The one-eyed oarsman has a bout of coughing, but he doesn’t stop rowing or look up.
Soon the boat and the jetty have become a blur, quivering through the mist and the shimmering glare.
“What did you think of Don Mincho’s livestock?” the guide asks as he moves toward the center of the canoe and the barrel of drinking water. “That orange was too sweet,” he says as he takes the drinking gourd filled with water out of the barrel.
Clemen again grabs hold of the sides of the canoe, which is rocking sharply from the guide’s movements.
“Good stock,” Jimmy says, “though we still haven’t decided what to buy.”
The guide gives him a sly look of complicity.
The coast has turned into a brown line. Jimmy shoots a parting glance at the jetty and San Nicolás, where only a few spots of color still sparkle.
“I want some water, too,” Clemen says. “You guys want?” he asks the oarsmen.
“Too soon for them,” the guide responds quickly.
The fat oarsman smiles again.
“Those shitfaces make me nervous,” Clemen whispers in Jimmy’s ear, looking at the oarsmen out of the corner of his eye. “They haven’t opened their mouths since we left.”
“Not everybody’s a big mouth like you,” Jimmy answers.
A breeze begins to blow; the canoe picks up speed.
The guide raises his hand and stretches out his palm; then he licks his palm and raises it again, swiveling it around to find the direction of the wind.
“Time to raise the sail,” he says, moving toward the middle of the canoe. Clemen and Jimmy make room for him.
“Careful.,” Clemen cries, tense, again grabbing onto the side of the boat.
The guide and Jimmy lift the mast and unfurl the sail.
For the first time the one-eyed oarsman looks up; he smiles, toothless. The fat oarsman turns around, looks at the sail, and also flashes a smile. They say nothing, but they decrease the rhythm of their rowing.
The canoe moves forward faster, as if it were skimming over the water.
Jimmy lets out a shout of joy.
“Take it easy, pirate.,” Clemen cries, without letting go of the side, without even relaxing his grip.
The guide stays next to the mast, manipulating the sail; Clemen and Jimmy have moved to the bow.
“We got away from them.,” Jimmy says, a big smile on his face, raising and dropping his eyebrows several times in jest.
The breeze turns into a strong wind; the sail swells.
The guide repeats that they’ve got luck on their side; he looks off into the metallic blue sky, the immense and empty horizon, where there is no other boat anywhere in sight.
Jimmy glances at his pocket watch: it’s five to three.
“At this rate we’ll be there before eight,” Jimmy guesses.
The canoe glides over the water with only the merest hint of swaying.
Clemen lets go of the boat with his right hand, takes a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, and with a practiced move pulls one out with his lips. Then he takes some matches out of his trouser pockets.
“You can let go,” Jimmy tells him. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not going to be able to light it with one hand.”
“I’m not afraid,” Clemen says irritably. He lets go with the other hand.
But the wind is interfering with his efforts to light the cigarette. Jimmy leans over to help him shield the match with his cupped hands.
Clemen smokes, relaxed.
“Have you been to Cosigüina many times?” he asks Jimmy.
Jimmy says yes and assures him they will be warmly welcomed; two of his best friends, officers who graduated with him in Fort Riley, are stationed at that base.
“Now I feel like a whiskey,” says Clemen, and he asks the guide to pass him his knapsack.
“Careful you don’t get seasick,” Jimmy warns him.
Clemen stares at him, annoyed.
“Too bad we don’t have any ice,” he says as he takes out the bottle.
At that moment, a gust of wind makes the canoe shudder and begin to lurch.
“It’s getting choppy,” the guide says.
Clemen puts the bottle back in his knapsack and again grabs hold of the side of the boat. Another gust, stronger than the previous one, carries Clemen’s hat off into the waves.
“Shit, what was that!?”
The guide is trying to maneuver the sail, which is now being slammed with one gust after another.
“Strange wind, with clear skies and no storm in sight,” Jimmy says as he gets up to help the guide.
The canoe rocks back and forth with each blast.
The sea has suddenly gotten very rough: the waves slam against the sides, sending walls of water into the boat.
The oarsmen are rowing with more effort.
“Is this a current?” Clemen asks, his face ashen, unable to hide his fear.
“It’ll pass,” says the guide, grabbing onto the mast with one hand and the barrel of water with the other, looking around as if for an explanation for this squall.
The fat oarsman has stopped smiling; his face clouds over with fear. The one-eyed oarsman, his head down, rows more vigorously.
Then several gusts of wind hit them from the front: the canoe founders.
“Pull down the sail,” the guide shouts.
Jimmy tries to help him.
“Let’s turn back!” Clemen cries.
The fat oarsman moves his head wildly up and down in agreement.
“It’s no big deal,” Jimmy says sternly, as if rebuking Clemen for his fear; they manage to fold up the sail.
The guide insists that very soon they’ll pass through this gale.
“It’s as if we’re being attacked from all sides!” Clemen exclaims.
The canoe lurches forward; the waves are getting stronger and higher.
Clemen finds himself suspended in the air. When the boat slams down on the water, the boat shudders; the water barrel crashes down. Jimmy and the guide quickly set it right.
Another wave hits hard against the side of the canoe, drenching them with water.
“Turn around!” Clemen shouts.
The fat oarsman has stopped rowing and is holding onto the sides of the boat in terror.
“We can hold out a little longer!” Jimmy exclaims.
The wind whips around them.
The guide is bewildered: he looks at the oarsmen, then at Jimmy. And then, stunned, he sees the swell.
“Careful!” he shouts.
The canoe capsizes.
2. NIGHT
“Fuck!. Jimmy!. Jimmy!. ”
“Calm down.”
“Where are we?”
“You fell asleep.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“Stop squirming around so frantically, you’re going to flip over the boat.”
“I’m sitting down. ”
“I know, but first you’d better get used to the dark. You’ve been sleeping for about three hours.”
“I can’t see you, Jimmy. Where are you? Where’s the lamp?”
“Here, next to me.”
“Light it, so I can see where I am.”
“You don’t need it. Close your eyes then open them slowly. Soon you’ll be able to see in the dark.”
“Quit giving me advice and hand me the god damn lamp.”
“We’re not going to light it unless there’s an emergency, a real danger. It’s too risky. You’re sitting down now, there’s nothing to see that you didn’t see before it got dark.”
“You never stop giving orders, do you, asshole? You can’t get it through your head that I’m not your corporal. ”
“Sergeants have corporals. We captains have lieutenants. Ignoramus. ”
“It’s horrible to wake up in the dark.”
“It’d be more horrible to not wake up.”
“What? What did you say?”
“Look at the sky. I’m always amazed at how many stars. ”