The Miracle at St. Bruno's

by Philippa Carr

  “One is no less Christian,” I cried, “because one does not believe in exactly the way you have decided all men should.”

  He stepped toward me and with an impatient gesture I thrust him aside. As I did so, the cross fell from his hand.

  One of the watching sailors cried out something which I did not understand. I was not particularly interested because I did not realize then how significant this could be.

  We had sailed into smooth warmer seas.

  Now it was a pleasure to be on deck. The Captain was anxious, for there was not enough wind to sail this mighty ship.

  For two days the weather remained fair and warm with a slight breeze; then even that dropped. There was no breath of air; the sea was so calm it looked as if it had been painted—no ripple, no stirring of wind; the sea cooed quietly about us; we could walk about the vessel as though we were on dry land.

  The following day when we awoke the ship was still; there was no vestige of wind; her sails were useless; she was a floating castle on a still and silent sea. Before that day was out we knew that we were becalmed.

  The sun was warm; we had traveled many miles south. How pleasant it seemed at first to walk decks and companionways which were as steady as they would have been in dock.

  We were on the deck every day—in the company of Gregory and Rackell; Jennet worked often with the sailors; I had seen her barefooted, swabbing the decks, singing as she did so; I had seen her in the galleys, ladling soup into the dishes.

  I had seen too men’s eyes following her; and Jennet was aware of it too; she blushed constantly, as much as ever, but her big Spaniard was never far off with his knife ready. He was a king among the sailors; he had got a woman, which was what none of the others had. I knew they thought he should have shared her, but I was glad for Jennet’s sake that he would have none of that. Still, I thought how unsafe it was for her to go among them. They eyed us sometimes—beautiful Honey, now quite large with child; and myself, the flashing-eyed virgin, who they would know would fight with tooth and claw if attacked. It was not Honey’s pregnancy or my fiery spirit which saved us; it was the Captain’s orders. Lashes for those who attempted to molest us and for any who succeeded in doing so, death. So John Gregory had told us.

  We ate in the Captain’s cabin and he talked of his anxieties.

  The storm had been violent and threatened to shatter our vessel and throw us all into the merciless sea; but in such an emergency it was necessary to work all the time. There was no giving up, no time to spare. Every man was fighting for the life of the ship and that meant his own.

  But to be becalmed was different. There was nothing to be done but look out on that sea which was like one painted on a canvas, so still was it. There was little to be done but watch a clear bright sky for the sign of a cloud and a little wind. The sails hung uselessly. The sun was growing warm; if the calm continued there would not be enough food to carry us to our next port of call, where we could replenish stores. And worst of all, idle men were dangerous men.

  The Captain prayed for a wind.

  “A wind,” I said to Honey, “will carry us nearer to that mysterious destination. Should we pray for a wind? Or are we better off on this ship?”

  Honey said: “We must pray for a wind, for the men grow restive and restive men are dangerous.”

  And she too prayed for a wind.

  We were on deck for the fresh air. Another day and night had passed and still no sign of a wind. The tension was growing; it was becoming increasingly obvious. Groups of idle men stood about on the decks, murmuring together.

  Food would have to be rationed; water was to be used with greater care than ever. And there was little that could be done but wait for a breeze. The great galleon was powerless; she was nothing but a hulk full of anxious, discontented men.

  I had noticed one of the men eyeing me speculatively. I knew the meaning of that look. I had seen it in Jake Pennlyon’s eyes. Perhaps John Gregory noticed it too, for he hurried us down below.

  Later that day I saw the man again; he was close to the rail where I was accustomed to stand. I heard his muttering and believe his words were directed toward me.

  I was afraid. But I assured myself that the Captain’s orders must be obeyed and that I was safe from all men on this ship. What awaited me at the end of the journey I could not know, but I was protected here because I was being preserved for some mysterious mission.

  I had reckoned without the boredom of a becalmed ship—and the anxieties which mingled with the boredom. Little to do all day but watch for a wind and the possibility of death from the elements which, fierce or quiet, could be lethal.

  When men are in such a situation they take risks.

  I was aware of him; there were rings in his ears, and his black eyes flashed in his dark brown face. He sidled closer. John Gregory moved toward me, but the man came too. I turned to John and said: “Should we go below?” As I moved forward the dark man put out his foot; I tripped; he caught me and for a moment I was held close against him. I saw the dark, lustful eyes close … the flash of yellow teeth.

  I screamed, but he did not release his hold; he started to drag me away.

  But John Gregory was there. They were both holding me, pulling me this way and that.

  The Captain appeared I did not know from where, unless he was always watching when we were on deck. He shouted an order to a group of men standing by. For a few terrifying seconds everything seemed to be as still as the ocean. No one moved. The thought flashed into my mind: This is mutiny. The Captain spoke again. His voice rang out clear and firm with an authority to which those men were accustomed to respond.

  Two men came forward; they seized the dark man and held him firmly. He was marched away.

  “You should go below,” said the Captain to me.

  He was flogged and the ship’s company were assembled to see it done.

  We of course did not witness this. We remained below in the Captain’s cabin, but we knew what was happening. I could picture it as though I were there—that man tied to the whipping post; his back bare, the terrible whip descending, leaving his flesh torn, raw and bleeding. I could imagine his agony and I wanted to run up and stop it.

  The Captain came down to the cabin later.

  “He has had his punishment,” he said. “It will be a lesson.”

  I shivered, and he went on: “He will survive. Thirty lashes. Fifty would have killed him.”

  “Was so much necessary to teach a lesson?” I asked.

  “Lashes are the only lessons which they understand.”

  “And all because he touched me!”

  “I have my duty,” he said.

  “And that is to protect me.”

  He nodded.

  “He will never forget me, that man,” I said, “and he will never forgive me.”

  “He will, let us hope, never forget the need to obey orders.”

  “It is disturbing that such a thing has happened because of me.”

  “Let us renew our prayers for a breeze,” said the Captain.

  Another day passed, a day of breathless calm.

  I was afraid to go on deck after what had happened; I knew I should not meet this man because he would be too sick of his wounds to stand about and stare at me.

  “The men said he nearly died,” reported Jennet. “The whip is a terrible thing. ’Twill mark his back forever.”

  “Poor man, I’m sorry for him.”

  “He’d been boasting he’d take you. He said he didn’t care what you were. He said he didn’t care if you’d come from the Devil, he was going to have you.”

  She was wearing a little image of the Virgin around her neck. Her lover had given it to her as a talisman to keep her from harm.

  “What’s that?” I had asked.

  “’Tis the Virgin,” she had told me. “She protects women.”

  Now she was uneasy and wanted to give it to me.

  “Mistress,” she pleaded, “take my Virgin. Wear i
t around your neck.”

  “You need it, Jennet. You go among the sailors.”

  She shook her head fearfully.

  “What’s the matter, Jennet?” I asked.

  “’Tis what they’re saying, Mistress. ’Tis what they’re saying about you.”

  “What are they saying about me?”

  “When they were lashing him he called out. He said it was the Devil in you that had urged him on. He said you were a witch and a heretic. You’d cast down the priest’s holy cross, he said, and you’d brought evil onto the ship. He said witches brew up storms and didn’t we have such a storm as they’d rarely seen before! Then they all said a man had nearly died through you and now there’s the calm. They frighten me, Mistress. So … take the Virgin. She’ll protect you.”

  A cold fear took possession of me then. I recalled that moment of hesitation when the Captain had commanded them to seize my attacker. I knew that mutiny was in the air and for me there was a personal terror for many of these men believed me to be a witch.

  What did they do to witches? I asked myself.

  And the calm continued.

  I was out on deck gazing toward that far horizon; the sky a delicate blue, the sea like a sheet of silk, not a ripple; silence everywhere.

  On the deck a group of men watched us furtively. John Gregory was nervous, Richard Rackell was pale.

  “It is very hot up here,” said Gregory. “I think we should go down.”

  “Not hastily,” I said. “But presently.”

  Somehow I knew that a hurried retreat would have pressed those men into action.

  I had been afraid many times since I had stepped onto this ship, but I think I was then living through some of the most terrifying moments.

  I gazed across that great arc of the sky; I stared out to the horizon; I asked John Gregory if there was any hope of a change in the weather—and all the time I was conscious of those men watching me.

  At length I said: “I’ve had enough. Let us go below.”

  Slowly I walked to the companionway. Every second I expected a rustle from behind, a scurry of feet, strong arms about me. I knew that they were ready and waiting for some sort of signal. Perhaps I would hear the words: “Heretic! Witch!” What did they do in Spain to heretics? They tied them to a stake; they placed wood at their feet; then they lighted the fagots. The bodies of heretics were consumed by the flames, a foretaste on earth of that fate which many believed would pursue them through eternity.

  I was in revolt, as I always had been since my mother had taught me, against such bigotry. I could never believe that leading the good life depended on a single mode of belief. But I was now afraid.

  The Captain came to his cabin, to which we had been taken.

  He said: “I think it would be wise if you remained here until we sail. It is not good for the men in the mood they are in to see you.”

  I nodded. I was in agreement with him now.

  The door was locked. John Gregory remained on guard with Richard Rackell and we stayed in the cabin.

  Night came. Every sound set my heart beating wildly. I could picture them all storming the cabin, battering down the door and seizing me. I could almost hear their shouts of “Witch” and “Heretic.”

  They wanted to destroy me because I was on board and kept apart from them. Women on board—three of them, and only one serving the purpose for which these men would consider they were meant. Jennet—the property of Big Alfonso. Honey and myself kept under strict guard by the Captain’s orders. And everywhere that calm which was more devastating than the storm.

  I slept but fitfully.

  I whispered to Honey: “The Captain cannot guard us forever.”

  “He will guard us for as long as he must,” she answered.

  She had a blind faith in him.

  I wondered afresh about Honey, who it seemed was a widow. But her plight and the baby she carried seemed to have kept the loss of Edward from her mind. I pondered too on this deep feeling of which I was conscious between herself and this Captain. It was there, some understanding. I wondered whether it was love.

  Then I thought of Jake Pennlyon and my heart leaped, for I thought constantly: He will come for me. He will look for me and find me.

  No ship could sail on this calm sea; was that the reason why this fear was with me? He could not come to me because the Rampant Lion would lie as still and helpless as the galleon.

  Fear was back. We were trapped in a miniature floating castle; there was acute danger all about us and our protectors would be helpless against a band of desperate men.

  I must face the fact that it was only a matter of waiting.

  Morning came—the still and beautiful morning. The sun rose touching the sea with scarlet and began its climb into the sky.

  Another day—of breathless calm and growing tension.

  We stayed in the cabin. Every time there were footsteps outside the door we started.

  The Captain had set the men tasks to perform. They could not swab the decks because there was a shortage of water, but they could carry trays of burning pitch through the mess decks to fumigate them. The odor which came from them was fetid and nauseating. He set them trying to catch fish—a useful occupation, for they could cook what they caught and share it with their comrades.

  But even so the tension grew. While they fished they talked of the heretic witch who had set a spell on their ship and was bringing disaster to them all.

  Jennet brought news to us.

  “The men be getting together this afternoon,” she said. “’Tis a plan of action. They be working out what they’m going to do.”

  Her eyes were wide and frightened. She was fond of me.

  “Wear the Virgin, Mistress,” she said. “It’ll save ’ee.”

  And I put it on, as I said, to please her, but in truth I was ready to clutch anything that could help me and it might do me some good.

  They were meeting that afternoon. I was in the cabin and Honey was with me. I did not tell her what Jennet had told me. It would be bad for the baby if she were too frightened.

  I imagined what would happen: the sound of feet on the companionway, the hammer of fists on the door.

  I made an excuse to leave the cabin. Jennet was at the door, her eyes round with horror.

  “What’s happening, Jennet?” I asked.

  “They’re up there on the deck,” she said. “None will stop them, Mistress, not even the Captain. They say it’s black magic…”

  “They’re coming for me … !”

  “Oh, Mistress, it be terrible.”

  I started up the companionway. She was pulling at my arm. “Don’t go. If they do see you they’d go mad. You’ve got the Virgin, Mistress. Pray to the Virgin. She protects women.”

  I could hear the shouts of the men.

  Jennet whispered: “They’m saying you’re a witch. They blame you for all that’s gone wrong. Oh, Mistress, they be building up the fagots on the deck … there. They’ve got the stake to tie you to. It’s what they do to witches.”

  “Oh, God, Jennet,” I said. “This is the end … the terrible end.”

  “Nay, Mistress, it must not be. I know somewhere we could hide. Alfonso showed me. He puts me in it sometimes … when he won’t be there to look after me. Come quick.”

  I followed her, not noticing where we went. In my imagination I could hear the crackle of flames, I could feel my scorched and burning flesh.

  I was near to death—horrible death—and the realization was terrifying.

  Jennet opened a hatch and we were in a dark hole. The smell was nauseating, but the dark brought comfort.

  But for how long could we remain hidden?

  Jennet was praying to the Virgin, the protectress of women; and never was a woman more in need of protection.

  I prayed with her … prayed for a miracle.

  I don’t know how long we stayed in the dark hole. I only know that the miracle happened. After we had been there for what seemed a
very long time, the realization came to us that something was happening. The ship was moving.

  Jennet cried: “It’s over. The calm’s over.”

  She lifted the hatch and stepped out, but she would not let me follow her.

  “You stay there where you’m safe. I’ll come back.”

  In a short time she returned.

  Her face was shining with joy.

  “It’s over,” she cried. “There’s a fine breeze. They’re all excited. Nobody’s thinking of you now. You’re safe.”

  Yes, the miracle had happened.

  What a glorious sight was a ship with its sails bellowing out in the wind, seeming to dip with joy into the ocean as she forged ahead. The wonderful wind was carrying us onward. The sea had become alive again. The calm was over.

  Tension eased. There was too much to be done to give the men opportunities to plan mutiny. Orders were shouted and cheerfully obeyed; there was extra food and drink for all to celebrate; there was a thanksgiving service which we did not attend.

  A week after the calm we sighted land. We first saw a snow-topped mountain far off, a landmark in the ocean.

  The Captain said: “You should prepare to go ashore now. This is the end of your journey.”

  We took our few belongings—they were not much, only the clothes we had made for ourselves—and we climbed down into the boat and were rowed ashore. We looked back at the galleon—majestic in the waters—and we knew that we had said good-bye to the old way of life and were embarking on the unknown.

  At the Hacienda

  ON THE SHORE A party of men with mules were awaiting us. We were clearly expected. I suppose our ship would have been sighted a day before it arrived. We had seen the conical snow-topped mountain jutting out from the ocean; very soon after they must have seen the galleon from the land.

  The Captain, Richard Rackell and John Gregory were among the small party which accompanied us; and as I looked back at the galleon and thought of those days when we had lain becalmed and the terrible fear which had come to me then I could not suppress a feeling of relief and an immense curiosity and excitement. I believed that soon we would discover what our abduction was all about.