Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [195]
Severo saw the flames at San Bernabé almost as soon as they peaked over the trees. He let the ingenio foreman know that he was going to help with the fire, took Efraín and Indio with him, and rode toward the farm. But when they entered the path, Efraín pointed to the southeast.
“Look, patrón!”
A field was ablaze. Severo sent Indio to alert the foremen, and he and Efraín surveyed the burning canebrakes along the road to Guares from the ingenio. Dry cane leaves produced spectacular flames because they burned first, but the stalks, being mostly liquid, were consumed more slowly. That was the theory behind the controlled burns that cleared the sharp, prickly leaves for a more efficient harvest of the sucrose-rich stalks. But Severo knew this fire had been set intentionally to damage the crop; he hadn’t ordered the work, as the field was not quite ready.
He organized the foremen and as many workers as could be spared from the trapiche, where the cane juice extraction could not be stopped. The bosses formed squads. One of them ran to Severo.
“Three from the same team are missing,” he said. “Yayo, Quique, and Jacobo.”
Severo looked toward San Bernabé. Yayo, Quique, and possibly Jacobo might have gone up there first to round up others and alert their women. That they set the farm on fire did not bode well for don Luis.
“Get the squads working.”
Everyone knew what to do in case of fire. Picks, shovels, and hoes, plenty of water and sand were always available, especially near the steam engine, boiling house, and warehouses. Men, women, and children rushed in the direction the foremen led.
Severo ran from one end of the batey to the other giving instructions to the foremen, who in turn mobilized the workers, distributed tools, formed bucket brigades. The gentle evening breeze had turned into a full-blown wind, whirring and moaning like the giant bellows that fanned the first tentative coals that boiled the water that generated the steam that drove the engine that moved the crushers that pulped the cane.
As the workers ran toward the Guares road, another fire started in a field behind the animal-powered trapiche chico and spread quickly, jumping over berms and across paths. Severo called the squads back to contain the flames where they threatened the trapiche and purgery on one side and the warehouses on the other. Because the steam generator for the crushers of the trapiche grande was fueled by wood and the highly flammable bagasse, it was crucial not to let the fire come anywhere near where they were dried and stored, or the building and surrounding structures would be consumed in minutes.
The beasts in the work yard had spooked. Those that could, escaped to safe ground. Two long-horned bullocks still tethered to their cart bellowed, stomped, and dragged their half-full cart in a mad race across the batey. A worker who wasn’t fast enough to get out of their way was gored, flew head over heels, crumpled to the ground, and was trampled. A spark set the cane in the cart ablaze, further terrifying the bulls, already crazed with fear. They ran straight toward the warehouses. Seeing what was about to happen, Severo shot one of the beasts to the ground as the other bull kept running. He fired again but missed. To his astonishment he saw Ana, still on Marigalante, shoot the second bull and order workers to douse the flames with sand and water just yards from the building.
Flushed, Ana dismounted and ran toward him. “It’s Jacobo,” she said. “Meri heard him talk.”
“Yes. We realized this as well. They can’t be too far.”
“They?”
He explained as they inspected the damage behind the purgery. “They chose the wrong night to run away. The civilian militia and regular soldiers are on alert because of the news earlier today.”
“You’re sure it was just those three?”
“Maybe some in San Bernabé. If there were more of ours, we’d know by now.”
Ana examined the man from the bulls’ rampage. “Gone,” she sighed, mentally counting: