Saving the World by Julia Álvarez Page B

better. But our director, of course, had the greater glory of our enterprise to consider and not the silly fears of little boys, fears stoked by the envy of those who were staying behind.
    We must have looked a sight, dressed in the colors of Spain, the rectoress and her twenty-one boys! (At the last minute, Carlito had fallen ill and could not come along; a substitute boy I knew nothing about would be joining us on the ship.) Uniforms had again been Don Francisco’s idea. “We will be marching into villages and settlements in the wilderness and our attire must create a sense of wonder. It will impress, believe me.” Of course, I believed him. He had seen so much of the world, knew the hearts and minds of men and had ministered to their bodies. What did I know but mylittle round of duties, shut away in a foundling house for a dozen years? “And you, too, Doña Isabel, must wear our colors. You are now an official member of the expedition. The king has approved your appointment.”
    I, who had worn only black for so many years, was now dressed in crimson and gold! Nati was speechless. “I feel like a flag.” I laughed nervously.
    Nati shook her head. “You look like a lady. You will have to fight the men off with this.” She handed me the farewell gift she had purchased at the seamen’s bazaar, a hairpin with a pearl at one end for holding my veil in place. I did not have the heart to tell her that Don Francisco had ruled against my covering my face.
    At last, the boys had calmed down, lining up, an older one with a younger one at each hand. Out we went into the street, past the post where Benito had been tied, past the hospital where most of them had been abandoned, past the Carmelite convent with its grates at the window, where I perceived the vague shadows of Sisters looking out upon this commotion. I dared not glance back to where a tearful Nati and Doña Teresa stood at our doorway, calling out reminders to me and the boys. One glimpse of what I was leaving behind, and I feared that my heart, if not my limbs, would turn to stone.
    What on earth had I been thinking? My poor little boys, big-eyed, trying to be brave, were about to embark on a perilous journey! Eight of them, including my Benito, were no older than three—the younger the boy, the less likely he had ever been exposed to the smallpox. They still tottered on their land legs, still wet their bedding, though even some of the oldest had been doing so with the excitement of these last few days.
    I suppose I, too, was in a state. Not since my illness as a young girl had I shown my naked face in public. To my surprise, no one turned away or curled a lip in disgust. Awe had blotted out any defects. The crowd cheered for the boys! They cheered for the rectoress! “See,” I tried to rally my charges. “Everyone is so very proud of you.” They looked about warily, as if they were unsure whether they were soon to be fed cake or fed to the Leviathan.
    The
María Pita
loomed before us. Don Francisco had called it “a modest ship,” a last-minute choice after the larger frigate he had contractedwas delayed in repairs. One benefit of a smaller vessel was that it could enter the harbor and we were able to board right from the dock. I could not imagine the added trouble of a double embarkation: first onto a boat to take us out to sea, then up a rope ladder to the deck of a rolling ship, sails fluttering and filling with wind. My hands were full enough already! The boys were hanging back again, eyeing this floating house that squeaked and tilted as if one good stamp of the foot could break it apart. One thing was to have seen the ship from shore, another thing to climb on board and sail away until you could see land no more.
    â€œWhat an adventure we will have!” I quickened my step to encourage them. Of course, they hurried along. I was the one bit of firm land in this sea of strangers. They dared not