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He laughed. “Do I look like a Dane?”
But he humored her and agreed, nodding thoughtfully when she dug out his sack of loot and found Danish company currency from San Tomás. “See,” she declared triumphantly, clinging to the sliver of hope. “You could be Torsten.”
“Not if we encounter a Danish ship,” he replied.
As the days grew shorter, he climbed the mountain more frequently, returning one day in a state of excitement. “I’m confused,” he said breathlessly. “The marine layer has cleared and I think I see land in the far distance.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked.
“But I expected to see something to the north, not the south. Clearly, we’re not where I thought we were.”
* * *
“Find the needle we used,” Maximiliano told Heidi. “We must make sure of our bearings.”
He followed her to the cave, discounting the thousand-and-one navigational theories that had floated in his mind since they’d been marooned. A large land mass to the south hadn’t factored into his calculations. They were evidently further south than he’d thought. The hotter temperatures and the position of the stars should have been a clue, but he’d always relied on Gatito for navigating.
Heidi handed him the slightly rusty needle. “You seem excited,” she said.
He nodded. “If I did see land to the south, our raft might make it there on a calm day.”
“Is it Puerto Rico, do you think?” she asked.
He shook his head, reluctant to get her hopes up.
He scraped the needle on a stone just outside the cave to get the rust off. They took it down to the rocks, magnetized it again on Heidi’s hair and sat it in a floating leaf.
“It’s the same as you told me before,” she whispered. “So what country do you think is to the south?”
She had a right to know. “Venezuela.”
He anticipated her puzzled frown. “Better than Puerto Rico,” he explained. “It’s unlikely anyone will recognize me there.”
“Could you pass as a Dane?”
“I’ve not been there, so I don’t know, but Venezuela is part of Gran Colombia. Their navy is probably aware of Lázaro the Pirate, though I’ve never taken one of their ships.”
* * *
“Are you certain it’s Venezuela?” Heidi asked for the hundredth time as Maximiliano secured the rope that bound her to the raft. She hated the fear in her voice and hoped he knew she trusted him.
“As certain as I can be,” he replied patiently. “The coastline has become clearer in the week since I first saw it, and the sea is as calm today as it’s ever likely to be.”
They’d pushed the raft into the shallows and lashed her portmanteau to the flimsy craft. The pistols, his boots and meager provisions had been stuffed into her bag.
“The first part will be the roughest,” he told her, “but once we’re past the reef, the outgoing tide will help us.”
She’d wanted to help him force the raft through the waves breaking on shore, but he’d insisted she be tied to the craft.
He knelt in the sand. “I’m not a religious man,” he said. “But I pray God will protect you and myniño. Never forget I love you.”
She couldn’t stop the tears. “As I love you.”
He rose, and pushed the raft into the waves.
She clawed the rope, quickly drenched by the spray as the surf did its utmost to batter the raft back to the island. She could barely see her husband, but prayed his incredible strength and determination would see them through.
Dolphins
