The bridge of San Luis Rey - Thornton Wilder [16]
There was this strange and noble figure in Peru during these years, the Captain Alvarado, the traveller. He was blackened and cured by all weathers. He stood in the Square with feet apart as though they were planted on a shifting deck. His eyes were strange, unaccustomed to the shorter range, too used to seizing the appearances of a constellation between a cloud and a cloud, and the outline of a cape in rain. His reticence was sufficiently explained for most of us by his voyages, but the Marquesa de Montemayor had other light on the matter. "Captain Alvarado is bringing you this letter in person," she wrote to her daughter. "Introduce him to some of your geographers, my treasure, though it may make them a little uncomfortable, for he is the diamond of sincerity. They will never see anyone who has travelled so far. Last night he described to me some of his voyages. Imagine him pushing his prow through a sea of weeds, stirring up a cloud of fish like grasshoppers in June; or sailing between islands of ice. Oh, he has been to China and up the rivers of Africa. But he is not merely an adventurer; and he seems to take no pride in discovering new places; nor is he a mere merchant. One day I asked him narrowly why he lived so, and he avoided my question. I found out from my laundress what I think is the reason of his wandering: My child, he had a child; my daughter, he had a daughter. She was just old enough to cook a holiday meal, and do a little sewing for him. In those days he merely sailed between Mexico and Peru and hundreds of times she waved him farewell or welcome. We have no way of knowing whether she was more beautiful or intelligent than the thousands of other girls that lived about him, but she was his. I suppose it seems ignoble to you that a great oak of a man should go about the world like a blind man about an empty house merely because a chit of a girl has been withdrawn from it. No, no, you cannot understand this, my adored one, but I understand and grow pale. Last night he sat with me and talked of her. He laid his cheek against his hand and looking into the fire, he said: 'It sometimes seems to me that she is away upon a voyage and that I shall see her again. It seems to me that she is in England.' You will laugh at me, but I think he goes about the hemispheres to pass the time between now and his old age." The brothers had always entertained a great respect for Captain Alvarado. They had worked for him a short time and the silence of the three of them had made a little kernel of sense in a world of boasting, self-excuse and rhetoric. So now when the great traveller came into the dark kitchen where Esteban was eating the boy drew his chair farther into the shadow, but at a distance, he was glad. The Captain gave no sign of recognizing or even of seeing him until he had finished his meal. Esteban had finished long before, but not wishing to be spoken to, waited until the Captain should have left the cave. At last the Captain walked over to him and said. "You are Esteban or Manuel. You helped me once with some unloading. I am Captain Alvarado." "Yes," said Esteban. "How are you?" Esteban muttered something. "I am looking for some strong fellows to go on my next trip with me." Pause. "Would you like to come?" Longer pause. "England. And Russia.... Hard work. Good wages.... A long way from Peru.--Well?" Apparently Esteban had not been listening. He sat with his eyes on the table. At last the Captain raised his voice, as to a deaf person: "I said: Do you want to go on my next trip with me. --" "Yes, I'll go," answered Esteban suddenly. "Fine. That's fine. I want your brother, too, of course" "No." "What's the matter? Wouldn't he want to come?" Esteban mumbled something, looking away. Then half rising, he said: "I've got to go now. I've got to see somebody about something." "Let me see your brother myself. Where is he?" "... dead," said Esteban. "Oh, I didn't know. I didn't know. I'm sorry." "Yes," said Esteban. "I've got to go." "Hmm.--Which are you? What's your name?" "Esteban." "When did Manuel die?" "Oh, just a... just a few weeks. He hit his knee against something and... just a few weeks ago." They both kept their eyes on the floor. "How old are you, Esteban?" "Twenty-two." "Well, that's settled then, you're coming with me?" "Yes." "You may not be used to the cold." "Yes, I'm used to it.--I've got to go now. I've got to go in the city and see somebody about something." "Well, Esteban. Come back here for supper and we'll talk about the trip. Come back and have some wine with me, see. Will you?" "Yes, I will." "Go with God." "Go with God.' They had supper together and it was arranged that they were to start for Lima the next morning. The Captain got him very drunk. At first they poured and drank and poured and drank in silence. Then the Captain began to talk about ships and their courses. He asked Esteban questions about tackle and about the guide-stars. Then Esteban began to talk about other things, and to talk very loudly: "On the ship you must give me something to do all the time. I'll do anything, anything. I'll climb up high and fix ropes; and I'll watch all night,--because, you know, I don't sleep well anyway. And, Captain Alvarado, on the ship you must pretend that you don't know me. Pretend that you hate me the most. So that you'll always give me things to do. I can't sit still and write at a table any more. And don't tell the other men about me... that is, about..." "I hear you went into a burning house, Esteban, and pulled someone out." "Yes. I didn't get burned or anything. You know," cried Esteban, leaning across the table, "You're not allowed to kill yourself: you know you're not allowed. Everybody knows that. But if you jump into a burning house to save somebody, that wouldn't be killing yourself. And if you became a matador and the bull caught you that wouldn't be killing yourself. Only you mustn't put yourself in the bull's way on purpose. Did you ever notice that animals never kill themselves, even when they're sure to lose? They never jump into a river or anything, even when they're sure to lose. Some people say that horses run into bonfires. Is that true?" "No, I don't think that's true." "I don't think it's true. We had a dog once. Well, I mustn't think of that.--Captain Alvarado, do you know Madre Mar