Horacio Castellanos Moya - Tyrant Memory

Jimmy glances at his pocket watch: it’s five to three.

“At this rate we’ll be there before eight,” Jimmy guesses.

The canoe glides over the water with only the merest hint of swaying.

Clemen lets go of the boat with his right hand, takes a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, and with a practiced move pulls one out with his lips. Then he takes some matches out of his trouser pockets.

“You can let go,” Jimmy tells him. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not going to be able to light it with one hand.”

“I’m not afraid,” Clemen says irritably. He lets go with the other hand.

But the wind is interfering with his efforts to light the cigarette. Jimmy leans over to help him shield the match with his cupped hands.

Clemen smokes, relaxed.

“Have you been to Cosigüina many times?” he asks Jimmy.

Jimmy says yes and assures him they will be warmly welcomed; two of his best friends, officers who graduated with him in Fort Riley, are stationed at that base.

“Now I feel like a whiskey,” says Clemen, and he asks the guide to pass him his knapsack.

“Careful you don’t get seasick,” Jimmy warns him.

Clemen stares at him, annoyed.

“Too bad we don’t have any ice,” he says as he takes out the bottle.

At that moment, a gust of wind makes the canoe shudder and begin to lurch.

“It’s getting choppy,” the guide says.

Clemen puts the bottle back in his knapsack and again grabs hold of the side of the boat. Another gust, stronger than the previous one, carries Clemen’s hat off into the waves.

“Shit, what was that!?”

The guide is trying to maneuver the sail, which is now being slammed with one gust after another.

“Strange wind, with clear skies and no storm in sight,” Jimmy says as he gets up to help the guide.

The canoe rocks back and forth with each blast.

The sea has suddenly gotten very rough: the waves slam against the sides, sending walls of water into the boat.

The oarsmen are rowing with more effort.

“Is this a current?” Clemen asks, his face ashen, unable to hide his fear.

“It’ll pass,” says the guide, grabbing onto the mast with one hand and the barrel of water with the other, looking around as if for an explanation for this squall.

The fat oarsman has stopped smiling; his face clouds over with fear. The one-eyed oarsman, his head down, rows more vigorously.

Then several gusts of wind hit them from the front: the canoe founders.

“Pull down the sail,” the guide shouts.

Jimmy tries to help him.

“Let’s turn back!” Clemen cries.

The fat oarsman moves his head wildly up and down in agreement.

“It’s no big deal,” Jimmy says sternly, as if rebuking Clemen for his fear; they manage to fold up the sail.

The guide insists that very soon they’ll pass through this gale.

“It’s as if we’re being attacked from all sides!” Clemen exclaims.

The canoe lurches forward; the waves are getting stronger and higher.

Clemen finds himself suspended in the air. When the boat slams down on the water, the boat shudders; the water barrel crashes down. Jimmy and the guide quickly set it right.

Another wave hits hard against the side of the canoe, drenching them with water.

“Turn around!” Clemen shouts.

The fat oarsman has stopped rowing and is holding onto the sides of the boat in terror.

“We can hold out a little longer!” Jimmy exclaims.

The wind whips around them.

The guide is bewildered: he looks at the oarsmen, then at Jimmy. And then, stunned, he sees the swell.

“Careful!” he shouts.

The canoe capsizes.

2. NIGHT

“Fuck!. Jimmy!. Jimmy!. ”

“Calm down.”

“Where are we?”

“You fell asleep.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Stop squirming around so frantically, you’re going to flip over the boat.”

“I’m sitting down. ”

“I know, but first you’d better get used to the dark. You’ve been sleeping for about three hours.”

“I can’t see you, Jimmy. Where are you? Where’s the lamp?”

“Here, next to me.”

“Light it, so I can see where I am.”

“You don’t need it. Close your eyes then open them slowly. Soon you’ll be able to see in the dark.”

“Quit giving me advice and hand me the god damn lamp.”

“We’re not going to light it unless there’s an emergency, a real danger. It’s too risky. You’re sitting down now, there’s nothing to see that you didn’t see before it got dark.”

“You never stop giving orders, do you, asshole? You can’t get it through your head that I’m not your corporal. ”

“Sergeants have corporals. We captains have lieutenants. Ignoramus. ”

“It’s horrible to wake up in the dark.”

“It’d be more horrible to not wake up.”

“What? What did you say?”

“Look at the sky. I’m always amazed at how many stars. ”

“Where are my smokes?”

“You missed an amazing sunset.”

“Jimmy, did you see my cigarettes?”

“The sky turned lilac.”

“Oh, yeah, the sky. Cut out the sissy crap and light the lamp, I’ve got to have a smoke. ”

“Look in your pockets.”

“Hand me the lamp, Jimmy, please, before I lose my patience.”

“You’re a moron, Clemen.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass. Give me the damn lamp. ”

“There’re your cigarettes, look. ”

“Where?”

“From here I can see the reflection of the package next to the carboy of water.

“Oh, you’re right. Shit. I’ve only got half a pack left. Let me count. Eleven cigs. Let’s hope Mono Harris comes tomorrow and bring us more supplies.”

“Let’s hope.”

“He promised.”

“He said he’d return tomorrow if the National Guard had quit snooping around the island.”

“What if they stay? We’ve only got enough provisions for one day.”

“We’ve got to be careful, Clemen. Use the least. ”

“What a drag to have to eat canned sardines and drink water after the fresh seafood and whiskey we had at Don Mincho’s house. And you were thinking we’d be in Punta Cosigüina by now. ”

“I don’t think the soldiers will hang around for long. It’s a private island. They’ll finish their search tomorrow then leave.”

“Unless the caretaker or his wife or daughters rat on us, or they go to the hamlet and the guide and oarsmen open their fat traps. Then they’ll stay and look for us, Mono Harris won’t be able to bring us provisions, and we’ll go straight to Hell in a handbasket. ”

“Stop torturing yourself with what-ifs. If they rat on us, they rat on themselves. Nobody’s going to say anything.”

“The shipwreck this afternoon was a tragedy, Jimmy. I lost all my cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey.”

“We lost the shotgun, the gun, our shoes, the money. We very nearly drowned. And all you think about is your whiskey? Be grateful we’re still alive.”

“A drink would do me so much good at this moment.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s your own fault, and the guide’s. You think Mono Harris will pay him?”

“Of course. ”

“Why should he? He didn’t get us to Punta Cosigüina, which was the deal, and he almost got us drowned. And it was his fault, when we capsized we lost the money we were going to pay him with when we got there.”

“It wasn’t his fault, it was the weather.”

“The weather?! The shipwreck was your and the guide’s fault, you were so determined to keep going when the waves were already dangerous. I warned you we should turn around. But since you’re a stubborn ass. Don’t now start pretending to be all nice and understanding.”