(1/3) Go Saddle the Sea (22 page)

And he turned sharp on his heel and limped away.

I stood on one spot with my knuckles clenched, staring like a fool, for some few minutes after he went off. My heart was beating rat-a-tat, my throat was tightened up with anger, as it had not been since I left Villaverde. If there had been a stone at hand, I believe I could have hurled it after him! But there was not, for there I was on the wide, paved quayside with not a soul about, and the mule tugging impatiently against the rein over my arm, as if to say, "What
is
all this?"

In the end her tugging reminded me that—as Sam had pointed out—I could not lead her through the network of mooring ropes and bollards to find a ship for myself—as had been my first angry intention.

But I thought: I am not a child! Why should he treat me like one? I have made my own way as far as this—I can very well find my own ship! I will take the letter to the convent directly; then leave the mule in the monastery stable; then I will come back here and
arrange for my own passage to England. I will show Sam that I don't need him to see after my affairs.

Accordingly, I was turning away from the quayside to take the eastward road to Bilbao, beside which, Father Ignacio had said, the convent was situated, when I heard myself accosted by a soft voice that said:

"The young señor wishes to travel to England?"

I was somewhat startled, for I had thought that no one was at hand.

Then I saw a small man rise up from behind a great coil of rope, where he had been seated. He was a skinny, weather-beaten, and shriveled-looking little monkey of a fellow who wore a red handkerchief rolled round his head, a long cloak, much torn and patched, sandals on his bare dirty feet, and a kind of tattered tinsel waistcoat under the cloak.

He did not speak in Spanish, but in a mixture of the Basque language and French. Since Bernie had some Basque blood (all the best cooks come from the Basque country), I had learned some of the language and could just make out what he meant.

I said, "Why, yes, I do, señor. Do you know of a ship that is sailing to England? I cannot pay a large fare, however—I have very little money."

This I said out of a sense of caution, not wishing to sound too eager.

"
Errequina!
That matters little. If a ship sails, she sails. Some friends of mine may be putting out for England and Ireland tonight. On a fine ship, a grand ship, a splendid ship! The young gentleman would glide across the Gulf of Gascony like a feather on a gull's wing! It would cost him no more than twenty dollars."

I had saved more than that, from the profits of our music-making at Llanes. However, I haggled and said, "I can pay no more than twelve."

"Fifteen! For fifteen we carry the young lordship in as much comfort as the King of the Indies!"

"Very well. What is the name of your friends' ship?"

"May it please your honor, she is called the
Guipuzcoa.
"

"And where can I find her?"

"My young master, she is not in port yet. She will dock this afternoon, if it please God, will take on water and provisions, and will leave on the night tide."

"And where will she berth, while she is here?"

The small man looked around him warily. There was something about his tattered and furtive appearance—and also about the exceedingly swift arrival and departure of the ship—which led me to believe that his friends must be smugglers; a considerable wine- and brandy-smuggling trade went on, I knew, between the Basque ports and England. I guessed that was why the passenger fee was so low, since there might be some hazard to the crossing, if the ship was pursued by Revenue boats. But the fee suited my purse, and the risk certainly troubled me not at all; it would be an added adventure, in fact.

The small man's answer to my question confirmed
my certainty that his friends were engaged in running contraband goods.

"The
Guipuzcoa
will berth where she can, my young señor. Probably, since she remains at Santander so short a time, she will not come into the harbor at all, but will anchor out yonder by the island."

He pointed to a rocky height of land by the western arm of the bay; I had taken it for a headland.

"How could I get myself out there? And how shall I know if your friends' ship has arrived?"

"Why, as to that, if the young lordship would condescend to meet me here later today, I would be able to take him out to the island, if the
Guipuzcoa
has docked."

"Very well. At what time?"

He scanned the sky, and then the harbor mouth, with his narrow, creased black eyes.

"Just at the hour of dusk. When a black thread can no longer be distinguished from a white one."

"
Bueno!
I will see you here at dusk."

He nodded, and slipped rapidly away, scurrying like a lizard into the crack between two tall warehouses.

Feeling highly delighted with myself, in that I had successfully negotiated something that Sam had seemed to believe might prove so troublesome, I looked about, hoping that I might see his distant figure. But of course he was long gone out of sight.

Accordingly, I scrambled onto the mule's back and kicked my heels into her sides, turning her head
toward Bilbao. Only fifteen dollars! Sam had expected that I might have to pay quite twice as much.

I chuckled, imagining his face of astonishment when I told him that the matter was all arranged, and so easily.

After five minutes' ride along the Bilbao road, the town was mostly behind me; I had a rocky hill on my right and some marshes on my left, with great banks of feather-headed rushes on either side of the road, pale gold like the fur on old Gato's underbelly.

A heavy sadness came over me, as I remembered my old cat—how very far away he seemed! Over the mountains and the valleys, past the towns and the estuaries. And would soon be farther still.

Suddenly I felt ashamed and angry with myself that I had parted from Sam in such a mood of resentment. He meant well, I was now sure of that. Very probably—it now struck me—he had wanted me out of the way while he bargained for a lower passage fee, which, doubtless, knowing the ways of the sea, he believed he would be able to secure more easily than I should.

Well—I decided—the moment I see him I will tell him that I am sorry for my anger. But still, he should have told me that was his intention! It is partly his fault for treating me as a child.

Now, beyond the bowing golden heads of the rushes, I perceived two clusters of gray buildings, on either side of the road, which I guessed must be the monastery and the convent, each surrounded by a
high stone wall, each with an arched gateway and a barred gate.

The monastery was somewhat bigger, and had a tower on its chapel. Looking through the gate, I could see two brown-robed brothers talking inside. So I knocked, and presented Father Ignacios note to the porter, who told me that the prior was at present in the town on business, but that I might in the meantime take my mule to the stable, and would be given supper and a bed in the guest house at any hour after eight in the evening.

I thought of explaining that I might not need their supper and bed, if the
Guipuzcoa
arrived as expected—but since I was not certain of that yet, I resolved not to mention the possibility.

Meanwhile I saw to the stablirig of the mule, gave her a feed and a drink, then walked back around the cloister and out through the front gate to visit the convent.

This, I saw at once, was much smaller and shabbier, and had fewer inmates than the monastery. Indeed there was no portress at all, so, after my knock had gone unanswered, I made bold to walk through the open gate and past the empty lodge into a paneled parlor, which had a tiled floor and smelled freshly of beeswax, but was also empty. In one wall there was a barred grille, but no one behind it.

I called out, "Is anybody there?" but received no reply.

Walking out again, into a small herb garden with
apple trees, which occupied the central square, I hesitated outside another doorway, encouraged to do so by a warm smell of baking which came from it.

"Is that you, Sister Dolores?" called a voice. "Fetch me a straw from the broom, will you?"

This request instantly transported me back to Bernie's cozy red kitchen, full of the smell of baking cakes. How many times had I heard Bernie call to me, or Pedro, or whoever happened to be at hand, "Quick, bring me a straw from the broom, I want to try this cake."

Without thinking, I plucked a dry grass from the herb border and walked inside holding it.

"
Ay, Dios mio,
who are
you?
" exclaimed the same voice in astonishment.

I saw a short, stout nun, with a friendly wrinkled face and a white apron tied over her black robes, who was just lifting what looked like a large butter cake from the oven. At sight of me, she nearly dropped it, but recovered, and placed it on a table. I offered her the straw, and, without a word, she took it from me, wiped it on her apron, and carefully slid its end deep into the middle of the cake. Taking it out again, she peered at it shortsightedly, sniffed it, and then, nodding her head, said with satisfaction, "Very good! Done to a turn! Now tell me, who are
you,
my young sparrow, and how do you come to hop into my kitchen? I suppose you would like a crumb, hmm?"

When she smiled, her face wrinkled up even more,
like a tortilla. She handed me a little pastry cake, sprinkled over with nuts, at the sight and smell of which Asistenta poked her head forth from my jacket and exclaimed, "
Amo, amare, amavi, amatus!
"

"
Ay de mi!
" exclaimed the old nun. "Here's another of them! And I suppose that one wants something, too?"

She handed Asistenta a crust of bread, which the parrot took gravely, stepping out onto the table and holding it with her claw.

I ate my cake, which proved to have marzipan in the middle, and was one of the best I have ever tasted.

"Thank you, Sister," I said, licking my fingers. "You make wonderful cakes! But I didn't come for crumbs—I came with a letter for Sister Anunciata. May I give it to her?"

"Ay—ay—no, that you can't!" the old nun exclaimed. "Sister Anunciata has left us."

"
Left
you?" I said in a fright, wondering if she had died—but the old nun explained.

"She has gone, two days ago, to our house in Madrid, for she had some family business to settle. Now I daresay she will stay on in Madrid, but it is a pity. There was not enough for her to do here, it was too quiet. There are not many of us left, and we are all too old."

"I am sorry she is not here," I said, disconcerted by this news. "If I leave the note, can it be sent to her in Madrid? It is from her stepfather."

"
Oho?
" exclaimed the sister, looking at me curiously. "You have a note for Anunciata from her stepfather?"

"Yes, señora."

"Just a moment, my boy."

She went to an inner doorway and shouted, "Sister Angeles!"

A distant voice replied, "What is it, Sister Benedicta?"

"Could you leave polishing and come here a moment, if you please?"

After a few moments another black-robed sister appeared, even more elderly. She carried a beeswax-smelling cloth, and limped heavily with a stick.

The cook sister said to her, "Sister Angeles, here is a boy who looks like a day-old chicken. He bears a letter to Sister Anunciata from her stepfather."

"Ave Maria! He certainly does look like a day-old chick," said the second old lady, after inspecting me critically. "He
must
be the one!"

"Should we call Sister Superior?"

"No, why wake her? She is sleeping, and she has so much pain and gets so little sleep, poor thing. This must be the right boy!"

"What are you speaking about, señoras?" I asked, greatly mystified.

"Do you have the letter there, child?. The letter for Anunciata?"

"Certainly I do," said I, and passed it to Sister Angeles, who inspected it carefully, nodded her head, and
said, "Very good! This shall be sent to Madrid. Now, my child, we have a letter for you, if you will tell me your name?"

"Of course," said I, even more puzzled. "My name is Felix Brooke. But from whom can you possibly have a letter for me?"

"Why, from the stepfather of Anunciata, to be sure! Wait here a moment, and Sister Benedicta will fetch it."

I waited, in a ferment of curiosity, while stout Sister Benedicta bustled out of the room with a swish of robes and a slap of rope-soled shoes. While she was away, Asistenta, thoughtfully regarding the butter cake, remarked, "Two o'clock!"

A moment later we heard the chime of the monastery clock.

"
Madre de Dios!
" exclaimed Sister Angeles. "Your bird keeps good time! We could use her here! It is a long time since the convent clock slowed down and stopped."

I hardly paid heed to her. I was thinking of that strange, calm, grizzle-bearded man whom I had met in the mountains up above Oviedo, who had invited me to accompany him on his treasure hunt. What had befallen him? I wondered. And why should he write to me? Had I even told him my name? After some thought, I believed that I remembered doing so, while explaining my intention to go to England and search for my father's family.

Perhaps—I thought suddenly, and my heart beat
faster—perhaps he had come across, or had recalled, some clue, relating to my father, which he had taken this means of transmitting to me! And I thought, what a fortunate thing that I had kept my promise to bring his letter to the convent!

Sister Benedicta returned with a dirty folded square of paper, which she handed to me.

"Shall you object if I read it here, señoras?" I asked.

"Not in the least, my child. Sit and read at your ease," said Sister Benedicta, pushing a stool toward me, and she began chopping herbs on a board. So I sat on the stool and read: "To Felix Brooke: From Astorga. It will be a marvel if this reaches you, for I have no money to pay the carriers, a pair of the most surly-looking Maragatos I have ever encountered, and therefore must trust to their good nature. Also, it has been written in snatches, on the way to my trial at Oviedo, from which, almost certainly, I shall be sent to the galleys."