Chapter 96 – Keep calm and carry on

It was a cold evening, becoming quite windy. After checking the ship had the right rigging for the night passage, Captain Ulloa returned to the bridge.

Why do I have to do this? Why? Ulloa thought as he walked across the main deck. I'm such a fool.

The same as he had done hundreds of times before when he got near the main mast, he walked twice around it. He was fed up of keeping up with those silly rituals, but after so many years not having trouble with his ships, he didn't want to break his string of good luck, always feeling the compulsive need to carry on doing it, if only one more time.

Many of his naval acquaintances had lost ships, members of the crew, and even their own lives at sea, but he hadn't. That horrible accident his youngest cabin boy had when they set sail at San Pedro had been one of the worst, and that had unsettled him, pushing him into a manic state of compulsive behaviour. Simply put, he knew what he was doing was ridiculous, but he couldn't stop. And he kept adding more and more ritualistic moves and petty habits every day, making him painfully aware he could be going insane fast.

Ulloa had seen the odd look in his guests' eyes during dinner, when he displayed his usual array of absurd moves at the table, and he hated it. What he was doing was irrational, unpractical, ridiculous, and at the same time… vital.

"Captain! Is there a doctor on board?"

He turned to spot that man, Diego de la Vega, rushing towards him in a state.

"No, there isn't. Almeida, our boatswain, worked with a bonesetter in his youth, and he has some medical knowledge, but you probably know more than him. What's the matter?"

"My wife is suffering a miscarriage."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I could ask the passengers; we may be lucky and find a doctor or a midwife among them."

"Yes, please, do that. Thank you!"

As fast as he came, De la Vega ran back to his berth. It was a shame, but ladies' matters were beyond the basic medical knowledge of the crew. Amputations, the contramaestre Almeida could deal with, if drunk enough. Miscarriages? Delivering babies? Not a clue.

"Almeida!" Ulloa cried, calling the boatswain as he reached the bridge.

"Yes, Captain!" the dark-skinned Andalusian from Málaga replied, standing tall, at attention.

"Find out if there is a doctor on board, among the passengers. Or a midwife. Anyone with the slightest knowledge of miscarriages or delivering babies would do, unless you have any yourself, by any chance. Do you?"

"No, Sir! Not a clue of them ladies, Sir!"

"I didn't think it would be the case… All right, find someone to help Don Diego de la Vega at cabin 12, please. And if you don't find anybody, do your best to assist him yourself."

"Aye, aye, Captain!"

After the boatswain left, Ulloa remained at the bridge, lost in thought. He wanted to help the De la Vegas, but he didn't know exactly how.

"Change of heading, Sir?" the helmsman said, sensing his hesitation.

"No. Steady as she goes, 150 degrees."

"Aye, aye, Sir!"

Heading for the coast would not change anything, as they were too far away from any large ports, and anchoring in a secluded cove somewhere, if they managed to find one in the dark without running aground, would not be of any use for anyone.

No, there wasn't much he could do to help that night, other than to carry on to reach El Callao as soon as possible.

ZZZ

I should have never, ever, taken a pregnant wife in such a long maritime voyage! Diego thought for the umpteenth time while running back to his beloved, self-deprecating.

What the hell was he thinking? Suffering for seasickness was a common occurrence for inland passengers not used to be at sea, but suffering from that, with the pregnancy sickness on top, was too much for Victoria. And there was no doctor around with enough knowledge to tend for ladies in their hour of need. It didn't matter they should have reached Spain by the time she should go into labour, because… what if she had done so prematurely? Who would have helped her then to deliver the baby? No, he had been an idiot getting her into that ship. A total moron. And now… this.

Deep down, Diego thought it was for the best Victoria had a miscarriage, and he hated himself for thinking that, but he couldn't help it. Despite what he had told her, he would have always wondered if that child was Tomas's or his own. He felt ashamed of himself, and guilty as hell, but now it was too late to help her. She had lost her child, and it was his fault.

And now, on top of the misery of losing their unborn baby, he could also lose her, because she was bleeding way too much, too fast.

At their cabin, Doña Margarita was tending for a rather pale looking Victoria, with the little knowledge she had from her own experience in her four deliveries.

Think, for goodness' sake, think! Diego urged himself, trying to recall what herbal remedies he could use, but his mind had gone into a blind panic, and he couldn't remember.

After a short while, he reached for the trunk under the bed and pulled it out, carelessly rummaging through the contents, tossing items out of the way, including some of Zorro's distinctive black gear, like the hat, totally oblivious to the fact Doña Margarita could see them.

ZZZ

Doña Margarita held Victoria's hand while trying to reassure her.

"I lost my baby," Victoria said, in tears.

"Don't you worry, mi niña; it's a shame, but more will come. All you have to do is to hold on, and get better."

"It hurts…"

"I know, I know," she said softly, tapping her hand. "It will pass soon."

Victoria closed her eyes, riding the wave of pain as best she could, comforted by the older woman, hoping Diego would return soon with help.

Diego rushed into the cabin shortly after, but Victoria didn't notice. For his worried frown, it looked like he hadn't found a doctor, so Doña Margarita didn't ask.

Without a word, Diego reached for his large trunk and rummaged through the contents, frantically looking for something. When Doña Margarita saw the black hat, she thought it was odd he was carrying such item in his luggage, as it didn't match any of his refined outfits. Then she got even more surprised when she spotted the rest of the black clothes, the boots, and the most awkward items of all: a whip and a sword.

Why does he carry all those things in there? Oh, my God! Could he be…?

Diego lifted his worried eyes then, catching her surprised look. Upset, he looked at the black items scattered all over the cabin floor, realizing of his mistake too late. He cursed under his breath before he looked at Doña Margarita again, directly in the eye.

"It's a costume, for a party we will attend at Madrid," he said in a very low voice, with a pleading glint in his blue eyes, begging for her discretion.

"I see," Doña Margarita said, keeping her real thoughts to herself, because that outfit looked suspiciously similar to the one a famous outlaw wore in Los Angeles. Or so she had heard.

Diego finally found what he was looking for, then kissed Victoria's forehead before he left again.

"Hold on, mi amor. Everything is going to be fine, don't worry."

ZZZ

Victoria was sad. Very sad. But at the same time, she felt relieved. And guilty. Extremely guilty. What kind of a mother would be relieved at losing her baby? A damaged one, that kind. She could burn in hell, but she felt almost "happy" that baby would never be born, because then she would not agonize about who was the real father. But Diego looked so worried, so affected, and so angry at himself, it hurt. And her abdomen hurt. A lot. And she felt so tired all of a sudden, all she wanted to do was to fall asleep and never wake up again.

When Diego kissed her forehead, she opened her eyes, surprised, because she hadn't noticed he had returned, lost in her inner world of pain and shame.

"Hold on, mi amor. Everything is going to be fine, don't worry."

Before she could reply, Diego was gone.

Doña Margarita was still holding her hand, but then she let go of it, looking confused.

"What's wrong?" Victoria asked. The older woman didn't reply, mesmerized by the items scattered all over the floor.

When Victoria spotted Zorro's outfit, she momentarily forgot about her pain, deeply upset.

"No, not that. Not again... He promised me!"

"Is he really who I think he is?" Doña Margarita whispered. "He said that outfit is for a costume party, but…"

"I can't believe it! I'm going to kill him!" Victoria cried, but right then, she winced in pain again, closing her eyes, out of breath.

"Calm down, please, mi niña, don't make matters worse. I'm sure you'll let me know what's going on when you feel better," Doña Margarita said, collecting Zorro's items to hide them back at the bottom of the trunk, covered by Diego's clothes.

ZZZ

Diego had finally remembered something he could use to help Victoria: an old remedy made with yarrow and black cohosh. With the hope it would help to stop the bleeding, he prepared the mix as fast as he could in the ship's kitchen, while beating himself up for being so careless, revealing his secret identity by accident, like a fool.

When he returned to his cabin, he found that Doña Margarita had placed Zorro's clothes and weapons back in the trunk, out of sight.

"Thank you," he said, appreciating the gesture. Which was a very good idea, because right then, the contramaestre Almeida knocked on the door, and he could have seen Zorro's gear.

"Señor De la Vega, I'm very sorry, but I can't find anybody onboard with enough medical knowledge to help your wife. I'm not a doctor either, but the captain ordered me to assist you. How can I help you?"

"More clean towels would be great, thank you," Diego said.

"Towels. No problem. Anything else?"

"No, thank you. If there is no doctor available aboard, I think I'll manage on my own. Thanks for your offer, nonetheless."

After Almeida left, Diego offered the herbal tea to Victoria. She was still in a lot of pain, and bleeding profusely, but now she looked so angry, it was scary.

"You promised me! What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm so sorry. I'll tell you in a moment, but first, drink this, please."

As she drunk the tea, Doña Margarita stood up.

"I think I'll retire to my cabin for now," she said. "You should talk about this on your own."

"Thank you for your help, Doña Margarita," Diego said.

After she left, Victoria spat the word burning her tongue.

"Zorro? Seriously? What for?"

"I'm not dressing as Zorro now, don't be silly. I was only looking for the yarrow leaves. They were in another box, right at the bottom on the trunk, so I got some of my stuff out of the way to find them."

"How can you be so careless? Now she knows you are Zorro!"

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That's not like you," she said, handing back the empty cup, curbing her anger because he looked so vulnerable and sorry, and genuinely worried about her.

"I'm so worried about you. And I'm so sorry this is happening," he said, taking her hands in his. "Please, forgive me. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken you on this kind of long voyage."

"How can this be your fault, Diego? Why do you always have to feel responsible for everything?"

"I should have known such a long journey by sea would be hard for you, and it could cause a miscarriage. We should have stayed home."

"It's not your fault," she said, leaning on him. "And… and… Gosh, I don't know how to say this without feeling awful, but you need to hear it: losing this baby is not the end of the world, Diego. I'm sad, of course I am, but I can't help thinking it may be for the best. Does it make me a horrible person?"

Diego shook his head, still unwilling to confess he had similar feelings.

"No, of course not."

"I would have always wondered if this child was yours of not. Wouldn't you?"

"I would like to say it would not have bothered me at all, but I guess…"

Diego paused to take in a deep breath, embarrassed.

"I guess I would have wondered too. I'm sorry, I think you're right. It's for the best."

They embraced then, seeking each other's comfort, until Diego leaned to rest her back on the pillows.

"Don't worry about that, querida. The most important thing right now, is to get you through this. Rest, please, and let the tea work its magic to stop the bleeding."

He changed the blood-soaked towels, hoping the haemorrhage would stop soon.

"It wasn't a good idea to board a ship while you were pregnant, and I'll never forget myself for putting you at risk. However, on the upside, you should feel less seasick from now on until we reach El Callao."

"Yes, I hope so," she said, with a half-smile. "Lie here with me, please."

Diego got in bed with her, spooning at her back, holding onto her aching abdomen with a protective hand.

"I'm so sorry, mi amor," he whispered on her ear. "We'll wait, and we'll try again in a few months, if you want."

"Te quiero."

"I love you too. Always."

ZZZ

Under strong winds, that night the sea got rougher than ever before during their passage. At the bridge, on sea watch from 8pm until midnight, Ulloa tried hard to minimize the way the ship was swaying, riding the huge waves at the helm himself, getting constantly sprayed by the large breakers. But as much as he tried, he couldn't help it: in those harsh conditions, it would be hell for the passengers at their cabins. Especially for Victoria de la Vega. And nobody onboard could help her.

While steering the ship, he prayed she would survive, as did Diego and Doña Margarita. And God listened to those prayers, because after a long night under her husband's care, in the morning she was feeling better, no longer bleeding so much, and the cramps were not so painful.

ZZZ

A few days went by, and with Diego's help, Victoria recovered from the miscarriage quite quickly, healing physically and also emotionally, thanks to his understanding and the special circumstances of that pregnancy. During that time, Doña Margarita offered her support, and had the good sense of never asking about the black items she saw in Diego's trunk. Soon, the Santa Eulalia arrived at El Callao, one day before schedule, which meant the passengers could get off the ship and enjoy an extra day in Lima, visiting the city.

"I'm so glad you are feeling better," Diego said as they strolled along the old, beautiful, colonial buildings, "but… should we stay here, as we agreed before, or should we carry on? Or do you want to return to California?"

"No. I think we should continue. I feel much better now."

"Are you sure? Because we still have to navigate around Cape Horn."

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm out of danger now, and I know how much you wish to see your aunt Elena at Madrid."

"Yes, I do. I want to show her Esteban's letter, and help her with that issue… You know, with the children."

"See? We have to continue then. Don't worry, I'll be alright."

"Gracias, querida."

Diego kissed her head, thinking one more time he didn't deserve her.

ZZZ

The Santa Eulalia continued travelling south, and after a few weeks, they stopped at the Chilean port of Valparaiso. There, the crew heard unsettling news at the port's taverns: there was a new pirate operating at the Atlantic Ocean. His name was Benito de Soto.

"La Burla Negra, that's how that maniac calls his ship now," Almeida said, back at the bridge of the Santa Eulalia. "And he is thirsty for blood!"

Every sailor on board had heard the story: De Soto was a young man from the north of Spain, an officer on board of the slave ship "El Defensor de San Pedro". After a mutiny, he had got control of the ship, which he had painted black, and now he used it to plunder other vessels under a new name: "The Black Joke" (La Burla Negra).

Only a few victims of his first piracy act were lucky enough to survive that attack and live to tell the tale, which had spread like wildfire. Now all the crews of all the vessels doing the Atlantic routes would share the juicy story, which grew bigger and bigger on each account: Benito de Soto was a soulless butcher who raped and killed most of his victims, had already attacked seven ships, and the number kept growing. And, unfortunately, although De Soto vented his anger primarily on the British, the Spanish ships were not safe either, as his fellow countryman had already attacked American, English, Portuguese and Spanish vessels. For De Soto, without a Spanish Patente de Corso, any large vessel with sails to the wind would do as prey, whatever their flag.

"Please, refrain from talking about this issue onboard," Captain Ulloa said on entering the bridge, catching Almeida's last words. "I don't want the passengers hearing that story and panic, because chances are, we will never encounter that son of a bitch. So, stop the idle gossiping, and go back to work!"

"Yes, Sir, but maybe we should practice evasive manoeuvres and try the cannons before we reach the Atlantic," Almeida said. "I can't remember the last time we did that. They may not even be in working order, Sir!"

"We'll see about that. In the meantime, work in tune with the sobrecargo Rodríguez, because I want this ship perfectly balanced with the new cargo on board. A few days ago, under the strong winds, she listed badly to starboard. Get the men rearranging the ballast as needed right now, so we can set sail at dawn, and forget about that pirate! Is that clear?"

"Sí, mi capitán!" Almeida said, leaving the bridge to call all the sailors on duty below deck to relocate the heavy loads.

"What do you think, Ojeda?" Ulloa asked the Chief Officer and second in command when they were left alone at the bridge. "Should we worry?"

"It doesn't look good, Captain. Almeida is right: we should prepare for an attack, just in case."

¡Maldita sea mi estampa! Ulloa thought. He didn't want to admit it, but the news had unsettled him greatly, and he could easily fall into another spiral of compulsive behaviour just to avoid the bad luck of encountering that pirate.

ZZZZZ

A.N – Yes, Benito de Soto. A real nasty piece, that one. The last of the Atlantic pirates, and the cruellest of them all. (Google him, just for kicks. Some say the name "La Burla Negra" may have inspired the name of Captain Sparrow's "Black Pearl" (La Perla Negra), but others say the name changing of the pirate ship could have been a myth, anyway).

After I came across that pirate name a while ago, I couldn't reject that very annoying plot bunny pestering me: De Soto. A real pirate in 1828. So fitting for NWZ, with that name, and so close in time… and he could be a relative of our nasty alcalde!

How can I not use him for this story? Impossible to avoid, sorry. And that is the reason why our beloved couple are taking so long to reach Spain, in yet another tangent of the plot. But hey, with months of sea travel to reach their destination, anything could happen for the De la Vegas, even miscarriages and pirates! Yeah, why not?