes in, “The caulking’s spewed, the mast has rot, and the main sail’s threadbare in places.”

“Well, can we repair it like you said?” the leader asks.

“We can do our best, but we have no caulk and no replacement sail. I might be able to get some timber and try to reinforce the masts, and Alvaro can fix the riggings. But if we hit any unhappy weather, we could be sunk,” he says, looking at Andres’s worried face, which makes him finish far too happily, “but it’s all we’ve got, so we have to make it work. God has been in our favor this whole time, and I have no doubt He’ll bring us through this too!”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

We stay in the dark room in the castle for another five days. Andres and I grow itchy from confinement, but we’re also wary of what is coming. Alvaro and the captain are gone most of the five days, and at the end, the captain comes in and claps his large padded hands together. “To Scotland’s shining shore!”

All of us gather our things, and the bishop holds mass for us with a blessing that we shall escape our enemies. We follow him down to the pinnace in one long chain, and he lets us kiss his ring, saying, “And the Lord be with you.”

The ship is fatigued and broken like an old nag left to die in a green pasture. When I leap on, I can hear her moan, saying, “Leave me be!” The wood is dark with age and the floor’s slippery from rot. I notice all of the captain’s improvements but wonder if you built strong on top of weak, isn’t it still weak? Everyone appears weary. Even the soldiers notice a sea-tired ship when they see one. Even Bella, once we put her on the ship, goes scratching at the railing feeling safer on the dock. But when we look back at the bishop and see his hopeful, chubby, saintly face‌—‌we feel the power of his blessing.

The captain yells out, “Thanks be to God for Saint Redmund O’Gallagher!” and we all repeat, “Saint Redmund O’Gallagher!” and make the sign of the cross.

The captain hollers to Alvaro to untie the rope and push off, and we wave good-bye to the bishop and the hostile, mysterious island we thought we’d die on. Andres gives me a look, and we both remain quiet thinking the same thing, I’m sure—
we won’t ever see him again now
.

As dusk draws near and the misty land is completely out of sight, Alvaro, after checking the riggings once again, sits down, leaning his back against the mast, and starts an Irish song on his flute. We all lie back and watch each star appear.

The captain breaks our moment of relaxation by saying after coming up from below, “Everyone up except Alvaro, and get a bucket. We’re taking on water far too fast, and we have to bail out the bilge.”

“Is that why we’re not making good time?” Alvaro asks as he studies the old compass. “We should be a quarter of the way there by now, but since we’re taking on water and the winds blowing against us, we’re half that.”

The captain squints up to measure our distance by the stars and nods in agreement to Alvaro. “Well, as long as we get there, don’t matter how many days it takes.” With that, he grabs a bucket and goes down to start bailing.

We bail all night until we have blisters, but there’s no reprieve. Even though we formed a chain and didn’t go five seconds before emptying a bucket over the side, the water’s gaining. Alvaro yells down to us, “The winds picking up and dark clouds are blowing toward us.”

The captain heads up to check as we keep passing buckets. We start losing our footing as the boat tosses around, and we realize there’s a big difference being on a galleon in rough weather and being on a pinnace.

Andres hollers up after a rather serious crash into the hull and splashes into the water. “Captain, can we quit and come up? We’re getting thrown around down here!”

But the captain doesn’t come, which means things must not have been good above.

One of the men yells back, “We must keep bailing!”

Andres, miserable and wet, fishes his bucket that went floating away and gets back into his place in the chain. We try to balance each other during violent rolls, but all of us end up floundering in the bilge at different points. I feel queasy from the rocking and turn to see Andres bent over, getting sick in his bucket. After he’s done, he just passes it up, palely, in the chain, and the men turn their heads at its passing. It becomes routine after every few buckets to get some of Andres’s breakfast passed up, and he gets so used to throwing up that he merely takes a bucket, spits up, and keeps passing. We all tiredly laugh in the way you do in strange, stressful circumstances‌—‌a brainless laugh that your worn body can’t control.

Suddenly, we hear a terrible tearing sound and the thunderous flapping of a loose sail. It’s a sound we dreaded, since we know we have no replacement sail. We yell up the chain, “What happened?” and receive back down the chain, “The main sail’s torn.”

“Great, another thing to slow us down,” the dark-haired Spaniard beside me says, and I decide to make another sign of the cross before getting my next bucket.

Andres got the next break, and when he comes back, he ceases getting sick. The winds die down overnight, and our two other smaller sails survive the storm, to our relief.

On my break, I go up to sleep on the damp deck and hear the captain say, “We’ll make it there, boys! Keep the buckets coming!”

When I open my eyes again, everyone’s on deck celebrating.

Andres, seeing me awake, runs to me. “We see Scotland!”

I run over to what looks like the Irish coast we just left. I jump and hug Andres, and his eyes are full of tears. Alvaro, in one swoop, picks up Andres and me and spins around on the deck.
Can we really have gone through all of this and see Spain again?
I look at the misty shore with wonderment.
How could Pepe have had such doubt
?

A bucket’s handed to me, and I turn to see the captain. “We’re not there yet. We still need to keep this barrel afloat.”

When I go back down, I have to roll my wool pants up above my knee, for the water has risen so since my break. We float into the bay half-submerged, and some kind fisherman, seeing our distress, comes out to the boat to aid us.

The captain anchors the pinnace and, being the last to leave her, says as he hits a jug of wine on her porous hull, “I christen thee
Pinnace O’Gallagher
in the name of our patron saint.” Then he kisses the mainmast and the boards of the small fishing ship that takes us into shore, where we get off and embrace the glorious rocky sand.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Many days later, I’m watching the majestic sight of Edinburgh castle come into view. It looms there, almost a league above the village, a massive and imposing stronghold at the top of a giant rock. Two sides are built straight up from steep, deadly cliffs and the other slightly less steep side, with a winding and perilous path. Our horses, pulling us up the mountain, are already straining a quarter of the way up, and I wonder what will happen should the harness or hinge to the carriage break. Andres, already sick from the bumpy and long carriage ride, has to put his head between his knees at the sight of the incline. I can breathe again once we’re within the fortified wall surrounding the castle. The captain gets excited. “The good bishop told me that King James has aided, clothed, and delivered passage to all Spaniards that have sought his help.”

Alvaro speaks. “King James is no Catholic, though. Why would he assist us?”

The captain quickly explains, “Scotland is mostly Lutheran, but there are a few Catholic lords and counts that will sway the king for our last leg home, boys!”

I look up the high expanse of the steel-colored walls of the castle and feel uneasy.

It’s hours before we’re brought into a small room within the castle with no furniture and only one window. The captain paces while he waits for someone to bring us to the king. Finally, an attendant appears, and immediately the captain fumes. “There must be some mistake. The last attendant must have forgotten about us, since we’ve been standing here for hours waiting to see His Majesty.”

The aged and bored-looking attendant barely bats an eye and says, “There has been no mistake. His majesty is very busy today and will have no time to meet with you. He asked us to bring you to your room, which we have. I’ve come to bring you your blankets and supper.”

The captain appears shocked and watches dumbfounded as the attendant brings in a stack of blankets, pillows, a basket full of bread and butter, and a jug. The captain tries to move past his anger and asks, “We’ve had our clothing stolen from us and have been forced to wear the poor clothes of Irish savages. Could you please ask the king to bestow us with some civilized clothes?”

The Spanish-speaking attendant acts as though he hasn’t heard what he said and coldly replies as he walks out the door, “I will make your request known.”

The door slams, and we hear a slat swipe behind the door.