The old man’s eyes widened and he turned to Camille.
“Were you aware that the Portuguese began the Atlantic slave trade in the 1500s? We took Gibraltar and there we encountered the Negro for the first time.”
“Yes,” Camille said, not making eye contact as the old man seemed proud of that heritage.
“Although the Negro was brought here to assist in the planting of sugar cane, most were sent to Brazil or the Caribbean. Despite that, here on the Azores, there were Negro landowners even in the 1500s.”
The old man looked troubled and then rose and left the room without a word. Valeria glanced at Alex who lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. They waited over five minutes before the old man returned with a large tome.
“I thought so! See, my memory is not as poor as my children seem to believe. Yes, right around 1750 a black man...I can’t seem to find his name here,” he said as he scoured the pages slowly.
Finally, Camille had enough and jumped up. “Let me see that!” she said, pulling the book from the man. Realizing how rude she had just been, she said, “I’m so sorry—I don’t mean to be rude. May I look at your book?”
The man, shaken by Camille’s actions, nodded wide-eyed and sat back down. In a weak voice, he said, “Yes...yes, of course.”
Camille brought the book over and sat it on the coffee table where she and Valeria could study it. They read the article, “...when in 1751, a recently freed, young Negro, made an offer to purchase the property and the sale was approved,” Camille read with excitement. “Okay...and then...” her eyes scanned the page and rapidly flipped to the next page. “The
blue-eyed Negro!”
she announced and continued.
“Oh!
Blue eyes. Then you
must
be related,” the old man said, recovering from Camille’s actions.
Lita smiled softly at the old man. “Yes. We are all related.”
“Well, that is interesting—isn’t it. But not so very different from—”
Camille interrupted excitedly, “He rebuilt the house and then...” she flipped the page several times. “Is there another book? This seems to only go to 1752.”
“I believe so. Would you like the next volume?”
“Yes, please,” Camille said as she and Valeria followed the old man down a long hallway and into his well-stocked library. He pointed to where the next thick tome was on the far wall. Camille grabbed it hungrily and sat down on the brown leather sofa as Valeria slid in next to her.
“She has an interest in history, I see,” the old man said to Valeria, a little put-off by Camille’s lack of manners—which was an oddity for Camille.
Valeria smiled softly. “It’s an important subject matter to her.”
“Oh, yes. I recall when I was preparing my doctoral thesis...” But by then, both Camille and Valeria were scanning the text.
Camille released a gasp. “Did you read this about the pirates?” she asked Valeria.
“Oh, yes, we did have our share of pirates! They were not only in the Caribbean!” The old man chuckled as if exhausted by the encounter.
Camille shook her head in frustration. “I know he would have come for me if he could have. He must have come here believing it to be free of slave trading—then there would be only one enemy. He probably believed that Mani would still be here and be able to help him find me.”
“You must be Buddhists. I have seen Buddhists here,” he said.
“Buddhists?”
Valeria asked, feigning interest.
“Yes.
Reincarnation and all that. Myself, I have a more practical approach.”
“Oh,” Valeria said, praying that she was not going to get an education in the gentleman’s “more practical approach.” She turned her attention to Camille. “Something must have occurred not long after 1752,” she said as they continued to scan the book.
“Absolutely, something occurred.” The old man chuckled again. “One of the deadliest earthquakes in history!” Senor Batista said.
“An earthquake?”
Camille asked.
“Yes...why, yes,” he said, now flustered with the attention.
“The Great Lisbon earthquake. Let’s see, if my memory serves it was on All Saints’ Day in 1755.”
“So, what happened to the people here? Probably buried?” Camille asked. “If they were buried, then he’s still here!”
“Yes, or they were swept away by the tsunami,” the old man added.
“Tsunami?”
Camille’s face turned nearly white.
“
No...don’t tell me there was a tsunami!”
Then she grabbed Valeria’s arms and in a voice two octaves higher she said,
“If it was a tsunami he could be anywhere by now!”
“Archeology—how interesting!
Funny, you don’t look like an archeologist.”
“I’m certain he’s here, Camille,” Valeria said, as the old man continued.
“You might be interested to know that this was the first earthquake studied scientifically for its effects over a large area and it led to the birth of modern seismology and earthquake engineering.”
Before Camille could tell him that she had absolutely no interest in that, Valeria lifted a hand to silence her and looked at the old man and said, “Thank you, Senor Batista. That is interesting, and most helpful.” Then she looked back to the book, but finding no other information, she took a deep breath. “Senor, do you know where the victims of the earthquake—”
“Oh, the tsunami killed as many as the earthquake here on Sao Miguel.”
“Okay, or the tsunami—do you know where they were buried?”
“Of course!” he said confidently.
Camille shook her head, ready to ring the old man’s neck.
“
Where? Where are they buried?”
“Most were buried at sea.”
Jumping from her seat she approached the old man and, reluctantly, Valeria stood in front of Camille.
“Senor Batista, if someone were buried on the island where would it have been?”
The old man narrowed his eyes, completely unaware of Camille’s pending physical assault.
“Well, some would have been buried in the island cemetery—”
“Great! Thank you!” Camille said as she walked rapidly to the door and then turned, anxiously waiting for Valeria.
“All right, the island cemetery,” Valeria said, patiently waiting for the rest of the answer.
“You are having a child soon aren’t you?” he said. Camille’s eyes widened as a signal of her growing impatience.
“Yes, I am.” She smiled and drew another breath. “So the island cemetery or...”
“Well, they might be buried in a family plot—I’m certain you thought of that.”
“Family plot!
Why didn’t we think of that?
”
Camille said, rolling her eyes.
“Yes. But after great disasters, like the 1755 Great Lisbon quake and tsunami, as well as the volcanic eruptions a few years later—”
Camille interrupted as she narrowed her eyes and stalked back into the room. “Are you telling me that he expected us to live someplace with tsunamis and volcanic eruptions?
What was he thinking
?”
Valeria said, “What happened after the disasters?”
“Some archeological excavations have shown that the grave diggers buried multiple people in one gravesite.”
“Oh, just great!”
Camille said exasperated.
Patting the man’s arm, Valeria smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you, Senor
Batista, you’ve been of great assistance!” She stood and then put her arm on Camille’s and led her out past the main parlor where Alex, Mani, and Lita patiently waited.
As they crossed back to the dirt road, they followed it along the property line to Kali House with its overgrown fields and searched until they finally discovered the family plot; but there was no gravestone for Jonah.
“Let’s just dig them all up and then wait to see if he comes to,” Camille insisted. Alex grimaced.
“I have a better idea,” Valeria said. “Let’s check the local cemetery first.”
They drove to the nearest cemetery and found it bordered by a four-foot white adobe fence. Carved crosses sprung from numerous locations.
Without saying a word they got out and began roaming the graveyard. Finally, Camille said, “
Jeesh! You would think I would know where he is!” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry Jonah!”
“We’ll find him,” Valeria assured her friend, willing the words into truth.
The five of them each took a section of the graveyard. When they returned to the middle— without seeing his name—Camille said, “All right,” as she gulped back her tears. “We’ll go back to the family plot and just...dig it all up!” She huffed. “Maybe we should rent a bulldozer or whatever you call those things.”
Valeria narrowed her eyes and said, “Something isn’t right.” She looked from left to right.
“All right, maybe not a bulldozer, maybe...maybe we can get one of those drill things that they use to break up the road and just take the bones out,” Camille added, as her hope began to plummet.
Glancing up the hill, away from the sea, Valeria began walking toward the edge of the graveyard but her focus was further up the hill at an unkempt vineyard.
“What is it, Val?” Alex asked as he glanced up the hill.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something...”
She evaluated the landscape and walked out of the graveyard, around the fence, and up the hill to the vineyard. She continued to glance around the area thoughtfully. Then she spotted an old man walking down the dirt road toward her, followed by a sheep dog. She waved an arm to call to him. Alex followed Valeria while Camille continued to plot the destruction of the family cemetery. The man stopped and adjusted his beret.
“Excuse me,” Valeria said, but the man responded in Portuguese.
“Mani?” Alex yelled.
Mani walked over to join them.
“Mani, will you ask him when they moved the graveyard from up on that hill to its present location.”
A moment later the man was gesturing up the hill and then to the cemetery in a long story. Mani responded several times and then thanked the man, waving to him as he continued down the road with his dog.
Mani raised his eyebrows and said, “He says that there was a mudslide in the fall of 1987 that removed most of the original gravestones. A local farmer wished to plant a vineyard here, but he did not wish to build below the cemetery. So after the mudslide occurred, he agreed to move all of the caskets to the current location of the cemetery—despite the possible curse from the spirits of the dead.”
“He didn’t move them,” Valeria said, as her eyes lit.
“The man said that these vines refused to produce fruit for the farmer because of the lies to the dead. Finally, the farmer abandoned the vineyard. ”
“I’ll risk it!” Camille said with a smile. “Where do we dig?”
Valeria walked back up to the vineyard. She walked around for a few minutes and then she said, “I think right here.”
They drove to town and picked up two shovels, a canvas tarp, and several flashlights. After several hours of digging—with Mani claiming to be an official of the state who was conducting an investigation into
the activities of the previous owner, to anyone who stopped—Alex hit a casket and they opened the lid.
Camille stared at the remains. “Is that you, Jonah?” she lowered her brows and shook her head. “I...I just don’t know.”
Valeria brushed Camille’s back. Mani looked at the body and tilted his head for a moment and then walked all around the grave and said, “I do not believe this is him. This man is not tall enough—Camille, I recall that Jonah was over six feet and very thin boned,” he said.
Camille nodded and was about to cry. Alex placed the lid back on the casket and was about to bury it again when Valeria said, “Alex, wait. I’m sorry, but there’s just something...”
“What is it, love? Do you believe that this is Jonah?” he asked as he leaned the shovel against the crook of his shoulder and stretched the fingers of his blistered hands.
“I don’t think that’s Jonah, but I do think he is near...very near.” She glanced around the vineyard. “I think that he’s somewhere here—maybe like Senor Batista said, maybe he’s under this casket. Can you pull this one out?”
Alex glanced at Mani. “Alright!”
It was near sunset when they were finally able to remove the casket. Underneath was just more dirt. But they kept digging. Finally, Camille and Valeria had to run to a hardware store to pick up a ladder. When Alex and Mani needed a break from digging in the cramped quarters, Lita or Camille replaced them. Of course, everyone laughed when Valeria volunteered to give one of them a break.
The sun was setting and the hole was nearly eight feet deep. They were all pondering how deep they would dig before giving up when Alex hit the boards of another box. It took over twenty minutes to break just a couple of the boards in the lid of the casket. Valeria shined the light on parts of the body. The other casket had been rich wood, lined with silk. But this did not appear to be a man that was a landowner. This body had been thrown into a cheap wooden casket with no accoutrements.