LC 04 - Skeleton Crew (9 page)

"What you think?" John whispered, his breath stirring her hair.

"It's breathtaking. I think it's the most beautiful sight I've ever
seen."

"Yeah, I think so, too."

Lindsay couldn't see John in the darkness, but she felt his arm
slip around her waist and was surprised that he so accurately
found her lips in the dark, and was surprised again that he was so
very good at kissing. Yes, breathtaking, she thought to herself.
When his lips finally left hers, she wanted to pull him back. So she
did.

Several minutes passed before John spoke. He sighed and said,
"I have to turn the lights back on. If a boat comes along, they can't
see us." He flipped a switch; Lindsay blinked at the brightness and
looked at him. He touched her lips with the tips of his fingers. "If
there was ever a perfect spot on earth to kiss a woman, this is it,"
he said and kissed her cheek before starting the engine.

"How was your date?" asked Bobbie.

Lindsay was tucked into bed, reading the journal of the ancient
sailor when Bobbie came into their room.

"What? Oh. It was good. Very good."

Bobbie slipped out of her clothes and into a nightshirt. She
climbed into her bunk and settled into the crib-like bed.

"Eva Jones and Hardy Denton were eating at the same
restaurant."

"You're kidding. Where did you go?"

"All the way to Florida, can you believe it?" Lindsay told her
about the encounter.

"Wow, do you think he's the one behind the attack on Nate and
Sarah?"

"I don't know, but I think it is a possibility. He's very bitter
about losing the contract, and he seems the reckless sort. How was
your evening?"

"Uneventful. We had pizza and watched a pirate movie. The
one where Geena Davis is the pirate."

"Keeping with the theme of the site, eh?" Lindsay murmured,
drifting back to her reading.

"Yeah, we're making paper hats and wooden swords tomorrow
evening. Have you read the journal yet?" asked Bobbie.

"I'm doing it now."

"How is it?"

"Fascinating."

Froin a voyage on the Spanish galleon
'Estrella de fspai a c. 155$

Iranslated by .Harper Latham

IF LUISA HAD a gown like the night sky I see from this ship, made
from the blackest of silk from the Orient, scattered by the hand of
God with cut diamonds from Africa, a ruby here, an emerald there,
perhaps a sapphire or two and one giant pearl, what glorious raiment she would have-and-what sweet disposition.

But if Luisa had a sweet disposition, would I be on this wretched
ship on this wonderful journey? I don't know.

I've found various places on the ship where I can observe and
not get in the way of the crew performing the ceaseless repetition
of activities required to sail the ship. (The ship is a mistress who
must be constantly pampered and attended to or she can surely
cause much misery.) For many tasks, success depends on the men
working in unity. The community of seafarers have devised an
ingenious way of working in unison without having to look at one
another. They sing. Sing! I am quite amazed. Their voices cannot
be said to bring to mind a heavenly chorus, but it is not quality of
voice or the melody that is important, but the rhythm. And there
is a song for every task.

The first leg of our journey has been very difficult. All of us, even
the crew to one degree or another, became seasick until we got
used to the constant rocking of the ship. It is with pride that I write
that I was one of the least affected. The soldiers bound for Havana
are not good sailors and spend much of the time with their heads bowed over the railings of the weather deck, emptying their stomach, and cursing the real sailors for wretches.

Father Hernando left his bed and joined us for meat for the first
time in several days. He did not look hale, but the stew of salted
pork seemed to sit well in his innards-which I took from the
retching sounds coming from his quarters have been in no better
shape than the ship's. I pity Carlos and Jose who share quarters
with him.

We stopped at the Fortunate Isles this morning, anchoring in a
quiet bay where the water was a wonderful blue. If I watched
closely I could see the fish swimming near the ship.

The weather was fair for the first time since the voyage started
and I had a clear view of the high, gently rounded mountains and
distant green foliage. It was a place I would like to have visited, but
the respite was to be brief, so I satisfied myself with breathing in
the air and watching the scenery. It felt good.

Two boats rowed out to us. One contained large crates. The
other carried two passengers. One, a man of wealth and authority,
judging by his clothes and bearing, but I could not discern his
nationality. The other man took his heritage from the Orient. He
took great interest, as did his captain, with the loading of the crates.

We did not linger at the islands. As soon as the crates, fresh
water, and firewood were loaded, the captain gave the order and
the capstan rhythm began. The capstan is like a large wheel with a
hub, six spokes, but no rim. The messenger rope-a smaller rope
that is connected to the rather large anchor rope-is wound
around the hub. The chanteyman, as the singer is called, starts a
song and the sailors, four to a spoke, heave on the beat and turn
the wheel. Thus one anchor after another is raised from the depths.

The pilot Bellisaro praises God and shouts directions to the
crew. They scramble over the masts and yardarms with the mastery of squirrels scurrying over tree branches. They pull ropes and
turn yardarms in a kind of dance. When the leader sings a phrase,
the men chant oh, oh and at the same time pull one of divers
ropes, and the sails are raised. It sounds thus:

Working the sails is truly the most amazing and hazardous task
of all they do. Each sail is heavy, requiring ropes and pulleys to
manage. One slip and a man will fall to the deck or in the ocean.
The crew praise God at every chance. Living so precarious a life as
this one needs the goodwill of our heavenly Father.

We had an escort for two days after leaving the islands.
Dolphins swam with us, providing the crew entertainment by leaping out of the water. Valerian, the passenger from the islands,
stood with me and we watched the fish cavort.

"They are friendly and curious," he said, "like children. They
are, I believe, my favorite fish in the sea."

"You've encountered them before?" I asked.

"Many times. They will play with the slightest provocation."

I was going to ask where he was when he played with them,
when the captain, upon hearing our conversation, asked what
they taste like.

"Oh, my friend, I haven't eaten them. I think that would be like
eating a friend."

The captain, I could see, thought Valerian touched in the head
and moved on to query Bellisaro. He missed seeing the whale that
surfaced in the distance. They are quite large.

I sighted the Nuestra Senora del Rosario today. She is the capitanas-the lead ship in the convoy. What a majestic sight she is.
Seeing her in full splendor, all sails filled with wind, sweeping
through the ocean, I know now why some men desire to be mated
to such a creature-only to find too soon what a difficult mistress
she is. Much like my Luisa.

Pedro Acosta is the ship's captain. Bellisaro does not like him.
For his part, Acosta, I think, resents the navigator. Acosta is a man
who likes the last word. He has come to our cabin more than once
arguing for a route different from the one Bellisaro chooses. "There
is no wind there," Bellisaro tells him. The captain then yells and
stomps off. In matters of the course of this ship, it is to Bellisaro the
helmsman must listen. From my point of view, this is good, as the
captain could find neither up nor down were not down the natural
direction things fall.

We had guests today. The captain-general of the fleet came
from the Nuestra Senora del Rosario. I have met him at court. He is
a good man. I trust him. Like many men I've known with sweeping responsibilities, he is inclined to be remote to those who serve under him. But he tries to have a sense of humor. I think he only
pretends, but that only makes it a greater courtesy. I was tempted
to confide in him, but I did not.

Juan Lopez, the king's general inspector, came aboard from the
Espiritu Viento. He has a long face, eyes that droop at his lower lids,
and dark hair that curls in ringlets. His countenance would look sad
were it not for his jovial temperament. We were glad to see him.
He seemed a little pale-not surprising, having been tossed about
in such a small boat traveling from his ship to ours. We are a moving kingdom out here on the water. Instead of castles, we have
ships. Instead of horses and wagons to travel from castle to castle,
we have little boats. But we are no less connected to one another
because we are not on land. We-I say we, I mean some-move
from ship to ship as readily as we visit a neighbor and carry news
of the others. However, in our kingdom we sometimes drift out of
sight of our neighbor, or one neighbor is exchanged for another.
It is an interesting community.

The captain told the cook to prepare a feast fit for a king. So the
Captain-General, Acosta, Father Hernando, General-Inspector
Lopez, Bellisaro, Valerian, and I sat down at a table lain with six
roasted chickens stuffed with rice, almonds, and raisins, broad
beans and garlic, olives, honey cakes, and the best of the captain's
wines. My stomach was joyful, so tired was it of dried fish, boiled
pork, and dry biscuits.

Lopez entertained us with many stories of his travels. He knows
everyone. He is cousin to Father Hernando's sister-in-law; he is
acquainted with Bellisaro's grandfather. He even knows my Luisa's
sister.

"A delicious meal. The roast chicken, perfect," he spoke and
slapped Bellisaro on the back. "Was generous of Captain Acosta,
my friend, was it not, to tell the cook to prepare the chicken and
not the pork?" The navigator nodded. I could have told Lopez how
useless it is to try and engage Bellisaro in conversation.

Lopez continued to heap praises on our captain's hospitality
and to dominate the conversation. I much wanted to hear from
Valerian. I was sure he had more interesting stories to tell, but he
is often disinclined to speak-as if he has to trust those to whom
he speaks before engaging in conversation. I did learn that
although Portuguese by birth, his mother was Moroccan, and he
has since lived in many places. As he passed a platter of rice, I noticed his signet ring. It displays his initial and a falcon. I asked
him about it. He told me that it isn't a family insignia, but his own.
How fitting, I thought. I suspect that Valerian is as individual a man
as I ever will meet.

When we finished, and the captain-general took leave to visit
another of his ships, Lopez stayed. He and Valerian went with the
captain back to the captain's cabin. I was surprised. I would not
have imagined Valerian and Lopez to be friends. They do not
seem to have ever met before this journey. It is easy to make me
suspicious. It is why, I believe, that I may be well suited for this
work.

Gaining enlightenment through overhearing the crew talk is
not as easy for me as I had thought. It is not as if I do not have
access to all parts of the ship. I can go where I will. It is the language. I am becoming accustomed to the accents, and I hear the
words-but not the meaning. When I hear "Loosen the sheet," the
pilot may be giving a command to do something or other with the
sails, or he might just as well be asking for a cup! Cryptic speech
can hide much.

Valerian came to my cabin this evening carrying a heavy case.
Juan Lopez followed him, spreading his jovial spirit over our small
space. Bellisaro was resting in the corner on his cot.

"I hear that you play chess," said Valerian with a hopeful countenance.