Chapter 11: The Diligencia
The little boat seemed like it would sink at any moment. The bow of that small fishing vessel, repurposed into a ferry, bravely rode the waves that were large enough to eat it whole. Droplets from the tumultuous sea showered us each time wood and water clashed.
The boatmen's calm demeanor, as well as the stored memories of the many times Martin had ridden a boat and survived, reassured me that I was in no danger. It just made me wonder why no one had figured out a safer, more comfortable way of bringing passengers from the shore to the ship.
The Diligencia was a small steamship that showed signs of age and some neglect. Only humble ships would wade into the humble waters of southern Luzon. Those criticisms, however, came from Martin's experiences. I was just in awe to be in front of this giant relic of the past.
I had seen steamships in my former life, but in museums. It was the first time I had seen one moored out in the open sea, with clouds of smoke coming out of the smokestack and alive with the loud noises of the steam engines. It hammered home that I was really back in time, back to when steam engines were the norm. And the child in me was jumping for joy.
If ships, tanks, and planes were as affordable as rifles, I would also have a collection of each.
The wind and the sun disappeared under the shadow of the steamship. The boat rode towards her leeward side, where the ladders had been set up. The rope ladders, which had wooden rungs on them, were what we called Jacob's ladders. And I had experienced climbing them enough times during my military career.
With some nostalgia, I reached out to hold the ladder while balancing myself on the boat which was rocked by the waves.
"I will get on first, Isidro, just in case it snaps when you hop onto it," I said with a chuckle as I stepped on the first rung.
My nephew responded with a groan.