Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth. Some scenes are present day; some are up to three months before present day.
Chapter 5
June 12th
Diego looked above his head and felt his stomach rumble from hunger. Those coconuts were calling to him.
"Nothing for it but the trying!" he said aloud, scaring a small bird in a nearby bush into flight.
"Not used to voices, are you?" he shouted after the flying bird. Looking up at the long trunk reaching up into the sky above him, he said under his breath, "But, at least, you've got wings. I could use a pair about now."
There was a clap of thunder from the west and Diego acknowledged it with a chuckle. "I didn't mean right now!"
The sky was getting darker as he stood there and he knew he had to tackle the tree now, before any lightning came into the area. So he stripped off what was left of his shirt, and placed it carefully on the top of a bush nearby. It wouldn't do to let some small creature make off with it while he was climbing. The cloth itself might be needed for something later even its original purpose had been lost.
"Lost, like me," he mumbled as he grabbed the huge tree trunk. The ridged bark of the tree was rough on his hands and he longed briefly for Zorro's gloves. "In fact," he said to himself, "all of Zorro's equipment would come in handy just about now."
Pieces of the bark crumbled off into his hands and loosened his handholds every few feet as he climbed. He made it up as far as ten feet before he fell back to the sandy ground, landing flat on his back. "All right, I give!" he cried to the tree. "You can keep your old coco—"
His eyes turned to the constantly pounding surf as he spoke, and the remains of the mast and sail caught his attention. The rope that had held him fast to the wood was still there, and he'd forgotten all about it.
Within minutes he was up and running for the rope. His body had responded well to the day of rest and water and his resilience was returning.
He selected the longest length of rope and, remembering what he'd read about how it was done by native peoples of islands in the south, he attacked the tree once more. He wound the rope around his own body and then the tree trunk and tied it fast. Then slowly, deliberately, he began the process of lifting the rope inches at a time up the trunk of the tree, leaning his weight back into the rope at his back, and bracing his progress with his legs. Inches became feet as his confidence grew with his experience.
The coming storm still thundered in the distance, telling him to hurry, but he kept his pace steady. It would not do to fall again and he needed to accomplish getting those coconuts to the ground before the storm arrived. There was no telling how long it would last, and his body needed food.
He kept up a low conversation with himself the entire time. "A good rope. Sometimes it's the most important thing in the world." Eyeing the coconuts that were just a few feet from his head, he quickened his pace slightly. "They're not steak, but I'll bet they will taste as good tonight!" He climbed higher.
When he reached the top, he finally pulled one coconut into his hands and wrested it from its home in the deep green fronds. Then, aiming carefully for a very large rock below, he threw it with all his might, hoping it would crack from the impact. It bounced away intact and nestled underneath one of the scrub brushes. He threw another and another with the same results. After littering the beach with enough coconuts to last him a good while, for he didn't want to have to make this climb too often, he descended the tree trunk rapidly. The storm was intensifying and he still had to construct a shelter of sorts.
Achieving the ground once more, he released his tight hold on the rope and massaged his hands. His back ached from the fall he'd taken earlier. One more look up the tree trunk convinced him that it was something he didn't want to do every day. He turned to collect his harvest of coconuts, scrabbling in the bushes to get every last one and stack them in a pile.
Suddenly, a nice plump coconut landed with a thump, just inches away from his foot.
Diego sighed and gave the tree a dirty look.
Then he carefully moved his stash of coconuts away from the palm tree, lest any others should hurl themselves at him during the night.
September 19th
As Big Jim Jarrett led Señorita Escalante up the gangplank of the Tesoroall the eyes of the crew locked on her immediately in concern. She smiled at them as she alighted on deck, but their stares grew even more intense.
"Men, this is Señorita Escalante. She will be joining us on our voyage and you will show her the respect a lady deserves. Is that clear?" he challenged, looking around at the glaring men.
A low mumble was all the answer he received. He turned to his first mate and issued orders for the señorita's wagon to be brought to the small, remote quayside, the supplies it carried to be brought on board, and the wagon hidden well in the immediate area so it could be found when they returned. The first mate shot the señorita a harsh look before turning to gather enough men to complete the tasks.
Victoria was beginning to feel a sense of alarm at the hostility she felt from the men and she tugged at Big Jim's sleeve to get his attention. "Jim, are you sure—"
He saw her face and laughed heartily. "Señorita, don't bother your pretty head about them. Pirates…well, not just pirates, but all seamen would not take too kindly to see a woman brought aboard ship. It's bad luck, you see." He laughed at her expression.
"Bad luck?" A shiver went up her spine. Bad luck was the last thing they needed.
"Yes. A woman aboard a ship is a 'Jonah' and the men aren't going to like it. You couldn't expect them to. But it will be all right. I have an idea about that." He looked at her mischievously.
"What idea?" As he turned and ducked down low to go below deck, she followed him closely, not wanting to be too far from his protective presence. "What are you planning?"
He opened the door to his cabin and motioned her inside. "It's not much," he apologized, "but it is the best onboard, the captain's cabin."
He winked at her and, momentarily, her nervousness returned. Just how had she gotten into such a situation, on a ship, in a small cabin with a man known to be a pirate!
But before she could continue thinking along such lines, he turned to her and said, "Now, as to how you can win my men over…that's easy. We've just picked up a load of food supplies and you, Señorita, are one of the best cooks in all of Alta California. If you're willing, I'll just bet my men can overlook their fear of a little bad luck with their stomachs full of some good cooking for a change." He looked at her expectantly.
Victoria laughed out loud. "Pirates, lancers, caballeros! You're all the same, deep down, aren't you? You are all ruled by your stomachs!"
Big Jim laughed too. "Afraid so, Señorita, 'fraid so."
June 12th
As dusk fell around Diego, he finished up the make-shift shelter. Built of palm fronds, sticks, mud and the large leaves of some plant he didn't recognize, it seemed sturdy enough to last the night at least, and he'd be glad of it as soon as the black clouds just overhead relieved themselves of the heavy burden they carried.
The fire he'd made burned low and provided him some temporary warmth as he returned to his coconuts. He had managed to crack two of them open and even saved most of the milk for drinking. It was a nice change from the brownish water he had been forced to drink. Even filtered through cloth, it just wouldn not let go of all the silt and mud. But it was not brackish tasting, so at least it would sustain his life, and the meat of the coconuts would give him food.
He looked around him in the dim light and saw small pebbles of sand here and there on the beach glittering brightly, reflecting the firelight. Reaching forward, he selected one of the tiny grains of sand and inspected it closely. It was perfectly clear like a very small diamond, or more precisely, like a very small piece of glass.
Diego's mind grew focused. Glass. If only he could build a big enough fire, or rather, a hot enough fire, he just might be able to make some glass. With some glass, he could make glassware and with that, he could distill the water. But one glance up at the threatening thunderclouds above him, he knew it was no use. This storm was going to soak everything around him. There would be no available fuel for a time.
"I will have to start working at making some tools tomorrow", he thought as he nibbled his coconut meat and drank the last of the milk. This was not going to be easy.
He sighed deeply, thinking of his home, his family and Victoria. What must they be thinking? Had they even heard about the shipwreck yet? Did they believe him to be dead?
This would be a paradise if it were not for the loneliness. Whenever Victoria came into his thoughts, he could almost imagine her there, at his side. Sometimes he talked to this mental vision of her. Always, he whispered her name just to hear it, to give him the strength to go on and make whatever effort was needed for his survival.
The wind picked up and the rain finally began to fall. Diego scooted back up underneath the shelter he had constructed, hoping it would stand up against the winds.
All his efforts today, climbing, cracking coconuts and gathering his building materials had taken a toll on his body. He was tired. As he retreated even further towards the back of the small tent-like structure, he groaned out loud as another new bruise made itself known to him. His back ached and so did his right arm. In fact, now that he was taking stock of his aches and pains, he didn't know what part of his body didn't hurt.
"I guess climbing palm trees and whacking coconuts use a different set of muscles than fencing and riding," he thought. "I suppose I shall get used to it. Who knows how long before a ship passes this way? I could be here quite a while."
He looked out at the falling rain and was thankful for it even if it did make his night uncomfortable. At least, tomorrow he would have nice fresh rainwater to drink. The upturned coconut shells he had set out carefully would catch enough water for several days, and he would be able to forego the muddy well. "Yes, much better," he thought. "I wonder how often it rains here."
As the rain beat down, softly and steadily, it lulled him to sleep. Drifting off into dreams of riding across desert plains on Tornado with Victoria in his arms, he whispered her name. "Victoria. Victoria, don't give up on me."
September 22nd
The pirates were quite happy with simple fare for their meals. Meat and potatoes, eggs and bread. Victoria cooked for them all and grew quite fond of them. They were definitely an appreciative lot. If any of them uttered the word "Jonah," he was shushed immediately by the others, for no one wanted to lose their new lady cook. The food was simply just too good.
Victoria was actually enjoying the voyage in spite of her worry about Diego. After running a tavern with the problems that she experienced there, it was nice to just be appreciated for cooking such a simple thing as a perfect egg. The men carefully toned down their rough language whenever she came near and they were absolutely protective of her, making sure she was cool enough, warm enough, or that the sun wasn't in her eyes.
She didn't know it, but several of them, the younger ones, were quite falling in love with her. She was the prettiest little señorita that many of them had been around in years.
And they all knew that if her safety were ever threatened in any way by any one of them, then that man would be answering to Big Jim.
Big Jim spent his time pouring over maps. He had treasure maps, coastal maps and hand-drawn maps of his own making and he consulted them daily. With his sextant and other instruments spread before him, he was deep in thought when Victoria came up behind him.
"Big Jim?" She said his name quietly. She had learned it was the best way among these men who were startled so easily by a woman's presence aboard the ship.
"Señorita! Come. Sit!" He smiled up at her with a simple sincerity.
"Have you figured anything out yet?" she asked, hoping for a positive answer.
"Well, these islands here," he pointed to a small scattering of irregularly shaped blobs in the middle of nothing on the map before him, "they could be our starting point. According to the bosun's mate," Big Jim looked down at some papers in his right hand, "the ship went down about here."
Victoria winced as she saw him point to a place on his map very far from any of the little blobs he said were islands.
"Prevailing winds were easterly until the storm when all hel—" He stopped himself and looked up at her quickly. "Pardon, I didn't —"
"It's all right. Just go on." She overturned an empty nearby bucket, picked up her skirts and sat down near him.
He smiled at her and, not for the first time, felt a little envy of Diego for having a lady so fine who was also so real. "Well, here," he pointed again, "is where we are going. We'll search down this way, using a grid to mark it off as we go." He checked the papers again. "And here is where —"
"Big Jim!" Victoria cried in surprise. "I just realized, you are reading!" She was delighted, for when they had first met a long time ago, the man could not.
"Yes, Mam, I learned. Pepe helped me and now, I can even make out words in three or four different languages as well," he said proudly. "It was Don Diego who gave me the books when we settled in Los Angeles for that short time. We started there and then and I think those first lessons helped us to get to know each other even quicker." His eyes grew a bit moist at the memories just stirred and he cleared his throat abruptly and returned to pointing to the map. "But, getting back to this, here is where we are, or rather, where we'll be in a few more hours, if the weather holds."
He checked the skies and she turned her head to look up too, though she didn't know exactly what he was looking for as he scanned the skies and horizon.
"Yes," he said, "we'll make good time. The Tesero is a good ship. Bought her with the treasure we found, and named her for it too."
"The Treasure of Port-au-Prince?"
He nodded.
"So it did exist. You said it didn't!"
"I also said it did. Never trust the word of a pirate. Haven't you learned that yet?" he teased.
"Well, I hope we can trust the word of those sailors. We can't afford to waste any more time. Diego is out there somewhere. Who knows what shape he's in or if he's hurt or —" She was working her emotions into a frenzy again with all her wonderings.
"Now, now, Missy, we'll find him. Big Jim and his men found the Treasure of Port-au-Prince. I doubt finding one Spanish caballero can be any more difficult than that." He winked at her playfully. But inside, he had his own doubts. He thought, "It would be better if we were looking for a man like Zorro, for I don't know if a man like Don Diego really ever had a chance."
"You know, Señorita, I have been wondering…"
"Yes, Big Jim?"
"Well, last time I was in the pueblo, it was Zorro you were all cozy with, according to all the gossip, that is. How's he going to feel about you going off to find Don Diego?"
"He'll understand." She chewed on her lower lip, wondering how much more she should tell him. "Big Jim, my…relationship with Zorro… that is not what it once was."
"Uh huh?" he answered, hoping she would continue.
"Yes, you see, it has really been difficult trying to have any ..." She searched for the right word.
"Relationship?" he offered, as he watched her face intently.
"Yes, relationship. A relationship with a hero like Zorro, well, I should have known it would not work. It just never had …"
"Any future," he finished her sentence.
"Yes, exactly. And recently, I discovered that Diego is …well, he's more…"
"More like the man you want to marry?" he asked, nodding his head up and down.
"Yes, yes, that's it." She had had quite enough of this sort of conversation. She could feel his eyes boring into her, like he was trying to see right through her. "Well, I am going to leave you with your maps and things. I have to start the evening meal."
"That is good. What are we having tonight, Señorita?"
"Stew, I think. The men have been asking for that again. And I made some nice cakes I think they will like as well."
"Sounds good," he said as she turned to retreat back to her small kitchen area in the galley. As she walked away, he thought to himself, "Also sounds like maybe Don Diego has more of a chance than I thought!"
