CHAPTER 19
Feliz Gomez, who had been sent to Bodega Central for merchandise which Don Mario was awaiting from the coast, had collapsed as he stepped from his boat on his return to Simití. When he regained consciousness he called wildly for the priest.
“Padre!” he cried, when Josè arrived, “it is la plaga! Ah, Santísima Virgen––I am dying!––dying!” He writhed in agony on the ground.
The priest bent over him, his heart throbbing with apprehension.
“Padre––” The lad strove to raise his head. “The innkeeper at Bodega Central––he told me I might sleep in an empty house back of the inn. Dios mío! There was an old cot there––I slept on it two nights––Caramba! Padre, they told me then––Ah, Bendita Virgen! Don’t let me die, Padre! Carísima Virgen, don’t let me die! Ah, Dios––!”
His body twisted in convulsions. Josè lifted him and dragged him to the nearby shed where the lad had been living alone. A terror-stricken concourse gathered quickly about the doorway and peered in wide-eyed horror through the narrow window.
“Feliz, what did they tell you?” cried Josè, laying the sufferer upon the bed and chafing his cold hands. The boy rallied.
“They told me––a Turk, bound for Zaragoza on the Nechí river––had taken the wrong boat––in Maganguey. He had been sick––terribly sick there. Ah, Dios! It is coming again, Padre––the pain! Caramba! Dios mío! Save me, Padre, save me!”