Mission Libertad (3 page)

Lunch and dinner came and went with nothing but water to drink. Luisito didn't feel weak, but he was very hungry.

Night fell again, and his father used a small kitchen knife to carve another line on the side of the raft to remind him of how many days they had been at sea. With the night came a steady breeze. They used the sheets to keep out the chill.

“What is that?” Luisito said as he felt a nudge on the side of the raft.

“Is it a shark?” Elena gasped, looking at Miguel.

Suddenly the creature leaped out of the water. It wasn't a shark. It was a dolphin, and as they looked even more dolphins appeared! They were all swimming in circles around the raft.

“I think they're protecting us!” Luisito smiled.

“That means there are sharks not so far away,” Elena said wearily.

“Look at them, Papi!” Luisito said in amazement.

“They are really something!” Miguel replied.

After a few hours, the dolphins disappeared and Luisito fell asleep, slumped on the raft next to his mother. He hoped the dolphins were smart enough to know the sharks were gone. What if the next nudge he felt was that of a shark?

When the sun rose the next morning it looked so close Luisito felt he could reach out and touch it from the raft. Everything seemed less frightening in the daylight. He was glad it was another day and he was still alive. They
had more sips of water. He was so hungry! Suddenly, a loud screeching sound came from the motor—and then there was silence.

“What was that?” Luisito gasped.

“The motor . . . it's stopped!” his father said in a worried voice.
“¡Que barbaridad!”

“Can we fix it, Papi?”

Miguel leaned over the side of the raft to inspect the motor. After several tense minutes he turned back to Luisito and Elena.

“The motor is very hot and I'm afraid to say it, but the motor oil has leaked out from the corroded drain plug. I see the oil floating in the water.
¡Caramba!
” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair. “It's ruined. I can't get it to work again!”

“¿Ay no qué hacemos?”
said Elena. “What are we going to do?”

“Don't worry, Mami,” Luisito said, holding her by the shoulders.

Miguel placed his hands on his face for a few minutes, as if thinking. Then he took a deep breath.

“Okay, no need to panic,” he said. “Let's keep rowing. I had hoped the old motor wouldn't break down, but I'm prepared. I brought the oars, and as soon as there is some wind I will put up the fabric and we can sail.”

Without another word, father and son began to take turns rowing. They wanted to get as far as possible during the day. Luisito rowed fast. He hadn't known he could row that fast!

“Let's not panic,” Miguel said. “Slow down so you won't burn out. Keep it steady and then rest. Then you can row some more.”

The sun was hotter than ever, or maybe it just felt like that because Luisito was rowing. It was burning his fair skin. His feet, too, were getting red and a bit swollen. He felt dizzy and nauseated. They fell into a rhythm of rowing and stopping at intervals to rest. Miguel took off his shirt and wet it. He handed it to Luisito.

“Here, put it on your head so you won't dehydrate,” he said.

Luisito felt the cool relief of the wet shirt on his hot head. He glanced at his mother. She looked weak.

“Have some water, Mami,” Luisito said, giving her the last of his water.

“No, that is for you, son,” Elena said.

“No, Mami. I'm all right, please!” Luisito pleaded.

Miguel nodded at her. Elena took the water and seemed a little better.

Night fell upon them again and the chilly breeze hit Luisito. He felt sharp pains in his arms from rowing, but the mere thought of sharks and other dangers pushed him to continue.

“Don't row so fast,” Miguel repeated.

Elena opened and closed her eyes as she rested, huddled on the raft. Father and son took a longer rest from rowing and drifted, letting the waves sway the raft along its way. Finally, Luisito's eyes closed and he fell asleep.

After what seemed like just a few hours, Luisito awoke to see the sun peeking out from under the clouds. There was a gentle breeze, and Miguel put up the bed sheet to use as a sail. The breeze took them swiftly along.

Then suddenly Miguel spotted something on the horizon.

“
¡Mira!
A ship!” Miguel exclaimed. They all waved their arms. Elena sat up from her crouched position and waved. The raft almost tipped over. But the ship did not appear to see them.

“¡Aquí! ¡Aquí!”
Luisito screamed.

“¡Miren! ¡Miren acá!”
Miguel shouted. “Please look this way!

“Over here!” Elena waved frantically.

“Can't they see us?” Miguel said.

“No! Wait!” Elena cried as the ship moved farther and farther away.

Could the crew not see them or were they ignoring them? A mix of emotions was bubbling inside the Ramirez family. Nobody said what they were all thinking:
How
much
longer
can
we
survive
on
the
open
sea
with
no
food
and
no
water? Are we really going to make it?

The tension that had built up inside Miguel finally came out. He buried his hands in his face and cried. Luisito could only see his father's shoulders moving up and down as he sobbed. Elena and Luisito hugged him and wept as well.

“Maybe we shouldn't have attempted this trip,” Miguel said as he wiped tears from his eyes. “What have I put my family through?”

“Miguel, this was our decision,” Elena said, very determined. “You know we couldn't continue living in Cuba in constant fear, at least for Luisito's sake.”

Her face had more color than a few hours ago. Luisito noticed how much his mom reminded him of Abuela— beautiful and fragile but strong when she needed to be. They all sat in the raft silently, drifting without direction.

Hours passed, or maybe they were minutes. Luisito had lost all sense of time. It was so hot. He felt dizzy and light-headed. He reached for the water container, forgetting it was empty. His heart was beating rapidly, his muscles ached from rowing, and all he could think about was cold water running down his dry throat. Suddenly, he couldn't take it any longer. He cupped his hands and reached out to drink the salty ocean water.

“No, Luisito!” Elena said.

“It will make you sick, son,” Miguel said as he reached out to stop him.

“Leave me alone. I need water!” Luisito said wildly. His parents exchanged worried looks. Luisito was beginning to demonstrate the symptoms of heatstroke.

Miguel held his son back to prevent him from drinking more ocean water. He knew that his son was suffering from dehydration. He had to keep him cool without letting him drink the salty ocean water. He turned around to get his t-shirt wet and put it on Luisito's head when he heard a splash and Elena's loud gasp.

“
Ay
, Luisito!” Elena yelled, covering her face with her hands. Luisito had fallen overboard.

“Elena, help me!” Miguel shouted as he reached for his son's hands, flailing in the water.

Luisito's body was so hot from the burning sun that the warm water actually felt freezing. His feet felt too heavy to move.

“Oh, no!” he heard his mother scream repeatedly.

“Papi!” Luisito cried out as waves splashed into his mouth.

“Luisito, grab my hand!” Miguel said.

Luisito could see his father's hand like a blurry image between the waves, but each time he tried to grab it, the raft bumped into him and pushed him back.

Miguel reached for one of the oars and thrust it into the water. Luisito grabbed it and Miguel pulled him close to the raft. Then he extended his hand. Luisito felt the current push him toward the raft. He grabbed his father's fingertips.

Miguel took hold of his son by the waist and Elena helped him haul the boy into the raft. His weight almost caused it to tip over.

Both parents embraced Luisito and cried. Luisito wanted to cry, too, but for some reason tears didn't come. He kept coughing as his mother massaged his back.

“Mami . . . ,” Luisito whispered.

“Don't worry,
hijo
, everything will be fine,” Elena said, not believing her own words anymore.

Luisito laid his head down on the wooden surface and pressed his mother's hand. They drifted for a few more hours. They all felt emotionally drained.

“Are you feeling better?” Miguel asked Luisito later.

“I don't feel very well,” Luisito replied with a helpless expression.

Then, out of nowhere, they heard a noise. It came closer and closer through the waves.

“It's a boat heading right to us!” he shouted.

“No, I can't believe it!” Elena said, weeping—this time out of joy.

Miguel frantically waved his hands, rocking the raft. Luisito weakly waved one hand, smiling at last.

“It's the U.S. Coast Guard!” said Miguel joyfully.

Luisito was too weak to get up, but his parents hugged and cried over him. The Coast Guard cutter approached them and its crew helped each one get on board. They gave the family water and warm blankets.

“Sip slowly. It might make you throw up,” Elena said to Luisito when he tried to gulp down the water.

“Where are you from?” asked an officer in a white uniform who was wearing rubber gloves. “The captain of a passing cruise ship spotted your raft and called us.”

“Cuba. Coming for liberty,” Miguel said in broken English. Now he realized why the ship hadn't picked them up. Several other men asked them questions.

“He is not feeling very well,” Elena said in Spanish, interrupting the conversation and pointing to Luisito.

“
No
se
preocupe
,” replied one of the officers, who proceeded to take Luisito's vital signs.

“He is dehydrated. We need to get him on an IV,” he said to the others.

“
¿Que dijo del niño?”
Elena said, inquiring about her son.

“He will be fine, Ma'am, don't worry,” the officer told Elena in Spanish.

He then approached Miguel and asked him many questions about Cuba and about their health prior to the trip. He told the family they were about thirty miles south of Key West, Florida.

Once they reached land, an ambulance transported them to the Coast Guard station in Key West. With Luisito on a stretcher, they entered a white building, going down a long hallway and into a waiting room. Luisito observed many men and women in uniform walking up and down the hallway and into small offices. It made him nervous. He wanted to get off the stretcher.

“I am feeling better already,” he said, but the officer insisted that he not walk. They found a wheelchair for Luisito and his bottle of IV fluid. He was then rolled into a small room.

Immediately, a doctor holding some files walked in. The doctor was tall and in his mid-forties. Luisito was afraid. He didn't want to be examined by a strange foreign doctor. His father had always taken care of him in Cuba. What if they gave him shots and he couldn't even ask questions because his English was not very good?

“¿
Cuantos
años tienes
, Luisito?” Dr. Gonzalez asked.

“I am fourteen years old,” he answered. “And you speak Spanish?”

Luisito felt suddenly at ease.

“
Si
, and I am Cuban as well,” the doctor said. “Now with this IV all the fluids you lost will be replenished.”

“You are Cuban?” Luisito asked.

Dr. Gonzalez told Luisito how he had left Cuba right before the revolution. His family had arrived in San Antonio, Texas, to visit an uncle who played baseball in this country. They had heard of the unrest, and his father had decided to stay a little longer. They never returned to Cuba.

“Oh, my,” Luisito marveled at the thought that this doctor was Cuban and he spoke English. Luisito had heard stories from the teachers at his school that Cubans outside the island were not much better off in the United States, but Luisito saw that Dr. Gonzalez was working in this great big facility and that he had really nice shoes.

“Are they good to you here?” Luisito said, looking around the room.

“Very good, very good indeed!” The doctor smiled. “And we are going to treat you very well, too.”

After Dr. Gonzalez checked Luisito, he was wheeled to another room where technicians took X-rays of his lungs and drew his blood.

“Don't worry, Luisito,” the doctor said. “This is normal procedure.”

His parents soon joined him. Luisito saw the bandages on their arms where their blood had been drawn, too. He watched from his room as an officer walked down the
hall eating a chocolate candy bar. He stared as the officer bit into the chewy, mouth-watering sweet. Luisito knew what chocolate tasted like. He remembered the time he went to Coppelia, the ice cream parlor in Havana, on his last birthday. He had waited in line forever, but the treat was delicious!