PEG BOY (8 page)

Captain
Alvarez was amazed at Santiago’s studied detachment during the day compared to
his incredible evening passions. He had to admit that there had been no other
boy like Santiago, for looks and performance. Santiago had mastered several
sexual practices that could be of great use if he decided to sell himself. The
fact that he would be off in the wilderness of California meant that many who
would have paid highly for his services, would be deprived of his pleasures.

“You could
find gold easily in San Francisco, Santi. You would not need to go dig for it,
nor would you need to travel far to find it. Truly you possess your own
gold-mine between your legs!”

“Would you pay
for me?”

“I would pay
whatever you asked, and so would many others. You could become...,” but the
Captain thought better of urging the boy to sell himself. Santiago would be
better with his father, and he spoke no more of it.

Days turned
into weeks and each one was filled with excitement. All were kept busy mending
and rebuilding worn and old equipment. The winds grew stronger and sails were
torn. Masts loosened and needed reinforcement. The ships carpenter was never
idle as much needed attention. Santiago was seldom out of his father’s calling.

They were on
deck one afternoon repairing planking that had given way when the First Mate
called out the sighting of the rising hills of Mazatlãn. The mist had lifted
and through the glass Santiago saw the lush vegetation. There were islands close
together separated by narrow channels. High cliffs of scarred, red rock
plummeted steeply into the water and at their base the surf surged constantly
against the walls of rock. Foam ringed the tide line of the palisades. He was
amazed at the serenity of the bluish mountains thick with growth compared with
the hills of his homeland, which were mostly barren.

Each day
brought new wonder as Santiago watched the passing land, seeing lowlands give
way to hills and mountains that rose from the ocean. The air grew colder and
fog often enveloped them by early afternoon. When this occurred duty was
assigned to stand starboard and call through the bullhorn to warm other
approaching ships of their proximity. They had been four weeks at sea and the
winds had carried them slowly northward. Increased sea traffic told them that
they were approaching a port of some importance.

It was the
noise on deck and the sun shining in through the open window that woke
Santiago. He was surprised to find Captain Alvarez already up and out. Santiago
dressed then stopped by the quarters shared by his father and three other men.
Don Emilio was not there. The ship’s cook had prepared breakfast and Santiago
accepted the bowl when he entered the galley.

“Yesterday’s
toil took its toll on you,” the cook commented, eyeing Santiago in a way that
he had noted on several other occasions. “You are the last to get breakfast.
The Captain thinks we may make port this very morning if the winds continue to
be with us. Depends on how things
blow
.”

“Where is he,”
Santiago asked, choosing not to respond the cook’s implication.

“Somewhere on
deck, I am sure of it. Here boy, now go find your Captain as I am sure he is
missing you as much as you miss him.”

As Santiago
climbed the stairs to the deck he could hear the cook still laughing. He found
Captain Alvarez on the poop calling out orders to trim the sails, as they were
close to land and too much sail would send them onto the rocks. The ship hugged
the coastline so that strong winds off shore would not reduce maneuverability.
Santiago saw that the captain had taken notice of him, but his duties prevented
acknowledgment other than a perfunctory nod. Then he heard his father call his
name.

“My God, where
have you been? The sun has been up three hours. You should have been at work by
now!”

“I had a bad
night last night. The Captain told me to sleep in this morning.”

“You still
look weary. Are you feeling better? What is the matter?”

“Nothing
serious. He told me he thought it was indigestion.”

“Work will
take your mind off that. We have much to do. We expect to dock in San Francisco
this day. Come, I need you.”

Father and son
spent the next three hours building pens for the large store of animals that
would be brought back to Mexico on the return voyage. Constant effort soon had
Santiago thinking of nothing but helping his father and doing the work well so
that he would be pleased. Soon they were joking and singing together, and it
was some time before Don Emilio realized some of the songs were such that, some
weeks earlier, the thought of singing them would never had entered his mind.

Time was
forgotten until they heard the shouting. The hatch was thrown open and a
crewman called to them that the famous points of land that marked the doorway
of the gold-laden hills, could be seen a few miles away. On deck, they watched
as the ship sailed swiftly between the two jutting legs of land and indeed the
high hills on each did form a barrier or portal.

The wind had
whipped the water’s surface and whitecaps slammed against the bow as it sailed
the swift current between peninsulas. The sails filled and the ropes and
canvass slapped together loudly like thunder. The added noise of the cheering
crowd all pushing together to get a better view made the event seem like a
battle. Santiago looked about and met Captain Alvarez’s eyes. He turned and
spoke to a crewman nearby, who climbed down to where Santiago and his father
stood.

“The Captain
wants you to join him,” the man shouted above the noise.

Santiago
followed his father. Captain Alvarez extended his hand to both.

“We have
arrived. I wish you both God’s grace. We have made a safe journey and I am
happy it was one with little trouble. Sometimes the passage can be difficult
because of storms. Perhaps this little one was good luck for us?”

The captain tousled
Santiago’s hair and smiled at him.

“We wish to
thank you for your kindness,” Don Emilio held the captain’s hand. “You have
been of great help.”

“And you, to
me!” Captain Alvarez returned the handshake. “Your son is a fine boy and a hard
worker. I am sure he will be of great service to you. May you find your
fortunes!”

Don Emilio
placed his arm around Santiago’s shoulders. “I am proud of my son. We are a
team, right Santiago?’

“Yes father,
we are a team!”

His face
expressed pride at the recognition as his father extolled his virtues.

While Don
Emilio looked in enchantment at the magnificent hills and vessels following
them, Captain Alvarez came closer to Santiago’s ear

“A special
thanks to you. You are a beautiful and gentle boy. You made my journey one of
the most pleasurable ones I have experienced in my many years of sailing.”

The Captain
put an arm around the shoulders of Don Emilio and his son. There had been no
mishaps or serious quarrels, shootings, or stabbings among the crew or
passengers. Only once had he needed to assert his authority with an incident of
a man who had become overly familiar with his insinuation about the Captain and
his “wife”, referring to the cabin-boy. The man had been put off ship when they
had stopped to replenish water at a small port north of Mazatlãn. No one had
died, and all cargo had been delivered undamaged. And there had been the added
pleasure of the boy beside him. Captain Alvarez wondered what would happen to
Santiago after many months in the wilderness, and was happy to have had him in
his prime.

While making
anchor at a long wharf the skies filled with seabirds that seemed to have
captured the excitement of the crowds that lined the shore. Little space was
left to stand and watch the proceedings as the word spread through town that
two ships were anchoring that day. One was the new steamship. Both would be
filled with hopeful aliens who had sold everything to book passage and begin
the quest that, for many, would end in failure and disappointment.

Like Panama,
the harbor was festively decorated with banners and bunting of many colors.
Hundreds collected along the streets and the harbor was filled with many
smaller vessels. Captain Alvarez informed them that the celebration was on the
occasion of the arrival of the
California
, the ship that had opened a
new era in ocean travel. Town officials and the Territorial Governor were
present to officiate. Fireworks and music would fill the air and general
disorder was the norm.

Don Emilio was
to go to Mission Dolores with his son and present himself to Padre Juan Carlos
with a letter from Padre Lipolito that asked for the man and his son to be
given special consideration. Santiago begged to stay in town a little longer so
that they might watch the festivities. Don Emilio agreed. He saw no reason why
they could not call on the priest that evening.

Captain
Alvarez suggested their belongings be left on board until ready to go to the
mission. He could not free himself immediately. The ship would need to be
inspected by customs agents and the ship’s manifest, verified. These details
would detain him but he told them he would meet them later and gave them
directions to a small tavern and eatery frequented by a Spanish clientele.
There, he promised them dinner and a tour of the town as part of the
celebration.

With
Santiago’s urging, Don Emilio agreed to explore the city on their own. They
walked the waterfront, a collection of sheds, warehouses, taverns, and several
ramshackle hotels. The streets were dirty and unpaved; deeply rutted by wagon
wheels. Each time it rained these lanes became quagmires in which carts and
boots were stuck or lost. Buildings were mostly of wood, thrown together
quickly to accommodate the daily onslaught of new arrivals. Many of the
structures were made of clapboard or canvas, and out of them merchants sold a
multitude of things necessary for those who had traveled with little more than
the clothing on their backs.

They found a
street that looked better than the rest, where wooden sidewalks had been laid
and the buildings were more permanent. Shop windows were filled with
extravagances. In this part of town the shopkeepers had banded together to
create a more inviting atmosphere. Straw was laid in the streets when it rained
so that the ladies would not soil the hems of their skirts while alighting from
elegant carriages. Front Street was the showplace of the small but booming
town. Turning right on Kearney Street they walked toward the source of loud
music and could see that the upper part of the street was much busier than the
rest.

“Something is
happening, Father. Let us go and see?” Santiago’s eyes were darting everywhere.
Man and boy were overwhelmed by the scents and sounds, so foreign and exciting.
Santiago noticed with alarm how they were glared at by those they passed and
there was no mistaking the expression of hate. Little did they know how
unwelcome they were by the
Yankees
. Mexicans and anyone of Spanish
origin were not treated kindly by the Anglos. San Francisco had become a city
of races, and hatreds were never far from exploding into brawls often resulting
in killings. Chinese, Australians, Chileans, Peruvians, Irishmen, and a variety
of other races had come quickly when the news of the discovery of gold had
spread around the world.

These groups
banded together because the land was unknown and harsh. There were areas of the
town that developed into ethnic enclaves and these factions fell into
competition. The waterfront and areas surrounding it had become notoriously
lawless. It was not safe to walk there alone even in daylight. Men who drank
too much and stumbled home late, often awoke on the following morning to find
themselves aboard a ship already out of the harbor, and not to return for
months. It was not uncommon for a wife who found her husband missing to remarry
in a short time. Many were shiftless – aimless ruffians deserted by parents, or
boys who had run away from home to find their fortune. Others were children who
had stowed aboard ships to escape poverty or abuse, only to find they had not
escaped at all. Without means of support, many turned to prostitution. Some
were pressed into the work and held there by threat of death. Still others
became hopelessly addicted to opium supplied by ruthless brothel owners. Hidden
within a few blocks of where Santiago and his father walked were two houses of
prostitution that offered boys as young as seven. Some of these boys had been
brought from other countries, as boys from the United States were shanghaied
and sold in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. These houses prospered.

Until recent
times little had been done to bring law and order to the town. Out of necessity
vigilante committees were organized by the town fathers who felt that extremes
were being reached by a group of Australians terrorizing the waterfront. Known
as the
Sydney Ducks
, most were of the lower class and poor, uneducated,
and prone to fighting. They had succeeded in overpowering and replacing another
band of thugs called
The Hounds
. This group’s purpose was to hunt down
and bring back sailors and seamen who had deserted ship, and they often brought
back unwilling replacements to collect a bounty paid by the captain for each
replacement. The Hounds especially targeted men suspected of being of Spanish
descent. They were bigoted men who still felt hate over the recently-ended war
that had been fought over the very question of bigotry and slavery. Hostility
was prevalent.

When Don
Emilio and his son tried to get service at a café, they were ignored as they stood
by the door. Though they did not understand the words, it was clear that they
were being asked to leave.

“What is it
Father? Why is everyone so angry with us?”

“I don’t know,
son. Perhaps Padre Juan Carlos or the Captain can explain it. Come, let us walk
ahead and see why the people are making all the noise.”