Golden Secrets

Alicia, wide-eyed, sat wondering if she would really hear the padre’s confession. Romo soothed her with his words in Spanish.

“Cálmate, mijita. All you need to do is listen.”

“Well, I can listen.” She hoped he would not change his mind but would go on with a story that she could tell Clara.

“And another thing, you can never share what I tell you, just as I never share the confessions of others,” Romo explained. “You want to know our history, and that shipwreck has a lot to do with our story.” At last, it sounded as if he would answer her questions, even if she could not share his exact words with Clara.

“Were you there? Did you see it?”

“The Mission was small and drafty in those times. They assigned me to shore up the gaps in the walls during the terrible storm. It was only when the survivors arrived in town that I learned of the tragedy. It was awful.” Romo wrung his hands as he spoke. “They brought the sailors in on buckboards.” Alicia tried to imagine Papa’s buckboard filled with wounded men. “There were twelve survivors. Poor souls. Fíjate, just twelve out of one hundred.”

Romo looked from side to side as if he was reliving the grim procession. Alicia felt sick in her stomach to hear him recount the night. It was not an exciting story, just grim.

“In those days, some Mission brothers had medical skills. They tended to the men, but there was not much they could do to mend their crushed bodies.” Romo pointed to a corner of the yard. “We lay them there, under a leaky ramada.”

“Why so few saved?” Alicia pictured Papa struggling to save the sailors in the water.

“The ship crashed. They say that all the cargo broke loose.” Romo retold the tale as it was shared with him. “Your papa rushed in and out of the icy water many times. Your uncles, too. Those men thrown into the ocean got pulled under by the current and drawn out to sea.” Alicia knew those waters and could not imagine such horror. “The heavy cargo crates sunk in the shallows.” This grabbed her attention, imagining the tragedy. The bodies washed out to sea, and the trunks lodged in the sandy shallows.

“And what was in those trunks, Padre? Is it true that the galleon held Spanish gold?” Alicia felt the guilt of her curiosity.

“That was one story.” Romo looked at Alicia. “But it is only the survivors who know for sure.”