VOYAGE OF STRANGERS by Zelvin Elizabeth

Author:Zelvin, Elizabeth [Zelvin, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2013-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Dominica, November 3, 1493

The wind continued steady and the weather fair. We sighted drifting grasses and birds that we knew nested ashore. Pelicans, which I had considered birds of good omen since our first voyage, visited us on deck. Comical and ungainly once they folded their wings, they were eager to contest the catch of fish with which we varied our diet of salt beef and the tiresome and by this time wormy biscuit. We made landfall three weeks to the day from our departure from the Canaries.

At the cry of “Land!” from the lookout in the crow’s nest, all those not on watch roused from slumber and stumbled toward the rail, scratching at their bodies and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Rachel, barefoot and tousled, emerged from the Admiral’s cabin, where she slept on a pallet near the door. The Admiral overtook her in a couple of eager strides. The men who clustered around the rail made way for him.

Dawn was breaking. A high mountain pierced the bank of steel gray cloud before us. The peak was little more than a black bulk, as the sun was rising behind us in the east. As we watched, its slopes were touched with pearl and then gold until those with keen eyes could discern the green of forests. We sailors had much to do before we could land. We scurried about our work, hardly needing the orders of master and pilot to ready the ship with speed and efficiency.

The Admiral returned to his cabin, taking Rachel with him to assist in writing the great news not only in his logbook but also in the letters he was preparing for the Sovereigns. When he returned to the deck, he summoned Fray Buil and the other priests to lead prayers of thanksgiving for our safe arrival, exclaiming on the omen of our making landfall on the Christian Sabbath.

“I will name this island Dominica,” he declared, then bowed his head in devotion as the company began to sing.

Rachel slipped away, whispering to me that she would tell Cristobal, too weak to rise from his pallet below, that he was home. I didn’t know how much the news would please him. We were still far from Hispaniola, where my friend Hutia and the rest of his family awaited him, surely praying to their gods that he still lived. His village lay near our fort of La Navidad. With a shudder of apprehension, I remembered that my enemy Cabrera waited, too, and how he had cursed me as our boat pulled away from shore. But I was no longer a boy to be intimidated. I trusted that when the time came to face him, Ha’shem would be with me. As the company sang their Latin Hail Mary and Praise to God, I murmured under my breath the words of the Psalm of David: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…I shall fear no evil….”

A hand fell on my shoulder. My eyes flew open. It was only my friend Fernando, who whispered in my ear, “Rafael asks you to come quickly.

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