Percosin
Chapter 1
HURRICANE
September, 1622
Truly I was born to be an
example of misfortune and a target at
which the arrows of adversity are aimed.
Don Quixote
Cervantes
GULF OF MEXICO, NORTH OF CUBA
A howling wind and blinding rain blew in gale force. Luis trudged across the slippery planks, holding on to anything to keep from washing overboard. His mind flashed back to José’s drowning 14 years earlier. The violent sea rose high, waves towering above the ship. As water hissed across the deck, the wind tore at him like a savage beast. He prodded his body towards the mizzen mast where five seamen, lashed high on a tiny platform, were trying to ride out the storm. He couldn’t fathom it but proceeded to climb up the rigging and lash onto the mast also.
For some reason they have done this to survive here instead of staying below.
“Make it tight, Alférez,” yelled a seaman.
Handling an unwieldy wet rope, he tried to avert salt spray stinging his eyes. When the vessel rolled, he held tightly to the mast to avoid going overboard. With much effort, he wrapped the hemp around his body, fastened it, and prayed it would hold.
“Will this save me?!” he bellowed.
A seaman screamed back.
“If we hit a reef! If the ship goes straight down, and the bottom’s not over 50-60 feet, we remain at the highest point! Everyone below could be trapped! Should we capsize, look to your own!”
Luis found comfort in the answer. He wanted to stay on the perch and hoped the storm would abate by morning. He reasoned it far better than facing the human drama taking place below. Emotions and anguish roiled there, though nature’s full wrath surged on deck.
But perchance, up here I have an advantage if we sink.