LC 04 - Skeleton Crew (20 page)

"You see," he said, "I believe the failure is in their analogy." I
nodded. "Men like da Vinci see birds fly and design their devices
so, like Icarus." (I knew who Icarus was and I nodded more vigorously.) "But men are not like birds," he said. On this point, I could
agree and said so. "It is like a ship and a rock. A ship floats on
water, a rock sinks, even though the ship is much heavier. The two
are different," he said.

"True," I agreed, but I did not know why, nor did I ask, so
ashamed was I of my ignorance. And so eager was I not to disappoint Valerian. He chose to talk to me because he believes me to
be an intellectual equal, at least more of one than anyone else on
the ship.

"So it is with a man and a bird," he continued. "However, you
can put a rock on a -ship and it will float. Don't you see?"

"A ship that flies?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, shaking me.
"Exactly. I knew you would understand."

I had to make a bold move if I was ever to discover anything.
That is what I decided while lying on my cot listening to the snores
of Bellisaro and trying to think of a way to accomplish what Perez
has asked of me. Wisps of half-heard conversations, and unsupported and perhaps unfounded suspicions whirled in my brain. I
hated the idea of returning to the House of Trade and telling them
that, after a month and a half in a confined space, I had failed to
discover anything. Then I remembered the crates of Valerian's that
were loaded when we stopped at the islands. As I am convinced
that Valerian has something to do with whatever intrigue the captain and Lopez are engaged in, examining his cargo seemed a sen sible idea. I did not, however, look forward to descending into the
dark hold of the ship. Perhaps I should have attended to such a
deed during the day when at least some light could drift down to
the depths, but I was eager for my activities to remain concealed.
I am sure that Lopez and the captain have only vague suspicions.
(How could they know anything? I've been so discreet as not to
have discovered anything of import.) However, I don't know how
either might react to my spying, and I confess that my hands
shook with fear as I groped through my travel chest in the darkness for the things I needed for this adventure. I hurriedly put on
clothes that I least minded getting soiled, then felt through the
chest for a candle and my flint striker. My bowels quickened anew
as I slipped the two into my pouch. Order of Santiago or not, if the
captain caught me with a lighted candle, I'd certainly be keelhauled-such is the gravity of starting a fire aboard ship. My hand
touched the pomander that Luisa had given me, and I had the odd
sensation of missing her. I also recollected the unpleasant aromas
rising from below the decks, so I slipped it into my pouch.

Thus armed, I stole from my cabin. I made a furtive glance
around me and made my way through the dark corridor to the
hatchway. There were two lanterns hanging nearby. Only one was
lit. I took the other. If caught, it would be far better if I had a
lantern than a lighted candle. I climbed down to the main gun
deck, where I tried to be particularly quiet, for many of the crew
as well as the soldiers sleep there. However, there were none in the
immediate vicinity and I continued down to the orlop deck. Here
I stopped and lit my lantern. Some of the ship's stores were on this
deck, so I looked around, peeking in adjoining rooms. Valerian's
crates had been heavy. I saw that as they were loading them, so I
reasoned they would probably be stored in the hold. For this reason, and the fact that the stewards and other officers' cabins were
on this deck, I did not tarry.

Upon descending into the hold, I discovered one thing immediately-I prefer the deck of the ship, with all its hazards, to the
innards. Surely the depths of hell must be like the belly of a ship,
inhabited by the vilest of vermin and saturated with a putrid
stench that even the most pungent burning of sulfur cannot
expurgate. I feel for the unfortunate men, blessed by neither God
nor king, who must attend to the bilge. I reached for my pomander and put the silver metal to my nose and inhaled the fragrant spice. Would that I had some method to tie the thing there. I hung
the pomander on my finger and held my sleeve over my nose. It
helped, but I had to use all my will to not choke on the smell. To
think they store the food and drinking water down there. Meals
will never be the same for me.

The hold was not exactly as I had thought, a vast cavern piled
with barrels and crates. It was vast, but it was divided into stalls
and walkways. I squatted and held my lantern and peered down
at the very bottom of the ship between the planks of the walkway
where I stood. Undoubtedly the origin of the stench. With the
rocking of the ship a greenish putrid fluid flowed back and forth
among tightly stacked gray rocks. A partially decomposed rat lay
on one of the rocks. I said a silent prayer for the continued good
repair of the bilge pump, lest the fouled water reach the stored
food and drinking water. The storm, I thought. The pumps had
been continuously running. Let's hope the water level in the hold
didn't rise too high. It did, however, seem damp down there.

I stood and looked for Valerian's crates. They were the last
loaded, so they should be near, I reasoned. The hold was not as full
as I would have thought. It seems that most of the supplies are
ours. We are supposed to be taking supplies to St. Sebastian. I fear
the colonists will be disappointed at the paltry show of provisions;
however, we have ample room for contraband. But why not take
the supplies over? For surely, after their unloading, there would be
ample room for any cargo for the return voyage. It seems almost
as if we aren't actually going to St. Sebastian.

The hull was quiet except for the constant creaking of the wood
rubbing against itself as the ship wafted. It reminded me that I
shouldn't miss the opportunity to look for the crates while there
was no one there to observe me. I walked along the walkways,
peeking into the various stalls. There are many barrels stored on
their side and kept from rolling by wooden wedges jammed
between them. Extra rope lies in coiled piles on top. Across in
another area, stacked neatly are the staves and bands of barrels
that have been emptied. For all the foul smell, the hold is neatly
organized. Adjacent to the kegs are sacks of grain and foodstuffs.

I continued searching down the length of the ship toward the
bow. The hold is a maze of recesses and alcoves. I feared I would
be there all night. I reached the magazine and started back toward
the stern, when I spied the crates in a recess. As I examined them, I noticed that someone had been down before me, for the lids had
been pried open and hurriedly fastened back. Not Valerian or his
servant, for surely as carefully as they oversaw the loading, they
would not have been so careless in the checking of them. I
stepped on top of one, raised my lantern, and peeked in the tallest
first. I don't know what I expected, but I was surprised at what I
found. It was a large bell. For all my suspicions of Valerian, is he
actually on some holy pilgrimage to St. Sebastian? Perhaps I have
misjudged the poor fellow. I closed and fastened the lid, wondering if the curious fellow before me had been disappointed. I felt
relieved. I pried open the other crate, which was actually as large
as the first; it was simply on its side. Inside was, at first glance, a
coil of rope. However, it is not hemp, but leather sewn into a hollow shaft. I have no idea what such a thing is used for. Beneath the
leather coil were other objects, the purpose of which I cannot
guess. I closed the lid and quickly blew the light from my lantern
just as I heard someone coming. In my haste to secret myself, I
dropped my Luisa's pomander and it fell through the space
between the planks and into the bilge.

There were two of them. I could barely make out the shadowy
figures of two crew members as they moved away from the ladder
toward my hiding place. One was the man Sancho, whom we rescued from the ill-starred Orgullo de Espana. The other was a man I
have seen but do not know.

"Why did you want to meet down here?" asked the man in a
loud, hissing whisper. "This is the worst place on the ship."

"Which is why it is a good meeting place, especially at night,"
Sancho answered. "So no one will hear us."

"Say what you have to say, so we can leave."

Sancho began relating a plot for his own smuggling. On much
less a measure than captains and generals, but illegal, nonetheless.
"They will store the gold and silver in the hold, or on the orlop
deck. The treasure they do not wish to declare will be offloaded
before they take it into port. In a ship this size, they don't go all
the way to the port at Seville. Sometimes they load it in small boats
and row it to a friendly port."

"So what does that have to do with us?" asked the sailor.

"We can get some of the booty," said Sancho.

"Just how do we do that?" the man asked. I was interested to
know myself.

"Easy-we take a few bars of gold and silver and hide them on
the ship. When we get off, it goes with us."

"And just how do we get our hands on a few bars of gold?"

"That's where you come in," Sancho answered him.

"I wondered when we were getting to that."

"You work with the cargo. It would be easy to just take a little
extra."

"No," the sailor said. "It won't work. We'll get caught and
hanged."

"No. I've done this before. It's easy," Sancho told him.

"If it's so easy, then why are you here dressed in rags like the
rest of us?"

"If I were here dressed in fine clothes, they'd find me out,
wouldn't they? Look. We don't take much. Men like us don't need
as much as the rich. You don't get greedy, you don't get caught.
I've got a blacksmith friend who can turn a bar of gold into coins.
Just a few extra coins a year, and nobody notices but us what's living better. They steal it among themselves, but it's us what does
all the work."

A long silence followed. So interested was I in listening to the
conversation that I almost forgot about the terrible stench, but it
came upon me in the silence, and I had to hold my mouth to keep
from retching and making a noise.

"We can't just walk off the ship with gold," said the sailor. "It's
heavy and they search our chests. If you've done this before, then
you know that."

"We hide it in something that's going off the ship. Once me
and a mate hid silver in the ballast, carried it off when we were
changing it out. There's more ways than I have fingers and toes.
That's not the problem, but I need a mate I can trust." Sancho
was very persuasive-I could almost feel the man changing his
mind.

"We only take a small amount," the sailor said. I heard Sancho
slap him on the back.

"Not enough that they'd notice."

"Let's get out of this place," said the sailor. "We can talk more
when we stop in Havana. It's a long way to Cartagena. Time
enough, I suppose, to make a good plan."

Mercifully, they left soon after. I waited, holding my sleeve over
my nose, hoping to keep out some of the odor. Finally, I could take it no more. I made my way in the dark and climbed up to the top
deck. I stood on the bow, breathing in the fresh air.

"Can't sleep?" It was Valerian. He came up beside me so quietly, I jumped. The bow's lantern and the full moon lit his features
enough so that I could see his nose twitch. "Been in the hold, have
we?"

I smiled. What could I say? I had forgotten that the aroma
clings to the clothes.

"Next time you feel like a walk around the bottom of the ship,
let me know. I enjoy a good midnight stroll."

"'SOMEONE DESTROYED THE radio." Harper held up the dangling
cord.

"I don't believe this." Bobbie threw her hands in the air.

"What are we going to do?" Lindsay asked.

Bobby dug in a box and came up with a flag. "We'll put this distress flag on our antenna, . . . but it's so dark, I doubt anyone will
see it unless they shine a light on us. I don't see any boats around
anyway."

"Do we have more options?" Lindsay asked, looking out at the
choppy ocean and the distant shore in the moonlight.

"Sure," said Harper. "The flare guns are still here." She dug in
the boat's locker. "Well, no they aren't. We do have the rubber raft
and oars, and we all have our purses."

"Our purses? Oh, but I don't have my cell phone with me,"
replied Lindsay.

"I don't have one," Bobbie said.

Harper smiled and dug in her purse. "I'm never without mine."
She pushed the power button. "However, I do appear to be without a close enough tower. We'll drift in with the tide, so we don't
have to worry about that. We can just stay here a while."

They drifted in the boat for what seemed to Lindsay like an
eternity.

"Can't we jury-rig a sail?" she asked at last. Harper and Bobbie
looked at each other, then at Lindsay. "Maybe we can use an oar
for a mast."

"I'll tell you what," said Harper. "You can stand in the middle
of the boat with your arms stretched out for yardarms and hold a
blanket. We'll tell you which way to turn."

"I take it that'sa 'no' on the jury-rigging."

"I vote for the raft," said Bobbie, pulling it out of the locker.

"What about the boat?" Lindsay asked.

"We tow it," said Harper.

Bobbie put the raft over the side and pulled the plug. Within
seconds it had inflated itself like some sped-up animated cartoon
and sat bobbing next to their boat. They all laughed at the effect,
then piled in the raft, and Harper tied the boat to the back.

"Who wants to row first?" Bobbie asked. Lindsay volunteered.
"When you get tired, we'll switch out."

"I must say," Lindsay said as she began rowing, "the two of you
don't seem too upset about this."