Tim Severin - Buccaneer

'No doubt your own vessel is well appointed but it is hardly likely to offer the same quality of accommodation as this one. My companion and I have managed to make ourselves as comfortable as possible in such trying and cramped conditions. I have informed your assistant here that I have no intention of leaving the Santo Rosario.

Sharpe was positively fawning. 'I would not wish you to be put to any inconvenience, senora. By all means you may stay here. I will instruct my men not to disturb you.' Hector wondered if Bartholomew Sharpe knew what a spectacle he was making of himself.

'Come, Maria, it is time we withdrew,' said Dona Juana and without another word she swept back into her cabin in a swirl of green silk, followed by her companion.

'She should fetch a choice ransom,' observed one of the buccaneers.

Sharpe rounded on him in a fury. 'Keep a civil tongue in your head’ he snapped. 'What happens to the lady will be decided by the council, and in the meantime you have work to do. For a start you can help dispose of the dead bodies, and clean this deck.'

Then Sharpe turned to Hector, who was still holding the bundle of ship's documents, and asked, 'What did you find out?'

'The vessel was bound for Panama. This folder contains a chart for the final approach. There are also general maps for all the entire coast. Her captain was an important man, a friend of the governor there, and Dona Juana was on her way to stay with him.'

'Lucky fellow,' commented Sharpe.

'There's also a considerable quantity of cash on board, and Ringrose believes that the ship's ballast could be turned into musket bullets.' Hector would have continued but the captain was scarcely listening to him.

'We must show her that we are not barbarians,' was all Sharpe said. 'Confine the ship's officers to the forepeak, and have them give their word that they'll not make trouble, and this evening we will entertain the senora and her companion. On this ship of course. Perhaps your friend the Frenchman can prepare a special meal.'

'What about the captain's son? He's over there.' Hector nodded towards the young man still standing miserably at the stern rail.

'Put him in the forepeak with the last of them.' 'His father possessed some fine tableware; solid silver.' 'Good. We'll use that. Later we can have it broken up and divided among the men.'

'Sharpe seems utterly smitten,' Hector commented to Jacques in the galley of the Santo Rosario that evening. The wind had died away and the two ships lay becalmed on a quiet sea. The Frenchman had been rowed across to the prize, bringing his preferred cooking utensils and dried herbs and a large tuna which he had been marinading in a mixture of sugar and salt. Jacques lifted the lid of a chafing dish, dipped a tasting spoon in the sauce, and said, 'Never underestimate the power of a beautiful woman. Particularly on men who have been so long at sea. Their heads can be set spinning until they are dizzy.' Jezreel, who was listening in, was sceptical. 'I still think that there's something not quite right about this ship. Maybe her crew put up a fight because they had a brave captain and he did not want to surrender a judge's wife. But there's more to it. I watched how she twisted Sharpe around that elegant little finger of hers. Our captain rolled over on his back and wagged his tail.'

Hector had to agree with him. He was full of admiration for the resolute poise of the two women, but he sensed a hidden reason for the women's attitude, and he was puzzled what it might be. 'If I hadn't read those despatches, I'd have said that Dona Juana was deliberately delaying us because she knows that the Spaniards are assembling a squadron of warships and will soon be here to rescue her,' he said.

Jacques blew on a spoonful of broth to cool it. 'Maybe she didn't know what was in those despatches.'

'Her husband would never have allowed her to set sail if he thought that Trinity was still operating in the South Sea.'

'Then you have to ask yourself exactly what Dona Juana wants.' Jacques took a sip from the spoon, then added a pinch of pimento powder to the broth.

'To be allowed to stay on this ship.'

'Anything else?'

'That we weren't to interfere with their private possessions.' 'Then that's where you need to look.'

'But they have been promised that we would do no such thing,' Hector objected.

Jacques shrugged. 'Then make sure that neither they nor Sharpe get to know. Dinner is to be served in the open air, out on the quarterdeck. I suggest while the two ladies and our gallant captain are enjoying my cuisine, someone searches their cabin. Dan climbs like a goat. He can get in through the stern window, examine the cabin and get out again before they finish my dessert - it will be a syllabub of coconut, worth lingering over.'

'I have a better idea,' said Jezreel. 'There's a small hatch in the floor of the stern accommodation. I found it when we were checking the cargo hold. It's normally used by the ship's carpenter when he inspects the tiller trunking. Someone small - either Dan or Hector — should be able to get into the cabin that way.'

In the end it was decided that it would be quicker if both Dan and Hector carried out the search together, and they managed to squeeze their way into the cabin without much difficulty. There they found nothing suspicious except that the large clothing trunk was firmly locked.

'I can't imagine that the ladies feared the crew would steal their dresses,' said Dan. He felt in his pocket and produced the priming wire he used for cleaning the vent of his musket. Slipping the end of the wire into the lock, he gave a twist and a moment later was easing back the lid.

'Jacques would be proud of you. I doubt he was quicker in his time as a Paris burglar,' whispered Hector.

The trunk was stuffed with gowns, skirts, petticoats, mantuas, capes, chemises, gloves and stockings, all so tightly packed together that Hector wondered if it would ever be possible to shut the lid again. He plunged his arms into the mass of taffeta and silk and lace, and began to feel down through the layers. Two-thirds of the way through the excavation his fingers met a solid object. It felt like a large book. Carefully easing it out of the hiding place, he saw that it was another folder, very similar to the one in which Captain Lopez had kept his charts. Hector stepped across to the stern window where the light was better, and turned back the cover. He knew at once that he was holding in his hands the dead captain's private book of navigation. It was filled with his daily drawings and observations. There were diagrams of anchorages marked with their soundings, drafts of harbour approaches, dozens of coastal profiles, sketches of islands, observations of tides and currents. The folder contained a lifetime of Captain Lopez's experience as a navigator. Quickly Hector riffled through the pages. There must have been almost a hundred of them, covered with drawings and notes. Some were many years old. They were sea-stained and frayed, the ink fading, and probably drawn when Lopez first went to sea. Other pages were drafted by a different hand and appeared to have been copied from official books of sailing instructions. 'So it was not all in his head,' Hector muttered to himself as he replaced the folder, burying it deep within the scented garments. Then Dan relocked the trunk, and Hector followed the Miskito down through the little hatchway.

'That's why the captain risked our musket fire. He was trying to get to the cabin to reach the folder,' said Hector when he and Dan got back to the galley and found Jezreel running a large thumb round the salver on which Jacques had served the coconut syllabub. 'He must have known that his ship was likely to be captured and he was determined not to let his navigation notes fall into our hands. He would have dumped the folder into the sea the moment he decided to surrender.'