The Titans of the Pacific

by Robert Gammon

  “And where will I be?” said Pedro, heart beating fast.

  “You’ll be with me, of course, you dummy. Then, I’ll introduce you to my sister and to Carolina. I’ll speak to my sister and you can talk to Carolina.”

  Great – I’m ready, thought Pedro, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What would he say to Carolina? How long would he have? Perhaps only a minute – he must cause an impression. He couldn’t miss his chance – it could be the only one he’d get. Let’s go.

  “Hey, mama wanted me to tell you something… By the way, this is my friend, Pedro.”

  “Hi, Pedro, nice to meet you. This is my friend Carolina.”

  “So, Pedro, I hear you want to speak to me,” said Carolina when they were alone. Pedro, normally chatty, was speechless: she was so direct and confident.

  “Yeah, well, you know…” said Pedro, trying to control a shiver. Carolina noticed and smiled.

  It wasn’t hot but Pedro felt his mouth going dry and managed to control those butterflies, “I just wanted to talk to you… how about going to drink a Coca Cola or something; it’s very hot, isn’t it?”

  “Carolina, come. Let’s go. We’ll be late for dinner,” said her aunt, stirring from her bench. The hag knew from experience her niece was being accosted. Who was she talking to? She’d never seen him before. Not the son of any of her friends – he couldn’t be from a good family. She was smiling at him. Must drag Carolina away or her mother would never forgive her, thought the aunt.

  “Alright auntie, I’m coming… Okay, Pedro, let’s meet for a drink tomorrow, say, at five in the afternoon – at that Japanese corner shop at the end of my road. I go there often with my maid to buy things. My mother won’t suspect and she’ll allow me to go with the maid. You know the store – your elder brother is courting the owner’s daughter, isn’t he?” said Carolina, smiling mischievously. Pedro gaped – she knew everything. She was no meek little thing. He shouldn’t have been surprised – she was every bit the character he’d expected.

  “Okay, Carolina, yeah, see you tomorrow, at five,” whispered Pedro.

  Then, Carolina and Pedro returned to their respective groups of friends. Their brisk encounter unnoticed to most – what luck.

  Next day, Pedro was at the Japanese corner shop by 4:45pm. Apart from a small general store, the corner shop was a place where young people met for a soft drink and a chat – only adults went to bars. He ordered a Cola and steadied himself. Looking at his watch, it was 5:00pm. No sign of Carolina – damn it, had she changed her mind?

  5:15pm – Carolina walked in, chatting to her maid, and Pedro sighed as those butterflies stirred in his stomach.

  As they chatted about their circle of friends, Pedro soon forgot about the butterflies. Although gossip was an obvious ice-breaker, they soon got bored with that.

  “Umm… what things do you like to do?” said Pedro, desperate to liven up their conversation.

  Carolina sighed, “Oh… there are so many things parents don’t allow girls to do… but I like dancing, reading, the movies…”

  “The movies? So do I – in fact, you remind me of Mary Pickford,” said Pedro.

  “Mary Pickford? You’re joking: I don’t have her curly hair,” said Carolina laughing.

  “But your eyes, your mouth, your nose… yes, I see Mary Pickford” said Pedro, but worried she’d suspect false flattery, comparing her to a pretty Hollywood actress.

  Carolina giggled, “And you, let’s see, you remind me of… Rodolfo Valentino.”

  Pedro pretended to grimace, “I don’t like that.”

  “Why not?” said Carolina.

  “Because he’s dead,” said Pedro, and both laughed loudly but, instinctively, looked around: was anyone staring at them?

  “Do you like studying, Pedro?” she asked.

  “Umm… I’m not really a good student. But I like reading: history, politics, current affairs… if I went to university I’d study law,” he said and, after a deep sigh, “but it’s unlikely I’ll ever go to university.”

  “Why not?” said Carolina.

  Pedro bit his lip and explained how his family had lost their mine during the war with Chile, so he’d have to find a job to subsist. Damn it, had he been too honest? Would Carolina despise him for being poor? Was the gulf between them too great, as his friend had said?

  But, instead of the frown he’d feared, she smiled and, seeing him sad, kept their conversation flowing:

  “I’d like to go to university too… but my father won’t let me,” she said.

  “Why? Because he thinks you should marry and have children, so you don’t need to go to university?” said Pedro. She nodded and sighed.

  “If I went to university, I’d also study law. But my mother says nobody would want to marry me – a wife cannot have an education and a career that challenges a man’s status and confidence,” she said with a wry smile, before continuing, “my parents’ marriage was arranged for them and they think that’s a good thing… but they don’t realise times are changing. I won’t marry unless I fall in love with someone.”

  Carolina suddenly looked at her watch and gasped, “I must go – my mother will get suspicious,” she said. Her trips to the corner shop never lasted more than a few minutes.

  He hated her going – he had to see her again. Same time tomorrow – they agreed.

  Once alone, Pedro sipped his Cola and smiled. She was as bright and intelligent as he’d expected. She was also romantic and spirited defending her ideals. She had strong opinions about many things and, so far, he agreed with most of them. And the ones he didn’t agree with amused him.

  Walking back home with her maid, Carolina felt confused. She’d agreed to meet Pedro out of curiosity – or perhaps amusement – but she’d enjoyed chatting to him. He was easy and open, without being presumptuous and trying to impress her. She was surprised how comfortable she’d been with him. Yes, why not, she’d like to meet him again.

  And they met again, and again – at the corner shop, sometimes very briefly in the square, but where else? Carolina’s maid was sworn to secrecy, but her mother or her aunt might suspect – why did she go to the corner shop so often? Her maid would be bursting to share the secret with other maids. Soon, everyone would know. Her friends wondered why she’d started biting her nice long nails.

  Carolina then had a great idea. One of her best friends was Carmen Forga, the daughter of a wealthy Spanish immigrant. Forga built a magnificent mansion on the coast, 100 kilometres from Arequipa, popularly known as ‘the Forga castle’.

  Two storeys high and crowned by a tower, it was built in the style of a European neo-gothic palace with its laced balustrades and tall pointed windows. Sitting on top of a small cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, its brightly colourful walls could be seen for miles down the coast. It resembled a gigantic egg yolk cake covered with marzipan icing sugar. Inside, it had intricately carved stained oak furniture imported from Europe and white-painted ornamental cornices and architraves framing every room. On the ground floor, a large dining room and dance floor lined with velvet-upholstered chairs under a gold gilded chandelier with sparkling Czech crystals, enough space for an orchestra and adjacent to soft sun-lit coffee rooms overlooking the sea. Above: equally well-appointed bedrooms and bathrooms for the hosts and guests. Outside: more modest accommodation for staff, servants and musicians, and store rooms for food, crockery and linen, plus a laundry and a huge fully equipped, always-buzzing kitchen.

  The Forga castle, close to a village of wooden shacks, was known to the local mestizo fishermen as ‘The White House’ due to the skin colour of the guests and the magnificent parties held there, gathering Arequipa’s upper class. Sometimes guests came from Lima, including government ministers and ambassadors, and even the daughters of mighty President Leguía, who arrived by sea to the nearby port of Mollendo. On occasions, music bands and e
ven meals were brought all the way from Lima’s splendid Hotel Bolivar.

  Carolina knew her parents wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to enjoy breaks at Forga castle. They’d even hope she’d meet the sons of those ministers and ambassadors. She didn’t need to be chaperoned – Forga castle would be safe enough.

  But Carolina and Pedro had different ideas – long walks along the beach hand-in-hand, lunching at a little fishing village, and Pedro even getting in to some of the amazing parties at Forga castle. He pretended to be a friend of Carmen Forga’s brother – both were sworn to secrecy about their friends’ illicit affair.

  Carolina worried that any Forga castle guests might recognise her – if they did, Pedro moved away, so nobody saw them together. They changed dinner tables and dancing partners – the French ambassador’s son; that arrogant young American businessman; even the nephew of President Leguía. Pedro burned inside and repressed his jealousy when Carolina accepted other invitations to dance – she was so pretty, all the young men surely wanted to conquer her. But she always came back to him and, only then, did the fire inside him die down.

  And another great party came. Pedro and Carolina danced until they were so thirsty they took a break and he went to get them some drinks. Carolina gasped – the Charleston was their favourite dance but was exhausting.

  At that moment, a lady in her fifties approached her.

  “Good evening, my dear. I thought I’d seen you before, in Arequipa. You’re a Piérola, aren’t you?” said the woman, enjoying the surprised look on Carolina’s face.

  “Err… yes, madam…”

  “You dance beautifully… and such a handsome dance partner too. Your fiancé, I presume…”

  “Umm… no… no, just a friend. Yes… you see, he’s a friend of Miguel Forga… and his sister Carmen is my friend… and so…”

  “Relax, my dear. No need to explain – I used to be young once, you know,” said the lady, as she departed with a sardonic smile. She’d been getting bored that evening but, now, she’d stumbled on some social gossip.

  “Who was that lady you were talking to?” said Pedro, when he rejoined her with their drinks.

  “Oh… nobody… just a lady who was bored and wanted a chat.”

  “She seemed to know you…” said Pedro.

  “No, she doesn’t” said Carolina, growling.

  “Okay, okay, don’t get angry… I was just asking…” said Pedro, putting his arm around her waist. But, when she pulled his arm away, he felt something was wrong.

  The following morning, after breakfast, Pedro and Carolina went for their habitual stroll along the beach, far from prying eyes of Forga castle guests. But this time, their usually lively, free, affectionate chatter was missing – Carolina was demure.

  Pedro looked into her eyes, “Okay, let’s have it… what’s up?”

  “What do you mean? No… nothing…” she said.

  “Carolina… I know you… was it that lady you were speaking to last night?”

  She sighed, and then nodded, “She… she’d seen me in Arequipa… she knew I was a Piérola.…She saw us dancing and… asked if you were my fiancé…”

  Pedro pursed his lips, “Shit… do you think she’ll tattle?”

  “I don’t know. She might know one of my aunts… or even my mother… Pedro, I’m scared,” she said.

  Pedro held her tight and kissed her forehead, “There’s no use worrying about it, my love. It’s out of our hands. We always knew the dangers, didn’t we?”

  But time went by and Pedro and Carolina continued enjoying their illicit affair: another party, another dance, another walk along the beach, and more brief encounters in the corner shop near Carolina’s house. They relished every meal or drink together, every stroke on the cheek, every kiss or just a look of love. As Pedro had said, there was no use worrying, so they didn’t.

  And more time went by until, one day, Carolina’s father stormed into her bedroom, his hair bristling like a wild animal.

  “Is it true? You’ve been seen with a young man called Pedro, Pedro something? What on earth do you think you’re doing? You’ve betrayed the family’s trust. Don’t you know what people will say if they find out? Nobody will want to marry you. It must stop: now.”

  Confronted by her father’s onslaught, Carolina held an impassive look, but then caved in, “Father, I love Pedro.”

  He exploded, shaking her shoulders, with his voice rising to an ear-throbbing shriek, whilst she found the strength to stare at him defiantly.

  She wouldn’t yield, so he played his final card, “If you don’t stop seeing this Pedro, something bad, very bad, will happen to him.”

  Carolina gasped – she was trapped. Sensing she’d given in, at last, he decided to give in a bit too. He loved his daughter and only wanted the best for her.

  “Carolina, my dear, nothing will happen to that boy. But he must go away. I’ll speak to his father. I’m told he’s an army officer. He’ll understand. The boy will want to study, to go to university. I’ll help him,” her father said.

  It sounded too good – Carolina knew there was something wrong.

  “But I won’t allow him to stay in Arequipa. The boy must go to study in Lima. I’ll pay him but he must never come back to Arequipa… and you must never see him again.”

  Carolina turned away from her father and burst into tears. She heard the bedroom door close as he left.

  “I’ve done my job – I’ve resolved the issue,” said Mr Piérola to his wife. She gave a deep sigh of relief, looked down and returned to her knitting. But he wasn’t going to let his wife get away so easily,

  “Why on earth didn’t you keep a closer eye on Carolina? How could she have an affair with this Pedro, this nobody, without her own mother, her aunt or even the servants knowing?… The servants – that’s it: they must have known… but Carolina told them to say nothing. By God, I’ll find out who’s to blame, I’ll sack them and send them back to their miserable village in the mountains. That’s the least they deserve. For Christ’s sake, aren’t there enough eligible young men from good families in Arequipa?”

  Mr Piérola didn’t need to lower himself speaking to Pedro. The matter would be resolved family to family. The Piérola with the, what were they called, Vargas? So, Mr Piérola summoned Major Gonzalo Vargas.

  “Your son had no right meeting, let alone courting, a young lady from the Piérola family. How did your boy even think of doing that? Who the hell does he think he is?” said Mr Piérola.

  Gonzalo Vargas kept a stony face as Mr Piérola informed him of his proposal, “I’ll pay for Pedro’s university studies in Lima and pay him a living allowance. Quite generous, don’t you think?… But Pedro mustn’t come back to Arequipa and must never see my daughter again.”

  Vargas listened in silence, looking at Piérola in the eye. Who did this snooty son-of-a-bitch think he was, telling him what his son should do and talking down to him like this? Yes, he was wealthy and his uncle had been president of Peru, but this didn’t mean he could order anyone what to do. A man shouldn’t be judged by what he had or by what his forefathers did, but by his honour. Yes, honour – did Piérola know what that meant? Hadn’t he learned that from his uncle? Vargas knew he couldn’t say all this, so he bit his lip instead.

  “Major, you haven’t said anything. Do we have an agreement?” asked Mr Piérola.

  “What if we don’t?” said Major Vargas, knowing full well what the answer was, but pressing Mr Piérola to spell it out.

  With his face turning from smirk to scowl, Mr Piérola walked to the window and then turned around to confront Major Vargas, “Listen, Vargas—”

  “… Major Vargas, please.”

  “Major Vargas… this isn’t the damn army, but you know I give the orders here, and you obey them.”

  Major Vargas just stood there, still biting his lip, fixing a
n increasingly defiant look on Mr Piérola.

  Piérola continued, “Your son can have a future, or maybe not. You can have a career in the army, or maybe not. You may be able to feed your family, or maybe… not. Is this clearer to you now, Major Vargas?”

  Major Vargas nodded, said, “Mr Piérola, have a good day,” and walked out.

  Gonzalo Vargas had to speak to Pedro as soon as possible. Bowing to Piérola’s orders was nauseating, but that’s how the world worked. It was odious his sons had to face these realities of life so young. Yes, life was tough. It wasn’t what they dreamed it would be. Pedro dreamed of being with Carolina but it was only that, a dream. Pedro would have to understand they had to do what the Pierola wanted. He meditated telling Pedro he’d soon get over it, he’d find another girl… no, hell, why shouldn’t Pedro and Carolina have each other if they wanted?

  Gonzalo was surprised when, without him needing much explanation, Pedro said, “Papa, I understand what Mr Piérola wants. If the heads of the Piérola and Vargas families have agreed, so be it.”

  Yet, Pedro didn’t tell his father that every couple of lovers must decide their own future – nobody else should decide for them. Not any more – the world was changing.

  And so, Pedro went to Lima, started studying law at the venerable Universidad de San Marcos and shared a modest ‘hostal’, or residence, in the centre of Lima with other students. And Carolina stayed in Arequipa.

  Time went by and the Piérola thought no more of the issue. Pedro didn’t return to Arequipa – they’d have soon found out. And Carolina had a busy social life with her friends: she was young, from a very good family, and wasn’t yet married. But Carolina was determined to live her own life whilst keeping her family happy, or ignorant.

  Chapter 6

  Nursing a headache, John was still recovering from the drinking in Guayaquil when Yolanda called him to come out of his cabin. In the distance, there was a thick column of black smoke and explosions.

  “We’re already in Peru. Look, that’s Talara…”