Night Under the Water

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A NIGHT UNDER THE WATER

(A true story)
by
Susana Bouquet

Melissa’s piano music echoed the myriad of bird songs coming from the jungle. 
            “I wish we would go home,” she said quietly while playing. 
            Elijah put down the Bible.
             “We cannot leave the mission alone, can we?” he added with a somber tone. 
The music stopped. 
He stretched his long arms, “The revolutionaries are talking with the government. The radio announced it today; maybe they’ll come to an agreement.”

“Agreement? Ha! You’re an idealist, my man, as always. Who wants to part with this lush soil, this rich jungle? This state alone is richest than the whole territory of Mexico! Nobody would give an inch!”

 “But many years ago they fought for the same land, men died and nobody won.  There’s plenty of land!  Fighting makes me angry”.

 “But nothing has changed,” she said.

               He walked to the window, his lips tight and his hands clenched.  His tall lean figure stood out against the bright light.  “But we’ve made some changes here!  Look, we built a hospital – even a small one!”   

              “We’ve been safe, thanks to the Lord, but . . . who knows for how long – and it’s time for us to see our grandchild, he’s going to be one year old and we don’t even know him”.

            “In time, my dear, in time.  We’re the first missionaries here, they’re learning to read and write, Antonio knows first aid, the bees are OK, giving lots of honey and soon we’ll be selling it.  We can’t take off, just like that,” he emphasized clicking his fingers.

 Melissa’s piano music trailed off with grave notes that sounded foreboding.

“But I’m worried, the town’s empty, everybody has fled, except for Antonio, Carmela and their children – I guess they can’t run away with so many -- if we are left   alone, what will happen to us?”

 “Okay, my dear, I guess you’re right, I’ll ask the bishop for a transfer.” 

Melissa turned around in her piano stool and walked with her arms stretched toward him. Her full blue skirt swayed gracefully from her pretty figure. She encircled him with her arms, “God is showing us the way.”

            As to comfort and strengthen each other, they stood close, arms around their waists, contemplating, through the bars of the large window, the jungle that they were about to leave, a jungle that had been their habitat for 30 years.  Breezes blew softly and brought the smells of a warm, moist earth rich in humus and mushrooms. Looking further away they could guess the meanderings of the Usumacinta River, which could not be seen, but could be guessed by the line drawn among the trees -- like the line scratched by a pencil when it goes through a carpet, marking the river’s watercourse. 
            “I love this place,” he said with sadness.

* * *

             Far away, he saw a dim cloud of dust, “Horses!” he yelled as his body tensed up.
            Carmela, the maid, came running,
            “Senora, the soldiers! Come away quick, we’ll hide you in the jungle.”
            “But my husband!”
            “He’ll join you, Antonio will bring him. Our children will be watching.”
            “Go!” Elijah yelled.  “I’ll stay, save the mission.  Goooo!”

             Twenty galloping horses stopped suddenly at the earth-packed yard. Soldiers dressed in dark green uniforms stopped in front of Elijah. The captain asked,

            “Where are the guns?”
            “I don’t have any, I’m a man of God.”

            “You three - search the house.”  Three men dismounted and pushed Elijah aside. With the butts of their rifles they broke into cabinets.  They fired at the bed.  They fired at the piano.  Sounds of broken chords resounded through the house.

“There’s nothing, Capitan.”
            “Keep looking, check the outhouse, the cellar.”  A few minutes later the men returned.
             “There’s no guns.”
            “Go to the stables. Bring the horses and the food.”

            The men came back laughing, stumbling, cavorting, lifting buckets of milk to their mouths that made their dark mustaches turn white. 

            “Ay, caramba, no arms?  What did you find?”
            “Lots of corn, bags and bags, to the ceiling.  But no arms, mi capitan.”
            “Let’s take care of this one”.  To blindfold him, the men had to stand facing Elijah, close enough for him to smell the  pulque on their breaths. He smiled, thinking that the bees don’t like alcohol.

            The captain cocked his head.
            “Take him. Al paredon!  To the wall!”

  Elijah stood facing the firing squad, erect and proud, his back against the stonewall. Silently, he prayed, “Father who art in heaven . . .”

            “At- TEN-tion!” yelled the captain. 
            Zzzzzz . . . A buzz – a hallucination?  No, it was real. The honey bees! Elijah smiled secretly—bees don’t like the smell of alcohol. The bees circled and circled – zzzz zz zzz, while the men shuffled in their positions, swatting the bees with their caps. ZZZ ZZZZZ  ZZZZZ an invasion!  – zzzzzzz, zzz, zzzzzzz!  .  More ZZZZZZZZ!  Hundreds, thousands, a cloud, an invasion!

            One of them went around the horse, his eyes bulged and the foam gathered in his mouth. The animal stepped hard on the dusty ground, swishing his tail wildly and hitting the captain’s legs. A bee landed on the horse’s nose and stung him, causing him to buck, like a wild bronco in a corral.         

Even though the captain was trying hard to hold on to the saddle, he lost his grip and slid off back of the horse’s rump and dropped to the ground with a punch. On all fours, he crawled to avoid the horse’s hoofs.  The soldiers yelled, threw their rifles down and ran to the woods. As soon as he got up, perspiring and dusty, the captain yelled at the soldiers,

”Hijos de la p­­­_____, sons of a gun, cowards, come back.”

* * *

             Someone was untying Elijah blindfold and hands rope,
             “Reverend!  It’s me, to the river!” he ordered.
              At the water’s edge Antonio said,  “Jump in.”
            “But I don’t know how to swim!”
            “Aye, caramba! Dios mio, help us. All right, hold on to these branches, like this, see, they’re low enough”.  The Reverend cautiously walked in the deep mud, all the while grasping the branches to keep his balance. With a choked voice he called Antonio, who had left him suddenly.
            “Shhh, quiet, they may hear us. I’m going to cut a hollow reed for you, so you can breathe under the water. We don’t know how long, all night perhaps”.

He selected a reed as thick as his thumb. He chewed it off with his strong teeth, 
            “Go on, under, under the water, all the way. They’ll be looking for you. Put one end in your mouth, don’t let go water into it.”

* * *

Stars were shining on the velvety blue sky.  Elijah was shivering.  He heard a shuffling of ground leaves -- a panther? No, the rhythm was two-step, not four. Through the water, he could see two figures approaching, their white tunics shining in the dark.  Peasants as hostages? No, friends coming to help him. Holding on to the branch, he slid to the bank. The soil, under the decaying leaves, was warm and smelled of mushrooms. 

               “Reverend!”

            Elijah tried to stand up, but his body it was so stiff, that he couldn’t feel it nor move it. Antonio and Carmela pulled him by the arms. They undressed and dried him, rubbing his body with herbs that stung his skin.  They covered him with several layers of their own tunics that, because the helpers were much shorter, they came down only as far as to Elijah’s knees. With no underwear, Elijah still insisted on covering his private parts with his hands. 

“Here, Reverend”, Antonio said, pouring a fermented beverage down Elijah’s throat. It burned, but sobs prevented him from speaking.  Finally he muttered, “But today’s Sunday, I cannot drink.” He bent forward, fell on his knees and, to his surprise, he broke down and cried. After he calmed down, he prayed.
            He looked like a high priest with shrunk up cassocks. His big shoes, full of water, swished every time he took a step.   When he came to his senses, he pointed to his wedding ring.  The two smiled, nodding.

            In the early morning they reached a clearing. The sunlight hit the top of the trees, where thousands of birds were singing. 
            From the straw roofed Melissa ran and hugged him, looking inquisitively into his eyes.
            Barely able to speak, Elijah answered, “I spent the night under the water.”

* * *

            “By the way, Antonio, how come the bees got out?” asked Elijah, gobbling up a bean-filled tortilla.  Both parents and their five children giggled, covering their face with their hands and looking coyly at him. 

THE END