Chapter 19

The navigator raised his hand, and called for one of the hands, to fetch something from the cabin. The sailor returned on deck, a moment later with the spy glass. There were birds swooping down, over the water, somewhere to the west. Was that the port or the starboard side? Juan had forgotten. It had been explained to him twice and he felt no need to imitate Peter.  In fact the proud Galician was sure that the Portuguese made it up, as they went along.   The company of Irlandessa that made up this ship’s company became aware of their nerves. They remembered that they were aboard a ship, and a long way, from home, at least they could still see land. Like a drunkard, stumbling homeward they stayed close to that which was sturdy and solid

One of the fishermen, walked to the Navigator who was the viceroy for the Portuguese Ship master, and whispered something to him.

The Navigator turned to Juan and bid him, join him.  For an instant Juan thought, should he draw his sword?  No!  If those blackguards had  wanted him, dead, it would have been well done by now.  They had after had to put up with the sworn men of the O Neill, for more time, than cut throats patience would stand.  Honest men suffered a noisy fool, with a hangover Juan reasoned.

Juan frowned and strained his eyes, there was something bobbing up and down on the horizon. The Navigator handed the spy glass over to the horseman. Juan, there was an arm, grey and bloated, on a bit of wood.  There were sea birds, diving into the horizon.

The Navigator spoke to the fisherman, quickly. Than he shouted to the sails, and after the sails had been scolded. The word was sent to the helmsmen. For a moment, the deck of the little ship was like an artillery piece in the middle of a siege, or like a comic opera. Everyone had their part to play. The ship, began to tack slowly.  Ever so slowly, it moved away from the land, and Juan, felt his hand on his dagger.

For a moment, Juan considered that the little ship was the size and weight of a small chapel. The helmsmen and the winds were moving it.  Unlike the chaos of a storm, the west wind was moving their craft with direction and discipline. It was a tornado, held in yoke, to a band of fishermen and sailors. No one’s first choice, an afterthought and a purse of silver, and yet they moved easier, than a team of oxen.

The Navigator, eye was at the spyglass again. Again he insisted that Juan share the vision.

There was a body, floating in the sea, face down, and a barrel, and several planks. Pieces of parchment lurked under the surface.

What had come to pass?  For a moment, Juan felt, a sudden stab of fear. ``Our Dons? ‘’ The Galician hold on his tongue suddenly became  a touch weaker and demanded an answer

``No, no. 

They are up wind. We have changed course, and we would have heard, if not seen, the fate of the IIasper. A ship to be destroyed like this must mean a storm, or a battle. The sky has been clear. The Captain the most   sober.  The Salve Regina remembered, when we sight land

Thus we should have shared their fate. The storms, do not respect rank. ‘’

The Heretics? Ventured the Galician.

The navigator frowned, and looked away; he bit his lip, and shared his mind.

``They were engaged in their work; long before your master, surprised them upon the strand. They may have fallen upon a ship leaving the port. This is all that remains, though I would rather God grant, that one of our ships has surprised them’’

The ship as one made the sign of the cross. The company hoping that there petition would find an audience and a response, in heaven. 

The hands returned to the if not earthly usual works, they struggle with the anchor. They strained and sweated. Anchor and chain, were soon submerged. The hands clambered aboard a small row boat, and made, there way, towards the horizon.  The ships company, now waited.

 Someone dived overboard, to fetch a barrel, from the drink. The barrel, rode high, on the water, and he lifted it easily, as he was pulled aboard. He shivered, and thanked, the Navigator for the sea cloak, and cup he was soon presented with.

 They all crowded around the barrel. It was wine, Spanish wine, and almost empty.

The navigator, nodded towards Juan, and banged on the barrel. ``An empty canteen, cavalier, observed the navigator such would mean the end of the days ride for a horseman.  An empty barrel spells the end of voyage for a seaman’’

The garrulous Navigator words meant that the ship, was from the North, it was Spain. It had been close to the end of its journey when it met its cruel fate.

``Take heart from one thing. This is not our masters and friends ship. ‘’

The oarsmen had stopped there little boat. The Hands had a name for it, the Pinnacle.. The crew of little boat, were bringing something back, into their little boat. It was heavy, and the boat sat low, in the waves as it returned back to the ship.  The Navigator handed to Juan, the spyglass. There was a chest, a good, chest, aboard, the boat.

There was little talk, as the oarsmen returned.  A score of men, kept their eyes, on the chest, as they winched it aboard. Half a score, sought cloaks, and a place by the fire.

He would never complain about the smell of horses again.

It had been floating, it was not coin or plate that was inside than. They took a few moments, to jerry the lock off, the sea chest. The lock was still fast even being lost upon the brine had not been enough for it to weaken in its duty.

There were papers. A chest full of papers, letters for the governor, from Madrid. The seal of the holy office was unbroken. Juan crossed himself. The heretics would not have spared anyone they caught on a ship with the inquisition aboard. There would have been no mercy. No quarter!

All was not lost, the Navigator said.  Speaking grimly, sooner we will get into port the better. This has turned out to be a black day, for us all Irlandessa and Portuguesa.

Juan agreed. They Men of the O Neill began prayers for the repose of the souls of their lost comrades.  Over the rigging and sails, he could hear, the sailors and fishermen join in the requiem.  The next day, the Galician went to mass, for their souls. Sitting across from the Portuguese men, sailors and merchants, and their wives and children.. Juan prayed not without sincerity for the souls of men, he would never meet.  Gabriella received a piece of silver for a candle. She did not quarrel or sigh about this expenditure.   After the mass had ended., Juan   rode off, with his Captain and waited outside of the house of the Governor

There was spits and sighs of rain, all day. Juan sheltered against the horse.  A boy came out, and lit them a crude brazier, he received a copper and honest thanks. The young Don, stayed behind closed doors. The Governor, had pressed one of his household to stand outside, to act as sentinel. The discussions were not for the laity, or commons.  About an hour later an emissary from the Portuguese joined the heir of Conn, and the representative of the Kingdom of Spains. The representative from Lisbon was an older man. Juan had recognised, from after the fire. The Portuguese  as befits a  Gentleman had arrived with a manservant to, yet he given the Galicain the courtesy of a Nod, and was replied with a polite bow.  The Portugese servant took his place on the opposite side of the door. Juan would captured for his House, the dextrous side.  His counterpart stood sinister , silent as the grave . With no tobacco and knowing better to wander off, Juan spent an hour staring at his horses hooves.  The Horseman checking and then, rechecking the equines feet for signs of illness, or some  other trouble that lurked between hoof and shoe. . A task he had been entrusted with as a boy, and would do until he was feeble.   Homer did not record who fed the horses of Achilles while he quarrelled with Agamemnon, someone had to. If the Myrmidon had taken his counsel there would be no Homer.

A trio of horses, clattered up the street  breaking Juan’s caravan of thought. Three horses..two greys and a brown mare. They were well looked after and well-bred animals. These were slowly followed by a few well-dressed servants walking behind them on foot. The party was led by a husband and wife. The pair, had reaped their harvest of children, and now waited patiently for winter.. Juan, remembered them from somewhere, guests of the master? Or devotees at one of the better chapels in Buenos Aires The whole procession was respectable, very respectable. When he married Gabriella he should have to travel in such a manner. The last of the sacraments was represented too. The party was accompanied by   a friar, as old as Abraham, himself, slightly behind them on a mule.

The caravan was completed by another old woman, in windows black, upon a quiet mare, by her side there was a blonde lady. Younger than her companion Gabriellas age.  She held no mystery to Juan. The Galician recognised her. While his heart was beating he would never forget her. The night of the great fire, a madman had lunged at the master, and this was his deliverer.  It was her with the silk, and horse pistol, her with the impeccable manners, and deadlier aim.

The lamps were being lit, when the Master brought the news

We are going to Lima,