During the first weeks she had worked so hard at the Arnaud home that she had no time at all to spare. She watered the vegetable patch, ran after the children, washed, starched, and ironed the shirts, shined the silver, helped in the kitchen by grinding corn and washing dishes. After the hurricane things changed. The children did not want to be looked after, there was no starch for the clothes, no patch to water, no silver to shine, and, with all the scarcities that strangled Clipperton, the only thing they had plenty of was time.
Altagracia equipped herself with sponges, brushes, and buckets of water, and step by step, she approached Schultz’s cabin. She saw him standing with the chain around his neck, lonely, broken, and filthy, like a big bear in captivity, and right away her fear melted away.
“Come, come,” she said while approaching him, as if she were calling a domestic animal.
Schultz growled a little but took the piece of bacon she offered him and allowed her to get closer. Cautiously, she sponged the encrusted dirt off his back. Each time he growled, she gave him a piece of bacon, until she managed to get him passably clean. Then she helped him put on a grungy pair of pants that she found on the floor, tossed in a corner, the first piece of clothing Schultz wore during his period of madness. Then she brought him fried fish and a cup of steaming hot coffee. He ate the fish but spilled the coffee on the floor. She swept around his bed, looked for his best shirts, and took them with her.
The next day she came back with his shirts mended, washed, and ironed, and since it was a chilly morning, she lit a fire to heat the buckets of water. Schultz reacted so well to the warm water that he allowed her to wash his matted hair. Altagracia did it very carefully, massaging the scalp with the tips of her fingers, as she did with the Arnaud children. He also let her cut his nails, which already looked like claws, but growled in protest when she tried to cut his toenails as well.
In a few weeks tremendous progress was made. He allowed her to comb his hair, spruce him up, and even perfume him as if she were playing with a doll. She learned not to take any black food to him because he rejected it, and, once in a while, to smuggle a shot of mezcal to him. She polished his boots, darned his socks, brushed his big yellow teeth with ashes. She took him out for a walk, and he accepted being pulled by the chain like a lap dog.
Day by day, the cleaning up and feeding sessions became lengthier and more elaborate. At the beginning she had stayed from six to six thirty in the morning, and it got to be from six in the morning to six in the evening. Altagracia came at daybreak and returned to the Arnauds at dusk. When she left, Schultz was still chained to his post, sitting on his bed, playing solitary chess, updating the Pacific Phosphate books, looking at the stars, and waiting for her return at dawn.
He called her Alta or Altita, and she called him Towhead, German, or gringo. He worked hard to teach her how to play chess, she wanted him to learn Spanish.
“Caballa,” he said, holding the horse chess piece.
“Caballa to you. It is called caballo.”
“Caballa to you, too. That’s not the way you move that piece.”
“And how is it that, before, no one could understand you, and now, suddenly, you talk like a person?”
“Because now I want to, and before I didn’t.”
That was true. For the first time in his long stay in America, Gustav Schultz felt the desire and the need to communicate with someone.
“And how come you were crazy before and now you’re not?”
“I was not crazy before and I’m not crazy now.”
His aggressive behavior had disappeared. However, he still had the chain on his neck, and when someone approached him other than Altagracia, he roared and smashed dishes on the floor.
“I’m going to ask for this animal chain to be taken off,” she said.
“Don’t ask for anything. If they take off the chain and declare me sane, they will never let you come back to me anymore.”
“I am going to tell everybody that you can speak Spanish.”
“No, don’t say a word. I don’t want to talk to them.”
Their passion started slowly, softly. They felt it coming once she took off the shawl that always covered her head, and her hair, liberated, dropped down to her ankles. It was a yard and a half of natural silk, a black-as-night cascade, a shining animal with a life of its own. Schultz could not believe what he saw. He finally dared to touch it, as if putting his hands into a treasure chest full of precious stones.
“This is pirate Clipperton’s treasure. Everybody tried so hard, but I am the one who found it.”
“It’s just black hair, like everybody else’s. Your hair is nicer, because it’s blond.”
“You don’t know what treasure you have on your head, my child.”
“I bet you don’t know how to braid it.”
“I bet I do.”
He helped her lose her virginity with tenderness and without any pressure. From then on, he devoted himself to teaching her how to make love with the same patience and wisdom with which he was teaching her to play chess.
Three months had elapsed since the hurricane, and the ship from the Mexican Navy was already two months late. Captain Jens Jensen, who had felt hopeful about the guarantees of government help Arnaud had offered him, came to the conclusion that it was absurd and suicidal to keep waiting. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became, and he knew that he should have realized this since the day following his forced arrival at Clipperton.
He asked Arnaud’s permission to repair a rowboat.
It was a ten-foot boat, big enough for four men. He supplied it with four oars and improvised a mast and a sail. When it was ready, he informed Arnaud of his decision to send part of his crew—his best four seamen—to the Mexican coast to ask for help.
“You are sending them to their deaths,” Arnaud told him.
“Perhaps not,” answered Jensen.
“They are going to be smashed against the reefs. They’ll get lost at sea. The dark nights will turn into nightmares. They’ll run out of food and water. And the sharks will attack them.”
“You are an army man, Captain Arnaud, and you mistrust the sea. I am a mariner and I can’t stay locked on land, doing nothing, abusing your hospitality, and risking the lives of your people and mine.”
“Better wait a little longer. The supply boat should come within two weeks, God willing.”
“You said it: God willing. With all respect for your beliefs, I prefer to place my trust in my own men.”
“Well, then, you have my blessings. May God protect your men.”
The following day, June 4, Second Lieutenant Hansen and three crewmen, Oliver, Henrikson, and Miller, sailed toward Mexico in the small sailboat, with some navigational instruments Arnaud had provided, and food and water for twelve days.
The entire Clipperton population—except Gustav Schultz and Altagracia Quiroz, who were in a world of their own—stood at the dock to watch them leave.
On the U.S.S. Cleveland, Heading for Acapulco, 1914
1. On 21 June, at about 1500, while the Cleveland was anchored at Acapulco, a small boat approached. It was commanded by L. Hansen, second lieutenant from the U.S. schooner Nokomis, with a crew of two. Having left Clipperton Island 17 days earlier, they arrived in very poor physical condition and reported having lost a man en route. The lieutenant also reported that the Nokomis had sailed from San Francisco under Captain Jens Jensen and was shipwrecked at Clipperton before dawn on 28 February 1914, with the following crew: Captain Jens Jensen, his wife, and two children; First Lieutenant C. Halvorsen, Second Lieutenant L. Hansen; and J. Oliver, H. Henrikson, J. Halvorsen, and W. Miller, seamen; H. Brown, shipboy; and H. Knowles, cook. Hansen stated that when he left the island, those who remained had supplies for only 17 days.
2. In view of this report, I considered they were in urgent need of help, so I left for Clipperton at 0930 the following morning. I had notified the British vice consul and the London agents of the Pacific Phos
phate Company Ltd., who were sending 200 bales of foodstuffs to their Clipperton representative and to the Mexican troops posted there, consisting of two officers, eleven men, and their families. The Cleveland arrived at the island on the 25th at 1100.
3. That afternoon the above-mentioned individuals came aboard, together with the Pacific Phosphate Company Ltd. representative, Mr. G. Schultz, his wife, and daughter. Mr. Schultz, a German citizen who had stayed on the island for several years representing that company, was in a personal situation. His relationship with the officer in charge of the post on the island had reached such antagonism that the commanding officer reported that Mr. Schultz, in his opinion, had lost his mind. From his side, Mr. Schultz reported on the Clipperton shipwreck of Captain Jens Jensen’s ship at dawn on 28 February 1914, and Schultz also said that his relationship with the Mexican officer in charge had soured. In consequence, I considered it prudent to take Mr. Schultz and his family to Acapulco.
4. At 1520 I greeted a Mexican boat commanded by the port captain, Ramón Arnaud Vignon, who signed the receipt for the 200 bales of foodstuffs. The port captain departed the Cleveland at 1555.
(Signed)
Captain W. Williams
U.S.S. Cleveland, Clipperton Island, 1914
ON JUNE 25 Ramón Arnaud was having some fish with his wife and children when he saw a ship looming on the horizon. His reaction was that of a person watching a loved one return, because he thought the ship belonged to the Mexican Navy. They had finally come to take care of him! Where was Captain Jensen? Ramón already knew what to tell him. He would say, “Don’t you see it was better to wait? I knew my superiors would not fail me.”
Alicia saw her husband instantly shift from joy to dejection: his face turned paper white as he realized his mistake. The approaching vessel was flying the American flag. It was the U.S.S. Cleveland coming to the rescue of the crew of the Nokomis.
In spite of the many requests to his superiors that Arnaud had sent through the four Dutchmen, the ship had not come for him but for Jensen’s people. Jensen had been right to mistrust his words and to act on his own, Ramón Arnaud thought bitterly.
His disappointment was such that while all the others rushed to the dock, he remained seated without moving a finger for the whole hour it took the ship to anchor on the other side of the reef. A boat landed with two emissaries, and finally a seaman handed him a note from the captain of the Cleveland, together with a letter from Mexico.
The note from the captain—named Williams—indicated that his intent was only to take the crew from the Nokomis with him, inquire about Gustav Schultz, deliver some provisions, and offer help. The letter was from his father-in-law, Don Félix Rovira, and it was addressed to Alicia. She read it out loud.
My dearest child:
Joy fills my heart. I do not need to tell you that I am leaving for the port right now, and I shall be waiting for you, even though I might have to wait there a whole week for you.
My dream of every single day, during all these years, will finally come true. I am going to see you again—you and Ramón and my grandchildren—and be with you without the threat of a new separation.
I looked for Colonel Avalos to inform him of your urgent needs but he is no longer in Acapulco. He has been transferred, and I was unable to find out his address. The new commander of the zone is Colonel Luis Griviera, who admitted to me that, due to the constant rebel attacks, he is in no position to be able to send ships to Clipperton. He suggested it is best that you return on the Cleveland, taking advantage of the captain’s kind offer to render this service. My impression of Colonel Griviera is that he is too busy with his own survival to attend to anyone else’s.
I have not been able to talk in person with the three Dutch sailors who brought news of you to this port, but I know they reported that there were provisions on the island for three or four more days. I pray to God they last until you get the boxes the British consul is sending.
I am writing this to you in haste, my dear, for I only learned of your situation barely two days ago. I left Salina Cruz immediately for Acapulco, and the efforts on your behalf have not given me a minute to spare. The American ship that takes this missive to you and has promised to bring you back here sails very shortly. For that reason I will not comment on the situation our homeland is going through. There will be time enough to discuss these things (though it seems there is not enough time for anyone to comprehend so many chaotic events).
I am sending you, yes, newspaper clippings about the United States invasion of Veracruz. It has caused an outrage all over the country and, I daresay, in the whole continent. I think that Ramón should be aware of this, since you will be sailing on an invader’s warship. As to the personal intentions of Captain Williams, I think they are honest and humanitarian. By all means, I believe it is of the utmost urgency that you return with him, since the possibilities for a Mexican ship to sail to Clipperton seem remote under the present circumstances. My heart will summon the strength that it no longer possesses in order to withstand this period of waiting until your return.
Your father
“Wait a minute,” Ramón said when she finished reading the letter. “Let’s take this one step at a time, because I don’t understand anything. I wrote to the authorities, and your father answers. I ask for a Mexican ship, and we get an American one. And what’s this invasion of Veracruz? Let me see the clippings.”
They quickly read every word in the clippings sent by Don Félix and concluded that General Huerta was officially in power but without popular support, which was on the side of the revolutionaries, and without the support of the United States, which had invaded the port of Veracruz. The events had come to a climax on April 7. In Tampico an officer and seven men from the American cruiser Dolphin had disembarked in order to buy fuel. Once on land they were arrested by Huerta’s officials. Two hours later, a Mexican general set them free, apologizing for the mistake. President Wilson demanded that the Mexicans raise the American flag and, in reparation, honor it with a twenty-one-gun salute. General Huerta answered that Mexico would comply with the twenty-one-gun salute provided that the Mexican flag was equally honored by the United States. Seizing upon this as an excuse, Wilson ordered the military intervention he had long prepared, and sent his fleet into Mexican waters. On April 21, the U.S. Marines occupied the Custom House in Veracruz. After the Mexican Naval Academy cadets had resisted the attack for twelve hours and suffered the loss of 126 patriots, on April 22 the post surrendered. Thousands of Mexicans all over the country volunteered to join Huerta’s army to fight the invaders. At the same time, the revolutionary forces commanded by Venustiano Carranza, who controlled more than half the territory, also opposed the foreign invasion.
“Why on earth does your father think that we are leaving on that ship?”
“He is taking for granted that Mexican ships are not coming anymore.”
“What do you mean, ‘not coming’? Nobody has ordered me to leave this post.”
“You don’t have orders to leave, but you don’t have orders to stay either. I think the truth is, Ramón, that nobody cares. With the country in such a chaotic situation, probably nobody even remembers we exist.”
“The United States invades, all of Mexico resists, and do you think I’m going to surrender Clipperton without a shot? Is that what you’re asking me?”
“I’m not asking you anything. I have never asked you for anything”—Alicia’s voice broke, and she began to cry. Softly at first, then emotionally, interrupting to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief and blowing her nose. But the tears rushed out in their own uncontrollable dynamic, making her breathing difficult.
“Have a good cry,” Arnaud said. “Let it all come out, all the complaints you have held back for six years.”
Finally she was able to speak again.
“I have never asked for us to leave, and I am not going to ask you now. But why don’t you realize that it makes me sad to think of my father standing there at the po
rt, waiting for us. How can you expect me not to be heartbroken seeing that those uneducated, underfed creatures running around are my own children? How could I not think that passing up this last chance to leave would force us to stay here forever, and perish. . . .”
Alicia could have kept talking for hours, protesting, complaining about her bad luck, telling her husband all that she had not said in six years about her marriage and her life on the isle. But at that moment Captain Jensen joined them. He was shaved and groomed, and Arnaud felt somewhat intimidated by the other’s regained position as a member of the civilized world.
“Better hush, dear, Jensen is coming,” he interrupted her. “Tell him that I am not in. I don’t want to see him before I know what I should do.”
“And if he asks me where you are?” Alicia was still sobbing, her eyes red and her nose stuffy.
“Tell him I am at a Gala Ball. Or at the horse races.”
“And what about me? Is it all right for him to see me crying?” she screamed at Ramón’s back as he started to leave. “Well, fine! Let Jensen see me, let everybody see me crying! I am sick of pretending to be happy!”
Arnaud escaped through the back door and walked along the beach, taking long strides over the moving carpet of red crabs. He stepped on several of them at every move, and the crackling sound of the crushed crab shells pierced his ears. This triggered the nervous twitch of his upper lip, and at regular intervals his face contracted in an involuntary grimace.
He was trying to think, he needed to understand, but, like a clock without a spring, his mind was not responding. It had stopped. Was the situation as drastic as his father-in-law had made it appear? Was it a black-and-white choice—either to leave now or to stay forever?—or were there intermediate shades that Don Félix as an anguished father could not perceive? Was Huerta’s downfall and the collapse of the federal army imminent? Don Félix had always favored the rebels and perhaps that made him overestimate their importance. Or was he right this time? Even so, the foreign invasion had changed everything; it had to, and internal differences would end at the threat from the outside. Wouldn’t they? That man Carranza would offer a truce to General Huerta while they fought the invader together. Or would he? If the enemy made the federal army, his army, surrender, what role would he have in Clipperton? Why must he stay if Avalos and all the others went their own ways? However, it is the rats that abandon a sinking ship. Arnaud had no information, and his head was spinning in search of inspiration. He needed to guess right. He read and reread the letter and the clippings, looking for a solution in every phrase, in every word.
Isle of Passion Page 16
