Land of Freedom (2)

However, for some reason, they couldn't readily leave the shore. As I was about to ask the reason, curious...

The oldest middle-aged man among them asked in Spanish.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you go to such lengths?"

"..."

"Since being captured as a slave, I've seen many Spanish. Some were kind, others vicious.

Someone would pour cold water on my back when they couldn't bear to see me working under the whip in hot weather, while another would fire bullets at me, urging me to mine silver faster.

But in the eyes of all of them, I was the same—a slave. Even a kind master might try to free me, but that too wasn't without a price."

I see myself reflected in the middle-aged man's eyes. I see an ordinary grape farmer.

"But... what you're doing now has no price. No price at all."

Yet he seemed to see something else in me.