THE SUNKED GALLEON

When Javier came to Beach the Pines, in Key Sabina, in Camagüey’s Cuban province, looking for new ideas for the argument of his new book, did not imagine that one was going to think with a history that it could rival with “ The old man and the sea “ of Ernest Hemingway.

His publisher was ordering him messages, urging the young person journalist whom it was ending as soon as possible. The period of edition were becoming exhausted and production was starting worrying. 

At the moment, sat under the roof of straw of an old hut and tasting a refreshing mojito, Javier was contemplating the horizon of color emerald, hearing as the waves rompian in the shore with a monotonous and sleeping noise.

A noise of infantile voices, it called his attention. It got up and went towards a group of little children who sat about an enormous ceiba, were listening to the old man fisherman Manuel. The elder looked at him during a moment and greeted with a slight gesture of his head. His eyes were reflecting the wisdom of deep seas and after a pause, supporting his rugose hands on a cane, it began with his hoarse voice bathed in rum, to count a moment of his life. Javier, took note:

“ It was dawning when I embarked one more day, with all my apparels of fishing, in my falucho ready to have a good day of fishing. I hoisted the apparels and put course to Key Guajaba. Very soon the dolphins began to accompany me giving happy capers. They were my best friends, the deep-sea hours were becoming more agreeable and even they were taking the fishing directly up to my networks. In exchange, in compensation, I was offering them a part of the fished during the day. It was a perfect association. I was not late very much in coming to my destination. They were deep waters and the cardúmenes of pargos were abounding and it was a good opportunity to fill my networks.

I stopped to fall the anchor, verified that it was subject well to the bottom and little later I threw my apparels, simultaneously that was saying a prayer to the Virgencita of Regla in order that I was helping myself. The oceáno was in calmness. No fish was giving signs of life and was breaking the quietude of the surface of the sea. Only someone that another gull, he was planning on the waters in search of some careless dam. That day, it did not seem that the fishing was to being specially good, so tired of waiting, I decided that the better thing was to return to port and to return on the morning following the wait of better luck.

But when I tried to raise the anchor on board, this one got hooked up in the bottom and there was no way of raising it. I it tried several times, with all my forces, but my efforts turned out to be useless. I it did not think two times, submerged and followed the end of the anchor.

To be careless, in those waters the mako abounds and it did not want to finish in the teeth of one of these monsters. My lungs already were on the verge of exploding, when I discovered that the anchor had got stuck between the remains of a flotsam. The silhouette of a former Spanish galleon was guessed in the bottom. You upset without air, I returned to the surface. The glooms were wrapping the oceáno and the whole world knew that during the night, the sea was dangerous. I slept between nightmares. Dreams riddled with exchequers, pirates and naval battles tormented me. When I woke up, the Sun was high in the horizon. I took a drink of rum and I was preparing to plunge myself when something called my attention. The stela of a triangular fin, it was breaking slow the surface.

- So it was because of it! There were no fish because it was!. An enormous shark, it was patrolling about the falucho. 

- Damned pendejo, you are ready if you think that you are going to crash to Manuel. I have fished many people as you in these waters!.

My problem was big. If it wanted to recover the anchor it had to face me to the enormous fish and I did not like to be a pasture of sharks. After some hours the sea was calm, nothing was breaking his surface. It was not now or ever. I took the harpoon and threw to the Caribbean sea. The water was clear and there was total visibility. Very soon I came to the old galleon and found the anchor subject well to the large mask of prow. When I was preparing to give up it, the sheen of an object in the sand of golden color, it called my attention. My hands soon extracted a medium large chest of silver with the royal stamp of the imperial Spain. I congratulated myself on my finding. It was going to give up the anchor, when an enormous shade happened over me. The shark had returned.

- Alabaó! The damned pendejo has returned and my lungs start me failing.

I did not still have another solution. Or he was dying drowned, or was killing to the damned shark. I left the chest and the harpoon I faced the shark. It was a fight to death, several times I heard as his jaws they were closed, with a pop, to scanty centimeters of my legs. But when my life was escaping between bubbles of oxygen, I buried my harpoon in the tough body of the shark. I gathered the chest, gave up the harpoon and returned to the surface.

The Spanish doubloons cost me a small house was able to buy me here in Beach the Pines and arrange my falucho. A very seaworthy ship to which I estimate with very much fondness. - Manuel, Manuel, tell us more histories!. The children shouted, anxious. Javier stopped writing in his note-pad and fisherman approached the old man. "

- hello Galician, have you liked my history?. Since tomorrow I will tell you other one. Old stories, abundances of salt and breeze marina. 

- Manuel spoke To Him, looking at the Spanish with tired eyes. - then, up to old marine tomorrow. - up to tomorrow. Here I wait for you, boy. 

And while Javier, was walking along the beach, the mulatto elder was caressing between his corny hands a precious chest of silver with the royal stamp of Spain.