I was old enough now to be sent out to mind our sheep, just how my mother had sent her other children at my age. My sister Carolina was then thirteen, and it was time for her to go out to work. My mother, therefore, put me in charge of our flock. I passed on the news to my two companions, and told them that I would not be playing with them anymore; but they could not bring themselves to accept such a separation. They went at once to ask their mother to let them come with me, but she refused. We had no alternative but to accept the separation.
Nearly every day after that, they came to meet me on my way home at dusk. Then we made for the threshing floor, and ran about for a while, waiting for Our Lady and the Angels to light their lamps—or put them, as we used to say, at the window to give us light. On moonless nights, we used to say that there was no oil for Our Lady’s lamp!
Jacinta and Francisco found it very hard to get used to the absence of their former companion. For this reason, they pleaded with their mother over and over again to let them, also, look after their sheep. Finally my aunt, hoping perhaps to get rid of such persistent requests, even though she knew that the children were too small, handed over to them the care of their own flock. Radiant with joy, they ran to give me the news and talk over how we could put our flocks together every day.
Each one was to open the pen, whenever their mother decided, and whoever reached the Barreiro first was to await the arrival of the other flock. Barreiro was the name of a pond at the bottom of the hill. As soon as we meet at the pond, we decided where we would pasture the flock that day. Then off we’d go, as happy and content as if we were going to a festival.
And now, Your Excellency, we see Jacinta in her new life as a shepherdess. We won over the sheep by sharing our lunch with them. This meant that when we reached the pasture, we could play at our ease, quite sure that they would not stray far away from us.
Jacinta loved to hear her voice echoing down the valleys. For this reason, one of our favorite amusements was to climb to the top of the hills, sit down on the biggest rock we could find, and call out different names from the top of our voices. The name that echoed back most clearly was “Maria.” Sometimes Jacinta used to say the whole Hail Mary this way, only calling out the following word when the preceding one had stopped re-echoing.
We loved to sing too. Interspersed among popular songs—of which, alas! We knew quite a number—were Jacinta’s favorite hymns: Salve Nobre Padroeira (Hail Noble Patroness), Virgem Pura (Virgin Pure), and Anjos, Canti Comigo (Angels, Sing With Me). We were very fond of dancing, and any instrument we heard being played by the other shepherds was enough to set us off. Jacinta, as tiny as she was, had a special aptitude for dancing.
We had been told to say the Rosary after our lunch, but as the whole day seemed too short for our play, we worked out a fine way of getting through it quickly. We simply passed the beads through our fingers, saying nothing but “Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary…” At the end of each mystery, we paused awhile, then simply said: “Our Father,” and so on. In the twinkling of an eye, as they say, we had our Rosary finished!
Jacinta also loved to hold the little white lambs tightly in her arms, sitting with them on her lap, fondling them, kissing them, and carrying them home at night on her shoulders, so that they wouldn’t get tired. One day on her way back, she walked along in the middle of the flock.
“Jacinta, what are you doing there,” I asked her, “in the middle of the sheep?”
“I want to do the same as Our Lord in that holy picture that they gave me. He’s just like this, right in the middle of them all, and He’s holding one of them in His arms.”