Henri sees this happening but is having trouble of his own. Somewhere along the line, a nail cut through his right tricep and that arm doesn’t work anymore. He’s got the water jug rope wrapped around his lame arm so tightly he can’t feel it. Another cross-current wobbles them, tangling Henri, Jocylyn, and Espwa together in a mass. While within arms reach, Jocelyn and Henri pass their jugs back and forth again until each has two partially filled water jugs. As if God is still interested, the next wave is gentle and allows all three to rest together on top of a new life raft made of refuse and water jugs.
Jocelyn takes a long pull of water from one of her jugs while Henri gently cradles Espwa against his chest. Then Jocelyn hands the water jug to Henri, and takes Espwa back in exchange. Jocelyn’s face gleams in the reflected moon light, her scarred cheek accentuating her burning eyes. After Espwa is nestled safely in her lap, they relax for a moment. Espwa is content for now. Henri leans against Jocelyn and enjoys the feeling of her warm back against his own bleeding and scarred skin.
Then either God or Agwé herself decides to get involved and a suitcase floats by. Henri snags its handle with his foot and pulls it toward their little raft. Fortunately, it isn’t locked and opens easily with his first try and he pushes it behind him to Jocelyn. Henri hears her squeal in happy surprise. He looks over his shoulder to see Jocelyn pulling a pink onesie over Espwa’s tiny head.
The effort to do all this is overwhelming. As the suitcase fills with seawater, Henri sees a flashlight inside. He hooks its elastic loop with his foot and pulls it toward him. Moving methodically now, he carefully grips the light in his left hand, pushes the switch, and is stunned to see it burst into clean, white light. Henri snaps out of his momentary trance when he hears the sound of a small, outboard boat engine. The putt, putt, putt, of its motor is audible over the wind, but it seems to be passing by them instead of coming closer.
Jocelyn tries to cry out toward the sound, but her voice is too cracked from hours of shouting, crying, and praying. She can barely utter a croaking squeak. Henri’s in terrible shape himself and can barely even raise his head, much less summon the energy to call for help. Instead, he just holds his left arm up as high as he can and waves the flashlight in every direction. After a long minute, he hears the putt, putt sound getting closer.
Jocelyn and Espwa are slipping away now. The ropes that held them together for a few minutes, now untangling themselves. Henri tries to keep his arm high with the flashlight, while frog/crawling his way toward them. He’s falling behind though, his muscle mass causing him to sink. He has no body fat and can only keep afloat by kicking his legs. But they’re so tired now. Henri is starting to feel that “going to die now” calm seeping in again. He’s still paddling with his left hand out of habit, the flashlight gone and forgotten. He’s feeling peaceful though. No longer really that concerned about what’s happening because it’s happening somewhere else. Soon he will be free.
Then a boat appears. Henri thanks all the gods that it’s not a US Coast Guard cutter, but a fishing boat even smaller than the one they stepped onto in Haiti. It doesn’t have a US or Haitian flag but his eyes are streaming with sea water and it stops mattering as another wave washes over his head. As the boat draws closer, two men are leaning over its bow with long poles, orange life preservers at the end of each. Another man kicks off his shoes and dives into the water, swimming quickly toward Jocelyn and Espwa.
The boat draws closer and Henri can see the boat’s captain. He’s very dark-skinned, compared to the men that are pulling them into the boat. After they’re safely onboard, the captain gives sharp orders to the crew and they quickly wrap wool blankets around the three Haitian refugees. Then some hot, sweet, black coffee from a thermos. Then a banana and some crackers. Then, one of the men who helped pull them from the water, exchanges places with the captain at the boat’s wheel.
The captain sits down on the deck beside them and Henri sees that he has Haitian features. Henri glances up at the Captain with a look of surprise. The captain just nods at him before leaning down to pat Espwa on her swaddled back. Then he squats down and looks calmly and kindly into Jocelyn’s eyes, “Gracias, pequeña madre” Then into Henri’s, staying there long enough for both men to share mutual respect. Then the captain says in Haitian Kreyòl, “Welcome to Cuba. NOT Guantanamo. You’re safe now.”