On the High Seas

The helicopter hovered above without daring to descend. As her lungs filled with water, she remembered how she had been able to escape early in the morning--like the others--abandoning that seaside village where there was little to do and the hot and humid days brought with them only the rusty dust of the abandoned roads and bad news. For a few short minutes she was able to mentally return home to see her children running through the yard and the resignation on her sister's face as she found out about the clandestine trip to the neighboring island.

She was one of the first to suspect what was going on in the old fishing boat. She could smell the disaster in the nervousness of the helmsmen, in the evasive glances and awkward movements of those that directed the operation. When the tragedy began, she wanted to fight, to resist just like the others, but the men were strong and had trained for this day. One of them struck her, and she fell into the water, flailing like a scared hen. The other women and young children cried out for help as they flapped their arms in vain, trying to stay afloat.

As the shipwrecked victims slowly disappeared for good, swallowed up by the waters of the Caribbean, the rescue helicopter continued to circle above, watching the spectacle from afar, like a lost and perplexed seagull afraid to fish in unfamiliar waters.

Translation by H.J. Manzari

José Alcántara Almánzar was born in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, in 1946, and is considered the foremost short story writer of his generation. Known for his insightful explorations of his country's political situation, Alcántara Almánzar is also a respected scholar and literary critic. He has published five collections of short stories dating from the early 1980s, many of which are gathered in a recent anthology, El sabor de lo prohibido (1993).

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