Chapter 95 – Having a rough time
Diego was right: the "Santa Eulalia" was certainly a fast ship, and under the competent command of Captain Ulloa, who took pride in keeping to the schedule like clockwork, it made good progress travelling South along the Mexican Coast, stopping at a few large ports like Acapulco to get more cargo and passengers on board.
During the next stretch of the journey, on the way to El Callao in Peru, they encountered a series of mild ocean storms. After a long night suffering from nausea and seasickness while weathering a storm that rocked the ship more than usual, Victoria got out of bed at dawn to get some much-needed fresh air. It was hard to leave the cosy warmth of Diego's body behind, but she moved slowly to avoid waking him up, wriggling carefully out of his protective embrace.
On deck, she met a solitary, older woman in her fifties, who had also had a rough night.
"Buenos días. How are you feeling this morning?" Doña Margarita said.
"Buenos días. Not as bad as I was a moment ago, thanks to this lovely, cold breeze," Victoria said, taking in a deep breath, enjoying the clean, fresh scent of the ocean, so different from the dusty, dry air of Los Angeles. "I thought I would not make it through the night, the way the ship was swaying."
"It's hard to be at sea when you are expecting. How far are you?"
"Ten weeks, but… how do you know? I thought it didn't show yet," Victoria said, examining her still thin, but slightly bloated, waist.
"That's easy: you glow."
That comment made Victoria laugh.
"Glow? I should be called Esmeralda then, because my face has shown a shade of green most of the time since I got on board!"
It was the older woman's turn to laugh.
"Of course, my child, I was only joking: the "pregnancy glow" is only a myth. I think men like telling us we look gorgeous while expecting only to keep us happy, and keen to endure more dreadful pregnancies… But, in your case, it was easy to guess: with such a handsome, loving husband, I had to assume you would be pregnant already. You are my favourite couple on board, you know?"
"Are we? But we haven't met before..."
"I got on board in Acapulco, last week, but you probably didn't notice. I've seen you two strolling on deck a few times before, but as you hardly feel like leaving your berth to have meals with the rest of the passengers, it has been difficult to socialize. Are you newlyweds in your honeymoon?"
"Yes, we are. But now I'm not so sure this trip to Europe is a good idea."
"No, it is. Come with me, and you'll see one of the reasons why. This is my favourite time of the day, as well as sunset. Especially after a stormy night."
The woman took her hand and led her to the front of the ship. At the port side, they watched the sun slowly making its way out of the water.
"That's so beautiful," Victoria said, enchanted by the magnificent view.
"Yes, it is. Things like this make all the sailing sickness worthwhile, don't you think?"
"I agree, thank you," Victoria said with a wide grin, forgetting for a moment her discomfort while enjoying the spectacular array of colours, the perfect combination of yellow, orange, pink and blue. "So, why are you travelling to Spain, if I may ask?"
"Of course you can ask, my dear. My husband died a few months ago, and I don't have any family left in America, so I'm returning to Madrid to live with my son. Oh, where are my manners? Doña Margarita Álvarez. So nice to meet you."
"Victoria Esca… Doña Victoria de la Vega. Nice to meet you too," Victoria answered, still not used to her new name.
"De la Vega? I met a De la Vega once, at Madrid, when I was only a child: Alejandro de la Vega. What a handsome fellow, he was. A few years older than me, but even as a child I was old enough to appreciate good husband material... But he married my older sister's friend, Elena, and a couple of years later, they left for California. I haven't heard from him in decades, but after all these years, I never forgot his smile. That lovely smile…"
Before Victoria could answer, Doña Margarita looked behind the younger woman, over her shoulder.
"Look, someone is looking for you," the woman said, waving at Diego.
"Here you are! You got me worried for a moment," Diego said, coming closer to pass a protective arm around Victoria's growing waist, kissing her cheek. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I feel better now, with all this fresh air. And the view is gorgeous," Victoria said, looking back at the rising sun. "This is Doña Margarita Álvarez. My husband, Diego de la Vega."
"Encantado de conocerla," he said, gallantry bowing to kiss her hand.
"El gusto es mío," she replied, delighted by his good manners.
"I think she may have met your handsome father and his lovely smile," Victoria said with a playful grin.
"Wait, are you the son of Alejandro and Elena de la Vega?" Doña Margarita said, surprised.
"Yes, I am."
"Fancy that… It's a small world!"
From that moment on, the two women became inseparable best friends on that ship.
ZZZ
Captain Ulloa was a middle-age, short but well-built, hardened marino from Guetaria, a fishermen Villa in the Basque Country, in the North of Spain, a land that had provided distinguished sailors to the Spanish Naval History, like Juan Sebastian de Elcano, the first man to circumnavigate the globe in 1522, many years before Francis Drake claimed to do so in 1580.
Many navy officers were born in that part of the country, like Blas de Lezo, the great Spanish Admiral who defeated the English fleet at Cartagena de Indias while greatly outnumbered in manpower, firepower, and in the number of ships, with only 6 vessels under his command against 187 enemy ones; or Brigadier Cosme Damián Churruca, who died while fighting six British ships on his own and all at the same time at Trafalgar, only a few years before, in 1805.
At 16, Ulloa had left his home to serve at the Navy for twelve years, until he left the Spanish Armada in 1801 with enough experience to command trading vessels in the American routes, like the "Santa Eulalia", his current pride and joy. If he hadn't been at the other side of the Atlantic Ocean at the time of that disastrous battle off the coast of Cádiz, he would probably be dead now like so many other valuable Spanish officers and sailors, who fought at Trafalgar in a combined fleet badly commanded by the French Admiral Villeneuve.
Ulloa had a special interest in history and science, and during the long voyage to Spain, he had enjoyed a few conversations with Diego already, mainly in the rare instances when he wasn't busy on deck. That budding friendship had resulted in the privilege of a dinner invitation for the De la Vegas at the captain's private cabin, an invitation that got extended to Doña Margarita.
That Saturday night, during the course of the meal, Diego was fascinated by the number of odd, compulsive rituals Ulloa would engage in, like the way he rotated his dish clockwise as he ate his meal, one portion at a time; the way he always touched the glass with his left knuckles first before he grabbed it with the right; or how he turned the salt and pepper shakers so they would always face in the same direction, towards the door. At one point, Diego placed the salt shaker facing in the wrong direction on purpose, exchanging glances with Victoria when Ulloa, casually but immediately, placed it back to its original position, not missing a beat of the conversation with Doña Margarita while he continued eating his meal and mechanically rotating his plate 30 degrees, like a machine, at each bite. For a curious, science man like Diego, watching an ex-navy officer wasting time an effort in such trivial and unimportant ways to maintain total control of his environment was… mesmerizing, to say the least.
On deck, Diego had seen that man turning twice around the main mast anticlockwise every time he got near it, in another seemingly absurd, unconscious repetition that looked so odd in a man otherwise so lucid and capable. How much he would like to consult with Doctor Hernández about the causes of such odd behaviour, but the good doctor was many miles away, back in Los Angeles, out of reach, as it was Diego's vast collection of medical books, so he got left to wonder.
That evening, the fluid conversation touched many topics, until it got to the inevitable one: the rough conditions at sea, for sailors and passengers alike, and the length of any sailing trip between America and Europe.
"When I came to Mexico with my husband, many years ago, we disembarked at Veracruz and travelled by land in a carriage, until we settled in Acapulco. Couldn't we travel by land to the other side of the continent at Panamá, for example, to get on another ship there? Wouldn't that be a much shorter trip to Spain?" Doña Margarita asked the captain. "Three months of straight sailing around South America, as a minimum, probably closer to five, seems like an awfully long time to waste in anybody's life."
"Yes, crossing by land at Panamá is shorter in distance, and faster overall, but this time of the year is the hurricane season at the Caribbean Sea. Going around Cape Horn will be a longer, but much safer route," the captain said.
"I thought sailing around the Cabo de Hornos was one of the most dangerous passages for a ship in the whole world," Diego said, regretting his careless comment immediately when he saw the worry in Victoria's face.
"It is, especially if travelling east to west, but don't worry, ladies, because it will not be our case. Still, it's always safer facing the strong winds and icebergs at the Horn than facing a full-blown hurricane at the Caribbean. Or it's pirates," the captain said between mouthfuls, shrugging his shoulders as he kept turning his plate, in a quite nonchalant attitude for such significant matters.
"Pirates?" Doña Margarita said, alarmed, like dreading to say the word aloud.
"Yes, pirates, but don't fret, because at these modern times, piracy is well on its way out. A distasteful business of the past, that was encouraged by the kings of many nations in the form of privateers, especially the English, but not anymore. It would be very unlikely to come across one of the few remaining pirate vessels still operating in that area, but because we are not going to sail anywhere near them, there is nothing to worry about," he added, taking another mouthful of the delicious lamb casserole.
"Thank God for that!" Victoria said, comforting the older woman, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"My great uncle got killed by pirates in Barbados," Doña Margarita said. "It was a long time ago, but… the mere thought of it!"
"As the captain said: don't worry about it," Diego said, tapping her hand while glaring at Ulloa for being so callous. But the captain looked like a practical, tell-it-like-it-is kind of man unable to sugar-coat the naked truth, and he carried on talking, oblivious.
"Unfortunately, there is no easy way to travel between California and Spain, señoras, especially not at this time of the year. Although, for centuries there's been talking about the excavation of an artificial canal between the two oceans. And that's something I would like to witness with my own eyes before I die."
"Me too," Diego said. "It will be an impressive work of engineering to build a canal that overcomes the difference in height of the two oceans, because sailing boats can't travel uphill."
"Yes, that is one of the main challenges of such project: to build a lock system that would allow for the lifting and lowering of the vessels to the right level without flooding the surrounding land."
The men engaged then in a rather technical discussion of modern engineering, that equally fascinated and bored the two women, until the cook brought in the dessert: apple pie.
Pastel de manzana was one of Victoria's firm favourites, but after only a couple of bites, her pregnancy played out and she felt quite queasy all of a sudden.
"Are you all right, mi niña? You're not glowing anymore," Doña Margarita whispered when she saw her in trouble.
Victoria smiled, but soon she had to excuse herself to rush to her cabin, where she vomited one more time in her well-used bucket. Such a waste of an otherwise delightful and nutritious meal!
ZZZ
While that happened so many miles away from Los Angeles, De Soto, now fully recovered from his first and only encounter with Zorro so far, was having dinner at the tavern after returning from a round trip to Monterey, where he had failed to get more troops assigned to the garrison by the Governor —only a minor setback in his determination to catch the masked renegade.
"There you go, Alcalde: our speciality, gourmet cuisine," Pilar said in a more or less acceptable French, serving him the chicken special.
"What? What did you say?"
"Gourmet cuisine: delicias de pollo. Everybody loves them."
"How did you…?" De Soto started, but was interrupted by Mendoza, who happened to walk by, on his way to another table.
"Alcalde, I see you are trying the gormé cochín tonight. I'll have the same, Pilar, por favor."
"This is not French cuisine, you fool! This is arroz con pollo!"
"Delicious, nonetheless. Bon appétit!"
De Soto looked at the sergeant as he walked past, baffled. And he looked even more perplexed when he heard Pablo, one of the vaqueros at the De la Vega hacienda, ordering the same dish, also in French, and then the doctor, calling from another table.
"I'll have the gourmet cuisine, s'il vous plaît," Doctor Hernández said in a perfect French.
What where the odds of so many people sharing a fondness for French cooking in that forsaken little pueblo? It looked like Zorro was right, and using a few French words here and there was not out of the ordinary for the citizens of Los Angeles. Who would have thought?
De Soto tucked in, and he soon had to agree with the rest of those simpletons: that chicken had nothing to envy to the most famous restaurants in Paris. What an amazing discovery!
"Did it work?" Pilar whispered to Mendoza when she brought him the wine. The sergeant, caught with a mouthful of chicken, swallowed it quickly while turning around to look at the alcalde, who looked delighted, also eating his meal with gusto.
"I think so. Look at him, munching away like a busy squirrel! The next time he shows up for a meal, he'll ask for it in French himself, you'll see."
"Good! One less thing to worry about," Pilar said, laughing. "I fretted about not cooking this dish to Victoria's high standards."
"No need to worry: this recipe is delicious. Superb. A gift to humanity from God Almighty," Mendoza said, licking his fingers clean.
"Even better than tamales?"
Mendoza thought about it for a moment before he continued eating.
"That would be a close call, but yes, even better."
ZZZ
Victoria had another rough night, vomiting several times, well into the afternoon, something that worried Diego greatly.
"Should we get off this ship at El Callao, querida? Captain Ulloa said we should get there in ten days, if all goes well."
"No, I'm fine," Victoria said, retching one more time. She looked like a wreck, leaning over that bucket, all sweaty and dishevelled. Certainly not fine, and far from the glowing kind of pregnant lady she would like to be.
"There's no need to carry on suffering like this until we get to Spain. We could honeymoon in Lima instead, and the baby could be born there. It's a nice place, and I have some distant relatives in Perú we could visit."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes. You heard the captain: this is only going to get worse the further south we get, especially at the Cabo de Hornos. I know from experience, because when I travelled to Spain to study at Madrid, we encountered huge waves and very strong winds that rocked the ship constantly for three days. It was a nightmare. Even I suffered from seasickness back then."
"You? Sick?" she said, trying to imagine how bad going around Cape Horn could be then.
"Yes, sick as a dog. Almost… like you, right now."
Victoria didn't find that comment funny, but she gave up, finally admitting she was struggling.
"In that case, maybe we should give up our vacation in Spain for now and return to California when I feel better, so our baby can be born at home," she remarked, still dreading the possibility her baby would be Tomás's, and not Diego's. "Doña Margarita says I should feel better on the second semester of the pregnancy. She had four children; she knows what she's talking about."
"I really hope you get to feel better soon."
"Me too. Now, give me a hand. I would like to get outside to get some fresh air, please."
"Of course."
It was cold outside that evening, and the deck was almost deserted, with only a few sailors on hand. Victoria walked to the front of the ship to watch the sunset, an activity that had become a firm favourite since her first encounter with Doña Margarita. She shivered when the cold wind hit her petite body, so Diego removed his jacket to place it over her shoulders.
"Look at that. It's especially beautiful today," she said, looking at the reddened sky and the sinking ball of fire, pressing her back against Diego's body, seeking his warmth.
"Yes," Diego said, embracing her from behind, placing his hands over her abdomen. "When will I feel this little one's feet kicking about?"
"I think there is a long way until that happens," Victoria said, laughing, holding onto his hands. "At the moment, I have enough with all the havoc your baby is causing in my stomach. I don't need any kicks, thanks."
At that moment, a pod of dolphins appeared at the bow.
"Mira, delfines!" she cried, delighted.
The friendly creatures surfed the wave created by the ship, twisting and turning as they glided through the water, even leaping in the air sometimes, pirouetting.
"What are they doing?"
"Bow riding. They love to catch a free ride."
"Look at them! They are really enjoying it!"
They watched the dolphins having fun until they disappeared, as fast as they had appeared, back into the depths of the ocean.
Victoria had a chill then, shaking in Diego's arms.
"Are you alright? Should we go back inside? It's quite cold out here tonight."
"Yes, let's go back."
As they walked along, Victoria stopped and bent forward, suddenly in pain, letting out a cry.
"What's wrong?" Diego said.
"I don't know. It hurts!"
As she stumbled, Diego got her in his strong arms and swiftly rushed her back to bed. When she started bleeding, they realized what was happening: she was suffering a miscarriage.
ZZZZZ
A.N – Yes, I know. I've outdone myself with a new level of maiming: harming unborn babies!
I may burn in hell, but… in this case, it's for the best.