ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When I started writing The Protective Archangel, I did not know it would take me three years to finish, or that I would find a group of people willing to help me. For them, I give my sincerest gratitude.

First, I would like to thank my parents, Carlos Tomás Mayén and Irma Nora Morán, who brought me into this world and happily applaud me from heaven.

To my wife, Lourdes, for all of her help, love, understanding, and support during the three years of hard work.

To my children Itzel and Ian, who suffered in my absence, yet, at their young age, were interested in the development of each chapter and character.

To my brothers, Carlos and Ivan, for believing in me and encouraging me to continue writing.

To my cousin, Ronaldo Ticas, who, after reading the story, bombarded me with motivational words.

I can't forget my dear mother-in-law, Mrs. Alma Serrano de Pineda, and our family in France, the Best Serranos, for their prayers and support.

I am deeply grateful to Professor Theresa Tarlos for the countless hours she spent editing the work.

I am also indebted to Paco Patelo and Victor Carreon for their help in creating the website.

To www.silverlinphotos.com for the back cover photograph.

And finally to my friends Richard Guishi, Julia Jemeola, Rev. Msgr. Donald Romito, Marge Habeck, Billyjack Jory, and Gaia Goldstein, for all their support.

But above all, I wish to thank all of you, the readers for choosing to read this book, because it was written for you.

Eduardo Mayèn.

1

Joseph of Arimathea

Jerusalem

Year 30

The old man ran through the dusty streets of Jerusalem, his eyes clouded by tears. It was only one in the afternoon, yet the sky had darkened in the past hour, heralding the event which will forever impact humanity, that Friday, April 7th.

"What's happened, my lord?" Philip, his servant, asked, seeing him very distraught coming through the door of the luxurious mansion.

"They have crucified him! They have crucified him!" Joseph stammered, while gasping and crying like a child.

Joseph, was an elderly, kind man of medium height, his hair and beard white as snow, dark skin, and black eyes full of wisdom. He belonged to the Supreme Council of the Jews and was a native of Arimathea, a Judean village. He was a wealthy man who loved Jesus with all his heart, and for fear of the Jews, kept it a secret ever since he had first heard Him preach.

"I do not understand, my lord. Who was crucified?" Seeing the pain and misery of his lord, Philip seized him by the arm, helped him sit in a chair, and shouted for the other servants of the house. They appeared, rushing from everywhere, attracted by the commotion.

"Bring some water for our lord." Philip requested, without giving further explanation.

Philip was in his thirties, small in stature, thin, with black, short curly hair, light brown eyes, square face, and tanned skin. Concerned about his lord, he took him to his room, leaned him back, and gave him water to drink. The servants brought a small table, a silver platter of food, a jug of wine, and another filled with water and placed it at the side of the bed.

"They have crucified him! They crucified the Master! The Master was crucified!" Joseph repeated again and again. He was distressed, his hands and lips were trembling, he was sweating profusely, and his eyes were swollen and red from crying.

Sorrowful, Philip watched the wrinkles of the old man's face covered with a make up of sadness. 'He is a good man,'he thought. 'How can all this be happening to him?' Knowing that his lord was distressed about the death of Jesus, he sat on a chair to keep the old man company, and wept in silence.

Lulled by his sadness and numbed by his pain, Joseph gradually fell asleep.

By three in the afternoon, the wind picked up angrily raising huge clouds of dust which crashed against the walls of Jerusalem, climbed into the sky, and bathed the city from end to end. The city was surrounded with a somber semidarkness as if it were night, and the ground began to shake with powerful groans from its core. The rocks were splitting, tombs were opening, the mantle of the temple was torn in half, and people were screaming, frightened, running, and looking for an open field.

Joseph awoke, dazed, sat up in bed with a start, and remained motionless until the quake ended.

"Calm down my dear friend, it has already stopped shaking." Nicodemus said, rising from the chair where he was sitting, waiting for Joseph to awaken. "Concerned about your welfare and while you were sleeping, your servant Philip was looking for me and begged me to stay with you. God bless him! He is a faithful servant and loves you dearly."

"Nicodemus! Our Master, Jesus, was..." Joseph's face seemed to have aged suddenly and he looked distraught in the candle light which illuminated the bedroom.

"I know, I know." Nicodemus responded, and with a shrunken soul and a feeble voice, added. "How could they have crucified Him? From the start I wanted no part of something so horrific."

With their souls shattered by the fate of Jesus, Joseph and Nicodemus fused in an embrace, and wept bitterly.

Nicodemus was an honorable man and dedicated to the merchant trade. He had white hair and a neatly trimmed beard of the same color. He was short of stature, dark skinned, and had a skinny body lacking in muscle. He was a follower of Jesus, though from a distance, for fear of the Sanhedrin.

"Jesus needs us. We have no time to waste!" Joseph said, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robe and getting out of bed.

"But... if Jesus is..." his friend narrowed his eyes and shook his head, "How can a couple of old men help Him? We cannot just go there and take Him down from the cross. What do you think the Romans will do to us? The Sanhedrin? Caiaphas? Annas?"

"Before waking up, I had a dream where an angel of the Lord was calling me by name. He was dressed in white and shining like the sun. 'The peace of the Lord be with you.' He said and I became numb with fear. 'Go,' he said, 'and claim the body of Jesus from Pilate, find a linen sheet and bury Him on your property, on which no one has yet been buried.' I was shaking in terror, but with effort I dared to ask. 'Has Jesus died already?' The angelic being, looked at me lovingly and said. 'When you feel the Earth move under your feet, you will know that the Son of God has died.' And he disappeared."

"Then, He must have died!" Nicodemus sank into the chair as if someone had beaten him with a mallet.

"We must immediately do what the angel has asked; go and buy enough myrrh and aloe to make the perfume in which to wrap the body of our Lord. I will go to the fortification of Pontius Pilate and ask him to give me the body for burial." Joseph thought for a moment, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe one more time, and said, "I will send five of my servants to accompany you and help you carry the items."

"If the priests of the Sanhedrin find out what we are about to do, they'll skin us alive."

"If they find out, it is because the Lord has intended it that way." Joseph took a deep breath, as if filling himself with courage and added, "Jesus was crucified unjustly by the priests of the Sanhedrin and we have a mission to accomplish."

"May God be with you!"

"Wait for me with the servants in the mount of Golgotha, we'll all meet there."

"We will be there waiting for you."

When Joseph left the fort, he carried in his hands an order signed by the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, by which the body of the Nazarene will be released to him.

"I feared for your safety, my lord." Philip confessed to him, while the features of concern faded from his face, which had formed as he was anxiously waiting.

"God is with us, you have nothing to fear!" Joseph replied, walking as fast as his years permitted. "Pilate was surprised to learn the reason for my visit, but was even more surprised to learn that Jesus had died. Incredulous, he called the captain to ask how long ago it happened and after he was informed, he gave me the body of our Master without objection to relieve the distress in his soul for having been a part of such vile injustice."

Minutes later, they were walking hurriedly through the narrow streets of Jerusalem. Before leaving the city, they bought a linen sheet and continued toward the hill of Golgotha, accompanied by their pain and a storm of dust clouds which rushed over them like a raging lion.

When they reached Golgotha, at first glance, the sight was gloomy. The Roman soldiers, seeing that darkness was about to surround them, and the preparation for Passover awaiting them, in a hasty approached the crucified men and violently unpinned their bodies from the timber. The few followers of Jesus cried helplessly, watching the soldiers act like wild animals from afar.

Joseph hastened to deliver the signed order to the praetorian and a bag of coins to share with his men.

The man took the bag, rummaged in it, put it away carefully, and looked into Joseph's eyes, saying. "Truly, this man was righteous! My men will help you and protect you from any rebellion which may be caused by the enemies of the Nazarene, until you reach your destination with His body. But you must hurry; my soldiers have had a busy day and want all of this to end."

Joseph helped lower the body of Jesus and carefully wrapped Him in the linen cloth. His servants were carrying Him and the soldiers were escorting them to the tomb he owned which had been dug out of rock. Once on his property, they placed two torches inside the tomb to light it and a cauldron filled with the perfume prepared by mixing the myrrh and aloes, and brought in the Master's body and placed it on its final resting place.

The women, who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee, saw the crucifixion and followed the group of men carrying their Lord's remains to the grave, entered the tomb, and noticed how He had been set on the stone, they then departed in tears.

The old man and his best friend were the last to go inside and proceeded to cleanse the body of Christ. When they thought it was completely clean, they wrapped Him diligently with soaked bandages of exquisite perfume.

"How can any human stoop so low and commit such an atrocity?" Nicodemus wanted to know, looking with infinite sadness at the unrecognizable body of Jesus that had endured such severe punishment.

Joseph opened his mouth to answer, but a lump in his throat prevented it. His eyes blurred with tears, his lower lip trembling uncontrollably, he felt his strength deserting him, and his legs refused to hold him up. "Why?" he finally asked, in a voice that seemed more like a whimper. "What harm did He do with His teachings? Preaching the love for your neighbor is against God's law? The Supreme Council has committed the most infamous injustice in the history of mankind. Caiaphas and Annas will one day be held accountable by God himself. May the Lord have mercy on their souls!"

They continued wrapping the body as fast as they could, until it was done. Nicodemus left the tomb to ask the men waiting outside to have the stone ready when the old man came out.

Covered by a cloak of pain, Joseph took a linen cloth and gently wrapped Jesus' head and face.

"May the peace of the Lord be with you!" Said the same voice which had spoken in his dream and an angel appeared shining as the noonday sun.

Joseph sank, trembling with fear, and buried his face in the rocky surface of the tomb.

"Blessed are the clean of heart," the angel proclaimed, "for they will see God. Joseph of Arimathea, do not be afraid, God in His infinite goodness, has seen the pain in your heart and the purity of your soul. You have been chosen to do the Lord's work through the centuries. Lift your face, open your eyes, and rise; so you can see the greatness of God."

Trembling, as if he were possessed, Joseph lifted his face, opened his eyes, and stood up slowly. The messenger of God was shining like the sun, beautiful, with blond hair to his shoulders and pearly skin. He wore a white robe and was standing before him.

"This cross will rid the flock of the Heavenly Father from pain and suffering." The angel extended his hand and pointed his finger at the object glowing motionless in the air. "This flock will suffer under the yoke of the white man for centuries, it will be taken prisoner, chained against its will and be shipped across the ocean to a new land, where it will be sold as slaves, because the color of its skin, and treated inhumanely. In its suffering the flock will weep out to God the Father, crying and spilling their blood."

"May the will of God come upon me." The old man muttered, with a genuine note of panic in his voice.

Fearful and amazed, at the same time, Joseph looked as the beautiful cross came down to rest on the bandages covering Jesus' lifeless chest.

"Cover the cross with the rest of the bandages and avoid all contact with it until you receive the power to take it in your hands."

Joseph covered the cross until the glare disappeared behind the perfumed bandages, taking great care not to touch it, as he had been ordered by the angel of the Lord.

"It is necessary for the cross to remain hidden in this holy tomb, until the Son of God is raised on the third day. In time, the cross will be touched by many mortals throughout history and keep its power which the heavenly Father has bestowed upon it."

"What will happen on the third day?" Joseph asked.

"Come back here at dawn and I'll reveal God's plan to you. May the peace of Lord be with you."

The angel and the splendor which had mesmerized Joseph; disappeared instantly and silence took his place.

"Everything is ready." Nicodemus said, entering the tiny opening in the tomb. "The soldiers were helping us roll the stone, and are just waiting for you to finish so they may seal the entry. We must hurry, the preparation of Passover is about to begin."

Pale as he was, the old man saw the sad and gloomy shroud which had become his beloved Master. His eyes sought the crucifix, which he had covered with perfumed bandages, and sighed with relief when he realized that it was well hidden. Joseph took the two torches, which they had used to light the tomb, while his friend picked up the empty cauldron where the servants had prepared the exquisite perfume. They headed toward the opening, enveloped by infinite sadness, with weary steps they departed the tomb leaving behind the Master's body in darkness.

Then, with great effort they rolled the heavy stone and sealed the entrance to the tomb. The soldiers departed in a hurry. The women, who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee, remained there facing the tomb, crying with great sorrow.

The next day, April 8, Joseph and his best friend Nicodemus, prayed all day according to the commandment.

2

Four Ships

Port of Palos, Andalusia, Spain

1492

It was just one hour before dawn at the Port of Palos — one of the most important centers of maritime trade since the tenth century — The port was engulfed in darkness, even though the stars were twinkling like diamonds in the sky as well as the dim lanterns attempting to illuminate the harbor. The crowd, surrounded by the blackness of night, had gathered to see off the brave sailors who were about to embark on the greatest adventure in the history of Spain and of humanity. From the sea, a soft and cold breeze slid along, like an invisible feline among the gathered crowds, chilling them to the bone. Some of the gathered individuals were complaining bitterly, while others were grinding their teeth as they felt the icy touch.

The four ships were floating like ghosts in the sooty water of the dark harbor. The anchors were clinging to the seabed with sharp, curved claws holding the ships, to avoid being dragged to the shore and ending up stranded on the sand.

The crew boarded the ships the day before and worked tirelessly on the final preparations in order to attempt to ensure the success of the risky expedition they were about to embark upon. Below deck, the crew was loading provisions for a year, in addition to many trinkets, such as bells, bags full of glass marbles, mirrors, and needles to exchange for gold upon their arrival in India.

Admiral Christopher Columbus, a visionary and a man filled whit an adventurous spirit, dropped to his knees and humbly asked for the blessing and protection of the Almighty for his expedition.

"I feel the Creator's protective hand over me."

With that thought he made the sign of the cross and gave the order to sail from the flag ship, Santa María. The sails of the ships jubilantly unfurled; it was Friday August 3, 1492, the breath of the wind was mild, and the sea was calm.

In the darkness of night, they sailed slowly down the Rio Tinto as if they were ghosts in the night. The crew watched, with sadness, as the impressive lighthouse The Lantern, was being left behind. By the time they entered the open sea, the sun was up and warmed the sailors with its rays as they bid farewell, from the ship's deck, to their beloved Spain.

The Niña, Pinta, and Santa María, as if holding hands, swayed in the waves. Behind them sailed The Archangel, a brave and impressive galleon destined to protect the discoverers' fleet.

"Hold the course," Captain Fernando Solis shouted, looking with infinite pride at the powerful ships which he commanded.

Fernando Solis, a man with vast experience at sea, was a big man who stood nearly six feet. He possessed an imposing personality and authoritative voice, which was so powerful as to intimidate the men under his command. He was strict, with a straight face, yet he also knew how to laugh and could pierce the person with the coldness of his eyes. Captain Solis was brown-eyed had a bushy beard, which was neatly combed. He despised liars and had no tolerance for laziness. The captain was a simple but shrewd man.

The few people left in the harbor saw the lights of the ships getting smaller until they disappeared, swallowed by the immensity of the dark sea. There were several comments coming from the crowd.

"You have to be a fool to sail into the unknown!"

"Poor men, they do not know what awaits them."

"I feel like St. Thomas," one of them said. "I do not believe until I see! The day I see them return laden with gold and goods, and I shake hands with them, only then will I believe!"

Relatives of those who had sailed burst out crying and looked down as if returning defeated from a war.

The Archangel was the first galleon built for the Spanish crown and was the first in history to sail the seas. It weighed 550 tons, was 115 feet long, 34 feet wide, and had a draft of six feet. She was equipped with forty guns, had a crew of 266 men, three decks, and three masts, which stood like spears pointing skyward.

The mizzen, or rear mast, had lateen — triangular — sails, the major mast, which laid in the middle, as well as the foremast, were equipped with square sails. The proud masts, with arms extended sideways, tirelessly held the sails, while at the tip of the mast waving in the wind, were the flags of the powerful nation of Spain. In addition, many banners and pennants adorned this magnificent ship. On the transom, a beautiful Archangel was painted with great care, however, the most decorated part was the-aft deck covered with scrolls, garlands, and small carved figures being repeated along the sides of the mighty battleship. The majestic golden carvings were as bright as the sun. The waterline of the ship was protected with a dark shade of ocher paint as well brightly colored stripes along the edges.

The staff was ordered to gather on deck, the captain left his position on aft-deck, his cold piercing eyes, angry demeanor, and his authoritative voice rose above the sails and echoed in every nook and cranny of the ship. "On this ship there is only one person who gives orders and that person is me," he said in a cold tone of voice. "If you live up to your responsibilities, you will earn my respect, and that of my officers. However, if you choose to go against my rules, you'll hang from the highest mast, the depths of the sea will be your grave, and your soul will suffer forever between the waves, beset by demons which roam the ocean depths."

The captain's voice and words attacked the crew like a sharp sword. The insult felt like a hammer hitting at their dignity with full strength, trampling their honor with full weight, leaving a mark like a permanent tattoo, which would last until the end of this journey. Break my rule and you'II wish that you were never born.

Most crew members were people of humble background and with an uncertain future. While Spain became powerful and rich, they and their families were plunged into abject poverty. Driven by the ravages of poverty, the lure of fame, and the supposed riches they would acquire if they were to find a new route to the India. They embarked on this journey carrying their dreams and hopes on their shoulder as baggage, the lust for gold consuming their soul, they willingly returned to work in silence.

"Father, good morning," Captain Fernando Solis shouted from the forecastle.

"Good morning, Father," added the second in command, Juan Del Valle, with a friendly smile.

Juan Del Valle, a descendant of a proud generation of officers in the service of Spain, was second in command. He had pale skin, a sharp nose, and a narrow elongated face ending in a thick mustache, dark hair, and black large serene eyes. Juan had been serving under the command of the Captain over a decade and was his best friend since childhood.

"Good morning, God bless you children!" The Father answered, wearing his robes, old and worn out from constant use.

"My wife considered you a miracle man!" said the Captain.

"Only God makes miracles, Captain! I'm just His servant."

"Many said that you have healed the sick through prayer. Even some of the crew members have said so."

The Franciscan, Diego de la Cruz, who had small brown eyes, a nose like an eagle, reflected for a moment. The commanding officers noticed the small messy beard, the smooth page hairstyle, and the huge shaved top, which shone like a mirror in the sun. Finally, he spoke:

"Jesus said, If you have faith, even the size of a mustard seed, and you would say to this mulberry tree, Be up rooted and planted in the sea, it would obey you." A wooden crucifix hung on his chest by a cord, which had once been white, moved with the rhythm of the ship.

"We won't forget, Father, we have plenty of time to consider your words during this voyage."

The officers broke into hysterical laughter, which took a while to quell, however his words echoed in their hearts. On land, they were men of honor, good Catholics devoted to God and their country. They participated in religious services with their families, and fulfilled the commandments in their entirety. They were irreproachable men, husbands, fathers, and patriots; however, once at sea they forgot their parishioner's vows and embraced their obligations to their task with great discipline. In local ports, they frequented disreputable places, drank heavily and, like animals, jumped into bed with cheap prostitutes, as abundant as fleas, who wrestled with any man for a handful of coins.

"There are many sinners on this ship, you will have much work to do during the voyage." Juan Del Valle said with a smirk.

"I'd better start to pray to the Creator for you two." The slight servant of the church answered.

The officers glanced at each other and burst into hysterical laughter. Their many sins were clearly reflected on their faces, like a small child caught in a lie, while the skinny silhouette of the cleric walked away, mingling with the other crew members.

"Father." cried the captain, trying to stifle his laughter. "Would you do me the honor of dining with us?"

"God willing, I'll be there!"

Captain Francisco Solis was passionate about the sea. His long years of service to Spain and his great deeds have earned him the respect of superiors and subordinates alike. Three months ago, the Catholic monarchs of Spain ordered him to come before them, convinced by the Genoese views that the Earth was round, and one could sail west, by a new route, and reach the India.

"I've actually come to confide in you on a very sensitive and important mission." The king said, stroking his chin and focusing on him.

"I am at your service, your majesty."

The monarch's eyes narrowed, and few tiny furrows appeared on his serene face.

"As you know, the expansion of the Turks since 1453 has created disaster for the economy and morality of the West, it has closed the Mediterranean trade route and has deprived the Europeans of much-needed spice, as well as other goods, yet the plantations are located in Asia."

"As are the famous silks and perfumes of the Orient," the queen added.

"This, as you can imagine," continued the monarch, "has greatly affected our economy," he relaxed his face and the fine lines faded. "The closing of the Mediterranean has diminished the morale and caused the fall of the Byzantine Empire."

"The Great Roman Empire?" interrupted the captain, wanting to impress the king with his knowledge of history.

"Precisely," the king said, gesturing with his hand to indicate that he does not want to be interrupted. "It was the last bastion of Christianity in Asia, therefore, it is imperative to seek alternative routes to enable us to continue to trade without the current hazards."

Trying to absorb the monarch's words, Captain Solis bit his lip. He was familiar with the past events and as a result knew of the numerous complications suffered by his homeland. However, what does that have to do with him if he was not even a merchant?

"We have been notified Portugal is preparing for a voyage to the East, perhaps someone by the name of Vasco de Gama will be sailing to the East by the same route as Christopher Columbus has proposed. If this is true," a hint of concern was reflected on the king's face, "It would affect us greatly, and you know... we cannot allow Portugal, nor anyone other than our beloved Spain, to rob us of the possibility of being first to control this new sea route. Now, do you see the importance of what I am proposing?"

"I'm at your disposal, your majesty." The captain replied, wondering again what all this talk had to do with him.

"Have you heard of the plans of Admiral Christopher Columbus?" Queen Isabella asked.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Do you know him?"

"I heard very little, your majesty."

"Have you heard the rumors from the subjects of the court that he is crazy?"

In agreement with the queen the captain nodded his head, implying Colon was unbalanced and trying to deceive the king with his nonsense.

"Last April," interrupted King Ferdinand II of Aragón, "We signed the Capitulations of Santa Fe, where it stipulated the conditions by which, the now Admiral Christopher Columbus, will take the trip whose aim is to find a route which takes us to the Indies. This trip is a fact and is the reason for you appearing before us. You have been chosen to be part of this journey and you'll be the captain of a galleon."

Now the captain had no doubt, he was being embroiled into a complicated situation, and his face darkened. 'What would my colleagues say when they find out that I will sail with the crazy Columbus? Why must they choose me, having so many other officers in Spain to choose from, and what was a galleon anyway?' "A galleon?"

"Yes, a Galleon," Queen Isabella of Castile replied. King Ferdinand II of Aragon, looked at her with pride, "and I've named the ship, The Archangel"

"Spain," the sovereign resumed the conversation, with little regard for the confusion which was etched on the face of the officer, "being a maritime power, it needs to maintain its naval superiority at all cost. As you can imagine, this situation has prompted us to build more effective and reliable vessels for trade and war. The galleon, is but a derivation of the ratchet combined with the speed of the caravel. Adding heavy weapons and a marine infantry, no doubt, will make it invincible in battle." He looked at him carefully, hoping to see any reaction, but the officer's throat went dry, his lips glued together, and his heart in his feet gave no sign of any kind of reaction.

The king continued, indifferent, "Your mission is to protect the vessels during the voyage, destroy any Portuguese ship that you may encounter on the journey. Also, you will follow closely the development of this expedition and observe if Admiral Columbus suffers from dementia, as it is being murmured. If so, you will arrest him and take control of the ships and the expedition. Needless to say, this will be a daring and dangerous enterprise. We believe in you and in your experience! Spain needs you!"

"I am at your Majesty's service."

"You will have the honor of being the first in charge of this new and powerful ship, and with the blessing of The Virgin of the Navigators and your experience, the India voyage will be a resounding success. God be with you!"

The captain displayed the usual reverence as he departed the monarchs. He was not very enthusiastic about the idea of navigating with a crackpot named Columbus to the unknown desolate seas, and about which there were many frightening stories told, nevertheless, he was excited 'I'll be the first Spanish officer in command of a galleon,' he thought, feeling as if luck was smiling upon him.

On leaving the palace, the king's words reverberated in the captain's head. Since that day, he could not stop thinking about the mysterious, but necessary journey across the ocean and, as he knew the success of the mission depended largely on him, he became passionate about the arrangements and preparations.

During one of the many nights, when the captain could not close his eyes, he told his wife, "This truly is an honor bestowed upon me by the monarchs. Spain secretly built a new warship, it will be the first to sail the seas and I have been chosen to command the galleon! What pride! What an honor for our family! Even the Pinzón brothers, who commanded the two other Columbus caravels, they no longer talk to me, stung by their own envy." His wife, with her eyes closed in sleep, congratulated him with a kiss, turned around, blew out the candle, and fell asleep.

The critics and negative comments within the court quickly sprouted and spread across the city like wildfire. Captain Solis's new assignment caused envy among other officers, however, he gave it no importance or cared to know who was behind the gossip. In passing, they looked at him askance and greeted him between clenched teeth, unable to hide their jealousy about his good fortune. Few congratulated him, others with terror on their faces and frightened voices, approached him to share their opinion about such an absurd journey, as did his friend Gonzalo.

"Fernando, it is said the currents become dangerous and treacherous as you sail several days on the ocean. There," he continued his story with a chill, "the ferocity of the wind produces huge waves, where ships lose control, and are carried by ocean currents for several days. Suddenly, the wind stops blowing, currents mysteriously disappear and leave the sea calm. No wind and no sea currents, the vessels remain as still as corpses and the time stands still. At that point, from the dark depths of the sea, monstrous creatures emerge, enormous in size, murderous beasts! They, with their giant tentacles embrace the vessel with the hug of death, crush it with formidable force until they destroy it, and with its huge jaw swallow the terrified sailors as if they were fish."

Bored by the silly story of his friend, Captain Solis thought, 'If Gonzalo does not shut up soon, I will slap him.'

"Those who survive end up floating, clinging to the debris scattered from the ship and, when they believe everything was over, they observe terrified, how the surface of the sea opens, and a huge gray snake emerges with sharp quills running down its back. The sailors see a horse-faced demon, with elongated, red fire-like eyes, a pair of bat-like elongated ears, and nostrils so large that a human could stand up in them, horrified and desperately screaming, trying to escape by swimming like mad, but the monsters, with hair raising screech, jump nimbly out of the water with their mouth open, bared teeth as sharp as razors, and disappear under the water with their prey."

Gonzalo swallowed, and carefully chose his last words, hoping his friend would refrain from taking the journey.

"Fernando, I do not wish that you become a small red spot on the surface of this vast ocean. Please reconsider, you have a family!"

When the priest arrived for dinner in the cabin, the men burst out laughing, remembering his exploits at sea. The captain, the second in command, a few officers, and envoys of the king's court were sitting around the table, while others, of lower rank, shared the joyful gathering by standing around.

"Please come in Father, and excuse the madness!" the men stood up to welcome him. "I do not think you know our surgeon, Marco Núñez, nor the clerk of the court of Spain, Sebastián Estrada. This is inspector Hernando Montejo, our lieutenant Alonso García and Felipe de la Barra, head of the artillery, also please meet Luis Oñate, Federico Muñoz, Bartolomé Ávila, and of course, our second in command, Juan Del Valle, whom you have previously met. Please take a seat, Father!"

Matías, the cook and his two assistants, appeared carrying trays of food which gave off exquisite scents. The officers were gorging themselves as if famished, and drank wine as if they have spent days in a desert. The priest, with his slight stature, seemed totally out of place among this group of unruly seafaring men, talking and laughing uncontrollably.

"I congratulate you Captain, you have an excellent cook," said the court clerk, with a highly feminine gesture.

The guests raised their glasses and toasted in unison.

"To Matías, the chef."

Matías had devoted many years of his life to perfecting his culinary art. He was tall, slim, with long hair, his face covered with wrinkles and furrows. Proud to hear the compliment he puffed his chest out like a toad, in order to draw attention.

"What do you think of this crazy expedition?" the surgeon asked, looking at the captain through his glasses.

Solis stopped chewing, while his face hardened. Seeing the reaction of their superior, the officers and sailors became terrified. A notable silence gripped the room and a thread of tension fell over the cabin, which was reflected on their faces. The captain lowered his eyebrows, his dark eyes squeezed tightly and became two tiny lines, leaning back in his chair, which creaked, and he stared at the surgeon, who was patiently waiting for a response.

"What do you think?" The captain asked, and then he laughed out aloud, which broke the tension and his laugh resounded throughout the ship.

The terrified men came to life with a raucous laugh.

The surgeon, Marco Núñez, was chosen for the expedition because of his great knowledge in the field of medicine. He was short, balding and dedicated to his work; eating excessively, he was quite large, and had a double chin.

"Father, do you feel okay? You have not eaten anything!"

The preacher looked pale, had an upset stomach, and was dizzy. "I think the sea and I still do not get along, my son." he replied, suffering, while the men laughed.

"The human being," the captain said, squinting as if weighing what he was about to say, "is one of the mortals completely out of his element at sea, and the body reacts accordingly. Do not worry, within a few days your discomfort will be behind you, and you will only have the bad memory. But if there is a storm, you will know what it really means to feel miserable."

"Forgive my boldness, Father. Do you fear the sea?" Felipe de la Barra asked, "When you are at sea for a long time, as we are, you learn to respect it and as you get to know it, you lose your fears and you treat it like an old friend."

Felipe de la Barra was in charge of artillery, a maritime veteran, square faced, with a dark complexion a long beard, sprinkled with gray strands, big brown eyes like a falcon, and gray hair sweeping his shoulders.

"It is quite true what you said," interrupted inspector Hernando Montejo, while filling his glass with wine. When he finished, he fixed his gaze on him and added. "As true as it may be, the sea is treacherous and dangerous, although you may believe the ocean is your friend."

Everyone gathered had a hard time controlling their laughter while Felipe de la Barra, blushing, looked daggers at them, yet no comments crossed his lips.

"Let Father give us his opinion." the captain said kindly.

The tiny religious, slowly leaned back in his chair to answer, but he felt his strength desert him, although there was no storm, he felt miserable, everything was spinning, and the little food he had eaten was about to be expelled on the table. Trying to overcome his discomfort, he replied.

"My only fear is of God." Those gathered in the cabin crossed themselves devoutly, at the same time. "All of us, no matter where we are, are subject to His will, and as we embark on a voyage, we are also subject to the dangers of the sea." A few drops of sweat began to descend from his forehead to his face, betraying his effort not to regurgitate his food. "The fear to which you referring is not from the sea... it comes from the fear of death, which is intensified when you realize how tiny and helpless we are, compared with the vast creation of God. For most human beings, death is a process where one will account for his acts throughout ones life, knowing in advance the disastrous results — caused by the sinful life they lead — they suffer and yet choose to turn their backs on God Almighty, sinking into the dark and murky world of Satan and thus condemning their soul for all eternity."

The sailors waited in silence, still and docile as sheep, while the priest was wiping the sweat beading on his forehead, pale as he was, continued the conversation.

"Jesus said, I am the resurrection and the life, and he who believes in me, though he dies shall live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."

The meek sheep stared at him, unable to hide their discomfort and admiration.

"You who have dedicated your life to God, what do you think awaits us in this journey across this vast ocean?"

Father could no longer hear anything, he felt as if his throat was opening like the crater of a volcano ready to erupt, violently. Hurriedly, and with his face white as a sheet, he jumped from his chair, as if he were sitting on burning coal, covered his mouth with one hand, and ran as if pursued by Lucifer himself.

The men saw him fade away and were baffled and wondered what had happened. A few seconds later, Matías, the cook came in with a bottle of wine in each hand and broke the silence by asking.

"What happened to Father? He is hanging over the side of the ship spitting his guts out."

The crew in the cabin broke into another bout of loud laugh.

Nine days later, the fleet made a stop in the Canary Islands to make some repairs and replenish their supplies. Three days later, on September 6^th, they raised anchor again and the tops of the volcanic islands, which seemed to be touching the sky, disappeared behind them. The days spent at sea were breathtakingly quiet and the favorable wind seemed as a divine gift. However, the sailors remained absorbed in their work, shifts of six hours per day, yet, they could not dismiss the loathsome legends which were told of those uncharted waters. The deck was kept neat, clean, and shining like a mirror. The load was constantly checked and the lines were checked three times daily. The gunners under the command of Felipe de la Barra, practiced every day a mock attack and were trying to shorten the time it took to load and fire the forty cannons of the ship. The sentinels, were stationed in the rigging of the ship, combing the four cardinal points in search of ships displaying Portuguese flags.

At sun rise, each day, Mass was being offered. The sailors with their heads uncovered, their eyes closed, on their knees, and their heart filled with faith, shared in Holy Scriptures. They devoured the Holy Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, and humbly begged with their prayers to God for the salvation of the soul, for the forgiveness of sins, for the grievous sins like thorns, afflicted the spirit, for the transgressions that tortured the depths of their being, for involuntary transgressions toward their fellow man, and for the sins of the flesh marking them as unworthy sons of the Creator. Finally, the heartrending vice... hatred and evil thoughts were thrown into the depths of the sea, so they will never again darken their soul. In the evening, they were singing, with great devotion, Salve Regina.

The month of September was slowly dying and gave way to the first day of October. The crew welcomed it with great expectations while singing on their knees Gloria in Excelsis Deo. (Glory to God in the highest).

At four weeks of sailing, the members of the fleet looked sunburned and with scruffy beards spreading across their face covering more and more of it with each passing day. The clothing, besides being dirty, was permeated with sweat and salt, from the splashes of the sea. They could not complain about the food — because Matías and his two assistants were superb cooks — nor about work, since it was somewhat easy but tedious.

Even so, tension cruelly crushed them by the horrible isolation they were living; loneliness as a wicked executioner tortured their thoughts and exaggerated the sorrow they felt for their families.

Fear also began to eat away at the little comfort they enjoyed in their time of rest, convinced that one of those nights they would be victims of the giant sea beasts; they spent the nights floundering in monstrous nightmares which kept them awake, and made them feel without a doubt, they will all end up sleeping on the bottom of the sea.

As the darkness surround the galleon, creaking and groaning from the crash of the waves and the wind blowing with ghostly power shaking the sails, and the masts quivered and groaned as rabid animals, to show their anger. The frightened sailors, trembling with fear, were praying to the Virgin of the Mariners. It was one of those nightmare nights, when men were brutally harassed by the isolation, loneliness, and sadness. It was one of those nights when the despair for their families and the fear of the monstrous creatures of the sea caused them to riot. It was on one of those nights, when the crew resented the captain's cold stare, it was on one of those nights when the sting of his words reminded the sailors that he was in charge, and the penalty for insubordination will be severe. Plunged into darkness, they were drowning in a sea of despair, remembering their beloved country they whispered secretly, harassed by fear, again and again, planning to take over the ship, take the captain into their hands, throw him overboard, and return where they had started from. However, when dawn appeared, once again they would accept their fate and return to their daily tasks.

The galleon never lost sight of the ships, which traveled on the calm waters of the ocean plowing a new route to the Indies. The wind blew steadily from the east and with its breath, inflated the sails as if they were balloons. The sun, as an old friend, got up early and shined with enthusiasm, its warm rays resting on the fleet which slowly advanced and with its friendly face, looked down on the tiny ships with eyes full of curiosity.

On October 4^th the wind went on strike, the sails went completely limp and hung lifeless on the masts. The ships sat motionless as soldiers killed on the battlefield, and the silence came over them as they floated on a blanket of calm water, where — as Gonzalo had told the captain — ocean currents were unknown and frightening. Thus, the fleet remained stagnant and the crew's fears kept increasing.

On the third day after the wind subsided and the shadows of the night began to surround the ships, the men huddled in front of the captain's cabin and demanded, full of anger, the return to Spain.

"What is this racket about? What is your problem?" Juan Del Valle demanded with a threatening tone and without waiting for an answer, ordered. "Return to your duties."

"Sir, we are stranded in the middle of nowhere." responded a sailor, fearfully.

"The sea monsters." shouted someone from behind.

"This could be the end of our lives!" said someone from the crowd.

"We are lost! The current is dragging us to the end of the Earth where we'll fall helplessly into an abyss." added an anguished voice.

"Are you crazy? Return to your duties, immediately! Soon the wind will blow again and we will continue our journey, we must prepare for that, what kind of sailors are you? I also prefer a choppy sea and quiet days make me nervous, as well."

"We were fools to come on a journey which was filled with bad omen from the start." Pedro, the carpenter shouted. "We don't want to be devoured by sea creatures; we want to return to Spain."

"Yes! We want to return this very moment." The sailors shouted with rage.

With bloodshot eyes, they jumped on the officer with intent to wring his neck.

Quickly, the other officers appeared on deck, armed and ready to subdue the rebels without mercy.

"In the name of the king of Spain, I command you to free the officer and return to your duties," demanded the captain, shouting. "Otherwise, I swear on my mother's grave, that you will hang from the mainmast until you rot."

The captain shot his arquebus in the air and the officers pointed their guns at the rowdy crew.

The noisy chatter of the angry and confused sailors abruptly stopped. A tense silence fell over the deck, paralyzing the frantic rebels who sagged like sails on the masts from the lack of wind.

Juan Del Valle was lying on the floor in the fetal position, vomiting blood.

"Take over the ship." Pedro the carpenter shouted, with a dagger in his hand which was stained in red.

3

The Birth

Davis Plantation, Talbot County, Maryland

July, 1840

July was simmering in summer heat and from the blue dome above, the sun sprinkled Maryland with its rays, bathing it with unbearable heat. The past few nights, a bright round moon was strolling through the countryside, but tonight was different; it was cold, cloudy, dark, and raining. Raindrops streamed like bullets and crashed to the ground transforming into, what seemed like, streams of chocolate which snaked wildly over dirt roads. Lightning temporarily lit up the sky covered by a blanket of blackish clouds, accompanied by trumpets of reckless thunder which reverberated across the land. The wind scurried through the trees, swaying the branches to and from, tearing at the leaves and sending them flying through the air. The storm became increasingly irritating by the crudeness with which it whipped everything in its path, frustrated by the unknown duration and the havoc it will create upon its departure.

The horses, pulling a black carriage made their way, occasionally running, almost flying on a carpet of water, mud and leaves in the dark of night.

"Hurry up, William! Hurry up!" shouted the man, inside the carriage.

"Giddap! Giddap!" William was shouting with all his strength, snapping the whip on the muscular body of the frantically running horses, exasperated by the lash of the whip, pulling the carriage with all their might, while inwardly cursing the driver who was cruelly, flagellating them.

The carriage was creaking as if complaining, and was cursing against the merciless downpour which kept it in a continuing fight to maintain balance and keep moving forward. It was swearing at the ailing road which was causing the carriage to shake violently from side-to-side, as if shouting insults against the rampaging beasts, which expelled smoke from the nostrils, as if they were chimneys. Surrounded by clouds of fog, the exhausted horses came to a stop in front of the grand Davis family mansion. Restless, they kept neighing, while rhythmic waves of lighting tore the sky in to puzzle-like pieces, which caused them to hammer their hooves on the cobblestone pavement and as victims of fear, were kicking and shaking their heads impatiently.

Tired from the arduous journey, William was also showing his discontent. Water was running from his hat to the soles of his shoes, his face numb and at the point of being frozen, his hands and feet crippled by the cold had lost most of their sensation and were barely responding to the touch. He had to make a superhuman effort to walk, under these conditions, and control the frightened animals.

"Doctor!" shouted a mulatto, with gray hair and a thin frame who was waiting by the door with a towel in his hand and whose teeth were mercilessly chattering.

"Henry, where is your mistress?" The doctor asked, taking off his raincoat, gloves and his water soaked hat.

"Please follow me, I will take you to her immediately." the servant replied, while hurriedly hanging the dripping garments on a rack in the lobby.

As fast as he could walk, the doctor followed the mulatto who led him up the marble stairs to the second level. Henry pointed to the door with his right hand, and left without saying a word.