As I have already said, my aunt sold her flock before my mother disposed of ours. From then onwards, before I went out in the morning, I let Jacinta and Francisco know the place where I was going to pasture the sheep that day; as soon as they could get away, they came to join me.
One day, they were waiting for me when I arrived. “Oh! How did you get here so early?” “I came,” answered Francisco, “because–I don’t know why–being with you didn’t matter so much to me before, and I just came because of Jacinta, but now I can’t sleep in the morning as I’m so anxious to be with you.” Once the apparitions on each 13th of the month were over, he said to us on the eve of the following 13th: “Look! Early tomorrow morning, I’m making my escape out through the back garden to the cave on the Cabeco. As soon as you can, come and join me there.”
Oh dear! There I was, writing things about his being sick and near to death, and now I see that I have gone back to the happy times we had on the serra, with the birds chirping away merrily all around us. I ask your forgiveness. In writing down what I can remember, I am like a crab that walks backwards and forwards without bothering about reaching the end of its journey. I leave my work to Dr. Galamba, in case he can make use of anything in it, though I suppose he will find little or nothing.
I return therefore to Francisco’s illness. But first, I will tell you something about his brief schooling. He came out of the house one day and met me with my sister Teresa, who was already married and living in Lomba. Another woman from a nearby hamlet had asked her to come to me about her son who had been accused of some crime of which I no longer remember, and if he could not prove his innocence he was to be condemned, either to exile or to a term of some years imprisonment. Teresa asked me insistently, in the name of the poor woman for whom she wished to do such a favor, to plead for this grace with Our Lady. Having received the message, I set out for school, and on the way, I told my cousins all about it. When we reached Fatima, Francisco said to me: “Listen! While you go to school, I’ll stay with the Hidden Jesus, and I’ll ask Him for that grace.” When I came out of school, I went to call him and asked: “Did you pray to Our Lord to grant that grace?” “Yes, I did. Tell your Teresa that he’ll be home in a few days’ time.” And indeed, a few days later, the poor boy returned home. On the 13th, he and his entire family came to thank Our Lady for the grace they had received.
On another occasion I noticed, as we left the house, that Francisco was walking very slowly: “What’s the matter?” I asked him. “You seem unable to walk!” “I’ve such a bad headache, and I feel as though I am going to fall.” “Then don’t come. Stay at home!” “I don’t want to. I’d rather stay in the church with the Hidden Jesus, while you go to school.” Francisco was already sick, but could still manage to walk a little, so one day I went with him to the cave on the Cabeco, and to Valinhos. On our return home, we found the house full of people. A poor women was standing near a table, pretending to bless innumerable pious objects: Rosary beads, medals, crucifixes and so on. Jacinta and I were soon surrounded by a crowd of people who wanted to question us. Francisco was seized upon by the would-be “blessed”, who invited him to help her. “I could not give a blessing,” he replied very seriously, “and neither should you! Only priests do that.” The little boy’s words went round the crowd like lighting, as though spoken by some loud-speaker, and the poor women had to make a quick departure amid a hail of insults from the people, all demanding back the objects they had just handed over to her. I already related in my account of Jacinta, how he managed to go one day to the Cova da Iria; how he wore the rope and then handed it back to me; how he was first, on a day when the heat was suffocating, to offer the sacrifice of not taking a drink; and how he sometimes reminded his sister about suffering for sinners, and so on. I presume, therefore, that it is not necessary to repeat these things here.
One day, I was by the bedside, keeping him company. Jacinta, who had got up for a while, was there too. Suddenly, his sister Teresa came to warn us that a veritable multitude of people was coming down the road, and were obviously looking for us. As soon as she had gone out, I said to Francisco: “Alright! You two wait for them here. I’m going to hide.” Jacinta managed to run out behind me, and we both succeeded in concealing ourselves inside a barrel which was overturned just outside the door leading to the back garden. It was not long before we heard the noise of people searching the house, going out through the garden and even standing right beside the barrel; but we were saved by the fact that its open was turned in the opposite direction. When we felt that they had all gone away, we came out of our hiding place, and went to join Francisco, who told us all that had happened: “There were so many people and they wanted me to tell them where you were, but I didn’t know myself. They wished to see us and ask us lots of things. Besides that, there was a woman from Alqueidao, who wanted the cure of a sick person and the conversion of a sinner. I’ll pray for that woman, and you pray for the others–there’s such a lot of them.” Shortly after Francisco’s death, this woman came to see us, and asked me to show her his grave. She wished to go there and thank him for the two graces for which she had asked him to pray.
One day, we were just outside Aljustrel, on our way to the Cova da Iria, when a group of people came upon us by surprise around the bend in a road. In order the better to see and hear us, they sent Jacinta and me on top of a wall. Francisco refused to let himself be put there, as though he was afraid of falling. Then, little by little, he edged his way out and leaned against a dilapidated wall on the opposite side. A poor woman and her son, seeing that they could not manage to speak to us personally, as they wished, went and knelt down in front of Francisco. They begged him to obtain from Our Lady the grace that the father of the family would be cured and that he would not have to go to the war. Francisco knelt down also, took off his cap and asked if they would like to pray the Rosary with him. They said they would, and began to pray. Very soon, all those people stopped asking curious questions, and also went down on their knees to pray. After that, they went with us to the Cova da Iria, reciting a Rosary along the way. Once there, we said another Rosary, and then they went away, quite happy.
The poor woman promised to come back and thank Our Lady for the graces she had asked for, if they were granted. She came back several times, accompanied not only by her son but also her husband, who had by now recovered. They came from the parish of St. Mamede, and we called them the Casaleiros.