Magellan Point

By David T. Sanders

Magellan Point is a novel about the lives of people living in the Western Pacific and their efforts to create political institutions that encompass many islands--efforts that resulted in states in Micronesia and the territory of the Northern Marianas Islands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645367673

David T. Sanders

David T. Sanders is a professional geologist and published author with international experience as a U.S. Air Force officer and as a consulting geologist.

Book preview

Hearing

About the Author

David T. Sanders is a professional geologist and published author with worldwide experience. He writes his novels with themes based on those experiences.

About the Book

Magellan Point is a novel about the lives of people living in the Western Pacific and their efforts to create political institutions that encompass many islands—efforts that resulted in states in Micronesia and the territory of the Northern Marianas Islands.

Dedication

To my daughters, Jeri and Judi, both of whom were born on the

island of Guam.

Copyright Information ©

David T. Sanders (2019)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Sanders, David T.

Magellan Point

ISBN 9781645367673 (ePub e-book)

The main category of the book — Fiction / Historical

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019910653

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgements

The assistance of Koney Austin in reviewing my work is greatly appreciated, as is the encouragement and support of Michael Soetaert.

Chapter One

The Storm

The typhoon winds buffeted the southeast shore of the island of Guam, and the rain fell in torrents. Cesar Morgan stood on Magellan Point in rain gear, watching his schooner being tossed around and hoping that the wind would subside before the ship was capsized. It represented his only livelihood and his life savings.

A mile to the north, Harvey Weinstein was huddled in a shack amid his collection of rusted pieces of military equipment left on the island after battles in the Second World War. He hoped the winds would continue denuding the jungle, so he could find more scrap, the sale of which was his only source of money at the time.

Soichi Yokoi sat on a ledge he had carved from solid rock near the entrance to a cave located high above the shore. This cave had been his home since before the final battle his Japanese countrymen fought on the island. He watched the thick vegetation that had concealed his presence being shredded by the high wind.

Cesar was a Chamorro, one of the people who had inhabited the Marianas Island chain for many centuries. His grandfather, an intrepid sailor like his son and grandson, had taken the English last name Morgan because he once heard of a pirate by that name.

Harvey fought on this island and elsewhere in the west Pacific against the Japanese and returned here to become a beach bum. He survived on the good will of the Guamanian people, some part time work, and the small income he received for scrap metal.

Soichi had come to the island with approximately 30,000 Japanese troops assigned to capture and hold it. He had seen that number of troops diminished to less than 1,000 through battle casualties and suicides, as well as the death of thousands of Japanese civilians.

Darkness fell. Cesar could no longer see his ship, so he went back to his small, frame house below the point and stripped off his rain gear. The house had only louvers in the windows, so rain had poured in all day. Most of his furniture, including his bed, was wet. The electricity was out, but the bottle of beer he took from the refrigerator was still cold. He sat on a chair made from bamboo to drink the beer and his telephone rang. It was his sister, Sonya, calling. Sonya had become an important owner of rental properties on the island and she and Cesar were close.

I just took a call from a lady living in my duplex in Agana Heights. Her husband is on a search and rescue flight up north and the storm has broken out the picture window in her living room. Could you go cover the window somehow to keep some of the water out until the storm passes and I can get someone to make repairs?

I will see what I can do, Cesar said and hung up the telephone.

Cesar had seen some old sheets of plywood at Harvey’s place that he used to keep his scrap out of the mud. He reasoned that because Harvey always needed money, he might sell a sheet and agree to go with him for the right fee to help nail the plywood in place. In this wind, it would take a man on each side of the sheet of plywood to do that, he reasoned.

With a raincoat back on, Cesar ran to his four-wheel-drive pickup and drove to Harvey’s place. Harvey moaned and complained but agreed to do what Cesar had asked him to do for fifty dollars. They removed metal from what appeared to be the best sheet of plywood, placed it in the bed of Cesar’s truck, and piled some metal back on it to hold it down.

Cesar had helped with the remodeling when Sonya bought the duplex. He had used an old roadway as a faster way to get there at that time, so he went that way again. Soichi watched the headlights approach and the vehicle pass by not far from him.

The broken window was at the back of a narrow building with two sets of steps leading to entrances to dwelling units. Cesar backed his pickup into the driveway next to the building and knocked on the door to the back unit. A young, very attractive woman came to the door. She was tall and slender with a very good figure. Her long, dark hair was tied back from a beautiful face. There was obvious concern in her brown eyes.

Cesar told her his name and that her landlady had sent him to put something over the broken window. The woman said her name was Ann Woodward and asked if she could help somehow.

I brought help, Cesar said as he pointed to Harvey still sitting in his truck. You stay inside and keep as dry as you can. Are you alone?

Yes. My husband is flying.

Are those living in the other unit at home?

No. They are off the island.

We will close the window opening against some of the rain and intruders from the outside. You bolt your door and don’t open it for anyone until Sonya sends repairmen after the storm passes. Here is my business card. Put it next to Sonya’s number and call either of us if you need further help.

Cesar and Harvey struggled with the plywood in the high wind for more than a half-hour but finally got it nailed to the outside wall so it covered the broken window. Cesar drove Harvey to his place, unloaded the metal, and paid Harvey in cash. Back at his place, he took off his raincoat once more and got back in the truck. He slept there in the truck for a few hours while the storm continued.

He awoke to a bright, clear morning with only a light breeze and ran to the point so see if his boat was still afloat at anchor. It was.

Rain water was still running out of his house, but the electricity was back on when Cesar returned home. He moved the furniture and bedding out of the house and into the sunshine. By late morning, he was ready to check on the damage to his schooner.

A small motorboat was kept on the beach below the house to go to and from his ship. The wind had pushed it up the beach and wedged it between coconut palms. Cesar stood next to the boat trying to decide how to free it when his three-man crew arrived. They dug sand away with their hands, pulled the boat free, and cleaned the motor. Soon, they were on the schooner with the motorboat tied next to it.

The damage was not as severe as Cesar had feared. The four men had most of the displaced things put back in proper places and the bunks and galley useable again in a few hours. With that initial work done, Cesar bid his crew good day, dove into the sea, and swam to the beach below his neighbor’s copra operation. He shook off the water and went to find his friend.

Hector Galvez supervised the harvesting of coconuts on his plantation, the cutting and drying of kernels, as well as the processing required to produce oil in an operation recently installed. He and Cesar had grown up together. Five years out of high school, Hector inherited the coconut plantation on which he was working when his father died. Right after that, Cesar upgraded his family’s ocean-going craft that he had inherited. For the past year, the two of them had been partners in an expansion of the coconut business. When conducting contracted service to take replacement personnel, private correspondence, and food items to Catholic churches and schools on other islands in the region, Cesar brought back dried and sacked copra to help keep Hector’s mill at full capacity.

Cesar found Hector with a large crew, cleaning up debris. Hector stopped his work to speak with him.

How long before you can be back in operation? Cesar asked.

A week, maybe more. When will you be able to sail again?

I will have a passenger for Rota in five days and another one on the return trip. If we must work day and night until then, we will not disappoint the priests. That would not be good business.

Why don’t you come by for dinner later? I suspect your place is waterlogged, and Hazel has a dinner guest who wants to meet you.

Fine. I’ll come by. What time?

Let’s say nine.

Cesar, dressed in clean, white shorts and a bright shirt, with sandals on his feet, walked to his neighbor’s house just before nine. The house was larger than all others in the area, with the first floor of the house raised three feet above tall grass that grew on either side of a wide walkway that extended to a paved road. The beach lay a few tens of feet behind the house and coconut trees framed the house on the other two sides. The trees were very large, survivors of wartime destruction of such trees. Cesar climbed the stairs and walked along a wrap-around deck to a wide porch at the back of the house. His host and hostess were there, sitting on bamboo furniture, with another guest.

The three of them arose to greet Cesar. Hector introduced him to Gloria Miranda and Hazel poured him a blended drink made with alcohol distilled from coconut blooms, a special drink she was known for all around the island.

Cesar assumed Gloria to be a few years older than him and Hector. He could not remember meeting her before, but her last name was certainly familiar. The Miranda family was the largest private landholder on the island, and he had met her mother.

He accepted the drink from Hazel. The four of them sat down in chairs arranged around a small fire in a metal fixture. The initial conversation was about the effects of the storm. They discussed earlier typhoons that had hit the island. No one recalled one they thought stronger.

Gloria surprised Cesar when she asked about his trip into the highlands during the storm.

He explained that he was on an emergency repair mission for his sister.

My mother wonders how you knew about the road you took from here, Gloria said.

That statement surprised Cesar even more. The Miranda family had been in the news, recently, because of their request to the United States government for compensation for land taken from the family to build roads during and after the war. He reasoned that they must know about all the roads that crossed their property, including the one that he took last night.

It is a road I have taken in the past to get to a rental property owned by my sister.

You had Harvey Weinstein with you. Mother wants him to stay off our property.

I hired him to help me do emergency repairs on Sonya’s duplex.

Mother also wanted me to ask you to find a way to close that road.

I can do that by stringing a chain or cable between trees at an appropriate place. Why is your mother so concerned?

I really don’t know. I have dated Harvey a time or two. He does not seem to be a threat to our property, and I’m sure Mother trusts you.

Harvey does not seem to be a threat to anyone, Hector offered.

Enough about Harvey. Gloria, help me serve our late dinner, Hazel interjected.

As they ate and drank more of Hazel’s special cocktail, the conversation turned to the future of coconut production, something that affected them all in one way or another, and island politics.

It was after midnight when Cesar returned home. He slept late. Not knowing why, he took cable, cable clamps, and some old anchor chain and closed the road as requested by Gloria’s mother that morning. He then swam back to his ship and spent three days working on needed repairs with his crew.

His telephone was ringing when he returned home, once again by swimming there. The call was from Ann Woodward, asking him to come to talk with her.

He went the long way around to her place, parked in a still empty driveway, and knocked on her door. She opened the door, dressed in a sundress with bare feet.

I am so happy you came. It has been a most trying time for me since I last saw you. The day after you were here, your sister had the window replaced. My next visitor was a chaplain who told me my husband was killed in a crash while on that search mission I told you about and that his body will never be recovered. I have been in here going crazy since then. I did not know who else to call. You seemed to be a caring person and I need someone to talk with, desperately.

Have you not called anyone in your family?

I have no one. I was an orphan raised in foster care. The last couple I lived with died when I was in nursing school. Bill and I met when I was teaching first-aid to flight crews in San Diego. We were married just before he received orders to come here on a temporary duty assignment. I have not even met any of his family.

You will receive money from your husband’s life insurance policy. I am sure my sister will let you stay here without paying rent until it arrives.

I don’t need money. I have my life savings. What I need is to get out of this apartment before I lose my mind. Once I get over this tragedy, it might be possible for me to go back into the medical profession. There is nothing for me on the mainland. I hope to stay on Guam.

Cesar said nothing for several minutes. He felt real compassion for this young woman, and he was very attracted to her.

I’m a sailor, he finally said. I sail to a neighboring island in a couple of days. I suppose you could come with me. There will be a priest onboard during the entire trip, so it would not seem improper. Would you like that?

That is a life-saving offer.

All right. Pack a few things, and I will take you to my ship. You can wait there until I go to pick up my saintly passenger.

The crew finished the cleanup and the necessary painting of the schooner. They had gone back to their homes and left the motorboat on the beach.

Cesar took Ann to the ship in that boat, showed her around, and put her small bag in his stateroom. Finding that the crew had restocked the ship, he showed Ann the store room and galley before he left her onboard.

You will be alone again until morning, but the scenery is different. I will be at my home on the beach just above where we found the boat. You will be safe. I’ll be back at sunup and expect breakfast prepared by my new ship’s cook.

Ann smiled broadly and waved as Cesar cast off in the motorboat. He waved back en route to the shore.

She spent much of the evening looking over the ship before she undressed and climbed into the stateroom bunk. Breakfast and coffee were ready when Cesar returned just as the sun rose over still water. Ann had slept soundly for the first time in a long time. She was dressed in shorts and an alluring halter top.

My crew will assume we slept together when they return, but I will set them straight, Cesar said as he sat down to eat. They know by now that I always tell them the truth. Otherwise, we could not have a good working relationship. When they return, we will sail to the other side of the island, take onboard a priest in the morning, and deliver him to Rota so he can relieve another priest at a church-school there. The priest being relieved will return with us. The trip will be a leisurely one-day sail.

The ship is magnificent. Is it yours?

It is now. My father and grandfather were both sailors in this part of the ocean. They owned motor-powered boats, the last of which became mine when my father died. I had always wanted to sail, so after high school I was hired as a crew member of a racing ship and sailed to many parts of the world. I saved my earnings. When I returned home, I had almost enough money, together with the money I received from the sale of Father’s boat, to purchase this ship. A small bank loan made up the difference. Recently, I repaid the loan.

It is very comfortable here below deck. Do you run a charter service for tourists?

No. I consider doing that a lot, but I have not yet undertaken such a business expansion. Tourism makes up most of the economy on many islands in the region. You can’t even imagine how that industry grew while I was away, so catering to tourists makes good business sense, but I have a contract with the Catholic Church to provide service to its facilities. Most of the high islands have air service, but getting to atolls, particularly those surrounded by reefs, can best be done from the sea. Also, the church finds my service, on call whenever I am needed, to be convenient and private. I often return with sacks of copra lashed on deck for my friend’s processing plant, so the ship and crew stay busy without taking onboard tourists.

Do you have a regular, fulltime crew?

Yes. Three men that have been with me since I acquired the Wind Star. Two were friends in high school, brothers who grew up on this end of the island. My navigator is Yapese. His family has a tradition of sea navigation that goes back centuries. It’s a good thing you reminded me about them. They will be on the beach shortly. I need to go get them in the motorboat.

Ann had cleaned up the galley and was on deck when the boat with Cesar and his crew returned. She stood next to the rope ladder as Cesar climbed onboard.

Ann, meet the crew, he said as they followed him onto the deck. I have told them about your unfortunate situation and your need for some fresh ocean air. Ross and Roy Mendoza, as I have told you, are friends as well as shipmates. The older gentleman is Santiago, the best navigator in the world.

Each nodded. Santiago responded, A pleasure to meet you, young lady.

Santiago, Ann decided, certainly was not old, but he must be a gentleman. She assumed he was in his early fifties. He had a graying beard and wore his black hair in a long braid. The Mendoza brothers looked so much alike that they could be twins. They were tall, very muscular, and handsome, like Cesar, she thought.

Ann was shown a place to sit near where Cesar took control at the helm. The others went right to work. Ross took the motorboat to the beach and swam back, while the others unfurled the sails. When the anchor was raised, and the sails properly set, the ship moved toward the southwestern end of the island, being pushed by a gentle breeze. Ann thought the island from offshore was beautiful and mentioned her feelings to Cesar.

Just imagine how it must have looked to the crews of Victoria and the other two ships of Ferdinand Magellan’s fleet when they were at this place in 1521. One of the things I like most about sailing is that once you are out to sea, it is just your ship, the water around you and distant land, if that is even visible. Human influences and alterations fade quickly.

This is the first time I have seen this part of the island. It is so different from the crowded part where I have spent time. It appears as another land.

You might be able to understand why I keep my ship at anchor here instead of in Apra Harbor, even though there is a greater risk of storm damage and we have to travel to the other side of the island to initiate most of our voyages.

I do, indeed.

We will be at anchor in the harbor in a few hours. I could take you onshore for a meal in a fancy restaurant, but you may have noticed that Santiago is preparing to snag a fish. You might enjoy fresh fish for dinner, baked the Yapese way.

That sounds much better.

The ship, while at anchor near the outer limit of the harbor, was rocking gently from wakes made by motorboats moving inward. That motion, the sun setting, a gentle breeze, and a fine shipboard meal were all delightful to Ann. It was like a dream world to her.

The crew was polite and friendly. The loss of Ann’s husband was not mentioned. She did relate how she and Cesar had met during the recent storm. Most of the conversation involved the recollections of each sailor about past adventures. Cesar talked some about the sailing adventures of his father and grandfather. The crew knew that Cesar had logs and charts from every voyage he, his father, and his grandfather had ever made. Roy mentioned that for Ann’s sake. Santiago said the sailing experiences of his ancestors were passed down from generation to generation through stories, often repeated.

I seem to be among the most knowledgeable sailors in the west Pacific, Ann offered.

Knowledgeable and very good at handling this ship, Ross responded.

The evening discussions ended when the crew members excused themselves and went to their berths. Ann went to Cesar’s stateroom. Although a berth had been made up for him, Cesar chose to sleep on deck with a thin mattress and a cotton blanket.

Ann was awake before daylight. She put on shorts and a colorful shirt with a collar, the tails of which she tied above her waist. Breakfast and a pot of coffee were ready when the others got up. The friendly attitude of the crew toward a new member from the night before was still evident as they ate.

At eight, Ross and Roy lowered a motor-launch from a rack on one side of the ship and went onshore to get their passenger. Ann cleared away and washed the breakfast dishes as well as the things she had used to make a meal of eggs, strips of bacon, and toast. She made another pot of coffee and she and Santiago sat on deck chatting, with cups of fresh coffee, while Cesar made ready the lounge area for the passenger.

Cesar greeted the priest as Santiago helped him aboard. He introduced himself as Father Andres and simply nodded as the others were introduced to him. Cesar escorted him down the front-hatch to the lounge. Ann followed them and sat down across a low table from the priest.

Roy stowed his bag in a closet next to him.

As much as she would have liked to watch from the deck, Ann decided she should keep Father Andres company during the trip to Rota. He was not very talkative, but Ann learned that he had been at a church in Indonesia for the past five years and was being transferred to a church-school on Rota. He was to replace a priest who was going to retire in Spain. He did not ask about her association with the ship’s captain or the crew, so she did not offer any explanation. The questions she asked about Indonesia were answered politely.

Ann offered to make him tea. He accepted the offer and she found some cookies to serve with the tea.

As the ship approached Rota, Cesar sent Roy below to escort Father Andres and Ann onto the deck. They sat next to Cesar on a bench as he maneuvered the ship into shallow water where children in a schoolyard were visible across a wide beach.

Once the anchor was released, the launch was lowered, and the priest’s bag was placed in it. As he left the deck, Father Andres thanked everyone and climbed, carefully, down the rope ladder. He waved as Roy maneuvered the boat toward shore.

Ann asked if she should fix lunch. Cesar suggested that she wait for the next passenger. That turned out to be where her role onboard the Wind Star changed from cook to nurse.

The retiring priest was in the launch when it returned, but so was a young boy wrapped in muslin. Roy handed the boy up to Ross before he helped the churchman climb the ladder. After Father Alvarez introduced himself, he reported, The boy was burned by hot cooking oil while he was helping out in the school kitchen.

Ann picked the boy up, carried him below, and laid him on the bed in which she had slept. Carefully removing the muslin, she examined the burns. Santiago handed her the ship’s first-aid kit. Gently, she applied a salve and asked for water with which to administer a pain pill. The boy stared at her the entire time but said nothing.

Still on deck with Cesar, Father Alvarez asked about getting the boy to a hospital.

There are hospitals on Saipan and Guam, Cesar told him. With the northwest trade winds, we can get to Guam sooner. Lucky for the boy, Ann is a trained nurse. She can care for him until we get there.

The priest was shown to the lounge and the ship was soon headed back south. After the young boy had dozed off, Ann went to speak with the priest.

The boy is asleep, and he has less pain, she told him. He has very bad burns, as I’m sure you know. The burned skin will heal, but there will be scars. Has he family?

He is an orphan. He lives at the school and helps out wherever he is needed. Unfortunately, he was in the kitchen helping the cook when the accident happened. The cook was also slightly burned.

What is his name?

He is called Willy.

I will go back and stay with him. Is there something that I can get you?

No. Thank you. I will just sit here, pray, and meditate.

Within a few hours, they were back in Apra Harbor. Night had fallen. The Mendoza brothers got into the launch to help the priest onboard. Ann and Santiago handed Willy down to them.

Ann turned to Cesar and said, I will go to the hospital with the boy and find a ride home. This short trip with you has been a godsend. Please, let me sail with you again.

She embraced both Cesar and Santiago, threw her small bag into the boat, and climbed down the ladder. She waved until the ship was out of sight.

The Wind Star lay at anchor in the harbor until daylight, then was sailed back to the other side of the island. Cesar and his crew went onshore to their homes.

Gloria Miranda came to visit Cesar soon after he arrived home. He invited her to sit on his back porch, which was still covered with sand blown from the beach during the storm.

Mother wanted me to thank you for closing that road, but it was too late, Gloria said as she sat down. A Japanese man who had lived in a cave near that road since the war thought that Harvey had seen him when he was gathering scrap metal, so he walked to the navy hospital in Agana Heights and surrendered to a shocked receptionist. The storm had stripped away all the vegetation that hid the entrance to the cave where he lived, but Harvey told me he had not seen the man.

That is an incredible story. I can’t even imagine being there, alone, for so long. How did he survive?

"That is the part of the story Mother wanted me to explain to you. She feels someone needs to know and she likes and trusts you. She lived through the rapes and other atrocities during the occupation that you and I have heard so much about. One day, she was beaten nearly to death. The man in the cave killed her tormentor, threw down his rifle, and ran away. She watched him