Wind of Destiny

by Christopher Nicole

  But she also knew, now, that her marriage was at an end. Or had she not known that almost from the moment she had laid eyes on Rafael again, after three years. There was a delusion. She had known it before she had ever got married in the first place, and yet had gone ahead, carelessly, content to let the future provide. And the future had provided … what?

  ‘I love you,’ Jack said. ‘I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.’

  ‘Oh, gee,’ she said. ‘I know I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.’

  He frowned at her. ‘Did you? But … ’

  ‘Oh, sure. I went ahead and married Rafael anyway. Heck, I was all but engaged to the guy, and both sets of parents were breathing down my neck, and … I thought you were keen on Christina.’

  ‘Christina,’ he said, and lay back with his hands beneath his head to look at the setting sun. They had now made love for three whole days and nights, and were approaching the fourth night. That this was Tuesday, 15 February, and therefore the night Rafael had chosen for his assault on the Maine, only made their passion the more compulsive. Certainly everyone in the camp knew of it. But that no longer mattered, for the moment. When Rafael returned … if he returned from his crazy venture … This was not the first time she had half hoped her husband would die. But now it was more than half a hope.

  ‘I think I had better tell you about Christina,’ Jack said, and did so.

  ‘Oh heck,’ she said, when he had finished; the concept of doing something like that, before marriage, was totally inexplicable to her carefully trained New England mind. ‘But then … ?’

  ‘Then? Now? It’s one hell of a world,’ he said.

  ‘You have to marry her now, Jack.’

  He turned his head to look at her.

  ‘I mean … she has nothing. Only you. And me, I guess. And Rafael.’

  ‘Like I said, it’s one hell of a world. I love you.’

  ‘And I love you. But I can’t marry you. Not while Rafael lives.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, thoughtfully.

  ‘Jack!’

  ‘Oh, sure. He’s the general. And he’s always been like a younger brother, to me. God knows, Christina has always been like a sister. I would give ten years of my life if I could take back that afternoon. But that’s the trouble with life. It’s not a game of chess. You can’t say, oh, I resign this one, let’s set the pieces up and have another go. With life the game begins when you’re born, and continues until you’re dead, and every move you make is there for evermore. It’s chess with the devil … or with God, maybe. But you know you’re bound to lose. You can only hope to keep the game going for as long as possible. So I’m stuck with what I’ve done in the past. I’ve found you and you’ve found me, but you tell me I must marry someone else. A wreck of a woman … ’

  ‘She’s not a wreck, Jack. I know she’s not. She’ll come fighting back. She has enormous courage.’

  ‘I know that. I also know that every time I touch her body she’ll think of Lumbrera.’ ‘And every time Rafael touches me, I’ll think of you. I already do.’

  He raised himself on his elbow. ‘Toni … suppose he does try to plant his torpedo, and doesn’t get back. What then?’

  ‘Oh, heck,’ she said again. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. I want to marry you, Jack. I’ve wanted to do that ever since I can remember. But to abandon Christina … ’

  ‘Has it occurred to you that Christina might no longer want to marry me? Or anyone?’ ‘If … if she really felt like that, then … but you’d have to ask her first.’

  ‘Yeah. And what do you want to happen when Rafael comes back, supposing he does? He’s going to know what’s been happening. If he doesn’t guess, Incarna will tell him.’

  ‘Will he fight you?’

  ‘No, I don’t think he will. Because while he may be the general, rank doesn’t count in a personal quarrel, and he knows I’d kill him.’

  ‘Oh, Holy Mother,’ she said. ‘What will he do, then?’

  ‘Take it out on you, I would guess. In which case I’ll kill him anyway.’

  ‘Oh, God, what a mess. Hold me, Jack. Hold me.’

  He took her in his arms, and held her close, and together they gazed at the sunset. Then they lay down together and made love, before going back to the camp for the evening meal. There was little comradeship now. The other guerrillas, and the women, ate apart from the two gringoes. They were not taking sides, as yet, and Jack was in command during Rafael’s absence. But they did not want to identify themselves in any way with what he was doing, until they saw what was likely to happen.

  Jack and Toni finished their meal, and sat gazing across the valley at the hills behind Havana. The sun had disappeared with tropical suddenness, and the lights of the city were starting to glow, even as the mosquitoes rose out of the bushes to buzz around them and make them slap and scratch.

  ‘It is to be tonight,’ Toni said. ‘Do you think he’s abandoned it?’

  ‘He won’t be able to do anything until quite late,’ Jack said. ‘But maybe he’s had second thoughts. Maybe … ’ the entire sky lit up in front of them, as if some titan had struck a giant-sized match. The glow flared across the horizon, and delineated the mountain tops like a sunrise, and then died. But before they could gather their wits, the rumbling roar reached them, across even twenty miles, almost knocking them over with its intensity, bringing the guerrillas and the women hurrying down the slope.

  ‘It is the end of the world,’ Incarna shrieked. ‘The end of the world.’

  ‘It is the end of the Maine,’ Jack muttered. ‘Holy Jesus Christ. He did plant it under the magazine.’

  *

  Joe found himself on the cabin sole, his head aching where he had banged it against the bulkhead, and bleeding too, he discovered when he put up his hand, while his left shoulder was also painful. For a moment he was not even sure where he was, having lost all sense of his whereabouts; the lights had gone out and the darkness was utter, while he could hear nothing above the ringing in his ears.

  Then sound invaded his distraught world, the hissing of fractured pipes, the screams of men, the rushing of water — and he became aware that he was sliding across the cabin as the ship heeled.

  He reached for the door, dragged himself out into the corridor. None of the other officers had retired as yet, and the wardroom was a noisy shambles, as men shouted and yelled, and bodies cannoned into him. When he tried to shout himself to restore some order, they ignored him.

  While the ship was definitely sinking, and very fast. The list was increasing every moment, and now books were tumbling from their shelves, and furniture was starting to break loose and come crashing across the deck. He reached a ladder leading upwards, found it blocked by several men, all struggling to get a hand hold. ‘Order, there, order,’ he bellowed, and when one man turned to strike at him, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him to one side. His size, which made him identifiable even in the darkness, and his willingness to use violence, restored some discipline. ‘One at a time,’ he told them. ‘One at a time. You’ll all get out.’

  He hoped he was right, but now they obeyed him, and started moving upwards one behind the other. The first men tumbled out of the hatch and shouted something back at him, but he could not make out what they were saying. He remained guarding the bottom of the ladder until everyone had got up who was going to, he reckoned. By then the list was so acute he was virtually hanging on to the full extent of his arms, and now the swishing of water coming out of the darkness was very close. He climbed the ladder himself, gained the quarterdeck, and looked forward to witness a sight he had never imagined he would ever see, and could only hope he would never see again. The Maine had been blown in half, and the midships section, including the bridge, had just about disappeared. The bow was already sunk, but had hit bottom, and was protruding upwards, pointing its ram at the night sky, as it slowly settled. The stem was sinking rapidly, carried down by the weight of the guns. Water
was already flooding over the deck, swirling around his ankles as he stumbled for the rail.

  There he paused for a moment, staring at the shore, where there was still a good deal of light, although not quite the blaze of half an hour before, but where the fiesta had been arrested, as if all the merrymakers had been turned to stone. Life was just returning over there, with an enormous twittering sound like every bird in the world waking up, as those people still on their feet staggered to the waterfront to stare at the catastrophe in the harbour. Then he was in the water, and the battleship was sinking away from him.

  He was surrounded by bodies. A powerful swimmer himself, he avoided the vortex of the sinking ship without difficulty, and began calling men to him, directing their dazed brains and muscles towards the shore, which was only a few hundred yards distant. He hung around to help those who were poor swimmers, assisting them to the various pieces of flotsam which had drifted away from the destroyed vessel. By now boats were putting out from the shore, as the horrified Cubans and Spaniards regained their wits and came to the rescue. Tm okay,’ he told the first one to reach him. Take these fellows.’

  The sodden, gasping sailors were dragged over the gunwales. Some were weeping with a mixture of shock and sheer disbelief, that anything so powerful, so beautiful, so perfect in every way could have been destroyed in the twinkling of an eye.

  Joe made sure there was no one alive left in his vicinity, then struck out through the surprisingly chill water for the Arsenal Dock. This was packed with spectators, who had pushed their way past the armed guards to reach the closest possible vantage point to the wreck. The dock was a shambles of broken glass, indicative of what the rest of the city had suffered. There were injured people lying around all over the place, almost as if there had been a battle, and now the muted chorus of terror and surprise had been lost in a swelling crescendo of noise, screams and moans, exclamations and shouts, barked commands and impassioned pleas for assistance. There were even a few shots as policeman fired their revolvers in an effort to restore order.

  Joe dragged himself up the steps, helped by willing hands, realising for the first time that he was wearing only his pants, and listened to the town hall clock, which had survived the blast, striking ten; it was just twenty-five minutes since he looked at his watch, in the warm comfort of his bunk.

  ‘Joe. Joe McGann!’

  He turned his head, stared at Charles Sigsbee. The captain was fully dressed save for his hat, although his uniform was as wet as all the rest of the survivors. ‘Jesus Christ!’ Sigsbee said. ‘Joe? Thank God you made it. But so many fellows … ’

  ‘Well, thank God you made it too,’ Joe said.

  ‘Christ, I was blown clear out of my cabin,’ Sigsbee said, ‘and straight over the side. Hell … ’ he stared at the pall of steam which was all that was left of his ship. His eyes too were wet. ‘What the hell could have happened? That fire in the bunker?’

  ‘I can’t believe that,’ Joe said. ‘Chief was taking every precaution. I … ’ but what else could there have been? A battleship doesn’t just blow up in the middle of the night for no reason.

  Then he remembered that debris, so oddly floating against the tide. Was that possible? But who would have risked such a thing?

  ‘We have to round up all the survivors,’ Sigsbee said. ‘Hold a roll call. Find out how many got ashore. There could be others trapped in the hull. We have to get the harbour authorities. We have to … Joe … ’

  ‘Leave it with me, sir,’ Joe said. ‘I’ll get something organised.’

  A policeman was trying to drape a cape round his naked shoulders, and another was telling him something in very rapid Spanish. Joe faced him to try to get the gist of what he was saying, looked past his shoulder, and found himself staring at Rafael Diaz de Obrigar. Rafael was in the crowd, some thirty feet away, also gazing at him. But he gave no sign of recognition, and when he discovered his brother-in-law looking in his direction, he stepped back and immediately disappeared into the throng.

  *

  Even in the middle of the night, Jack immediately despatched one of the guerrillas down the hill to discover what happened, and if there was any news of Rafael. None of those who remained slept, save for a few uneasy moments just before dawn. Toni’s mind was too shocked to accept that it could be real. If the explosion had been the Maine … it was impossible to see how anyone could have survived. But even Joe’s fate was for the moment submerged beneath the enormity of the crime that Rafael had committed. It was unbelievable, that a single man’s demoniac determination to lead his people to his concept of freedom could have caused such a catastrophe. And she had married him! That was hardly more believable than anything else.

  Hardly anyone spoke the next day. They went about their work without looking at one another, each locked in his or her private thoughts. Even Jack seemed overwhelmed by what had happened. And that evening the spy returned. He had no news of Rafael, but what he had to say was shattering. The Maine had been blown into several pieces, and disappeared. Some of her superstructure had been hurled two hundred feet into the air. The Havana waterfront was wrecked, and it was a miracle no one had been killed by the flying glass; there had been many injuries. As for the American sailors, hundreds had been drowned or killed by the blast; some had even died of shock. The entire harbour had been covered in their floating bodies.

  Toni couldn’t speak. She felt as if a bomb had gone off inside her, ripping away heart and stomach, all of her strength, all her ability to feel; if she had known what must have happened, the confirmation of all her worst nightmares was unbearable.

  Jack sat beside her. ‘We don’t know your brother was amongst the dead,’ he said.

  ‘We don’t know he wasn’t,’ she replied.

  He was silent for a few minutes. Then he asked, ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘Well … if Rafael doesn’t come back, it’ll be because he went up with the ship. That means I’ll be in command again. I’m inclined to return to the south. We aren’t doing much good here, and let’s face it, after the Maine, I imagine the government is going to make one hell of a concerted effort to stamp us out. I should think the Americans are going to help them.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I hope he went up with the ship.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘God, I am serious,’ she said.

  He considered that as well. Then he said, ‘It should be possible to contact one of the fishing boats that have been smuggling for us, and secure you a passage, to Haiti at least, if not Jamaica, from where you could find a ship bound for the States.’

  ‘You mean, run away?’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be too much alternative. And you still have a price on your head. Being hanged is really a very unpleasant business, from what I’ve seen of it.’

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘I can’t abandon these men.’

  ‘Well, neither can I. And neither of us can abandon Christina. But I agree with you that we should go back to the south.’

  He nodded. ‘We’ll give Rafael another twenty-four hours, then we’ll pull out.’ When they awoke the next morning, Rafael was standing above them.

  *

  He looked even more ragged and desperate than usual, but he was fully armed — as usual. Toni gave a gasp and pulled the blanket to her chin, terrified despite how much she had grown to loathe the thought of him over the past few days — or because of it; she could only think, but we haven’t been making love! They had not, in fact, made love since the moment of the explosion; she had wanted only to feel Jack’s arms about her.

  Jack had reached for one of the revolvers which were never far from his side. While Rafael never moved, for several seconds, just stared at them. Behind him, the rest of the camp was also awake, and watching, as were the men who had come back from Havana with him.

  ‘You thought I was dead,’ Rafael said at last. ‘It seemed to be probable,’ Jack agreed. The re
volver rested on his lap, half covered by his hand.

  ‘And were not prepared to mourn,’ Rafael remarked.

  ‘No,’ Toni said, regaining her courage. ‘You have murdered my brother.’

  ‘Joe is alive,’ he told her.

  ‘Joe!’ she screamed, throwing back the blanket and getting up, forgetting that she wore only her drawers. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I saw him, on the dock, after the explosion.’

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ she said, and fell to her knees. ‘Thank God for that.’

  ‘You see that your hysterics were unnecessary,’ Rafael pointed out. ‘And indecent.’ He stooped, and tossed her blouse to her.

  ‘There must have been somebody killed,’ Jack commented. ‘With an explosion that big. We were told there were a great number of casualties.’

  ‘Oh, a great number,’ Rafael said.

  ‘So you have still murdered upwards of half the complement of an American ship.’

  ‘I did not expect it to happen like that,’ Rafael said. ‘I was more surprised than anyone. I will tell you the truth. I was afraid. I, Rafael Diaz Vasquez de Obrigar was afraid. I think maybe it had to do with the shallowness of the water. Eight of us took the raft out, swimming beneath it, so that we would not be seen. When we got close to the ship, they even shone a searchlight on us, but they could find nothing suspicious; we sank below the water and held our breaths. So we just appeared to drift against the hull, and there I dropped the grapple. It was a fifteen minute fuse. We swam under water for as far as we could, then we surfaced and went for the shore. We had only just reached the beach when the ship went up. It was incredible. I was thrown twelve feet by the blast. So were the others. Our clothes were torn, and look at my face and hands.’

  These were certainly scratched and bruised. Jack frowned. ‘You dropped a grapple … you mean you don’t even know for sure your torpedo was touching the hull?’