Santiago loved Fidel with such force and tenderness that life without him seemed impossible to imagine. Yet somewhere in his being flowed the spirit of adventure that had been an ancestral inheritance, one that had been responsible for their departures and explorations of uncharted regions that opened the Western World to new habitation. This sense of adventure pressed him onward and made him feel guilty for contemplating the desertion of his friend and lover, Fidel Timuco. For this reason, Santiago remained depressed for many days after departure and nothing seemed to be able to lift his spirit. Those final hours together saw each giving the other all that was possible to give. They entered each other many times and each left the other with a part of himself that bonded unquestioningly.
Their final embraces saw the dawn breaking over the eastern ridges of the Andes, forcing Santiago to leave before his father could notice that he had been gone all night. Neither spoke, their love having been pledged with passion. They held hands and they walked to the milepost where the road forked. Fidel watched his lover recede in the distance toward the rise of road where the Cali hacienda stood and wondered if it was the last he would see of Santiago, as he disappeared in the mist of the early mooring. Fidel sat by the road and cried.
Early on Saturday, the 16th of January, father and son loaded the few remaining possessions which had not been sold and drove the cart to the village to obtain a blessing from Padre Lipolito. The priest had given Don Emilio a letter of introduction addressed to Padre Juan Carlos, in San Francisco. He had traveled to Lima a few days before leaving, where he had been introduced to a sea captain who was purchasing goods for transport to the central countries and northern regions. Don Emilio signed the agreement for passage for a fraction of the cost of the voyage, having volunteered himself and his son as carpenters for the length of the journey. The captain felt fortunate to have such skilled craftsmen, as the ship’s carpenter had deserted him for the prospects of gold when they had been in San Francisco. It was common for entire crews to desert ships that anchored there. Some vessels never got unloaded after crews and captains alike became prisoners to the lure of treasure in the hills.
Entering Lima always amazed Santiago because the city’s blend of smells and sounds. The scent of the ocean had a distinct sharpness in the salt-tinged breezes that brought the ocean inland. He saw seabirds circling the bazaars and marketplaces, the largest of which was La Plaza de Armas. Most of the streets and alleys still showed signs of the recent quake. People slept wherever shelter from the elements could be found. As they passed along the road, some ran toward them with hands outstretched, begging for scraps of food or a few pesos. Santiago would have given them the few coins he had, had he not been instructed by his father to ignore the beggars.
The streets were filled with children, many of whom looked undernourished. As they passed through the city Santiago saw boys of his age and the hardness in their faces burned into his memory. He would recall these faces in the months to come when he would meet a different group of young boys who roamed the streets of a different city, for different reasons. For now it was enough to avoid the continued jeering of those they brushed against or pushed aside.
One pair of eyes he saw stood out from the rest, forcing him to remember the last moments of the previous evening with Fidel, when he had looked into his eyes and had seen love and sadness. Santiago was awed by the depth and intensity of the speech of eyes. When he returned his attention to boy in the street who so moved him, he could not find the one who has so thoroughly penetrated his soul and he wiped his eyes, hoping Don Emilio had not noticed the tears. He knew his father was wondering how long it would be before he changed his mind and insisted on returning to Santa Cecilia.
Don Emilio had noticed the spark or excitement and inquisitiveness; the curiosity that Santiago had shown for the new endeavor and prayed to the Virgin that the boy would become caught up in the adventure as much as himself.
“Father, who is this man with whom we are to sail? You have said little about him.”
Don Emilio was happy for the opportunity to talk. “His name is Captain Alvarez. He sails along the coast regularly to buy and sell goods. He told me that in the last few sailing’s there have been thousands who have done what we are doing. The Captain said he thought we were taking a great risk, but that the gold was well worth the effort.
“He can be helpful to us, Santiago. He knows many people in San Francisco. We should try to make him our friend.”
“I promise I will try, father. When will we sail?”
“We leave from Callao. Captain Alvarez hopes to have the vessel loaded and ready by Wednesday morning if the tide is good.”
“Father, what will we do if we have good fortune and find some of this gold? Will we return to Santa Cecilia?”
Don Emilio moved closer to his son. He held the reigns with one hand and put an arm around his son’s waist.
“You would want to come back to Peru?”
“I would have no reason to stay there once we found the gold. We would be rich. We could live well, could we not?”
“Indeed, son, we could live well! But first we must work very hard to find our riches. I have talked to some men who have been there. They tell me that becoming wealthy is something that only happens to a few.”
Don Emilio watched his son as they rode. The boy’s hair had been cut shorter, having forfeited the beautiful curls for a more manly style. Santiago’s face had become leaner since the quake and his mother’s death. His hands were bruised and callused from the heavy work they had done in preparation. Don Emilio looked more closely at Santiago’s hands and was proud of their strength, yet the fingers were long and delicate. These were the hands of an artisan and he felt guilty of depriving his son of the time he could have used to refine his skills. He saw a determination that would lead to success, in the boy’s eyes,. For a fleeting moment Don Emilio had a frightening premonition that he would never see his son achieve the hopes he held for him and fought an overpowering urge to turn back and abandon his plans, but then dismissed the foreboding as a sign of lack-of-faith; a weakness!
Plaza de Armas formed a wide expanse of openness flanked by the majesty of the Governor’s Palace on its western side, and the cathedral on the north. The lateness of the hour caused the setting sun to cast a golden hue against its masonry so that it looked as though made of the precious metal for which they had given up everything to find. Tall spires threw long shadows across the plaza, the ornate stonework made even more elaborate by the lighting.
Santiago was intrigued by the contrasts of the people he saw walking about. The time for siesta was ended and the streets had become alive with movement Don Emilio thought it bad luck not to stop and say a prayer for their success. He paid an old man to stand with the cart while they went in. Near the entrance, Don Emilio pointed to the tomb of the famous explorer, Pizarro, whose bones were alleged to be in the sepulcher. It had been Pizarro who had opened the area to domination by the Spanish throne. Entering the cavernous interior, Santiago was awed by the richness and luxury of the church. The aroma of incense and beeswax from a myriad of candles that had been lit in front of a profusion of statues, assaulted his senses and he felt himself in another world.
The columns and arches dwarfed them and only the larger-than-life statues prevailed in the church’s hugeness. Windows filtered the light with a variety of colors as the pattern of each tiny piece of leaded, stained glass was magnified against the floor. The cathedral’s opulence made him wonder why so much of what surrounding neighborhood reflected poverty and wretchedness. He found it hard to breathe and wanted to run out into the light and fresh air where he could regain the sense of freedom he felt had left behind upon entering the church.
The air was stifling. His father was deep in thought or prayer. Santiago turned to the cross that loomed above his head and had to step back and strain to see its entirety. The corpus was nailed to it with huge spikes that appeared unnecessarily large. Great care had been given
to detail and Santiago saw immediately the wonder in the piece, and he saw its brutality. The Christ-figure was twisted in pain and marked with the bruises of its flagellation. A cruel wound in the side bled, trailing blood along its hip and flank. The eyes were turned upward and inward, with the whites visible as though the figure were attempting to see the crown of thorns that had been set on its head, from which ran rivulets of blood carefully painted to flow down the face and shoulders.
Santiago was weakened by a churning in his stomach, repulsed by the gore of the piece. Yet he could not deny its heightened sexuality as he stared at the tensed and straining muscles of the thighs and stomach and its loincloth seductively draped. The statue had been carefully crafted to show an expression of ecstasy on its face, almost as though the Christ-figure were in the throes of an erotic experience. Santiago had seen similar expressions of intensity and excitement in Fidel when he had reached orgasm.
“Santiago, what is wrong with you? You look about ready to faint!”
Don Emilio caught his son as the boy’s legs gave way. Santiago turned and faced the rear of the church so as not to see the awful sight any longer.
“It is that!” He pointed over his shoulder, to the cross.
“Do not look at it, then. Look over there to the beautiful carvings along the ceiling. You could do work as fine as that!”
Santiago could not be persuaded to ignore the fact that almost all the faces on the statues and those of the people in the murals reflected sadness, despair, fear and terror. Only the faces of the baby angles showed happiness.
They knelt and prayed. Santiago asked forgiveness for his sins and for good fortune on the coming journey. He asked Santa Cecilia to give Fidel her protection and keep him well, and for her intercession in their return.
The cart made its way along the narrow streets and its wheels scraped the sides of buildings. Don Emilio guided them carefully until he found the merchant to whom he had consigned the supplies they had brought. The man followed them with a list in hand and checked all items against those listed. He counted the money carefully, laying each bill in the palm of Don Emilio’s hand and asked that the voucher be signed. The cart was sold with the rest.
On their way to the inn they walked past the many shops windows in which Santiago saw things he had not noticed on his previous journeys. With Fidel, he had always gone directly to the inn and they had spent all the time together, in the room. Seldom had they ventured far in the city, not willing to give up their time to anything but their lovemaking. So for Santiago, this journey was almost like his first.
Each carried his own bundle of clothing and a few personal items that would need for the night. All other possessions had been packed in a large trunk that the merchant had agreed to deliver to the ship on the following day.
Don Emilio and his son arrived at the inn by nightfall. The innkeeper offered a warm hearth and hot broth when he saw that they were chilled by the cold dampness of the evening. After the meal, they were taken to the room they would share. Santiago fell asleep as soon as he lay down. Don Emilio, seeing his son safely tucked into bed, decided to go back to the cantina and drink a little wine to help him sleep.
After his father left Santiago opened his eyes, aware of familiar smells and sounds of the world outside his window, recalling the same sensations at other times when his lover had laid by his side and he was filled with a sense of overwhelming loneliness. He refused to relent to the tears and forced his mind to see Fidel’s face and wondered what he might be doing at the same moment. His hand traveled to the hardness between his legs and he recalled the many times they had made love. After he felt the urge and the thrill spread throughout his loins, the orgasm subsided and without awareness, he fell asleep.
Don Emilio entered the room some time later to find the lantern’s glow illuminating the naked body of his son and he saw his son for the first time, in new light. Santiago’s hand still clasped his penis and dried semen covered his legs and stomach. Don Emilio stood quietly looking at him. The boy was beautiful – more beautiful than he had realized. Santiago had lost the excessive flesh of youth and his body had hardened. He was surprised at the size of Santiago’s penis as it had not occurred to him that his son had reached manhood so soon. He saw that Santiago was capable of experiencing emission and he thought back to the time of his own boyhood when he had done the same thing. Don Emilio carefully brought the covers over his son’s body and touched his cheek with his lips. Santiago awoke barely enough to realize his father had returned and moved to make room for him in the bed. Santiago snuggled closer, laying his head on his father’s arm and with great comfort, drifted off to sleep once more.
Morning broke to a sound of knocking on the door. The innkeeper announced that someone was waiting for them. They dressed quickly and found Captain Alvarez seated in the dining room, by an open window.
Introductions were made over coffee as Captain Alvarez explained their duties. He took note of the boy, happy that he was a health and well built. Santiago looked as if he was accustomed to work. After breakfast they followed Captain Alvarez to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Men were busily loading wagons with a cargo of cotton, llama fleece, coffee beans, fuel wood, and ingots of copper and iron ore. Father and son helped with the fifteen remaining wagons to be loaded that would travel to Callao, there to be transferred to the vessel that awaited them for the journey that would eventually end in California. The men were friendly and soon all were sweating, laughing, and swearing loudly as the work progressed.
On the way to Callao they sang songs that made Santiago blush, for he was not accustomed to such language in the presence of his father. Don Emilio thought of raising an objection but decided the boy needed to adjust to such talk as it would likely occur throughout the coming months. These men were not about to change their ways because of a boy, and it was time that Santiago learned about the world. He could make his own decision of the degree to which he would participate.
By the end of the long journey Santiago was covered with the dirt of the road and was barely distinguishable from the other men. He had joined them in their ribald humor once he saw that his father would not object. Like the others, Santiago called to the many señoritas who walked the road and although his suggestive comments were enjoyed by the other men, Santiago did not put heart in them, his eyes seeking the faces and backsides of the handsome peasant boys. This interest was not lost on the Captain. He had noted the boy’s wily smile and alluring eyes, and had seen men and boys on the road who had returned Santiago’s gaze. It promised to be a pleasant sailing!
CHAPTER FIVE
Although Callao was no more than ten miles away, the journey took four hours. Because of the heavy loads, the wagons moved slowly. Much of the road was downhill and speed at which they moved had to be reduced and kept in check so that the momentum would not cause any of the wagons to go out of control. The city could be seen from several miles away as they began the descent and as they approached, Santiago saw the masts of ships in the harbor. Even from the hills he could smell the acrid scent of drying fish and rotting timbers of the waterfront. Gulls were everywhere, scavenging the waste left by fishermen.
Santiago had traveled most of the way with Captain Alvarez, who had suggested this so they could get to know each other. He was a tall man by Spanish standards. His skin was tanned and weather-beaten, with an olive complexion that made his dark eyes seem particularly sensual. Santiago had liked the man immediately because he had not ordered his men about but had asked them to do what needed to be done. He gave each man respect and it was considered one of his admirable qualities. There was a gentleness and kindness about him that attracted the boy.
Captain Alvarez showed his concern by asking Santiago about his family and about his likes and interests. He asked him what the boy intended to do about his future and made Santiago feel important and worthy by giving him his ear. Santiago could not take his eyes from Captain Alvarez’s hands and found them rugged and
graceful. He was attracted to the man’s chest and by the dark hairs that exploded at the throat of the open blouse. In the middle of this patch of hair, was a patch of almost-white that intrigued him. Although the Captain’s face was angular and plain, the expressive eyes were so gentle that the boy thought him handsome.
Captain Alvarez threw his head back and laughed at some of Santiago’s questions regarding the anticipated experiences.
“Do not look so offended, Santi. I do not laugh at you. I laugh at how wonderful it is to see a boy so filled with innocence and adventure.”
Santiago was not sure he liked the shortened version of his name. Only Fidel had called him that. But after the man had said it a number of times he grew accustomed to it. By the time they arrived in Callao most of the crew was calling him by the name as though its use had marked a new beginning.
It took two days to load the cargo and tie it down as a precaution against high seas. Once the work was completed the men were released for the remainder of the evening. Most made their way to the town’s taverns and whorehouses. The ship’s deck was crowded with passengers unable to afford the luxury of cabins or interior quarters. The hardships of such a sailing was little compared to the hopes of what they expected to realize when they arrived in the land of California
Santiago spent his time on deck, fascinated by the many people who, like him, were embarking on an experience of which they knew little but what they had been told. There, he met a boy from Callao who explained that he always met the ships because so many of the crew enjoyed the company of boys instead of women and with them, he made a good wage selling himself. This was disclosed after the boys had spent some time together. Without knowing that Santiago was a maricon, the boy confided in him that he might be able to earn a few pesos on the journey. He took Santiago aside and with a bottle of wine they shared that had been payment for his services, he informed him that he had serviced the Captain regularly whenever he was in port. Santiago was not surprised, as he had suspected the man of that inclination.
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