Cuba by Stephen Coonts Page A

here and
    now he was leaving, an event of the first order of
    magnitude. Surely they could see the transformation
    in his face, in the way he walked.
    Several people called to him, “El Ochoff”…Several
    fans wanted to shake his hand, but no more than usual.
    This was the way they always acted as he walked bythis
    was the way people had treated him since he was fifteen.
    He left the people behind and walked past the closed fish
    markets and warehouses. His footsteps echoed off the
    buildings.
    The boat was in a slip, Diego said, behind a
    certain boatyard.
    He rounded the corner, saw people. Men, women, and children
    standing in little knots. Hmm, they were right near the
    slip.
    They were standing around the slip.
    He saw Diego standing on the dock, and Dora.
    People stepped out of the way to let him by.
    “All these peopleea”…he said to Diego, “Did you
    announce our departure at the ballpark? I thought
    we were going to sneak out of here.”
    Diego had a sick look on his face. “They’re
    going with usea”…he said.
    “What?”
    “The captain brought his relatives, my brother
    heard we were leaving, talked to some of his friends….”
    Ocho stared at the boat. The boat’s name on the
    stern
    was written in black paint, which was chipping and peeling
    off.
    Angel del Mar,
    Angel of the Sea. The boat was maybe forty feet
    long, with a little pilothouse. Fishing nets still hung
    from the aft mast. The crowdhe estimated there were
    close to fifty people standing here.
    “How many people, Diego? How many?”
    “Over eighty.”
    “On that boat? In the Gulf Stream?
    Estd locot
    Diego was beside himself. “This is our chance, Ocho.
    We can make it. God is with us.”
    “God? If the boat swamps, will He keep us from
    drowning?”
    “Ocho, listen to me. My friends are waiting in
    Florida. This is our chance to make it to America,
    to be something, to live decent…. This is
    our
    chance.”
    People were staring at him, listening to Diego.
    Ocho looked into the faces locking at him. He
    tore his eyes away, finally, looked back at
    Diego, who had his hand on Ocho’s arm.
    “No. I am
    not
    going.”…He pulled his arm from Diego’s grasp.
    “Go with one less, you will all have a little better
    chance.”
    “You
    have
    to goea”…Diego pleaded, and grabbed his arm.
    “Ochoea”…Dora wailed.
    “You have to goea”…Diego snarled. “You got her
    pregnant! Be a man!”
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Eighty-four people were packed aboard
    Angel del Mar
    as she headed for the mouth of the small bay under a
    velvet black sky strewn with stars. A sliver of
    moon cast just enough light to see the sand on the bars at
    the entrance of the bay.
    The boat rode low in the water and seemed to react
    sluggishly to the small swells that swept down the
    channel.
    “This is insaneea”…Ocho said to Diego Coca, who
    was leaning against the wall of the small wheelhouse.
    “We’ll make it. We’ll reach the rendezvous in
    the Florida Keys an hour or two before dawn.
    Vamos con Dios.”
    “God had better be with usea”…Ocho muttered, and
    reached for Dora. The baby didn’t show yet. She
    was of medium height, with a trim, athletic frame.
    How well he knew her body.
    As far as he knew, he was the only one on the
    boat who had brought water or food. Oh, the other
    passengers had things, all right, sacks and boxes of
    things too precious to leave behind: clothes,
    pictures, silver, Bibles, rosaries,
    crucifixes that had decorated the walls of their
    homes and their parents” and grandparents’ homes.
    Boxes and sacks were stacked around each person, who
    sat on the deck or on his pile. Men, women,
    children, some merely babies in arms… It appeared
    to Ocho as if the Saturday night crowd from an
    entire section of ballpark bleachers had been
    miraculously transported to the deck of this small
    boat.
    The breeze smelled of the sea, clean, tangy,
    crisp. He
    took a deep breath, wondered if this were his last
    night of life.
    He