by Stacy Gregg
13th December, 1493
Even in our hideaway I worry for our safety. The men are hungry and they prowl the island, thieving from each other to survive. The ship’s supplies have now completely run out and the settlement has become an evil and dangerous place. Admiral Columbus appears to have lost any control he once had. The fighting grows worse and I now carry a knife with me in my belt and sleep with it at the ready…
Midnight
I was woken from my sleep to the sound of voices; footsteps creeping close by. It was a pitch-black night and my last candle, my only source of light, had been snuffed out. I reached for my knife, but what good could it do me when I could not even see my hand in front of my face?
“Who’s there?” I tried to make my voice deep and fearsome, but the sound that came from my throat was girlish and scared. Then I heard Cara stomp and let out a terrified whinny. They had hold of her! In the cover of darkness they were taking my horse!
“Stop!” I called out for all the good it would do. I could hear the men – there were at least two of them. They had untied her. They were taking my Cara!
I could feel my heart slamming against my ribs as I held out the knife and walked into the darkness.
There! Two silhouettes against the black night sky. “I can see you!” I shouted. “Let go of my horse!”
One of the men laughed. They had her by the rope and she was kicking out wildly. There was nothing I could do.
And then, right in front of them, appeared a dark figure holding a sword aloft.
“Get away from her now!”
I heard the clash and scrape of metal, and a cry of pain. By the time I had reached Cara, the two men were gone and Juan was standing there, holding on to Cara’s lead rope and soothing her. I threw my arms round him and hugged him for I had truly thought that Cara was lost.
“It’s all right.” Juan held me tight. “They will not return. Not tonight at least.”
Juan stayed with Cara that night and kept watch. All the same, I did not sleep. I do not think I will ever be able to sleep again. I sat awake and lit the last remnants of my candle to make this entry in my diary. I am watching it, my eyes fixed on the flame as it burns low. It will be gone by dawn. I will face the next night in darkness. I cannot expect Juan to guard me again. And what if the men come back? What then?
14th December, 1493
What a horror greeted me this morning! I had gone to fetch some water from the village when I saw the carcass of a beast roasting over an open fire. As I got closer I realised it was not a cow or a pig, but a horse! So that’s what the midnight raid had been for! The men had been trying to steal Cara to eat her!
I felt so disgusted, I fell to my knees and threw up. I forgot about the water and ran back to Juan.
“This isn’t a new world,” I told him. “It is a hell where men kill each other and their animals too. As long as we stay here we shall never be safe. We are leaving.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Juan asked.
“Steal a ship,” I said, suddenly struck by the idea. “Take it under cover of darkness… tomorrow night.”
Juan stared at me for what felt like hours and then finally said, “Felipa, you are right. This is no place to live. The two of us shall leave together.”
I looked at him, quite alarmed. “Not the two of us,” I said. “All of us. You, me and Cara, and the other horses too!”
“The other horses?” Juan was shocked. “Felipa, how many do you plan to take with us?”
“All of them,” I said.
25th April, 2014 – onboard the Phaedra
I shouldn’t even be writing this. I don’t have much time. But if anything should happen to me, then this diary will be the only record of what went on. And Mom, if you are reading this, I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. I’m not doing this because I’m angry at you. I know you were only trying to protect me – I know that’s why you never told me the truth about Dad.
I have to go back to Annie’s. There’s no way she can get the horses to the shelter on her own. They will die if I go with you to Marsh Harbour. So you see, I have no choice.
This must be how Felipa felt when she made the decision to leave Hispaniola. I bet she felt braver than me, though. Mostly right now I am terrified.
I just lowered the Zodiac down into the water. The waves are already getting pretty big and the wind is really gusty. I guess that storm really is coming. The water is choppy and it’s pitch black and for just a moment I think about forgetting my plan. A burger and fries at Wally’s is sounding pretty good right now…
Mom. If you are reading this, I love you, OK? I’m going to put both diaries in my backpack now and get in the Zodiac and go before I change my mind.
Wish me luck.
Love always, your daughter, Beatriz.
F.M.
5th December, 1493
“It is madness,” Juan said when I told him my plan. “Even under the cover of darkness…”
“What choice do we have?” I said. “Leave the horses here to be worked to death or eaten? We must take them all.”
Juan sighed. “Then may God protect us! At midnight I shall climb aboard the caravel moored at the jetty and prepare it to set sail. While I’m doing this you gather the mares. Then we will load them together. The stallions will be harder – two at a time is the most you can handle or they will fight. We will load them onboard last and then leave.”
***
That evening, I sat and plaited bands of flax into a long rope and from this I formed a cobra – a series of headcollars to string on to the mares, tying them together.
By the time the headcollars were finished it was midnight. There was just a fingernail sliver of moon as I set off for the village. I could make out shadows in the darkness but not much else as I crept around the yards. Juan would already be at the jetty preparing the caravel to set sail. Cara waited patiently as I gathered the four other mares. I harnessed Cara at the front and mounted up on her to lead the others.
She fretted and danced beneath me as we set off through the village.
“Shhh, my girl,” I soothed her. The soft earth dampened the sound of the mares’ hooves. All the same, it was terrifying to lead my procession past the village huts. It would take only one sailor to wake and it would be over.
We came out of the village and down on to the sandy beach. I let the mares trot now, the soft sand muffling their hoofbeats.
It wasn’t until we reached the wooden jetty that the clattering of the five mares’ hooves on timber echoed dangerously in the night air.
“The village is too far away for them to hear,” Juan tried to reassure me as I leapt down from Cara’s back and led the mares towards the caravel.
We used Juan’s blindfold trick on all five mares and they loaded onboard the small boat easily. We hitched them to the rails, then we went back together on foot to get the stallions.
Death at the hands of the sailors had already claimed two stallions. There were four left and Juan and I had agreed that if we split up then we could each manage two at a time.
At the edge of the village, he gave me a smile and whispered, “See you at the ship.” And then he disappeared off into the darkness. Looking back, I wish with all my heart I had said something to him. But how could I have known what was to happen next?
My two stallions – a bay and a pinto – were the property of Columbus, kept in the pens near his dwelling. They gave me no trouble as I put headcollars on both and led them back through the village, down to the beach, across the jetty and all the way to the caravel.
I loaded the stallions onboard, tying them to the forecastle of the caravel, well away from the mares. And then I waited.
Juan’s stallions had been on the other side of the village, a little further away than mine, but all the same he was taking too long. Where was he?
The arrival of the stallions on the caravel had made the mares restless. They were stamping and fretting about. Then one
of the stallions let out a shrill clarion call.
“Shush!” I told the horses. “Do you want to give us away with your nonsense?” I went out on to the jetty and paced back and forth, my stomach in a tight knot. Where was Juan? He’d never have taken this long unless…
And then I saw a terrifying sight. On to the beach there emerged a gang of sailors holding lit torches. They were moving swiftly towards the jetty.
Juan!
Oh, where was he?
I could hear the shouts and cries of the sailors. Soon they would be on the jetty. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go now or I would be taken captive by the mob and my fate would be swift and certain death.
I ran to the side of the caravel and began to untie the mooring ropes. They were heavy and thick, wrapped tight round the wooden posts of the jetty, and my hands worked feverishly to loosen them. I untied the ship at three points and then I heaved as hard as I could on the wooden ramp and let it fall into the water below. We were free of the jetty, but I didn’t have much time. The men were closing in.
A caravel is a smaller vessel than the vast carraca on which we had travelled to get here and Juan had already prepared it for departure, hoisting the sails and packing the chests with provisions. All I needed was a gust of wind to catch the mainsail and…
There it was! The sail puffed out and stiffened.
Yes! The caravel was moving!
I grabbed the wheel to steer. We were away from the jetty, but the sailors were not about to give up yet. They were piling into rowing boats and I could hear their cries as they exhorted each other to take the strain!
Pulling in unison, they rowed hard out. They were moving faster than the caravel, swifter than the wind could carry me. I couldn’t do a thing. They would catch us before we could leave the bay!
The rowers were preparing to come alongside and board the caravel when suddenly we rounded the point of the bay. The northerly breeze here was strong and powerful. It filled the sails with a sudden gust and as it did so I felt the caravel surge forward, cresting the waves as we sped out of their reach to the open sea!
“We’re free, Cara!” I screamed into the wind. “We did it! We’re free!”
It wasn’t until we had left the men and their rowing boats far behind that I realised what my newfound freedom meant. I was alone on the inky black ocean. On a ship that I didn’t know how to sail and without Juan at my side to help me. And that was when I stopped rejoicing and slumped to my knees and cried.
Night Voyage
The sea was pitch black as I rounded the coastline. I’d tied a torch to the front of the inflatable, thinking it would work like car headlights, but it only lit up a few metres of water, not enough to navigate by.
I could just make out the silhouette of the shoreline and tried to keep close to the dark outline of the land as I came round the rocks at the end of Shipwreck Bay. If I got too far out I would lose my bearings completely. But staying close to the land had its own dangers. At Sandy Point I came right in close to the beach, cutting between two outcrops of reef, and that was when I felt the Zodiac lurch.
The jolt flung me up in the air and almost clear of the inflatable. I scrambled around, clinging to the wet rubber floor of the boat, trying not to capsize it. I knew that if I stood up, I would tip the whole thing over, so I crawled my way back in the dark until I could grasp the handle on the outboard motor and steady the Zodiac.
I sat up and got my bearings – I was still heading towards the beach. I tried to stay calm but my heart was pounding in my ears. Whatever had caused that bump must have ripped a small hole in the side of the inflatable because the Zodiac was starting to sit real low. By the time I had motored my way round the rocks to Saw Mill Sink the inflatable had taken on so much water that the waves were now coming in over the sides and I was finding it harder and harder to steer.
I made for the shore. The mudflats were just up ahead of me. I could skim the boat over the shallows and try to go inland. It was risky but it was better to crash on the sandbars than to be out at sea in an inflatable that was rapidly sinking.
I tried to steer into the deeper channels but pretty soon I had struck a sandbar and beached myself. I climbed out and dragged the Zodiac back into the water, but when I struck a second sandbar just a few moments later I couldn’t get the outboard to start again. I stood there, with the rain coming down hard and tried to kick-start the engine. After about eight tries, I gave up and began to wade.
I was still quite far out on the edge of the flats and I figured the best plan was to find a point on the horizon, like a big tree in the distance, and just head straight for it. If I tried to skirt around the tidal pools I could wind up walking in circles. With the wind steadily gathering at my back, I set out.
The thing is, in the dark, even with a torch, it was impossible to gauge how deep the tidal pools were. Sometimes they only came up to my knees, but other times I found myself in all the way up to my armpits, holding my backpack and torch above my head.
Every now and then, I would catch sight of something in the pools that I wished I hadn’t. Spidery crabs and thick, muscular eels, scuttling and slithering to get out of my way. There were silvery bonefish too, shimmering in the water, brushing up against my legs in the deepest trenches, and flatfish darting out from beneath my feet.
Finally the pools became shallower and the mud began to turn sandy. There was more marsh grass swishing about and pretty soon I was walking through creaking mangroves and pigeon berry.
The jungle at night was another world full of screeches and screams as the trees moaned in the wind. I pushed my way through in the dark, using the beam of the torch to light my footing. At one point I heard a hissing noise and when I raised my torch there were green eyes glowing back at me. Whatever it was, it gave another hiss and then scuttled up into the branches of the canopy above me.
When I stumbled on to the tyre tracks I almost wept with relief. It wasn’t far now.
The bottle tree was going crazy in the wind when I reached the cottage. “Annie?” I called out. “Annie! It’s me!”
I hammered on the door but no one answered. I checked around the side of the house. She had locked the chickens into their coop and the white cat was nowhere to be seen. And the horse pens were empty. I called out Annie’s name a few more times but heard nothing back.
The doors to the cottage were unlocked and I knew Annie wouldn’t mind if I went inside. I stood in the living room shivering. I could hear the wind rattling at the shutterboards of the old shack – the storm was close. Digging around in my backpack, I took out the two diaries. Mine and Felipa’s. I put them side by side on Annie’s kitchen table.
Before I left the Phaedra, I finished reading Felipa’s diary. So now I know the truth about Felipa, and about Cara and what happened that night when they left Hispaniola. And I know that the Duchess is special just like Annie said. That no matter what happens, I have to save her.
I have to go now. In the past few minutes the storm has got much worse. I don’t know where Annie is but I do know that the Duchess is still out there. I’ve borrowed some of Annie’s dry clothes. I found a raincoat too. It’s pretty smelly, but I figure it’ll keep the rain off me. I’m leaving Annie a note to say I’ve gone to the Bonefish Marshes, just in case she comes back before me. I’m leaving it on the kitchen table along with the diaries – until I return.
F.M.
7th December, 1493
If I am to find land then I must depend on myself. In the captain’s cabin there are maps and charts. I was never taught to navigate, but I do know how to read. I’ve looked through the captain’s log and found his notes on the voyage that we had made to Hispaniola and from these I’ve charted a course. I can’t go back the way we came – I’d never make it as far as Spain. Besides, I have only the few provisions onboard that Juan managed to prepare.
So I’ve set my course due north, away from Hispaniola, heading where the warm ocean currents flow, in the hope that there a
re undiscovered islands where I might make landfall.
At least the horses seem content. Most of the mares stand side by side and groom each other affectionately, nibbling softly with their teeth. Cara Blanca, however, stands alone, and stares out over the ocean. The last time we were at sea she spent all her time below deck, so the world of water is entirely new to her. I watch her as I steer the ship, admiring her profile as she takes in the scents of the salt air and the cries of the gulls above. She is my boatswain and I am the captain.
9th December, 1493
I have only enough water to last the horses perhaps one more day. As for myself, I am now eating Juan’s share of our rations.
I miss Juan terribly. Is he still alive? If he were caught taking horses that night then he might have been put to death for theft by those vicious sailors. I dearly hope that instead he escaped and is alive somewhere living in the jungle.
I know he is lost to me and yet each night when I go to sleep it is his face that I see when I close my eyes. This vision comforts me.
I have just checked the water barrel. It is completely empty.
F.M.
10th December, 1493
Rain!
This morning when I felt the first drops falling I was so delighted that I ran about the ship laughing and whooping and dancing with my arms open wide. Then, once I was soaking wet, I realised that I was wasting precious time and I hurriedly ran about putting out every bucket and bowl and vessel that might catch water for the horses to drink. I also lowered the mainsail and used that as a giant water-catcher. In a very short time I had enough water for all of the horses and to fill three barrels in reserve.
I almost cried with joy as I watched Cara drink her fill and then snort playfully, flicking her muzzle in the bucket. We are saved.
