That same day they walked all the way to the coast to see the stone ship. Maria Guavaira was wearing her brightest clothes, she had not even bothered to iron them, the wind and light would smooth out the creases after their years in darkest limbo. Pedro Orce, their experienced guide, led the way, although he trusts the dog's instinct and scent more than his own eyes, to which everything in the light of day looks like a different route. While we cannot expect any guidance from Maria Guavaira, her route is another one, everything with her is an excuse to hold hands with Joaquim Sassa and draw near to him until their bodies touch long enough to steal a kiss, a variable time span as we know, which explains why they do not so much accompany the expedition as trail behind it. José Anaiço and Joana Carda are more discreet, they have been together for a week now, have sated their initial hunger, slaked their initial thirst, desire comes to them when they summon it, and if truth be told, they do so frequently. Even last night, when Pedro Orce saw that splendor in the distance, it was not just Joaquim Sassa and Maria Guavaira who were making love, there could have been ten couples sleeping in that house and all making love at the same time.
The clouds come from the sea and speed away in haste, they form and disintegrate rapidly as if each moment lasted no more than a second or a fraction of a second, and all the gestures of these men and women are, or appear to be, at the very same instant, both slow and swift, one would think the world had gone crazy, if one could ever fully grasp the meaning of such an impoverished but popular expression. They reach the top of the hill and the sea is tempestuous. Pedro Orce scarcely recognizes these places, the enormous rounded boulders that are piled up, the almost invisible ox cart descending in stages, how could he have taken this route by night, even with the dog's guidance, this is a feat he simply cannot explain. He tries to make out the stone ship but it is nowhere to be seen, now it is Maria Guavaira who leads the group, and none too soon, because she knows these paths better than anyone. They arrive at the spot, and Pedro Orce is about to open his mouth to say, It's not here, but he has stopped himself in time, he has before his eyes the stone of the helm with its broken tiller, the great mast looks even thicker in daylight, and as for the ship, this is where he finds the greatest change, as if the erosion of which he had been speaking that morning had accomplished in one night the work of thousands of years, where is it, I cannot see it, the tall pointed prow, the concave belly, the stone certainly has the broad outline of a ship, but not even the most glorious of saints could work the miracle of keeping such a precarious vessel afloat without bulwarks, there is no doubt that it is made of stone, but somehow it seems to have lost the form of a ship, after all, a bird only flies because it looks like a bird, Pedro Orce thinks to himself, but now Maria Guavaira is saying, This is the ship in which a saint came from the east, here you can still see the marks of his feet when he disembarked and started walking inland, the marks were some cavities in the rock, now tiny puddles that the ebb and flow of the waves at high tide would constantly renew, clearly any doubts are legitimate, but things depend on what one accepts or refutes, if a saint came from afar sailing on a slab of stone, then why should it not be possible for his fiery feet to have marked the rock up to the present day. Pedro Orce has no choice but to accept and confirm, but keeps to himself the memory of another ship that he alone saw on a night almost without stars yet inhabited by sublime visions.
The sea splashes over the rocks as if struggling against the advance of this irresistible tide of stones and earth. They no longer look at the phantom ship, they look at the thrashing waves, and José Anaiço says, We're on the road, we know it but we don't feel it. And Joana Carda asked him, The road to where. Then Joaquim Sassa said, There are five of us and a dog, we won't fit into Deux Chevaux, this is a problem we must solve, one solution would be for us two, for José and me, to go and search for a bigger car among the vehicles abandoned all over the place, the difficulty will be finding one in good condition, the ones we've seen always had some part missing, We can decide what we're going to do once we get home, José Anaiço said, there's no hurry, But what about the house, the land, Maria Guavaira muttered, We have no choice, either we get away from here or we all die, these words were spoken by Pedro Orce and they were final.
After lunch Joaquim Sassa and José Anaiço set off in Deux Chevaux in search of a bigger car, preferably a jeep, an army jeep would be fine, or, better still, one of those transport trucks, a moving van that might be transformed into a house on wheels with sleeping accommodations, but just as Joaquim Sassa had surmised, they found nothing suitable, besides this region where we are is not particularly well provided with parking lots. They returned in the late afternoon along the roads that little by little became congested with vehicles traveling from west to east, it was the beginning of the exodus of the coastal population, there were cars, carts, once more the traditional donkeys, and bicycles, although not many of them on the bumpy roads, and motorcycles, and long-distance buses seating fifty or more that were transporting entire villages, it was the greatest migration ever in the history of Galicia. Some people stared in amazement at these travelers going in the opposite direction, they even tried to stop them, didn't they know what had happened, Yes we know, many thanks, we're only going to look for some people, meanwhile there's no real danger, and then José Anaiço said, If it's like this here, what must it be like in Portugal, and suddenly the perfect way out occurred to them, How stupid we are, the solution is very simple, let's make the journey twice, or three times, as many times as it takes, we can choose some place in the interior to move into, a house, it shouldn't be difficult, people are leaving everything behind. This was the good news they brought, and it was deservedly given a warm welcome, next day they would start to sort out and put aside what they thought they should take, and to speed up the task they held a lengthy discussion after dinner, made an inventory of their needs, drew up lists, chopping and changing as they went along, Deux Chevaux had a long journey ahead and a heavy load to transport.
The following morning, the farmhands didn't appear and Deux Chevaux's engine wouldn't start. Putting it like this, we might give the impression that there is some connection between the two facts, perhaps that the absentee farmhands have stolen some essential part from the car, whether out of desperate need or with sudden malice. Not so. Both the older and the younger man had been swept away in the exodus that was depopulating the entire coastal region for more than fifty kilometers inland, but three days from now, when the inhabitants of the house have already departed, the younger man will return to this spot, the one who coveted Maria Guavaira and her land, in this order or the other way around, and we will never know if he is returning to attain his dream of becoming a landowner, even if only for a few days before he is killed in a geological disaster that will carry off both the land and his dream, or if he has decided to stay here standing guard, fighting loneliness and fear, risking everything to gain everything, the hand of Maria Guavaira and her possessions, if the terrifying threat should somehow fail to materialize, Maria Guavaira may come back here one day, if she should return she will find a man digging the soil or sleeping soundly after all that labor, in a cloud of blue wool.
All day long Joaquim Sassa struggled with the unwilling engine, José Anaiço helped as best he could, but what they knew between them was not enough to solve the problem. There were no parts missing, there was no lack of power, but somewhere deep down in the engine something had been damaged or broken, or had gradually worn out, it happens to people, it can also happen to machines, one day, without any warning, the body says no, or the soul, or the spirit, or the will, and nothing will move it, Deux Chevaux had also reached this point, it had brought Joaquim Sassa and José Anaiço all this way, it did not dump them in the middle of the road, so let them at least be grateful, there is no point in losing their temper, throwing punches solves nothing, kicking gets you nowhere. Deux Chevaux was finished. When they came indoors feeling discouraged, covered with grease, their hands filthy af
ter struggling, in the near-total absence of tools, with nuts, bolts, and gears, and went to clean themselves up, with the loving assistance of their womenfolk, the atmosphere was tense. How are we going to get out of this place now, asked Joaquim Sassa who, as the owner of the car, felt himself not only responsible but at fault, he saw it as an ungrateful act of destiny, a personal affront, certain susceptibilities about one's honor are no less irritating simply because they happen to be absurd.
Then a family council was convened, it promised to be a troubled session, but Maria Guavaira immediately took the initiative and made a proposal, I've got an old wagon here that we could use and a horse that's seen better days, but if we handle it carefully perhaps it'll get us there. Several moments of bewilderment followed, a natural reaction on the part of people accustomed to traveling by car and suddenly finding themselves obliged in a crisis to revert to old-fashioned means of transport. Is the wagon covered, Pedro Orce inquired, being a practical man and of an older generation, The awning must be worn by now but it can be patched if necessary, I've got some strong material that will do the job, And if we need to, said Joaquim Sassa, we can always strip away the canvas from Deux Chevaux since it won't be needed any more, and that'll be the last favor I owe it. They're all on their feet, cheerful, this promises to be a real adventure, traveling around the world in a wagon, the world in a manner of speaking, and they say, Let's go and see the horse, let's go and look at the wagon, Maria Guavaira has to explain that the wagon is not a carriage, it has four wheels, an axle in front for pulling it, and under the awning that will shelter them from the weather there's enough room for a family, with a little planning and economizing, this won't be so very different from living in a house.
The horse is old, it saw them coming into the stable and turned around to stare at them with its enormous black eyes, startled by the light and commotion. The wise man's saying is true, While there's life, there's hope, so do not despair.
From our distant vantage point, we know little about the twists and turns of the present crisis, latent since the breaking away of the peninsula but becoming ever more serious in government circles, especially since the celebrated invasion of the hotels when the ignorant masses trampled on law and order, insofar as no one can see how to resolve the situation in the immediate future and restore all property to its rightful owners, as the higher interests of morality and justice dictate. Above all, because no one knows if there will be any immediate future. The news that the peninsula is rushing at a speed of two kilometers per hour in the direction of the Azores was used by the Portuguese government as a pretext for resigning in view of the seriousness of the situation, the imminence of collective danger, which leads one to believe that governments are only capable and effective at times when there is no real need to put their ability and effectiveness to the test. The Prime Minister, in his speech to the nation, saw the one-party system of his government as an obstacle to the broad national consensus he considered indispensable if this terrible crisis was to be overcome and a state of normality restored. In keeping with this line of thought, he had proposed to the President of the Republic the formation of a government of national salvation with the participation of all political forces, with or without parliamentary representation, bearing in mind that one could always find a position, deputy undersecretary to the deputy secretary to some deputy minister, to give to a political crony who in normal circumstances would not even be entrusted with opening the door. Nor did he forget to make it quite clear that he and his ministers considered themselves at the service of the nation, ready to collaborate, in whatever new or different capacity, in the salvation of the fatherland and to contribute to the prosperity of the nation.
The President of the Republic accepted the government's resignation and, complying with the constitution and the established norms governing the democratic functioning of institutions, he invited the resigning Prime Minister, as the leader of the party most often elected, a party that so far had governed alone, without alliances, he invited him, as we were saying, to form the proposed government of national salvation. Because there can be no doubt that governments of national salvation are also perfectly valid, and one could even go so far as to say they are the best governments of all, the sad thing is that countries need them only very rarely, therefore we do not normally have governments that know how to govern nationally. On this most delicate issue there have been interminable debates among constitutionalists, political analysts, and other experts, and in all this time precious little has been added to the obvious meaning of these words, namely that a government of national salvation, because it is national and concerned with salvation, is one of national salvation. That is how any simpleton would put it, and he could not do better. The most interesting thing about all of this is that the moment the formation of the aforesaid government was announced, the masses suddenly felt they had been saved, or soon would be, although certain manifestations of innate skepticism are inevitable when the list of ministerial appointments is announced and their photographs appear in the newspapers and on television. At the end of the day they are the same old faces, and why should we have expected otherwise, since we are so unwilling to put ourselves forward.
We have already mentioned the danger Portugal is facing should she collide with the Azores, and also the secondary consequences, unless they turn out to be direct, threatening Galicia, but the situation of the population of the islands is obviously much more serious. What is an island, after all. An island, in this instance an entire archipelago, is the emergence of a submarine cordillera, and very often just the sharp peaks of rocky needles that miraculously remain upright through thousands of feet of water, an island, in short, is the most fortuitous of events. And now here is something that, although no more than an island, is so enormous and fast-moving that we are in great danger of witnessing, let us hope from a distance, the decapitation of São Miguel followed by that of the islands of Terceira, São Jorge, and Faial, and other islands of the Azores, with widespread loss of life, unless the government of national salvation, which is due to take office tomorrow, comes up very quickly with a way to evacuate thousands and millions of people to regions of reasonable safety, if such places exist. The President of the Republic, even before the new government started to function, has already appealed for international solidarity, thanks to which, as we are reminded, and this is only one of the many examples we could give, famine was once avoided in Africa. The countries of Europe, where, fortunately, a certain lowering of the tone in official references to Portugal and Spain has been evident ever since the serious identity crisis that arose when millions of Europeans resolved to declare themselves Iberian, received the appeal sympathetically and have already inquired how we would like to be helped, although, as usual, everything depends on their ability to meet our needs from whatever surplus they may have at their disposal. As for the United States of America, which should always be named in full, despite having sent word that the plan for a government of national salvation is not to its liking, it has declared that given the circumstances, it is nevertheless willing to evacuate the entire population of the Azores, which is just under two hundred and fifty thousand people, although there is still the problem of where to settle all those people, certainly not in the philanthropic United States, because of the strict immigration laws. The ideal solution, if you want to know, and this is the secret dream cherished by the State Department and the Pentagon, would be for the islands to stop the peninsula in its path, at whatever cost in death and destruction, for it would then be stuck in the middle of the Atlantic, with obvious strategic benefits for world peace and Western Civilization. The people will be told that the American squadrons are under orders to head for the Azores and upon arrival to pick up many thousands of the islanders, the rest will have to wait for the air lift that is currently being organized, Portugal and Spain will have to deal with any local problems, the Spanish less so than we Portuguese, for history and fortune have always treated the forme
r with all too obvious partiality.
Leaving aside the case of Galicia, a case and a region that are purely peripheral, or, to adopt other criteria, appendicular, Spain is protected from the more fatal consequences of the collision, since Portugal essentially acts as a screen or buffer. Problems of some logistic complexity have yet to be resolved, such as that posed by the important cities of Vigo, Pontevedra, Santiago de Compostela, and La Coruña, but, as for the rest, the people who live in villages are so accustomed to a precarious existence that, almost without waiting for orders, advice, or information, they have started retreating farther inland, peaceful and resigned, using the means of transport already described, and others as well, starting with the most primitive means of all, their own feet.
Portugal's situation, however, is quite different. Note that the entire coast, excepting the southern part of the Algarve, now finds itself in danger of being stoned by the islands of the Azores, the word stoned is used here because the outcome is much the same whether a stone hits us or we hit our head against a stone, it is all a question of speed and inertia, not forgetting that in this case, the head, even though wounded and cracked, will reduce all the stones to splinters. Under the circumstances, with a coastline like this, nearly all of it flat, and with the proximity of the larger cities to the sea, and taking into account the unpreparedness of the Portuguese for the slightest catastrophe, earthquake, flood, forest fire, or drought, it is doubtful whether the government of salvation will know how to do its duty. The best solution, actually, would be deliberately to stir up panic, to rush people into abandoning their homes and force them to seek refuge farther inland. The worst thing of all will be if people start to run out of food, either during the journey or wherever they decide to settle, then there will be so much indignation and frustration that all hell will break loose. We are worried, naturally, but frankly we would be much more worried if we happened to be in Galicia watching the travel preparations of Maria Guavaira and Joaquim Sassa, Joana Carda and José Anaiço, Pedro Orce and the Dog, the relative importance of topics is variable, it depends on the point of view, the humor of the moment, one's personal sympathies, the objectivity of the narrator is a modern invention, we need only reflect that our Lord God didn't want it in His Book.
The Stone Raft (Harvest Book) Page 21
