I never met a girl like Suavecito, mi Linda.

And there never was a stinking rat trap like Santo Diante.

I have marked off my pocket calendar. Today is November 3, Three Bells Day. The anniversary of the terrible boat disaster in which 25 of this isle’s inhabitants went down with the ship, at exactly three bells, first watch.

Also the date that resulted in her demise, one year ago, though no one but I noticed.

The world was being trampled under the dogs of war, and our port became the steam packet of all the parasites, scavengers and misfits that could row or swim the way to us.

I was at my usual spot in the Cartola with my usual rum punch, and searching for a buck, not caring at this moment where it came from.

Suavecito was mine. I loved her. I took her in. I worshipped her.

I watched as she ambled from table to table, one scalawag to another. When her eyes met mine, I gave her the usual disapproving look. She returned with those shrugging shoulders that told me, “This is how I make our money.”

I needed a bankroll, and in a hurry. I had to get my boat out of hock.

Then I noticed Estevao studying me from the corner.

In my time I’d sunk pretty low, but never caved in to one such as he.

He walked over to me, still sizing me up.

“Interested in a charter?” he asked.

“I’m particular who I charter to.”

“Three thousand dollars particular?’

“I don’t kill for money.”

“No kill. Carry.”

“Carry nitro?”

“Carry people.”

"What kind of people?”

“To set your mind at ease, people in search of a new life.”

“What’s the game?”

“Be at the Pier. Midnight. Five passengers.”

“Show me the dough.”

Estevao handed me three hundred.

“You said three thousand.”

“You’ll get the rest from your…guests…when they embark.”

Then he handed me another bankroll.

“This should cover the cost of gas and supplies. I know you’re dead broke.”

 Estevao shot me a sinister stare. “Just be certain this is used just for gas and supplies. To play safe, enough for a month. And be on time to embark.”
“Embark where?”

“You’ll get the details when you leave. Don’t worry, you’ll get paid double the market expense and a huge bonus if you carry it out.”

“Mind if I bring my girl along?”

“Just you. Let’s just say…your girl’s insurance that you’ll come back.”

Had I the money, I would’ve run out on Santo Diante a long time ago. Now I would have the money, but also a reason to return.

Also, now I wouldn’t have to sell my boat and be totally without a job, even one as temporary as my previous rentals.

I did my best to show Suavecito, mi Linda, knew how much I adored her and made certain that final kiss before I left was one that would assure and comfort her till my return.

Five men dressed in overcoats with wide brimmed hats met me at the pier at midnight. It was so dark I could not make out any of their faces.

“Follow me in,” I said, still unable to make them out clearly, “And fork over the dough.”

When they were inside the boat, they threw off their outerware. They were all Oriental.

“The money?”

“Thank you for reminding us, seen-your!” one of them laughed, “Hand it over!”

The five were wearing cameras around their necks. Also, all were brandishing pistols

I handed them the three hundred.

“Now, you will please embark.’

“Where?”

“Pearl Harbor.”

One of them said, “Make it a good trip, seen-your, and maybe you’ll see this money again.”

Another said, “You do want to see your girl again, don’t you?”

And a third said, “Then no funny business.”

At gunpoint, I taught one of them to take the wheel in event…something happened to me.

I had to try something.

The one I had taught to steer, he was the logical one to go. When the others were sleeping, momentarily off guard, I feigned a trip over some roping on the floor. I tackled him with the ferocity of a Notre Dame quarterback.

As he fell, I slugged him, grabbing onto him with all my might and threw him into the sea.

All that commotion woke the others. They saw one of their party was missing and pieced the thing together.

One of them took the roping from the floor and, together, they held me and tied me by the wheel.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to deduct the price of one passenger from your wages,” one said.

After a few days, they allowed me some comfort, easing my bondage at night and allowing me a hard mattress to stretch upon, always under target of a gun.

They knew better than to give me another chance. They knew that to divide their union spelled trouble, so they were all constantly watching me, studying me.

And I knew they probably had figured out by now how to steer the ship, and I was just excess baggage.

We were advancing towards the harbor. As we reached Kaua’i, I realized it was now or never. I doubted they’d allow me to live much longer.

I also had a pretty good idea about their photographic journey at Pearl Harbor.

I had only one chance.

“I need to phone in to the mainland. It might look suspicious, an unknown boat sailing so close to our fleet.”

“Suuure, seen-your, and remember to tell Santee Claus to put coal in our stockings.”

Suddenly, I pointed to the port side. “What’s that?!!”

As they rushed to look, I tackled the one closest to me, grabbed his gun, and put a bullet in his side.

Another grabbed his pistol, knocked me on the head and, and the other shot me at point blank range. While laying in a puddle of my own blood, I heard one of them grab the radio.

I heard him say, “It’s over. Take care of the girl.”

I don’t know how long I was in the hospital. I was surprised they spared me. I guess they figured getting Suavecito, mi Linda, would be punishment enough.

It wasn’t too long before I heard of the attack at Pearl Harbor.

I never discovered if all or any of them actually made it to the Harbor, or if any had a hand in the murder of over two thousand individuals.

They are now the Honored Dead.

Suavecito, mi Linda,  is among the Unremembered Dead.