by Emily Asad
Chapter 14: The Great Fire
Traveling in the ship was downright luxurious compared to hiking in the jungle. In fact, it was so peaceful that it sometimes made Sebastian nervous. There were no jaguars, no poisonous spiders, no cannibals. There were still mosquitoes, but not as many. There was no need to worry about losing any more of his livestock, either. Sebastian was constantly alert for a mutiny, thinking that the crew would try to kill him or Arazunú, but they were so afraid of dying from poison that they did not even speak to the boys.
The new Santa Clara did not have sufficient feed for the animals, so they had to stop twice a day to let the animals graze and drink water. Arazunú also collected his antidote during this time to give to the crewmembers after each meal. Aside from the daily stops, they made remarkable progress toward Asunción. It was a relief to travel so smoothly after having had to cut through the jungle weeds and overgrown brush.
Although the boys were not allowed anywhere near the preparation of food, nobody suspected the plates. Sebastian and Arazunú continued ‘washing’ dishes after each meal, and then administering the antidote to alleviate the cramps. For the first time since arriving in the New World, Sebastian let himself relax. Their plan had succeeded.
“How much longer to Asunción?” asked Arazunú.
“Not much longer,” Sebastian replied. He groomed his stallion and smiled. “What a wonderful life, now.”
“Because you’re getting your revenge, or because you’re going to your father?”
“Both. I’ll be honest, though, it’s not so much revenge as it is satisfaction. They’re finally going to get justice for taking things from innocent people. They’ll finally be locked away where they can’t hurt society anymore.”
“Your father will be surprised. He probably thinks you’re dead.”
“At least you got to rescue yours.” He stopped grooming the horse. “What are you going to do when you get back home?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time. Five years, I think. I was so young when I left…”
“They’ll still recognize you. Will you get your position back as future chief?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I was thinking…” Arazunú’s voice trailed off.
“You want to join me in Asunción.”
“Maybe. I want to see my people first, see if I still belong. If not, then where else can I go?”
“You’re always welcome at my father’s house,” Sebastian said, warmth in his voice. “I have no doubt that you’ll be of great help to the colonists. Not everybody has your skill with languages, you know.”
“Thank you. I have a surprise for you, for when you meet my father.”
“Really? What is it?”
“I can’t tell you now, but it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time. I have no use for it, and neither do my people.”
“I can’t wait to find out what it is. It will be like Christmas.” Sebastian heaved a small sigh. It was already February. He had missed Christmas this year; it was just another day of walking and trying to survive as his days blended together.
“What is Christmas?”
Sebastian spent the next twenty minutes explaining the story of Jesus’ birth and why it was important even though it happened so long ago. Arazunú loved stories and listened attentively to this one, asking questions frequently.
Sebastian had just finished his story when they were interrupted by Rodrigo.
“The captain says you should come up. There’s something you might need to see.”
“Be right there.” Sebastian replaced the counting sticks and currycomb, said goodbye to his horses, and followed Rodrigo.
Off in the distance was a thick, tall pillar of black smoke. It looked like someone had lit a very large pile of leaves. Or like someone was trying to burn down a village – or a colony!
“Is that Asunción?” Sebastian asked, his nose tingling at the acrid scent of smoke.
Santino nodded. “There may be none of it left by the time we get there. We’re an hour away.”
“What happened?”
“Who knows? There are so many ways to burn a town. Somebody’s cow might have knocked over a lantern. Somebody’s child might have been careless. Maybe there’s an Indian attack. I wanted you to see it for yourself. There’s probably nothing left, Sebastian,” and Santino closed his hand on Sebastian’s arm, “which means that you may as well forget turning us over to the authorities.”
Sebastian brushed away Santino’s hand. “Getting cold feet now that justice is so close?”
“I’d rather die a free man than die in prison.”
“The deal was that you take me to Asunción. All the way to Asunción.” He gritted his teeth. “If it’s not there, then we’ll talk about new terms.”
An hour later, they were able to see the effects of the devastating fire, as well as the reason for it – Asunción was under attack by Indians. There were hundreds of men fighting! They were everywhere, in the water, on the land. The wooden walls around the fort had burned down, leaving the city exposed. Women and children hauled water in buckets, trying desperately to save what had already burned to the ground. There were bodies everywhere, some wounded, many dead.
Asunción was located on a peninsula, so the only land access was well-guarded. But the Indians were adept at maneuvering in their canoes, so the waterfront attack was also taking its toll. Even so, the water attack was mostly on the far side of the peninsula, so the Santa Clara would be relatively safe in docking.
Santino refused to let the ship get any closer, so they waited a short distance from the harbor for almost two hours until the attack drew to a close.
“Let’s go,” said Sebastian. “There’s nothing else to wait for. Unless you’re trying to avoid prison?”
“Bad time to dock,” shouted Santino.
“Do it,” growled Sebastian. “The Indians are on the other side. We’re safe for now.”
Cursing under his breath, Santino issued the orders to dock the Santa Clara. When the gangplank was settled, Sebastian ran down to find the harbormaster.
He was greeted by a tall, powerful man with commanding eyes. “Halt and be recognized,” the man growled, pointing a rifle at Sebastian’s heart.
“Sebastian Segovia, sir, son of Raúl Segovia. I’ve captured the pirates who stole the Santa Clara, and I brought the Santa Clara home. And I have some papers to deliver from the captain. But mostly I just want to find my father.”
The tall man narrowed his eyes. He had just been preparing a small group of men for a final attack on the Indians. He issued an order to them and they left. “We were under attack. Worst one yet.”
“There have been other attacks?”
“Ever since that fake governor Cabeza de Vaca came here, we’ve had nothing but trouble from the Indians! I was doing so well. People were happy, we were prosperous. Now he’s managed to get everything I worked for burned to the ground.”
“You… you’re Domingo Irala!” gasped Sebastian. “Governor Irala! My father adores you! He says you’re the best governor a man could hope to have, that you’re fair and honest and very brave, and that-“
“Whoa, kid! You’re making me blush. Who did you say your father was?”
“Don Raúl Segovia. He’s one of Juan de Salazar’s men.”
“His name sounds familiar. But we can’t stand here talking. It’s not safe for you to stay; there may be a few renegades left. Unload quickly – I’ll take you to a secure place.”
“There are a few problems, sir. My cargo is actually pirates, and they need to be taken to the prison immediately.”
The tall man tilted his helmet on his head and got a better look at the tall, broad-shouldered young man standing in front of him. “What did you say your name was?”
“Sebastian Segovia.”
“And you’re transporting pirates?”
“They’re kind of transporting themselves. They think I poisoned them.”
“Did yo
u?”
“Oh, no! But they think I did. I actually gave them something to make their stomachs cramp for a few minutes. I just put a few drops on their plates every meal, and then they think I give them a tea to help make them better. But don’t tell them that. As long as they think they’re poisoned, they’re loyal and harmless.”
The man snorted. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Well, let’s not stand here, Sebastian. Let’s get you and your crew to a better place.”
“And my livestock, sir.”
“Livestock? They will be welcome. Most of our animals – especially the pigs – burned to death. This fire has been going since late last night. We don’t have much left.”
Irala followed Sebastian up the gangplank. While Arazunú and Sebastian were unloading the animals, Irala addressed the crew. “Your captain tells me that you’re criminals in need of lodging and daily antidote. Right now I’m in need of a clean-up crew. You’ll be rebuilding the town, cleaning up messes, and burying bodies. If you don’t want to work, then you’ll be escorted directly to prison. The warden won’t prepare your antidote, but I’ll guarantee that anyone who volunteers to help our town will receive my personal help in return. What are your decisions?”
Everybody opted to work. There were grumbles and complaints, of course, what choice did they have? Prison meant dying from poison; if they worked, at least, they would live.
“Follow me, then, men,” said Irala, and led the way down the gangplank. A short time later, Sebastian joined him.
“Ready, sir,” he said, leading his mare and stallion.
“Follow me, then,” the ex-governor replied. He began walking toward some stone buildings – the only type of building that survived the great fire. “You remind me of someone. You said your name was Sebastian Segovia? Son of Raúl Segovia?”
“Yes, sir. Did you know my father?”
“Ah! You’re talking about Spitfire Segovia! Sandy brown hair, big laugh, prefers tea to beer?”
“That’s him! Where is he? I’ve waited all this time to see him.”
Irala stopped walking and looked at the boy in amazement. “But you were on the Santa Clara when she was captured. Everybody thought you were dead, son. Cabeza de Vaca and Father Gustavo were on that ship and it took them weeks to reach Spanish hands. They told us you drowned in an attempt to escape.”
“Nah, didn’t drown. It was the thought of seeing my father all this time that kept me going. I would have died, several times, but I just couldn’t let him think… well, I was much younger when he saw me last, and I think I’ve always disappointed him.”
“So for four months you’ve been looking forward to seeing him. I hate to tell you this, son, but he’s not here.”
“Not here? Where is he?”
Irala’s voice dropped, soft and sad. “Gone. He got silver fever about a month ago and took several of my best men with him.”
“But…”
“When he heard that you were dead, it just took all the spirit out of him. He said there was nothing worth living for anymore.”
Tears threatened to splash onto Sebastian’s cheeks. He gulped hard.
“I’m sorry son. You’re welcome to go to the house - your house now, if it didn’t burn.” He pointed down a street and gave some directions that would lead to the house. “First let’s get your livestock sheltered. If I recall correctly, your father’s barn was wooden like everything else here. We’ll have to do something about that in the future – maybe pass a law that all houses must be built of stone or brick or something.” He pursed his lips, thinking.
“Governor! Governor!” A burly man with reddish cheeks ran over to where the group was standing.
“Your governor is Cabeza de Vaca now, Cuevas. How many times do I have to remind you?”
“You’ll always be my governor,” said Cuevas. “Anyway, that pig-headed fake needs you now. He says the Indians are demanding some sort of truce.”
Irala turned to Sebastian. “You know where you’re going now, I hope. I’ll take your pirates with me and check in on you later. There’s a reward for their capture, you know, and another reward for the safe return of the Santa Clara. You’re going to be a fairly wealthy young man.”
Sebastian shrugged, struggling to control his emotions. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help.”
When the men were out of sight, Arazunú said, “I’m sorry about your father.”
A tear flowed down Sebastian’s cheek. He blinked, and the other tear spilled as well. “Let’s get these animals sheltered. One thing at a time, right?” He looked at his friend. “I just… I can’t…” He sucked in his breath sharply. “Look out!”
A soldier aimed his rifle at Arazunú, thinking the Indian boy was one of the hostiles. Most of the friendly Guarani dressed in ‘civilized’ clothes adopted from the Spaniards, so Arazunú’s traditional loincloth announced him as an outsider. The rifle discharged.
Sebastian knocked his friend out of the way. The bullet ripped into his side. He fell on the red dirt and lay there, gasping.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” called Arazunú, dropping to Sebastian’s side. “Sebastian, hold still. Can you hear me? Sebastian?”
Sebastian offered a weak smile and then sagged into unconsciousness.