Chapter 18

Oh blessed Maria, it was awful. Oh star of the sea, make it stop

The ship never stopped, rocking. It was worse than a limping horse, or a galloping charger, after a night drinking wine

It surely had not been like this, when he had been on the ship, that brought him to Buenos Aires from Galica. Juan knew would have remembered suffering like this. In truth he did not remember that journey so well.  His strongest memory, of the time, simply was the boredom, and the hunger.  Always having to stay out of the way, of the sailors, for fear of getting his ears boxed. When he arrived at the Port, it was like Christmas after the driest summer

The  Iapaser... No the ``  The Lasper!’’  Well  even in the most pride ridden days of his youth  Juan had never said to even the most gullible of maids he was a sailor.
Or a clerk though he had his letters
To complete their torments the craft was being tracked by a devious pair of seagulls. They were occasionally sweeping down upon the deck looking for scraps of food where they would be chased off, by the sailors. The sworn men, of the O Neill were trying to look brave and resolute as they tried not to slip and vomit.  One had cried like a small girl startled by the seagull.
 Mercifully everyone  pretended  not to have noticed. Lest a fight had broken out, the Sworn men had confined there actions to scowls at a few Portuguese sailors.

This curious mix of Irlandessa  and Lisbonian was leavened one or two of the Fishermen, from the Village. These sons of st peter had  found there earthly reward paid in silver. Thus Juan’s master the Young Don, was able to keep the Sons of Lisbon honest, and the largesse of the O Neill, would be famed from the plains to the sea.

Juan was master of the Isaper, in the name of the great house, the O Neill. He would not let, these Portuguese, thieves and cutthroats, seem him in this moment of Weakness. .. Isaper.

He could wait in the Captain’s cabin, if he wished too. It disturbed Juan, a little. That room had been full of heretic books.  Juan had thrown them overboard.  Someone had complained that they were good firewood or something to wipe ones backside with.  Juan wanted rid of them. Now, they were in the deep.

There was a Portuguese. No, a French man., a Breton apparently was the Navigator. The man from Brest was messing around, with a spy glass, and talking to the Hands. Juan had decided, he would not have anything interesting to say.  The spy glass was worth having though. It was a good one, Juan would remember to ask, him about it when the journey was over. 

The Breton bowed, at Juan.  He had made an effort to be civil after all. Upon this ship, he had a greater claim to precedence, than then a Captain of the house of the O Neill.  Juan bowed slightly back,  Juan did not want to put too much strain on his stomach, he had no desire to become reacquainted with his breakfast.

``So, what do you think, of the plan? The great compact between the two Houses that the Dons have agreed to?

``The Don swore he would uphold his end of the pact. That is enough for me’’ `
`Beyond that it is not my station to talk more on the matter’’ Answered the Galician and nodded. The Sworn man of the O Neill went off to scan the skies, from the port deck. For reasons best known to himself. He refrained at least from puking up his guts. He would be back at the port soon. There would be his bed. Wine, and a world which stayed still under his boots

``Well, we shall be in Buenos Aires soon my friend. The Winds remain well’’

Juan nodded. The news sounded good, his stomach, was enduring the bombardment that Father Neptune, had unleashed and he hoped he would be relieved soon

The Navigator , made no more conversation, and the seagulls seemed sated.

Juan would have had a smoke. Though Juan had decided did not want to tempt fate. The sea looked calm. Juan’s nautical knowledge extended as far as the knowledge that the sea could turn, as quickly as the temper of a woman.  A stroll by the docks would provide ample proof of the inconsistency of the Ocean. More Contrary than an Ale house bawd.

If he lit, his pipe, he may be expected to share his tobacco. . Juan, did not wish to do that.. Thus Juan practised the better part of discretion. He offered his forbearance as a gift to the almighty. He would refrain from tobacco, for the honour of the Star of the sea, until he had stepped off the gangplank and onto dry line again. Perhaps Odysseus, and Father Aenas had moments like this on their journeys but the great epics neglected them.  Seasick, and sullen, did not songs make.

As to his thoughts on the colloqully in the surf? There was not really much Juan had to say on the matter.  If his confessor had asked him, Juan would have preferred his Captain fight there, and then on the beach. He’d had set the charges, well and would have made it back to the beach, Juan reckoned.

The Don, had promised everyone that it was a good decision, and he seemed pleased with it. . Juan had clouted one of his men, for gossiping about it. The sworn men could be worse than women.  They kept speaking about the lady, who was For the moment, events were out of their hands. They were in the hands, of the almighty and the sons of Lisbon. Should there be treachery, well Juan thought at least his suffering would end, and he hoped he would be avenged.

He began to whistle a tune, about a pair of virgins, who wandered too far from home