VOYAGE OF STRANGERS Read Free Page A

was burden enough for me without loading it on another’s shoulders. As for Hutia, having seen one of his people so wronged, I could hardly bear to meet his eyes.
    The remaining days fle w by, yet in my darker moments, they seemed unendurably long. When it came time to choose the forty men who would remain at La Navidad when the rest departed, I was tense and nervous. My palms were damp with sweat and my teeth had a tendency to chatter, despite the scorching tropical heat. I hardly knew what to hope for. Being left behind with Cabrera would prove a certain death sentence. But further voyaging under even more cramped conditions than before would provide opportunities for him to do me harm as well. To my relief, the Admiral chose Cabrera and the other cronies of the treacherous Juan de la Cosa to man the fort. Thus he separated them from De la Cosa himself, whom he naturally wanted to keep under his eye. He said nothing of me, so I would sail on with the Admiral on the Niña, there being still no sign of the Pinta.
    Once the men were chosen, Admiral Columbus entered into negotiations with the cacique for interpreters who spoke the local dialect.  The chosen Indians bore little in the way of gear or possessions as they climbed into the ship’s boat, in which we would row out to the Niña. It seemed to me that in some respects they embodied Christian principles far better than the Spanish Christians. But I reminded myself that I must not criticize, for I was not free of fault myself. Thinking of how I had concealed a murder, however good the reason, I thanked Ha’shem that I did not believe in the Christians’ hell.
    The new fort’s whole garrison and every soul in the village came down to the beach to see the Niña sail. I felt both glad and sorry to be leaving as I boarded the boat myself and took an oar. I paid little attention to the Indians until Hutia came running down to the boat. He called out, “ Baba! baba! ” One of our new interpreters, evidently Hutia’s father, stood up and held out his hands, which Hutia grasped. Speaking rapidly in Taino, they embraced. Their hands clung and then parted. Hutia stepped back onto the shore.
    In the forefront of the crowd, I could see Cabrera with his arm around a woman. He clutched at her naked body as he leered at me. Still holding her, he raised a gourd of chicha , or perhaps a stronger spirit made from the plant that they called yuca . He waved it at me in a jeering salute, then poured the liquor down his throat.
    Beside me, Hutia’s father called out, “Anacaona?”
    “ Itá ,” Hutia replied. I don’t know.
    The father sighed deeply. Hutia looked grave and sad, with no trace of the twinkle that usually lurked in his black eyes.
    I looked from Hutia to his father and then at Cabrera on the shore. I leaped to my feet, thrusting my oar at Fernando on the bench beside me.
    “Don’t let them leave without me!” I said.
    I splashed through the shallows to the beach, where Hutia, looking puzzled, came down to meet me where the water met the sand. Cabrera, a quick glance told me, was paying no attention. Another woman had joined the first, and he was busily engaged in nuzzling them both. Ordinarily, this lewd behavior would have caught the Admiral’s eye and been stopped at once. But in the excitement of our departure, Cabrera clearly thought he was safe from interference.
    I grasped Hutia’s shoulders with some urgency.
    “Anacaona,” I said. “Is she missing? Guaibá ?”
    “ Itá .”
    “ Ocama !” I said. Listen! “I know what happened to her.”
    I turned him toward Cabrera, to direct his attention to the man without drawing anyone else’s notice as I racked my brain for Taino words to convey my meaning.
    “Anacaona! That man killed her!” I could not bring myself to mime the rape, but Hutia’s face darkened as I demonstrated with my own hands and body the blow to the jaw and the squeezing of her throat.
    “ Anki! ” I said. Evil person. “ Akani!