A Thunderous Whisper (26 page)

By the time I finally found the infirmary, the ship had already left port. It was no wonder I couldn’t find it, considering the room was three floors down, not one, and it was really the freighter’s dining hall with a paper taped to the door that read
CHILDREN’S INFIRMARY
.

When I walked into the room, no one questioned who I was because Julián immediately started yelling my name. The room itself was crowded, but not like the top deck, where the rest of the kids were staying. Here there was a bit more space … but not much. Nurses and nuns were making sure everyone got some food, and a few children were eating as if they hadn’t had a meal in days. It took me a moment to realize—they probably hadn’t.

I marched toward Julián. “Why did you leave? I told you I’d be right back. You scared me to death.”

“What? I didn’t leave. A nurse got me and wheeled me inside. I didn’t have any choice.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Plus, who are you … my mother?”

One of the nuns lifted her head and glanced at us.

“Um, no … but I
am
your sister,” I announced in a loud voice.

Julián scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at me as if I had gone crazy. “My sister? Are you nuts?”

I clasped my hand over his mouth. “Do you want to be left alone?” I whispered.

“Everything fine over here?” the nun asked, now standing right by us.

I peeled back my hand. “Um …”

“Everything’s fine. My idiot sister here just likes to boss me around too much,” Julián answered.

The nun looked at the two of us, unsure what to make of the situation.

“¿Idiota?”
I pretended to be insulted. “I can’t believe you just called me that!”

“Well, that’s what you are, right?” Julián mocked me.

“Sounds about right for a brother and sister.” The nun smiled and walked away.

“Good job,” I whispered to Julián as he gave me a wink.

“Storyteller?” a voice called out. “Is that you?”

I spun around to see Diego being brought into the room.

Julián and I both shouted, “Diego!” I was about to run over when I remembered Julián and turned to bring him with me.

“Who else is here?” Diego asked.

“Just me and Julián,” I said. “I mean, there are other kids in here and more up on deck … but just us from Garza’s house.”

Diego smiled, showing off his dimples. “Well, I certainly didn’t think we were by ourselves on the freighter.”

“Ha! Good one, Diego.” Julián leaned forward and gave Diego a tap on the leg.

“Seriously, how many people are here?” Diego asked. “It sounded like a million voices when I was brought on board.”

I looked around. “There are probably about a hundred in here with us, but I heard they expect more than three thousand on the ship. Basque kids from all over.”

“Three thousand!” Julián exclaimed. “We’d better stick together!”

“That is a lot of people,” Diego muttered. “Either of you know anyone in England?”

“No,” we both replied.

Diego sighed. “Me neither.”

I crouched down between Diego and Julián, not wanting to stick out as one of the few uninjured in the room.

“No parents on board either, right?” Diego asked.

“No,” I answered. I knew it had to be strange for him to hear so many voices and not know who was speaking or what the surroundings looked like. “All kids, no parents.”

I wondered how many of us on the freighter still had a parent.

“Your mom,” I blurted out, suddenly realizing that I didn’t know what had happened to her.

“She’s doing better.” Diego leaned back in his chair. “Well enough to regain consciousness and send me away.” He crossed his arms and let his head rest against the wall behind him. “Can you believe it?”

“I’m sure she’s doing what she thinks is best,” I offered.

Diego shrugged. “Maybe. Or she just didn’t want to deal with a son who’s blind.”

I thought of Mamá and how she couldn’t stand people who were sick or crippled.

“I’m sure that’s not it,” I said, not knowing if it was true.

Diego’s shoulders seemed to drop a little. “I know. I just get … I don’t know … angry sometimes.”

“We all do,” muttered Julián. He wheeled himself around to face away from us. I saw him lock his wheels and quickly wipe a tear from his cheek.

For the first few hours, the trip was relatively quiet. The ship swayed a bit, but many of the children didn’t seem to mind the rocking motion. I even spotted several eating some of the food they’d hoarded from when the nurses had first handed out the meals. More time passed, and it felt as if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

By early evening, the ship’s rocking became stronger, and then suddenly the freighter seemed to tilt too far to one side. Everyone was thrown off balance, and kids tumbled into each other. Before I could recover, we were all rolling the other way.

Julián screamed as his wheelchair toppled over. I grabbed him and held on to a table that was fastened to the wall.

Had we hit a mine laid by Franco’s men? Was someone trying to stop us from leaving?

As the freighter steadied itself, I peered out the porthole. A storm was howling outside, and waves smashed against the side of the ship. Behind me I could hear the commotion of
everyone talking at once and several of the younger children crying out for their parents. A particularly large wave hit the ship, and sea spray doused the porthole glass, making me jump back.

We were still being swayed side to side, but I seemed to have been born with sea legs and had already found my balance. Maybe it was a family trait inherited from Papá.

But not everyone was as lucky. I watched as many of the children were quickly turning green.

“You! Girl by the window … 
¡ayúdanos!
” a voice called out.

I looked over to see a small nurse with a booming voice shouting at me. Hesitating, I pointed to myself, unsure if she was talking to me or how she expected me to help.

“Yes, you. Go get some bowls and pass them out.” She pointed toward the kitchen as she held a boy’s head and he threw up everything he’d been so happy to eat a few hours earlier.

Running toward the kitchen, I jumped over a few kids on the verge of losing their lunch. There was no time to spare. I found several mixing bowls and a few pots and began to pass them out.

During the next twenty minutes or so, the room grew relatively quiet except for the occasional moans and retching noises. The stench of vomit was now making even those of us with stronger stomachs feel sick. Having emptied the kitchen of every bowl, pot, and bucket, I walked to the corner where I could see Diego holding on to the side of Julián’s chair.

I thought about going to the upper deck, where most
of the other noninjured kids were. At least there I’d have fresh air.

“Ani,” Julián whispered, reaching out to grab my hand. In his eyes I could see the scared little seven-year-old and not the wisecracking kid he pretended to be.

There was no way I was going to leave him behind just for some fresh air. “It’ll be okay,” I whispered, lying down next to his chair.

Julián looked me in the eyes. “You’ll stay.” It was half command, half plea.

I nodded.

The rest of the night the room remained eerily still. Eventually, everyone fell asleep, the steady swaying of the ship causing us all to regress to babies being rocked in cradles.

The murmuring of voices woke me up. As I lifted my head off the floor and got my bearings, I noticed that sunlight was already pouring in through the porthole nearby. It seemed that the weather would cooperate until we docked in England.

“G’morning, sleepyhead,” Julián greeted me while chewing on a mouthful of bread.

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and focused on him sitting in his wheelchair … a roll in each hand. How had he gotten there? He’d gone to sleep on the floor next to me, and I was pretty sure he needed help getting into the wheelchair.

“She’s awake?” Diego asked.

“Yep,” answered Julián. “At least I think she’s awake. She still looks kinda groggy.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Julián smirked. “We should be the ones complaining.… You snored really loud all night.”

“Liar!” I said.… But what if it was true?

Julián laughed.

“It’s not true. I slept right here, and you were as quiet as a mouse,” Diego said, smiling.

“Ah, but you should see the look on her face, Diego.” Julián slapped the side of his chair. “I got her good.”

Rolling my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at Julián.

“Hey, don’t stick your tongue out at me,” he said.

Glancing at Diego with his bandaged eyes, I smiled and said, “I did no such thing.”

“Ugh, now she really is a liar,” Julián complained.

“Do you want something to eat?” Diego asked. “They’ve been passing out breakfast rolls.”

I smoothed my hair, immediately realizing that Diego couldn’t see whether I looked presentable or not. “Um, no. I’m okay. What have you two been doing besides eating?”

“Oh, just talking. Tried to tell Julián a story, but I’m no good at that kind of thing. Best I leave that to you.”

“Not if it’s the story Ani was telling before. That one has too much about some silly princess.”

At the sound of the word
princess
, a little girl with straight blond hair who sat only a few feet away from us turned her head.

“So you don’t want to find out what happens next?” I asked.

“Well”—Julián crossed his arms—“I did like the part about the sea monster.” He paused for a moment. “I guess since we’re
in the middle of the sea with nothing better to do … might as well hear about the dumb princess getting eaten—”

“The princess does
not
get eaten,” I answered, watching the little blond girl out of the corner of my eye.

“What was the princess’s name?” Another little girl, this one with big brown curls, scooted toward us.

“Her name?” I thought for a moment as both girls sat closer to me.

“Who cares?” Julián said, rolling his eyes. “Just listen to the story. Her name doesn’t matter.”

The little girl crossed her arms. “Of
course
it matters!”

“Um. Well, her name was”—I glanced at Julián and smiled—“Juliana.”

Diego chuckled, and the little girl nodded. “Princess Juliana is a pretty name,” she said.

“Ugh,” Julián groaned.

I retold the story from the very beginning, making sure to dwell a little longer on my description of the beautiful Princess Juliana. As I got to the part about the fairy granting the princess her wish to get off the island, all the children were mesmerized, hanging on my every word.

“So the fairy gave Princess Juliana a magical token that would let her travel the seas without being attacked by the horrible sea monster.”

A little boy with dark hair and green eyes raised his hand as if we were in school.

I paused the story and pointed to him, as so many of my teachers had done to me.

“What’s a token?” he asked.

“A token is something small. It can be a coin or a shell.” I looked at the several new faces that had gathered around me to hear the story. “In this case, the fairy gave Princess Juliana a magic seed.” I reached into my pocket, skipping over the brass weight, and pulled out my silk pouch. “This seed would protect any traveler, and it could be planted so that new seeds would be produced for more people to travel the seas.” I opened the pouch and pulled out my acorn. “It was just like this one.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupted.

“Can I hold it?” A little hand reached out to me.

I clasped the acorn. “No, because …” I glanced around and curled my finger to bring the children even closer, then whispered, “It has to stay a secret, just between us, but I think this acorn might be one of the magical seeds.”

“Will it help us avoid the sea monster?” one little boy exclaimed.

“Of course,” I replied, putting the acorn into its pouch and slipping it back into my skirt pocket.

“Are you the princess from the story?” a little girl asked, her eyes wide as could be.

I shook my head. “That princess lived a long time ago, and when she crossed the sea and arrived in the new land, she planted the magic seed. After many years that seed grew into a tall, strong tree. It was a tree so great and so magical that kings and queens would use it as a place to meet with other leaders.”

“Hey, was that the oak in Guernica? Did it come from the magic acorn?” Julián asked, caught up in the story like the other children.

“No one knows for sure. But legend has it that the
jentillak,
those mythical creatures that live in the Basque forest, would gather up the acorns of the magic tree and plant them in different cities.”

“Why?” Julián asked.

“Because each tree would produce acorns that carried a special magic for those who knew the secret.”

“What secret?” several voices said at the same time.

I smiled. “Well”—I paused—“are you sure you want to know?”

“¡Sí!”
they all shouted.

“The secret is … those magic seeds help you to always find your way home.”

“That’s good because I want to go home soon,” a little girl announced, with many of the children responding with strong “Me toos!”

“And so,
colorín, colorado, este cuento se ha acabado
,” I said, signaling the end of the story.

“¡Otro!”
shouted the blond girl.

“Yes, another one … pleeease!” said the one with big brown curls.

Julián nodded and smiled. “Pretty good story.”

“Pretty good storyteller,” Diego corrected.

“I’d have to agree with that,” a voice said from behind me. I turned to see the small nurse who’d ordered me to pass out the bowls the night before. “You have a real gift.”

I could feel my cheeks turning red from the attention. Instinctively, my hand dug into my pocket, bypassing the silk pouch with the acorn and grasping the brass weight. “It’s nothing, really,” I mumbled.

“It most certainly is something,” she said, smiling down at me.

In the morning light, the nurse, wearing her crisp white outfit and small white cap, didn’t seem as fierce as she did when everyone was sick. She actually looked sweet.