The Stolen Maps E-Book

Trevor Tucker

• Herausgeber: Trevor Tucker Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

It is 1519 and two intrepid Portuguese seafarers set off on separate missions to different parts of the globe. Their journeys intersect with the European discovery of ‘The Great South Land’.
Manny Perez, young and adventurous, and Cristo de Mendonça an older, experienced naval officer, become friends and agree to map the east coast of this wild continent, unknown to white people.
Danger and death await on land and sea as the explorers make contact with the indigenous people of this strange new place, and face the worst that nature can hurl at their ships.
Lost, re-drawn, then stolen, Manny and Cristo’s precious maps become a treasure sought after in a race between empires.
Heroism, tragedy, and intrigue reverberate all the way through history, leading to the discovery of a secret lying buried beneath modern Australia’s coastal sands.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Praise for Trevor Tucker

Also by Trevor Tucker:

Memorial

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part II

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Part III

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Part IV

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Part V

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Part VI

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Part VII

Chapter 45

Glossary

Afterword

Acknowledgments

Bibliography

Trevor Tucker

PRAISE FOR TREVOR TUCKER

I read Trevor’s first book, Ned Kelly’s Son, and whilst I have not been a prolific reader I found that I could not put it down and read it, for me, in record time.

The Stolen Maps by Trevor equally tantalized me with its incredible and fascinating storyline. This book, with its surprising ending, signals the emergence of a believable and talented story teller and it is well worth the read even if you are not a history buff. If you think you have a reasonable knowledge about the discovery, history and colonising of Australia then you might like to think again and consider the contents of this book.

Michael Watt. Retired Public Servant; Boolarra, Vic.

A deft and nimble novel. It’s easy to get lost in this escapade which sets a gripping pace that will keep you guessing until the very end: what every writer wants, but rarely achieves.

Matthew McClatchie. Book cover designer and illustrator.

The Stolen Maps is a compelling & exciting read. If you’ve read Trevor’s previous book, Ned Kelly’s Son, you will see similarities: it is so totally believable and difficult to discern what is fact and what might be fiction. Most enjoyable.

Yvonne Versteegen. Retired gym instructor.

Credible and incredible... and quite probable. Another really good read. Well done, Trevor.

Wyn James. Former high school humanities teacher; Geelong, Vic.

I felt as if I was part of this seriously interesting story. Witness for yourself this amazing expedition made by some most unexpected characters.

Kaye Matthes. Farmer; Portland, Vic.

Loved the characters. Loved the background indigenous intrusions. An ending which will shock. Well worth reading.

Jeff Spencer. Retired mechanical engineer; Rockhampton, Qld.

A plausible account spanning 450+ years. A persuasive read: its purpose achieved.

Col Beech. Retired Sydney suburban train driver and occasional short story writer.

The missing gap in Australia’s history? A captivating, thought provoking narrative about bravery, adventure, discovery and lost destiny. Nice work, mate.

Gerry Lock. Construction company Project Leader; Gladstone, Qld.

ALSO BY TREVOR TUCKER:

Ned Kelly’s Son

A Sense of Justice

God Only Knows When

THE STOLEN MAPS

TREVOR TUCKER

TREVOR TUCKER PUBLISHING

The Stolen Maps Copyright Trevor Tucker 2017

This edition published by Trevor Tucker Publishing 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means: graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, scanning, or by any information retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author, with the exception of brief quotations in reviews or articles.

ISBN POD: 978-1-922825-30-8

EPUB: 978-1-922825-31-5

Cover Design by Leandra Wicks

To my darling daughter, Shelley, whose innocent comments and her happy, yet forthright disposition is revealed as Bella, one of the characters portrayed in this novel.

MEMORIAL

During the 14th to 16th centuries, many adventurous Portuguese seamen lost their lives whilst exploring our then largely uncharted planet. Regrettably, all of the formal records of their maritime existence were allegedly lost forever.

Despite that loss, those centuries of exploration and discovery no doubt generated great excitement. See in your mind’s eye the unexpected and fabulous discoveries made by those incredibly courageous individuals who challenged the power and enormity of the world’s oceans in nothing more than a small wooden ship—the caravel.

For just a moment, can you also feel the dread of the unknown, which must have confronted all of those men—when so far from home—knowing that not even their most fervent prayers would be heard if catastrophe struck.

Ponder also the frustration of the subsequent families of those who did so much and survived: to have to accept that their descendants would forever go unrecognised in the annals of Portuguese history for lack of verifiable proof of their deeds.

Hopefully, this account may readdress that situation for the sacrifice and bravery of those explorers should forever be acknowledged.

The prevailing and enduring oaths of secrecy surrounding all maps, charts, logbooks, and journals associated with any journey made by any Portuguese citizen (whether either military, or private in nature) beyond the Cape of Good Hope was strictly policed by a Government authority known as The Casa da India e Mina, located in Lisbon. Oaths of secrecy had to be sworn before sailing. To either disobey that law, or not hand in all required documents upon return to Portugal, guaranteed the death penalty.

This was understandable, since Portugal’s “spice interests” in the East—their New World—was lucrative indeed, and needed to be zealously protected. Successive Portuguese governments had no intention of telling strangers anything that would either encourage them, or show them how to get to their New World. The ongoing oath system and the secret workings of the Casa da India, enhanced by its strict day-to-day security, proved advantageous for Portugal for more than two centuries.

The Casa da India worked painstakingly to evaluate all logbooks and to interpret all technical navigational matters presented to it, intending to produce the first full mapping of the world—a world then theoretically belonging almost exclusively to Portugal—and release that map at a time best suited for Portugal’s political and military interests.

Prior to the 1st of November 1755, all of this work was thought to have never seen the light of day, except for the now famous Map, The Dauphine… a map of the world that included Australia for the first time, and was first produced in 1536.

However, it would seem breaches in the oath system and security measures did occur. Some maps, allegedly emanating from The Casa da India, surfaced throughout Europe between 1450 and 1755, claiming originality. But the Casa da India neither confirmed nor denied knowledge of the existence of any of them, including the Dauphine.

Regrettably, following The Casa da India’s untimely, total destruction and the loss of its entire contents on the 1st of November 1755—resulting from an earthquake, fires, and a tsunami that devastated Lisbon—the provenance of those maps will therefore always be questionable.

Other priceless maps, having their origins in the 1520s, made it safely to The Casa da India: they definitely went missing… but their provenance was later proven to be undeniable.

AND SO, AUSTRALIA’S GREATEST MARITIME SECRET?

Captain James Cook of the British Royal Navy was indeed a bold, adventurous soul who arguably in his lifetime travelled the world’s oceans farther than any man.

Conveniently, traditionally accepted history accredits the discovery of Australia, to Cook; i.e. his claim being that he had demonstrated Australia existed as a separate continent and, moreover, that he was the first European to map the east coast of Australia.

The truth however lies elsewhere: approximately 250 years before Cook, the Portuguese had already done both!

PARTI

THE ESFORCAR-SE

While returning to Melbourne after a fishing trip in South Australia, I stopped overnight at a caravan park near Warrnambool, in western Victoria, Australia.

The next morning when I was walking down to the beach intent upon checking out the fishing potential of the area, I crossed paths with a casually dressed aboriginal man of indeterminate age; of perhaps sixty years old, I reckoned. That initial meeting was accompanied by his friendly broad smile and a confident, well spoken, ‘G’day mate, looking to do a bit of fishing? The tides on the way in but the real action should start in about an hour.’

He’d somehow just answered the exact questions I’d been posing to myself! How did he know that? Or was it just a coincidence of thought; of a local offering well-intentioned local knowledge?

It was my turn to smile. I stopped walking and introduced myself. His name was Dan Landford, and it was soon revealed his mob had lived in this area long before Jesus was a boy.

That brief introduction somehow extended to become a very pleasant and interesting exchange of stories. I remember opening our conversation expressing my admiration for the courage of the first fleets that had sailed from England to Australia, braving this savage stretch of coastline. I also lamented that many had unfortunately never made their destination, drowning when their ships were wrecked during the terrible storms for which this area was famous (or was it infamous?).

However, what really grabbed my interest was Dan’s casual comment, ‘Yeah, I agree, but how much do you know about the poor buggers who arrived here nearly three hundred years before them?’

Around midday, we shook hands and went our separate ways, but not before pledging that one day we’d meet again. Regrettably that has never happened. Nevertheless, Dan’s amazing story, in part, although with some embellishment of the historical facts that correlate with his story, is now safe within the pages that follow.

1

Juan Emmanuel Perez had two options at the age of twenty-six. Remain in Spain and be taxed into poverty, or follow a rumour that a fortune awaited anyone brave enough to establish a business in Lisbon, the fastest growing city in Portugal, if not in the whole of Europe.

Portugal’s coastal settlements were growing rapidly, and Juan’s maritime skills would surely be in great demand. Wisely, he chose the latter, typical of his spirit and mindful of the need to provide for Angelina, his wife, and their infant son, Rodriguez.

Juan and Angelina married early and had previously lived all their lives on the western coast of Spain, close to the border with Portugal. However, after their arrival in Lisbon, they unceremoniously renounced their Spanish citizenship and enthusiastically embraced the life offered to them.

Both Juan and Angelina had youth and ambition on their side, which made their resettlement a pleasure rather than a burdensome necessity. Since they were bi-lingual, and having been exposed to the customs of Portugal, soon Juan and Angelina became a respected couple, despite their unfortunate Spanish surname.

Juan, though not tall, was a strong individual with masses of black curling hair and a deep tan. He was more ruggedly appealing than traditionally handsome. Nevertheless, it was his easy-going nature and ready smile which made it easy for him to make many lasting friendships, not only in the neighbourhood where he now lived, but throughout his maritime business network. His highly successful fishing skills and business shrewdness became well-known, and the cargos of precious wine entrusted to him were always delivered safely and usually on time, as promised. His word and his work ethic resulted in Juan becoming a man of considerable means. Altogether not a man with obvious philanthropic tendencies, he nevertheless rewarded effort fairly and financially helped many struggling families, either directly, or via discreet donations made at his local church. Angelina was a beautiful woman, insomuch as her caring, happy disposition was concerned, rather than out-and-out good looks. She was slightly taller than Juan and had a darker tan, and, like Juan, her warm, friendly smile was ever present. Sadly, her once athletic figure was just showing the signs of comfortable living, but hard work never daunted her. She, too, had soon accumulated many close friends.

Even when work became hectic, laugher still filled the lives of Juan and Angelina. Though Angelina assisted Juan with many facets of his business, her priority was always their son, Rodriguez.

From the tender age of five, Rodriguez began accompanying his father from their home port, Lisbon, to destinations along Portugal’s west coast and into the Mediterranean Sea. Occasionally, journeys such as that involved a round trip of a thousand leagues, thus maintaining a family tradition started by Juan’s grandfather.

Rodriguez’s very first journey however, was the most memorable, and almost certainly the event that sent him on his life’s course. The wind and the currents had been favourable, and the trip uneventful to all those on board, except for “Manny”, the nickname bestowed upon young Rodriguez by the deck hands; the name by which he would forever be known.

Indisputably, every minute of that trip was an adventure for Manny. The immeasurable expanse of the deep ocean delighted him, as did its changing colour as the intense blues of deep water gave way to bright green over a shallow, sandy bottom. The ease with which the ship’s bow effortlessly sliced through any swell totally absorbed and fascinated him. Even the occasional cold spray that was thrown over him and nearby crew made him laugh ecstatically.

Often, agile dolphins either cavorted in the bow wave, or in the foaming wake of their ship. Huge sharks sometimes patrolled them; large white birds with massive wing spans swept high above or glided effortlessly level with the deck and just out of reach; breathtaking cloud formations heralded a storm to be avoided.

All these visions left Manny in complete awe of his surroundings, wanting more and not wanting his maiden voyage to end.

And he let everyone on board know just how incredible it all was, as if the crew too were seeing these things for the first time. In fact, the only time Manny wasn’t talking was when he slept, and his accompanying dreams became etched into his soul and opened the window to his destiny.

From that day, whenever Juan announced his next upcoming sea voyage, Manny would beg his father to take him. ‘Of course, you can, son,’ Juan would reply in the manner that would soon become routine, ‘but only if you behave yourself, and only if your mother agrees.’

But his mother, Angelina, was not always so agreeable. ‘I’m not sure, Juan, he’s still only a little boy and, well...’

‘Ange, my darling, I understand and respect your motherly feelings,’ Juan would typically begin, hoping to quickly placate his wife’s concerns, ‘but I’ve done this run many times and my men know the few hazards that exist along the way. There’s nothing really bad to worry about… honest. Besides, without your permission, how will the boy learn?’

Angelina’s reserve was understandable, for she dearly loved their bright, happy and inquisitive son, and worried how she would handle life without him if he were to fall overboard and drown, or worse, be taken by sharks before being rescued. And, she had another legitimate, exasperating concern: regrettably, she’d been unable to present Juan with additional children.

In their moments of intimacy when in Juan’s strong arms, Angelina overcame her real worry. ‘If only we’d had a daughter, Juan. Everything in our lives would surely be perfect. Do you think we spoil the boy?’

‘Yes, we spoil him rotten. But be in no doubt I’d have spoilt our daughter, too, had we been so blessed. My life’s perfect, Angelina. I’m a very lucky man—I’ve got you and I’m very grateful that we have such a wonderful son. ‘I must tell you though, Ange, when we’re at sea and he’s at my side

at the helm, I feel so… so, incredibly proud. He’s got the passion and confidence and bearing of someone much older. That’s not what I expected in such a little boy. I cherish his company, Ange. I just wish I could find the right words to describe for you what I feel.’

‘Juan, I accept without question that you and your crew will protect our little boy with your lives,’ replied Angelina for she knew her husband well: Juan wore his pride on his sleeve. Angelina also realised her husband was championing the pleas of their son and she smiled inwardly.

But Angelina was no fool; she knew her eventual submission to Manny’s pleading guaranteed the continuation of that special father and son bond.

‘Juan? Promise me you’ll all teach Manny many important things and teach him well.’

‘That’s guaranteed, Ange, my darling, for he never shuts up until we do.’

Her permission granted in this manner, Angelina still quietly prayed for the next safe return of “her two men.”

* * *

Like everything else, Manny also threw himself into his formal schooling with an insatiable desire to learn. It was during these early formative years when he first heard stories about past Portuguese countrymen and their quest to explore the unknown world, their goal being a “Great South Land.”

It seemed that numerous men had embarked upon grand sea journeys to locate that land; few apparently had returned. Those who did return failed in their search and thereafter seemed intent only upon continuing to exploit the vast riches of distant, Portuguese controlled “Spice Islands.” Nevertheless, the intrigue of those stories infatuated Manny.

During this period, Juan, and his ageing crew were Manny’s constant mentors. Their lifetimes of acquired nautical knowledge—of navigation, sailing, carpentry, sail and rope repairs, hygiene, and how to read the fickle weather that accompanied the changing seasons, how to identify and avoid the hazards of reefs and shallow water, the importance of provisioning and routine ship maintenance—had been dutifully passed on and were all now instinctive in every decision Manny made. He was thus becoming a formidable and well-respected sailor.

Manny was also blessed with strong, and as fate would dictate, enduring friendships. Juan’s crew and some of their sons had become his staunchest allies. All shared two passions: sailing and exploration. But it was Manny, the youngest, who always dared his father’s crew to go further and faster. And when back on land, it was he who constantly talked about the distant shores of unknown countries, particularly of some mythical Great Southern Land, thus fuelling the crew’s lust for adventure, and for the favours of the many beautiful girls who surely awaited them.

At age eighteen, Manny’s natural curiosity and love of the ocean grew in equal proportion to his two other joys; the magnificent caravel he was building—and girls.

Approaching twenty-one, Manny’s physique was classical; not quite six feet tall, slender of waist, wide and highly developed shoulders and equally muscled limbs. On his birthday, his ship was finally declared complete.

Using the finest timbers, principally mahogany, it was constructed by the best and most experienced ship builders and sail makers in Lisbon, though Manny, Juan, and Juan’s principal carpenter all contributed hundreds of hours of their labour—and many reals of Juan’s wealth—in crafting exactly what Manny desired. It held promise to be the fastest and most manoeuvrable ship of its type ever launched, and understandably Manny was extremely proud of the end result.

Angelina and the local priest performed the christening ceremony at its launch, conferring upon it the name, the Esforcar-se (to seek).

A memorable party followed. Everyone was in high spirits and soon most became extremely drunk, but not before Manny and his youthful friends, now all men, gorged themselves, sang and cavorted unashamedly with their gorgeous and willing girlfriends, laughed riotously at the bawdy stories told by the older seamen, and finally, lovingly hugged, teased and danced with their mothers.

However, as drunk as Manny became, one particular girl seemed to stand out. Not aloof—reserved and a little shy maybe—but regardless, she smiled brightly every time he gazed in her direction. ‘Way too young,’ he murmured to himself, as he swayed drunkenly, attempting to focus. ‘Though, by Sent Chrishtepher she’s a beauty. ‘Aven’t sh’een her afore… or ‘ave I?’

Soon after, his closest friend, Heitor, noticed Manny swaying, while staring transfixed at the girl. ‘You dog, give it up,’ he said as he wrapped his arm around Manny’s shoulder. ‘Thatsh me shister, Bella, you’re ogling. Far too good for you, Manny boy. Beshides you’ve gotta girlfrien, av’n cha?’ ‘How could such a ugly oaf ash you end up with such a gorgush shister?’ Manny happily taunted his friend. ‘Yoove bloody-well been ‘idin’ her, aven’t yah!? By God tho, sh, she, she’s certainly changed. Jus how old ish Bella

now, my deah, Heitor?’

‘Why don’e yah go and ashk ‘er? But don’t get any ideas,’ Heitor replied with a wink. ‘And be careful Manny, yah girlfriend over there sheems mighty put out that yoove been i’noring her. I bet she reckons you should be shatishfied enuff having your hand up her shkirt.’

Charged with grog-fuelled bravado, besotted with lust and plagued by curiosity, Manny abandoned his equally inebriated and buxom girlfriend and staggered over to Bella… only to collapse, dead drunk at her feet, his proud handsome face fixed with a broad, contented smile.

Bella simply giggled and then matter-of-factly said to her mother who now stood beside her, ‘I’m going to marry him one day, Mum.’

Bella was to witness many times in her life that same contented smile, though most times, not from the effects of grog.

The morning after the party, despite being dreadfully hung-over, Manny decided to call upon Heitor on the pretext of seeking his help to finish some rigging alterations.

It was already hot as Manny approached his friend’s home. Of course, Heitor was nowhere to be seen, but Bella was. Manny gasped at what confronted him. Her gaze, through slightly hooded eyelids, her piecing black eyes, her soft, almost glowing skin and the radiant, yet slightly shy smile left him gob smacked. And, it suddenly dawned on him… she was actually waiting for him!

Wearing a sleeveless top and a light cotton skirt hiked up to reveal not only her knees, but a fair portion of her silky smooth thighs, Bella sat cross-legged in the shade on the top step of her home’s veranda. Feigning not to have seen Manny, she continued drinking her coffee and hummed quietly to herself while rhythmically bouncing one of her legs. That simple movement seemed so natural, yet her fabulously shaped and suntanned legs and dainty feet were so damned sexy, that Manny had considerable difficulty speaking.

‘Cat got your tongue, Manny?’ she teased. ‘Mind you, I didn’t expect to see you here so early.’

‘Eh? N, n, no… of course not, I just didn’t expect to see you,’ mumbled Manny, lying of course, his mouth having strangely gone very dry. Reluctantly he tore his eyes from her beautiful breasts, looked her squarely in the face and said, indignantly, ‘What do you mean, you didn’t expect to see me so early?’

‘Oh, come now, Manny, we both knew you’d be calling.’

‘We did? Well, would you like to come for a swim down in the bay?’ he replied lamely, his hangover almost forgotten. ‘I’ll buy whatever you want for breakfast.’

‘Only if you’ll let me onto your ship,’ Bella demanded. Then, with just the slightest hint of modesty, she quietly added, ‘Oh, and by the way, I turn eighteen next month.’

Over the next week, Manny became so totally besotted with Bella that he not only deferred conducting sea trials with the Esforcar-se, but even waved aside an opportunity to sail with his father.

And, not surprisingly during that time, Bella enthusiastically took the opportunity to surrender her virginity.

Seldom thereafter were they seen out of each other’s company. Two months later, they married.

2

Two weeks after their marriage, Manny set about finalising a crew, their role being to put the Esforcar-se through a demanding series of ocean trials, which would also include a voyage into the Mediterranean Sea.

At twenty-eight, Heitor Henriques was the tallest member of Manny’s crew, prematurely balding and possessing a winning smile. He was, without doubt, Manny’s best friend and confidant… and his brother-in- law.

Heitor was tough and a most experienced sailor who Manny accepted as his equal in navigation. Manny also knew beyond doubt that Heitor would fearlessly take command if he was struck down. And Heitor would succeed; he was decisive, pragmatic, and respected. But, best of all, Heitor enthusiastically shared the crew’s dreams to travel far; perhaps, to places no European had ever travelled. And, like Manny, he was an excellent negotiator.

Duarte Alves was totally bald; in fact, he did not have a hair on his entire body, the result of some childhood affliction. Consequently, he was seldom seen without a broad-brimmed hat, and fully clothed, because the sun if ever given the opportunity mercilessly attacked his pale skin. He was also the clown of the crew. His antics kept everyone on their toes by either cleverly executing practical jokes, or telling the most outrageously tall stories. But when it came to really heavy work, he was your man; a huge, muscled being that made tasks such as repositioning ballast look like a child’s game. However, Duarte was more than a jester and brawn; he possessed a deep compassion for those in distress. And, despite his size, he possessed an amazing agility, and surprisingly, was Manny’s match when it came to sword play.

What pleased Manny most were Duarte’s artistic skills and attention to detail. He would prove invaluable for he took great pride in the accuracy of the maps he had previously drawn. Duarte was not only a skilled cartographer but enjoyed creating the most artistic and colourful scenes of prominent land features and then complementing them with practical maritime notations in bold Portuguese script.

Mateus Machado, generally a good natured, happy lad, had been selected by Manny to be the ship’s supply master. Mateus had also been assigned to supervise the preparation of all meals, and to ensure that their few animals and chickens were kept alive until such time that it was their turn to appear on the menu.

Knives however, were his speciality; not how he used them when preparing food, but how he threw them with such remarkable speed and deadly accuracy.

Manny would always remember how he had once stupidly called Mateus’s bluff, which accounted for the nasty scar on his right shoulder. But, despite that long-ago and now almost forgotten event, Mateus was as close as any brother. Only a fool would underestimate, or try to take advantage of Mateus’ normally calm, good nature.

And then there was Ferrao Souza, his youngest crewmember who proudly sported his first full beard; a heavily muscled lad, blessed with remarkably keen eyesight. Manny liked Ferrao, not just because he was an eager worker and always keen to help, but because he was such a fine exponent of the flamenco guitar and possessed the most magnificent tenor’s voice.

However, Ferrao had another intriguing skill, which was the primary reason he was on board on this adventure. He had been raised on the land, the son of a successful sheep and cattle grazier, and had come to sailing only in the past year or so. However, his uncanny anticipation of the wind and its vagaries was astounding, which Manny knew was superior to his own best calls. Manny recognised he could put that skill to good use to extract maximum speed from the Esforcar-se and provide relief for himself at the helm.

Ovalo Cruz was the thinker and an optimist. At first glance, he appeared physically weak, but that, Manny knew, belied his toughness for he never either shirked his workload or complained. And though he often sought solitude, he, too, was a very compassionate man to whom life was paramount. Ovalo was seldom ever overbearing in expressing his thoughts and ideas, but he was nevertheless a student possessed of great curiosity. Manny also had reason for being extremely grateful to Ovalo for he had worked tirelessly with him prior to embarking on this maiden journey, interpreting whatever maps and seafaring reports they could get their hands on, and offering his thoughts on how they could best use that information. Antonio Madeira was charged with the responsibility of keeping the Esforcar-se afloat and moving. He had advised Manny regarding the initial sail selection for the Esforcar-se. Not having the capability of a safe return voyage to Lisbon was daunting, so Manny was therefore glad that Antonio had convinced him to take on board many yards of additional sail material. Antonio was also their master of trades. He was Manny’s age and of very similar stature; fit and quietly confident in his skills and ability to build things, and to make things work.

Fortunately, Antonio also had a head for heights which could prove invaluable. Manny had sailed with Antonio on previous occasions where he had fearlessly undertaken the repair and freeing of rigging faults, sometimes in very heavy seas.

Antonio’s carpentry skills were legendry, handed down from his father who had also been an expert ship builder: the Esforcar-se was largely constructed under Antonio’s guiding eye. And Manny had another most challenging project in mind for Antonio at this journey’s end.

These were just six of Manny’s hand-picked crew. All twenty-two men had worthy maritime credentials and “a passion for sailing out of sight” as Juan tagged those who had worked with him for many years.

‘You’re a lucky dog, Manny,’ said Heitor with genuine praise, ‘apart from needing some minor sail trim and ballast repositioning, your Esforcar-se has easily passed every test we’ve thrown at her.’

‘That’s been really satisfying, eh?’ replied Manny with pride. ‘I’d say that to a man, we’re all impressed with her speed in all weather conditions…’

‘Particularly her passage into the wind,’ Heitor interrupted excitedly, ‘and her ability to go about in not much more than her length is… well, damned amazing. And on the few days when the seas were a bit heavy, she treated the messy conditions with utter contempt and provided us with a comfort we had no right to expect.’

‘That’s got a lot to do with Antonio’s great work,’ Manny said with real praise. ‘But as you know, Heitor, I like to run before the wind. The best though, was when we looked like being swung broadside to some of those surges. Did you see how she still fought to head directly into the wind?

Mind you, you all did a first-class job deploying the sea anchor. It streamed out beautifully from the bow. And did you feel its drag counteracting our drift to leeward? Made it so much easier to keep her heading into the wind. Thank the boys for their good work, Heitor.’

Due to a storm which lasted for three days, youthful enthusiasm and otherwise perfect sailing conditions with persistent westerlies, they ventured much further east into the Mediterranean than Manny would have preferred on this maiden voyage. Nevertheless, he was delighted when a large landmass emerged from the sea haze late one afternoon.

‘There you go, Heitor,’ Manny said excitedly, ‘that’ll be the island of Cyprus according to our charts. Just in time too. Hopefully, we’ll be able to purchase enough decent food and fresh water for our run home.’

* * *

After two months at sea, the coastal village of Lemesos was a welcome layover anchorage. The crew was rostered to stay on board to guard the ship, but all of them eventually received the opportunity to explore the village and sample the local cuisine. Some climbed a nearby mountain and were amazed at the views while others sought the company of obliging women. Those who were less energetic simply wandered the streets and eventually returned to the Esforcar-se to sleep.

Manny and Bella, however, introduced themselves to a wizened, but very friendly street-shop merchant, who to their surprise, and delight, spoke excellent Portuguese.

‘Good God, Alexandre, it seems you stock just about everything here,’ said Manny as he cast his eyes around the store.

‘Not just about everything, young man, but everything you and your lovely wife may require! In addition to such items as blankets, rope, hand tools, olive oil, honey, cheeses, almonds, cereal and dried fruits, I can also provide you with any number of sheep and goats and pigs. Just tell me what you need and it’s yours… at sensible prices, of course.’

‘What astonishes me, Alexandre, are your spices,’ said Bella enthusiastically. ‘Many of them I’ve never seen before or even imagined they existed. And you have so many, and in such plentiful quantity.’

‘Then tonight, Bella, I’d be honoured if you’d both join me and my family to sample some of those wonderful spices.’

After being introduced to Alexandre’s family, Manny and Bella were treated to a memorable meal of highly spiced lamb, cured and spiced pork, haloumi, olives and tasty parcels of unusually spiced vegetables that had been deep fried in virgin olive oil. Strong aromatic coffee followed.

Banter went to and fro, Alexandre interpreting everyone’s questions and answers with good humour.

Later, Alexandre, Manny, and Bella lounged outdoors in the fading light enjoying the harbour views, and a cool, but very strong alcoholic drink called, zivania. A gentle on-shore breeze added to a most convivial setting, and not surprisingly, conversation soon found a target.

‘Where do all those amazing spices come from, Alexandre?’ Bella asked innocently. ‘They’re like nothing we’ve ever tasted at home.’

‘Where they grow and are harvested is a mystery to me,’ replied Alexandre. ‘I buy them from the Arab merchants who sell them in El Qahira (Cairo), to our south, in Egypt. Many spices come from Goa, in India, that much I do know. That’s many days travel from here, across a great ocean and a huge desert-bound gulf and then over a land bridge, to El Qahira. But those merchants will not sell their spices to you. They are not only in competition with your countrymen in matters of religion, but in all matters dealing with spices.’

Manny heard this clearly enough, but being replete from the earlier meal and enjoying the mellowing effects of the zivania, at first, he didn’t react.

Then it hit him.

Suddenly excited, Manny sat bolt upright, his attention focused fully upon his host. ‘I’ve heard of Goa, and I’ve dreamt of sailing there one day,’ Manny said enthusiastically. ‘But our merchants get there entirely by ocean, and I’m aware that it’s a very long voyage. Please, Alexandre, tell me more about the land bridge you spoke of. How is it part of Egypt?’

‘I’ve only ever heard men speak of it as if that land belongs to Egypt. I also understand that many have died trying to cross it; apparently, it’s mostly harsh, unforgiving desert. But the Arab people who live there have done so for many generations, so they must have adapted somehow. From what I’ve heard, they’ve trained camels to do just about everything for them. But, I’d never take my wife to such a place.’

Bella’s eyes widened in surprise at the obvious innuendo, but before she could say anything, Manny continued, clearly interested to learn more.

‘If I wanted to visit that land bridge from here… is it far from your island, Alexandre?’

‘A few days’ sailing at worst… if you use the wind carefully. They’ll take you south to the very doorstep of Romani; that’s a small coastal town east of the nearby and dreaded swamps that hold El Qahira within its embrace. You’d need to avoid those wetlands at all costs. I’m told that the Nile River, which feeds those wetlands, is the giver of all life, but its swamps are known as the waters that take all life.

‘I also understand you’ll find that the people of Romani are basically friendly souls,’ Alexandre continued, seemingly unperturbed that he was talking to a complete stranger, ‘but you’d need to treat them with respect… and some suspicion. They apparently have strange alliances with nomadic desert tribes who are fanaticamente religious people, but who also prey upon unprepared or defenceless spice traders from Goa who attempt to cross the land bridge after they leave the waters of that great gulf I mentioned earlier.’

‘That’s fascinating, Alexandre,’ Bella gently interrupted, ‘but how on earth do you know our language and speak it so well?’

‘Ah, well, that’s another story. But you could understand, I trust, that the Portuguese navy, even many years ago, would not tolerate one amongst its ranks who would rather chase after women than slaughter unwelcome Spanish sailors.’

3

1518. IN THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN CORSICA AND BARCELONA, HEADING WEST.

Homeward bound several weeks later, they were unavoidably becalmed for a few days: a time for reflection and appraisal of craft and crew.

The day was hot and, so far, breathless, as Manny sat idly watching Bella, the love of his life. Her suntanned body glistened sensually. He watched as, squatting with her magnificently shaped legs folded beneath her, she worked quickly to repair a frayed section of sail. The tiny golden hairs on the nape of her neck, her arms and on her thighs sparkled, adding to the pleasure of his carnal thoughts.

Suddenly, Bella looked up. As if anticipating Manny’s next order, she dropped her needle and thread into a basket, sprang onto the nearest rigging lines and scrambled lithely upwards.

Good God, she can read my mind, he thought, his lust replaced with admiration. Manny suspected they both must have felt the same faint zephyr.

Expertly, Bella released the ropes holding the mainsail, which unfurled smoothly and fought to capture the breeze. Manny swiftly hauled in the port lanyard and tied it off.

Bella had by then effortlessly slid to the deck via a series of ropes. Following Manny’s lead, she grabbed the sail’s starboard lanyard, threw it around a railing bollard, heaved to take up the slack and skilfully secured it. ‘What would I do without you, girl?’ Manny shouted excitedly, hoping his voice would convey in equal measure his pride and love for her. Her return glance and her sexiest and most wicked smile, reassured him. As he ran to the helm, he called basic orders to his crew knowing they needed little instruction to respond correctly.

Manny’s other pride and joy, the Esforcar-se, a 60-foot-long, wide- beamed vessel fashioned true to the style of a caravel, rocked gently forward. With increasing urgency as the sail filled, the Esforcar-se leant slightly to starboard, shouldered its bow into the rising sea and then charged ahead, at last releasing everyone from the frustration of idleness.

That gentlest of breezes had rapidly turned into a much needed and persistent easterly, which would take them home to Portugal. They were now ready for that homeward run, as ready as they could be given that six of Manny’s least experienced crew were laid low, suffering badly from mal de mer, and consequently unable to contribute to either readying or sailing the ship. Their affliction was most unexpected for they had demonstrated great enthusiasm, agility, and surprising abilities whilst the Esforcar-se had been under sail. However, Manny knew what had eventually brought these men undone: the Mediterranean’s dreaded swell—the relentless slow lifting and falling of the sea’s surface which always accompanies dead calm sailing conditions.

These six men were nevertheless Manny’s close friends, though not from his much larger circle of maritime acquaintances. And, as the rest of his loyal and experienced crew took matters in hand, Manny watched those stricken men with concern as they each tried valiantly to take part in the sailing, but soon staggered to the side rails to once more dry retch, then retreat to a position where they would not hinder their crewmates.

‘Stop worrying, my darling captain,’ whispered Bella, who was now leaning dreamily against Manny, and who had apparently, again read his mind. ‘They’ll recover soon, and later serve you well. And surely this sort of experience for them is part of this trial. It’s not just about the Esforcar-se is it? But, darling, they’re all men of good character who’ll always be loyal to you.’

Turning to face Bella, Manny replied, ‘You’re right as usual. I reckon I’ve chosen well. And my mind is made up; they’ll all be with me on my next voyage. They might not be the sons of generations of sea dogs, but their loyalty and sense of purpose is undeniable, eh?’

‘Yet still, you can’t find room for me, your most devoted and most clever crew member,’ Bella quickly added, with just a hint of annoyance.