“And what problems do we need to solve?”
Alicia sensed that her proposal was not being well received. She felt ugly, old, disheveled, and thought, Nobody would want to marry me in this condition. Better try another tack.
“Well… you want to be the governor, right?”
“I am the governor already.”
“Not true, you are a tyrant, and you only dominate by beating us. You have no authority over anybody. But I, I am indeed the governor, because Porfirio Díaz conferred that title upon my husband.”
“Porfirio Díaz is dead now.”
““And so is my husband, and so many other people, but that does not change anything. If you and I get married, everybody will recognize you as the governor, as well as me, both of us. That way we could command the isle in peace, the way God intended, and not through violence, which is bad for the children, and for everyone.”
“Does a man who marries a lady governor also become governor?”
“That’s right, like he who marries a queen becomes king.”
“I like that, to be the legitimate governor, like my grandfather.”
“Which grandfather?”
“My grandfather General Manuel Alvarez. He was a real governor, of the whole state of Colima. Not like Captain Arnaud, only governor of this shitty isle.”
“It’s not so bad. Don’t you see that France wants to take it away from us? And the United States. Even the Japanese want it, there must be something.”
“Oh well, heaven knows why. What I don’t understand is why there was so much hate between us and now so much sweetness.”
“I already told you. If we are going to live here for the rest of our lives, we better do it in peace.”
“But why do I need to marry you? Don’t be offended, ma’am: you’re very pretty and quite a woman. A little skinny, but you pass, and I am grateful for your deference. What I mean is, when I need you, I just go and take you home with me without asking for any permission, and that’s it. That’s how my white grandfather, the governor, used to do it, and that is what I do.”
“But that way I am never going to love you.”
“And if I marry you, you will not give me any more poisoned soup?”
“No. There is no more poison.”
Tirsa, who was sitting facing Victoriano, stood up, careful not to show her back to him.
“I don’t trust this. It doesn’t sound good to me,” Victoriano said, and hearing this, Tirsa sat down again.
At sea on the other side of the isle, from the bridge of the Yorktown, Captain Perril was looking through his spyglass at the strange behavior of the women and children who were making signals. It all seemed too urgent, too emotional to be only a greeting. He sent for Lieutenant Kerr, who was readying the landing boat together with two bluejackets.
“Lieutenant,” he said to him, handing him the spyglass. “Watch. Those people are in trouble. An emergency, maybe. Take Dr. Ross with you, in case they need a surgeon.”
Kerr, Dr. Ross, and the two bluejackets left on the boat. It was noon. They tried to get close to the coast through very heavy seas, and Captain Perril, who kept a close watch on them, feared they would be overcome by the waves and ordered to signal them to return.
On the beach, Altagracia, Rosalía, and Francisca, their lives hanging from a thread, saw the approaching boat and gesticulated, trying to encourage the four men who were on board to row even faster and reach them. According to Alicia’s instructions not to shout, or else Victoriano would be alerted, they were making desperate gestures in silence, like mimes. Suddenly, when the men were only a few yards away from crossing the barrier reef, the women saw the boat turning around, heading back to the gunboat. Was it possible they would be abandoned again? What kind of abominable joke was this, for the boat to have come so close and then to head back, leaving them behind? Were they going to meet their deaths anyway, after almost being rescued? The women went all out, shouting, crying, pleading hysterically, wading into the sea, wanting to fly, swim, run, anything in order to reach the boat. But their nightmare was not over; there was no way to stop it. The rowboat reached the gunboat, and the men went aboard. They all saw them. It was not a mirage. The only mirage was the possibility of a rescue. It had been just another cruel joke, like the one that took Captain Arnaud and Lieutenant Cardona to their deaths. The women stopped shouting. They remained in the water, silent, vacant, suddenly lifeless, waiting for the ghost to disappear from view. The gunboat started to move away. They saw it going northwest and waited until it was engulfed in green mist.
Lieutenant Kerr went up to the bridge and discussed the whole procedure again with Captain Perril. They agreed to attempt a landing farther to the northwest, where the sea seemed less aggressive.
Sitting on the beach, worried and puzzled by the conversation, and unaware of what was happening on the other side, Victoriano Alvarez continued baiting his hooks nervously, trying to figure out what was behind Alicia’s words.
“What you are proposing, ma’am, sounds good to me,” he said. “For us to become husband and wife, both to be governors, and to live in peace. What I don’t understand is why now, when you never wanted this to happen before.”
“I always treated you right.”
“Yes, in a condescending way. But you never treated me like a man.”
“I had my husband, Victoriano, and I loved him very much.”
“But then you became a widow, and you didn’t change.”
“Then I had the baby, and besides, I was in mourning.”
“Are you through now?”
“I think so.”
She noticed that Tirsa had stood up, walked away, and was moving her hands behind her back. Alicia guessed she was pulling loose the mallet secured with a rope, and made a superhuman effort not to follow her with her eyes so that Victoriano would not turn around.
“And your children, will they accept me as their father?” he asked.
Alicia had begun to tremble, and her mouth turned dry. “If you treat them right, of course—” the tension strangling the words in her throat as she felt Tirsa’s shadow approaching.
If I look at her now, Alicia knew, Victoriano will kill her. But her eyes did not obey and moved on their own, her pupils dilated, fixed on the mallet that Tirsa had raised over the head with the red hair. In Alicia’s glance Victoriano saw the reflection of his own death. He recognized it immediately: he had faced it many times before. Once more he fought to evade it by trying to escape. He lurched to one side, but his sick legs responded very slowly. His movement was clumsy, his attempt faltered, and the descending mallet hit him on the nape of the neck. He was stunned for a fraction of a second, then recovered his reflexes, now sharpened, and instinctively reached for one of the harpoons. Tirsa was retreating, surprised that her attempt had failed, while Alicia watched the scene in a daze, numbed, as if she herself had received the blow. She felt like running away but restrained herself. She saw how Victoriano had taken the harpoon and was aiming it between Tirsa’s eyes, and saw her flex her legs, recover her position, and wait for the attack, ready to defend herself with the mallet. If I don’t do something, the harpoon will go through her, Alicia thought, and she lunged at the man from the side, far from the harpoon’s point. An arm curled around her neck and squeezed. She felt the sudden lack of air in her lungs, but remembering to use her mouth, she opened and closed it, digging her teeth in up to their roots. She recognized the taste of blood, and focused her whole being on the strength of the bite, aware that no earthly power could force her to let go. Tirsa took advantage of that moment to raise the mallet again, letting it fall where it would, and she heard Victoriano roar. She laughed, suddenly fascinated by her own strength.