The Spaniard: Soldier of the Spanish Armada

By Calvin J. Boal

Near the end of the sixteenth century as significant events unfold on the world stage, a twenty-year-old man emerges from the small village of Boal located along the northern coast of Spain. As he accompanies his father on the fifteen-mile trek down a winding mountain road to the town of Puerto de Navia, Jaime Montero believes he is on a mission to seek more experience as a sailor. But little does he know he is about to become embroiled in the Anglo-Spanish War.

After a chain of events leads Jaime to sail with Sir Francis Drake to the New World to raid the Spanish Main, he soon finds himself fighting for Spain and sailing with the famed and doomed Spanish Armada of 1588. After enduring a battle at sea and many challenges while sailing for home, Jaime’s vessel wrecks on the shores of Ireland. Now he must somehow find the strength to survive more hardships and brutal floggings before he can reunite with his love, Erin MacDonnell.

The Spaniard: Soldier of the Spanish Armada is the rousing historical tale of a young Spaniard’s courageous journey as he endures numerous battles, captivity, and a shipwreck with the hope of eventually reconciling with his beautiful Irish love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973644378

Calvin J. Boal

Calvin J. Boal has a keen interest in history. He is the author of the historical novels, Last Run of the Whisperer, St. George’s Cross and the Siege of Fort Pitt, and Valiant Warrior, Knight of the Third Crusade. Boal currently resides in Vestal, New York.

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Copyright © 2018 Calvin J. Boal.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-9736-4438-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-4439-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-4437-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018913145

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/26/2018

To

the Boal Family

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1   The Bay of Biscay, 1583

Chapter 2   La Girona, 1583

Chapter 3   Isle of Man, 1584

Chapter 4   Francis Drake and the English Court, 1585

Chapter 5   The Raid on Vigo, Spain, 1585

Chapter 6   Battle of São Domingos, Cape Verde Islands, 1585

Chapter 7   Crossing the Atlantic, 1585

Chapter 8   Battle of Santo Domingo, Hispaniola, 1586

Chapter 9   Battle of Cartagena, South America, 1586

Chapter 10   Battle of St. Augustine, Rescue of Roanoke, 1586

Chapter 11   Raid on Cádiz, Spain, 1587

Chapter 12   Spanish Armada, 1588

Chapter 13   The Spanish Armada Sails, 1588

Chapter 14   Calais and the Battle of Gravelines, 1588

Chapter 15   Death on the Lee Shores of Ireland, 1588

Chapter 16   The Wreck of La Girona, Ireland, 1588

Afterword

List of Characters

List of Ships

Reference

About the Author

Introduction

T hroughout history, there have been many crusades to the Holy Land. There were at least nine major crusades listed by historians when Christian armies were sent to the Holy Land to wrest control of Jerusalem, and other holy locations and sites, from the Muslims. These Christian armies marched under the authority of the ruling powers of Europe of the time—England, France and the Holy Roman Empire—usually by papal edict. They were sent to defend Christendom and defeat the Muslim invaders. These nine major crusades occurred between the years AD 1096 and AD 1271.

Before, during, and after the nine major crusades, there were several minor crusades, as described by historians. Other countries and empires of Europe and Christian lands were trying to stem the tide of Muslim influence within their regions or the Holy Land. Battles or crusades against the Muslims and other Christian factions, or between Christian countries, waged for years.

Before the First Crusade, there was the Reconquista, where Spain and Portugal fought to push the Moors out of the Iberian Peninsula. There was the Sardinian Crusade, where the Pisans fought the Moors to prevent the island from falling into Muslim control. Additionally, there was the Mahida Crusade, where the Pisa and Genoa fleets attacked the North African city to defeat Muslim pirates that were harassing Christian trade and towns in the Mediterranean Sea.

There also were crusades to remove Christian religious sects that were viewed by the Catholic Church as a threat or that had fallen out of papal favor. An example of this is the crusade against the Cathars in southern France. The twenty-five minor crusades occurred between the years AD 722 and AD 1683.

Another example of this was the great fleet identified in history as the Spanish Armada. King Philip II of Spain wished to send the great fleet against Queen Elisabeth I and England. Spain, of course, was a Catholic country, and England, under the rule of Queen Elizabeth I, was staunchly Protestant.

For years there had been problems between Spain and England. King Philip II was married to Mary I, sister of Queen Elizabeth I. After the death of Mary I, King Philip once again married. The marriage of King Philip to Mary I was one of the four marriages he was part of during his lifetime.

King Philip II and Pope Sixtus V considered Queen Elizabeth I, ruler of England, as a Protestant and as illegitimate, and they did all they could to place Mary, Queen of Scots, a Catholic, on the throne.

Additionally, Queen Elizabeth I sent her captains and ships to the New World to raid the Spanish Main. Those of note were Captains Francis Drake and Hawkins. But there were many others, and Spain considered them to be pirates. These English captains were given authority by Queen Elizabeth I to raid Spanish cities on the Spanish Main, as well as treasure ships that were returning from the New World to Spain. The captured treasures of gold and silver, as well as other valuable items, were turned over to the English crown.

King Philip II was infuriated by the English raids on the Spanish Main. Not only were the English stealing his gold, silver, and other treasure from the New World, but they were using it against him to build ships and armaments.

Queen Elizabeth I, when she learned that Mary, Queen of Scots, was conspiring against her rule of England, had Mary beheaded while in prison at Fotheringhay Castle.

During the following years, rumors persisted that Spain would send a great fleet and an army against England to overthrow Queen Elizabeth’s Protestant rule.

Pope Pius V, in April 1550, officially excommunicated Queen Elizabeth I and made a decree of ipso facto excommunication of anyone who did not deny allegiance to her. Both Pope Gregory XIII and Pope Sixtus V, the succeeding popes, supported Pope Pius V’s decrees. In fact, Pope Sixtus V supported King Philip II in his 1588 Spanish Armada fleet, which would sail against England and against Queen Elizabeth’s I rule. The pope issued a papal edict effectively declaring war between Spain and England—a crusade to bring Protestant England back under Catholic rule. In league with the Catholic Church, King Philip II, a staunch Roman Catholic, began building his vast fleet, the Spanish Armada.

During this great upheaval, Spain and England sparred against each other. Their fleets would see action in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Europe, the English Channel, and the Mediterranean Sea. The powers of Europe gauged who was stronger and set alliances based upon their military strengths as the clouds of war grew darker over their continent.

All the while, Queen Elizabeth I continued to send her captains to the Caribbean Sea to raid the Spanish Main, to antagonize King Philip II.

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During the same time as all these significant events happened on the world stage, a small, yet quiet figure emerged from the town of Boal, located along the northern coast of Spain. He would be one man that would reach out to the world. He is almost a man of myth—a man of legend. There have been many stories told about him and how he may have ended aboard a ship in the Spanish Armada.

Whether he was a sailor or perhaps a soldier is not known. Perhaps he was neither and, like so many in the war between the two great powers of England and Spain, he was pressed into service by his country against his will and forced aboard one of the ill-fated ships of the Great Armada as a laborer. Or perhaps he was a galley slave manning one of the oars in the galleass, only to find himself subsequently shipwrecked upon the shores of Scotland or Ireland. It remains one of the great mysteries of the man, and the name, Boal.

There are many stories that my line of the Boal family is part of the so-called black Irish from Boal, Spain, and is descended from survivors of the Spanish Armada.

My Boal descendants come from the area of Belfast, Northern Ireland, County Down. I know that James Boal was born in 1821 and came to America in the mid-1850s. He lived in Philadelphia and died in 1899. He had a son, Calvin Boal Sr., born on May 10, 1871, who died on June 24, 1946. He was in the US Army. He saw service during the Boxer Rebellion in China, the Spanish American War in the Philippines, and World War I. He is buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Calvin Boal Sr., is the father of Calvin James Boal Jr., who was born December 12, 1905, and died June 19, 1965. Calvin Boal Jr., is the father of my mother, Katherine Addison Boal.

There are Boals on every continent. How the name Boal may have come to be in every corner of the world is unknown. This is the story of one man who left the small town of Boal in northern Spain and through history was destined to live in Ireland. Eventually his lineage would emigrate to America.

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Chapter 1

The Bay of Biscay, 1583

T he remnants of the battered and defeated fleet struggled to make their way to their home ports in Spain. Shot and smashed apart from a weeklong battle in which they were soundly defeated, the squadrons were forced to sail home by a route not pla nned.

The Spanish Armada had been engaged with the English fleet in a battle in the English Channel and had expected to win a great victory. A combined Spanish and Flemish army would then invade the English countryside, defeat whatever army presented itself, and dethrone the Protestant English monarch, Queen Elizabeth I.

That was not how events turned out. After a running sea battle up the coast of England, France, and the Netherlands, the Spanish Armada was defeated. The armada, sailing with a persistently southerly and robust wind, sailed even farther north. The ever-present English fleet hounded the Spanish Armada, licking at their heels, and forced the great armada into the North Sea. Navigating through the northern reaches of Scotland, the fleet was forced to sail home through waters for which they had no accurate maps or charts.

Smashed and battered for weeks from the unrelenting storms of the North Atlantic, ships of the Spanish Armada found that the prevailing winds pushed the fleet toward the unforgiving, rocky shoreline of uncharted islands and land masses. Scotland and Ireland loomed menacingly before many of the ships of the fleet.

If all had gone as planned, the Spanish Armada, with significant numbers of soldiers and stores aboard their vast numbers of ships, would have disembarked troops ashore for an invasion of England. Now, with large numbers of men aboard the surviving ships, as well as arms, munitions, and even horses, the captains of the fleet struggled to get their damaged vessels and men home to Spain.

The damaged ships plodded on, many of them becoming wrecked on the shores of unknown lands with significant loss of life to both sailors and soldiers alike. Most of those who survived the shipwrecks on these shores were killed by Irishmen who feared the Spanish sailors and soldiers, or by English soldiers patrolling the coast of Ireland.

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Captain Don Alonso de Leyva commanded La Rata Santa Maria Encoronada. She was one of the great ships of the Spanish Armada. La Rata Santa Maria Encoronada was in the forefront of all the battles with the English fleet.

Subsequently, after being battered by the wind and the waves of the North Atlantic, Captain de Leyva sought refuge and anchored his ship in Blacksod Bay, on the west coast of Ireland.

Captain de Leyva, seeking shelter ashore, fortified two castles. La Rata Santa Maria Encoronada was scuttled, having been deemed by Captain de Leyva damaged beyond repair from both battle and storms at sea. She was burned to the waterline. Several days later, two additional ships of the Spanish Armada sailed into Blacksod Bay.

La Duquesa Santa Ana and Nuestra Señora de Begona were both battered from battles with the English fleet and the harsh conditions of the North Atlantic Ocean storms. Making repairs to these two ships would take weeks.

Nuestra Señora de Begona was a small two-masted merchantman. By all accounts, she was worthy to be salvaged and to make sail for Spain. After a couple of weeks of repair to her hull, rigging, and sails, Nuestra Señora de Begona sailed for home.

While sailing for Spain, Nuestra Señora de Begona encountered Zuñiga, a sister ship from the Naples squadron at sea. Zuñiga had been damaged and battered from battles in the English Channel off the coast of France near Le Havre. She carried fifty guns, 178 sailors, and 112 soldiers. Nuestra Señora de Begona reached the port of Cangas, Spain. Zuñiga was not seen or heard from after departing with Nuestra Señora de Begona.

Captain Jose Encarnacion commanded La Duquesa Santa Ana. She was in much worse condition than Nuestra Señora de Begona and was deemed by both Captains Encarnacion and de Leyva not to be seaworthy to make a voyage to Spain.

Captain de Leyva, the senior and most experienced captain, ordered that she would sail north to Scotland. Overburdened when she sailed, La Duquesa Santa Ana had on board both sailors and soldiers. In addition to her complement of men, those of La Rata sailed with her. Shortly after La Duquesa sailed out of Blacksod Bay, she once again was pounded by the unrelenting and unforgiving storms of the North Atlantic Ocean.

Sailing for a protected harbor, La Duquesa Santa Ana wrecked on the beach at Loughros More Bay. Captain de Leyva soon learned that, yet another ship of the Spanish Armada was eleven miles away in Killybegs Harbor. Here, La Girona was being re-fitted to sail again. Captain de Leyva ordered his complement of men, over six-hundred sailors and soldiers, from La Rata and La Duquesa Santa Ana to Killybegs Harbor.

Captain Fabricio Spinola, captain of La Girona, warmly greeted Captain de Leyva, turning overall command of his ship and his men over to one of the most senior, experienced, and famous officers of the Spanish Armada. The strongest of the crew members of the three vessels worked unceasingly to return La Girona to a seaworthy status.

"Your ship, La Girona, Captain de Leyva inquired, she is Spanish built, yes?"

Yes, Captain, Captain Spinola responded. She was built on the docks of A-Coruña but has spent her life with the Naples squadron in the Mediterranean Sea.

Stripping anything of value from the other two wrecked Spanish ships in the harbor, the workers did all they could to refit La Girona. The question would be—despite all the work on her hull, masts, yardarms, rigging, and sails—whether the damaged rudder would stand up to the pounding of the North Atlantic Ocean storms.

The head carpenter acknowledged both captains with a knuckle to his forehead, although he spoke to Captain de Leyva. Sir, we have made the best repairs we can to the damaged rudder. Without some necessary tools at dry dock in a Spanish harbor, it is hard to say whether they will hold. If we encounter a tremendous storm at sea, the rudder may fail. If we have fair weather and calm seas, we should make it.

La Girona was then overcrowded with thirteen hundred men, both sailors and soldiers. It sailed north and then east, seeking shelter and safety in Catholic Scotland.

As difficult as the sailing was with the high numbers of men aboard the ship, along with the condition of the galleass itself, La Girona made significant headway toward her destination. On the night of October 26, 1588, another brutal storm of the Atlantic Ocean struck from the northwest.

The night became dark as the storm rolled in upon the solitary ship at sea. The rain came down in torrents and washed across the deck of the vessel, making it difficult for those in command on the poop deck to navigate. The seas rose higher and higher until twenty- and thirty-foot swells battered and punished the desperate ship. Lightning flashed across the sky, letting all those who remained on deck know that they were drawing dangerously close to land.

La Girona would have survived the storm and remained at sea if one crucial event had not happened. In the darkness and brutality of the storm, a rogue wave battered the stern of the ship, damaging the rudder. The rudder that had been repaired while the ship was refitted at Killybegs Bay was destroyed. The storm was overpowering and relentless. The rudder failed to provide steerage. Still, everything was not lost, as the men at the oars on the galleass struggled with all their remaining strength against both sea and wind to keep the ship off the rocks of northern Ireland. Pull as they did with all their might to save their boat and themselves, it was a battle they would not win.

In the end, the storm and sea proved to be too much for the galleass in her vain struggle! The brutality of the waters pushed her onto the submerged and jagged rocks at Lacada Point, breaking the keel of La Girona in half. With her keel broken, she splintered into pieces, sinking into the depths of the sea and spilling the contents of her hold. Men, gold, silver, and other treasures went into the icy waters and to the bottom of the sea.

On the stormy, dark, and violent night of the storm that wrecked La Girona, sending her to the bottom of the seas, five of the thirteen hundred men aboard the galleass emerged from the violent and turbulent waters alive. One of these men, a man from the town of Boal, Spain, who was near death and about to be executed, would be claimed by Erin MacDonnell. She was the high-spirited and proud daughter of Sorley Boy MacDonnell, Lord of Dunluce Castle and the protectorate of the lands near Lacada Point. These were the waters and lands where La Girona wrecked, and yet the Spaniard, as he was called, remained alive.

Jaime Miguel Eduardo Montero, a young man just twenty years of age, accompanied his father on the fifteen-mile trek down the winding mountain road from their small village of Boal to the coastal town of Puerto de Navia. The two horses that pulled the wagon had followed the same winding road for many years—so many years that they seemed to know it without the aid of Jaime or his father.

The winter once again in Northern Spain had been long and cold. But it had finally released its grip on the countryside, and Jaime and his father, Juan Montero, managed well. Their vineyard on the northern slopes outside their small village had, during the previous fall, once again produced an excellent crop of succulent grapes of several distinct varieties. Refined over the years by Jaime’s father, an expert vintner, the vineyard was considered one of the best in the region of Asturias. The grapes were harvested and then pressed and processed into wine. The past growing season’s wine would be sold to their customers in the years to come, once it had aged correctly. This year’s wine was the product of several years ago and was believed to be one of the best-aged crops for some time.

Arriving outside the small port town of Navia, Jaime’s father walked the horses up to the farmhouse. He knocked on the door with several tough blows, hard and loud enough that Jaime seemed alarmed even though both he and his father knew well the occupants of the farm.

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman who was apparently the age of Jaime’s father. Speaking in Spanish, the woman, Isabella, placed her hands on her hips, stating, Juan Montero, for what purpose did you pound on my door to wake the dead? You know that Miguel won’t be back until later tonight. Go now and tend your horses in the barn. By the time you have completed your chores, I’ll have supper on the table, for goodness’ sake. She hesitated for a moment. Before you go, give me a hug—each of you. It is so good to see you again. And Jaime, you’ve grown again. Wait until your cousin, Marco, sees you. You boys will have so much to discuss. Be off now. I’ll have dinner on the table soon.

The horses were fed and bedded down for the night. The wagonload of wine was secure within the barn, and Juan, with his son, Jaime, returned to the farmhouse.

There they were once again greeted by Isabella, who was putting the finishing touches on the dinner table. Here in the coastal town of Navia, meals almost always consisted of fish. This meal was no exception. Fresh cod was served—a fish her husband had brought home the day before.

Juan Montero and his son, Jaime, certainly enjoyed the fresh fish. It had been a long day for them, as they had traveled out of the mountains, going from their farm to the coast of Spain. The road, at times, was narrow and treacherous. At other times, they encountered travelers going in the opposite direction. The travelers had to be patient and wait for the other travelers to pass before they could continue.

Their cargo of aged wine was precious. The wine was packed in boxes and covered in sawdust and straw so that any unnecessary jostling or jarring along the hilly and mountainous road would not result in the breaking of the wine bottles. If the road were straight, it would have been only about ten miles from the home of Juan Montero and his son, outside of Boal, to Navia. But it was a windy mountain road that traveled some fifteen difficult miles between Boal in the mountains to Navia at the coast.

With the meal complete, Juan Montero pushed his plate from before him and said with a smile to his host, Isabella, that was another fine meal. I only wish I could have shared it with my brother, Miguel. But I will see him soon enough. I have hopes that he will be opening new markets with some of our wines.

As Juan Montero hesitated for a moment, he looked at his young son and thought about the growing problems between Spain and England. They seemed to be on every Spaniard’s mind.

I would like for Jaime to sail with Miguel and Marco more this year and gain more experience as a sailor, Juan said as he looked at his older son. Jaime’s younger brother, Pedro, is older now and has the strength to help me with the farm. He can do the work that is required in the vineyards,

I’m sure that Miguel and Marco would like another hand on the boat for a season, and your brother would be able to pay Jaime a good wage to work the boat while he learns a new trade, Isabella stated. Learning how to sail will be of great use someday. Both Miguel and Marco have learned a good deal of French while fishing with the Frenchmen out in the Bay of Biscay. Miguel now trades with them over at Bilbao Harbor and Portugalete. Miguel says that although Portugalete is a Spanish port, he sees more and more French fishermen coming there to trade their fish and other goods. It is one of the busiest ports on the northern coast of Spain. That is where he will take some of your wine. It will sell for a good price there.

It was almost dark when the door to the house opened. Near the doorway were two figures. One was helping the other as they shuffled in the door.

Juan Montero and Jaime quickly got up from the table as Isabella moved from the kitchen to see what was the matter.

Isabella, Miguel stated in a low voice, Marco is hurt. Please, come quickly and help.

Juan and Jaime are here, Miguel, Isabella responded as all three came to the aid of Miguel.

Helping Miguel assist Marco to his bedroom, Marco groaned as he gingerly lay down, cradling his right arm.

Lighting the candle in his room, Isabella could see that Marco’s face was as white as a sheet. Isabella looked to Miguel and stated in a concerned voice, There is some warm water in the pot by the fireplace, and a cloth too. Bring them now.

Marco lay there with his eyes closed as he held his right arm across his body with his left. His mother, sitting on the edge of the bed, dipped the cloth in the warm water and wiped his face. Marco was quiet despite the obvious pain.

Looking up at Miguel from the side of Marco on his bed, Isabella asked, What happened?

We had just finished up for the day, Miguel began. "We had a good day fishing. Everything seemed well. Then, on the horizon, from out of nowhere, a storm popped up. We both saw it and thought we could make it to port before the storm would be upon us. But the storm grew in strength at an alarming speed. And despite putting up all the sail Santa Isabella de Navia could carry and trying to outrun the storm to make port, it overtook us. Miguel looked down at his son, who had his eyes closed and remained quiet. We took in a little sail so that Santa Isabella de Navia wouldn’t keel over in the strong winds and take on water. We saw other boats who, like us, were about to be overtaken by the storm. They too were struggling to make port.

"Marco went to the bow to take in the jib sail, and, as he was doing so, a rogue wave hit us. He put up his arms to protect himself as the boom swung. The boom hit his right arm and broke it. I took him below deck after that. It was all I could do to get Santa Isabella de Navia to port."

But there was no storm here at Navia? Isabella stated, looking at Miguel questioningly.

Just as suddenly as the storm came up, it passed, leaving several boats adrift on the ocean and in need of rescue, Miguel replied. You know, Isabella, storms come up at sea. They are intense and localized. This was one of the most intense storms I have seen on the ocean, and it blew itself out within an hour or two. Marco will tell you about it when he is up to it. We had our hands full. Come now; it will take the four of us to reset Marco’s arm. Miguel looked at his son longingly, knowing the pain he would have to put him through when resetting the broken arm.

A half hour later, the job was done. Marco was finally resting quietly in his room, his arm in a splint. It had been a struggle for the four of them to reset his broken arm, although Isabella and Jaime only held Marco down while he squirmed in pain. It was his father and uncle who had done the hard work of pulling on the arm enough to reset the bone and place the splint. Marco, who was apparently in a great deal of pain, cried out several times. He even had tears running down his face but came through the ordeal as best as could be expected.

Now Miguel faced a new dilemma. It was the start of the summer fishing season, and, his son would be laid up for several weeks with a broken arm. Both Isabella and Juan saw the concern on his face for both his son and the coming fishing season. Without his son, he would be in danger of losing his livelihood.

Come, Miguel, Juan said as he put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and led him to the kitchen. Have a glass of wine and rest for tonight. We’ll talk about the fishing season in the morning.

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The following morning, the weather was clear and crisp. It was unusually cool. The skies were light blue and without a cloud. There was only a whisper of a breeze.

As always, Miguel was down at his boat, taking care of sail and tackle. He had a haul of fish from the previous evening to remove from the hold and get to market.

Juan and Jaime were quickly feeding and turning out their horses. A quick check of their valuable product to ensure it had gone undamaged throughout the night made Juan turn to his son. I am going down to the docks to help Miguel unload the fish from his boat. Go check on your cousin to make sure he is okay. Have a quick breakfast; then make your way down to the dock. Your uncle and I will want to have a conversation with you, Juan Montero said with all seriousness, his hand on his son’s shoulder.

Yes, Father, Jaime replied. He then asked, What do you and Uncle Miguel wish to talk to me about?

When you reach the docks, your uncle and I will talk to you then. Be off now and see Marco. I’m sure he will want to see you this morning, Juan replied to his son confidently.

The two parted. Juan Montero walked down the hill from the farm to the docks. Jaime entered the farmhouse to greet his injured cousin.

Marco was still in bed, nursing his broken arm and resting. He had a look of despair on his face. He lay holding his arm, in obvious pain.

What can I do for you, Marco? Jaime inquired with concern for his cousin.

Can you bring me breakfast, Jaime? Marco answered. And see if my mother will come.

I will return with breakfast, Jaime stated.

It was only a short time later that both Jaime and Marco’s mother came into the bedroom. Marco’s mother had already prepared breakfast for Marco. Both she and Jaime helped Marco to a sitting position. He moaned and winced several times but was finally able to sit while eating his breakfast.

Marco’s face revealed that he was still in pain. His mother, seated next to the bed, was the one who fed him.

In between bites of the fresh eggs and slices of ham, Marco inquired, Who is helping my father unload the boat?

My father went down this morning to help him, Jaime answered. I plan on going down shortly myself.

I feel terrible about this, Mother, Marco stated, looking at her with concern. How will Father fish this summer with me having a broken arm? Marco asked with concern in his voice.

Don’t you worry about that now, Marco, his mother replied. Your concern should be resting. Your father will know how to take care of his business.

With his meal complete, Marco lay down once again, with the help of his mother and cousin, to rest. Both Jaime and Marco’s mother left the room to allow Marco to relax and perhaps sleep. It would be some time before he would sail on his father’s boat again.

I’ll go down to the docks to help unload yesterday’s catch, Jaime stated to Aunt Isabella in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb his cousin, Marco.

That’ll be good, Aunt Isabella said. Tell your Uncle Miguel Marco is resting and all is well here. There is no need for him to rush home right now.

I will let him know your message, Jaime replied. He then left the house and headed down the hill, as his father had done earlier, toward the docks.

Jaime could see some twenty boats docked in the harbor, and he knew that at least that number had sailed earlier in the day before the sun had come up to spend a hard day’s work on the sea fishing.

Walking through the small fishing village of Navia, Jaime passed small groups of children playing on the streets and some women who were going about their work for the day. Arriving at the docks, Jaime found small groups of men tending their sails or nets or unloading cargo from the holds of