The Woman in Red Read online

  “To be honest, I am not surprised. Hector is a magistrate; you both have an image to uphold, and I am a tainted woman.”

  “But you aren’t, Anita, don’t you see? It’s not too late, it can’t be.”

  I took her head in my hands. “It is too late. There is no going back for me.”

  “You are taking a path that I can’t follow.”

  “I know, but please, do not mourn me,” I pleaded. “I swear to you I am happy.”

  Manuela slowly walked away, her shoulders hunched, her head hanging low. I sucked in a quick breath. It felt like the door was finally closed on my past; there was no going back to my old life. I should have been feeling elated. Finally I was free, but a strange feeling of remorse filled me.

  The sea breeze blew through the palm trees that lined the coast. It sounded like hundreds of papers rustling. At the base of the trees men steadily worked repairing the ships. As the sun broke through the clouds, the remorse still clung to me as I set out along the harbor to clear my head.

  I couldn’t understand it. I hated living here. Everything about this place felt like a cage. Why was it that I felt this sadness?

  When I was a child, my father and I discovered a tamandua near our house. The tamandua looked like a little bear but with a long nose and tail. It was only after a few moments of watching it scavenge for termites that we saw the bloodied, mangled paw. Immediately feeling pity, I implored my father to catch the animal so that we could nurse it back to health. He obliged, throwing a blanket over it and bringing it back to the toolshed, where we placed it in a pen typically reserved for small calves. For weeks my father and I nursed the tamandua back to health, feeding it mounds of dirt filled with termites. I delighted in seeing its long, skinny tongue jut out and lap up all the insects.

  When the time came to release it, it didn’t want to go and I was more than willing to keep it with us forever, but my father disagreed. “You can’t keep a wild thing. They’ll always crave their freedom.”

  My father took down two large pieces of metal and clanged them together, causing such a ruckus that I put my hands over my ears. The tamandua ran as fast as it could, out of our shed and into the woods.

  Was I like that tamandua?

  “Hey there, little renegade. I heard you had quite an adventure.” The sound of Griggs’s voice brought me back to the present.

  His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped from his brow as he used a hooked blade to dig into the side of José’s ship, the Rio Pardo. When he heard me approach he turned to me with a smile. “How are you holding up?”

  I smiled despite myself. “I’ll survive.”

  He nodded. “Come have a seat. Keep me company while I work.”

  I sat on a crate watching as he repaired the caulking on the ship. Meticulously, he pulled out the oakum with his blade, discarding it in a crate next to him. “Can you hand me that cotton next to you?”

  I passed him the long cord of cotton, which he put in place of the oakum he had removed. Using his knife, he forced it into the gap between the planks, working until no more would fit. He cut off the excess and picked up two brushes. “All right, you are going to learn how to finish caulking a ship.”

  “I’m going to do what?” I took one of the brushes awkwardly in my hands.

  “Basically, make sure the ship doesn’t leak, because Lord knows your José is quite hard on his toys.” He opened his mouth to say something more but stopped. “I have also found that when life has gotten you down, the best therapy is a little ship caulking.” He adjusted the brush in his hand so he could brush the tar on parallel with the boards of the ship. “Do it just like this. Slow and steady.”

  I mimicked his actions as we worked together in silence, Griggs digging out the old oakum, me replacing it. Then together we painted the tar onto the ship. With each move, the pain ebbed away until all that was left was the ship, the tar, and my friend. My old life was gone, I didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow, and frankly, it didn’t matter. I had left my cage behind.

  Later that evening I sat on our bed brushing out my hair when José stormed into our tent. “I can’t believe this!” He rattled off what I recognized as a string of Italian obscenities. “I can’t believe the idiocy of that man!” He threw his hat to the ground.

  “Who?” I asked.

  José turned to me, a dark vein protruding from his temple, accentuated by his red face. “General Canabarro!” he yelled in frustration as if I should already know what he was talking about. “That allocco!” he grumbled as he slumped onto the bed.

  I jerked involuntarily at the profanity of his words. I had heard the sailors speak this way but never José. He dropped his face into his hands, leaving behind a tired mass of a man. He slowly looked up. “I am sorry, tesoro mio, I didn’t mean to be angry with you.”

  Cautiously reaching out to him, I took his forearm in my hands. “Tell me what happened,” I said as I began to massage his wrist.

  “Canabarro has it on good authority that Imaruí has turned on us. They have gone back to supporting the Imperialist regime.” Imaruí was a small village twenty miles north of us. There wasn’t much in the tiny town beyond sun-dried fishermen and broken nets.

  “He ordered me to raid the town. Like a pirate.” He shook his head. “I…I just…If we make an example of these people like he wants, the Imperial army will fall on us hard and fast.”

  “Then tell him no.”

  “I did. It was either follow his orders or leave.” He turned to face me. “God help me, Anita, I can’t give up. Not now.”

  In that moment I saw the boy that he must have once been. He was heartbroken over what he must do. I pulled him to me, holding on to him as strongly as I could. He surrendered to me, letting his weight press against me. In that moment I knew I had to be strong enough for the both of us.

  José sat back up and looked at me. “Anita, I need you to stay here.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me by lifting a finger to my lips. “I need you to stay here because I need you to work with Griggs. I’ve tasked him with collecting every dinghy, boat, and raft available. You know this town better than any of my sailors. If I am right, we are going to need all of them. Can you do that? Can you help me prepare?”

  Taking his hands in mine, I pressed them to my chest so that he could feel my heart beat. “Yes.”

  Twelve

  December 1839

  I watched from the cart as the Rio Pardo sailed from Laguna under a rippling gray sky. My heart sank at the knowledge that José was on that ship without me. Wrenching my eyes from the ship, I turned forward. I had a job to do.

  “Hee-ya!” Griggs called, snapping the reins, causing the cart to lurch forward. “So, little renegade, which way first?” he asked.

  I pointed to the north. “The outskirts of the town should have plenty of poor men willing to sell off their boats.”

  Griggs nodded in agreement. “I want to move fast; we’re going to get rain soon.” He was right, the air was thick with moisture.

  In the cart behind us I could hear the three sailors who accompanied us bantering. We worked steadily all morning through the mist. When we got back to town I led the men to a shop I knew to be loyal to the revolution.

  “Puta.” The voice was gruff and cold as it reached my ears. The word stung, causing me to pause, but I knew it was better not to add fuel to the flame.

  I continued to walk; however, as I turned to speak to Griggs, he was no longer behind me. He was standing nose to nose with a dirty-faced gaucho with six men around him. Griggs had only our three sailors for support. I rushed over to them.

  “Where I come from, we don’t speak to ladies that way,” Griggs hissed through clenched teeth.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Well then, maybe you should go back to where you came from, norte-americano. Here we call a whore a whore.”

  “Enough!” I yelled, stepping into the middle. “We don’t need this.” I p
ulled Griggs’s arm. “Come on.” He let me pull but stayed put.

  “Go on, norte-americano, let the puta give you orders.” The men around him laughed. “I guess that’s how they do things where you come from.”

  Without warning Griggs head-butted the man, instantly dropping him to his knees. The sailors pulled out their pistols, ready for a fight. I pushed Griggs in the chest with all my weight. He relented, backing up slowly.

  One of our sailors laughed. “Take care of your comrade.”

  “She’s still a puta!” one of the dirty gauchos called out as he lifted his friend off the ground.

  One of our sailors, a large freed slave, grabbed his genitals. “I’ll show you a whore!” He threw his head back in a fierce laugh, revealing a set of large, rotten teeth as the gauchos looked disgusted. “All your wives already know me,” he taunted. They dragged their friend away, clearly not wanting any more trouble.

  “What did you think you were doing?” I yelled, rounding on the men like a schoolmistress.

  “Defending your honor.” Griggs looked stricken.

  “Oh, is that what that was?” I poked a finger in his chest. “When I need help defending my honor, I will be sure to call you. Fighting with a bunch of worthless drunks is not defending my honor.” I turned, storming away down the street.

  “North or South America, they’re all alike,” I heard Griggs mumble from somewhere behind me.

  * * *

  José returned to Laguna two weeks later. Griggs and I proudly lined up the twenty extra boats and the dozens of crates of goods and ammunition that we had scavenged. José clapped my shoulder like I was one of his sailors. “You have done an admirable job.”

  José’s smile was different; the corners of his mouth weren’t lifted. Something was wrong. He drifted away toward the ship. I looked to Griggs, who reflected my concern. I followed José onto the ship and into our cabin. “Talk to me.”

  “There is nothing to say.” He got up to move past me to the door, but I stopped him.

  “José, we don’t lie to each other, remember? Tell me what happened.”

  He stood there for a moment. Twice he opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words to say. He turned from me, bending his head down, taking in two deep breaths. When he finally was able to speak, his voice came out hoarse and tense. “Canabarro had us pick up fifty extra recruits. Fresh…” He trailed off, looking beyond me, looking at the ghosts that passed across his vision. “My God, the destruction.” He sighed. “We got to the town and they were like animals.”

  He sat down on the bed with a heavy thud. “When you plunder, there is an amount of devilry that as a captain you have to turn the other way on. Harassing the women, looting and burning, but these men…they didn’t care.” He dropped his head into his hands. After a moment’s reflection he slowly looked up, wiping his hands over his face as he did. “They set buildings on fire, with no regard for who was in them. They openly raped women right in the streets.

  “I killed one.” He looked up at me with large, sad eyes. “I was riding through the carnage and I saw him having his way with a young girl.” His voice cracked. “She was just a child. I was so disgusted, I…I ran him through as I rode by. I didn’t even yell, didn’t give him any warning. I killed him while he was on the girl. I killed my own man.”

  I sat next to him on the bed in silence. “You did what you had to under the circumstances.” I reached out and took his wrist, beginning to tenderly massage it. “You can’t control all of your men’s actions all of the time.”

  “Can’t I?” José pulled his arm away. “When I go into battle, I know my men. I know each and every name. They are disciplined. If I give an order, they do not think twice about taking it. They have to be that way. I can’t bring them home unless we operate like a finely tuned machine. Those men, the ones that I picked up on my way to Imaruí, were demons, pure evil incarnate.” José looked away, focusing on his boots. “Imaruí is gone,” he whispered. “I had to scream like the devil himself to get them under control. If I didn’t, I don’t think they would have even gotten back on the ship. They would have followed the townspeople who escaped into the woods.”

  After a moment I reached up to touch his arm. He jumped. “We burned everything.” He sighed. “There’s nothing left.”

  “The Imperial army is going to retaliate, aren’t they?”

  “I’d lose respect for them if they didn’t,” he responded, looking back up at me.

  Thirteen

  January 1840

  José was right. The raid on Imaruí was seen as a blatant insult to the government. The fourteen-year-old king, Dom Pedro II, wanted to put an end to this insurrection that his regents, a succession of three, each one weaker than the last, had allowed to continue. Dom Pedro II determined this was his opportunity to start his reign with a show of strength. He would not be a fragile ruler like the regents that preceded him. The king was prepared to bring the full wrath of the Imperial army down on the Farrapos and anyone who harbored them.

  He called our attack on Imaruí a massacre. The articles in the papers decried the loss of life due to the horrendous actions of the mercenary known as Giuseppe Garibaldi. They went on to further provoke the monarchy, saying he was being made a cuckold. The young king decided he would put an end to our rebellion once and for all and that end would come at Laguna, the port town that dared to shelter the man responsible for making him a fool.

  One morning, a month after the attack on Imaruí, while the ship was still, I lingered in José’s embrace, listening to the sound of the water slapping against the hull. An alarm sounded, startling us from our slumber, alerting us to another ship in the harbor. When we reached the deck there wasn’t just one, there were several large frigates sailing into view, their cannons drawn. Our little fleet didn’t stand a chance.

  José sprang into action, giving us all orders. As I was unloading crates, preparing for battle, one of the men fired his carbine, causing me to look up. My heart raced as these massive vessels blocked out the sun, slowly moving toward us.

  These frigates wouldn’t be able to cross into the shallow waters of the lagoon, but they would make an escape by sea impossible. They were commonly used by the Imperial Brazilian Navy when facing a large foreign navy, but rarely were they used on rebels. For a moment I felt some hope that we would survive this, but then in the gaps between the large ships came dozens of smaller vessels loaded with cannons and men. I watched in horror as these ships crossed the sand bar, their cannons firing as they approached. My heart raced. We weren’t prepared for a battle of such scale.

  Thick gray smoke filled the air in large billowing clouds, seeping into my very being. I tried to cough and spit it out as I worked, doing my best not to let it slow me down. I was engrossed in my task when José grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him.

  “I need you to pass a message to General Canabarro for me.”

  “No!” General Canabarro was on the other side of Laguna, and there was no way that I was going to leave José. “I am staying here.”

  “You are my sailor and you will do exactly what I say when I say it! You made a promise to me, Anita! So help me God, I will flog you.”

  We stared at each other as bullets flew past our heads. “Fine!” I relented. “What am I to tell him?”

  “Tell Canabarro to send more men. Whatever he has. I want you to stay there and have a messenger bring back a response.”

  “Aye, Captain!” I yelled, giving José a mock salute. He grabbed my arm, spinning me back to him as I began to walk away. He pulled me close, giving me a rough, passionate kiss before releasing me to the rowboat.

  Small violent waves rocked the boat, threatening our stability. Cannon smoke oozed over the water around us as we made our way to shore. I had a job to do, whether I liked it or not. When we landed, I took a horse and rode as fast as I could through Laguna to Canabarro.

  The Imperial navy was not only targeting José and his ships, they
were punishing Laguna for harboring the rebels. Cannon fire bombarded the city, causing panic and mayhem among the citizens. It was only a matter of time before the Imperial forces made their way into town to avenge Imaruí. I wove my horse through the streets between people running for safety and debris from falling buildings. The town was in utter chaos; for a moment I wondered if there were any familiar faces in the crowd. However, I regained my focus as a cart rolled in front of me, making my horse swerve at the last minute.

  Time folded in on itself as I galloped through town. Had it been minutes or an hour? I couldn’t tell. I was only concerned with delivering José’s message. When I made it to Canabarro’s camp I jumped from my horse just as he came to a stop. I dodged and bobbed through groups of people rushing about loading provisions to be taken away. I stopped and looked at this quizzically. Why are they leaving? I found my way to Canabarro’s tent, where I was stopped by a large soldier.

  “No women in the general’s tent.”

  “I come bearing a message from José Garibaldi.”

  “I don’t care if you come with a message from the president of the republic himself.” The man grinned down at me.

  I pulled my sword. “I will run you through. I have a mission and I aim to complete it.”

  Canabarro stuck his head out of the tent. “What is all this commotion?” He looked to the soldier first, then let his gaze travel along the sword and up to my face. “Ah, Anita, I should have known. Well, stop wasting time and get in here.”

  I sheathed my sword and looked smugly back at the soldier. “You should really find better help.”

  “Wartime.” Canabarro shrugged. His desk was littered with papers and miniature wooden soldiers. Standing around it were several other men in officers’ uniforms. Their faces were creased with worry, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. “What news do you have of Garibaldi and his legion?”

  “We can barely hold off the attack from the navy. Garibaldi asks for more men.”