Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [113]
‘Ochoa de Marchena,’ said Jorge da Silves to the air. ‘I wonder where lies the body tonight whose garments those are.’
‘Wherever it is,’ said Bel of Cuthilgurdy, ‘it’s looking nicer without them.’
First to board, Nicholas stood on the deck of his bright, virgin caravel, and looked past even Godscalc to Loppe. Then his gaze, softening, travelled over his seamen and returned to Bel of Cuthilgurdy, deepening into something that was not quite a smile, in response perhaps to something he saw in her face. ‘Mistress Bel. And Father Godscalc’ There was no trace now of a smile. Nicholas said, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.’
‘So am I,’ Godscalc replied. The inspection had already passed beyond him.
‘And the master. Well, Jorge. You kept in soundings all night.’
The master’s head turned. ‘By my orders,’ Godscalc said. ‘That is, the villages change place, and the dunes.’ Beside him, Loppe stood perfectly still, his eyes only on Nicholas.
‘Yes. There is a lot to discuss. As you see, Diniz has rejoined us, and the demoiselle. Perhaps Mistress Bel would like to hear her news while we talk. Jorge, the Fortado is probably following, if she hasn’t cut in ahead of us. What damage do you have?’
‘The report is coming. We shall sail, do not fear. We have wasted too much time as it is.’
Loppe said, ‘We have one call to make.’
‘No,’ said Jorge da Silves. ‘It is too late. And the surf begins before the Ksar, I have told you. We put off the rest at Senagana or nowhere.’
‘What do I hear?’ cried a voice from the ladder. Ochoa sprang on board. ‘You do not want your magnificent savages? I shall take them, I. Beginning with that one. And your crew! Your crew! Compared with my mangy one-legged scum! Niccolino, where do you choose them?’
‘You have heard me speak of Lopez,’ said Nicholas pleasantly. He was impatient, Godscalc saw, but neither he nor Loppe showed offence. ‘He is unfortunately attached to the expedition. But you know Señor Jorge da Silves of the Order of Christ?’
The lean, adamantine face of the Portuguese confronted, without evident pleasure, the formless Andalusian visage in the centre of which sagged a smile pink as offal. The Portuguese addressed it in the third person. ‘Señor Ochoa may take what blacks he likes, provided that they are first baptised according to God’s law. We have already lost precious souls to the devil.’
He shot a dark glance behind him. Godscalc stood, his arms folded, his balled fists meekly tucked in his sleeves. He said to Nicholas, ‘The poop cabin is free,’ Mistress Bel had taken the girl by the hand and disappeared. Diniz, unfortunately, was standing his ground. Nicholas said, ‘Then we had better go there.’
He did, however, take longer than anyone else to reach the cabin, and both the sailing-masters and Diniz and Godscalc were seated before he came in, bringing Loppe; indeed, with his hand falling from Loppe’s doublet shoulder. Godscalc was not surprised, although it did not greatly please either master. Five minutes with Loppe would have told Nicholas all he needed to know. Depending on one’s viewpoint, Loppe was his most loyal friend, or his spy.
Nicholas said, ‘We have a change of plan, so this must be quick. Jorge, what cargo do you have? Is there a paper?’ There was, and he spoke as he read it. ‘Gum – so many crates? Quintals of pepper … Orchella and dragon’s blood – I have more, from Grand Canary. And gold, yes I see. And what slaves are there left?’ He looked up. ‘I know you have landed some, and others jumped overboard.’
‘There are fifteen