HISPANOMAGNO

Cayetano Coll y Toste, a Puertorrican 20th Century historian and story teller, wrote this famous short story: “La Garita del Diablo” or “The Devil’s Sentry Post”. These posts were located through out the entire fortified walls of Old San Juan, for the purpose of guarding the perimeter of the city. Some of them were pretty nasty and isolated; Spanish soldiers assigned to them, would curse their luck and hated the idea of being sent there. It was so bad in some of them, that the commandants will only assign for their service those with disciplinary problems. This was the case with “La Garita del Diablo”: remote, lonely, very close to the sea that kept pounding and spraying it constantly; a real inferno for sure. To be sent there was a real disgrace to a soldier, and a dishonor to boot.

Coll y Toste’s legend or short story, takes place within these aggravating circumstances. It tells the story of a Spanish soldier who fell in love with a beautiful young girl from San Juan. She would come out of her home every evening to see the Spanish troops marching down Norzergary street, to the tunes of fifes’ and drums’ band, in order to see her lover. When her parents found out, they were naturally upset; in those days, soldiers, especially from Spain, did no enjoy a good reputation. So, they decided to lock her up, at least for those more exposed hours when the troops were around.

As it was to be expected, they found ways to see each other any ways, with her parents breaching every gap they left uncovered. Finally, it created a disciplinary situation for the young soldier’s commandant. Called to his office he was reprimanded first time, due to his previous good behavior; and later, when the situation continued, he was sent to la Garita del Diablo, at the farthest and lowest corner, as said, of the East side of San Cristobal’ walls. This naturally created a very difficult problem for the young lovers. It was now, almost impossible to see each other, for which reason, they knew, that a drastic solution had to be found…and they did. A number of letters, went back and forth, between them, and at the end, one night, they eloped; not before leaving a number of false clues back at the garita: a small altar, candles, a chicken blood and so forth. When the news were known, for the Sanjuaneros there was but one explanation: they had made a pact with the Devil and he had taken both of them.

Where did they really go after the whole comedy of the Voodoo altar etc., nobody knows or cared to know, because they were of one opinion: the Devil had taken them and that was it. They naturally never wrote to her family, although they quietly made some inquires and developed some theories, but preferred to be silent inasmuch as the scandal they may had purported would have been even worse. Well, this is in short the main feature of this love story; and for the last more than a hundred years, what had been held as the true story in Puerto Rico.

But… things in this world are not designed to be kept secrets or hidden for ever; and our enigma would not be an exception. Specially if it was not meant to be, they will find ways on their own to seep through, ooze out and ultimately percolate and drop down on your feet. So it went here; and it happened this way: when I was managing in the late 90’s an agroindustrial project in the Northwest side of the Dominican Republic; by just pure chance, I made some startling discoveries about this story.

In one of my trips to Cape Haitian in the Northwest side of Haiti, I met an old lady who told me she was from Puerto Rico. --Really? I answered.--and how long have you lived here? Her answer came as a chock: her great grandparents came apparently escaping from something or someone in Puerto Rico she argued. Have you heard anything about La Garita de Diablo?--I asked her-- No…nothing—she responded. How old are you?- I continued. She then told me that she was over 80 years old (she must have been about 90--women seldom tell their true age- no punt intended), which made sense in terms of the dates of the events back in San Juan. Little by little, the more I got to know her and the story she told me about her great grand parents, the more convince I was that they were in fact, those two lovers “taken” at the Garita del Diablo, back during the last part of the 19th., Century. The period they arrived at the Cape Haitian, the way they behaved, her surname, the silence and mystery around the reason they had to flee Puerto Rico; a Spanish subject, a puertorrican woman etc., prompted me to be finally convinced that they were the ones.

I made friends with Monique Jimenez, her true name, and even stayed a couple of times at her house. She lived very close to Camp Fort—in the outskirts of Cape Haitian-- with a widow daughter and two of hers sons. She never ceased to amaze me with her stories; in particular, about another one of those now forgotten “disappearances” in Puerto Rico. This time, she was originally reluctant to open up and tell all she knew—at least it seems that way to me. It happened in one of those days I was staying at her house. She had invited me to come and have some coffee out in her backyard’s gazebo when I noticed that the beams supporting the main structure, had some inscriptions. But these are spars of a sailing vessel—I told her. She looked at me and asked me how did I know? If you take a close look at the end of the main one, you will notice the inscription: Na.Sra de la Merced—I answered. And what is that?--She asked me again. I could not answer, but I promised her that I would find out. So… as soon as I was able to return to Manzanillo in the Dominican Republic, were I had de Plant, I called a friend in Puerto Rico, who was immersed in Marine Archeology. Well—he told me—give me a couple of weeks and I would check a couple of sources.
For the next months and a half, I was so busy at the farm and plant, that I completely forgot about everything and every body, including Monique and her “secrets”. Bu one night, around the end of the second month, I receive the call. Yes…my friend calls me, and very excitedly broke me the news. I thank him and invite him to come and pass some time with me in Manzanillo, which he accepted. A couple of weeks passed before I could return to Cape Haitian, specially due to too much work, and to the fact that the my boat needed a spare part that could not be found in the country. I was finally able to fix it, and sail it up to Haiti. It was then impossible to travel on land, due to the rainy season.

Monique, many years ago,--I told her, that night after arriving -- a Spanish mail four mastted brigantine in her way back to Spain, after stopping in various ports of the new world, where she was loaded with enormous wealth to be carried back to the King of Spain, just disappeared two days out of San Juan. It never made it to Seville, where she was bound, and nothing was ever known… or found. Rough estimates placed the value of the cargo between ten million to eleven million hard pesos; some forty millions dollars at today’s value. A real fortune… a true treasure. It was said, in addition, that some Spanish merchants, had secretly stowed a number of wooden barrels full of emeralds; and this was not accounted for in the ship’s manifesto because like in so many other times, this was a Navy vessel and such a cargo was prohibited.

She listened very attentively and said nothing; of course, her silence was in fact; very eloquent to me, because instead of showing at least some amazement, she kept her cool and that was not her personality. I kept going around the gazebo looking at the other spars when her daughter walked in with the Blue Mountain coffee, and some pastries. I sat next to her and ready to enjoy one of the best coffees in the world. Knowing that I must