Infinite Devotion (Infinite Series, Book 2)

by L. E. Waters

  Andres pulls off the boots that are so tight, a sweaty suction sound can be heard when they’re coming off.

  He wriggles his toes in his woolen stockings. “Now fetch the powder and rub my feet.”

  Andres sneers at the command, begrudgingly reaches for the powder, and begins peeling of the sweat-dampened stocking. By the way he pushes himself back and scrunches up his nose, I know it must be fragrant.

  He turns to me and points. “My back.”

  Happy to have the top end, I put down Bella, who goes to the captain’s side and reaches up for a biscuit he’s offering her. He starts talking to her in strange high-pitched sounds. “Oh, nice, oh, good girl, so nice.” A very different captain than what I’d just seen on the deck. After we’re rubbing for more than thirty minutes and our hands are beginning to ache, he says, “Now help me get ready to retire.”

  I panic at the thought he wants assistance getting undressed, but he points for Andres to turn down his bed and gives me his clothes to hang up. As he takes his linen undershirt off, I noticed the scar running down from his wrist down to his elbow. Thankfully, he leaves his hose on but removes the codpiece and gets in bed, motioning us to turn the candle off.

  As I pick Bella up, he says, “No, leave the dog. There’s a rat problem on the ship.”

  We walk out on the deck and see Pepe still cleaning, with Alvaro watching over him.

  Alvaro says to us, “I think your boyfriend’s about done. Dump your bucket overboard and go find a hole to sleep in.”

  He walks away, and Andres and I exchange glances, wondering where that would be.

  Pepe returns, and Andres says, “Good one, Pepe, now we’re stuck on this ship, and they just expect us to take care of ourselves.”

  “I didn’t tell you guys you had to come. They probably would’ve treated me better if I came alone.”

  Andres and I look at each other, disgusted with Pepe turning this on us. I start to try to find a way belowdecks as Andres follows behind me. There’s a hatch open, and we venture down. We’re met with a rancid, musty smell of bad food and sweat. The hold is filled with men lying in hammocks or sitting on the floor on filthy blankets in a circle playing a game of some sort. Some stare at us, and we look away, trying to find a spot we can disappear into. I see there’s a spot right under the stairs that has some old rope coiled up, and I quickly go to it. When I turn around, Andres is there like my shadow. I curl myself up in one coil of rope, and Andres finds the other. When I wake up in the night from the chill I felt from not having a blanket, I see Pepe’s in the coil next to us. He’s sleeping soundly, and I smile, thinking he must’ve searched all over the ship for us. I try to pull some of the coils up around me for warmth and fall back asleep.

  Something hits me in the forehead, and I open my eyes to see Alvaro throwing trash at our heads.

  “Wake up, little kittens! Captain wants everyone on deck.” He gets up and sticks his head through the ladder steps. “Follow me, and don’t get in my way.”

  As I get up I feel the assault sleeping on ropes did to my body and rub the sore spots. Andres and Pepe start climbing up on deck.

  The captain bellows, “Take all the salt pork, cheese, and fish and throw them overboard!”

  Sailors walk past me down into the hold and come back, arms full, and the same terrible smell down below wafts past me.

  “That was the food?” Andres puts his hand over his nose.

  Alvaro says to the captain, busy swinging back and forth something hanging from a red silk ribbon with his nose pinched, “The wood’s too green. Old wood’s the only kind you can use. The new wood has too much moisture, rots all the food.”

  The captain nods. “Well, the king thinks we’ll be scavenging in England in a few days’ time, so he feels ninety days of biscuits is more than enough.” The captain seemed weary, though, as he looks at the grey sky and churning sea. “Let’s hope he’s right.”

  He hands me the thing on the silk ribbon, and a strong smell of spices comes from it, sweetening the air.

  BOOM-BOOM!

  Andres, Pepe, and I all jump and duck at a cannon firing from one of the ships nearby.

  The captain grins. “You heard them, my boys of the San Pedro! Weigh anchor!”

  The deck’s a fury of men running to different positions all over the ship. I stare out to a line of ships gathering to leave the bay. A good wind’s blowing, and it looks like we’re leaving the only home I’d ever known. Men call to each other, sails flap and catch the wind, as Andres’ and Pepe’s excited voices fall silent as the rocky peninsula drifts away. The church and the graveyard I know so well disappear—and I know somehow I will never see this bay again.

  Chapter 6

  “Ship boys!” Alvaro calls out. We turn to attention after watching the waves under us for about an hour. “Captain wants you to tend to the horses below.”

  “Horses?” Pepe asks. “On a ship?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of seahorses?” He starts laughing and gestures for us to follow him.

  “The horseman’s fallen ill, so this hold’s horses need tending.” We walk to a part of the ship we hadn’t ventured to yet, and as soon as he lifts the hatch, I smell them. Corunna had a lot of farms, and on warm days, you would get wafts of foul air.

  “The shovels and buckets are all down there. It’s a good idea to have one shovel, the other pass up the buckets, and the last one dump it overboard. Give each horse half a bale, fresh water, and a cup of oats.” Alvaro asks, “Who’s the lucky one doing the shoveling?”

  Both Andres and Pepe point at me.

  “Well, that was easy. Down you go. Let the little one stay up here and do the dumping.”

  I take a fresh breath of air and start down. An earthy waft of manure and pungent horse urine saturate the air. There are twelve stalls, each with a horse hung in its comfort sling, sticking its head out and snorting for oats and fresh hay. Most are grey, with a few bays. Strange to imagine there are three other holds like this on the ship. Pepe comes down next to me.

  “Have you ever done this before?”

  He shakes his head. “No, never even touched a horse.”

  “Do you think I get in there with them?”

  “No, I think you just lift them up and clean under them.” He laughs.

  “No, I was thinking maybe I’m supposed to move them somewhere first.”

  We look around and see two ropes hanging from either side of two stalls.

  “See, that’s what I was thinking.”

  I take down the netting across one of the horse stalls and try to walk slowly toward the large animal as it steps back, clearly sensing how I’ve never done this before. She’s a beauty—a marbled grey mare with a mane of white hair all the way down to her knees. I remove one side of the sling and let it drop on the floor. She snorts and turns in her stall. I see her tail is equally as thick and long. She flips it in the air as she comes around again. She’s solid muscle, with a thick curving neck, and as she moves, her muscles tense and ripple as if she’s transparent. I grab hold of her halter and pretend I feel comfortable as I pull her into the cross ties and latch each rope to either ring on the sides of the halter.

  She falls under my command with ease, and it makes me feel that much more confident. Pepe flees to the ladder when the animal is brought out, and now, when it is safe, he gets brave again. “I would’ve figured it out if you gave me a moment.”

  “Right.” I take up the shovel, begin to scoop up the soiled hay, and put it in the buckets.

  Pepe makes a disgusted face as he picks each one up and lifts it up the hatch, and Andres yells down, “Do you mind not getting it all over the edge! I don’t have anywhere to put my hands!”

  Pepe laughs so hard he almost drops his bucket. It took us hours to move each horse, clean, feed them, and put each one back. We’re tired, and when we get back up on deck, we’re anxious to show Alvaro the great job we did. When he sees us looking for him, he comes over and glances down the hatch
. He closes the hatch, turns, and walks away.

  “That was it?” Andres raises his hands, open palms to the air.

  A few minutes later, Alvaro emerges again with the steward, who brings three rations of biscuits, salted meat, and dried peas in three wooden bowls and a wine-filled goatskin bag with a wooden mouthpiece and stopper.

  Our mouths drool at the sight.

  “Those Andalusians are yours now,” he says, and he walks away to work.

  We eat our supper up near the bow as Alvaro takes over the helm and studies a wooden box in front of him. Andres grabs his share and skips over to Alvaro, who doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. Curious, Pepe and I both carry our vittles and walk over too.

  “What are you looking at in that box?” Andres asks.

  “The compass,” Alvaro answers. “Now, step out of my light.”

  Andres moves.

  “That’s how you know where we’re going?” Pepe ventures.

  “No, I have a little pigeon I send out to chat with Queen Elizabeth, and he comes back and whispers directions in my ear.”

  Pepe looks out to see if he can see a bird in the sky, and I shake my head, embarrassed for him.

  Alvaro laughs, noticing it. “Don’t you boys realize where we’re going?” he scoffs. “We’re going to war and you three act like you’ve joined up here for a parade.”

  He stands there, shaking his head, watching the horizon.

  “What are the horses for?” I ask, trying to keep him from scaring us.

  “Well, the plan is to sink England’s navy immediately, then land and wage a land war on horseback.” He sighs. “We have twenty more horses on the other side of the ship.”

  We look back across the huge expanse of the ship and take in the magnitude of the situation we jumped in. To the front, sides, and back, the horizon’s scattered with ships. We seem to be centered in the middle of the convoy.

  “Why don’t you three find yourselves a spot out of everyone’s way? Don’t go poking around the ship, the galley’s full of convicts, and keep out of the soldiers’ way. Oh, and make sure to relieve yourself over the side of the ship, and if you can’t reach”—he eyes Andres—“then you go in a bucket and spill it overboard. No relieving yourself in the bilge!”

  Pepe pulls me and Andres back, and we decide to take his advice and find a quiet place by the center hatch where we watch the sailors’ synchronicity. That night, we go back to our ropes under the stairs, and we’re surprised to see wool blankets spread out for us. We check around to see who’d left them for us, but no one’s looking our way. We fall asleep quickly, and I awake in a tangled mass of the arms and legs of Pepe and Andres. Bella also found us in the middle of the night, and I smile, wondering how she escaped the captain.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Three days of wonderful sailing weather pass, and as I’m handing the last manure bucket up to Pepe, the captain comes by and approaches Alvaro within earshot.

  “I think we’re approaching the English coast. Get your lead out and report your findings to me in my cabin.”

  “Captain, if you don’t mind me asking, why are we sailing in sight of England? Why not sail the other side of the Channel so we can surprise them?”

  “The king has instructed us to stay away from the French and the Flemish coast because of the shoals and banks.”

  “But they’ll see us coming.”

  “I think that is his other intention.”

  The captain walks away.

  Alvaro takes out a long, slender coil of rope and what looks to be a scoop at the end. He reaches into a pouch at his hip as he walks to the prow, places something in the hollow of the scoop, and casts the line into the depths as the ship’s moving. He lets his line out slowly until he quickly pulls it back up. He reaches down, cradles the scoop, and walks back over to the helm, pulling out an old tattered book.

  He speaks to the sailor next to him. “We still haven’t hit the shelf yet, but we’re nearing. Put up the short sails and send the lookouts up on alert.”

  He sends the sailor to the captain’s cabin. News travels fast, and soon most of the men are assembled on deck, solemnly watching for the coast in enemy waters through a hazy horizon.

  “Why don’t you three climb up into the crow’s nest to see the shape the ships are in?” Alvaro says with a proud smile.

  “Shape?” Andres asks, one eye squinting trying to see up to the great height of the mast.

  “It’s something no one’s ever seen before. You should take a look.”

  Pepe starts up first, and Andres only makes it halfway up.

  “Climb up here with us, Andres!” Pepe shouts down.

  “No, I can see fine from here,” he says, high-pitched, red-and-white fingers clutched around the ropes.

  Pepe and I both reach the top at the same time, even though he started first, and he whistles as he takes in the view. It seems as though we’re riding on the back of a large flying bird. The ships in front of us make up the head, the merchant and galas on our sides stretch out like powerful wings, and the ships behind us spread out like tail feathers.

  “Hey, you guys, come down!” Andres calls from the deck now, and Pepe and I are hesitant to leave. It’s a view we would never see again in our lives. One of those instances you know you’ve witnessed something extraordinary. Pepe smiles at me and starts down.

  We inch for hours at a leisurely sail, watching as Alvaro takes a reading with his line every hour or so.

  “Where are all the ships?” one sailor next to us asks.

  “Yeah, not one fishing boat within sight.” Alvaro squints with one side of his mouth drawn.

  Suddenly, a lookout shouts, “Land on the port bow!”

  The captain’s amongst us at once, and the other ships around us come to life, all hoisting their crucifix and the Virgin flags.

  Three guns shoot, and the captain calls out, “Thanks be to God and the king, who have allowed us to get this far, and Lord have mercy on England.”

  As we approach closer to shore, the darkness sets in as every beacon upon every hilltop along the coast ignites, announcing our arrival—lighting our way up the channel—ironically, welcoming.

  That night, it’s hard to fall asleep, and after lying still and quiet for many minutes out of the silence, Andres says, “I’m glad I came with you, Luis.”

  “Hey, what about me? I’m the reason we’re here.”

  We both throw wood shavings that littered the floor at Pepe.

  “Yeah, great idea,” I say.

  “I meant I’m glad we’re all together.” Andres’s eyes fill with water.

  “Me too,” I say, hoping not to cry too.

  “Me too,” Pepe quietly states.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The next day, at dawn, we awake to shouting which found its way down under the ladder where we slept. We go up right away.

  “They beat us to windward!” yells the captain, grinding his teeth and hitting his fancy blue velvet on the railing of the ship.

  Standing up on deck, I can barely see through the squall of rain. Squinting, I faintly see the sails lined up upwind of us. The English navy has made it out of their harbors.

  “How did they do it in this wind? I thought we had them trapped.” He kicks a bucket over. “Now they’ve gotten upwind!”

  Alvaro turns to us. “Go water and feed the horses. Skip the mucking and make sure they’re tied in the stalls. After, go below. There’s going to be fighting soon.”

  He pushes Andres in the direction of the horses, and we obey. As we’re filling up the water buckets, gunfire rings out, and we quickly throw hay and scamper down under the ladder. Every time the cannons shoot, Bella runs out under the ladder and barks fiercely. Our own ship doesn’t fire any cannons off, but we hear ships around us, battling. After a few hours without damage, we sneak on deck. The sailors are hastily running back and forth on deck, untying and tying the rigging to change course and m
aneuver as the soldiers on our ship come out with their swords, muskets, and arquebuses. The smaller English ships are navigating more quickly, darting out of range, but with their cannon fire falling short also. A few ships have some rigging damage, but the majority of the ships seem without a scratch. By afternoon, the fighting ends, and the waves lap against the boat as our captain’s called to the duke’s ship for war council. We stand next to Alvaro as he blows a happy melody on a small whistle he carried in his pocket.

  When the captain returns, Alvaro asks, “What are our orders from the duke?”

  “We’re waiting for Parma to join the tea party as they promised… Cowards.” He spits off the deck. “But if bad weather comes, we’ll have no harbor big enough for us all.”

  He stares off to grey clouds in the distance.

  “So we have to keep to the helm and sails to keep this formation until Parma decides to join us?” Alvaro asks.

  “If we break this formation, even one ship, we’re back to Philip with an English boot up our britches.” He starts off to his cabin again. “Oh, that and the proclamation has gone out that the king will hang any captain of the ship that breaks formation. And I’ll be taking my leadsman and commander with me.” He laughs all the way back.

  Two terrible things happen that night. The flagship, the Don Pedro, collides with two other ships in the night due to the close proximity of the ships. The Don Pedro’s bowsprit and forestay were carried away, causing great distress on our own ship of impending collision. A few hours later, just when we drift back to sleep, our eyes open at the sound of a great explosion. All hands run to deck, and Andres is almost trampled in the chaos. About five ships away, the San Salvador, a vice-flagship, is up in flames. All night, a rescue attempt is underway to put out the ship and rescue survivors, but in the chaos, the crippled Don Pedro drifts away, out of range of the fleet.

  Orders are given to gradually move in formation up the channel. We move so slowly that we can see the thatched roofs and church steeples of the quaint English villages on our way across Lyme Bay. We spend a calm night drifting in formation in the bay, but by morning, the wind and the sea begin churning.