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The Cuban Castaway
By C.J. Cannino
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY: C. J. Cannino on Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by C. J. Cannino
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.
Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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CHAPTER ONE
The Fishing Trip
Jorge opened one eye to find his mother’s face close to his. She whispered sweetly, “Wake up, mi hijo.” He rolled over and curled tighter into the fetal position. He shifted his head on the pillow and found a cool spot, nuzzling his face into it.
“Jorge,” his mother’s voice broke through his half sleep. “It’s time to get up now. We’re going fishing.”
Jorge opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow. “What do you mean we’re going fishing, Mama? What time is it?”
“It’s one o’clock in the morning, mi hijo. Oye, carino, let’s go in the kitchen and have some breakfast and I’ll explain everything.” Her voice sounded too sweet and insincere for this time of the morning, but the ten-year-old loved to fish, so he made his way to the kitchen. He sat at the table and munched on a piece of stale bread, half asleep. The crust of the hard bread scratched his throat as it went down. Jorge took a sip of diluted mango juice and his mind cleared.
He watched her wipe off the chipped, cracked tile on the kitchen counter. “I made the bread the way you like it, mi hijo, with lots of guava jelly,” said his mother Marisa.
“Thanks, Mom.” Jorge looked at his mother, waiting for her to explain the mysterious, middle-of-the-night fishing trip. She didn’t look him in the eye and seemed more concerned with picking at her fingernails and that told him she wasn’t telling him everything. Jorge heard his mother’s fiancé making noise in the other room. He got up from the breakfast table and walked to the doorway separating the cramped kitchen from the dark living room.
Martin, didn’t have the relaxed attitude of someone going fishing. He packed bags, his face worried. He wrung his hands and looked at a straw basket he was stuffing clothes into. His mother moved around the small apartment shutting all the louvers. The old wooden slats on the windows creaked and slammed and he saw her wince.
“Shhh,” said Martin.
“I’m sorry,” said Marisa. “I know we have to be quiet,”
“Mama,” Jorge said, “what’s going on? Why are you two sneaking around in the dark?”
“Like I told you, mi hijo,” his mother said, “we’re going on a little fishing trip. When you finish eating, get dressed and we’ll leave. I’ve laid out your shorts on your bed. I’m sorry you’re so tired, carino. Don’t worry though, once we get out on the boat, the fresh air will wake you up. It’s going to be a great adventure!” She laughed nervously. “Venga, vamonos, Corazon.”
“We’re going fishing on a boat? You mean we’re not fishing from the beach?”
Martin walked over to Jorge, smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a surprise we’ve been planning. You’ll see, Jorge. We’re in a hurry, though. A driver is coming to pick us up and take us to the boat, so be quick.”
“A driver? It’s the middle of the night.” Marisa and Martin didn’t answer and Jorge felt too tired to pursue the subject. He rubbed his eyes and walked toward his bedroom. With all the windows closed, the small apartment felt intensely hot and stuffy. He dressed quickly so he could get outside in the fresh air. “Martin, which fishing pole should I take?” Jorge asked.
Martin paused. “Don’t worry about it, Jorge,” he paused again. “The others we’re going with have fishing poles.”
Before Jorge could comment further, his mother poked her head out the window.
“C’mon, vamonos! The driver is here,” said Marisa.
Jorge climbed into the backseat of an old Soviet Lada. The engine groaned so loud that he wondered if the car would make it up the steep grade to the coast.
They bumped along the winding road in silence. The more he thought about it, the more Jorge realized the fishing expedition story didn’t make sense: leaving in the middle of the night, no fishing pole, and his mother couldn’t swim. He thought it was strange that with her fear of water, she would risk going out in the open sea on a boat. Jorge gave his mother a sideways glance. He had a feeling she was making up the story about a fishing trip. His mother put her finger to lips and whispered “Don’t ask,” so he didn’t.
The driver turned off on a dirt road into complete darkness. The headlights barely made a dent in the black that surrounded them. Nobody said a word. The silence and darkness ignited a fear in Jorge that made his voice crack with a weird sound.
“Mama, where are we going?”
She put her arm around him. “He’s taking us to the beach where the boat is waiting.”
“I’m not sure I like this,” Jorge said.
“Don’t worry, Jorge, you will.” His mother rubbed his back. “We’re almost there.”
Within a few minutes, the car came to a bumpy stop. Jorge watched Martin give the driver a wad of American dollars. The engine roared so loud Jorge thought the car would explode.
“Good luck!” the driver yelled over the noise, and he immediately turned around and headed back down the dark dirt road.
CHAPTER TWO
Troubled Water
Jorge, his mother and Martin climbed over the rocky beach and voices drifted up from the shore. As they approached the water, the so-called “fishing” vessel came into view. Marisa’s expression reminded Jorge of the look she gave him, when he drank all the milk and put the empty carton back in the refrigerator but now she looked scared and frustrated at the same time. He took her hand and squeezed it tightly.
“Mama, please! You have to tell me what’s going on, right now!”
Marissa bent down and spoke to Jorge in a cheerful voice. “Escucha, Jorge, I don’t want to lie to you,” said his mother. “We’re not going on a fishing trip, we’re moving to Florida. Listen, Corazon, we’re doing the right thing. We have no future here in Cuba, Jorge. Our apartment is falling apart and there are no resources to fix it. When you meet your aunt and uncle in Florida, you’ll see how beautiful their home is. Here, you’ll be stuck watching the same Pinocchio film over and over until the television breaks and then there will be no way to get a new one. In America, you can watch a new movie every night on a giant television screen.” His mother stroked his cheek and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.
Jorge’s stomach twisted and he felt a sharp painful cramp, as if someone had punched him and knocked the wind out of him. Was he hearing her correctly? Were they getting on a boat to leave Cuba forever? What about his father, he didn’t even say good-bye yet. And his book report in Literature class was due in two days. His teacher Senora Hernandez would not be happy. And what about his friends? What would they think when he suddenly disappeared? Jorge looked up at his mother; he wasn’t sure he could breathe, much less speak.
“You are such a special boy, Jorge,” Marisa said. “I want the best for you. Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.”
He wanted to trust his mother but he felt so afraid. “Oye, Mama, that boat looks too small for all these people. I saw the scared look on your face. You know it’s too small. ”
The boat was anchored a short distance from the rocky beach. Jorge didn’t think it looked that much bigger than the car they drove in. An old tarp tied to some bent aluminum poles provided a cover that gently flapped in the breeze.
When she didn’t answer him, Jorge tried again. “Besides, Mama, you can’t swim.”
“Oye, mi hijo, you and I have survived all this time in Havana on our own, we can survive just one day at sea. I know this is difficult for you to understand but when you’re older, you’ll realize that today is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Please, Jorge, think positive. Please, mi hijo, do it for me.”
“You know I would do anything for you, Mama, but this really scares me.” He squinted through the darkness to see if he could count all the people standing on the small beach. Then the sound of Martin’s angry voice pierced the quiet night. Martin pointed his finger in the Captain’s face, yelling that there wasn’t enough room on the small wooden boat for all the passengers.
The Captain wore a white cap with an anchor emblem on the front. He was muscular and swarthy and when he spoke to Martin, he puffed out his chest slightly.
“You don’t want to go to Los Estados Unidos, amigo?” said the Captain. “No problemo, nobody is forcing you. I’ll tell you right now, though, you’re not getting your money back, amigo. ”
Martin walked off in the opposite direction, shaking his head, but they got on the boat anyway and sat on splintered, wooden benches.
Jorge looked up and saw hundreds of stars. He tried to think of something other than getting in that old boat and sailing away. It was November, Jorge’s favorite time of year. November signaled the end of hurricane season in Cuba. He felt sorry to be leaving Havana during the best weather of the year. Never too hot, yet always warm enough. Through the dim light of dawn, Jorge could see a steep mountain covered in jungle foliage.
“Mama, where are we anyway?” Jorge asked.
“We are on a beach near Mariel. This is the best spot for sailing. The current will whisk us out to sea and we’ll be on our way to Florida, mi hijo.” She smiled in a phony way that made Jorge suspicious.
Jorge realized they were a long way from home and the driver was far away by now. He felt desperate and he made a final plea. “Let’s wait until tomorrow to leave. My stomach hurts. I don’t want to go on a boat ride today, please, mommy.”
“No, Jorge,” said Marisa. “It’s too late, we’re already in our seats.” She stroked his cheek with tenderness. “Don’t worry, it will be okay. Take a deep breath, you’ll feel better once we get going.”
A gust of wind blew and Jorge inhaled the ocean air, it did settle his stomach a little. He leaned back and looked around the boat. Old inner tubes hung from the outside, attached by ropes to prevent the boat from being damaged when it came into dock. Their straw basket and a small suitcase were among the other belongings piled on the floor. Jorge glanced toward the back of the boat and noted how low the stern sagged in the water under the weight of all the passengers.
The smell of mildew and rotten fish rose from under the bench. Jorge felt his stomach turn. At least he could simply hang his head over the side if he had to vomit. Then the Captain commanded everyone’s attention.
“We should arrive in Key West in about 55 hours,” said the Captain, as he stuck out his hand and collected money from the passengers. “Yes, we’re many on board this voyage tonight, but we have a good wind going in our direction and I think that will help us.”
The Captain’s authoritative voice made Jorge think more positively about his impending journey. Now he felt eager for the trip to begin, he wanted to believe it would be safe. He’d only been on a boat once before and the thought of sailing in the wide open ocean thrilled him.
Jorge scooted closer to his mother and looked around at his fellow passengers, who were wedged in side-by-side on the narrow benches. He counted fourteen people, mostly men. Some were older than Martin, but most were younger and there were only about three other women. The woman seated on the other side of him caught his eye because he saw her lips moving, but her eyes were closed. He looked down and noticed the rosary beads she held between her fingers.
The Captain assumed his position behind the steering wheel and fired up the motor with a roar. The roar quickly died down to a sputter, which didn’t sound healthy to Jorge. A large cloud of stinky gas engulfed the passengers and Jorge got queasy all over again. The fishing craft seemed to dip even lower in the water when they finally got going, especially when the Captain tried to accelerate. Jorge’s emotions raced back and forth between fear and excitement.
Within a few hours, raindrops fell on Jorge’s head, and the air hung heavy with humidity. The rain proved to be a topic of conversation for him, as he tried to make friends with the woman passenger next to him. They were all packed in so tightly together, he figured he should make friends if he was going to sit this close to someone for 50 hours. Jorge’s new friend took a break from her silent praying and put her rosary beads down. She chatted with him about her sister’s friend who made the same 90 mile trip across the Florida Straits.
“He said that as long as the weather is good, we’ll be fine,” she smiled at Jorge through an increasing rainfall. “And the Captain said the wind is in our favor,” she added.
Jorge saw the look of concern on her face though, when lightning flashed on the horizon. Moments later the loud rattle of thunder made the woman shudder. For some reason Jorge had an urge to know everything about this stranger. He wanted to ask her a million question, like where were her children? Who was she leaving behind? And most of all, did she have the same fear he did?
“Are you afraid?” Jorge asked her.
“Who, me?” she asked. Jorge nodded yes. “I’m terrified. God help us,” she whispered.
“The thunder sounds so much louder out here in the open,” Jorge commented.
“Yes, it certainly does.” She took up her rosary beads again and bent her head in prayer.
Jorge could see dim flashes of lightning in the distance and he heard the muffled boom of thunder coming closer. In a heartbeat, it felt like someone opened a giant door and a strong howling wind swooshed over them. That wind the Captain had referred to as a “good wind” rapidly turned into a gale. The boat felt like a cork bouncing up and down on the waves. Jorge’s stomach roiled in pain. He desperately wanted to relieve the nausea by vomiting, so he hung his head over the side and forced himself to throw up. The left over guava jelly burned his throat and made him feel worse. He coughed and gagged while his mother rubbed his back.
“It’s okay Jorge, you’re going to feel better now that you threw up. Don’t worry, mi hijo, this is just a rough patch of sea. We’ll be in the clear soon.
All the passengers had varied expressions of fear and surprise on their faces. They were powerless to react and looked at the Captain for an explanation or directions, or some type of guidance. Sweat dripped down the Captain’s face as he grunted each time he yanked the cord to restart the dying motor.
Jorge’s new friend grew more agitated. She no longer held her beads but rather clutched the side of the boat and prayed out loud to make her voice heard above the deafening sound of the waves pounding against the boat. The wind blew her hair straight back and her eyes bugged out, in complete fear.
The woman next to him prayed louder but it was still difficult to hear her over the roar of the ocean and the loud sucking sound of the fierce winds. Jorge looked at his mother for guidance but her eyes were squeezed shut. The boat rocked and swayed and the Captain struggled to hold the steering wheel as it spun out of control. The thunder and lightning that hours ago had been distant, was now directly overhead. Each time a bolt of lightning struck, everyone’s face was outlined in bright light, intensifying their terrorized expressions.
“Please stay calm!” the Captain shrieked.
Driving rain pelted Jorge’s face. Everyone was completely soaked. He had never been outside in such a powerful storm, let alone in the middle of the wide open ocean. The boat rocked violently as the large waves slapped against the sides. Jorge sat paralyzed with fear, he couldn’t move and clung to his mother’s waist. Waves washed over the side of the boat and Jorge looked down to see murky water swirling around his feet, soaking all the baggage. He watched in horror as the passengers tried desperately to grasp on to the sides so they wouldn’t tumble into the ocean.
The wooden boat moaned and creaked, as if it was going to snap in two.
“Mama, we’re going to die!” Jorge screamed.
She said nothing and held on to him tighter.
Just then, Martin reached into the bow of the boat and came up with an arm load of lifejackets. There weren’t enough lifejackets for everyone but he gave Jorge and his mother two. The lifejacket was huge on him and went up to his ears. Jorge looked up into his mother’s face and could see that even in her panicked state, she was thinking.
“Martin, give me your knife, quick,” she said. Martin always kept a pocket knife within reach. Quickly she took the knife from him and reached over the side of the boat and cut the rope dangling overboard that had an inner tube attached. She tied the inner tube to the straps of Jorge’s lifejacket.
“Mi hijo, you’re an excellent swimmer. We will survive this, Jorge, we will!”
“But Mama, you can’t swim. What will you do?”
“It’s okay, corazon,” she said with quivering lips, “Don’t worry about me.”
“No, mommy, no, I won’t let go of you!”
In one swift stroke, a huge wave crashed on top of the passengers and the boat capsized. The force of the impact broke the boat apart and Jorge was ripped from his mother’s arms. Just before he hit the water, Jorge watched his fellow passengers scrambling to hold on to something as they were flung headlong into the churning ocean.
Powerful waves pushed Jorge under and water surged through his nose and mouth, but he kept bobbing back up to the surface because his inner tube was strapped to his back. Each time he came up for air, he spit out a mouthful of water and yelled for his mother. He thought he heard her crying out for him but he wasn’t sure -- there was so much screaming and yelling for help.
Jorge heard screams from his shipmates in front of him and behind him. Passengers were scattered everywhere. If it weren’t for the lightening, Jorge would be in complete darkness. For an instant, he thought he spotted his mother. Her arms were moving up and down like a propeller. He tried to swim towards her but it was difficult to move his arms and legs because the inner tube was cumbersome and the waves kept pushing him under.
A forceful current carried him under and away from the boat. He cried out for his mother. He knew not to fight the current, so he treaded water and tried to keep his face up.
“Mama,” he called out, “I am here… Mommy!”
All Jorge could hear were the desperate cries of the other passengers, but he couldn’t hear the sound of his mother’s voice. “Mommy, help me please,” he sobbed. Jorge kicked his legs with all his strength to keep his head up above the water line. His salty tears ran into the salty water already in his mouth. If he kept treading water, then he could keep his head up and just ride the waves.
Jorge knew there was nothing he could do but to keep kicking and stay afloat. The steady rain continued to drum on the top of his head but the fierce winds were finally beginning to subside. Despite the heavy downpour, the air was hot and humid, and the water didn’t feel cold.
A large piece of wood from the boat wreckage floated up next to Jorge. His hand trembled as he grabbed hold of it and pulled it close. Frightened and shaking Jorge did his best to hoist himself out of the water and onto the wreckage.
His inner tube and lifejacket were still attached. On his hands and knees now, his body shook with fear and he coughed up all of salt water he’d just swallowed. Jorge’s lungs burned with every cough, his eyes and nose stung, and he couldn’t catch his breath.
Finally, Jorge stopped coughing long enough to take a breath. He sat up on the makeshift raft and scanned the water for his mother, but it was dark and it seemed to him that he had drifted away from the wreckage. He narrowed his eyes and squinted to see if he could spot anything in the water, but he no longer saw the heads of the others bobbing up and down in the waves. He saw nothing but water and murky darkness around him. Terror and panic took over, and he felt his head whirling around.
“No! No! This isn’t happening to me,” he screamed aloud.
In the next moment, Jorge felt very sleepy, and he thought he must be dreaming. There was no way he was the only survivor of the shipwreck. Others had to be around to help him out of the water. Where were they? Then he put his hands behind him and felt the inner tube tied to his lifejacket. Jorge realized the inner tube on his back had saved his life. None of the other passengers had the extra flotation device. He was lucky to survive being tossed overboard. Without the tube, he never could have endured those giant waves. Thinking of the shipwreck made him feel exhausted and weak. His chest burned and his head ached with dizziness. He felt an irresistible urge to close his eyes.
CHAPTER THREE
Shipwreck
Jorge woke up to the sound of complete calm. The serene quiet was a total contrast from what the ocean sounded like hours before. He felt like a wrung-out piece of clothing lying on the wreckage of their boat, with an inner tube tied to his back. He was limp and lifeless. The sun was so bright, it hurt his burning eyes. He closed them hoping when he opened them again, he’d be back in his bed at home.
“Oh no,” he said aloud to himself, “it really did happen.” He remembered the car ride and his mother and Martin. His mother, where was she?
Jorge looked around in all directions and realized the only visible signs of life were birds. He felt his heart thumping with fear as he gulped for hot, muggy air. Water surrounded him everywhere. He floated in the dark blue portion of the ocean and ahead of him the water turned different colors; a lighter shade of blue and then a pale green. The sky was a bright crystal blue, with a few scattered clouds. No rain, no wind. There was absolutely no sign of last night’s storm, except for some debris that floated by.
A piece of wood drifted by Jorge, then some branches, a clump of garbage, a cluster of plastic bottles. Then something caught his eye. The Captain’s hat. The hat was caught in a slow moving spiral current and spun around in circles like the ships steering wheel, spinning out of control. Jorge blinked and squinted, were his eyes playing tricks on him? Had the Captain himself come to save him? He jumped off his raft and swam toward the hat.
“Here,” he yelled, “El Capitan, I’m here!”
The cap continued to swirl round and round and the closer Jorge got, the sooner he realized there was no sign of the Captain.
Jorge’s head burned and the skin on his face and shoulders felt dry and taut. He looked around for something to cover him from the bright, white heat that penetrated his skin. The lifejacket chafed under his arms. At least the Captain’s hat would provide some protection, he thought. Jorge scooped the cap out of the water and noticed the grey perspiration stain around the inside. He plopped it on his head and thought of the Captain, so sure of his ability before they set sail and yet completely helpless when trouble struck. The cap came down over his eyes. Still, the visor kept the sun off his face. He was grateful for even a tiny bit of shade. When Jorge realized he was completely alone in the wide open water panic struck and he swam as fast as he could back to the raft.
Jorge estimated he had been stranded on the raft for at least five or six hours. He looked up at the burning sun, high in the sky, he’d made it to afternoon the next day. Jorge wondered when his mother and Martin would come for him and why he couldn’t see any of the other passengers. For now though, his mind was consumed with thirst. Jorge’s mouth had a stale, bitter taste and his tongue and lips felt parched.
He looked at some branches that had just floated by and noticed a bunch of coconuts attached. He immediately thought of the sweet juice inside the rough, brown orbs and knew they would be a source of refreshment. He licked his dry, cracked lips, thinking about the milky nectar. Jorge lay down on his stomach and used his arms to paddle toward the branches. He scooped the coconuts out of the water and slammed the hard shells against the water-logged wood he was sitting on, to try and break it open.
Where was everybody? He threw the nut in anger and then took the next one and hit the nut hard against the wood, shattering the shell into a dozen pieces.
“Uno, dos, tres,” he said, striking the coconut harder each time. Finally, success, another nut cracked open and he quickly lifted it to his mouth to catch all the juice. The sweet nectar trickled down his throat and wet his mouth with a refreshing taste. Jorge smacked his quivering lips and tears came to his eyes.
What if he didn’t find any more coconuts? What would he eat? How could he possibly survive out here without something to drink? Jorge felt panic inside his chest rising while his heart beat faster and faster.
“Now what, Mama?” he said aloud. Like a fairy Godmother, he heard her calm voice in his head.
“Whenever you feel anxious or afraid of something, just think instead of something you like, or something that makes you happy. It helps too, to take a deep breath,” his mother always advised him.
Jorge inhaled the sticky, salty air. He lay on his back and looked up at the odd cloud formations floating by. Some of the clouds were round and puffy, while others were stretched across the sky in narrow lines. The weather was beginning to change again. He pictured himself in his favorite place; at home in his living room in the old brown chair in front of the T.V., where he watched his beloved Pinocchio.
At his age, most children had outgrown the story of the wooden puppet, but the film never bored him. Besides, in Cuba, there were few movies available and his choices were limited. Jorge loved all the characters in the story.
He tried to relax and took a deep breath and pretended to press the play button on the VCR. Jorge took his memory back to the beginning of the film when Gepetto longed for a son. The toy maker reminded him of his own mother and father, who wanted very much to have a child. Before they separated, his parents used to tell him how they had nearly given up on having a baby because it took almost three years for his mother to become pregnant.
Now floating alone, it soothed him to think about his mother and her daily routine. He pictured her on the small patio of their apartment with the laundry billowing in the wind as she unpinned the clothes from the line. The vision of her performing the task he had seen her do over and over again, made him miss his mother and that feeling of panic struck again. Like a high wave that washes over you and sucks you under, the memory of the deadly storm he had just survived interrupted his soothing thoughts.
Jorge tried not to think about the shipwreck but the awful memory of it kept coming back. The roar of the turbulent ocean and high winds, the terror of being flung into the water when the boat tipped over and the hysterical woman sitting next to him, who continued to pray through it all. In desperation, he gave in and let the final memory of his mother into his thoughts. The last thing he remembered about her was the determined look on her face as she strapped on the lifejacket and tied the inner tube around him.
“Don’t worry about me,” she had said. But he was worried about her. Where was she?
Jorge reached for another coconut. He used the buckle on the life jacket to chip away at the inside of the fruit so he could eat some of the meat. He sucked the smooth white fruit and tasted the sweet juice. The distraction of the coconut pacified him, lulling him into a temporary comfort zone.
Jorge tried to think of something other than that horrible scene of pandemonium.
“I’m going to be O.K,” he told himself.
Jorge closed his eyes and forced himself to think of Pinocchio. Still, he could not fully engage his thoughts. He realized now that his mother made a bad decision. She steered him into a churning ocean that she couldn’t possibly navigate. He didn’t exactly blame his mother but he felt a deep sorrow for her. Her plan to make a better life for the two of them had turned into a disaster. His father would be very angry with Marisa and Martin for doing such a stupid thing. Maybe his father had rescued her already and now both of them were trolling the water, looking for Jorge.
The intense muggy heat faded slightly as twilight neared. Jorge was glad that he would be out of the direct sun, but at the same time, he feared floating in the vast ocean alone in the dark. His other concern was his raft. By now, the wood was so waterlogged that the jagged edge of the makeshift vessel dipped precariously under the water. He wouldn’t be able to use the sinking raft much longer and he hoped the inner tube had enough air to keep him afloat.
Jorge spent the next couple of hours smacking the coconuts on the wood and breaking the nuts into pieces. He felt like a squirrel as he tucked bits and pieces into the pockets of his shorts. His pockets were full now and he looked around to see that his raft was almost completely submerged except for one corner. With a ceremonious shove, Jorge pushed himself away from the raft and untied the rope that bound him to his tube. He swam under water and came up through the hole of the tube and sat on top. His bottom sank in the middle and his arms and legs hung over the sides. Jorge liked the perspective of the wide open sky. He looked up and saw the colors change from blue to pink and then finally darkness closed in. Jorge heard splashing sounds, like fish jumping in and out of the water. Terror gripped him when he thought of the obvious. “Sharks!” He screamed out loud.
Jorge leaned forward and peered cautiously into the water. A large dark cloud surrounded his feet. Upon closer examination he realized it was a not a shark but a school of small fish, darting around for something to eat.
“No, little fish, you won’t have my toes for dinner.” The fish brushed against his feet with a gentle swish and it tickled Jorge and made him smile to think there was something else alive in the wide open ocean.
Stars twinkled and winked at him as he looked into the night sky. It was so dark that the stars seemed twice as bright and so close. He felt like he could reach up and touch them. He wanted to think about the stars and the velvet sky above instead of the sea life that could be lurking below, ready to take a bite out of him. Jorge closed his eyes and let the undulating cool water lull him to sleep.
The next morning, Jorge woke to the sound of a loud hum. He wanted to open his eyes but they felt swollen shut and they burned like somebody had poked them with a red hot stick. Slowly he blinked and squinted against the harsh morning light. Immediately, Jorge’s spirits were lifted as he watched a large cargo ship slice through the water toward him, its massive engine creating an echo across the empty space. Help is finally here, he thought, at last they’ve come for me.
“Over here,” he yelled and waved his arms.
At first, he was certain the ship had come to rescue him, because it chugged straight for him. Maybe his mother was onboard safe and directing the search party to Jorge. He continued to yell and scream, but the slow moving beast kept coming, completely unaware of his presence.
“Hey! Wait!” he screamed, his throat so dry and parched that hardly a sound came out. His tiny voice dwarfed by sound of the ship’s engine humming across the liquid landscape.
“Please help,” he yelled as loud as he could. “Here, I’m over here!” His voice was lost under the noise of the engine. Jorge’s eyes scanned the deck of the ship. He saw absolutely no sign of human life. Just containers piled on top of each other. The ship appeared to be a ghost gliding through the ocean on automatic pilot. Jorge was so close to the boat that he noticed the green algae and barnacles attached to its massive side.
Without warning, Jorge felt something nudge his leg. Startled, he jerked his legs out of the water as he noticed large grey shapes swimming around him. Despite the oppressive heat, he felt a cold chill run from his head to his shriveled feet. He was terrified of a shark attack. Jorge’s terror subsided though, when he saw the grey shapes popping out of the water and jumping over the wake of the ship. He watched in amazement as the dolphins surrounded the ship and carried on their own game of chicken with the ship’s bow. He counted six shiny grey fins jumping up and down and weaving in and out. The exhilarating play energized Jorge, he took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could.
“Please, help me,” he repeated. “I am here.”
The ship’s wake pushed Jorge away and the water churned violently. One large wave launched Jorge forward, and he popped out of his inner tube. He reached for his hat, his eagerness to see human life and get help, now replaced with fear. He realized that the ship was going to hit him, if he didn’t get out of the way.
Turbulent water from the ship engulfed him as he clung to the tube. The 10-year-old latched on to the squishy black rubber with all his strength. This tube was his lifesaver, he couldn’t lose it. He kicked his legs and felt his tattered shorts swish against his thighs. The salt water stung his sunburn. His lungs still ached from all the coughing.
“They must know I’m missing, why aren’t people looking for me? Don’t the people driving the boat know they almost drowned me?”
“Somebody help me now!” he yelled as loud as he could. It was no use, nobody was helping him, the giant grey ghost moved ever so slowly away from him, taking the dolphins with it. For a time, the dolphins lingered around the boy, no longer jumping and playing in the wake but swimming silently side by side. It seemed to him the dolphins were trying to beckon him to follow them. They swam off gracefully. Jorge cried softly as he bobbed up and down in the ship’s wake.
Now completely alone again, Jorge felt the hunger pangs attacking his stomach. He fished in his pocket for some coconut that was completely water logged. Still, the mushy white meat tasted salty sweet. He tried to nibble slowly because Jorge knew from experience that too much coconut milk would cause severe cramping and diarrhea. It didn’t matter though, he was so hungry he would have eaten anything, at that moment.
All the debris that surrounded his inner tube the day before had drifted away and he saw nothing but two colors all around him: blue sky and green-blue water. Very far off in the distance Jorge could make out the land mass that loomed beyond the blue abyss. Was he drifting back home to Cuba or was that Florida? How could he ever expect to swim that far? There was just no way. This giant ship had to notice him before it was too late.
Jorge took another deep breath, “Help me! I am here. Look over here, It’s me Jorge. Please don’t go! I am here. Help Me!”
The boat continued on. Jorge pushed his hands over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. The darkness was a welcome change after the harsh brightness of the morning light. He kept his eyes shut and prayed out loud.
“Please, God, help me. I’m going to die out here all alone. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go to America anymore. I want to go home to my mom, back to Havana where I belong. Please take me home. Please` God, don’t let me die. Tell my mother where I am. I know she’s looking for me. I’m so sorry for what Mommy and I did. I know leaving was wrong, it was a mistake and if you take me home God, I will personally tell El Presidente Fidel that I’m sorry. I will never leave my beloved Cuba again. Please don’t let me die. I beg you, please God.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Castaway
Loud, frantic squawking rousted Jorge from his semi-sleep. He watched in amazement while a flock of pelicans took turns dive-bombing for fish. Gracefully they flew in a circle, waiting for the exact moment to tuck their wings and plunge into the water. When the birds flew behind him, Jorge slowly spun his inner tube around to watch. He blinked several times, not believing his own eyesight. Not far off in the distance, an empty boat floated along aimlessly.
Jorge wasn’t about to miss this chance and he jumped out of his inner tube and pushed it in front of him kicking as fast as he could toward the abandoned boat. His legs felt like large sacks of cement weighing him down. He could barely kick.
It could be that he was hallucinating. He’d heard of people being stranded in the desert, dying of thirst and seeing images of an oasis that didn’t really exist. Maybe that’s what was happening to him. He reached out, expecting to touch air but to his surprise his palm touched solid wood. The dinghy was real. The small, beat up boat had a rope swinging from the bow. It looked to Jorge as if it had broken free and floated out to sea during the storm.
Jorge hoisted himself half way up but his arms were very weak and his muscles could hardly support his weight. He fell back in the water and then heard his mother’s voice in his head, encouraging him.
“C’mon Jorge, you’re a strong boy, you can do it!” he said aloud.
He kicked and squirmed until he fell into the boat, like a fish flopping on deck. He knew that the inner tube saved his life, but he felt so relieved to be out of the water now. He looked over at the tube floating near the boat, he couldn’t just leave it. The tube was the last memory he had of his mother, the vision of her tying it on him flashed before him again and he reached in the water and brought the tube onboard.
His arms and legs ached and burned with fatigue but he felt a sense of renewed hope that somehow this boat had found its way to him. Jorge quickly glanced around the old stinking boat and saw the tackle box. “Perhaps I really am going on a fishing trip after all.”
A gaping hole in the bow looked to be the only sign of serious damage but the inside needed bailing out. Jorge scanned the floor and took stock of the inventory. He located an old rusted can and started scooping out the murky water. A set of oars rested in their place along both sides, neatly placed in the brackets. He looked under the bench and found a cushion with straps that also served as a life saving device.
“Where is the fisherman who lost this boat?” he wondered. A chill ran through his body as he thought of an old man swept out to sea like the others. The memory of the storm stung like an angry wasp and he felt determined not to think about it. At least now there was something solid underneath him other than undulating water. The ocean was tranquil and obedient, the complete opposite of what he’d experienced during the storm. The waves made a gentle snoring sound when they hit the side of the dinghy.
Curiosity pushed Jorge toward the front of the boat. He saw a bundle tucked tightly away in the bow. Jorge got up but his legs wobbled and his head felt woozy. He pulled at the rolled-up faded red and white striped towel and felt something hard in the middle.
He unwrapped the towel to reveal an old, rusty tin box. Before he looked inside the box though, something shiny on the ground caught his eye. A clear, plastic canteen full of fresh water. He looked up to the sky. God had answered his prayers. Jorge unscrewed the top and brought the bottle to his mouth. The cool, plain water refreshed him like a wilted flower in need of watering. He gulped and gulped, then Jorge held out the bottle in front of him and eyed its contents. The canteen was still half full. He wanted to drink every drop and a thousand more canteens full of fresh water like this one. He took a small sip and swished it around in his mouth, wetting his dry, cracked lips.
“Ahhhh,” he said.
Jorge closed his eyes and savored the moisture. The water tasted even better than his favorite candies his mother would bring him for a treat. He screwed the cap back on the canteen.
Next, Jorge placed his fingernails under the rim of the tin box and pulled. “Wow, I can’t believe it!” He said out loud. “Real food!”
First he peeled the banana and immediately shoved the sweet, mushy fruit in his mouth. Then Jorge began eating the supply of cookies. They were the most delicious things he’d ever tasted. A kind of sandwich cookie, chocolate flavored on the outside and a melted sugary cream on the inside.
“Umm, these are so good.” He licked his lips and tasted the sugary sweetness a second time.
Jorge took a sip of water and moved on to the next course. Even though he never liked sardines in the past, when he peeled back the tin and smelled the salty fish, it smelled so irresistible; he couldn’t wait to take a bite. Jorge savored the strong fishy taste and tried to slow down, realizing that he needed to save some sardines for later. The heat pounded on his head, he felt dizzy and light headed. He understood that once his stomach digested some of this food, he wouldn’t feel so woozy.
With his stomach full, Jorge lay down on the bottom of the damp boat and stretched his legs out. Then he covered himself with the striped towel. He used his life jacket as a cushion under his head and rubbed his belly. Despite his lonely, desperate situation, he felt safe for the moment. For the first time in many hours, he had the feeling that he might not die after all. Perhaps he would live another day to see his mother’s sweet smile. He had everything he needed for now; water and food. Jorge pulled the towel over his body and put his head under the shade of the bench. The intense sun made him want to curl up into a dark spot and close his eyes. The stench of the moldy boat bottom attacked his nostrils, he didn’t care though, Jorge was safe inside his cocoon for the moment and that’s all that mattered.