The Island of Lost Horses

by Stacy Gregg

Sometimes I notice Juan looking at me and when our eyes meet he does not look away – instead he smiles at me!

  Most of the sailors are uncouth and none can read. Only Juan takes books to bed with him every night. He reads out loud. I can hear him muttering the words in the bunk beneath me.

  “Why do you read like that?” I ask him.

  “We have a new world ahead of us, Felipe,” Juan says. “I am teaching myself to read. I plan to become a learned man.”

  “I am already well educated,” I sniff.

  “Then you can become anything you want to be,” Juan smiles at me, “or anyone.”

  What I want most is to be a girl again. At night I lie on my bunk with my bag tucked under my head as a makeshift pillow. My chest feels like it will burst out from beneath the gauze bandages that still bind me. How long can this voyage last?

  F.M.

  24th October, 1493

  Oh, how sick I feel!

  I can barely hold my quill to write these words. For six days now the storms have wracked the ship. By day I am forced to carry out my duties, unable to stomach any food or drink. By sunset I am exhausted, and yet I find it impossible to sleep. With each surge and swell of the sea I retch over the side of my bunk.

  My beloved Cara fares just as badly as I do. I visit her every day in the bowels of the ship. The stench is so bad I gag and cannot breathe. I try to tempt her to eat her hay and to drink the fresh water I have brought her. She takes tiny sips, and barely touches her feed and the look on her face makes my heart break.

  She is a noble horse, from the finest bloodlines, and she was never intended for such a journey. And yet here we both are, out at sea, with no sign of land, and with the food and drink on our ship now running in short supply. Tonight at dinner the biscuits were alive and crawling with weevils and the salted meat had begun to rot a little. Still, I ate my share. I must keep up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before we reach the New World?

  30th October, 1493

  Last night Juan stopped reading his book and stuck his head over my hammock.

  “What is that you are always writing?” he asked.

  “I keep a diary,” I told him.

  “Can I read it?” he asked.

  “Certainly not!” I replied. “It is private.”

  Juan was disappointed. “What’s it about then?” he said.

  “Me – my life,” I said.

  “Tell me about your life, Felipe,” Juan said.

  And so I did, in a way. I told him about my mother’s death and my father’s imprisonment at the hands of Tomas de Torquemada. I missed out some parts, of course – I didn’t tell of Princess Joanna’s refusal to help me. Now that I am away from Spain and no longer fear the charge of treason, I can write what I truly feel about Joanna. It hurts my heart greatly when I think of her. I had considered her my dearest friend, a sister, but when I needed her most she abandoned me. I want to hate her – but all I feel is pity. I know Joanna’s heart too well. She will regret what she has done to me – her betrayal will be a torment that eats away at her soul.

  “What about your story?” I said to Juan.

  “There is nothing to tell,” he insisted. “I do not dwell on my past. It is the future that excites me. When we reach the New World I will be given my own land to care for and I shall raise animals and plant crops and have horses, lots of horses.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said.

  Juan smiled. “I am glad you think so.”

  He gazed at me, his eyes fixed on mine.

  “Why are you looking at me strangely?” I asked him.

  “No reason,” Juan said. “Good night, Felipe.”

  “Good night, Juan.”

  31st October, 1493

  When I woke this morning the sky was tinged with crimson.

  “It is a bad sign,” Juan said. “Red night, shepherd’s delight, red morning – sailor’s warning.”

  Sure enough, soon there was thunder in the air. The red skies clouded black and the sea began to churn.

  The waves rose up to such a height they threatened to swamp the ship, and the rain fell so hard that it drenched my clothes and stung my cheeks.

  Yet still the boatswain ordered me to climb the mast to the lookout.

  “Get up there, boy!” he shouted at me above the wind. “Be my eyes and tell me what you see!”

  “In this weather?” I was horrified. “The rain is too dense. All I shall see is the storm engulfing us!”

  “Do you defy me, boy?” the boatswain roared. “Get up there now!”

  And so I grasped the wet ropes in my hands and I climbed up, one rung after the other, hanging on for dear life as the ship lurched and pitched with every wave that struck the bow.

  Halfway up the mast, I looked down and realised the madness of the task I had been set. I could barely see the deck! How on earth would I possibly see to the horizon?

  “Sir!” I shouted through the storm. “I can’t see a thing! I—”

  At that moment a rogue wave struck the carraca with such force that I was thrown into mid-air. As I fell, I managed to grasp on to a sail rope, sliding my way down. There was a searing pain as the rope burnt my hands, but I clung on. Freefalling would mean certain death and the rope slowed me just enough to save my life. All the same, I hit the deck hard and I must have struck my head because everything went black.

  When I woke again, there was no more storm. I was inside the doctor’s cabin on a bunk and I was in dry clothes. I should have been grateful that I was alive, and that I had been taken care of. Instead, I was terrified. Someone had undressed me and changed me into dry things. And in doing so they must have seen the bindings on my chest!

  I clutched at my shirt. “Oh, no! Oh, no!”

  “It’s all right.”

  It was Juan.

  “Nobody saw anything,” he told me. “I was the one who carried you here and changed your clothes. So you see, you are safe. No one knows your secret except me.”

  I looked at him astonished, and a little afraid. “What will you do? Now that you know what I really am?”

  Juan shook his head. “Oh, Felipa!” he laughed. “I have known that you were a girl from the first day we met!”

  He stood up beside my bunk and reached out to take my hand in his own.

  “It was your hands that gave you away – so slender and beautiful. Who else but a noblewoman would have such delicate, milk-white fingers?”

  He turned my hand over and opened my palm, all red and raw from the rope burns. “Here,” he said, “I have some salve for your burns…”

  I gasped as the ointment touched the wounds. “You knew all this time? Why did you not confront me?”

  Juan smiled. “And miss the chance to watch you try to behave like a ship’s boy? Why should I tell you and ruin my fun?”

  Abandoned

  I was supposed to leave at dawn, but every time I talked about going home Annie found something new to add to the list of chores.

  By lunchtime we’d completely rebuilt the pens and even hammered up a solid wall of timber on one side to block the incoming wind. Then we put up the storm shutters and boarded up the cottage windows.

  Finally, I couldn’t see anything else that needed doing. Then Annie said she wanted me to go with her to the Bonefish Marshes.

  “Annie, I can’t!” I told her. “I need to get back to the Phaedra. Mom is going to be beside herself…”

  Annie grunted. “Can’t get dem horses back on ma own, Bee-a-trizz. I need your help, child. De horses need your help. If we go now we can be back by nightfall.”

  I groaned. “Mom is going to kill me…”

  “Yes, she is!”

  I turned round and there – standing in the middle of Annie’s yard next to the bottle tree – was Mom.

  She looked exhausted. She had on her tramping boots and a backpack. She must have come overland through the jungle – there was no other way for her to get here since I had taken the Zodiac.

&nbs
p; “Mom?”

  “Beatriz,” Mom took off her backpack and let it drop to the ground, “do you realise what you have put me through? I have been out of my mind with worry! I must have criss-crossed this island three times trying to track you down! Luckily I spotted the Zodiac on the mudflats and from there I saw the tyre tracks through the jungle leading me here… I thought I would never find you!”

  Annie turned to me. “Bee-a-trizz? I thought you phoned your mama to say you were safe?”

  “Safe?” My mom’s joy was very quickly being replaced by outrage. “You’re not safe here, Beatriz! There is a storm coming. Not just a little one – a hurricane. They’re saying that it will sweep across the whole of the Bahamas in about twenty-four hours…”

  “I know!” I said. “But I had to help Annie…”

  “Annie can’t stay here either!” Mom said. “She has to come with us. When that storm strikes the winds will reach one hundred and fifty miles per hour. It doesn’t matter how many shutters you put on this shack – it isn’t going to be able to stand up to that sort of force!”

  Annie looked insulted. “Ma crib ain’t no shack. It survive many storms and come out de other side to tell de tale!”

  “Look, Annie,” Mom backtracked, “all I’m saying is it would be safer if you came with us. We can make it back to the Phaedra tonight and then in the morning as soon as it’s light we’ll go back up the coast to Marsh Harbour. We can moor at the marina and then bring you back home after the storm has passed.”

  “No!” I said, suddenly realising that there was no way I could leave the Duchess to face this storm without me. “Don’t you get it, Mom? Annie’s not leaving, and… and I’m not leaving. The horses are still out there. We’ve got to bring them in off the Bonefish Marshes.”

  That was when Mom lost it.

  “Beatriz!” she said. “Enough of this nonsense! There are no horses here and even if there were, they can look after themselves! They’re wild animals, for goodness’ sake!”

  “They can’t!” I said, shaking my head. “Mom, last time there was a hurricane half the herd got killed. And this storm is much, much worse…”

  “And that’s why we must leave!” Mom said. “It’s a matter of hours away and it’s going to destroy everything in its path. We need to pack up and head for Marsh Harbour.”

  “I’m not going,” I said quietly. “The horses need me.”

  Mom turned to Annie. “This is your fault,” she said. “Filling her head with nonsense! Now, are you coming?”

  Annie shook her head. “You can’t run from de storm.”

  “Oh, really?” Mom grabbed her backpack. “Watch me!”

  She pulled her pack on and then she stomped over and grabbed me by the arm.

  “Ow!” I tried to pull free but she had hold of me really tight. “Mom! You’re hurting me!”

  “Beatriz,” Mom said. “Listen to me. You are coming with me and we are leaving right now. We are going back to get the Zodiac and then we are getting back to the Phaedra.”

  Mom looked at Annie. “I’m asking you for the last time,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you here, but I can’t make you go. It’s your choice.”

  Annie stared back at my mom. “Annie ain’t leavin’,” she said. “I gots to carry dem horses back. I sure could use help. You can stay here wit’ me in ma crib. You be safe here.”

  “Thank you,” Mom said, “but we have to go.”

  With her hand still gripping my arm, Mom marched me off.

  I’d never seen her so angry. She gave me a lecture that didn’t stop the whole way back through the jungle. I didn’t say a word – and I kept up my silent treatment all the way back to the Zodiac.

  “I know what you’re doing, Beatriz,” Mom said as she pushed the Zodiac into the water and lowered the outboard. “Well, that’s fine. But if you think I am leaving you on an island in the middle of a tropical hurricane then you are even crazier than that old woman!”

  She was trying to provoke me, but I wasn’t going to bite. It wasn’t until we were back on the Phaedra that I snapped.

  “I tell you what, Bee,” Mom said cheerfully, trying to act like we were friends again. “Once we get to the marina, how about we stay the night at Wally’s? We can rent a room there and call room service for dinner – conch burgers, key lime pie – the works. Would you like that?”

  “Ohmygod!” I was horrified. “You think I want room service when my horse is going to be stuck out there in that storm? Do you even realise what you’ve done, Mom? Those horses are going to die. Annie can’t bring the herd in by herself.”

  “Saving human life is more important,” Mom said. “Annie is an adult and she made her choice – she just made the wrong one.”

  “You think everybody has to do exactly as you say. Like you’re the boss of everyone,” I said. “Well, you’re not. As soon as this is over, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get on a plane and go back to Florida, and I don’t care what you say – I am going to live with Dad!”

  “No, you’re not!” Mom said.

  “Yes, I am!”

  “No, you’re not!” she shouted. “Because he doesn’t want you!”

  I saw Mom’s face sort of crumple with shock at her own words. As for me, I couldn’t speak. I felt like I couldn’t even breathe.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Beatriz,” Mom stammered. “I didn’t mean to… I should never have said… I’m so sorry…”

  “Is it true?”

  Mom didn’t answer.

  “Is it true?!” I was shaking so hard.

  “He’s got problems, Bee. He can’t cope with anything more on his plate.”

  “So I’m a problem? That’s how he sees me?”

  All this time with my big talk about going back to Florida and Mom knew all along that Dad didn’t want me.

  Mom had started crying now. And even more than the shouting that really upset me because my Mom never, ever cries. “I shouldn’t have told you,” she said. “I lost my temper. I’m sorry…”

  I couldn’t take any more so I stormed downstairs and threw myself down face first on my bunk.

  “Beatriz?” Mom was standing in the doorway, sniffing quietly. I said nothing. I didn’t even raise my head.

  “We can discuss this later, OK, honey?” Mom said gently. “I have to get the boat ready to go.”

  Mom stood there for a moment and then she turned and went back up the stairs.

  She’s still upstairs now. I can hear her up there crashing around, battening down the Phaedra, preparing to leave. And I’m lying here on my bunk, writing in my diary.

  When I was in Mrs Moskowitz’s class, she told us that a diary is a version of events. It’s never the whole story.

  I used to imagine that I had this perfect life just waiting for me in Florida and that Mom was the one to blame for keeping me stuck here. That was my version.

  And now I can’t pretend it’s true any more.

  F.M.

  21st November, 1493

  The boatswain sent me up the mast this afternoon and made me stay up there for hours in the hot sun.

  I was desperately thirsty and I was about to beg to be let down when I saw something black on the horizon. It was no more than a speck at first, and I did not dare to mention it for fear of being mocked. So I kept my eye on the speck and very soon it had become a bulge. I knew that my eyes were not deceiving me.

  “Land ahoy!”

  As soon as the two words left my lips men began shouting. They crowded the deck to the port side and looked out over the sea, trying to catch a glimpse of land. Others began to climb the ropes alongside me. “Out of the way!” the boatswain growled at them as he climbed up with his eyeglass and peered out at the horizon.

  “It’s true!” he confirmed. “Land ahoy! Less than a day’s sail from here!”

  There was merriment and dancing on the ship that night. Suddenly the men were full of stories, talking about what they would do when we arrived in the New World
. I did not join in their carousing. I ate my ration of weevil-ridden biscuit and rank salted beef and then I went below deck to visit Cara.

  Rats scuttled in front of my feet as I made my way through the muck, gagging at the stench. The vermin had grown in numbers during the voyage and they had no fear.

  Once I found a fat brown rat gorging himself in Cara’s feed bucket while she was trying to eat!

  Poor Cara. She has grown so thin on the long voyage. Her muscles have wasted from standing still for so long. Her coat, once so glossy and fine, has fallen out in great patches and her blue eyes are so sad.

  “Be strong, my dear Cara!” I whispered excitedly to her as I reached her side, “for I have seen land. In one more day we will be there and all of this will be over.”

  I stayed with Cara for a long time, brushing her and telling her about the new life that lay ahead of us when we arrived in Hispaniola. When I said good night to her at last tears pricked my eyes as I hugged her tight. “We did it,” I murmured to Cara. “We survived the journey, and now, at last, we will be free…”

  F.M.

  30th November, 1493

  Oh, what a naive fool I have been! To think that I truly believed that when we reached the New World, Cara Blanca and I would be safe and happy!

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  We arrived here to find that the forty men Columbus had left behind were all dead. Some had been killed fighting with the native people. Others had died from diseases. Behind them they left a legacy of fear and hatred with the local tribesmen.

  The colony that Columbus christened Isabella is now in a state of chaos. Sailors are not farmers and they haven’t a clue how to settle this land. All they do is fight.

  I have taken to hiding myself away from the village settlement. I took my bag and found a quiet sheltered place near a waterfall in the jungle. Here I’ve built a makeshift shelter out of old ship’s canvas bound on to tree branches for me and Cara to share.

  I keep Cara with me always. Her strength improves daily. The other horses on our voyage have not been so fortunate. Taken by the sailors, they’ve been forced straight into hard labour, chained and harnessed to pull logs out of the forest for house building. All this despite the fact that their bones are sticking out through their coats from hunger!