Chapter 97 – What's the worst that can happen?

On its way to Cape Horn, the Santa Eulalia continued making good progress day by day, going faster than ever before when the crew practiced evasive drills at full sail, using all the available canvas, even the small moonrakers at the top that hardly ever got raised.

Diego had noticed the crew looking edgy since they left Valparaiso, and quite often he had found the sailors talking in small groups, quickly stopping their secretive conversations whenever he got too close and within hearing distance. He couldn't claim the crew members were slacking before, not at all, but now they all looked suspiciously keen to make that ship fly faster than the wind, heeling over the South Pacific cold waters while tacking hastily as if chased by an invisible ghost.

Intrigued, the next time Diego spotted the captain having a break on his own at the foredeck, arms resting on the gunwale, lost in thought while smoking his pipe, he approached him for a chat, as he had done so many times before.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Evenin', De la Vega," Ulloa said, still looking at the deep blue waters, not turning to look at him. Diego also leaned to rest his arms on the gunwale in a relaxed manner, by his side. "How's your lovely wife today? You left her back at your cabin?"

"She's playing cards with Doña Margarita at the dining room. She's feeling much better now, thank you."

"Good. We got fair weather today, with favourable wind and a calmed sea. The ship won't pitch so much as during the last few days, so your wife shouldn't feel as seasick now. She should make the most of it while it lasts, though."

"Yes, I noticed your crew used all the sails this morning, even the smaller, top ones. The ship cruised pretty fast with them; I was impressed."

"Yes. She managed top speed today downwind," Ulloa said with one of his rare smiles, obviously proud of his ship, while gently caressing the top edge as a man in love would stroke his woman.

"Can I ask you something, Captain?"

"Sure."

"It looks like you are preparing the crew, as if training for something. Your men look worried, and so do you. Can you tell me what's the matter?"

Ulloa stood tall then, away from the gunwale, turning to look at Diego in the eye while slowly puffing smoke from his pipe.

"You are too clever for your own good, De la Vega."

"To me, it looks like you are practicing evasive manoeuvres. Can you tell me why?"

"As I said: too clever for your own good. You shouldn't think so much."

"You can trust me, Captain. Whatever it is, I won't tell anyone, but if a threatening situation is looming, I would like to know, please."

The captain kept looking at him intently, as if measuring the value of his word. In the end, he rested his elbows back on the gunwale, facing the vast ocean as he did before. He puffed his pipe a couple of times, and then he said a single word:

"Pirates."

"Pirates? Come on, you can't be serious. That's ridiculous! You said so the other night during dinner: piracy is on its way out."

"I'm not talking about the Caribbean pirates. Apparently, there is a new blood thirsty degenerate attacking vessels in the South Atlantic as we speak. We are practicing evasive actions at top speed, as you so cleverly noticed, in the odd chance we encounter that pirate ship. But please, don't say anything to the rest of the passengers, because I don't want them to worry and panic unnecessarily. As I said, we would be very unlucky to run across that pirate De Soto."

"De Soto?"

"Yes, that's his name. Benito de Soto. Why? Do you know him?"

"No, but I know someone with that surname. I wonder if they are related."

"I don't know any De Sotos, and I certainly don't wish to meet that one," Ulloa said, emptying the burnt remains of the tobacco in his pipe downwind. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go back to work."

"Back to the bridge?"

"Yes."

"Walking around the main mast twice?"

Ulloa looked at Diego again, narrowing his eyes, deeply annoyed.

"As many times as I see fit, yes."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you, but I've seen how you waste so much time and effort on these compulsive rituals, and I would like to help you. Because you realize there's no need to do that, don't you? It's all a superstition."

"What I do or don't do is none of your business, Señor."

"Of course, but… It's only… Look, I just want to help you, that's all."

"Maybe, but that's not the right way to do so. Excuse me."

Ulloa left, walking briskly back to the bridge. Half way there, when he got near the main mast, he stopped.

Come on, keep walking… Diego thought, hopeful. But, after only a couple of seconds hesitating, that man did what he always did: walk around the mast twice anticlockwise while avoiding to meet Diego's gaze.

ZZZ

That late afternoon, Victoria and her friend enjoyed playing cards at one of the tables in the dining area. Doña Margarita was the best player, and she was winning at most of the games they played. At the final rounds of a Brisca game, she got to the issue she had been itching to ask for weeks.

"So, are you ever going to tell me about that black outfit your husband carries in his trunk?"

Victoria threw a new card, avoiding the question.

"I think you'll win again… Gosh, you're so good at this!"

"Of course I'll win, if you keep losing your kings like that," Doña Margarita said, keeping that hand by using a three. She threw another card, getting her head closer to Victoria's, to whisper in a low voice: "Come on, tell me: is he Zorro? There is no other possible explanation, so don't be afraid: your secret is safe with me."

"I can't avoid this conversation any longer, can I?" Victoria said, also in a low voice, placing her last card on the table.

"No, you can't," the older woman said, laughing, collecting all the cards when they finished, not bothering to count her points, as it was so evident she had won. "Please, don't be shy and tell me the whole, juicy story."

"All right, all right… Well, if you must know: yes, he is. Happy now?"

"Is that all you are going to tell me? Vamos, mi niña, I want details!"

"What kind of details? What do you want to know?"

"For starters, I can't understand how a man so polite and sweet can be a rough criminal with a price on his head. I can't get my head around that."

"Zorro is not a criminal! He's a paladin for Justice, always helping people in need!"

"It's great to see you're so passionate about your husband, showing such devotion, but that's not what I have heard, my dear."

"You live too far away from Los Angeles, so I guess the information you have about Zorro is quite biased and corrupted."

"Are you running away now? Is this a grand escape from the law?"

"Not at all. This is our honeymoon. The authorities don't know Diego is Zorro; hardly anybody knows his secret identity, actually, and please: it has to stay that way."

"Sure. I won't tell a soul, don't worry."

"We should have got married ages ago, but that blooming black mask has always been in the way, an obstacle in our relationship. For several years, I didn't even know who was the man hiding under it, because he was so secretive. Can you believe it?"

"Really? That must have been so difficult for you, not knowing who he was."

"Yes. Extremely. So, with the arrival of a new alcalde, it was our chance to get married and put some distance before he could figure it out, because marrying Diego when I was supposed to be madly in love with Zorro was a bit unexpected, for everybody. Besides, Diego got injured so many times during the past few months, he really needed a break from being a hero, and also get some rest away from the action. Naturally, I told him not to bring that outfit with him, but he did, sneaking it inside that trunk... God, he can be so irritating sometimes!"

"Men! What can we do about them, ah? They have a nonsensical mind of their own."

They laughed then, having a good time while Victoria confided in another, understanding female for the first time since she had met Zorro, sharing all her fears, the difficulties, all the unfulfilled expectations she had faced over the years, and also some of the joys. The kind of conversation that was so necessary for her aching, troubled soul.

However, she didn't confess everything she kept in her heart. One of the few things she didn't share was the rape and the unwanted pregnancy, because that was too much to bear.

"So, the son of Alejandro de la Vega, my childhood infatuation, is Zorro… Who would have thought? Oh, my… I could have been the acclaimed mother of a popular hero!"

Victoria laughed. That woman was so much fun!

"You know what? You should visit us at the hacienda De la Vega someday, and maybe conquer my father-in-law's heart. After all, he's been a widower for so long, I'm sure he would love to meet you again."

"Imagine that: I could become your mother-in-law!" Doña Margarita said, in stitches. "Oh, dear child, thank you very much for your invitation. It would be nice, but I have to confess: if I have to travel again for months in a stinking ship like this one to return to America, he'll have to come to Spain instead!"

They laughed again, so much and so hard another passenger thought they had too much sherry.

ZZZ

The air grew colder as the ship ventured further south, and wearing thick, winter coats outside became necessary. Soon it was so cold, they started to encounter icebergs drifting their way.

One morning, when most passengers were outside, on deck, enjoying a bit of fresh air in that unusually calm, sunny day, they spotted the first block of ice. Diego pointed it out to Victoria and Doña Margarita.

"Look, an iceberg. We must be quite close to the Antarctic Circle now."

"That's so big," Doña Margarita said, impressed. "It's like a swimming mountain covered in snow!"

"Yes, it looks huge, but the ice is much larger below the surface than what you can see, actually," Diego explained, always the scientific man.

The ship had steered well away from that massive chunk of ice, but when later on Ulloa spotted an incoming second iceberg with his spyglass, still far away in the distance, he called his men into action.

"Ojeda, prepare the men for a round against that ice."

"Both cannons, Sir?"

"Yes, at my order. Port side. And aim high, as if trying to dismast the enemy."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Contramaestre!" Ojeda cried, calling Almeida to prepare the gunners.

The Santa Eulalia was a merchant ship, but still had two cannons a side for self-defence, guns that Ulloa hardly ever had to use. As Almeida said, he couldn't even remember the last time they got fired.

"Steady to round that iceberg, port side," he ordered the helmsman. "Leave enough room, but don't stray too far."

"Aye, aye, Sir!"

The gunners hurried to open the gunports, then set and prepared the cannons, loading them with gunpowder and a heavy cannonball.

The second officer urged the passengers to stay away from the port side, but still allowed them to stay on deck, watching the manoeuvres from a distance.

"Steady…" Ulloa ordered the helmsman as they approached the iceberg, waiting for the right moment. "FIRE!"

"Fire!" Ojeda repeated below the bridge, at the gundeck.

The sound of the cannon blasts startled the passengers, who witnessed how the heavy iron balls hit the ice at great speed, breaking a large chunk away from its surface but hardly making a dent on the frozen wall as a whole, as if the huge mass of ice had swallowed them.

"Reload!" Ulloa cried while the passengers clapped enthusiastically, greatly entertained with the unexpected show.

The gunners hurried to follow orders, but by the time they had managed to get the cannons ready to fire again, the ship had already passed the iceberg, leaving it behind.

"I'm sorry, Sir. We missed the target for the second round," the Chief Officer said when he returned to the bridge.

"I knew they would, but… Goddammit, Ojeda, they have to work faster! Have Almeida training them loading and unloading the cannons until they can do it as fast as the best gunners in the Armada!"

"Sí, mi capitán!"

"But first, let's try the starboard side. Turn around, 180 degrees," he ordered to the helmsman. "Go chase that beast!"

"Aye, aye, Captain. Turning to starboard," the sailor said, turning the wheel slowly.

The passengers enjoyed another round of firing power, when two cannonballs hit the iceberg again from the other side, and even a third one when the ship turned around one more time for a last pass, before they carried on travelling south.

"Why are they doing this? Why are they using the cannons now, wasting ammunition as if we are at war?" Victoria asked, quite puzzled when the sailors fired for the third time.

"I don't know," Diego lied. "Probably for practice, or maintenance. Come on ladies, aren't you cold? Should we go back inside? It's becoming quite windy again."

As they left the main deck, on the way to their cabin at the forecastle, Diego turned to look at the captain, who acknowledged him with a slight nod. For whatever reason, he didn't look happy.

ZZZ

"So, how was that firing exercise?" Diego asked the captain the next day, at the exact same spot at the foredeck, during the captain's break. "You didn't look completely satisfied by the results."

"The men are too slow. Don't get me wrong, they did a good job, under the circumstances and their lack of experience and practice, but we wouldn't stand a chance in battle against highly trained gunners, like the ones I worked with at the Spanish Armada, or the damn English monkeys at the blooming Royal Navy."

"But we are talking about facing pirates here, not a professional, military trained crew."

"It doesn't matter how inept the pirates might be with their guns. I believe the Burla Negra carries 8 to 10 cannons a side, while the Santa Eulalia only carries two. If they attack, they won't need to be too accurate to potentially cause much more damage to us than we could do to them."

"At least you have experienced the glory of naval battles, while they lack the knowledge and the discipline."

"There is no glory in battle, De la Vega. There is only cruelty, destruction, death, and maimed bodies. I saw my fair share of bloody horror when I served for 12 years, and I don't want to experience it ever again, thanks."

"But you survived…"

"And with all my limbs intact, yes, which was kind of a miracle," Ulloa said, dead serious, puffing more smoke while recalling the atrocities he didn't want to remember. "And I intend to keep them that way."

They kept silent for a while, until Diego asked the next question, changing the subject.

"How far are we from Cape Horn now?"

"Nearly there, about six days. The wind is already picking up, so brace for it."

Ulloa finished his pipe, and as he usually did, he tapped it on the gunwale to empty the ashes downwind.

"Back to the bridge?"

Ulloa glared at Diego but didn't say anything else, walking away.

"Try it. Don't be afraid," Diego said. "What's the worst that can happen?"

The captain reached the main mast, and the same as he did before, he stopped there, hesitating. But this time, after a much longer pause, he kept walking straight.

Yes! Diego thought, ecstatic, unaware that simple gesture would be the first step causing a downward spiralling of bad luck for that man.

ZZZ

Don Diego de la Vega could be a very irritating man, but he was right. Deep down, Ulloa knew he should stop his string of petty rituals at some point, and he wanted to do it, but he always procrastinated until the next time, forever engaging in the futile activities one last time, just in case.

That day, as he approached the main mast, he could feel Diego's eyes on him.

"What's the worst that can happen?" Ulloa heard him say as he stopped by the mast.

Anything. Anything bad. Like encountering that bloody pirate. Like capsizing while doubling the Horn. Like getting struck by lightning in a storm, or getting washed away by a huge wave. Like… Well, anything could happen! Even to get eaten by the mythical kraken.

However, from a rational point of view, if that kind of shit should happen to him, it was meant to happen, no matter how many times he walked around that mast. And he was fed up of walking around it like an idiot.

Sod it, Ulloa thought in the end, and he carried on walking, not looking back.

That unusual move felt so liberating, he reached the bridge with a grin. There, he received a look of approval from his Chief Officer.

"You did it, Sir!"

"You too, Ojeda? Jesus Christ… Don't you have anything better to do than watching me fighting my giants like Don Quixote?"

"Yes, Sir! I mean… No, Sir!" Ojeda said, unable to keep a straight face.

"Well then, think of something!" Ulloa cried, pretending to be angry, but in the end, he also had to smile.

Maybe I should thank that meddler busybody somehow…

ZZZ

Someone knocked on the door at cabin 12. When Diego opened it, he found the boatswain Almeida holding a basket containing fresh fruit and a bottle of Jerez.

"Compliments from the captain. "For the push", he said, whatever that means."

"Nice. Muchas gracias."

"What's that, "the push"?" Victoria said after the sailor left and Diego closed the door. "What have you done?"

"I helped him a bit overcoming his superstitions. He is a free man now."

"And what are you going to do if he gets bad luck? To him, it will be your fault."

"There's no such thing as bad luck, not the way he believes in it."

"I hope this doesn't backfire, you know?"

"Don't worry. It won't," Diego said, taking a bite from one of the red apples in the basket. "Mmmm… This is delicious! Try one."

"How can you eat so much, the way the ship is swaying?"

Diego shrugged his shoulders, taking another bite. After damaging his inner ear, now healed, he hadn't felt so dizzy since then, not even at sea.

"I can prepare more anti-sickness remedy for you if you want some."

"Hurry up then, please, because I'm going to be sick again!" she said, heading for the bucket.

ZZZ

Six days later, the Santa Eulalia finally reached Cape Horn in gale wind conditions. Far from ideal, but nothing out of the ordinary for that treacherous passage at that time of the year. However, Captain Ulloa never had it so bad before, and he didn't like it, making him wonder if it would have been easier facing a hurricane at the Caribbean Sea.

The cold wind was blowing so hard —close to 50 knots— and the sea was so rough, with huge waves all around them, the previous day the captain had ordered all the passengers to stay in their cabins, not to venture out on deck until further notice.

"Everybody on deck must use a lifeline!" Ulloa ordered that morning, shouting to be heard over the roaring wind. "I don't want to lose any man overboard today!"

Before attempting the passage, the crew had already lowered most of the sails, keeping only a storm jib and reefed, trimmed top sails. With the new order, all the sailors and officers on deck got a rope tied to their waist, and had it secured to the nearest anchor point, the closest to their positions. The helmsman tied himself short, to the steering wheel base, ready to stay put steering no matter what, or they could end up drifting towards the rocky, dangerous shore if the ship was left unmanned.

The Santa Eulalia rolled wildly from side to side, sprayed by the larger waves, some close to 10 meters tall. For the passengers, locked inside their dark cabins, it was a nightmare. Everybody used lee cloths, the handy section of canvas designed to keep people from falling off their bunks when rolling around in rough seas, praying to God the ordeal would be over soon.

Outside, it was even worse. Despite the violent westerly wind, the ship made only slow progress, lost in a white sea of foamy, stirred waters. The huge waves kept breaking against the ship, spraying the men on deck constantly, making their jobs even more difficult to execute in that utterly miserable day, as the salty water ran in wild rivers all over the deck surface, ultimately drained by the scuppers. The constant strain on the sails by the strong winds put extra pressure on the masts, the stays, and the whole rigging, and some ropes and cables became loose, needing to be tighten up, a difficult task to keep up with in those conditions. However, no matter how bad the situation looked for hours, it could always get worse.

"Rogue wave!" Ulloa shouted from the bridge when he saw a massive wall of water, over 15 meters tall, coming their way.

For a moment, he could not believe his eyes. It was a wave much taller than the surrounding ones, the kind of wave most seamen doubted they could even exist, because not many sailors had survived one of them to tell the story, and nobody believed them when they did, anyway, thinking they had exaggerated the size of those monsters.

"Hard to starboard!" Ulloa ordered the helmsman, panicking, but no matter how fast that man tried to veer, the battered Santa Eulalia didn't respond in time.

The rogue wave hit the port side and washed over the whole ship. The force of the collision cracked the foremast, and the top portion came crashing down on deck, with the stays, halyards and sails entangling with the mainmast rigging.

The men tried to hold onto something, but most got blown away with the impact, dragged by the water, crashing on the starboard rail as the ship tilted dangerously close to the water, nearly capsizing. A couple of them got trapped under the fallen mast.

Ulloa could not believe his bad luck. Or maybe he could, because during the last six days, he hadn't abided by any of his compulsive rituals to keep the bad luck at bay. But now, witnessing that disaster while hanging from a rope from the bridge, it was too late to regret it.

While the ship slowly swayed itself upright again, Ulloa cut his rope to get free, crashing onto the mid-deck, and quickly got back on his feet to help the sailors trapped under the broken portion of the foremast. With Almeida's help, they managed to get those men free. One of them was only badly bruised, but the other one was in shock, with a broken leg and cracked ribs.

"Get help to get him into the cockpit!" Ulloa cried while looking for another rope to use as a lifeline, because more waves kept breaking onto the damaged ship and he wasn't secured to it anymore. He looked back at the bridge, and with great relief he saw that the helmsman was still on his feet, fighting to steer the Santa Eulalia away from the treacherous rocky shore, continuing straight ahead to complete the passage if at all possible due to the damage sustained, relying mostly on the jib.

Ulloa secured the knot on his new lifeline just in time to endure another large wave washing down the ship. The boatswain, the captain, and the battered sailor held onto the rail, but the other badly injured man lacked the strength and got washed away, over the edge.

"Man overboard!" Almeida cried, but the helmsman didn't hear him and didn't attempt to stop the ship, concentrated as he was on riding the waves ahead.

Ulloa didn't stop to think, and reacted on pure instinct. He knew he couldn't ask the boatswain to risk his life to help that unfortunate sailor, who with a broken leg would not stand a chance keeping his head over the turbulent, freezing waters while they rescued him, and the ship would soon be too far away from the fallen man. With no time to lose, Ulloa jumped overboard to save him.

"Captain! No!" Almeida cried, but it was too late. He was already gone.

ZZZZZ