“Except for money.”
“Money!” the black boy exclaimed. “It should never have been invented. My papa said it makes slaves of everyone!”
“But you have to have it.”
Marlowe cried, “If people had the sense to live naturally, they wouldn’t need it! In such impossible quantities, I mean.”
“Look,” said Black Luis, “if I treat this place right, it will give me money. It grows everything—oranges, limes, grapefruit, bananas, coconuts, mangoes, plantains, guavas, papayas, sapodillas, yes, and breadfruit even. And if all those fail me, I can get money from the sea. Right out there.” He waved his arm. “Standing on the beach. I don’t need a boat. The water is deep a few feet out. Very deep. It is so deep the Cristobal Colón could come right in and tie up at the sea grape tree where Nicky Robles leaves my mail.”
“Really?”
“It is true. It is a valley, submerged. Two big vessels could come in there. And all the best fish around can be caught from the beach—snapper, grouper, bonito.…”
Ronnie swung his feet to the floor and started to get up. Instead he sat thoughtfully on the edge of the cot, and again went over in his mind all that Black Luis had told him. He was almost certain now that he knew the answers to two important questions. Maybe three.
But knowing the truth, he realized, didn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t stop Bernardo, and it didn’t help Ana María Rosalita in the slightest. But first things first. If he could prove one of the answers—the truth about Black Luis’ citizenship—it might save their hiding place for a while and give them time to make further plans.
But the very first thing of all was to get Ana María Rosalita safely away from Bernardo’s house.
He wished they could take a few extra days to scout the place, but a delay might be dangerous. What if the Señora decided to return to Santo Domingo earlier than expected?
He decided they had better go after Ana María Rosalita early tomorrow evening.
A glance at his wristwatch told him that Black Luis and Marlowe wouldn’t be back for at least an hour, for it was hardly past midnight. He got up and went to the table, and touched the money he had spread out upon it to dry. The afternoon’s deluge had soaked through his billfold and dampened everything in it. The bills were still damp. Reluctantly he left them as they were, and hoped that Black Luis wouldn’t come back too soon and discover them.
Turning away, he caught sight of his zipper bag lying open on the floor at the foot of the cot. He got out his copy of Time and Duality, then tried to adjust the lantern so he could see to read. The lantern, he discovered, was almost out of oil. He soon found that all the other lanterns, as well as the several lamps, were empty. Frowning, he got his flashlight from the shelf where Black Luis had left it, and went in search of a fuel can.
He located the can and a rusty funnel in a storage niche just past the kitchen area. It was a small can, and he was dismayed to feel the lightness of it when he picked it up. Hardly a pint of oil remained in it. As he remembered what Ana María Rosalita had told him, he realized that anyone without money for stamps would hardly have enough for necessities.
Very carefully, so as not to spill a drop, he filled the lantern. But instead of turning up the wick, he lowered it until it gave barely enough light to see by. The remaining oil in the can would have to be rationed. Only Nicky Robles could safely buy more fuel for them, and that might take time.
It was thirst as much as curiosity that drew him into the rear passage when he found there was no water to drink in the kitchen area. After some fifty feet he stopped abruptly, surprised to see a flight of steps curving upward on the right. He was tempted to climb them, for as he played the light over them he could feel a steady draught of rising air; evidently the stairway acted as a ventilator, and led to some opening higher on the mountain.
Then, faintly, he heard water running somewhere ahead.
A few feet farther on he came to more steps cut into the rock, but these led downward. He descended for a short distance into a circular room where three small pools, raised above the floor and fed by a tiny spring dripped one into the other and flowed away in a narrow trench. The trench ended in a dark fissure in the floor that probably carried the drainage out to sea.
Ronnie glimpsed the carvings on the wall and guessed that the Indians, long ago, must have used this chamber and its pools for some sort of religious purpose. The place certainly solved a lot of problems now. A cake of soap, a towel, and a blackened cooking pot by the lower pool indicated its present use. Beside the upper pool was a pewter mug, inviting one to drink.
It was the best water he had ever tasted. He washed in the middle pool and, refreshed, returned to his cot in the main part of the cave.
He did not feel in the least sleepy, and his intention was to put the money away as soon as it was dry, and think about Dr. Prynne’s equations until Black Luis and Marlowe returned. He had never tried working any of the equations in his head. But, with his memory, there seemed to be no reason why he couldn’t. Especially that last one, where he thought he had found a mistake.
Tonight, however, it was impossible to concentrate. New questions, and unanswered old ones, kept rising in his mind. Along with big questions, like the mystery of the mango, little ones clamored for solution. How did so much large furniture ever get into a place with such a small entrance? And what sort of creature was it that kept calling co-kee! co-kee!? Even in here he was aware of the countless voices that shook the dark outside.
The furniture, of course, must have been brought in through a larger opening, one now sealed over. And the night chorus, could it be that some kind of frog was making it?
But what of the mango?
It struck him suddenly that Dr. Prynne himself would have been mightily interested in where that mango came from.
He was still wondering about it when he fell asleep.
The unmistakable sound of men’s voices, coming from somewhere near, jerked Ronnie awake.
He sat up quickly. The lantern still cast its feeble glow upon the table, but from a narrow recess in the wall beyond it came a shaft of pale daylight. Black Luis was standing there motionless, listening.
Ronnie swung off the cot and crept close. Seeing him, the black boy put a finger to his lips and pointed to a long, narrow crack extending at an angle through the rock at the back of the recess. Ronnie slipped into the place and put his eyes to the crack.
He was astonished to discover that he was looking down upon the flat shelf of rock where he had met Black Luis last evening. Almost directly below, hardly twenty feet away, two men were moving uncertainly about, talking.
One man, who wore the cap of an official, muttered, “See yonder? Someone’s been here. They built a fire in that corner.”
“Don Bernardo did that,” the other grumbled.
“What for?”
“Oh, we found a pile of wood up here he thought the Luis boy might be using, so he burned it along with the house.”
“That Luis boy has really upset him. I wonder why?”
“Don’t ask me. I just do as I’m told.”
“Well, it’s none of my business. My job is to catch the boy and deport him. Are there any more trails around here, and places to hide?”
“Not unless you’re a mongoose. I’ve been all over this little mountain. It is full of holes, but there are none big enough to put your head in.”
“Well, we’d better leave a man around to keep watch while we search over the ridge. The Luis boy may come back. Maybe after dark.”
“You won’t get anyone to stay here after the sun goes down.”
“Why not?” the official asked sharply.
“The place is haunted.”
“Nonsense!”
“Ask anyone around here! Every soul I know will tell you the same thing. If you come here in the evening, a voice will float all about you and warn you to leave. I have heard it myself.”
“There must be a rational explanation for s
uch a phenomenon.”
“I’ve given you a rational explanation. The place is haunted. If you do not believe in the truth of such things, then you’re not rational.”
“Well, I’ve always said the spirits of the indios are still around. Perhaps we’d better leave.”
Ronnie watched the men start down through the heavy growth, then glanced at Black Luis.
The black boy was grinning. “My grandpapa fixed this place. There was another entrance here once, but he changed it. I don’t know how. It was long, long ago. He was a stoneworker, and very clever. Can you smell fish cooking?”
“No. Why?”
“I am cooking those I caught last night. In the stone oven my grandpapa built. But you cannot tell it because the smell goes up, up, high into the mountain. I think maybe the limestone cleans it. Outside I have climbed all the way to the mountain’s top, and sniffed the holes where the air comes out. But I cannot smell fish when I cook them. My grandpapa was a smart man.”
As he turned, the black boy’s attention was caught by the money that still covered the table. He stiffened. “¡Madre!” he muttered. “So much wealth! I saw it last night when I came. Take it away!”
“We share and share alike,” said Ronnie. “Part of it is yours.”
“No! I want nothing to do with it. Money is evil.”
“There’s nothing evil about that money. I earned it. Every penny of it. If you earned five dollars by selling some fish, you wouldn’t call it evil, would you?”
“No, but there are thousands and thousands yoner—”
“Yes,” Ronnie agreed, his mind working as swiftly as it had ever worked. “And if you’d sold thousands and thousands of fish, you’d have a pile just like it, and it would be just as evil. What’s more, we’re going to need every dollar of it before we’re through. You’re in trouble. I’m in trouble. Ana María Rosalita is in trouble. This money’s going to help us all.”
“I don’t see how. I’d rather put my faith in some other things.”
“How do you mean?”
“If Ana María Rosalita were here, she’d tell you. She may be young and small, but she is a great hechicera. As a worker of spells, I’ve never seen her equal.”
Oh, golly, thought Ronnie. Here we go again. But quickly he said, “I’ve been thinking about her. We’ve got to go and get her. Tonight.”
Black Luis nodded slowly. “I’ve been thinking of her too. She must leave there tonight. Tomorrow may be too late. But Marlowe and I will get her. You’d better stay here.”
“Nothing doing! From what you’ve told me of that place, you and Marlowe can’t manage it alone. I’m going.”
“But you’re so pale. Your face and your hair. If someone sees you—and they will—”
“I’ll rub soot or something over me.” Ronnie paused, scowled at the money, then asked, “Where’s Marlowe? I—I’ve got to talk to him.”
“He went outside to check on those fellows.”
Ronnie began picking up the bills on the table. He was tucking them away in his billfold when Marlowe’s sharp voice sounded in the darkness of the entrance.
“¡Marinero!” he called excitedly. “More men have come! Look down on the beach.”
The black boy whirled to the recess and pressed his face to the crack in the rock. Ronnie slipped in beside him and did the same. Their narrow window on the world afforded a clear view, not only of the shelf below, but of the sea grape tree beyond the foot of the mountain, and the scrap of beach to the left of it.
Two men were setting up a tripod above the beach. Several others had paused near the sea grape and were studying what seemed to be a chart. It took only a glance for Ronnie to realize what was happening.
“They are surveyors and builders,” he said.
“Surveyors!” Black Luis echoed. “Builders! But—but why? What—”
“You’ve got deep water here,” Ronnie said slowly. “Don’t you realize what that means?”
“But—but there’s deep water all around the island.”
“Not up as close as this, in a place that’s protected. I’ll bet some company wants to build a factory here.”
“A—a factory?”
“Yes. And not just an ordinary one, either, if they plan to bring their own ships in here. It’ll have to be huge.”
“No!” the black boy whispered. “No! I won’t have it!”
“If you can prove you own the land,” Ronnie reminded him, “it’s your chance to get rich.”
“But he’s rich now!” Marlowe exclaimed. “Unless you’re talking about money—and mere money couldn’t buy what this place gives him.”
“It sure couldn’t,” Black Luis muttered. “But how am I going to keep it? Even if Ana María Rosalita helps me, I—I can’t fight them all.”
Ronnie said, “Sure you can. Didn’t you ever hear of fighting fire with fire?”
“What’s fire got to do with it? I don’t dig you, Blue Boy.”
“We’ll start with that money you saw on the table. It may be evil, but we’ll need it to get the fire going. Bernardo’s using the law to drive you off and get rid of you. So we’ll use the law to drive him off.”
“But—”
“Just a moment. I’ve got to know one thing. When you were in Santo Domingo, did Don Carlos ever change your citizenship?”
“Not that I know.”
“Did you ever sign your name to any piece of paper having to do with citizenship?”
“Ha! I never signed my name to anything. Why should I? I was just another black boy named Luis. Don Carlos said I was the blackest Luis he’d ever known, and he’d known lots. He always called me Black Luis. It was a joke between us. You see, my real name is Black. Luis Black. It’s on the records here. But in Santo Domingo I was just a black boy who hung around doing odd jobs, and who spoke the same language all the other boys spoke. Nobody ever asked me where I came from.”
“Why were you doing odd jobs? I thought you went there to work for Don Carlos.”
“And that’s just what I did. I was his spy.”
Ronnie stared at him. “His spy?”
“Sure. With Marlowe’s help.”
Marlowe said, “Somebody had to find out what wickedness was going on behind his back. That was our job. ¡Madre! We found out.”
“And just in time,” Black Luis added. “I’d sure hate to be sent back. They know me now. They’d cut my throat. And if they got their dirty hands on Ana María Rosalita …” He shook his head.
“You won’t be deported,” Ronnie told him. “The law’s on your side. I’m sure I can prove it.”
“How?”
“I’ll explain it tomorrow, after I’ve been to Mayagüez.”
“Mayagüez! But you can’t—”
“I’ve got to go, and as soon as possible. But not till we get Ana María Rosalita here. So we’d better start figuring how we’re going to manage it. Have either you or Marlowe been inside Las Alturas?”
“I’ve been in it,” the black boy said slowly. “But I don’t know it too well. Marlowe, he’s been all over it.”
Ronnie, his lip clenched between his teeth, turned and searched the dark corner of the cave. “Marlowe,” he begged, “please come out. We—we’ve got to get acquainted. It’ll take all three of us to get Ana María Rosalita out of that place, but the biggest job is yours.”
“I know it,” Marlowe muttered. “I’m the only one who can get in Las Alturas without being seen.”
“Then please come out and help us draw a plan of the place.”
Marlowe did not answer. Black Luis said, “He’s shy.”
“And I don’t blame him,” said Ronnie. “Marlowe, I’d feel the same way if I were in your place. But honest, I think of you as one of us, and that’s all that matters. Marlowe, please …”
Marlowe said sharply, “How can a ghost possibly show himself?”
“But you’re not a ghost! I’ve already guessed what you are. So why keep hiding?”
�
��You—you’ve guessed?” said Marlowe in a small voice. But almost instantly he exclaimed, “Oh, fiddle-dee-pooh! You’ve outsmarted yourself, Blue Boy. You couldn’t know. Or would you be stringing me?”
“I’m not stringing you. I’ve figured it out. You’re about the rarest thing on earth. You’re a—”
“Don’t say it!” Marlowe screeched. “Think it if you wish. But don’t ever, ever say it!”
“But why—”
“Because you’ll destroy my integrity. That’s why. I won’t be me anymore. I’ll just be something you’ve classified, like a bird or a bug. I simply won’t have it. You must accept me as I am, and stop prying.”
“But I have accepted you,” Ronnie insisted.
“Yes, but you’re still prying to see if you’re right—and you could be wrong. I could be many things besides what you think, including a disembodied voice. How does that grab you, Mr. Smarty?”
Ronnie swallowed. “Okay. You win. I—I’ll play it any way you want, Marlowe. But please help us.”
“Of course I’ll help! I know the inside of Las Alturas better than that rascally Bernardo will ever know it. Get a pencil and some paper and I’ll tell you exactly how to draw the plan of it. But before we get started, let’s have some breakfast. I can’t think on an empty stomach, and neither can you.”
Black Luis grinned and said, “Breakfast on the way, compañeros.”
Oranges and some generous pieces of freshly baked plantain and fish, served on banana leaves, speedily appeared on the table. A smaller piece of fish and half of a peeled orange were placed on another section of banana leaf and left in the angle of the kitchen.
All this, in the strangeness of the cave, was beginning to seem utterly mad and unworldly to Ronnie until he sat down at the table with paper and pencil. Then once again he found himself staring at his half-eaten mango.
Flight to the Lonesome Place Page 9