Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead by S. Thomas Russell Page A

understood our true peril. We had no food and only a small amount of rainwater we had collected in a bucket.” Angel stopped again, taking hold of the rail, as if the memories crept over him, too real to bear. “This seaman, he would not share the water but threatened us with a knife and let us go thirsty. I had, secreted in my jacket, a small package wrapped in oilskin. When this man realised it, he thought I was hiding food, or perhaps valuables. He demanded it, and when I refused he attempted to wrest it from me by force. He and Miguel fought, but the sailor was a large, strong man, and he threw Miguel into the sea and then turned on me. What I had hidden in my jacket was not food—it was a pocket pistol, carefully wrapped and still dry. I could not let him take it, so I . . .” He closed his eyes and steadied himself. “I shot him . . . through the heart . . . and he collapsed upon me. That is why my shirt was soaked in blood. I helped Miguel back into the boat.” Angel paused for a second. “Less than an hour passed before the seaman departed this life; we rolled him over the side. That is my sin, Captain Hayden. I killed a man.”
    Hayden felt himself nod, trying to hide his utter surprise—he had been expecting a much more innocent sin from the likes of Angel Campillo. “Clearly, you acted in self-defence,” Hayden assured him. “You and your brother might not be alive otherwise.”
    Angel appeared to take no comfort from Hayden’s assertion. “It was proven to me, Captain, by the appearance of your ship that I was underthe protection of God. Killing the man was not necessary. It was a moment of weakness . . . weakness of faith.”
    Hayden did not quite know what to say to that. Having had men attempt to kill him on more occasions than he cared to remember, he had never waited for the intercession of divine forces. He acted to preserve his own life.
    â€œSometimes, Angel, we must act on our own behalf rather than await the hand of God. To stand passively, expecting your enemy to be felled by lightning or to be struck down in some other manner when he threatens your very life—that might not be lack of faith but imprudence, if not outright foolishness. God does not intervene in all of men’s affairs, no matter how great the faith of those involved. Too often we must draw upon our own resources.”
    Angel appeared to consider this.
    â€œThen you do not think I have committed a cardinal sin?”
    â€œThe man threw your brother into the sea—to certain death. He likely intended the same for you. Your actions saved your brother’s life and almost assuredly your own. No court would blame you—not even a heavenly one, I am sure.”
    Angel appeared to struggle to master his emotions. “Thank you, Captain Hayden. Your words give me comfort. There is no priest to hear my confession and to counsel me in this matter.”
    â€œThere is the Reverend Smosh . . .” Hayden suggested.
    Angel looked at him and almost smiled. “Do you not know, Captain, that I should burn in hell for all eternity for consulting a heretic?”
    â€œIt had slipped my mind,” Hayden replied. “Do forgive me.”
    â€œI do not require the aid of Mr Smosh when I can speak with you, Captain. Was your mother not a Catholic? I am informed she was.”
    â€œShe still is, to the best of my knowledge, but, like all sea officers in the Royal Navy, I am a member of the Church of England.”
    â€œOf course,” Angel said. He was silent a moment, but then glanced obliquely at Hayden. “Must you report what I have told you to your commander when you reach Barbados?” he asked softly.
    â€œIt would be my duty to do so . . .” Hayden replied.
    Angel nodded. “Will there be a trial?”
    â€œAn incident between Spanish citizens upon a Spanish vessel . . .